Driven to Ink

Chapter 32

“Smith and Wesson.45,”Jeff said,picking it up out of its packing material and studying it.

“Put it back,” I said, leaning far enough away so my back was plastered against the door behind me. “You don’t know if it’s loaded.”

“It’s not loaded.”

I gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes at me. “I know a little bit about guns, and it’s not loaded. Okay?”

That’s right. Jeff had done a stint in the Marines.

I’d always had guns in the house, since my dad and brother both were cops. But I’d always kept my distance, not wanting to get too close to one. They made me uncomfortable. All those accidental shootings you read about in the paper. I didn’t want to be a statistic.

“What would Ray Lucci want with a gun?” I said, more to myself than to Jeff.

But Jeff answered. “He was an ex-con,” he said, as if that explained everything, and he put the gun back in the box and folded over the top flaps.

I studied the logo. It was the one on the Web site. But this certainly wasn’t tattoo machine parts.

“You’ve ordered from Tattoo Inc.?” I asked.

Jeff nodded. “They’ve got great prices.”

“But this isn’t their logo?”

“Uh-uh.”

I reached over my shoulder and pulled my messenger bag into my lap. Rummaging around, my fingers finally landed on the Tattoo Inc. receipt. I took it out and waved it at Jeff. “Something’s going on,” I said.

Jeff plucked the receipt out of my hand and studied it before looking up at me, his eyes quizzical. “How did you get this?”

I’d forgotten that Sylvia came to me privately this morning. I had to think fast. “I can’t tell you.” So lame.

A smile tugged at his mouth. “You can’t tell me?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter how I got it. All that matters is, something’s up with this order. It says tattoo-machine parts, but it’s a gun. And they’re using Tattoo Inc.’s name. That’s fraud.”

I had no idea what I was babbling about. I couldn’t tell Jeff that Sylvia gave it to me. Because then he’d ask why and I’d be stuck. It wasn’t my place to tell him about Ray Lucci.

Why hadn’t Sylvia told him yet?

“Do you think this order has anything to do with Lucci’s murder?” I asked, grasping at straws, trying to make sure Jeff was distracted enough to keep from asking me questions. “Do you think he thought he was in danger and needed the gun?”

“If so, it came too late,” Jeff said, handing me back the receipt. “You didn’t seem surprised to see the package on his desk.”

“I wasn’t. I used the account number off this receipt and tracked it. I knew it came in yesterday.”

“So that’s why you showed up here?” Jeff grinned.

“He also ordered a clip cord,” I said, ignoring him. “He got that a couple weeks ago.”

“But if the tattoo-machine parts weren’t actually tattoo-machine parts, and they were really a gun, who’s to say the clip cord was really a clip cord?”

He had a point.

We sat for a few minutes pondering that until Jeff broke the silence by saying, “Do you have time to follow me to my shop?”

I glanced at my watch. “Guess so. What are you going to do?”

He gently picked up the box and leaned over, putting it on the floor behind the passenger seat. “I’ll meet you there,” he said, indicating I should get out. So I did.

The whole way to Murder Ink, I wondered how that box of tattoo-machine parts became a gun. I also wondered how long it would take Sylvia to tell Jeff about Ray Lucci.

Jeff parked in the alley behind the strip mall where his shop was, but I preferred the Bright Lights Motel lot across the way. He met me at the front door, opening it for me and leading me back to his office.

He’d put the box with the gun in it on his desk, next to another one about the same size. That one had a logo for Tattoo Inc. that did look different, but not so much so that it was noticeable at first glance.

He pointed to it. “See?”

I nodded, not that he paid attention. He sat behind the desk and moved his laptop around in front of him. I came around the desk so I could look over his shoulder.

Jeff clicked on a bookmark named Tattoo Inc. A Web site popped up, and it looked like the one I’d seen. “That’s it,” I said.

“Give me the receipt.”

I took it out of my bag and handed it to him. Jeff typed in the account number. We waited a couple of minutes, and finally, a box popped up saying it wasn’t a valid account number.

Jeff picked up the receipt again and studied it. After a second, he leaned back and grinned at me. “Did you Google Tattoo Inc. or type in this URL on this receipt?” He waved the receipt at me.

“I typed in the URL,” I said.

“That’s what’s wrong,” he said, stabbing his finger at the screen where the URL for the real Tattoo Inc. was.

The URL on the receipt was a “.com” URL. I hadn’t thought anything of it. But the real Tattoo Inc. was in England. With a “.co.uk” URL.

“But it looked like tattoo parts,” I started. “Go to the site.”

Jeff Coleman and I skimmed pages for the fake Tattoo Inc. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. We found Ray Lucci’s account again, and it was as I’d seen it earlier. But then I remembered something Jeff had said.

“I wonder what it was that he got instead of a clip cord,” I said.

“Another gun, maybe.”

So now we were back to Joel’s clip cord as possibly the murder weapon. I didn’t much like the idea of that.

Jeff was clicking all over the Tattoo Inc. site. “There’s no place here where you can place an order online,” he said, “but there’s a phone number.” He grabbed his cell and punched in the number.

“Yes, I understand I can place a special order,” he said, then paused as he listened to the response. “Yes, I have an account.” He rattled off Ray Lucci’s account number. “Yes, I’ll hold.”

I went around the desk and sat in an old metal chair in the corner, tapping my fingers on the armrest as I watched Jeff Coleman. After a few seconds, he said, “Yes, I did receive my order… Yes, it’s just as you said… Yes, I’m happy with it…” He was absently clicking around the Tattoo Inc. Web site as he spoke.

But then he sat up straight and said, “Yes, yes, I know where it is. Thank you.” And he flipped his phone shut.

Jeff’s eyes were wide as he looked up at me. “Kavanaugh, there’s more than murder going on. Check it out.”

I got up and came around the desk. The tattoo equipment I’d seen had been replaced by guns. All different shapes and sizes.

“How’d you find that?” I asked.

“I clicked on the logo, and it popped up.” He twisted around to look up at me. “Ray Lucci was buying illegal guns.”