Pretty In Ink

Charlotte? She’s working for you, isn’t she? Doesn’t she have any answers for you?”

I had succeeded in surprising him. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth hung open. Finally, “How do you know about Charlotte Sampson?”

“So it’s true?”

For a second, something flashed across his face that I couldn’t read. Either it was dismay that I’d just been baiting him and he’d admitted the truth, or it was disgust that I knew something I shouldn’t. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

Finally, he said, “We’re just trying to protect her. That’s why we need to find her.”

His tone seemed sincere, but I was getting tired of going over the same old territory. So I decided we needed a new subject.

“You know, Trevor had a Facebook page.”

He looked at me like I had three heads.

“You know? Facebook? Social networking?”

He snorted. “I know it. What does this have to do with anything?”

I shrugged. “I was looking at the pictures he’s got there and I saw one of a drag queen who looked familiar.”

Something crossed his face that I couldn’t read. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when I said someone slashed my tires? I saw a woman walking by. And I think she was the one I saw in the picture on Trevor’s Facebook page.”

“How can you tell?”

“Looked the same. Even almost the same sort of dress.”

“But not familiar?”

“I didn’t have time to look that closely at it. I’d have to look again. I can show you. Maybe she’s the one who slashed the tires.”

“Why would she want to do that if you don’t even know her?”

Well, now, that was a good question, wasn’t it? “It was just an idea,” I said.

DeBurra stared at me for a second, then said, “Why don’t you leave the ideas to me?”

So we were back to belligerence. Fine.

“I have to get back to work, Detective,” I said, emphasizing the last word as though it were of the four-letter kind.

He studied my face for a second.

“Watch your back,” he said and turned and walked away.

I forgot about the gelato and got back on the escalator. Maybe I should’ve told him about the picture of Lester Fine, too. Maybe then he wouldn’t dismiss me so quickly. But to tell him about that picture would mean I’d have to tell him I had Trevor’s laptop. I wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

My imagination started to go a little crazy: Maybe that money in Trevor’s apartment wasn’t just bodyguard money. Maybe Trevor blackmailed Lester with the picture. Rusty Abbott was at Trevor’s apartment earlier. Maybe he wasn’t just looking for the pin in the makeup case. Maybe he was looking for the laptop, too. Maybe he knew about the photograph.

Lester Fine was running for public office, after all.

Chapter 48

Ace was leaning against the front desk when I got back to the shop. Bitsy was leaning toward him from behind the desk, taking in every word. When I pushed the door open, they both turned to me with deer-in-the-headlights looks, as if they were sharing a secret that no one else was supposed to know about.

“Glad to see you back,” I said to Ace. “What’s going on?” Even though my tone was casual, I was anything but. I wanted to know everything that had gone down at the police station, and he knew it.

“They let me go,” Ace said, stating the obvious. “That cop, the one looking for Charlotte, he brought me back.”

So that was why DeBurra was hanging around. He wasn’t stalking me again. He could’ve told me, though, when I asked him about Ace.

“What about the money?” I asked, ignoring Bitsy’s raised eyebrows. “The money in your account?”

Ace shrugged, his hands moving to his pockets as he slouched. “It’s gone.”

“What do you mean, it’s gone?”

“I guess it was there, and then it was gone. That cop, DeBurra? He kept insisting that I knew where it was.” His eyes grew dark with anger. “I kept telling him that I didn’t know it was there in the first place.”

“So was it?” Bitsy asked.

“Was what?”

I followed what she was thinking. “Was the money really there in the first place?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I saw it on the computer. And then it was gone. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“It disappeared while you were sitting there?”

He snorted. “And they still wouldn’t let me go. I didn’t even touch the mouse.”

“How did they know it was there in the first place?”

Ace ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know. They got into my account somehow.”

“They’re Homeland Security,” I said.

“What, do they think I’m some sort of terrorist or something?”

Bitsy and I shrugged but didn’t answer.

“Where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“I have no idea. Haven’t seen her since yesterday. She was a little nervous.”

No kidding.

I debated whether I should tell him about seeing her on that balcony. But while I was thinking about it, he spoke again.

“She called me this morning, though.”

“What did she say?”

He pulled himself up a little, took his hands out of his pockets. “What is this? The inquisition? I just finished up with that.”

I didn’t much care. “Did you tell the cops you talked to her this morning?”

He sighed, slouching again as if he couldn’t keep up the anger. “I told them everything. Your brother’s the one who got me out. He told that cop DeBurra that he had to let me go. It was clear I didn’t move that money.”

Chalk one up for Tim. I made a mental note to say thank you.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

“Ace has a client coming in later,” Bitsy said loudly. “And you’ve got one coming in, too.”

Nice to know life went on. But I was still feeling a little obsessed with everything that had transpired in the last few days.

I looked at Ace. His usual perfect mane of hair was a little disheveled; he had dark circles under his eyes; his mouth sagged at the corners. I’d never seen him look less than handsome. “If you want to go home, you can,” I said. “You’ve had a long day. I’ll take your client.” I glanced at Bitsy, who was already looking at the appointment book.

“I can switch a few things around,” Bitsy said. “Don’t worry.” This last was to Ace, who looked so relieved that I was happy I’d read him right.