Chapter 22

“Where should I hide?” Carlita stood just inside the door of Steve Winter’s tattoo shop and looked around. A cashier’s counter and compact waiting area, complete with end tables and ink magazines, were off to the right.

To the left was a trio of massage tables, padded chairs and work carts. A straight shot and in the back was a hallway, a restroom, and a storage closet. Beyond that was a set of stairs leading to a second-story apartment.

“I was thinking in the dressing room.” Steve motioned Carlita to follow him around the tables, to a narrow hall she’d never noticed before. On the other side were square cubicles sporting red curtains instead of doors.

“You have dressing rooms?”

“Some of my client’s requested artwork is for more…remote body parts, which means gowns are required so I can access the skin.”

Carlita wrinkled her nose. “I was gonna ask but on second thought, I’ll leave it to my imagination.”

“A wise decision.” Steve patted the bench seat. “I’ll put Culpepper as close as possible so you can listen in.”

“Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.”

“And all you want me to do is find out what this woman knows about Rudy McCoy’s death.”

“Correct. We’re missing something. Maybe ask her who her other tenants were. Someone else was lurking around the apartment building the day he was murdered. She may have a repressed memory that still needs to surface.”

“Kind of like her remembering she’d seen Cool Bones.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what I’m hoping. Cool Bones mentioned the name Cray and even wrote it down in his bookie journal. You could throw it out there and see if you get a bite.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “I’ve given it some thought and already know how I’ll bring the subject up. I’ll mention Paisley and you stopping by and go from there.”

“Sounds like you don’t need my help.” Carlita slid the curtain aside. “How long will it take to add her new layer of ink?”

Steve did a rough calculation. “Should be under an hour.”

“The reason I’m asking is I scheduled an appointment to visit Cool Bones at eleven thirty.”

“No problem. You’ll be out in plenty of time.”

“Great.” Carlita pulled the curtain shut and eased onto the bench.

At exactly ten on the dot, she heard Steve’s voice and another higher pitched voice. Carlita slid off the seat and peeked out, watching Steve escort Eunice Culpepper to a massage table. “…didn’t want to be late. I had an unexpected errand to run.”

“You’re right on time.”

She set her purse on the chair before climbing onto the table. “How many more sessions will I need before we finish my new tat?”

“I figure one more after this. We’re almost done.”

“Bummer. I’ve been enjoying our conversations.”

“You have plenty of open spots left to cover,” Steve joked. “Lean back, place your arm on the table, and we’ll get started.”

“I’m thinking about it…another tattoo, I mean.” Culpepper let out a faint groan, resting flat, her arm extended.

Through the gap in the curtain, Carlita watched Steve wheel his cart closer. He rummaged around in the drawers, removing tools and placing them on top.

“Paisley mentioned you might be interested in selling your apartment building. Our friend Carlita Taylor is thinking about buying it.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve lived there for so long now. I have no idea where I would go.”

Rattling ensued, followed by the hum of equipment.

“What area of town are you in?”

Carlita averted her gaze when Steve pressed the tattoo gun against the woman’s skin.

“Over on Gleason Street. Do you know where that is?”

“Gleason Street.” Steve repeated the name. “Why does it sound familiar?”

“Because it was in the news.” Culpepper had inadvertently given him the perfect opening to question her about Rudy McCoy’s death.

“You’re right. Something about the murder of a minor league baseball player.”

“My tenant,” she said.

“No kidding. You were the person who saw what happened?”

“I saw the killer and Rudy argue in the backyard. Hours later, my tenant was dead. The cause of death was blunt force trauma.” Culpepper told him the story, similar to what Cool Bones had shared with Carlita and Mercedes, how she’d witnessed them arguing.

“Rudy took a swing at Charles Benson. I believe he also goes by the name Cool Bones. He grabbed the bat, knocked him to the ground and yelled at him.”

“Do you know what he said?”

“I sure do. He said, ‘I’m gonna finish you and you can bet on that.’”

“And then he killed him?”

“No. My guess is he came back later.” Culpepper suggested Cool Bones knew he was being watched. “He knew I was there. He left and later sneaked back over.”

“Did you speak with your tenant after you caught the two men arguing?” Steve asked.

“Yep. He said he was afraid of Cray. I took it to be Mr. Benson’s nickname.”

“You said he goes by Cool Bones.”

“You know those bookies. They use various aliases,” Culpepper said. “One day he’s Cool Bones. The next he’s Cray.”

“Who found Mr. McCoy’s body?”

“The police. A relative was trying to reach him. They requested a wellness check. The cops showed up on my doorstep, asking for access when no one answered his door.”

“So…you let them into your tenant’s apartment and that’s when they found him?”

“Correct.”

Steve leaned back in his chair. “We’ll take a quick break before we move onto the next section.”

Culpepper lowered her gaze, inspecting the new ink. “It looks great, even better than I envisioned. You do the best work. Topnotch. I recommend you to everyone I know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the referrals.” Steve switched inks and guns and began working again. “I was thinking about what you said, how Mr. Benson came back to finish what he started. Blunt force trauma sounds messy.”

“I’m sure, although I wasn’t allowed in the apartment after it happened. It took a couple of days before the investigators let me back in. It’s probably a good thing. A scene like that would have given me nightmares.”

“What about the other tenants in the building?”

“The police questioned all of them. One of my tenants got so freaked out they moved,” Culpepper said.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious. You didn’t hear yelling, screaming or any indication of an argument?” Steve asked.

“The investigators questioned me about it as well.”

“And?” he prompted.

“I started giving it some serious thought. You see…I didn’t remember much about what happened until recently. My memory has always been iffy, although it’s improved recently due to me figuring out I have a vitamin deficiency.”

“A vitamin deficiency?”

“B12, to be exact. B12 has helped improve my memory,” Culpepper said. “I remembered something else, which is why I was almost late. I stopped by the police department to let the investigators know.”

“Maybe I need some vitamin B12,” Steve said.

“It’s working miracles, at least for me.”

“At the risk of me not minding my own business, what new detail did you remember?”

“I heard voices, men’s voices. They were arguing. Rudy and another man.”

“Did you see who it was?”

“Nope, and I don’t recall the time either, although I know it was early evening.”

Bam.

A metal sound similar to an object hitting the floor echoed.

“I am so sorry,” Culpepper apologized. “I didn’t mean to jerk my leg.”

“Gotta be careful not to make sudden moves. You could get an extra ink design you didn’t bargain for,” Steve warned.

“I remember something else…just now, something about Rudy’s death.”

Carlita braced for what was coming next, hoping they would finally get their first big break in the case.