Mikey
Mikey put the tattoo gun down. “Take a look at it after I clean you off.” He swabbed the woman’s ribcage. She sucked in a breath. “You all right?”
“Stings a little.”
“Sorry, nothing I can do about that, but it won’t last.”
Harry made his presence known as he entered the shop. He opened the door so abruptly the bells over the door banged against the glass. Mikey shook his head. The man looked cross, although he always did. Stress did that to a person. He seemed happier when Natalie was around.
Angie stood in front of the mirror examining her new mandala tattoo. She smiled. “Now I can tell my friends.”
“What’s that?” Mikey asked keeping an eye on Harry, not paying much attention to her.
“Getting tattooed by the guy who got away.” She held her shirt rolled up off the tattoo.
Harry raised one eyebrow at him and likely because his interpretation was that Mikey had dated her.
“In the flesh.”
Harry looked confused and mouthed, What?
“What was it like?” she asked. “Were you scared?”
Mikey smoothed back the hair on top of his head. Although being famous for nearly dying at the hands of a serial killer wasn’t what he wanted, the concept of getting tattooed by him drew in customers.
“It wasn’t fun,” he replied.
She seemed satisfied with the answer and glanced at Harry who, despite his dislike of tattoos, stared at her mid-section. Mikey snorted, and mouthed, Stop staring.
Harry straightened and pretended that one of the designs on the wall interested him.
Another artist clanked his gun down on his table. The client he worked on readjusted their position, squeaking on the chair. The buzzing began again shortly after.
Mikey bandaged Angie’s side. “Touchups are free.”
“Cool,” she said as he led her to the counter.
“We agreed on one-fifty.” In truth he should have charged two hundred for the amount of intricate detail work.
She handed him two bills. “I love my tattoo. Thanks, keep the change.”
Mikey smiled and winked.
Harry watched Angie leave.
“You never make social calls here, what’s up?” Mikey said to Harry.
Harry handed him a folded piece of paper. “Take a look at this. Tell me everything you know.”
Mikey chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to interrogate me?”
“Do you recognize it? It’s a bird.”
“I assume since you’re asking me, it’s a tattoo. You know, a lot of people tattoo birds, not just me.” Mikey opened the paper, keeping his eye on Harry. “This might be harassment.”
“Will you look at it and tell me if you recognize the work?”
“Call it art and you have my cooperation.”
Harry sipped from his paper coffee cup, muttering, “You’re lucky my daughter loves you.”
Mikey smiled and studied the photo. He pursed his lips. “It’s not my work. It looks like Steve’s from Radiant Images though.”
The door jangled and his next client entered. Mikey held up his finger, asking for a minute. The millennial took a seat in the waiting chairs by the front door.
“Steve at Radiant Images?” Harry repeated.
“You’re welcome.”
“Uh hm,” Harry grunted.
“You’re in a grand mood today. The person who wears that tat is dead, aren’t they?”
“What do you know of it?” he stepped closer and whispered.
Mikey pursed his lips. “Nothing. I’m sorry, Harry.”
“For what?”
“Not being more helpful. Man, I don’t know if I could do what you do day in and day out.”
“You get used to it.”
“Do you?”
Harry shrugged. “Need the picture back.”
Mikey handed him the paper and regarded the detective, his future father-in-law, for a moment. “Make sure you tell Steve I know you before you start asking questions.”
Harry left without saying another word. Mikey motioned for his next client to join him at his tattoo chair.
* * *
Harry
Harry parked his borrowed car outside Radiant Images Tattoo Parlor. The single building converted from a house sat on one of the main drags in town, nestled between a few residential homes. The owners still hoped they would receive a large buyout from a developer. If one should happen to come their way. Doubtful, though.
A commercial glass door had replaced the original one, and like Mikey’s Ink Addiction, a neon sign hung in the window. Two people who didn’t look old enough to be in a tattoo place let alone get one, stood at a counter looking at books of tattoo designs. A woman dressed in tight black jeans and a leather vest lounged on an adjustable tattoo bed with her eyes closed. Tattoos covered one of her arms and the upper half of the other. Her lips were bright red.
“Let me know when you ladies have decided on a design.” She opened one eye and looked at Harry. “What can I do for you, detective?”
“How do you know I’m a cop?”
“Got that look about you.”
He glanced down his body then rocked back on his heels. “Yeah. Is Steve around?”
“Get out.” She picked her head up and glared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t help you.”
“You don’t have to, just tell me where I can find Ste—”
“I’m Steve.”
“Oh.” That SOB. “I know Mikey Hardin.”
She sighed heavily and stood. Her thick soled, chunky heeled boots clomped on the wooden floor. “Let’s speak in the back.”
He followed her through a doorway with a curtain of beads hung from the top jamb.
“Need the room for a minute,” she told a blond man with scruff on his face. “You got creds?”
Harry flashed her his badge. He waited for the man to leave before speaking. He pulled out the picture with the tattoo. “Mikey said you might be able to help me out with this.”
She took the photo and rubbed a cheek with her fingertips. Her eyebrows raised. “It’s my work. I remember this one well. Took a picture for my website gallery.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Yeah, sweet girl. Mia something. Hold on gimme a minute…Dillon, no…Dixon. That’s it. Mia Dixon.”
“How long ago was this done?”
“I wanna say three months, though it could be more or less. I usually remember the ones that bring me their own designs. In fact, I might still have the original.”
Steve bent over a two-drawer gray filing cabinet. “I keep original drawings if the client allows me to reuse the design and she consented. She’s an artist. Thought it was cool, but I never could bear using it again…”
Harry listened to her drone on. To his surprise, he wasn’t interested in her ass. Other women just didn’t do it for him anymore. He missed Natalie and couldn’t wait to relax in front of the TV with her later.
Steve straightened and handed a drawing to him.
“Thanks. Can I have this?”
“Keep it. She won’t be coming back for it, will she?”
Harry shook his head. “Ah, sorry I assumed you were—that Steve was a man’s name.”
“Forget it, Mikey’s future father-in-law.”
Harry chuckled. “He had you mess with me.”
“Only a bit.”