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“I mean a virgin body. No tats.”
“Nope, no tats.” And it was going to stay that way.
“I could fix you up. A good-looking guy like you, all those muscles. You got a special lady?”
I kept myself from nodding. “Nope.”
“Shoot. She’d love her name on one of those triceps.”
The way Bob was eyeing me freaked me out a little. My guts started to churn. “I don’t think so. And stop staring at me.” I looked away from him.
“Cool down. I’m a ladies’ man all the way. But I look at everyone’s body. It’s a canvas to me, ya know?”
Whatever. I wanted to get back to the subject at hand. “I was going through one of the books from your old place, and I found a tattoo that I remember seeing a long time ago. How long did you own the shop in Snow Creek?”
“About five years.”
Shit. Then he might not know who the hell this guy was either.
“But I worked there from the time I was eighteen and an apprentice.”
Eureka.
“Cool. So how long were you there altogether?”
“Fifteen years, all told. Bought it about ten years in, sold it to Toby about fifteen years ago.”
Thirty years ago. Interesting. The timing was right. I pulled the photo safely ensconced in its plastic bag out of my pocket. “Do you recognize this work?”
He pulled the photo out of the envelope and his eyes lit up. “Recognize it? That’s my work. One of my finest designs, if I do say so myself.”
My heart raced. “Did anybody else in the shop do that particular design?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Most artists don’t use other artist’s designs, unless someone comes in wanting that particular tattoo and the originating artist isn’t available. Kind of a professional courtesy. But I left copies of my work with Toby at his request, in case someone came in looking for something I was known for. It was part of our deal.”
That explained why Toby had the photo. “Do you remember the guy in this photo?”
“That was a long time ago, man. Lots of people loved that design. I used it a lot.”
“Did they all have it done on their forearm like this?”
He shook his head. “Most of them had it on their shoulder or lower back. Some on the upper arm. I’m trying to recollect…”
The waitress came by and took an order for another drink for each of us. Bob ordered another plate of rings.
“There was one guy who wanted it on his forearm. That might’ve been the first time I did this particular design. But then I think there was one other guy who wanted it on the forearm because the picture showed it that way. Obviously. Then there might have been another, too.”
And maybe another. Was I wasting my time here? “Do you remember the names of any of the guys who had it done on the forearm?”
“Man, I wish I could help you. But it was a damn long time ago.”
“Have you come across this design anytime else in your career?”
“This exact design? Nope, can’t say that I have. I do keep it in my own portfolio, as well as the one I left with Toby. But the phoenix seems to have died out. They were real popular some twenty-thirty years ago. Got a new life a while back, with the Harry Potter craze. But since then, not much.”
I took out a Benji and slid it across the table to him. “Does this help you remember?”
He swallowed the drink of beer he’d taken and let out a raucous laugh. “I wish it did. But I’m an honest man, Steel.”
