Free Pretty In Ink by Karen E. Olson Page B

“mistake,” it had gone wrong somehow.
    “It’s up on Las Vegas Boulevard, just up from the Sahara.” Trevor had turned green. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    Joel was one step ahead of him. He’d slung his arm under Trevor’s armpits and was carrying him to the bathroom.
    I’d wanted to ask Trevor whether he knew anyone with a tattoo of a queen-of-hearts playing card, but the sounds that were coming from the bathroom indicated that he wasn’t in a state to have a chat at the moment.
    Joel emerged from the back of the shop. He was moving faster than I’d ever seen him move, and his expression showed his worry. “I think we should call for an ambulance,” he said.
    “It’s that bad?” I asked, but Bitsy was one step ahead of me.
    She had the phone in her hand and was giving our location.
    The paramedics showed up in less than ten minutes. Trevor was still in the bathroom. I hoped our next client would be late, because Trevor being sick wouldn’t be good for business.
    Two paramedics guided a gurney toward the back of the shop, and after several minutes they wheeled Trevor out quickly. Mall shoppers stopped and watched the gurney rolling off into the distance. One paramedic stuck around and asked questions: When did Trevor become ill? What had he been like when he arrived? How long had he been in the bathroom?
    We answered as well as we could. I wanted to tell him I still had questions of my own, but they would have to wait until Trevor was feeling better.
    “He was in the hospital overnight,” I offered and found myself telling the paramedic about the incident at Chez Tango last night. “But that wouldn’t make him sick like this, would it?” I asked.
    The paramedic shook his head. “You never know. Or it could be flu.” He added that maybe we should disinfect everything, just in case Trevor was contagious. Great.
    He left Bitsy and Joel and me staring at one another, looking at our hands—had we touched anything Trevor had touched? Contagious was never good.
    The phone startled us. Bitsy answered, “The Painted Lady,” then listened a few seconds, said, “Okay,” and hung up.
    She turned back to us.
    “Client?” Joel asked.
    She shook her head.
    “That was Ace. He’s with Charlotte.”

Chapter 13
    A ce didn’t tell Bitsy where they were, just that Charlotte was okay and knew the police were looking for her. He said he’d call back later.
    Talk about obstruction of justice.
    I tried his cell, but it was turned off. I left a message.
    I needed to know more about what happened at that pawnshop this morning. I wouldn’t get anything out of DeBurra. But I might get something out of my brother.
    Unfortunately, I got his voice mail. I left a cryptic message and hung up.
    “What’s my schedule like this afternoon?” I asked Bitsy.
    She leafed through the appointment book. “You’ve got a client at seven.” Bitsy tossed her head back at Joel. “You’ve got someone coming in any moment.”
    Shoot. I’d wanted to ask Joel to come with me when I hunted down that pawnshop, but I’d have to go alone.
    He knew what I was up to.
    “Don’t go playing detective, Brett,” Joel said, putting his arm around my shoulders.
    “I have to do something,” I said. “And when I see Ace, I’m going to wring his neck for not telling us where he and Charlotte are.” I gave Bitsy a glare. “I don’t know what you were thinking, letting him just hang up without getting any information out of him.”
    “He said to trust him. I do, so there.” She stuck her tongue out at me.
    It looked so ridiculous, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess I’m just on edge,” I said, and Red Rock Canyon flashed through my thoughts again.
    Bitsy went off to try to disinfect the bathroom and get the stench out of the air that we now noticed was hanging like an invisible cloud.
    I went into the staff room to get my bag, and the tracing paper on the light table caught my eye. I didn’t have the sketch of Wesley