Chapter 8 #2
“You and Agent Barry said you’ve seen this before.” Olivia directed her comment to Bel. “Was it like this? Scientific?”
“Yes.” Bel’s nightmares would never let her forget the six floating Blaubart wives and the subterranean lab reminiscent of a mad scientist. “It was very similar.”
“But Charles Blaubart was a doctor, not an embalmer,” Olivia said. “So we might be barking up the wrong tree here.”
“I think you are,” the funeral director said. “This is a family business, and we rarely hire outsiders. I inherited it from my grandfather, and most of the employees are my siblings and cousins. Trust me, none of them has the skill to do this… or the free time, or the cruelty.”
“Could any of your past employees be capable of this?” Bel asked.
“I don’t know.” The woman picked up a photo. “I don’t think so.”
“Can we still get a list of every employee who’s worked here for the past decade?” Bel asked.
“Of course, I’ll email you the details.” The director accepted both Bel and Olivia’s business cards. “But these days, people can learn most things on the internet.”
“We know,” Olivia said as the detectives stood to leave. “But all criminals, even the smart ones, slip up. We’re just covering all our bases until we find his mistake.”
“Well, I hope you find whoever did this quickly. I’ll walk you out unless you would like a tour of our facility first,” the director said. “I certainly don’t have anything to hide.”
“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” Bel accepted, and ten minutes later, they were back in her SUV with fewer leads than they had when she parked this car.
“Griffin just texted our group chat,” Olivia said as Bel pulled out of the parking lot. “Bajka does have a tattoo shop… kinda. It’s in a strip mall on the outskirts of town. We should check it out.”
“Can you put the address in the GPS?” Bel asked, but as if she’d read her mind, Olivia was already entering the location. Friends or not, the women’s instincts hadn’t forgotten their connection.
“Thing-A-Ma Bob’s,” Olivia read the sign when they finally parked before the hole-in-the-wall shop. “I guess that’s funny.”
“Don’t tattoo shops usually go for something more badass?” Bel said. “Like Devil’s Ink?”
“Or Cerberus’ Tattoos?”
“That’s a perfect name,” Bel laughed. “If I found a shop named that, I’d be legally required to get something.”
“Tramp stamp paw prints?” Olivia held the door open with a wink, and Bel wanted to grab her hand and force her to pinky swear to remain this friendly. She missed this. The teasing. The trust. Working every day with someone you loved enough to sacrifice it all for.
“No, not a tramp stamp,” Bel stuck out her chest. “My boobs.”
“Even better.”
“Hey, can I help you?” A kid with an eel tattoo hugging the edge of his face popped up from behind the reception desk.
“I’m Detective Isobel Emerson, and this is my partner, Olivia Gold.” Bel flashed her badge. “Do you own Thing-A-Ma Bob’s?”
“Yup, this is my shop. I’m Bob… if that wasn’t obvious,” the kid said. “I take it you’re not here to get inked.”
“No, we have questions about these tattoos.” Bel placed the photos of the mermaid scales on the counter. “Have you ever seen these?”
“Oh wow!” Bob’s demeanor changed, and he seized the photo, yanking it to his face. “That’s hot.”
Olivia cleared her throat.
“Not the girl,” Bob clarified. “The work. That’s some skill there.”
“Is that something you could do?” Bel asked?
“Me?” Bob almost choked on his haste. “I do blackwork, not color… and no, definitely not.” He put the photograph down and slid a binder to the detectives. “My portfolio.”
Bel opened it, and within two pages, she understood what the artist meant. Even his best pieces couldn’t hold a candle to the intricate scales. “Do any other artists work here?”
“Nope, just me. I do okay.” He shrugged. “I know what I offer. I ain’t gonna win no reality shows, but I get a lot of college students on a budget in here. You’ll be amazed at how much I can make running a flash sale.”
“Flash sale?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah, like this.” Bob flipped through the binder until he found a page filled with small and overly cute Halloween images.
“Halloween is the most lucrative time for flash sales, but I run different themes throughout the year. Basically, I post these pre-drawn designs for people to choose from. No alterations. No color. No size changes. They get exactly what I draw, and they aren’t exclusive.
Normally, I only tattoo a design once, but for flash sales, anyone can get anything they like, no matter who’s already picked that design.
It’s why I can charge only $60 for a piece.
They’re quick. They’re fun. They’re easy, and I make a living.
That, though.” He smashed his finger against the mermaid scales. “That I could never do.”
“Gotcha.” Bel nodded, needing no further convincing of Bob’s skill. This man’s entire business was built on cheap mediocrity. He didn’t have the discipline required to sink flawless mermaids in the most dangerous part of the lake.
“I can do cute Halloween tattoos for both of you, though.” He flashed the women a salesman’s smile. “Come back, and I’ll give you the Bajka’s Finest discount.”
“Thanks,” Bel laughed. “We’ll keep that in mind.” She would not keep that in mind. “Do you know anyone in the area who could tattoo these scales?”
“Probably Neptune’s Ink,” he answered. “It’s the best shop in the area, and everyone who’s anyone goes there. If anyone knows about these tattoos, it would be a Neptune artist.”
“Hey, have you ever heard of Neptune’s Ink?” Bel grabbed Eamon’s office chair and rolled it away from his desk. He pinched his eyebrows at her as she forced him to abandon his work, but she smoothed their curves with her fingers before climbing into his lap.
“No, why?” He laughed at how she curled against him like a mischievous cat.
“It’s a tattoo shop,” she said. It had been too late to drive to Neptune’s Ink after driving out to Thing-A-Ma Bob’s, so, promising to start early the next morning, Bel and Olivia had completed paperwork before calling it a night.
“Apparently, it’s the place to go in this area.
You know so much about tattoos, I figured you might recognize the name.
Or maybe the artist you partner with knows them? ”
“I haven’t heard of them.” Eamon wrapped her in a deliciously suffocating hug, the tension bleeding from his muscles in a way that told her he needed her in his arms more than she needed this moment of intimacy.
It had become their custom when she worked late for Eamon to keep Cerberus at his house since he spent most of his days working from his massive home office, and while Bel worked ungodly long hours, it seemed her immortal was determined to work even more.
She’d found him glued to his laptop, but a hardworking man didn’t faze her.
Someone had to pay for Cerberus’ grass-fed beef.
He’d gotten used to the millionaire lifestyle, and she couldn’t afford the cuts of meat Eamon had hooked him on.
“Want me to call my artist?” he asked as his hand slid up her leg.
“Can you?”
“In a minute.” He tugged her closer, kissing her until she pushed him away to catch her breath. “Fine,” he grumbled playfully against her breathless mouth. “I’ll call him.”
“Thank you.” Bel tried to stand, but Eamon caught her waist and yanked her back into his lap.
“Nope.” He cemented her against his chest despite her resistance, the playful struggle more flirt than fight.
She’d spent so much time resisting his pull at the beginning of their relationship that it felt unnatural to surrender without at least the pretense of defiance, but it was a ballet they both thoroughly enjoyed.
“Hey, I have a question for you?” Eamon said when his contact answered his call, and Bel fell limp against his chest to listen. It was a quick conversation, and by the time he hung up, she already knew it hadn’t been helpful.
“He isn’t familiar with Neptune’s Ink.” Eamon kissed her hair. “Why did you want me to ask?”
“I want to know what I’m walking into,” she said. “How much danger will I be in when I walk through its doors? Because I went into a doctor’s office and ended up dead according to the news. So, I was hoping your friend could give me an idea of what to expect.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” He sobered, all signs of flirting vanishing from his gravel-rough voice.
“Olivia will be with me.”
He glared down at her.
“We’ll be armed.” Bel smoothed his eyebrows until they relaxed. “But I promise to hit the panic button if we need backup.”
Eamon ran a finger over her book charm necklace, the simple metal blessed by both a witch and stolen government tracking technology.
“Hey. I promise.” She cupped his jaw. “But I’m probably being overcautious. I mean, what good are their tattoo guns—”
“Machines,” he corrected.
“What good are their tattoo machines against my real gun and my very real aim?” She pointed imaginary finger guns at him, and in the spirit of the moment, Eamon threw his hands up in surrender.
“You’re right,” he teased, grabbing her fingers and yanking her against his chest. “What good is anything against these?”
“I have the cause of death,” Lina Thum said as Agent Barry finally joined her and the detectives in her office. “And thank you for sending me the extra help. We were able to make it through more than one autopsy because of it.”
“You’re very welcome.” Barry set the coffee tray on the desk, and the women gathered their orders before they settled in for the news.
“Well, this isn’t a surprise, but cause of death was drowning,” Lina said. “There were microscopic findings of foam in both women’s airways and signs of pulmonary edema, a condition caused by too much water in the lungs… and we also found water in their lungs.”
“Did he drown them in the lake before sealing them inside the mermaids?” Barry asked.