violated. Bitsy had taken care of the rest of the room, stacking all the ink pots in a row on the shelf, the disposables neat in their boxes, Joel’s tattoo machine perched and ready for the next customer.
I had to get Tim to give me my machine back. And the case, which was Ace’s.
I wondered if whatever it was Matthew had been looking for was in the case, which was why he didn’t find it here last night.
As I took the bucket out to the bathroom off the staff room and tossed the sponges in the sink to be cleaned, a cell phone started ringing. It wasn’t a familiar ring, not Springsteen or Bitsy’s “Dancing in the Streets.” Instead, it was a real ring, an old-fashioned sort of ring. A ring, well, with that low-toned, rough
Simon Chase’s phone.
Curiosity got the better of me. I rummaged around in my bag and pulled the BlackBerry out. I had no idea how something like this worked. My phone wasn’t nearly as sophisticated.
I hit the little green phone button and after a second heard, “Chase, where the hell are you?”
Bruce Manning.
I just did a little “mmmm,” lowering my voice so he’d think it was Chase.
“Where’s the girl? What did you do with her?”
The words made me freeze, my heart in my throat.
He didn’t wait for an answer. “I know you’ve got her, and I want to know where it is. I don’t care about her-you can do what you want with her-but I want it back.”
Chapter 51
I ended the call. Let him think Chase did. He obviously thought Chase knew where “it” was, whatever “it” was. And Chase had Elise. That was clear. Matthew must be working for him, as I suspected. He must have sent Matthew over here last night.
My staff room was clean, tidy, smelling like Pine-Sol. No thanks to Matthew or Simon Chase. I wanted to go over to Versailles and… what? What did I want to do? Yell at him, hurt him, like he’d hurt me?
Like he’d care. Like I meant anything to him. Obviously he’d been using me to try to get whatever it was everyone thought I had.
I wondered if Tim still had that wire handy.
Bitsy came into the staff room.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” she said.
“Did you find anything that shouldn’t have been here when you were cleaning up?”
“That again? No, Brett, there’s nothing here. I think the guy found it and took it. He took the safe, for Pete’s sake.”
True enough.
Simon Chase’s phone began ringing again. Bitsy frowned.
“Where’d you get that fancy phone?”
I looked at the number of the incoming call, and it wasn’t the one Bruce Manning had used. On reflex, I answered it.
“Yes?” I asked, not bothering to disguise my voice now.
“Who is this?” The English accent came through loud and clear.
“Oh, hi, Simon. It’s me, Brett.” My tone was casual, like I was expecting his call. His call on his phone. What was I-insane?
“The police said Jeff Coleman had my phone.”
Okay, I’d spilled the beans on that one; how to explain how I got the phone? Why not try the truth?
“He gave it to me to give to you. I guess he figured we’d see each other, you know, after last night.” There it was again, that affected accent. With a distinctively chilly tone around the corners.
He didn’t seem to notice.“Oh, well, yes.” His own tone had softened. “I would very much like to see you again. And I certainly would like my phone back. Shall we meet? Dinner?”
I didn’t want to go back to Versailles. I felt too vulnerable there. I wanted him off his own turf. And I wanted to be on mine.
“Can you come here? There are a couple of nice places to eat at the Venetian,” I suggested.
He was quiet a second, probably checking his schedule, then, “That’s a splendid idea. Then I can see your shop. How’s eight o’clock?” There was an eagerness in his voice. Sure, he wanted to see my shop. Then he could search it, too. I saw this now as a bad idea, but I couldn’t go back on it without raising his suspicions. Bitsy would be here, and probably Joel would be back by then. I wouldn’t be a sitting duck, like Ace had been last night.
“I’d like that,” I said, forcing my voice to sound normal, but it still came out stilted.
“Shall I make reservations somewhere?” he asked.
Wouldn’t you know a kidnapper and murderer would be the most chivalrous guy I’d been interested in in a long time. Just my luck. I’d fall for him and he’d end up in the slammer, twenty-five to life, and I’d be signing up for conjugal visits every six months.
Every six months seemed like a good idea, considering it had been longer than that since the last time I got naked with someone.
What was wrong with me? That kiss-oh, that kiss-had just been a ruse to distract me from Elise.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, hoping that by doing so I could maintain control over this situation.
“Lovely. See you then.” And he hung up.
“You’ll take care of what?”
Bitsy’s voice made me jump about five feet in the air.
“Don’t do that,” I said, a little too harshly.
“Sorry.” While I was frosty, she was definitely sarcastic. I immediately felt bad.
“No, I’m sorry. I think I’m just freaking out. Too much crap in the past few days.”
She nodded. “Know what you mean.” She paused. “Would you mind… well, if I took the rest of the day off and went home? I’m a little freaked out, too.”
But she was supposed to hang around so I could have backup when Simon Chase showed up.
Bitsy’s face was showing the strain of the day, and I couldn’t keep her here. She’d already done so much.
I nodded. “Go home. Get some rest. Hopefully we’ll be back to normal tomorrow. I’ll finish up here.”
The relief that crossed her face made me feel even worse.
“Thanks, Brett.”
She gathered up her purse and went to the door, turning just before she left. “Lock up behind me. Don’t let any strangers in.”
That was all there were out there-strangers. As I did what she said, I watched the people moving past the door, looking as they passed but not attempting to come in. I went over to the mahogany desk and sat in the leather chair. Joel should be back soon. I’d be a lot less jittery then.
Bitsy had replaced the mess of the purple orchid with the old white one. I wondered where she’d had it stashed so it survived the melee. It still wasn’t looking good. I reached over and touched the dirt. It was bone-dry.
I kept pressing down on the dirt around the orchid’s stem. My finger penetrated the soil and I pulled it out, my fingernail black. Shaking off the excess, I went to get some water for the flower. I filled a glass in the bathroom, trying not to look in the mirror. I still hadn’t changed out of the ill-fitting shirt, and dark circles accentuated my eyes.
I poured the water around the base of the orchid and watched it seep into the dirt. As I turned to take the glass back, something glinted at me.
I stuck my finger into the soil again. It was wet this time, and I knew I was going to have to seriously wash my hands. But my finger caught on something, and I dragged it up.
The largest diamond ring I’d ever seen sparkled brightly as it caught the overhead light, casting a gleam against the wall and Ace’s Mona Lisa.
I’d seen this diamond before.
