“Where were you just now?”
I tried to laugh, but it came out sort of funny, and his deep brown eyes unnerved me with their intensity. “Nowhere,” I said. I didn’t want to voice any suspicions about Chip unless I was sure. At least not to him.
He stepped closer, close enough so I could feel his body heat, which made me catch my breath. He was smiling, his hand reaching up-
The knock at the door made us both jump backward, away from each other. First time I’d seen him a little flustered. Part of me was sorry-I’d wanted to see where this was going-but the other part was glad. Because I wasn’t nearly emotionally ready for something that seemed prematurely potent.
Manning came in first, bellowing at Tim, “You have to wrap all this up; there’s media in the lobby, they’ve got their spies, they know something’s happening.”
Tim smiled serenely. I recognized that smile. It was the one he gave my parents whenever they asked why he wasn’t married, why he and Shawna didn’t patch things up, she was a nice girl, she would make a wonderful mother.
“We’ll do all we can to avoid the press,” he assured Manning.
It was at that point that they both noticed Chip passed out on the couch. Tim raised his eyebrows at me and I made a motion like I was drinking.
Manning seemed to lose a little of his bluster, looking disconcerted now instead. “How long has he been like this?” He focused on Simon.
“We came in and he was drunk,” I offered, causing Manning to turn and study me like I was an exhibit at the city zoo.
“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already, young lady?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to say something smart-I really didn’t like that he kept calling me “young lady”-but Tim caught my hand, which stopped me. He had his fingerprint case in his other hand, and he asked Simon if he could use the desk, he would be neat about it.
With Simon’s permission, we crossed the room and left Simon to Manning.
Tim rolled my fingers in the ink and pressed them one by one onto the print sheet.
“You might want to take a close look at Chip’s shirt-tails,” I whispered.
“What?” He stopped midhand.
“Stains. Red stains. I don’t know if it means anything.”
Tim glanced back at the trio on the other side of the room, Chip’s snores now resonating through the air. “You know what you’re implying, right?” His annoyance came through, but there was also a tinge of curiosity.
“He knew that a Matthew had captured Elise’s heart. Maybe he thought it was his driver,” I suggested.
Tim finished up with my hands and gave me a cloth to wipe my fingers. I needed more than that. I needed some soap and hot water. I also realized I needed a bathroom.
“Take a look,” I whispered.
Tim’s expression changed slightly as he approached Manning, and I asked Simon if there was a bathroom I could use. He directed me to a door in the corner.
I was almost afraid to actually use the facilities. The sink was a crystal bowl that sat demurely on the blond marble vanity, a gold faucet perched over its top. I hoped it wasn’t real gold, but I wouldn’t count it out. This place had cost a fortune, and it was obvious no expense was spared.
I scrubbed my hands until they were red but with no more sign of ink. As I turned the water off, I lingered a moment to savor the decor. The door wasn’t all that soundproof, I discovered to my chagrin, but it allowed me to eavesdrop.
Tim was trying to get Chip’s fingerprints while he was passed out.
Manning was arguing that he couldn’t do that legally; he’d call his lawyers and slap a suit against him.
Simon Chase’s soft English murmur was indecipherable, but both Tim and Manning quieted down.
I stepped out of the bathroom to see all eyes on me.
“We’ll get out of your way now,” Tim said to Simon Chase, shaking his hand. He turned to Manning. “I’m sending a uniformed officer down here to wait for your son to wake up. We’ll want to ask him some questions.” Tim indicated that I should follow him, so I did, tossing back a quick, “Thanks,” to Simon Chase, who gave me another wink that made me blush.
“Can I go home?” I asked Tim once we were back out in the hallway, heading toward the elevator.
Tim bit his lip, like it was a tough decision to make. Then, finally, “It doesn’t look good, you know, the needle, the gloves.”
“You can’t possibly think I killed that guy, do you?”
Tim’s mouth set in a grim line. “No, I don’t think you killed him. And we’ve questioned the guy at the front desk and the elevator guy who brought you up here. They verify the time you came in. We’ll check the video, too.”
The video of the front entranceway, which would show what time I came in. The illusion was also one big
Tim was still talking. “But I want you to promise to go straight home. Otherwise, I’ll put out an APB on you. I’ll be there in a few hours, and we can talk then.”
“It did look like blood, didn’t it, on Chip’s shirt?”
Tim stared me down before saying again, “Go straight home now.”
He thought it was blood, too. He also didn’t think I had anything to do with what happened to Chip Manning’s driver, Matt. Otherwise he wouldn’t let me go anywhere.
“I might stop for something to eat,” I said, realizing I was starving.
“Make it takeout.”
Tim took the elevator back up, and I took it down into the massive, mirrored lobby. The flashing lights of the slot machines reminded me of the guillotines Simon Chase had told me about. I couldn’t leave without seeing those.
I followed the tasteful, yet at the same time gaudy, path through the casino a little ways. Despite the elegant and over-the-top decor in the hotel, this was a casino: loud, patterned carpeting meant to lift your gaze up to the machines and tables, where you’d lose all your money in a matter of seconds. Or in the unlikely chance that you’d hit the jackpot, like the guy over to my left, a guillotine blade would come crashing down on top of the slot machine, the whine of the bells and whistles announcing that today there was a winner.
It was pretty cool, the guillotine.
The cocktail waitresses all had high white wigs decorated with buttons and bows, their breasts bulging out of the white satin corsets, the skirts hacked off to reveal shapely legs in white fishnet stockings and four-inch white patent-leather heels.
I wondered how they could move in those costumes, but they seemed to have it all under control.
I started back out, pondering where I’d get a bite to eat. I was thinking of something more than a burger-I had just been fingerprinted by the police, even though it was my brother, and I needed a civilized meal to remind me that I wasn’t some sort of criminal.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t see him at first.
But then I did.
Out of the corner of my eye. He was standing behind one of the guillotines, his shaved head with the eagle tattoo giving him away. I lifted my hand without thinking about it, then caught myself midwave.
He took a step toward me.
And I ran.
Chapter 23
He was gone by the time I went back with a security guard, who proceeded to give me the riot act about how I shouldn’t cry wolf, because he didn’t have time to run around looking for big, bald, tattooed guys who weren’t there.
I thanked him for his time and gave the valet my ticket for my car.
