Chasing Shadows (First Wives #3)(59)

“I know. How long are you in the city?”

Until I find him. “I don’t know. I have some work here,” she lied.

“If you remember more while you’re here, give me a call. I’ll come to the city, and we’ll sit down with a police artist and get his face in every station. But don’t put your life on hold. We can do this remotely.”

Out of sight, out of mind.

She wasn’t going anywhere.



Avery jumped on the subway and made her way downtown to where the majority of tattoo shops were in Manhattan. After a night of research, she’d learned a few things about the industry and its history.

Sometime in the 1960s, tattooing a person had been banned. The prohibition had lasted over thirty years and was legalized in the late nineties. Like any prohibition, the law wasn’t followed, but the places that offered tattoos weren’t advertised. Which meant that there weren’t as many tattoo parlors in the city as she thought. Of course, there was no guarantee Spider had gotten his artwork done in Manhattan. Still, it was a start. Avery felt better looking for this guy than letting him haunt her dreams any longer.

She walked into the first tattoo parlor just before noon. The walls were filled with examples of what could be permanently placed on your body for a price.

“Good morning,” the clerk greeted her.

Avery approached the desk with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Looking to get some work done?”

“No, uhm . . . I’m looking for some information.”

The guy’s smile dimmed.

Avery pulled her sketches out of her folder. “I’m looking for someone who has this on his arm.”

The heavyset man rubbed his beard and glanced at her. “You a cop?”

“No.” She was taken aback. “I’m . . .” I have a vendetta against this asshole probably wouldn’t get her anywhere if, in fact, he was a paying customer at this establishment. “I’m interested in the artist who did this.”

The man took a breath and pushed her picture back over the counter. “Yeah, right. Never seen it before.”

Even if he had, he wouldn’t tell her.

“Okay, thanks for your help.” Asshole.

The next parlor, she took a different approach.

This time a woman was behind the desk, said her name was Zelda. Which fit. Zelda was full of ink from her neck to her fingertips and wearing a spaghetti strap shirt to show it all off.

“I need a little information about your services.”

“Thinking of getting some work done?” Was this a standard question?

“Not for me. My boyfriend.” Avery presented the pictures. “He likes spiders and was talking about adding to his arms.”

“We can definitely do it.”

“Do you have an artist here that has done work like this before?”

“Yeah, we all have.”

“With this much detail?”

Zelda smiled. “We can show you examples of our work to assure you it can be done.” She twisted the image around, looked at the back. “Who sketched this for you?”

Avery smiled. “A friend. How long would it take to do something like this?”

“A couple sessions, about four hours each, minimum.”

“So a long time.”

“Not really.”

Avery leaned forward as if contemplating a true decision about giving a tattoo as a gift. “How much would this run?”

Zelda told her.

“Oh. I didn’t realize it cost that much.”

Zelda wasn’t amused. “You get what you pay for. Any guy who has that on his arm isn’t paying a set price but by the hour. By all means, check out more than one parlor. Be careful of anyone who says it will cost less or you’ll end up with him.” Zelda pointed to a cartoon character in the shape of a spider.

“We wouldn’t want that. Have you ever seen a tattoo like this on anyone? I wouldn’t want to suggest something that everyone else has.”

Zelda shrugged. “I haven’t. Not on a forearm.”

Avery felt she was on a roll. “Is there anyone in the city that specializes in spiders?”

“Are you asking for the name of my competition?”

Avery took the picture back and put it in her folder. “I guess that wouldn’t be a smart business practice. I don’t want to make a mistake in the establishment I pick. Things are going really well with my guy, ya know? I would have to pull extra shifts for this kind of money.”

Zelda sighed. “Listen, there is a guy in the Meatpacking District. But he is always six months out in his appointments, and his prices reflect that. He specializes in things like spiders and anything that crawls. But I’m telling you. We can do this.” Zelda pulled her card out and wrote a name on the back. “If you want this for a fair price, you’ll be back.”

Avery tapped the card against her palm. “Thank you. You’ve been so helpful.”

An hour later she was in the Meatpacking District, in front of yet another walking piece of art, asking questions.

“Yeah, Van can do that.”

“Can I talk to him? It’s a big decision . . .” Yadda, yadda. My boyfriend. Avery repeated all the lies she’d used to get her there.