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“I have a credit card receipt if that will help.”
“Sure.” He showed her Terrance’s and Jimmy’s pictures as well as the printout of the credit card purchase. He didn’t say more, wanting her to fill in the gaps.
She took both pictures and studied them. She turned Terrance’s picture around. “That’s the kid who was killed. I saw his picture on the news this morning.”
“Good memory.”
Black nails tapped the edge of the photo. “I have a memory for faces.”
“What about the other guy?”
“He does look familiar. I want to say he got a tiger tattoo.” She keyed the date on the credit card receipt into her computer. “Yeah, he was here just as you said, but he got a tattoo of a lion on his right shoulder blade. I didn’t do the work, but Reggie did.”
“So the kid didn’t get the tattoo?”
“The kid was never here. Just the older guy.” She studied the pictures of the two. “They look like father and son.”
“They are. Can I talk to Reggie?”
“Sure.” She raised a section of the counter and nodded for him to follow her into the back. They moved between burgundy curtains and along a long hallway with three doors on each side.
Shay knocked on the first. “Reggie, can we come in? Five-oh is here to ask a couple of questions.”
After a moment’s hesitation, a gruff voice fired back, “Sure, come on in.”
They found Reggie, a tall muscled man with ink covering his arms and chest. He was leaning over a woman’s exposed back with a tattoo gun gripped in large gloved hands and filling in the red shading of a rose. Half glasses perched on his nose.
Sharp introduced himself, prompting the woman on the table to turn her head and study him with open curiosity. “Reggie, do you mind stepping into the hall?”
“Sure.” The big man set aside the tattoo gun and stripped off his latex gloves. He patted the woman on the arm. “Be right back, doll. Just chill.”
The woman nodded. “Sure, Reggie, but remember, I got to be out of here in an hour. I’ve got a new business presentation this afternoon.”
“I got you covered.” In the hallway, Reggie closed the door. “So what do you need?”
Sharp pulled out Terrance’s and Jimmy’s pictures. “I’m trying to piece together the last days of this kid’s life. He was last seen with his father, who was here a month ago getting ink. I think the kid’s old man used his son’s identity to get a credit card.”
Reggie studied the pictures and nodded. “I remember the guy. He was covered in ink, and judging by the quality, it was done in prison. Did a lion’s face on his back shoulder. Took me about six hours. After I did the work, I had him wait in the back room like I do for all my clients so I could make sure he wasn’t having a reaction to the ink. After that he left, and we haven’t seen him since.”
“What did the guy talk about for six hours?”
“Damn, man, I don’t know. Some folks lie on the table and don’t say much. Others talk like I’m their therapist. I tune them all out and focus on the work. I do remember he had a high tolerance for pain. The needle didn’t bother him at all.”
Shay snapped her fingers. “Didn’t he mention his kid? Said he’d wanted to take the boy out for ice cream when he saw him last month but when he did, he realized his kid was all grown up. Seeing the kid reminded the guy of how long he’d been in prison.”
Reggie nodded. “That’s right. Went on and on about how he and the kid were going to start fresh. He saw them as a team.” He shook his head. “That’s when I really tuned him out.”
“When the guy was in the back room, he was chatting with another customer while he was waiting,” Shay said. “When I looked in to check on them, they were in deep conversation. That guy paid cash. I haven’t seen him before.”
Sharp scrolled through the images on his phone until he reached the face of the newly identified Diane Richardson. “Mind if I ask one more question?”
Shay glanced back at the clock. “Sure, my next appointment won’t be here for another five or ten minutes.”
“Make it quick,” Reggie said. “Molly hates to be kept waiting.”
Sharp glanced at the victim’s face. “We came across this woman, and it’s clear she had quite a bit of specialty ink done to her face.”
Shay looked at the picture and enlarged it with a swipe of her fingers. “The detail is amazing. Some of the best work I’ve ever seen.” She handed the phone to Reggie.
Reggie adjusted his glasses, and the instant he saw the picture, his annoyance vanished. “Damn.”
“Any idea whose work this might be?” Sharp asked.
“I’m good, but Shay’s better,” Reggie said. “She’s the only one in the shop who could come close.”
“I worked in a beauty salon doing permanent makeup for a while.” As she traced the imprint of the victim’s right eye, her brow furrowed. “I’ve not seen this much facial detailing before.” She pulled dark-rimmed glasses from her pocket and slid them on before raising the image closer. “You’re right about the attention to detail. It’s hard to get this kind of facial coverage and still make it look natural.”
“Natural?” Sharp challenged. “What’s natural about it?”
“I’m referring to the subtlety of the colors. Easy to cover the skin in a heavy patch of white, but it’s not so easy to stipple in other softer colors to create a more realistic—for lack of a better word—look. Her face looks like porcelain. That’s not easy to do. I’ve only done two facial tattoos. They were simple tribal markings. I’ve had no requests for this fine a detail. This guy is a true artisan.”
“How long would a job like that take?” Sharp asked.
“Days,” Shay said. “And she’d either have to have a high tolerance for pain or be taking sedatives, but you have to be careful with those. Some drugs cause excess bleeding. It’s critical she not move at all while the work is being done.” She returned the phone to Sharp. “Why are you asking about
her? Did she know the kid?”
Sharp tucked the phone back in his pocket. “No. She was found dead in a park recently.”
“Who is she?” Shay asked. “Some kind of performance artist?”
“I’m not really sure.” He wasn’t ready to share case details at this point.
Reggie shrugged. “We make no judgments here. Art has different meanings to each individual. Look, if you have more questions, send Shay in to get me, but I’m on the clock and have to get this job done.”
Sharp nodded to Reggie. “Sure, thanks. You’ve been a big help.”
Sharp followed Shay to the front. “What about the other guy hanging out with Jimmy in the back room. Does he have a name?”
“I can look up the name in the appointment book,” Shay said.
She pulled up the day Jimmy Dillon had visited the salon. “There were three guys in here about then. But I think the one you’re looking for was named David. Like I said, he paid in cash. Most of our customers pay cash. Reggie charges 20 percent more for credit cards.”
“What kind of tattoo did David get?”
“I do remember that. It was a woman’s face.”
“Did he happen to mention who the woman was?”
“Said it was his girlfriend. People get their significant other inked on their skin all the time. Half the time they’re back a year later getting it covered or removed.”
“And the other two men?”
She pulled up their names and read them off to Sharp. One got his baby’s name inked on his arm, and the other client had SHE’S WITH STUPID stenciled on his left breast.
He noted the first client’s information. “You stared at the picture of the woman on my phone long and hard. Did you see any detail you didn’t want to mention in front of Reggie?”
She hesitated. “Like I said, the work is just incredibly detailed. I doubt there are more than a handful of artists in the region able to create such fine work.”
“You have any names?”
She met his gaze briefly but couldn’t hold it. “Not off the top of my head, but I can ask around.”
