Tattooed to Death Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  TATTOOED TO DEATH

  Heather Redmond

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2020

  in Great Britain and 2021 in the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  Eardley House, 4 Uxbridge Street, London W8 7SY.

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2021 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  This eBook edition first published in 2020 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited.

  Copyright © 2020 by Heather Redmond.

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The right of Heather Redmond to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8951-5 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-738-5 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0460-8 (e-book)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This eBook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  ONE

  ‘I could just kill her,’ a woman griped. ‘Worst massage ever.’

  Mandy Meadows scowled as she recognized the voice coming from the front counter of the University of Seattle Hospital coffee bar. Hidden in the bar’s prep room while her boss, Fannah, manned the counter, she ignored the tantrum, tucked her tongue into the side of her mouth, and carefully drew the red lacing on a baseball cookie with a piping bag. When she had finished, she adjusted her Seattle Mariners blue headband, encouraging her curls away from her lip gloss.

  Fannah had decided they should enhance their house-made offerings with frosted sugar cookies since Mandy’s creations were already their bestsellers. She did what she could to keep their profit margin way above the cafeteria’s.

  Mandy’s new co-worker, Houston Harris, shot Mandy a look of horror through the door as he tied a clean USea Hospital apron over his Mariners T-shirt. ‘I guess the new chair massage service isn’t a hit with someone. Why are they complaining about it at the coffee bar?’

  ‘That’s my friend, Reese,’ Mandy explained. ‘She’s a nurse in the podiatry office next door. Total pussycat with their child patients.’

  ‘Umm, that’s great, but shouldn’t you intervene before she attacks Fannah with a plastic knife?’ The Alaska native had only worked at the coffee bar a few weeks.

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s not Fannah she’s mad at and I need to get these done.’ Mandy angled the frosting tip over another cookie.

  ‘Aren’t you curious about what happened?’ Houston asked.

  ‘Nah.’ Mandy winked at the kid and pressed frosting through the bag. ‘Reese lives across the street from me. I can hear about it after work.’

  Houston hunched his narrow shoulders and walked out of Mandy’s view. Just twenty, he still had the look of a newborn colt despite having a face that checked all the cuteness boxes.

  She appreciated her new steady seven-to-three-thirty work schedule, but Wednesdays were always extra hectic, because Fannah worked her oddball shift for inventory purposes and the lead weekend barista, Beverly, swapped in for the first part of the day. The hospital’s board of directors met on Wednesdays too, and since the coffee they served in the boardroom wasn’t very good, the directors usually came in a clump during the half hour from nine thirty to ten when all four of the employees were jockeying for space in the tight area.

  ‘Mandy!’

  She shot to attention when she heard her boss’s voice. After setting down her frosting bag, she removed her gloves, washed her hands, and went through the back room into the coffee bar.

  Fannah extended a model-slim arm at her and gestured gracefully. ‘Please fill out a catering order for Miss O’Leary-Sett. I need to make a phone call.’

  She glided past Mandy as if on the catwalk she used to call her professional home. Mandy was left facing Reese – nurse, neighbor, and fellow journaling video blogger.

  Stunning half-Bengali, half-Irish Reese, however, wasn’t at the top of her form. One shoulder was hunched up to her neck, which was tilted at a strange, canted angle.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Mandy asked. ‘I could hear you all the way in the prep room. My daughter didn’t yell that loudly when you buddy-taped her broken toe.’

  Reese fluttered her eyelashes. Mandy suspected they were real, despite their lush length, even though Reese had been a movie makeup recreator in a past phase.

  ‘I just had the chair massage from hell in the hospital lobby. How am I going to survive the afternoon like this? I’m due back at work in five minutes.’

  Keeping her gaze locked on her friend’s face, Mandy gently placed her hands on Reese’s shoulders, then pressed down on the one that had crept up. She heard a pop somewhere around Reese’s shoulder.

  ‘Wow, you aren’t kidding,’ Mandy said.

  Reese sniffed and rubbed her shoulder. ‘My friendship with Coral is over.’

  ‘Who is Coral?’

  ‘Coral Le Charme? The massage therapist? I never should have recommended her for the job.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had anything to do with the new chair massage people.’ Mandy pulled out a catering form.

  Reese’s lips tightened. She bent her head forward, her neck crackling as she lifted it again. ‘I could kill Coral for hurting me so much.’

  ‘I’ll fix you right up,’ Houston said, as two elderly customers shuffled away, their smoothies tucked into the holding pouches on their walkers. He grinned at Reese and lifted his hands into the air.

  She ignored him and kept her eyes on Mandy.

  ‘Let’s not talk about killing people,’ Mandy begged. ‘It’s been less than a month since the attack on me, and I’m just starting to feel comfortable here again. Now, you wanted to make a catering order?’

  ‘Fine,’ Reese groused. ‘I’m throwing a little party in the office at the end of the day.’

  Houston leaned in. ‘I hope you invite me.’

  Reese
spoke as if Houston wasn’t there. ‘Baby shower for the office manager.’

  ‘You didn’t plan ahead?’

  Reese’s shoulder made crackling noises as she tried to shrug. ‘I have all the shower stuff and the cake. I just need the drinks. You’re open until six, right?’

  ‘Can you send someone to pick up the drinks?’ Mandy asked.

  ‘I’m off at five,’ Houston broke in. ‘I can deliver them.’

  ‘We close at four,’ Reese explained, turning her big, beautiful eyes to Houston for the first time. ‘I need the drinks then. Mandy, can’t you?’

  ‘I can bring them after three thirty,’ Mandy offered. ‘Vellum has a yearbook meeting so I can hang out.’ Divorced, she lived with her daughter in the upstairs of her house, and rented out the daylight basement.

  ‘Stay for the party,’ Reese invited. ‘I’ll buy you a drink, too. Just add yours and I’ll pay for it all now.’ She handed Mandy a list of eight drink orders.

  A line had formed behind Reese at the cash register, so Mandy pulled her friend to the side to finish while Houston took care of the next customers. Mandy added a tall mocha to the order for herself and took the credit card Reese offered. ‘Thanks for the invite.’ Maybe cake and the excitement of a little one coming would be just what she needed.

  ‘Should we invite Fannah, too?’ Reese asked. ‘Does she have friends in the complex?’

  ‘She works until six,’ Mandy explained. ‘I’m the only one free.’

  Reese slowly bent her head from side to side. ‘I just think we should all stick together, after what happened to you.’

  Mandy nodded and handed Reese her credit card back. ‘Then maybe you should be nicer to Houston. I know he doesn’t fit your Hindu dating profile, but he’s a decent kid.’

  Reese rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, Mandili. We have to have some standards.’

  Mandy laughed despite herself. ‘OK, you don’t have to be friendly with him, but I do.’

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Reese shuddered. ‘He’s not much older than your daughter.’

  Mandy chuckled. Houston and Reese were closer in age than she and Reese were.

  Fannah sent Mandy on her lunch break just before noon. An elevator door opened to the lobby before she pushed the button to go to the cafeteria floor, disgorging a couple of nurses from the coronary care unit.

  ‘What’s the special today?’ one of them asked as Mandy held the door.

  ‘Matcha latte, in honor of cherry blossom season,’ she told them.

  ‘That’s green tea, right?’ asked the other nurse.

  Mandy nodded. ‘It’s earthy and addictive. It has about the same amount of caffeine as coffee but you get a more sustained energy boost due to the amino acid content.’

  The first nurse laughed. ‘You should write ad copy.’

  Mandy beamed at the praise and stepped into the elevator. The door closed and she was blissfully alone for a few seconds. The placard on the left held the cafeteria specials for the week, which she’d already memorized since it was Wednesday, but a new announcement had gone up on the left. The hospital was being graced by a lecture on Mindful Meditation by a Bodhi Lee next Wednesday.

  ‘Never heard of him,’ Mandy muttered. Meditation wasn’t for her. Art was her therapy and she was happy to know that what kept her sane also paid quite a few bills.

  Her fateful art journaling class with Reese the previous year had led to a side hustle that was on track to pay her more than her barista job by summer. If only microbusinesses came with health insurance.

  The best part about it, though, was that her social media presence, her classes and product sales could all be shared with fifteen-year-old Vellum. Even when things were a bit rocky in the parent–child relationship, they worked together well. Vellum didn’t have to babysit the bratty Roswell twins next door for cash anymore, and Mandy had a professional partner-in-crime who added tangible and intangible benefits to her business.

  Mandy bypassed the barbecue burger lunch special in favor of the salad-in-a-jar she’d packed, though she grabbed a paper plate. The nook along the windows overlooking the I-5 freeway was only lightly populated, so she settled into a chair and dusted crumbs off the two-top table. Just enough room for her planner and lunch.

  She opened the notebook to this week’s journal spread, then unscrewed the metal lid of her mason jar. Homemade lemon Dijon dressing filled an old spice jar she’d tucked inside. After dumping out her salad of mixed power greens, the kind you could eat raw or sauté or turn into smoothies, she stirred black beans, corn, chicken and cheese into the mix, then topped it all with dressing and a hospital pepper pack.

  Her phone rang as she was pulling a metal fork from her purse. Her daughter’s frowning face had appeared on the screen. ‘Hi, honey.’

  ‘Bad news, Mom.’

  ‘Did your yearbook meeting get cancelled? I’m going to run late tonight, so you’ll probably want to take the bus home.’

  ‘No, all of the members on our new creative site have filled out the poll for May’s theme.’

  In order to secure a steadier stream of income from their business, Mandy had launched a membership on an internet platform, where her customers could pay a monthly fee to receive her stickers and classes. She had followed the model of other creators and set up polls to give her customers some say over the content they received. But that meant giving up control.

  Mandy pushed her fork tines into her lettuce. ‘What’s the verdict?’

  ‘It was a tie. May’s theme is a merge of bunnies and tea.’

  Mandy rubbed her nose. ‘Uh-oh.’

  ‘How did that happen? I know we have new customers signing up every day who could change the poll results. But you like to do our work six weeks ahead, so we’re already running late for May.’

  ‘Yeah, we need to get started. Do you really think our school-age customers will like that theme? It sounds like an old lady Easter mash-up.’

  ‘The journaling community loves animal themes,’ Vellum soothed.

  ‘And beverage themes,’ Mandy added. ‘I guess the bunnies will have to drink tea.’

  Vellum laughed. ‘If this new platform causes more problems, we can always shut it down.’

  ‘We already have enough new customers from it to add five figures a year to our bottom line,’ Mandy said. ‘Let’s make it work. We don’t have to give them options in the poll that we don’t want to do.’

  ‘We can change the rules to say no ties,’ Vellum added. ‘I mean, we can pick one if there’s a tie.’

  ‘Exactly. I’ll rewrite the poll rules tonight.’

  ‘OK, Mom. I’ll see you after my meeting.’

  ‘Sure thing. I should be home before you.’ Mandy disconnected, then sent a kiss emoji over text. When she set her phone down, a man approached her.

  ‘Is this seat taken?’

  Mandy glanced up the lab coat to see Dr Tristan Burrell, a neonatologist who frequented both the coffee bar and, so he claimed, her social media videos.

  His craggy features were punctuated by thick dark brows and piercing blue eyes reminiscent of actor Chris Pine, who Mandy had crushed on since his first Star Trek movie. The unattractive glasses the doctor wore hid his deserved hospital hottie status, and his nature was too unassuming to come on strong, but Mandy had learned what a great guy hid underneath the quiet pleasantry of their interactions.

  ‘Hi, Stan, of course.’ Mandy waved her hand at the other side of the table.

  He placed his tray, with an iced tea and the barbecue burger, then took the seat. ‘Your lunch looks much better than mine.’

  ‘Brought it from home. I never like the Wednesday specials.’

  ‘Burgers aren’t their strong suit. But they do a good job with Meatless Mondays.’

  Mandy nodded. ‘That three-bean chili is better than what I can make at home.’

  ‘Hmm.’ The doctor grimaced at his lunch, then opened the mustard and ketchup packets he’d added to his tray and squeezed them on
to his burger. ‘I thought this might help.’

  ‘I’d have added mayonnaise,’ Mandy told him.

  ‘I didn’t think of that. It might have cut the vinegar.’

  ‘Do you want me to grab you some?’

  ‘No, no. I only have ten minutes to eat.’

  ‘What’s going on in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit today?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re watching a couple of preemies for pneumonia.’

  ‘More than one? Are you afraid that infection is going through the unit?’

  ‘I hope not. That’s when we lose the really fragile babies.’ He sighed. ‘It’s a rollercoaster ride for the families and I hate losing our patients.’

  ‘It’s one thing to know the odds aren’t great, and another thing entirely to have the worst happen,’ Mandy agreed. ‘I get choked up just thinking about it. I guess that’s why I’m the barista and you’re the doctor.’

  Dr Burrell lifted his burger. ‘You brighten a lot of days with that smile of yours, not to mention the excellent coffee and cookies.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She watched him take a bite. It seemed like their customer–barista relationship had taken a turn toward something friendlier over the past six weeks, but she still didn’t know if he was interested in her or Fannah. He flirted with both of them. His low-key nature made it hard to tell. Because Mandy had yet to start dating since her recent divorce, she left the field to Fannah. But Dr Burrell undeniably appealed. A man who spent his career saving babies – who could compare with that?

  Her alarm went off after several minutes of companionable eating in silence. She dropped her fork and dressing container inside and screwed the lid back on her jar.

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ the doctor said, gesturing at her jar.

  ‘No plastic,’ Mandy agreed. ‘My daughter found the salad recipes online.’

  ‘Smart kid,’ Dr Burrell said.

  ‘Do you have any?’ Mandy asked as she stood.

  ‘I do actually.’

  Mandy paused, surprised. ‘Are you divorced, too?’

  ‘No, never married.’

  She pointed to the corner of his mouth.

  He wiped off a small glob of turmeric-yellow mustard. ‘My daughter is seventeen. She’s out there somewhere. An open adoption.’