“Yeah, yeah, you said that,” I said, mulling this new information. If Colin Bixby hadn’t 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-”

“Lester’s assistant?”

He knew all the players. How was he involved in all this? Because even though he didn’t have a tattoo, it was all a little too close for comfort.

“That’s right. Rusty Abbott, Lester Fine’s assistant. How do you know him?”

“What about him?” He was evading my question. I’d 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 guy’s name was Colin Bixby.” I leaned back a little, studying his face to see his reaction.

“Well, it wasn’t me,” he said loudly. “I have no idea who it was. And I’ve 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 don’t know what to think,” I said.

Bixby took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Brett, I’m not a drag queen. I’m not gay. I know Kyle because he’s 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.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to say your name is John Smith or something?” I was talking off the top of my head now and didn’t exactly expect an answer.

“Rusty Abbott and I don’t 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?”

“That’s right.”

I had another thought. “You called him Lester. That’s 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 don’t advertise it because he’s a celebrity and all, and I don’t 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 can’t tell you. HIPAA, you know.”

Yeah, I knew. “But you’re an ER doctor. Emergencies only. Do you do procedures?”

Bixby chuckled. “You can’t 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 didn’t think to Google Colin Bixby.

“Is that a no?” he asked.

I shook my head, happy I could be honest, although later I’d 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, I’m not sure it’s 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. “You’ve been thinking about it.”

“I didn’t want to go someplace where I’d get hepatitis, or worse,” he said, waving his hand around to indicate my room. “This looks pretty good. I feel safe here.”

“I’m 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 wasn’t going to tell him that. He might think I would actually close my eyes, and then he’d get spooked. “What about this?” I asked, showing him my sketch.

He nodded slowly. “That’s 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 I’m free for an hour. That should be all it’ll take. I need to make a stencil. I’ll 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 who’s decisive,” she said, looking at the book. “Go ahead. You don’t 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 don’t know. He wouldn’t 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 I’d have to call Jeff before I started Bixby’s ink.

“Murder Ink.”

“Jeff? It’s Brett. What do you want?”

“No foreplay, Kavanaugh? You disappoint me.”

“What do you want?” I repeated. “I haven’t 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?”

“She’s not being investigated.”

I thought about what Tim had said. Was he wrong? “What do you mean?”

“She’s working for them. Undercover. Has been for almost a year now.”

Charlotte? Working for Homeland Security? “What’s she doing for them?”

“She’s been getting them information about that Lambert guy, the one you found dead in that condo.”

“It’s the ricin, right?”

“He’s involved with some sort of militia out in the desert.”

So it wasn’t drugs. It really was terrorism.

Jeff was still talking. “There was something about Lester Fine, too, but they got all squirrelly, Kavanaugh. Wouldn’t tell me more than that, and they were all nervous about telling me what they did.”

“Why did they, then?”

“Why did they what?”

“Tell you.”

I could hear a low chuckle. “Well, if you really want to know, one guy doesn’t owe me money anymore, and I’ve got a date for Saturday night.”

I didn’t want to know about Jeff’s social life. “Are they really looking for her, or is that all a ruse, too?”

“That’s all I know, Kavanaugh. The rest is up to you.” He hung up.

I sat, staring at my phone for a few seconds.

“Brett?”

Joel’s voice made me jump. I turned to see him coming into the staff room.

“Are you aware you’ve got a hunky guy in your room?”

I nodded. “Yeah, and I’ve got to get this stencil done.” But my hands were shaking and I dropped my sketchpad. Joel leaned down, picked it up, and handed it to me.

“What’s wrong?”

I told him what Jeff Coleman had said about Charlotte working for Homeland Security.

My thoughts were more mixed up than clothes in a dryer. And I still had Colin Bixby to deal with. All of a sudden, he was the last thing on my priority list. But I couldn’t let him down now. It wouldn’t take but an hour.