Tattoo Killer (A Tattoo Crimes Novel Book 1)

by A. J. Norris

  Mikey shook his head. Marie was actually trying to haggle the price down.

  The undertaker cleared his throat. “Our prices are very reasonable, Ms. Dove.”

  “Yes. I know, you said. But—”

  “The prices are not negotiable.” He sounded well practiced in his response.

  “Oh nonsense, everything is negotiable, Mr. Rose.”

  “I’m afraid not in this case. Perhaps, I can interest you in this one over here?” He stepped to the gray coffin with the plastic sheathing. “This one is priced at two thousand five hundred.”

  Marie had the look of someone deep in thought. “Hmm…how much are these other two?”

  Mr. Rose smoothed his tie again. “The mahogany is nine thousand and the brass trimmed is five. Thousand.”

  “I’ll take the gray.”

  “Good choice. We have a few more things to discuss and you can be on your way,” Mr. Rose said.

  They were once again led back to the man’s office. Marie explained she wanted a pink rose arrangement laid over the coffin during the funeral. A small bouquet of Cynthia’s favorite flower, the peace lily, was chosen for Brayden to place inside the casket. Mikey’s intestines knotted up. At one point he reached for the brass trash can beside the desk but kept his lunch down.

  “Just to confirm, the funeral will start at one, directly following the viewing that begins at ten, this Friday morning,” Mr. Rose said.

  Mikey shook hands with him. Marie did not.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Mikey

  After dropping off Marie at the hotel, Mikey drove over to see Grace at work. He looked at himself in the visor mirror. His eyes were red-rimmed and baggy underneath.

  She frowned when he sat down in the chair across from her desk.

  “I look that bad, huh?”

  Grace didn’t smile. Something was wrong; he felt the tension between them.

  He tilted his head back to look at the drop ceiling for a moment. “I take it you spoke to your dad?”

  “No.” She sighed. “Yes. I—why did you lie to me?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you before, but, shit…what was I supposed to say? F-Y-I, I’m a murder suspect. I didn’t do anything but you have to trust me. Yeah, right, like you would’ve believed me.”

  “I might have. Now we’ll never know.” She got up from her desk and headed for the door.

  Mikey face-palmed.

  Breathe.

  He thought he heard a vacuum as all the air was sucked out of the room. His ass stayed glued to the chair. There was a high probability that his legs wouldn’t support his weight if he tried to stand. He’d only come here because he couldn’t wait until later to see her. Now this would be the last time. He smoothed his hair back with both hands. Cynthia was no doubt laughing at his pain wherever she was spending her afterlife.

  Grace’s hand was on the doorknob. “I want you to leave.” Her voice broke on the last word. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away.

  “Grace—”

  “No, don’t. Don’t tell me you’re sorry, don’t tell me you’re innocent, and don’t tell me you care, just don’t.”

  Mikey respected her wishes. He kept his head down to avoid her eyes as he approached the door. She made a sweeping motion with her hand and flattened herself against the door like he had the plague, her head turned to the side. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more; her ending things or her physical reaction.

  He passed through the door and out of her life without saying a word.

  Mikey punched his way out of Grace’s office building. The stifling, breezeless summer air hit his face, adding to his slow suffocation. He didn’t remember the ride home. Brayden had waited on the porch for him. Andrea stood behind him in the lee of the front screen door.

  “Dad, when is Grace coming home? She promised to help me with something.”

  Mikey knew Brayden wouldn’t accept anything but the truth on this. “I don’t think she’s coming back.”

  “What’d ya mean? Like never?” The hurt expression on Brayden face cut him to the core.

  “I’m so sorry, Dad screwed up.”

  Brayden burst into tears and ran down the sidewalk. Andrea stepped outside. “Better go after him,” she told Mikey, but he was already on his way.

  “Brayden…stop!” Man, his son could run fast. “Where are you going?” Panting, Mikey quickly became winded with the little amount of energy he had left. Brayden slowed then stopped six houses down from where Mikey was doubled over.

  Mikey swallowed and gasped. He waved his son back. Brayden looked around like he was deciding what the better option would be then came toward him.

  He took Brayden’s hand and knelt in front of him. A snot bubble inflated and deflated with every breath. Brayden wiped his nose on his arm.

  He searched his son’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to pretend to know how you feel.”

  His son nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to hug you now, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, sniffling.

  Mikey scooped Brayden up. They held onto to each other sobbing on the sidewalk. Several neighbors looked out their windows, including Davis. Mikey set him down and started back home.

  “Sorry, I ran,” Brayden said.

  “I understand.” He put his arm around Brayden.

  “What happened with Grace?” Brayden asked tentatively. “I really like her.”

  “I know. Me too.” He rubbed one of his temples.

  “Can’t you apologize or something?”

  “I wish it were that simple. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.”

  “So you didn’t say you were sorry then?”

  “I did, but it’s not enough.”

  Brayden glanced up at him. “What did you do?”

  Mikey took a deep breath. “I lied to her.”

  “That was dumb. Why? About what?”

  “It’s complicated. Adult stuff.”

  “Fine,” he sighed, “don’t tell me. When will I be old enough for complicated?”

  Never.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-NINE

  Grace

  The drive to her dad’s house made Grace feel like a child. She meant to pull into his driveway. Instead she found herself parked next Natalie’s Jeep across the street. Music blared out of the side kitchen door. The words rang inside her head, something about following your heart or some nonsense. Yeah, she’d tried that.

  Grace banged on the metal screen door and looked inside. Natalie was mopping the floor. Her mother’s best friend looked up and smiled. She waved her inside then leaned over and turned Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” down.

  “Hi,” Natalie said.

  “Hey. You think I could stay here a while? Just until my apartment is safe to return to.”

  “Of course. You are always welcome.”

  “Thanks.” Grace plopped down on the stool parked in front of the kitchen island, her body practically melting.

  “Uh oh, what happened?” Natalie put the mop in the bucket. “Come here.” She patted her shoulder.

  Grace edged off the stool and went to Natalie. Tears formed in her eyes and she heaved with a sob.

  “Oh, honey, tell me what happened.” Natalie embraced her.

  “Mikey lied to me. He’s a suspect in those murdered girls cases. Oh, Natalie!”

  The woman’s back stiffened. “What? Your father doesn’t think he’s guilty, does he?”

  “No. Well, he did, but after his ex-wife was murdered and he was with me the whole time or with his son, the police don’t think it’s him anymore.”

  Natalie broke the hug and Grace stepped backward.

  “So he lied about being a murder suspect? Do you blame him?” She searched Grace’s eyes.

  “That’s not the point. If he lied about this, what else is he hiding?”

  “Did you ask him?”

  �
��No. I told him to leave my office. And besides, how would I know if he was telling me the truth anyway?”

  “I dunno, but I know one thing, you were a lot happier than I’d seen you in a long time. I know it was because of Mikey.”

  “But God, even if he is completely innocent, there is so much drama in his life. How is there room for me and…” Mikey was a full-time father now. She wasn’t going to pretend she was ready for step-parenting or step-girlfriending now.

  Crap.

  Brayden. She’d promised to help him figure out a way to honor his mother other than a grave marker. Grace put her hands over her mouth.

  “What is it, Grace?”

  “I just remembered I promised to help Brayden with something.” She cursed under her breath.

  Natalie leaned a hip against the kitchen center island. “With what?”

  “He wanted to honor his mother in some special way. We talked about it, only the two of us.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet.” Natalie’s eyes welled with tears.

  “Shit. Now you’re making me cry all over again. I’m such an asshole. If I don’t help, I’m completely selfish for disappointing a child in the wake of his mother’s murder, aren’t I?” Grace leaned her arms on the counter in front of her and buried her face in the crook of her elbow.

  “A little bit. But I think he’ll understand.” Natalie put a hand on Grace’s forearm.

  “Will he?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Mikey

  The open road always cleared Mikey’s head. He’d left Brayden with Andrea for a few hours. The engine of his Harley roared while he revved the throttle. Trees whipped past him at an alarming speed.

  The last of the sun dipped below the horizon and Mikey turned his bike back toward the city. He’d intended on heading in the direction of his house. He’d meant to leave Grace alone. Instead he rode past his neighborhood and right into the parking lot of her apartment building.

  What am I doing here?

  Cody was still out there. She wouldn’t be staying at her place yet.

  He brought the motorcycle to a stop in the circular drive in front of the building and put his feet down on the pavement. A red carpet lined the wide path to the entrance, which sat under a red awning. He lifted his eyes to the brass accented revolving doors. The doorman’s brows rose in recognition and he approached Mikey.

  “Can I help you?”

  “No…unfortunately you can’t.”

  “Women,” the other man said with a nod and stepped backward. Mikey rolled away from the curb.

  Back on the street, he tried to think of Natalie’s last name. Grace had introduced them several times and the first time she’d said the woman’s full name.

  Mc something…McCormick? McGregor, that’s it.

  Mikey pulled into a gas station and took out his phone. He dialed information. Only one Natalie McGregor lived in the area.

  Natalie’s porch light shone brightly in an otherwise dark neighborhood. He cut the engine and coasted up the driveway. This wasn’t the smartest idea Mikey ever had. Grace had made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. Plus, he was guessing this was where Grace was hiding out.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered.

  Mikey started to back down the driveway when the garage door trundled up and Grace walked out. Their eyes met and they both froze. He wanted to call out her name. She looked soft in the glow from the garage.

  “Mikey,” Grace whispered. “What are you doing here?” She looked around then across the street.

  “I…I’m leaving—”

  “How did you find me?”

  “She’s listed.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll…I’ll go.” He stood to start the bike.

  “No, wait.”

  He paused and looked at her. Her lips were a thin line. She didn’t say anything more so he got his bike going and sped away as thunderously as possible. Harleys were great noisemakers, thank God. He wanted to make a statement.

  Brayden opened the door to the garage as Mikey switched the engine off. His son smiled—another reason to be thankful.

  “Hey, Dad,” Brayden said, yawning.

  Mikey dismounted his Harley. “Hi. Getting kind of late, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not tired and I’ve been waiting to play that game on your phone. You promised me I could play it when you got home.”

  “Where’s your phone?” Mikey asked, reaching in the pocket of his leather jacket.

  “I don’t have that game on mine.”

  Mikey sighed. “Here you go.” He handed his cell to Brayden; he couldn’t say ‘no’ to him this week.

  The younger Hardin’s face lit up. Mikey followed him into the house. Brayden went straight to his room.

  “I want that back in a half hour,” he called to his son.

  “Okay. It won’t take long.” His bedroom door swung shut.

  He plopped down on the couch.

  Andrea looked up from the book she was reading. “You all right?”

  “Yeah. I guess.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What am I going to do? My life is falling apart.”

  “Why is your life falling apart? I thought you’d be happy.” She changed her course when he raised his eyebrows. “I mean, not about Brayden losing his mother, that’s horrible, but about having more time with him. Not having to worry about losing him or sending him back to his mother.”

  Mikey kicked his boots off. “Yep…it’s fantastic. Who’s going to watch him while I’m working? During school, that’s not as big an issue, but right now…and Grace dumped my ass. Although I deserved it.”

  “I can help you out with Bray until you can make other arrangements. Believe me, I don’t mind. I wanted to cut back my hours at Cocoa anyway.” Andrea earmarked the page she was reading and tossed her book on the coffee table. He eyed the cover. Pictured on the front was a musclebound man in a kilt and a woman with a loose bodice and waves of dark hair. “What’s this about Grace?”

  “I lied to her.”

  Andrea settled back in the chair. “About?”

  “Brad didn’t tell you?”

  “He told me some things. Said you were arrested in connection with those murdered women.” She chuckled. “Gimme a break, as if you’d kill anyone.”

  “Cynthia told the police I might have something to do with it. Both murders.”

  “Are you moonlighting?”

  “Not me, but someone is.”

  Andrea laughed, although it wasn’t that funny.

  “To be honest, I’m starting to get a lot worried. Like, who in my life is next?”

  She leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  “I knew the victims. Oh, God. This is the worse fucking—God.”

  “Who was the guy who attacked Grace? You think he had anything to do with the murders?”

  “Shit. Yeah, it’s got to be him, but no one can find the guy.” He needed to make a phone call. “Brayden! I need to use my phone. Bring it here.” His son’s bedroom door creaked open and footsteps shuffled over the carpet.

  Brayden sidled up to the couch and handed Mikey his phone then slunk away.

  Mikey scrolled through the recent calls. “Bray…shit.” He brought up Hunter’s number. The call went directly to voice mail. He skipped any pretenses when he left a message. “Wanted to give you an update about the day, uh, Chelsea Rand was at my shop you asked about. Cody Pollard was also there that day. Thought there may be a connection or something. I dunno. Wanna help.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY-ONE

  Mikey

  On the morning of Cynthia’s funeral, Mikey overslept. Father and son stayed up way past the point of exhaustion. Brayden had decided he needed to get all his crying done beforehand. The alarm clock had been set, but he’d hit snooze half a dozen times. At 9:35 AM, Marie called as Mikey emerged from the shower.

  “Hello, Marie, sorry, I—”


  “Where are you? You were supposed to pick me up twenty minutes ago.”

  “I’m running late. I’ll be there.”

  She sighed. “You know I wanted to get to the funeral home early before all the people got there.”

  What other people?

  The obituary had only run in the previous day’s paper and he doubted there’d be a lot of attendees.

  “I apologize. Brayden had a bad night.”

  “Aw—just get here.” The woman, in fact, may have a soft spot for her grandchild only, though not her dead daughter. This was evident in the purchasing of the cheaper coffin. Marie Dove could certainly afford the more expensive casket.

  “I’ll be there as quickly as I—”

  Click.

  Mikey held the phone away from his ear and continued to talk at it. “It’s only a couple minutes from the hotel.” He tossed his iPhone onto his bed. The suit he put on was the only one he owned and was purchased for the last funeral he attended, three years ago.

  Brayden knocked on the door.

  “Hold on a minute. Did you put on the clothes I laid out for you?”

  “Uh huh. We have to go. Grandma’s probably already waiting for us.” The door creaked open and Brayden shuffled into the bedroom. He rubbed his puffy eyes.

  Mikey observed his son’s posture. The usual energy level Brayden displayed was absent. “Ready?”

  “I guess,” Brayden said, wrapping his arms around his father’s waist. Mikey squeezed him back.

  “Let’s go.”

  Get this over with.

  Mikey’s left knee bounced the entire ride over to Marie’s hotel. She was standing with her hands on her hips in the Embassy Suites lobby when they arrived. Although, she was shorter than him, she was still able to look down her nose at him by raising her chin. Her dyed hair and makeup were flawlessly done. For a woman in her sixties, Marie still had a youthful appearance from a distance. Up close…not so much.

  “About time. I can’t believe you’re making us late to my own daughter’s funeral,” Marie said loud enough for several other hotel guests to hear.