Inked Killer (A Tattoo Crimes Novel Book 2)

by A. J. Norris

  Keep a lid on this.

  The last thing he needed was Cam getting an idea the woman’s body was found. He placed a call to Cocoa and left a message for Brad Winston.

  Harry got into his Buick and drove out of the parking lot. His cell vibrated on his passenger seat where he’d tossed it. Exhausted from shivering outside the school for hours, he almost ignored the call. He groaned when he reached for it. “Hello?”

  “Yeah, ah, got a message you called, this is Brad.”

  Harry blew out a breath.

  “Detective, you still there?”

  “Yeah.” Harry hated these conversations. “I need to know the name of one of your waitresses from the night of Brayden’s party.”

  “You’ll have to narrow it down a little.”

  “Blonde. Five-six. Worked the birthday party.” Was chatted up by her possible killer. “Left the restaurant with one of the guests. Maybe someone from your staff saw something.”

  “Hang on a sec.”

  A message on hold came on while Harry waited for Brad. He made a turn onto his street. Smoke no longer rose from Natalie’s chimney, but as he approached her house, the living room table lamp shone through a crack in the drapes. The TV cast a bluish hue on everything. He pulled into her driveway and kept the engine running.

  “Harry, you still there?”

  “Yep. Watcha got?”

  “Her name’s Heidi Merlow. Father’s a judge. I’m sure you’ve heard of—”

  “Are you certain?” Christ, as if Harry didn’t have enough problems. Now he’d have Judge Merlow crawling all over his back demanding answers and a prompt arrest.

  Please, let there be DNA evidence.

  “Positive. Our hostess saw her leave with a guy. Does this have anything to do with her missing her shift tonight?”

  “I wish it didn’t.”

  “Oh, man,” Brad guessed the truth. Heidi was dead. “Hey, I can pull her emergency contact info…”

  “I have her father’s number. Give me some time before you let your staff know.”

  “Done.”

  Harry ended the call and then backed out of the driveway. He called Natalie on the way to the judge’s house. She understood and told him she’d leave the light on for him.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  Grace

  Grace checked Facebook, scrolling through the feed. She stopped and read some of her friends’ posts then watched a few cute animal videos. As much as she wanted to dislike them, she found them mildly entertaining. Okay, a lot entertaining. She loved cute baby animals.

  Settled on the couch, she waited for Mikey and Brayden. The garage door squealed its way open and closed. Her guys walked into the house thirty seconds later.

  She went to them and hugged them one at a time. Brayden held onto her longer than usual, his smaller frame trembling against hers. “You okay?” she asked.

  His voice faltered. “Y-Yeah. I…I’m not sure…”

  “It’s okay if you don’t know how you’re feeling.”

  He nodded.

  “Get your jammies on, kid. Then come back out here,” Mikey told him.

  Brayden slumped his shoulders and dragged his feet to his room.

  “Is he okay?” she asked Mikey.

  “Yeah. I think at first he’s like ‘cool, a dead body’, and now the reality has sunk in and it’s not cool like in video games.”

  “That had to be traumatic for him.”

  “It was for me, so I can imagine.” Mikey sighed deeply, rubbing his temples.

  “Now what?”

  Mikey shrugged. “Watch some funny TV and try and get the picture of that poor woman out of our heads.”

  “Maybe we should take him to therapy or something?”

  “He’s already in therapy, remember? His mom was murdered.”

  Grace smiled crookedly. “I know that. More.”

  “I’ll mention it to his therapist.”

  She swallowed hard. “I think I might join him next session. This is the second murder in two months. I’m considering becoming a hermit.”

  Mikey gathered her close to his chest. “Mind if we join you?”

  Brayden came alongside them and wrapped his arms around their waists, sobbing quietly. The sound carried far enough to set Grace’s tears in motion too. All three of them held each other until Brayden broke the group hug. He went to the couch, grabbed the remote, and sat.

  Mikey and Grace didn’t say a word when Brayden picked out Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day to watch for the millionth time.

  * * *

  Mikey

  The movie had ended and hour or so before, yet all three of them remained on the couch. Grace sat right next to Mikey, holding his hand. Brayden slept at the end of the sofa with a blanket wrapped around him like a burrito, per usual. Grace often joked, calling him “burrito boy.”

  Mikey’s cell rang. “Hey, Harry.”

  “How’s Brayden?”

  “Sleeping. But I think he’ll be all right.”

  Harry stayed silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.

  “Is there something you need or did you call to see how Bray—”

  “And you?”

  “Me what?”

  “You doing all right?”

  “Yeah, I guess. You’re not accusing me of murder yet. So I suppose I’m doing good.”

  Grace elbowed Mikey in the stomach. “Stop teasing my dad.”

  Mikey pulled the cell away from his mouth and whispered, “He deserves it.”

  “Feeling guilty about something?” Harry said.

  “I heard that,” said Grace, putting her face close to the phone. “You can knock it off too, Dad.”

  Mikey snorted. “You got in trou-ble. Anyway, I take it you need something?”

  “Cam’s address.”

  “Why, do you think he has anything to do with this do—ah. You identified the body. Don’t tell me it’s that waitress.”

  “Just got back from informing her father. Judge Merlow.”

  “Oh, jeez.” Mikey took a deep breath. “He lives over the vape shop next to Ink Addiction.”

  “You don’t seem surprised it was the waitress.”

  “Not really. I can put two and two together. Saw him checking her out at Bray’s party. Him and Needles.”

  Brayden worked his arms out of the blanket.

  “Listen, I gotta go, let me know if you need anything else.”

  Harry grumbled a goodbye and hung up first.

  “I only heard bits and pieces. What was that all about?” Grace asked.

  “Cam.”

  She let her mouth hang open. “He’s a murderer now?”

  Mikey shrugged.

  “I don’t think he’s capable of that. He’s so sweet.”

  “It is possible. I mean, he was right there when you got run off the road.”

  “Yeah, but he helped me.”

  Braydon sat up, yawning. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Good idea, kid.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Harry

  Judge Merlow’s wife Veronica had screamed at Harry for thirty minutes before her husband stepped in. He must have seen the look on Harry’s face and took mercy on him. Delivering that kind of news never got easier. After five minutes of stalling he finally told the Merlows their daughter had been murdered but they still needed to come and identify the body.

  Harry hadn’t recognized Heidi at the crime scene or at the party for Brayden. The only time he’d seen her was a photograph on the judge’s desk. He’d never met her in person. However, when he had arrived at the Merlow’s and the judge led him into the living room, he couldn’t deny the picture of Heidi sitting on the mantel.

  Natalie left the porch light on for him like she’d said. Every other lamp or fixture had been shut off. He stumbled around the living room searching for the table lamp next to the couch. His toe hit the leg of the chair. “Sonofa—” Every d
amn time.

  He switched on the light, sat in the chair, and slipped his boots off. His big toe throbbed.

  “Harry?” Natalie said in a small voice.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” She was dressed in a pink nightshirt, one he hadn’t seen before. He wondered if she wore panties underneath. “Come here, you.”

  Natalie came around the chair, straddled his legs, and sat down on his lap. Her hands went to his shoulders.

  “What’s come over you?” he asked.

  “Missed you and figured you’d want to forget.”

  Without another word, she fused their lips together. She pulled her head back. “This doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you for the other night.”

  “Uh huh,” Harry breathed through his mouth.

  “Sometimes I feel we can’t ever have a pleasant meal together.”

  They had plenty of nice meals, didn’t they? Okay, his drive home from the prison ruined her birthday a few weeks ago, and come to think of it, he’d been in the bathroom when the check came at Cocoa’s. Not only had the food she prepared gone to waste, she paid for their dinner out. Nice. “Sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  Harry wanted to tell her he’d make it up to her soon, except he wasn’t sure when with a murderer or murderers out there.

  Her tongue slipped past his lips. He kissed her in return. She went for the fly of his pants, undoing the belt buckle first. The metal jangled. Harry unzipped and freed himself.

  They both gasped as he penetrated her.

  “Oh, Nat…”

  “Oh, Harry…” she breathed half serious, half teasing.

  He squeezed her waist, tickling her sides.

  Natalie tossed her head back and giggled. When they were together like this it was if they were teenagers. He was captain of the football team again, and she was the tomboyish nerd with a feminine side. The one girl no one expected looked fantastic in a dress.

  Annie had been his high school sweetheart. Would he ever get over her death?

  He took Natalie’s face between his palms and gazed into her eyes. They were blue like his, only a brighter shade. His lids lowered to half-mast and her red, swollen lips parted. She worked his body, bringing him closer to orgasm. So close he forgot everything and only knew the sounds and sensations of his breaths sawing in and out of him. He cranked her head down and smashed his lips to hers, more roughly than normal. He may have growled a bit, or imagined he had. She matched his ferocity.

  Harry broke contact with her mouth and called out her name.

  They came at the same time and ended hugging each other tightly. She rested her cheek on his shoulder.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Harry loved her. And even though he had never said it back, she didn’t make him feel guilty for not. Like she knew what he feared, that Annie would no longer exist. He was aware of how irrational that sounded.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

  “I know, and I know you love me in your own way.”

  Ouch. He didn’t just love her in his own way. He flat out loved her in every way. So what was his problem? Ridiculously enough, he considered asking Brayden, an eleven year old, for advice.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  Harry

  Although it tasted bitter, that was what Harry liked. He emptied the pot into the paper coffee cup he’d been carrying with him all day since this morning. His day started out as usual, stopping at the gas station for coffee on the way to work.

  The sign above the coffee maker instructed the person who drank the last cup to brew another pot. Harry guessed that was him. He had every intention of making more, except he couldn’t find the filters. Of course, he didn’t bother looking further than the end of his nose. One quick sweep of the area and he was done. No filters. Bummer.

  The DNA results from Heidi would take up to six weeks. Mia’s had revealed nothing.

  Cam Blackwell sat down the hallway in Interrogation Room 3. Harry had peeked his head in the observation room before getting some coffee and found his suspect with his head down. The guy rested his cheek on the steel table, hands hooked behind his back. Unbelievable. Was he used to the position?

  Harry slammed a hand into the door, banging it into the cinderblock wall inside the interrogation room. He spilled some of his coffee onto the floor. Cam snapped upright, leaving a tiny pool of drool on the table. He blinked a few times.

  “Man, what time is it?” Cam asked, yawning.

  “Four,” Harry told him, yet had no idea why he even bothered. More than likely the asshole wouldn’t be leaving except to go spend more time in a jail cell.

  Harry set his coffee on the table, and focused on Cam’s face.

  The suspect stared at him for a long moment. “Are you planning on interrogating me, or did you want to stare at me some more first?”

  Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

  Cam flicked his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

  Harry slapped a folder and small recording device on the table and took a seat opposite Cam. “I’m recording this interview, all right?”

  Cam shrugged. “You asking my permission?”

  “State your full name, date of birth, and occupation.”

  “Cameron Blackwell, July 11, 1991, and you know what I do.”

  Harry took a deep breath. “State your occupation.”

  “Receptionist at Ink Addiction Tattoo Parlor. You know you can’t hold me more than twenty-four—”

  There was a knock at the door, and Harry answered it. Rudy motioned him out onto the hallway.

  “Judge Merlow’s on the phone.”

  “This why you’re interrupting me? Tell him I’ll call him later.”

  “He’s insisting.”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Harry went back inside the room. For Christ sakes. The judge had called him six times since he and Mrs. Merlow identified their daughter’s body.

  Harry swigged his coffee and made a face at the bitterness.

  Cam smirked. “Police stations always have terrible coffee.”

  “Spend a lot of time in them, do you?”

  “Not a lot. Some.”

  Harry kept his expression stony. He wasn’t sure if the guy was lying. Cam didn’t have much of a record and nothing in the last several years. From what he read, he had only been arrested for public intoxication and minor-in-possession as a teenager. Hardly one to frequent police stations. “Care to explain?”

  “You know, wrong place, wrong time—nothing that stuck.” Cam scratched his cheek on his left shoulder.

  “No. I don’t know.”

  “Is this relevant to why I’m here now?”

  “You tell me. Is it?”

  The guy didn’t answer. Harry opened the folder then drank a gulp of coffee again, this time suppressing a cringe. He laid a photo down in front of Cam, who leaned over, studying it. The bridge of his nose crinkled.

  “Who am I looking at?”

  “Mia Dixon,” Harry humored the man. “You’re new in town, when did you arrive?”

  “‘Bout two months ago, give or take a few days.”

  “That means you were in town at the time her body was found.”

  Cam glanced at the photo again. “Read about that in the paper. She was found in the woods, wasn’t she?”

  Harry emptied his cup into the back of his throat.

  “Man, she suffered,” Cam muttered under this breath, looking at the ceiling, although Harry heard him clearly.

  “You’re right about that.”

  “What?”

  “I said, you’re right about that, I believe she suffered. Did you lose a pair of snowshoes?”

  “No. Never owned any. Why?”

  The question seemed abrupt and ill-timed. Harry was getting ahead of himself. However, Cam hardly noticed, which struck Harry as odd. He shoved a picture of Heidi under his suspect’s nose.

  Cam flattened his lips into a thin line. “Damn,”
he breathed, and closed his eyes.

  “Tell me about Heidi Merlow. You were the last person to have seen her alive.”

  “Man…” The guy breathed deeply through his nose and shook his head. “I was afraid you’d tell me that.” He paused before continuing. “We…ah, she blew me in the back seat of my car.”

  “And then?”

  “You saw me come back into the restaurant. She left or…got out of my car.”

  “Expect me to believe she gave you a blow job and that’s it?” Even when Harry was in his early twenties and unmarried, he’d never been that lucky.

  “Didn’t have a condom on me, so just a hummer. She didn’t swallow though. What I mean is, I don’t think you’ll find my ejaculate on her, in her.”

  Ejaculate? Why had he used that term? Why not ‘cum’ or a less clinical word? Who the…who was this guy? “What did she do with it?” He only asked for the sake of DNA collection, although it sounded much worse out loud.

  Cam snorted. “What do you think she did with it?”

  “Outside your car or on the floor?”

  Harry’s suspect shook his head. “On the ground. Outside. She was a lady, thank you.”

  “Okay. What happened after she left your vehicle?”

  “I fixed my pants and went back to the party inside Cocoa.”

  “Did you see where she went afterward?”

  “I assumed she got into her car and went home. But I honestly hadn’t paid attention.”

  “Did you happen to see her after you left the party again?”

  “No.”

  “What time did you leave the restaurant?”

  “I helped Mikey clean up and we left at the same time. About 10:30. The parking lot was almost empty by that time.”

  “You’re using Mikey as an alibi?”

  Cam pursed his lips. “He and Grace saw me.”

  “Mind giving me a sample of your DNA?”

  “Why, was Heidi sexually assaulted?”

  “You’re rather precise with your terminology there?”