Karen Olson - Pretty In Ink

When he came back, he was still smiling, so I figured he liked it. I covered the tattoo, told him to keep it like that just for a little while, then instructed him to take the wrapping off to let it heal, washing it with liquid antibacterial soap and applying an antibiotic ointment. After a few days, he could switch to using an unscented moisturizer.

“It’ll be pink for a while, like bubble gum,” I said, “and it’ll peel like sunburn. Then it’ll be fine.”

He buttoned his shirt, and I saw his fingers shaking a little.

“Has the Xanax worn off?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m just a little nervous about what I’m going to do next.”

“And what’s that?” I asked absently. My thoughts were turning back to Charlotte and what I’d be doing next.

But instead of answering, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. His lips found mine, and I couldn’t breathe, but in a good way. He tasted like wintergreen Tic Tacs.

When we finally came up for air, we grinned stupidly at each other.

“I guess you don’t think I’m contaminated after all.”

I couldn’t believe I said something so stupid.

But he didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll call you.” He started out the door, but then stopped and turned. He held his hand out.

“I don’t know what to do with this. Kyle came and got Trevor’s clothes, but he wouldn’t take this.” He opened his hand, and sitting in the center of his palm was the queen-of-hearts brooch.

I stared at it.

“Isn’t there some sort of hospital procedure for stuff like that?” I asked.

“We keep things for the next of kin, but Trevor didn’t have family, apparently. That’s why Kyle took over. But he didn’t want to take this. Said it was bad karma or something.”

No kidding. Wesley Lambert was looking for this pin, and the next thing we knew, Trevor was dead.

I reached over and took the brooch from Bixby, turning it over in my hand. Still seemed as garish as the first time I’d seen it. I held it back out for him, but he shook his head.

“How about if you give it to your brother for me? I want the police to have this. I don’t really want to leave it around the hospital. It might get lost or stolen.”

I thought about how the pin had been reported stolen already. It probably should be in police hands. They’d most likely give it back to Lester Fine.

Something Jeff had said picked at my brain. Lester Fine’s name came up in conjunction with the investigation into Wesley Lambert. Lambert had been poking around for the brooch. There had to be a link there somewhere. I could give the brooch to Tim and tell him what I’d found out.

I nodded. “Sure. I’ll give it to Tim.” I put it in my jeans pocket.

He flashed me that smile again, the one that made me a little weak in the knees. I almost told him the ink was on the house, but Bitsy wouldn’t be happy about that. I consoled myself by not accompanying him to the front desk where the money would change hands, or at least the credit card would be swiped.

I went back to the staff room. Trevor’s laptop still sat on the corner of the light table. It reminded me of something, and I went back out to the front, where Bixby was just about to leave. He looked up when I approached.

I tugged on his sleeve.

“Just one question,” I said.

“I haven’t been interrogated this much since my prom date’s father.” He grinned.

I wanted to kiss him again but pushed the thought aside. Time for that later. I hoped.

“I saw some pictures,” I said. “Trevor had some pictures, and the funny thing is, Lester Fine’s in one of them.” I didn’t want to describe it, so I just stopped there.

It was like someone had switched the light off. Bixby’s face grew dark. “Listen, Brett,” he said in a tone so low I had to lean forward to hear him. “If you think you saw Lester in a picture and you think it means something, maybe you should just tell your brother and let him handle it in whatever way he feels is appropriate. I don’t think Lester would like it very much if you start throwing accusations around.”

I was already on Lester Fine’s bad side. But Bixby wasn’t done yet.

“Rusty Abbott is more than just a personal assistant, Brett. He’s taken care of things for Lester for the last couple years.” Bixby paused. “He can make accidents happen. Get my drift?”

Accidents can happen. I remembered how Jeff Coleman had said that was Abbott’s message to me.

“How do you know all this?” I asked. “This is more than just him showing up for a procedure, isn’t it?”

Colin Bixby traced my jaw with the tip of his finger, and I felt it all the way to my toes. Although I wasn’t quite sure if it was in a good way or not, because what he’d said creeped me out.

“I’ll call you,” he said, leaning over and brushing my cheek with his lips before going out the door.

Bitsy was watching with her mouth hanging open.

“You look like some sort of fish,” I said a little too sharply.

“You move fast,” she said.

“I just spent over an hour with the guy.”

“Yeah, touching him.”

“Not exactly. The needle was touching him.”

“It’s romantic.”

I sighed. This was getting us nowhere. “When’s my next client?”

“Half an hour.”

I needed more sugar. I’d managed to get only a couple of truffles before Joel finished them off. I thought about the gelato place over in the Palazzo shops on the first floor. Usually I didn’t go for five-dollar ice cream, but I was in the mood for a little splurge. I went into the staff room and grabbed my bag. On my way out, I tucked Trevor’s laptop on the shelf under the light table.

Bitsy and Joel both placed orders, and I made a mental note to call Tim when I got back to find out what was going on with Ace. I recalled Joel’s question about Charlotte: Had she gotten the job at the shop to check out one of us? Ace? They’d gotten very close very quickly. And now he had all that cash in his account.

For a split second I wondered if he was somehow involved with all this.

But then I mentally slapped myself. While I did know Ace less than I knew Bitsy or Joel, we’d all been together now for two years. I couldn’t see Ace doing something like stealing money from Trevor.

Should I tell Tim about the picture of Trevor and Lester and the 1099s on the laptop? Probably. But then I’d have to tell him I’d taken the laptop from Trevor’s apartment. I’d conveniently left that small fact out when I told him and DeBurra about my first trip to Trevor’s yesterday. Somehow, I wasn’t quite sure how to relay that information without putting myself in a really bad light. It would have to be done delicately.

I’d think about it.

I walked around the end of the canal, where people were waiting for gondolas. Back in St. Mark’s Square, I could hear lutes and a harp and some singing. Without even looking, I knew costumed men and women were probably dancing, entertaining the tourists.

I kept walking past the shops and down the escalator to the first floor.

Spray from the waterfall misted my face, and I combed my hair back off my forehead with my fingers. I didn’t want to think about how much water was being wasted.

There was a line at Espressamente illy. I stood between it and the escalator, debating with myself. I could go back upstairs and get gelato at St. Mark’s Square, but I preferred the gelato here. As I hesitated, someone knocked into me from behind.

I whirled around and saw Frank DeBurra.

Just my luck.

“What do you want now?” I asked wearily.

But he wasn’t paying attention to me. His face was screwed up with anger as he addressed a gaggle of twentysomething girls on the other side of him. They were giggling and whispering and hadn’t paid attention when two of them bumped into him.