The Stonefly by Scott J Holliday

Author:Scott J Holliday [Holliday, Scott J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951249199
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2019-08-27T22:00:00+00:00

27

Jake pulled into the alley behind Hear No Evil Tattoos at 12:02 p.m. He passed behind Ray's and stopped in his parking spot. Sergeant Dan was sitting near the back door on an overturned milk crate with his back against the bricks. He smiled and waved. Resting on the ground between his feet was a brown paper bag with a receipt stapled to the folded top.

Jake got out of the truck. Sergeant Dan stood to greet him. They shook hands and Dan showed Jake the bag. "Got some Chinese. Hungry?"

"Sure."

They went inside.

Jake grabbed some forks from a drawer in the bakery kitchen. He handed one to Dan and received a box of lo mein in return. Jake led the sergeant into the front of the shop, offering Dan a seat in the tattoo chair while Jake sat on his work stool. He opened the takeout box and smelled the food inside. His cheeks tingled with salivation.

Dan set aside the fork Jake had given him and dug in with the disposable wooden chopsticks that'd come with the meal. They ate in silence for a moment. Initially Jake felt comfortable with the fact that Sergeant Dan wasn't speaking, but as the moment grew longer Jake grew more vexed. He twirled some noodles on his fork with a shaky hand, took a bite, swallowed it down, and said, "So, what's up?"

Sergeant Dan stabbed his sticks into his noodles and held the box at his knee. He indicated the food and said, "Good stuff, eh?"

"Szechuan Empire, right?"

Dan nodded.

"The best."

Dan nodded again. He took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses, and said, "I'm wondering if you can help me with a case."

"Me?"

"Yep."

"Okay, sure... but how?"

Dan set his noodles on the chair and pulled a plastic evidence bag out of his coat pocket. Inside the bag was a translucent latex glove.

Jake stopped in mid chew, his spine stiffened. It was precisely the kind of glove he used every time he tattooed.

"This here glove was found near a recent crime scene," Sergeant Dan said. "Not such a rare thing, really, as criminals don't like to leave prints, but usually they're not this technical about it."

"How do you mean?"

"Well," Dan said, "a jersey glove is just as good, right? Hell, even a mitten would do in most cases. In fact, those kinds of gloves would be better because they don't pick up prints, themselves."

Jake noted the fingerprint dust on the glove.

"You'd only want to use something like this if, I don't know, you were trying to get intimate about what you were doing."

"Makes sense," Jake said.

Dan gestured at the room around them, the art on the walls. "With what you do here, I'm assuming you use the same kind of gloves?"

Jake said nothing. Instead he opened the drawer on the toolbox next to his stool, showing Dan the dispensing box filled with precisely the same kind of glove. He pulled one out and held it up.

Dan took the glove, rubbed the latex between his thumb and forefinger. "So then, what more can you tell me?"

"What do you want to know?"

"It may seem obvious, but humor me.

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