That Touch of Ink Read Online Free PDF Page B

our victim,” Tex said.
    “Since when do you report in to me about your cases?”
    “He was shot,” he said, ignoring my question. “Five times.”
    “Sounds like someone didn’t like him.”
    “One new one. You might have seen that one. And four old bullet wounds. Healed, mostly. Scattered over his thigh. Can’t tell if they were from the same gun that killed him until I get a report from ballistics and that’s going to take some time. He probably walked with a limp. Sound familiar?”
    I misunderstood. “Tex, I have a torn ACL, not a series of gunshot wounds. Just because I occasionally walk with a limp doesn’t mean I’m a card-carrying member of the ‘injured below the waist’ club.”
    One of Tex’s eyebrows shot up for a second, and his eyes flicked to a place below my waist that was definitely not my knee. His gaze returned to my eyes. “He didn’t have any identification, so for now he’s a John Doe.”
    “But I talked to someone at Paper Trail not long before I got there. He said he was Stanley Mann. If the man I found wasn’t Stanley, then where is Stanley?”
    “We don’t know. There’s a chance you didn’t talk to Stanley Mann but someone using his name. Based on what we know, our vic might have attracted attention because of his injury. Somebody might remember him, help us figure out who he is. Once we have an identity, we can start working on why he was at Paper Trail. We’re putting out information to the public, trying to figure out if anybody knows anything.”
    “No wallet?”
    “No wallet. No identification at all. Expensive suit, fancy shoes, Rolex. That’s about it.”
    “Why would someone take his wallet but not his Rolex? Especially if it was valuable?”
    Suddenly, Tex looked behind me. I turned around. Brad approached, walking casually.
    “Maddy, I was worried about you.”
    He slid his arm around my waist. His fingers rested on my hip, above the pleats on my dress. He and Tex stared at each other for a few seconds.
    Tex’s face went rigid. Until this moment, the only knowledge he had of Brad Turlington was from the strip of film we’d watched together at the theater. I didn’t want to make an introduction, but I wondered why neither of them were doing it for themselves.
    “I told you, I needed fresh air,” I said.
    I felt Tex’s eyes on me while I faced Brad. Brad tipped his head down and kissed my cheek. “You want to leave?”
    “I’ll be back inside in a second.”
    Tex uncrossed his arms and stood straight. “I need to be getting out of here anyway. You kids have fun tonight.”
    Without moving my head, my eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them. Brad’s hand dropped from my waist, and his fingers closed around my hand. He stepped toward the restaurant and gently pulled me with him. I took two steps and then pulled away, back toward Tex.
    He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “Call me tomorrow. I’d like to know your take on things.”
    I nodded, then returned to Brad’s side and went back into the restaurant.
    “Who was that?” Brad asked as we reseated ourselves at the table.
    “Did I forget to introduce you two? I’m sorry.”
    “Forget about it. I have to understand that you have a life here, a life that I wasn’t a part of. Is he one of your clients?”
    “Not exactly.” I stared at the windows that faced the parking lot, wondering about the real motivation behind Tex’s appearance. The only reason he knew where to find me was because I’d told him. Was he there to check out Brad?
    Brad put his elbows on the table and folded his hands in front of him. When he rested his chin on his knuckles, I saw the fine brown hair on his forearms, where his white shirt rode up at his wrists.
    “You still have the watch,” I said absentmindedly.
    He sat up and put a hand on his wrist, then spun his watch around in a circle. The band was black crocodile, setting off a white face with black roman numerals, set in 22 karat gold. It was a