“I’ll call you tomorrow. We have to meet. It has to do with your friend Simon Chase.”
I couldn’t help myself. “What about him?”
“Listen, I know you’ve got the hots for the guy, Kavanaugh, but he’s not what he seems.”
I paused. “And what’s that?”
“He’s more than a rich casino manager.”
“So what is he?”
Jeff chuckled. “He’s the one who made the appointment.” “What appointment?”
“For the tat. The guy at Versailles. The one I asked you to cover.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve got his cell phone.”
“What do you mean, you’ve got his cell phone?”
“I lifted it at Viva Las Vegas tonight.”
He lifted it? “You mean you stole it?”
“For a cause, Kavanaugh. For a cause. I checked his call history. He made that call to me. It’s the same number, the same time. Don’t trust him. He set me up. And by extension, he set you up, too.”
“But how did he get that tat done? How did he get the needles and gloves?”
“Gotta go. Tomorrow, Kavanaugh.”
And the call ended.
Chapter 46
I tossed and turned all night. I could’ve blamed the heat, but the air-conditioning was doing a fine job keeping the house cool. When I did drift off, images of Simon Chase and Jeff Coleman and, oddly, Willis floated through my dreams. At one point I was giving Elise a tat in the shape of a guillotine.
It was a relief when I woke and saw the sun streaming through the miniblinds.
Tim was already gone. I’d promised to tell him when I’d heard from Jeff again, but he wasn’t making it easy for me. Sure, I could’ve told him last night, right after Jeff called me, but everything was running around in my head and I wanted to let it settle a bit first. I toasted a bagel and made some coffee, thinking about Simon Chase’s cell phone. I’d had suspicions about him all along, but deep down I’d hoped I was wrong, that it was all a mistake. But if he really did make that appointment for Jeff, he was definitely guilty of something.
I took a shower and threw on my usual uniform of a print cotton skirt and a navy tank top. I debated Sylvia’s offer to ink my other arm. But what would I get? I paid homage to the Impressionists on one arm; what about my neoclassicists this time? But I couldn’t exactly see
I didn’t hit any traffic on the way to the Venetian and ended up being the first one there. That was unusual, but Bitsy probably had a late night last night at Viva Las Vegas.
I lifted the gate and let myself in through the glass doors. I walked by the front desk, stopping when I saw that the purple orchids on the desk had fallen over, the flowers out of the pot, like they’d been pulled out. What was this? I glanced around, but nothing appeared out of place. Nevertheless, I was cautious as I went to the back of the shop and opened the door to the staff room.
It was a shambles.
File folders, papers, and stencils were strewn on the floor, the file cabinet drawers yawning wide; boxes of baby wipes were tossed here and there, with wipes loose and wet clinging to the floor and the light table. Packages of disposable razors, needles, and latex gloves were scattered over every surface. The refrigerator door was open- the contents of some Chinese takeout from a couple days ago spilled across the shelves, and soda cans had been opened and upturned to create a sticky brown mess that seeped to the floor. Toilet paper had been unrolled in the bathroom, covering much of the tiny floor space.
I dropped my head into my hands and fought back a sob.
This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Not at the Venetian. Not with the security, not with the way these shops were locked up every night. How could this have happened?
Panic rose in my chest. I waded through the mess and stooped down to look under the light table, where we kept a small safe that held all our cash until Bitsy could get to the bank. It was gone. Granted, Bitsy had gone to the bank yesterday, so there wasn’t much in there, but it was still a crime.
I couldn’t breathe.
I stepped back out into the hall, noticing now that the doors to all the rooms were shut. One by one, I opened them, revealing the same sort of chaos that had been inflicted on the staff room, only this time, ink was smeared everywhere.
By the time I reached my room, I was numb. As I absently began picking up the ink pots, I heard a small sound.
It wasn’t out front; it was from somewhere in here.
It sounded sort of like a cat’s meow, but how would a cat get in here?
Same way whoever tossed the place did, I guessed.
I picked my way through the mess, following the noise to the waiting area across the hall.
The sofa was askew, away from the wall, more on an angle than usual.
Something was behind it.
It was larger than a cat.
I saw a foot move, and I froze.
I still had my bag slung over my shoulder, and I grabbed at it so I could get my phone.
“Brett?”
The voice was barely above a whisper, and if I’d been breathing I might not have heard it. I dropped my bag and went to the sofa, pulling it back.
Ace rolled out from behind it, landing on his back, his nose crushed, blood smeared across his face and matted in his hair. An arm draped across his chest, and his eyes sought my face.
“Brett?” he whispered again.
I knelt down next to him, touching his face, his shoulder. “What happened? Who did this to you?” My other hand reached for my bag, my phone, to call 911.
“Big guy. Eagle tat. He didn’t think I was here. I surprised him.”
Matthew. Where I had felt numb just moments before, now the rage began to take over.
My fingers found my phone.
“What did he want?” I asked, my voice trembling with anger. “What was he looking for?”
Ace tried to shake his head, but he moaned again with the movement. “Don’t know. Didn’t say. Slugged me; I hit my head. Went out awhile, I think.”
“Don’t say anything else,” I said as his voice faded even further. I punched numbers into the phone and told the dispatcher I needed an ambulance.
My next call was to Tim.
“Someone broke into my shop,” I said without identifying myself.
“What? Brett?”
“He beat up Ace, left him here, destroyed the place.”
“Slow down, Brett. What’s going on?” Tim’s voice was hurried, full of concern.
I took a couple deep breaths and told him what I’d found here.
“You called an ambulance?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Ace had closed his eyes again, his head lolled to one side. “I hope they get here soon. Ace needs help.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t touch anything; don’t disturb anything.” And he ended the call.
