by Karen Olson
When he gets here, just let me know, okay?
I went down the hall and into the staff room, where I settled in at the light table. I had a sketch to do for a client tomorrow, but just as I put pencil to paper, the corner of my messenger bag as it hung over the chair caught my eye. Thats right. Trevors laptop.
I put the pencil down and got the bag, sliding the laptop out and setting it on the table. I lifted the cover and turned it on.
A bunch of folder icons littered the screen when it booted up. They were tagged with dates, nothing else. I clicked on one.
Pictures. Seven of them, of Trevor in various stages of development and finally ending up as Britney Brassieres. A glance at the date on the folder told me that this was two weeks ago. I clicked on a video file, and the movie started. It was a how-to: how to become a drag queen in seven minutes. Although Trevors narration told me that it really took two hours from start to finish.
Interesting, but I didnt think this was anything special.
I clicked on another folder; this one was dated a week ago.
These looked like Britney Brassieress publicity shots. She was all dolled up with that long, big, blond wig and eyelashes that curled out about two inches. Each picture had her in a different costume: the Catholic schoolgirl skirt and blouse; a cheetah-print bodysuit; a short, white, sequined dress that rode up high enough so if Trevors jewels fell out it would create quite a stir.
I closed the folder and opened another one. This one had a date from about six months ago.
Trevor and Kyle and Stephan all as themselves sitting around what was obviously Trevors apartment, holding martini glasses and mugging for the camera. Clicking on a couple of the other pictures told me these were from a party. I noted that Trevor had actually cleaned up the apartment a little, although the exercise equipment still sported the wigs. Maybe it was just a conversation piece.
Id like to listen in on that one.
This was getting me nowhere.
I looked in Trevors documents, but nothing seemed unusual. He had a folder called taxes, and I clicked on that, just out of curiosity.
The files went back five years, from what I could see. I wondered how long Charlotte had been doing his taxes for him. If, in fact, she actually had ever done his taxes. I was doubting mostly everything Charlotte had told us now. I mentally slapped myself. Of course shed done his taxes. Hed told us that himself. Then again, if he was in on it with her, then he could lie, too.
I mulled over what they could be in on together. I still didnt have a clue.
As I opened the file for this past year, I could almost hear Sister Mary Eucharista telling me I should respect a persons privacy. But Trevor was dead, and someone shot at me. I figured Id get a pass on this.
I found a Word document with all Trevors deductions: wigs, costumes, makeup, shoes. I wished I could deduct my shoes.
An Excel document had two lists of numbers. When my eyes adjusted to the little boxes, I focused on the first column and figured they had to be dates, because they were noted as 2/1, 3/1, 4/1. If they were dates, they ran the course of about ten months. The column next to it showed 3,000, 5,000, and one 10,000. A quick add off the top of my head indicated that the total was around 50,000.
I leaned back in my seat for a second. That was about how much Trevor had in those boots. This money came from somewhere, but nothing indicated where.
I touched the pad again, closing the Excel document and eyeing a few PDFs, all of them of Trevors 1099 wagesmoney hed made freelancing his wares. Chez Tango was there, as well as a couple of other clubs. But those werent the most interesting.
The 1099 from Lester Fine was.
According to this, Trevor made almost a hundred thousand dollars in the previous year working for Lester Fine. I scanned the PDF and saw a notation for bodyguard.
Trevor? Really? That was a lot of money to pay a skinny little queen to be a bodyguard.
What was Lester Fine really paying him for? Was the money in the boots part of this?
I found the connection to the Internet and opened Fire-fox. I scanned his sidebar of bookmarks.
I clicked on one for a credit union, hoping it was his account and that Trevor had saved his password. I smiled when I saw the login and password pop into the boxes. I hit return and waited a second before Trevors accounts showed up. I clicked on the checking account. He had fifty dollars and thirty-three cents. Sad. But there was also a link for a savings account. I clicked.
Forty-two dollars and three cents.
Had Trevor just cashed the checks from Lester Fine and hid the money in his boots? Seemed a little odd, since he had an account and a place to put it. Maybe he was worried about so much going in.
I kept coming back to my original question of what he was doing for Lester Fine to make so much money.
I looked at the bookmarks again.
Hmmm. Facebook. I clicked on it, and the page popped up, complete with Trevors saved password and login.
I made a mental note to take my passwords and log-ins out of my own laptop. I didnt want someone poking around in my life like I was poking around in Trevors.
His last Facebook status had been recorded the afternoon before the Chez Tango show: Trevor McKay is all tatted up and ready to go.
A rush of sadness overwhelmed me as I noted his birth date. Hed been only twenty-six. And to be taken down by a champagne cork, well, that wasnt right.
His favorite musicians were Donna Summer, Wham!, Boy George and Culture Club, George Michael, and the Bee Gees. He was only twenty-six? It was as if hed been living in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Britney Spears was not on the list.
This was a total bust. I started to log out, then paused a second and clicked on Trevors pictures. I had a feeling I might see something familiar.
I was right. The photos in the folders on his desktop were categorized as photo albums on Facebook. He probably had uploaded them and then forgot to delete the folders.
I glanced over toward the door and could hear Bitsy and Joel laughing about something. Obviously, Colin Bixby had not arrived yet. My watch told me he was late now. I wasnt going to get too upset about it. I really had no idea what I was going to say to him when I saw him.
I absently clicked through Trevors pictures from his party and smiled at one of Kyle wearing a pair of Trevors boots and one of the wigs. It might have been the one he ended up wearing home yesterday, but then they all started looking alike after a while.
Just like all the boys.
Except one.
She had a mane of blond hair and wore a sexy white minidress that was sleeveless on one arm and had a long sleeve on the other. Her biceps were buff, in a good way, like Michelle Obamas. Her face wasnt as long and thin as some of the others, but the makeup was impeccable. She was gorgeous. But it was none of those things that struck me.
On the forearm that was bare, she had a queen-of-hearts playing-card tattoo.
I took a deep breath. Could this possibly be Colin Bixby? I tried to see him in her but failed. That wasnt a total surprise. These guys transformed themselves so well.
Something about her seemed familiar. I knew Id seen her before. I shut my eyes and tried to picture her. This was bothering me.
Until it hit me.
This was the woman Id seen across the street from Chez Tango when I discovered that the tires were slashed on Jeffs car.
Had Colin Bixby slashed the tires? He was scheduled to arrive here any minute. How was I going to react to him now?
Kyle could probably tell me for sure who she was. I wished I could print the picture, but the laptop wasnt hooked up to a printer. Id just have to ask him to go to Facebook and check it out.
Granted, when Colin Bixby showed up, I could confront him about it, but Id have to play that by ear. I wasnt sure I was ready to go public with this just yet.
I closed Facebook and opened the folder with the
photos in it again. A quick click confirmed the pictures on Facebook had come from here.
Except there was one more folder. I opened it. There was only one picture in it. This one hadnt been on Facebook.
Brett, hes here. Bitsys voice made my heart jump into my throat.
I looked up to see Colin Bixby hovering behind her in the doorway, a grin on his face. For a second, my heart jumped out of reflex.
Before I shut down the computer, I took another look at the last picture, just to make sure my eyes hadnt been playing tricks on me. And then the screen went black.
I didnt want to have to deal with Colin Bixby now. I wasnt ready for that. What I really wanted to do now was go back over to see if Lester Fine was still at Madame Tussauds.
Because I was pretty sure why Lester was paying Trevor McKay. For his silence. Trevor was guarding Lesters body all right.
Chapter 45
Bitsy stepped aside and let Colin pass her and come into the staff room. He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and a pair of dark jeans that did, indeed, show off that nice butt Bitsy had mentioned. I stood, one hand shutting the laptop, the other in the air to stop him.
Lets go out there, I said, indicating the hall. I moved past him, trying not to notice his musky scent. He must have poured a whole bottle of cologne on himself. But instead of it being a turnoff, I liked it.
I was getting too desperate if I was caving in to a guy who dressed like a girl. I needed a date.
Bixby followed me into my room, where I indicated he should sit in the client chair. I grabbed a sketchbook off the shelf and picked up a pencil before settling onto my chair. I settled a little too fast, though, and it started to roll. I stuck a foot down to stop it, but my knee connected with Bixbys, and he flashed his sexy smile at me.
I cleared my throat and pushed away, my pencil poised.
So what is it you want? I asked, realizing too late that it was a loaded question and could mean just about anything. I mean, well, what sort of ink do you want? Something small? Since its your first one. I couldnt keep the sarcasm out of my tone.
He frowned. Did I do something wrong? he asked.
I sighed. Might as well get this over with. I pointed to his long sleeve on his right arm. Can you just pull that up? I want to see it.
More frowning. See what?
I shook my head. Just do it, okay?
He actually looked puzzled, then unbuttoned the cuff and shoved the sleeve up.
I did a double take. Really.
There was nothing there.
I peered more closely, wondering whether hed had it removed. But I didnt see any signs of laser surgery.
Whats this all about, Brett? he asked, his tone frosty.
I bit my lip and shrugged. I thought you already had a tattoo, I said.
I told you I didnt. And I must really like you, because this isnt something Id do on the spur of the moment.
He didnt sound like he really liked me at the moment, but I was too busy trying to register what he was saying.
But Jeff Coleman I thought about the folder at Murder Ink, how Id seen the name Colin Bixby. I wasnt going crazy; it was there in black and white.
Whos that? he asked. Is he your boyfriend?
I snorted. Absolutely not, I said with more force than I intended. He owns Murder Ink. He said you got a tattoo.
Bixbys eyebrows moved so close together, they looked like theyd become one. I never had a tattoo. I told you that. He looked at my tattoo machine on the counter and sighed. Im not thrilled about needles.
Yeah, yeah, you said that, I said, mulling this new information. If Colin Bixby hadnt been the one at Murder Ink with Wesley Lambert and Rusty Abbott, then who was it? Who was using his name? You said, too, that you know Kyle Albrecht. Do you know Wesley Lambert, too? Shanda Leer, I added, trying to hide my smirk.
I do, he said.
Lambert and a guy named Rusty Abbott
Lesters assistant?
He knew all the players. How was he involved in all this? Because even though he didnt have a tattoo, it was all a little too close for comfort.
Thats right. Rusty Abbott, Lester Fines assistant. How do you know him?
What about him? He was evading my question. Id have to get back to it.
Well, Abbott and Lambert and another guy went to Murder Ink after that Queen of Hearts Ball last year and got queen-of-hearts playing cards inked on their inner right forearms. Jeff Coleman told me that the third guys name was Colin Bixby. I leaned back a little, studying his face to see his reaction.
Well, it wasnt me, he said loudly. I have no idea who it was. And Ive never gone to a tattoo parlor with anyone, anytime. He paused. Except right now.
I had to ask. It was eating me up inside.
How do you know Kyle and Wesley? Are you a drag queen, too?
His eyes grew wide, shock crossing his face. You think . . . His voice trailed off into a sort of cough.
I dont know what to think, I said.
Bixby took a deep breath and forced a smile. Brett, Im not a drag queen. Im not gay. I know Kyle because hes my cousin.
His cousin?
But why would someone use your name when getting a tattoo?
He shrugged. Who knows? But his jaw had tensed, be-lying his nonchalant tone.
Wouldnt it be easier to say your name is John Smith or something? I was talking off the top of my head now and didnt exactly expect an answer.
Rusty Abbott and I dont get along very well. Maybe it was his idea of a joke.
The mention of Abbott veered my thoughts onto another track. So how do you know him? Is it through Lester Fine?
Thats right.
I had another thought. You called him Lester. Thats pretty familiar for someone it seemed like you met just yesterday at the hospital.
Bixby bobbed his head a little in a sort of nod. I know Lester. I dont advertise it because hes a celebrity and all, and I dont want to come across as name-dropping or anything. But I met him several months back when he came into the hospital for a . . . well . . . a procedure.
I grinned. A face-lift?
He shook his head.
Eye work?
He shook his head again. I cant tell you. HIPAA, you know.
Yeah, I knew. But youre an ER doctor. Emergencies only. Do you do procedures?
Bixby chuckled. You cant cut a guy a break, can you?
I just like to find out as much as I can about someone before I ink him. I almost said when I like him, but managed not to slip up.
Did you Google me yet?
Hmmm. That was an idea. I was so wrapped up with Trevor and Lester Fine and Wesley Lambert that I didnt think to Google Colin Bixby.
Is that a no? he asked.
I shook my head, happy I could be honest, although later Id take a quick look. He seemed to know what I was thinking, and he leaned over and put his hand on my knee.
I came here today because I like you, he said softly.
I let myself get lost in his eyes for a second, and it was an extremely pleasant place to be. But then he sat back again, his eyes leaving mine and skipping all around my room. Can we get this over with? he asked.
With that sort of attitude, Im not sure its a good idea, I said.
He flashed me a smile. A Celtic knot. Small. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, and I tried not to catch my breath. He pointed just above his left nipple. Here.
I smiled back, despite myself. Youve been thinking about it.
I didnt want to go someplace where Id get hepatitis, or worse, he said, waving his hand around to indicate my room. This looks pretty good. I feel safe here.
Im glad you feel safe, I said,
sketching out a Celtic knot on my pad. I could do one of these with my eyes closed. But I wasnt going to tell him that. He might think I would actually close my eyes, and then hed get spooked. What about this? I asked, showing him my sketch.
He nodded slowly. Thats exactly right.
You can make an appointment with Bitsy and leave a deposit, I said, standing.
Bixby reached out and caught my hand with his. Now. It has to be now, or I might never come back. He paused. I took a Xanax.
I laughed out loud. Let me check with Bitsy, make sure Im free for an hour. That should be all itll take. I need to make a stencil. Ill be right back.
I could still feel the pressure of his hand on mine as I scurried out to the front desk.
Someone looks happy, Bitsy teased.
He wants me to do it now.
I like a man whos decisive, she said, looking at the book. Go ahead. You dont have anyone coming in for another couple hours.
I had started back toward the staff room to make the stencil when I heard her say, Oh, by the way, Jeff Coleman just called. He wants you to call him right away.
What did he want?
I dont know. He wouldnt say. She rolled her eyes at me. Maybe he wants to make an appointment, too.
I made a face at her, and when I went into the staff room, I grabbed my cell phone out of my bag. I could multitask with the best of them, but Id have to call Jeff before I started Bixbys ink.
Murder Ink.
Jeff? Its Brett. What do you want?
No foreplay, Kavanaugh? You disappoint me.
What do you want? I repeated. I havent got all day.
You might want to make time for this. I made a few calls. About Charlotte. Asked what Homeland Security was investigating her for.
My heart started to beat a little faster, and I put my sketch down. What was it?
Shes not being investigated.
I thought about what Tim had said. Was he wrong? What do you mean?
Shes working for them. Undercover. Has been for almost a year now.
Chapter 46