The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(40)

“So the kid didn’t get the tattoo?”

“The kid was never here. Just the older guy.” She studied the pictures of the two. “They look like father and son.”

“They are. Can I talk to Reggie?”

“Sure.” She raised a section of the counter and nodded for him to follow her into the back. They moved between burgundy curtains and along a long hallway with three doors on each side.

Shay knocked on the first. “Reggie, can we come in? Five-oh is here to ask a couple of questions.”

After a moment’s hesitation, a gruff voice fired back, “Sure, come on in.”

They found Reggie, a tall muscled man with ink covering his arms and chest. He was leaning over a woman’s exposed back with a tattoo gun gripped in large gloved hands and filling in the red shading of a rose. Half glasses perched on his nose.

Sharp introduced himself, prompting the woman on the table to turn her head and study him with open curiosity. “Reggie, do you mind stepping into the hall?”

“Sure.” The big man set aside the tattoo gun and stripped off his latex gloves. He patted the woman on the arm. “Be right back, doll. Just chill.”

The woman nodded. “Sure, Reggie, but remember, I got to be out of here in an hour. I’ve got a new business presentation this afternoon.”

“I got you covered.” In the hallway, Reggie closed the door. “So what do you need?”

Sharp pulled out Terrance’s and Jimmy’s pictures. “I’m trying to piece together the last days of this kid’s life. He was last seen with his father, who was here a month ago getting ink. I think the kid’s old man used his son’s identity to get a credit card.”

Reggie studied the pictures and nodded. “I remember the guy. He was covered in ink, and judging by the quality, it was done in prison. Did a lion’s face on his back shoulder. Took me about six hours. After I did the work, I had him wait in the back room like I do for all my clients so I could make sure he wasn’t having a reaction to the ink. After that he left, and we haven’t seen him since.”

“What did the guy talk about for six hours?”

“Damn, man, I don’t know. Some folks lie on the table and don’t say much. Others talk like I’m their therapist. I tune them all out and focus on the work. I do remember he had a high tolerance for pain. The needle didn’t bother him at all.”

Shay snapped her fingers. “Didn’t he mention his kid? Said he’d wanted to take the boy out for ice cream when he saw him last month but when he did, he realized his kid was all grown up. Seeing the kid reminded the guy of how long he’d been in prison.”

Reggie nodded. “That’s right. Went on and on about how he and the kid were going to start fresh. He saw them as a team.” He shook his head. “That’s when I really tuned him out.”

“When the guy was in the back room, he was chatting with another customer while he was waiting,” Shay said. “When I looked in to check on them, they were in deep conversation. That guy paid cash. I haven’t seen him before.”

Sharp scrolled through the images on his phone until he reached the face of the newly identified Diane Richardson. “Mind if I ask one more question?”

Shay glanced back at the clock. “Sure, my next appointment won’t be here for another five or ten minutes.”

“Make it quick,” Reggie said. “Molly hates to be kept waiting.”

Sharp glanced at the victim’s face. “We came across this woman, and it’s clear she had quite a bit of specialty ink done to her face.”

Shay looked at the picture and enlarged it with a swipe of her fingers. “The detail is amazing. Some of the best work I’ve ever seen.” She handed the phone to Reggie.

Reggie adjusted his glasses, and the instant he saw the picture, his annoyance vanished. “Damn.”

“Any idea whose work this might be?” Sharp asked.

“I’m good, but Shay’s better,” Reggie said. “She’s the only one in the shop who could come close.”

“I worked in a beauty salon doing permanent makeup for a while.” As she traced the imprint of the victim’s right eye, her brow furrowed. “I’ve not seen this much facial detailing before.” She pulled dark-rimmed glasses from her pocket and slid them on before raising the image closer. “You’re right about the attention to detail. It’s hard to get this kind of facial coverage and still make it look natural.”

“Natural?” Sharp challenged. “What’s natural about it?”

“I’m referring to the subtlety of the colors. Easy to cover the skin in a heavy patch of white, but it’s not so easy to stipple in other softer colors to create a more realistic—for lack of a better word—look. Her face looks like porcelain. That’s not easy to do. I’ve only done two facial tattoos. They were simple tribal markings. I’ve had no requests for this fine a detail. This guy is a true artisan.”

“How long would a job like that take?” Sharp asked.

“Days,” Shay said. “And she’d either have to have a high tolerance for pain or be taking sedatives, but you have to be careful with those. Some drugs cause excess bleeding. It’s critical she not move at all while the work is being done.” She returned the phone to Sharp. “Why are you asking about her? Did she know the kid?”