To Thine Own Self Be True Page 7

  He smiled. “Has every time I’ve tried it.”

  I took it from his outstretched hand, at the same time pulling Detective Shisler’s card from my pocket. She answered almost immediately.

  “Stella Crown here. You haven’t found Wolf, have you?”

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  “I know where Wolf and Mandy were going the night Mandy was killed.”

  “What? Where?”

  “They’ve been active in a political lobby called Artists for Freedom. They’re pushing against a bill that’s working its way through the Pennsylvania senate, restricting tattoo artists and body piercers.”

  “I think I’ve heard about that. Isn’t Senator Farley heading that up that bill?”

  “Yup. And he apparently has no love lost for these folks. No one’s quite sure why he’s so gung ho about coming down on these artists, but he’s going after them with everything he’s got.”

  “Interesting, but I can’t see him killing Mandy over body art.”

  “Perhaps if you could find out what she had on him, it might be clearer. She told her friends she’d discovered something big that would make him think seriously about continuing with the bill. She was going to tell the group that night at the meeting so they could formulate a plan.”

  “And you think Farley found out about this?”

  “Mandy told the Spurgeons Farley had a spy in the group. He could’ve easily known about the meeting.”

  She was silent for a moment. “You have someone I could talk to about this?”

  I sighed. “Not sure. I hate to say it, but these people aren’t real up on cops. Been raided and discriminated against too many times. But they’ve promised to call me or Rusty if they think of anything else.”

  “Rusty Oldham, the artist I talked with?”

  “That’s him.”

  “I guess it’ll have to do.” She paused. “I finally ran down Lance Thunderbolt, the tattoo artist who’d been trying to sue Wolf for plagiarism. He’s in New Jersey, visiting family. I’ve been able to verify that he’s been there since Saturday.”

  “I guess that’s good.”

  “Sure. One less suspect. Wish I could say the same for that other guy. Tank. I still haven’t found him. Any ideas?”

  “Nope. Never set eyes on the guy before that day. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “I’d appreciate it. I don’t know where else to look. I have calls in to other police districts, but with Christmas and all, it’s hard to find the right people.” She sighed. “So where are you now?”

  I glanced toward the house. “Going to talk to some more people in the community. In fact, here comes Rusty now.”

  He walked down the sidewalk toward us, and Nick lowered his window.

  “Gotta go,” I said to Shisler.

  “I guess from what you said before I shouldn’t tag along?”

  “Not if we want these folks to say anything worthwhile.”

  “You’ll keep me informed?”

  “I am right now.”

  “Yes, I know. Thank you. Talk to you soon.”

  I hung up and handed the phone back to Nick just as Rusty got to the window.

  “Where to now?” I asked.

  He leaned his elbows on the door, his eyes rimmed with red. He swiped at them with his thumb and forefinger, not even trying to hide that he’d been crying. “I was thinking Giovanni’s deli, but I can’t say I’m real hungry.”

  I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. Just about noon. “There something there other than hoagies that you want?”

  He nodded. “Gio’s good friends with lots in the tattoo community. Could know things I don’t.”

  “We don’t have to eat, right?”

  “Guess not. But maybe once we’re in the place I’ll find my appetite.”

  “Then why don’t we head there?”

  He slapped Nick’s open window. “Let’s go.”

  We followed him through the salty streets toward Hatfield, where Giovanni’s took up one corner of an intersection. We parked in the well-plowed lot and found a place in line in the noisy restaurant. Giovanni himself, his olive skin flushed from heat, was busy behind the counter, taking orders and sliding pizzas into the two-tiered oven. His well-muscled arms displayed several tattoo artists’ work, and I had a feeling Wolf and Rusty had each done their part. His right arm was criss-crossed with an unusual barbed-wire design—not just the kind that circles the biceps—and his left held a panorama of eyes. I imagined it would be rather spooky under the right circumstances.

  When we reached the front of the line and Giovanni saw Rusty, his eyes sparked with sadness. He obviously knew about Mandy. “Hey, my man.”

  “Gio,” Rusty said.

  “Can I get you something?” Gio asked.

  Rusty sighed, checking out the menu board above the owner’s head. “Just a plain turkey hoagie. No onions or nothing.”

  “Oil?”

  “Better not.”

  Gio nodded and turned to me. “You look familiar. At least that tat on your neck does.”

  “Stella Crown. And the skull’s some of Rusty’s work.”

  “Thought so.”

  “Can I get a pizza steak hoagie? Extra sauce? Sweet peppers?”

  He cocked his finger at me and looked at Nick. “You with them?”

  Nick smiled. “I am. Italian hoagie, please. Oil, vinegar, oregano.”

  “Fries for anybody? Chips? Drinks?”

  We declined the fried stuff, but agreed to the drinks, and Gio barked our orders to two men working at the food spread behind him. His brothers, probably. Or sons. Nephews.

  “Any chance we could get a little of your time?” Rusty asked Gio.

  He nodded shortly. “Rush will soon be over. You sit and eat, and I’ll be out.”

  We took our number and found an empty table toward the back of the room where we sat, Nick taking the chair beside me. I made sure our legs didn’t touch.

  It was a busy scene. Guys in working-class uniforms, women with bickering children, some of each gender in suits and business casuals. Working right up to Christmas.

  Just about everybody, no matter their dress, sent surreptitious glances toward Rusty and his colorful head. Probably his nose ring, too. I guessed I couldn’t blame them, but it made me feel like we were in the zoo, and I wanted to snap at them all to mind their own goddamn business.

  “Harrisonburg’s beginning to look just like this,” Nick said. “Barely space to eat lunch.”

  I grunted. “That’s what happens when every square inch of land gets developed.”

  He didn’t say anything, focusing on the tabletop. Rusty looked at me, eyebrows raised, but I shook my head. Gio caught my eye across the room and pointed at a loaded tray. I went up and got the food, stopping off at the drink machine to fill my cup with birch beer. I’d let the guys get their own drinks.

  Twenty minutes later we were piling our trash on the tray when Giovanni sat in the empty seat next to Rusty. The line up front had dwindled to just a few business people, and one of Gio’s relatives had taken over behind the counter.

  “You aren’t just here for lunch, I take it?” he said to us.

  Rusty jerked his head no. “Wondered if you could shed any light on Wolf and Mandy.”

  Giovanni slouched in his seat and ran a hand over a face shadowed with dark whiskers. “Wish I could.”

  “You don’t think Wolf had anything to do with Mandy?” I asked.

  He glared at me like I’d cursed in church. “No way. Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Chill,” Rusty said. “We feel the same. Just wanted to make sure you were with us.”

  The big Italian’s face relaxed again, and he pulled on his thick mustache. “Been wracking my brain, trying to imagine who would do it. Where Wolf could be.”

  “Think of anybody who had troubles with them?” I asked.

  Giovanni barked a lau
gh. “Lots of folks. But none who would…do what they did.”

  “Like who?”

  He shrugged and rested his elbows on the table. “Don’t know his name or his boys, but some gangbanger stopped by their place a week ago or so. Wanted Wolf to do him up a tattoo in a half hour. He was headed to jail the next day, and wanted to use up his remaining time scoring dope down in Philly.”

  “Wolf do him?” I asked.

  Rusty was shaking his head. “Couldn’t have in that amount of time. Wouldn’t have, anyway.”

  “Nope,” Gio said. “Mandy basically told the kid to go to hell. Wolf tried to calm her down, but she wasn’t having any of it. Told the guy where to go, and that’s the truth.”

  I almost smiled at the image it presented. “What happened?”

  He did smile. “Guys left. Even apologized. Guess they like strong women. But who knows? Maybe they thought about it later and decided it wasn’t cool. Be back in a minute.” He went up to the counter, grabbed a cup, and filled it with water. “Sorry.” He sat down again. “All dried up from working back there.”

  “Any other ideas?” I asked.

  “Sure. Could be somebody we don’t even know about. Like, a little while ago some guy, completely high on crack, burst into the shop, started screaming that the Warlocks had just broken him out of Norristown Hospital. Accused Wolf of stealing his money, said if Wolf would just give back the cash, he’d forget everything. Wolf and Mandy couldn’t remember ever seeing the guy before, but they were afraid what he might have under his clothes. You never know what these crackheads are concealing. They held him off long enough for Mandy to call the cops, who didn’t find weapons, but discovered a good stash of bills in the guy’s sock. Once he saw it he remembered putting it there. Had somehow fixated on Wolf and was sure he’d been robbed.”

  I shook my head. It was hard to imagine folks like that on the streets of Lansdale, but I guessed crazies could pop up anywhere.

  “What about Lance Thunderbolt?”

  Gio raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

  “Rusty told me about the problems he caused Wolf. The detective says he was out of town the night of…the night I went to get my tattoo, but what if he came back and his family’s covering for him?”

  Gio sneered. “That wuss? He wouldn’t know to go to sleep at night if somebody didn’t tell him first.”

  Rusty laughed. “That’s about right.”

  “So you think his alibi’s for real?” I looked from Gio to Rusty, watching their eyes.

  Gio shrugged. “More believable than him actually having the balls to confront someone in person. Lawyers, sure. Rumors, trash talking, gossip. That’s his style.”

  So maybe Thunderbolt really was in the clear.

  “What about Wolf and Mandy’s activities?” I asked. “Politics?”

  “Sure. You heard about Artists for Freedom?”

  Rusty nodded. “We were just at Jewel and Mick’s.”

  “Then you know all about that.”

  “Any idea why that senator’s got it in for tattoos?” I asked. “Trevor Farley?”

  He bunched his mouth, shaking his head. “No idea. His own family’s famous for their unadorned white skin. Always look like they’re ready for mass. Although there’s no telling what’s under their shirts, I guess. Could be his kids defied him and got some art nobody’s telling about. Or maybe he’s got a moneybags who’s offended by walking art and asked him—or forced him—to take a stand. Who knows?”

  “Anybody else?” I asked.

  He puffed out his cheeks. “Could be any number of people Mandy’s pissed off along the way, but nobody who comes right to mind. Nobody who’d hate her enough to kill her.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose. Giovanni was the first person to actually admit what had happened. Bluntness didn’t feel any better. Nick touched my leg under the table, a gesture most likely made to comfort me, but my knee jerked involuntarily and he pulled his hand back.

  “There is Gentleman John, of course,” Gio said.

  “Who?”

  “John Greene. A hack. Wolf and Mandy got him in trouble different times.”

  Ah. The asshole Mandy had mentioned.

  “Right,” I said. “What’s the deal with him?”

  “A slimy piece of work,” Gio said. “But I don’t know. If Mandy saw him at her door she certainly wouldn’t let him in. And if he got in anyway, she’d just kick the crap out of him.”

  Rusty snorted. “That’s about right.”

  “But it sounds like he might want payback?”

  Gio shrugged. “It’s not like Wolf and Mandy are the only ones who ever ratted him out. He had plenty of people wanting him out of business, including parents of kids he’d worked on. I can’t see him going after Wolf and Mandy but leaving the other folks alone.”

  I looked at Rusty, and he shook his head, shrugging. “It would seem strange if he’d single them out. We all hate him. And anyone like him.”

  “Hey,” I said. “What about a guy named Tank? You know him?”

  Rusty looked at me. “I do. What about him?”

  “I forgot to tell you. He came by Wolf Ink when I was getting my tattoo.”

  “And wanted Wolf to work on him?” Rusty’s face clouded.

  “Yeah.”

  “Figures,” Gio said. “I wonder…”

  I glanced back and forth between Rusty and Gio. “What? Who is he?”

  Rusty shifted in his seat, his lips tight. “I didn’t know he’d been there. If I’d’a known that—”

  “He’s a dude who harasses tattoo artists,” Gio said. “Gets work done, doesn’t pay, then expects them to run a tab. When they won’t do him anymore, he threatens them.”

  “Does more than threaten,” Rusty said. “When I refused him he came by, cut down two trees in my shop’s front yard. Only trees I had. Then he doused the branches with gas and set them on fire on my front step. Lucky the whole place didn’t burn down.”

  Gio nodded. “Lucky, too, he didn’t know where you lived.”

  “He’s a menace,” Nick said.

  Rusty looked at him. “He is.”

  We were quiet, wondering how far his anger had gone at Wolf Ink.

  “He ever do anything violent that you know of?” I asked. “To living things other than trees?”

  “Beat up my friend Cash’s dog a while ago,” Rusty said. “Left the poor mutt for dead. Cash spent a fortune at the vet’s.”

  I flashed on an image of Queenie, and my stomach tightened. “The dog okay?”

  Rusty shook his head. “Lost an eye and partial use of his hind legs.”

  Gio’s face went red. “Asshole who does that, wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to do people, too.”

  “And he’s huge,” I said. “He wouldn’t have had trouble subduing Wolf or Mandy. One swipe could’ve done the damage.”

  Mandy lying in the snow, her head bashed in.

  “What’s his real name?” I asked.

  Rusty’s face went blank. “Don’t know. Don’t know where he lives, either. When he cut down my trees I called the cops, but couldn’t tell them where to find him. That was a while ago, before he’d scammed too many folks. I haven’t seen him since, but I’m sure somebody knows him, especially if he’s still running this shit.” He glanced at Gio. “You think I’d’a heard.”

  Gio shook his head slowly. “Maybe he’s just now getting back into it. Maybe he was away for a while or something.”

  I wondered if Detective Shisler had gotten a name yet.

  “I’ll ask around,” Gio said, his face hard. “It comes out he had anything to do with this, I can’t promise the police will have anything left to bring in.”

  I nodded, knowing he was probably right. I’d better get the info to Shisler before Gio got too far with his inquiries.

  “Well,” Rusty said to Giovanni, “we might’ve found our answer, if Tank’s anywhere cl
ose by. But if you think of anybody else connected to Wolf and Mandy, can you give me a call?”

  Gio raised an eyebrow. “What you up to?”

  Rusty jerked his chin toward me. “Stella was the last to see them.”

  He pointed at my wrist, which I slanted toward Gio.

  “How’?” he said.

  I pulled my sleeve over my wrist. “Supposed to say Howie.”

  Understanding gradually lit his eyes, and he nodded. “I heard about you.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, from the glint in his eye.

  Mandy dying by the Dumpster while I slept.

  A group of high schoolers swung in the door, and the guy behind the counter shot Gio a desperate glance. Gio stood and pushed his chair under the table. “I’ll be in touch if I think of anything else.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” Rusty said.

  Gio placed a hand briefly on Rusty’s shoulder, and left. Rusty grimaced at the trash piled on our tray. “Well, I can’t say my sandwich is sitting too well. Let’s get out of here.”

  I grabbed our tray and dumped it on the way out.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Where to now?” I asked. “If you’re feeling up to it. Tank might be our answer, but we can’t be sure.”

  Rusty winced and pressed a hand on his stomach. “Give me a minute.”

  We stood and watched traffic, the cars and trucks clogging up the convoluted intersection beside the parking lot. You’d never know from the amount of vehicles that we’d had a blizzard just days before. The snow was now in the form of small mountains at the back of the parking lot, and shoved to the sides of the roads.

  Rusty grimaced again.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “If you’re not up to any more, we’ll just go home.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just… Talking in there made me realize there’s somebody we probably ought to see, but it’s never pleasant.”

  “Nothing about this situation is pleasant.”

  “That’s true. It’s just, this guy’s not the greatest to see ever, let alone right after lunch.”

  I glanced at Nick, who lifted a shoulder.

  “We’ll try it,” I said to Rusty. “You lead.”

  He eased himself into his Explorer while Nick and I turned to my truck. I tossed Nick the keys. “You want to drive while I call the detective?”