To Thine Own Self Be True (7 page)

“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 close 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?”

He stared at me, a smile tickling his lips.

“What?” I said.

“You trust me to drive your truck?”

“Oh, shut up. And hand me your phone, will you?”

He smiled some more, and we climbed into the truck. We followed Rusty out of the parking lot and headed out Cowpath Road toward Souderton. Nick negotiated the busy street while I dialed the detective’s number.

“Shisler,” she said.

“Stella Crown. Got some information on Tank.”

“Great. I ran down some facts this morning, but I can always use more. What do you have?”

I told her Rusty’s story about the trees, and about his friend’s dog.

“Nasty character,” Shisler said.

“You know his real name?”

“I finally got it, but you’ll never believe it. Matthew Snyder.”

I gave a bark of laughter. “Sounds like a Mennonite.”

“Mennonite family, anyway. Got a rap sheet longer than my night stick. Spent some time visiting our lovely prison facilities from the late nineties up until last year.”

So it was no wonder the tattoo artists had forgotten about him. He hadn’t been around to scam or threaten.

“Have you talked to him about Wolf and Mandy?”

“Haven’t found him yet. We’re looking. Probably visiting his family for the holidays.”

“Now there’s a scary thought.”

“Thanks for the information. If you find him, I’ll be really grateful. You got anything else?”

“Nothing that helps much. Some gangbangers that visited Wolf and Mandy, and some crazy guy on drugs. No names or anything.”

“Folks that threatened them?”

“Sort of. They called the cops on the one guy, but I don’t know when it was or anything.”

Shisler sighed. “All right. Well, thanks for this.”

“Sure.”

“Where are you now?”

“Off to visit somebody. Rusty didn’t say who.”

“Keep me informed?”

“Like always.” I disconnected and placed the phone on the seat.

“I like Rusty,” Nick said.

I glanced at him. “Even with how he looks?”

He grinned. “Because of it. Who’s ever met anyone else like him? Besides, if you were blind you’d never know it, he’s such a nice guy.”

“You looking for a marketing job? These folks could use it.”

His smile grew.

“What?”

“You say ‘these folks,’ as if you’re not one of them.”

I thought about that. “Okay. Us folks. I just don’t have a globe on my head.”

Nick laughed. “I guess I’d have to say I’m glad about that.”

We passed through Souderton, within shouting distance of my place, and kept on toward the Ridge and Sellersville. Rusty soon pulled off the main road into a wooded section, and wound around some curving back roads until we ended up at a little cottage built like a log cabin. Smoke drifted out of the chimney, and the sun that made it through the bare trees sparkled on the new snow. I didn’t see any vehicles, or even tire tracks, but there was a closed garage door on an unattached building to the left. The house wasn’t new—some shingles were missing, and a shutter hung crooked by a window—but overall it looked tidy.

“Not what I expected, from how Rusty was talking,” I said.

Nick raised his eyebrows. “I guess it’s the guy himself he can’t stand.”

We stepped down from the truck, the smell of wood smoke sharp in the air, and met Rusty on the front porch, a covered platform with timber railings. The high strains of opera leaked out from inside the cabin, and a faded sign by the door made it clear where we were.

“Gentleman John’s Tattoos?” I said. “Is this the guy we were talking about with Gio? John Greene?”

Rusty nodded. “The one and only.”

“This place doesn’t look like a back alley,” Nick said, glancing around.

“It ain’t always the surroundings that make it what it is,” Rusty said. He pounded his fist on the door so hard I hoped he wouldn’t bust right through. When his banging received no answer, he curved his hands around his eyes and peered in the window.

“Not home?” I said.

“Or not admitting it.”

We were turning to leave when the lock snapped back and the door cracked open.

“Who is it?” a voice said.

Rusty looked back. “John?”

The door opened further, and along with the louder wave of music I got my first glimpse of the asshole Mandy had so named. I stopped short in surprise. Opposite of what I had expected from a hack—filth and lechery—Gentleman John looked like he fell off Masterpiece Theater and landed on the Ridge. Short, black hair combed off his forehead, a well-manicured mustache, and clothes that, while obviously not new, were clean and pressed. Diamond studs shone in his earlobes, but I saw no other evidence of body modification.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Come on, John,” Rusty said. “Let us in.”

The man smiled and waved his hand in a grand gesture of welcome. “Anything for you, my esteemed colleague.”

Rusty made a growling sound low in his throat, but preceded Nick and me into the house.

John shook Nick’s hand as he entered, and raised my hand to his lips, brushing it with a kiss. His eyes sparkled as he met my gaze. “Always a pleasure to have a beautiful woman in my home.”

“Give it a rest, John,” Rusty snapped.

I stiffened, surprised at Rusty’s tone. Arriving here had changed his personality from collie to Doberman, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

Nick stared at my hand, lying in Gentleman John’s, and I pulled away from John’s grasp.

John raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Should one not welcome new friends?”

Rusty glared at John, and John smiled. “Well, then, why don’t we have a seat and talk about why you’ve come to visit me.”

He led us into the front room, which consisted of worn Victorian-type furniture, gauzy curtains, and a free-standing marble chess set. The chess pieces were chipped, but the set itself was intact. John had us sit on a stiff, velvet-covered sofa, where we all perched on the edge.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asked. “I have some refreshment close at hand.” He made his way across the room to a bar area, where he pulled several wine glasses from a shelf.

“No,” Rusty said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Nick and I shook our heads.

“A pity,” John said. “I received this new port for Christmas.”

Port
. He really was from PBS.

“And can you turn down that racket?” Rusty asked.

John poured himself a serving of the drink before adjusting the stereo one decibel lower and settling himself in the matching chair, crossing his right knee over his left. He waited, smiling at Rusty across the coffee table between us, apparently daring him to complain again about the music. His left hand was draped loosely over his thigh, his right hand held his drink, and he sat back in his chair, emitting an air of relaxation and calm.

I tried not to let my confusion show. This was the back alley hack they all hated so much? Where was the dirt? Where were the germs? I glanced around, wondering if his shop was part of the house.

Gentleman John followed my glance. “You’re wondering where I do my work.” He half-rose from his seat. “My studio is down the hall, if you’d like to see it.”

“Later, John,” Rusty said. “We ain’t here to get lectured on how you abide by all the
laws
.”

The venom in Rusty’s voice startled me, and I snuck a peek at Nick, who was studying John with half-shut eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to pass for now,” I said. “But thanks.”

“I’m sure you know why we’re here,” Rusty said.

Gentleman John lifted a shoulder, his face a picture of innocence. “Advice on the craft? A design for the young lady?” He winked at me, and Nick sucked in a quick breath.

“No, thank you,” I said. “Rusty and Wolf take care of me.”

He gave a small smile. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Enough about her,” Rusty said. “I want to know what you hear about Wolf and Mandy.”

“
Her
?” John said, still looking at me. “How can we have enough of
her
when you haven’t even introduced us properly?”

Rusty looked about ready to explode, so I jumped in. “Stella Crown. Friend of Rusty’s. And of Wolf and Mandy. That’s why we’re here. To see if you know anything about what happened to them.”

“Now why would
I
know anything?” He gazed at Rusty, his eyes wide. “I’m as shocked and saddened to learn of their misfortune as anyone, but what I know is only from the newspapers.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Rusty said. “You hated them and you know it. You’re probably jumping for joy inside.”

Greene shifted on his seat and pulled a newspaper from below the coffee table, tossing it onto the top. “My information source,” he said. It was today’s issue of Lansdale’s
The Reporter
, with a front page photo of Wolf. The headline above him pleaded, “Has Anyone Seen This Man?”

“It’s not my problem Wolf finally decided to murder his wife and depart with his mistress,” Greene said.

What
? I looked at Rusty, but he ignored me.

John continued. “It’s not like Wolf and I were confidants or anything.”

Rusty frowned. “Which is exactly why we’re here.”

“What? You think I had something to do with this…this tragedy?” Greene laughed. “You tell me how I did it, I’ll be more than happy to take the credit if it will help. You know Mandy. Or knew her. She could’ve beat me into the ground in a heartbeat, as Wolf could’ve, as well.”

I gawked at him.

He laughed again. “Don’t look so shocked, Ms. Crown. I’m afraid I’m not a fighting man. Mandy was a strong woman, and she despised me. Of course she wasn’t on my Christmas card list, either. She caused me more grief than anyone in my whole life. She and Wolf. But no matter about that. You tell me how I’d get her—
both
of them—out of their shop and anywhere else, and I’ll turn myself in.

“As far as who
I
think could have done it?” He shrugged. “Like I said before, you should probably take a closer look at Wolf himself. He wouldn’t be the first man to free himself of…shall we say…the ball and chain? And you might want to ask that little vixen who was after him. Wolf might’ve done the proper protesting, but even he couldn’t hold out for long against
that
.”

“You’re talking shit,” Rusty said. “Wolf wouldn’t have left Mandy for anything.”

Gentleman John swirled the drink in his glass, studying it. “Just saying what I heard, that’s all. And where there’s smoke…”

“Bullshit,” Rusty said.

Gentleman John lifted a shoulder, half smiling.

Nick elbowed me in the side. I looked at him and followed his gaze, freezing at the look of rage on Rusty’s face.

I cleared my throat. “Any chance I could see your studio now?”

He peered at me. “You’re really interested?”

“Sure.” If it would get Rusty out of the house before he strangled the man.

John set his glass on an end table, and stood. “Then please, follow me.”

I got up, but turned back to Nick. “Why don’t you guys wait for me outside? I’ll only be a minute.”

Rusty didn’t seem to hear me, but Nick nodded.

“So what exactly did Wolf and Mandy do to you?” I asked John as we walked side-by-side down the hallway. The opera music followed us, piped through the speakers set in the ceiling.

“What
didn’t
they do? Called the cops, tried to force me out of work. Bankrupted me, lost me customers. Of course I still have some loyal folks.”

We walked through his kitchen to a closed door at the back, which seemed like an add-on to the rear of the house.

“It wouldn’t be that the law had anything to come down on you for, would it?” I asked. “Tattooing underage kids? Piercing them?”

Gentleman John smiled and opened the door. “You think I
want
to get in trouble?”

I stepped into John’s studio and once again tried to hide my surprise. At first glance it looked every bit as nice as Wolf Ink. Photo albums, flash on the walls, a dentist’s chair. One door was marked as a bathroom for either gender, while another led directly outside, probably used as a business entrance so people didn’t have to traipse through John’s house. It was a bit strange, seeing the tattoo paraphernalia and having opera cranked on the stereo.

A few photos held a place of pride above his counter, and I stepped toward them.

“Your kids?” I asked.

He walked to my side. “My daughters. Twins. Graduated from high school last year and live in Philly now. Wanted to get to the big city, you know.”

I glanced at his hand and didn’t see a ring, so I assumed there wasn’t a wife around.

“And the boy?” I asked.

“My nephew. More like a son, really. He’s still in high school.”

“Good-looking kid.”

He nodded and turned back to the rest of the room.

“So who’s the woman after Wolf?” I asked. “Anyone you know?”

He chuckled. “No. Just a rumor. But it does seem an unlikely rumor if it’s not true. Everyone knows Wolf was fiercely loyal to his wife.” A grin flashed across his features. “Could be he was too scared of her for infidelity. I would’ve been.”