The Missing Ink

“You know, people have been looking for you. Where have you been?” I asked.

“There are a lot of places to stay in Vegas, and not just on the Strip.” Her expression changed slightly. “We’re going to your shop,” she said, although she seemed perplexed as to how she’d drive and still manage the gun.

I shook my head. “It’s too late.”

The gun whipped up and the barrel rested on my forehead. My heart missed a couple of beats.

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“I found it. The ring. And I gave it to my brother.”

“Your brother?” She was confused a second, then, “The cop?”

I nodded. “I didn’t want it. He said Manning said you stole it.”

The gun moved off my forehead and circled up toward the ceiling. “What? I can’t believe it. Chip gave it to me. It was my engagement ring. It was mine.”

“That’s what I said.” I hoped that by offering some sort of support she’d feel kindly toward me and stop waving that gun around. “But he wanted it anyway. He’s my brother. What was I supposed to do?” I had no idea whether she had siblings, but I took a shot that she’d know what I was talking about.

She lowered the gun and put it on the console between us. I felt my heartbeat going back to normal.

I was about to ask her why she was following me around when suddenly she floored the accelerator and we were flying out of the parking lot, going down Las Vegas Boulevard toward the Strip.

“We’re going to your shop,” she said again.

“But it’s not there.”

“I don’t care. You’re going to give me that tattoo.”

“Huh?”

“If the ring’s gone, well, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll figure out something. But I want that tattoo. I need it. I need it to get me through this. To give me courage.” She was babbling, but I understood the basics of what she was saying. I’d do the ink and she’d leave town, leave everything behind and move on. It was her rite of passage.

I nodded. “Okay. I can do that. But just tell me: Are you the one who’s been chasing me all over town?”

“You didn’t have to go so fast in that garage.”

“Why have you been chasing me?”

“I needed to know if you found the ring. Or if it was still at your shop.”

“Why couldn’t you just call and be straight with me? Then we wouldn’t have gone through all this.”

“I couldn’t risk that. Everyone’s looking for me. Bruce Manning thinks I’m a thief and would throw me in jail, and it’s my word against his.”

I remembered how Manning had treated me at Versailles, gripping me so hard but making it look like we were just having a casual conversation. Elise and I were in the same boat: Who would believe us when one of the richest men in the world gave his version of reality?

Elise was still talking. “I couldn’t risk going to your shop; someone might see me. Simon said he’d get it tonight, when he saw you.”

“You told him about it?” So that was why he wanted to meet me at The Painted Lady. He wanted to feel up my orchid.

Elise’s eyes left the road for a second as she gave me a long look. “Of course. He and Mattie are the only two people I can trust.”

I didn’t want to remind her that Matt Powell was dead. That she was talking about him in the present tense.

“Simon lent me the truck,” Elise said.

Nice of him, I thought. Chivalrous as usual. I wondered if he knew she used it to follow me.

“How did you know Kelly Masters?” I asked, changing the subject.

Again with a look, then she was staring straight at the road, her jaw tense. “Chip. Chip was having an affair with her. She called me. She wanted to meet me, and when I came out here, she told me she was pregnant.”

I let that digest a little as we stopped at the light next to the World’s Largest Gift Shop. I’d never been in there. I’d never needed any Large Gifts.

I took a shot. “Chip said you had an affair, and you told him it was over.”

She snorted. It was not attractive. “He thought Simon and I hooked up again. He was so wrong.” The light turned green. “Simon likes the chase, you know, but he’s not a long-term sort of guy.” She glanced at me as she pressed down on the gas. “Be careful.”

“I think I can take care of myself.” I bristled.

Elise chuckled. “Every woman thinks she can change him.”

I didn’t want to change him. I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

She kept talking. “He thinks you’re exotic, you know, all those tattoos. Like Kelly.”

I didn’t much like being compared to Kelly. And he’d talked about me with Elise? This was just getting stranger and stranger.

We were quiet a few minutes, and finally she reached the Venetian, pulling into the valet parking lane.

“I hate that garage,” she tossed at me as she scrambled out of the truck.

I was close on her heels, realizing I had absolutely no idea what was going on except that I had an unexpected client. Before long I was leading the way, since I could get around the Venetian with my eyes closed. We followed the canal to the shop, a gondola just ahead of us.

The Painted Lady had been imprisoned behind the gate. I unlocked the glass doors, leaned down and unlocked the gate, and lifted it up, letting it rise over our heads, disappearing into the ceiling.

I led Elise into my room, where I set up my inks. I took a disposable razor out of a package and wet a washcloth.

“Where do you want it?” I asked automatically, although I already knew.

Without any ceremony, Elise pulled her shirt over her head to reveal a lacy pink bra that barely covered her nipples. She pointed to a spot just above her left breast. “Here.”

The hair on her skin was fine, but I’d still have to shave it. My hands were shaking slightly, though; the day’s events and an ever-lowering blood sugar level weren’t good for tattooing. I still had the stencil I’d made in the staff room, so I told Elise to wait in the chair while I got it, stalling for a few minutes.

I found half a meatball sub in the fridge, and I picked out one of the meatballs and chewed it whole as I rummaged through the files, finally finding the stencil in a folder marked Kelly Masters.

While I wasn’t keen on devotion tats, this was a memorial. Not unlike the kid who had Jesus on his back.

I grabbed a handful of disposable needles, still in their packages, from a box in the closet. The meatball had erased my shakes. I was running through the whole process in my head, my own little ritual, so when I finally started back to my room, it didn’t register for a moment.

But when I heard him say, “Trust me,” and I heard the whirring of the tattoo machine, my first thought was that I should’ve put that gate down and locked it after us.

Chapter 60

My second thought was, How did Chip Manning learn how to use a tattoo machine? Because, as I peered around the corner into my room, I saw he was drawing a heart on Elise Lyon’s bared breast.

His back was to me, and the machine was loud enough so he didn’t hear me approach. Elise saw me, though, since she was facing the door, and she opened her mouth, but I put my finger over my lips to silence her. She shut her mouth and looked at Chip’s hands. He hadn’t even put on a pair of gloves.

Scratcher.

“Did you really believe that I would love her more than you?” Chip was asking. “Did you think I’d marry that slut instead of you? You should’ve just stayed home, and we would’ve been married right now.”

“I couldn’t marry you.”

“Oh, that’s right. Matt was the love of your life. I thought he was being a good friend, offering to come out here