The Missing Ink by Karen E. Olson

up.”
    “And no one saw her again,” she said ominously to the camera. “We have a copy of the devotion tattoo Elise Lyon requested,” she said, holding up the sketch I’d drawn. Elise’s original drawing was still in my bag, where I’d put it before heading to Murder Ink last night.
    I instinctively glanced at Bitsy, who was frowning. She probably gave the sketch to the producer, thinking he’d put her on camera, and then he screwed her.
    But Bitsy wasn’t the only one getting screwed.
    Chip Manning was, too.
    Because the camera zoomed in on my sketch. Complete with the “Matthew” inside the heart.
    Alison Cho didn’t notice. She put the piece of paper in her lap and thanked me for my time.
    It was over.
    I stood up, trying to yank the mike and wire off my person, and was happy to see the producer come over to me. I assumed he’d help me out, but his mouth was set in a grim line.
    “That drawing. It was the wrong one.”
    Alison’s head snapped back. “What?”
    “It was the wrong drawing.” He looked at Bitsy, who’d come up next to me. “Why didn’t you give me the right one? Was it because we didn’t put you on camera?”
    So Bitsy’s attitude had not gone unnoticed.
    From the look on her face, I could see she was going to say something she’d probably regret, so I jumped in. “It was the right one.”
    His gaze moved from Bitsy to me. “But it said Matthew. Not Chip, or even Bruce.”
    “That’s right.” I met his stare.
    “You mean she wanted a tattoo with another man’s name on it?” Alison was justifiably curious, her journalistic instincts kicking into full gear.
    I took a page from Tim’s playbook. “No comment,” I said.
    Alison Cho looked like she’d just landed an interview with Osama bin Laden. “Do the police know about this?” she asked.
    I shook my head. “I can’t say anything else.”
    Alison turned to the producer. “Get the police spokesman on the phone. We need to get over there now and find out what this is about.” She looked at me one last time. “This is your chance to have another few minutes on TV.”
    I tossed the black box to the producer. “I didn’t want the ones I just had.”
    She smiled. “Suit yourself. Thank you for your time, and for letting us disrupt your business.”
    She was nice, I had to give her that, but I was glad when they were all gone and the shop was quiet.
    “Do you think they’ll get anything out of the police?” Ace asked.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. Maybe the cops will want the media’s help in finding her, and this was a pretty interesting clue.” I thought about the two Matthews again. If I’d found out about them so easily, then it wouldn’t take the police long, either.
    Ace and Bitsy moved the furniture back to where it belonged, and I grabbed the Ann Taylor bag. I needed to change before my first client came in. I didn’t want to risk getting ink on my new trousers.
    I had to admit that I was liking them. I wondered how they’d look on TV tonight.
    Just as I was about to go into the bathroom to change, the phone rang on the front desk. Bitsy was in the staff room with Ace and Joel, so I picked it up.
    “The Painted Lady,” I said.
    “Kavanaugh?” I recognized Jeff Coleman’s voice.
    “Yeah? What do you want?”
    “I really thought I could trust you.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s a good thing I’ve got better friends than you, friends who look out for me.”
    “What do you mean?” I didn’t point out that we weren’t exactly friends.
    “Cops. They’ve got a warrant. They want to arrest me in Kelly’s murder.”

Chapter 15
    “Where are you, Jeff?” I asked.
    “No need for you to know that.”
    “I didn’t say anything. I haven’t even seen my brother since yesterday morning,” I said. He didn’t have to know I might have told Tim if I’d seen him.
    Jeff was quiet a moment, then, “There’s something going on.”
    “No kidding.”
    “Someone’s setting me up. I