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Bing’s expression turned somber. “I heard about Earl.”
“Your sister and Chief Harper believe he killed himself.”
“Suicide? Earl? Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but I will tell you this: Earl Palmer would have been the last person in the world I thought would take his own life.”
“Then you know what the alternative is.”
Bing nodded and looked deeply troubled. He drew closer. “This town is small and isolated. But every place, no matter how big or small, has secrets, Agent Devine. Secrets that some folks would rather keep hidden.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“I wish I could, but that’s all I know. Just a weird feeling.”
“Do you think Jenny was killed because she might have known specifics?”
“I don’t gamble, Agent Devine. Never saw the logic in it. But if I were a betting man I would lay down money that that was why she was killed. I mean, to my knowledge, she never came up here at this time of year before. There had to be a reason.”
“I appreciate your frankness. So you’re going to hang on here for the full ride?”
“I think so.”
“Your sister may cut out early.”
“She should. But I’ve told her that it won’t matter as far as the money goes.”
“What do you mean?” said Devine, startled.
“If she leaves the business and loses out, when I inherit, I’m giving her half. I mean, it’s plenty of money for us both, even if I eventually marry and have a family, which looks less and less likely every day. But you never know.”
“You told her that? I mean, about the inheritance?”
“Oh yes. In fact, I had it put in writing, just so there could be no misunderstanding in case I did get married and something happened to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a couple of fires to put out.”
He rushed off, leaving Devine wondering what the hell was going on in this town.
Again.
Later, Devine pulled in front of Ink Well, Dak Silkwell’s tat parlor. It was not as big or elaborate as he had thought it would be, based on what he had heard about the man’s ambitions and achievements.
But when he looked at the samples of tattoos exhibited on the front plate glass, he came away impressed with Dak’s creative ability. He tried to walk in but the door was locked. He rang the buzzer next to the door and a woman’s voice said, “Yes?”
“Travis Devine to see Dak Silkwell.”
“Just a minute.”
Twenty seconds later the door buzzed open and Devine walked in.
Dak met him and shook his hand.
Devine looked around and saw four people in specially designed chairs. Two tattoo artists were seeing to them.
“You came to get a tat, right?” said Dak with a smile. “Just couldn’t stay away, could you?” Despite the cold outside he had on a yellow tank top and lightweight cargo pants.
“Not right now, maybe later. You have time to talk?”
“Got a shop full of customers and a long list of others coming in today.”
“Looks like the ones here now are being attended to.”
