Chase’s voice blared through the office, and I ducked behind the door before I realized that it was his message machine. I must have hit the speakerphone button earlier. I relaxed a little.
But the next voice made me tense up.
“Simon? It’s Elise. Meet me where the Elvises hang out. Seven o’clock.”
Elise? Elvises?
But before I could wrap my head around it, another noise—a familiar noise—crashed into the silence.
I tightened my grip on the bottle for lack of any other plan.
Because it was the door. The outside door. I heard it open.
Chapter 37
Joel couldn’t have made it up here that fast. Panic rose in my chest, and without thinking, I ran back into the monitor room and shut the door behind me. Maybe not the smartest thing to do, but getting caught wasn’t high on my list of priorities at the moment.
Heavy footsteps.
“Chase?” The big voice bounced off the walls. Manning.
I heard him open the bathroom door. Guess he didn’t much respect people’s personal privacy.
It didn’t bode well for me, since this room was the only other option, and when the footsteps came close, I held my breath, hoping I could just flatten myself against the wall behind the door and not be noticed.
The knob turned, and a sliver of light sliced into the room, cutting across the monitors. Seconds felt like hours, then—
“Bruce?”
I hadn’t heard Simon Chase come in because I’d been too distracted by Manning, who pulled the door shut with a slam.
Their voices were muffled, like they were talking inside a tunnel.
“You were supposed to meet me in the lobby.” Manning wasn’t happy. But was he ever? “I left you a message.”
“I didn’t get it. I’ve been downstairs.” I imagined Chase going over to his desk to check his phone. The red light was blinking.
“We really need to take care of this.” The urgency was clear in Manning’s voice.
“I understand, but can you trust me on this? It’s better if he just goes back for a while. He can come back later. In a month or so. When it’s all died down.”
I wondered if they were talking about Chip. Maybe Chip really did kill Matt Powell.
My foot had fallen asleep. I shifted a little, the pins and needles shooting up through my calf and causing me to slip. The bottle slid out of my palm—I’d almost forgotten that I was holding it—and I squatted, trying to catch it, but it landed with a thud on the floor.
“Did you hear that?”
I held my breath again at Manning’s words.
“Hear what?”
Nothing for a couple of seconds; I let my breath out softly through my nose.
“Guess it was nothing. Anyway, Chase, I expect you to take some action on this. Show me what you can do for me.”
“You know I will, Bruce.”
A loud knock interrupted, and I froze.
“Yes?”
“Oh, well, oh . . .” It was Joel. He was here for me, but he didn’t expect a party.
“Yes, yes, we have an appointment, don’t we?” Chase’s English accent wrapped itself around his words. Smooth, very smooth.
Chase told Manning that he had to attend to this right now, but he’d be with him in about half an hour, would that be all right?
“Aren’t you—”
Chase cut Manning off as he continued his good-byes. Finally, a door shut.
Not even a second later, the door next to me swung wide, and Chase stepped in, circling around a second before spotting me.
“What are you doing here?”
I didn’t say anything.
“I heard a noise, and when your friend came in, I figured it might be you. What are you doing?”
“Why didn’t you come in, then? When you heard me?” It was easier to ask the questions than answer them.
He gave me a look that made me think he wasn’t going to play along. But then, “I thought at first it might be Penny. She wasn’t at her desk. Manning wouldn’t like it if he knew she was in here.”
“What, is she spying on people for you?” I glanced over at the monitors. Seemed like Penny’s résumé had more than just secretarial skills on it.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again, this time ignoring my question.
I slipped on a little spilled beer and leaned down to pick up the bottle as I followed him out into his office. “I got locked in. I got a text message from you saying to meet you here, but then I realized it wasn’t from you, but by then it was too late, I was in here, the door was locked, I couldn’t get out.” The stream of consciousness flowed freely out of my mouth. I put the bottle on the bar, Chase not even seeming to notice I’d helped myself.
“I didn’t text you,” Chase said, looking from me to Joel, whose expression told me he was having a hard time figuring out what was going on.
I shrugged. “I know that now. But I didn’t know it before. The person who texted me said I should do the same thing as yesterday, tell them downstairs about Mickey and Minnie, and here I am. If Manning sees me, I’m dead.” Immediately I regretted my choice of words, but in their confusion, no one seemed to notice.
“You’re right about that,” Chase said. “What was the number?”
“What?”
“The number the text message came from?”
I dug my phone out of my bag and hit some buttons, showing him.
“It’s not my number.”
“I know.”
Chase hit a button on the phone and listened a couple minutes before handing it back to me. “No answer, no voice mail.”
I couldn’t help myself. “What’s up with this Mickey and Minnie business?”
“I have no idea,” he said, but something crossed his face, something that told me he knew exactly what it was all about.
“Does everyone use the same code?” I couldn’t help but push; it was too intriguing. Did they do that at every resort in Vegas? I’d never heard anything about it if they did.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, and his face didn’t give him away this time.
We stared at each other a couple of seconds. I opened my mouth, then shut it again.
“What?” he asked.
“Well, you might have gotten a phone call while I was here.” I paused. “And it might have been on speakerphone.”
Chase cocked his head to one side, studying me. “And who might it have been?” Without waiting for me to answer, he stepped around his desk and picked up the phone, hitting the MESSAGE button. He listened to Elise’s message, then set the receiver down carefully, not looking at me or Joel, but staring out the window.
“So she’s alive,” I said softly.
His head swung around, his eyes meeting mine. “I’ll get you out of here without Manning seeing you.”
“Where are the Elvises?”
Chase shook his head. “I’m getting you and your friend out of here. I’ll call you.”
Right. That’s what they all say. And then they never do. I wasn’t born yesterday.
He must have seen my thoughts written all over my face, because he smiled as he came over to me and ran his finger along my cheek, causing goose bumps to rise, among other things. “I really will call you,” he promised, then looked up at Joel, all business now.
Joel was trying not to snicker, and I shot him a look.
“Did you valet park?” he asked us.
We both shook our heads.
“That makes it easier.”
Chase took my elbow and led us out through his office and Penny’s office and into the hall. Instead of taking us to the elevator we’d both come up in, he brought us around the corner and down a flight of stairs to another elevator.
“This will take you out to the loading dock out back,” he said. “When you get there, go outside and walk around to your left to the parking lot. Don’t stop to talk to anyone. Just look like you’re sup
posed to be there, and they’ll leave you alone.”
The elevator doors opened, and Joel stepped inside. Just as I was about to follow him, Chase put his arm across the door, his body so close to mine I could feel his heat, his deep brown eyes mesmerizing.
“Don’t think about hanging around to follow me.”
I opened my mouth to say I wasn’t—even though the thought had crossed my mind—but he stopped me by leaning in, his lips brushing mine, his tongue most definitely in play. He tasted like cognac, and I caught my breath, but this time it was in a good way.
He pulled away too soon. It was a tease, and his fingers lightly ran down my arm and cupped my hand, caressing my palm.
“I’ll call,” he whispered, then stepped back.
I sidestepped him and joined Joel in the elevator, the doors closing on Simon’s face, and we fell with a jolt.
To his credit, Joel didn’t start chuckling until the doors opened again.
“He likes you,” he said. “And it looks like you like him back.”
“What are we, in seventh grade? Can we just get out of here?” I felt the flush crawling up my neck, and I needed a distraction.
“What’s up with Elise?”
I filled Joel in as we followed Simon’s instructions, passing a few Mexicans loading and unloading whatever it was they had delivered back here, but no one bothered us.
“I think we have to follow him,” I said.
“I think you’re right.”
At least we were on the same page with this one.
Problem was, we weren’t exactly sure just where Simon’s car was, what he drove, or how we’d follow through on this plan. And we had two cars, since we’d both driven here.
“Do you know anything about Elvises and where they hang out?”
“Brett, there’s an Elvis on every corner here.”
No kidding.
“Bitsy might know,” Joel offered. “Remember last year she dated that Elvis? The little-person Elvis? I’ll call her.” He pulled out his cell and dialed. I heard him tell Bitsy he was okay, Brett had overreacted, but he needed to ask her if the Elvises in town had a place they hung out. He listened a couple seconds, thanked her, then closed his phone.
“Got it,” he said. “Let’s take your car. It’s right here. I’m parked all the way over on the other side of the garage and up a couple levels.”
“Where are we going?”
“Viva Las Vegas.”
“Where?”
“It’s a club off the Strip on Charleston. It’s all karaoke, all the time, and it’s all Elvis songs. Bitsy says she’s never seen more Elvises in one place than there.”
“But it’s a shot in the dark.” The thought of karaoke alone made me shudder; the idea of Elvis karaoke was enough to make me run screaming from the room.
“It’s the only shot we’ve got.”
We climbed into my Mustang, and as I maneuvered our way out of the Versailles driveway, I discovered we had another problem.
The white Dodge Dakota had parked itself on my butt again as we pulled out onto the Strip.
Chapter 38
“Lose him,” Joel instructed.
“Lose him? What are we, on Miami Vice?”
“This is the Bullitt car, isn’t it?” Joel asked with a tinge of sarcasm. “Wasn’t that the best car chase ever in movies? Steve McQueen on the streets of San Francisco?”
“Now you want a car chase?” I gripped the steering wheel tightly, glancing in the rearview mirror at the Dakota and then through the front windshield at the line of traffic in front of me. “No way. No freakin’ way.”
“You’re no fun,” Joel muttered, and I could’ve sworn he was serious.
Joel told me when to turn right and left, and the Dakota was following the directions beautifully. Like he knew where we were heading.
Either that or I was going so slowly it was much too easy for him.
For a few seconds I did consider trying to “lose him,” but since I’m a law-abiding citizen who drives the speed limit, I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it.
It was now around seven o’clock, and the sky had started to change slightly from its daytime look. I hoped it was too early for karaoke, but when we pulled into the parking lot at Viva Las Vegas alongside about a hundred shiny silver motorcycles, I knew there was a party going on inside. We could hear it, too, as we stepped out of the car, no longer in our air-conditioned cocoon. I could even feel it against the bottoms of my feet, the bass thumping like an earthquake. Not that I knew what an earthquake felt like, but it seemed right.
I glanced around, but the Dakota had disappeared. Maybe the big neon sign advertising KARAOKE TONIGHT had frightened him off. I was sorry I couldn’t hitch a ride and leave this little adventure to Joel.
And to Bitsy?
I recognized the silver MINI Cooper as it pulled in behind the Mustang. She got out and scurried toward us.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Bitsy grinned. “I love this place. I’ve always wanted another excuse to come here.”
“But you could come here anytime.”
“No one ever wants to come with me, and I can’t call Rick again. Our breakup was pretty hard on him.”
Bitsy was picky about men and had left two ex-husbands in her wake, as well as more boyfriends than I could keep track of.
She was already halfway inside the door, and Joel shrugged at me. I sighed. If Simon and Elise didn’t show up here, I didn’t know what I’d do. Because it looked like Bitsy was here for the long run.
“So Ace is at the shop?” I asked, uncertain I wanted him running the place. He’d never been there alone, or closed up alone, as long as I’d owned the shop.
Bitsy waved her hand at me as she walked to the bar. “He’s fine. Don’t worry about it. He used to close up all the time when Flip was here and I was going through my second divorce.”
If Bitsy wasn’t worried, then I knew I shouldn’t be. But it would be a good reason to leave.
“Don’t even think about it,” Joel whispered, reading my mind. “We’re on a mission. Your mission.”
I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.
We walked down a long hallway, and when my eyes adjusted to the dark interior, I began to notice the decor. The walls were black, speckled with huge movie posters for—what else—Viva Las Vegas, Elvis and Ann-Margret cartoony and frozen in a dance step. Black lights illuminated Joel’s white shirt, turning him into a beacon moving toward the bar. I was still wearing the purple top and white trousers, and I felt like a magician’s trick.
When we stepped through a black curtain, the cavernous room spread out in front of us, the lights dim, fading everyone to a soft sepia. Maybe they thought we’d look better that way. The red and blue skinny lights hanging over the long, sleek, black marble bar offered a splash of color, but it was more like I was in a cave, expecting to feel the drops from stalactites descending from the ceiling, but instead only the whoosh of air-conditioning came from an unseen vent.
A stage with a red curtain was across the room, and small, round cocktail tables with chairs sat between the bar and the stage.
Those things didn’t worry me. It was the clientele. We were the only ones there who were not dressed like Elvis. Even the few women in the room were wearing black wigs, big Elvis sunglasses—despite the low light—and white se quined pantsuits. There must have been fifty Elvises, but a glance around the room told me Simon Chase and Elise Lyon were not among them, unless they, too, were in costume. Somehow I couldn’t see Simon playing dress-up. Elise . . . well, I didn’t know her, so who knew how she got her rocks off. She did set this meeting up.
But on the whole, it felt like a big bust.
I tugged on Joel’s arm; he’d already ordered and handed me a Corona. Bitsy was seated in front of a pink Cosmo the size of a Cadillac. She wore a huge smile as she flirted with the bartender, who seemed captivated. That was the other thing about Bitsy: She didn’t just date
little people. She’d had her share of taller men; the last one looked like Aidan Quinn but his voice was higher.
“Excuse me.”
I glanced around into the face of one of the ubiquitous Elvises, leering at me as he leaned one elbow on the bar, his body invading my personal space.
I shook my head. “Not interested,” I said.
He straightened up. “Not interested in what?”
“In you.” I couldn’t be more blunt.
“Excuse me, miss, but I was going to ask if you would like to sign up for karaoke.”
So sue me for misunderstanding.
“It’s still a no.” I turned away from him and took a drink from my bottle.
“I’ll sign up!” Bitsy heaved herself off her bar stool and went over to him, telling him her name and saying she’d be up for singing everything.
I rolled my eyes at Joel, who grinned.
“She likes it here,” he said.
“We’re not here to sing karaoke.”
“You may not be, but I think she is.”
The bartender had handed Bitsy her drink over the bar and she carried it, sloshing only slightly, as she followed the karaoke Elvis and his clipboard up toward the stage. This was my worst nightmare.
“I don’t think I want to stay,” I said.
“We can’t leave her here alone.”
“I should go to the shop and check on Ace,” I tried.
“But then you’d miss Simon Chase.”
“He’s not coming here. I have no clue where he’s meeting Elise.” I finished off my beer, putting the bottle on the bar. I was about to get up when Joel put his hand on my arm.
“Don’t be too sure about that,” he said.
Instinctively, I started to turn to look toward the door, but he said, “Don’t look.”
It wasn’t as if Simon Chase wouldn’t notice us here, since we stuck out like the proverbial sore thumbs.
“Where is he?” I whispered.
“He’s going toward the back, toward the restrooms.”
I slid off the stool.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To the restroom,” I said, seeing Simon’s head bobbing up and down among the Elvises.
The Missing Ink: A Tattoo Shop Mystery Page 17