The Silver Lake Murder by Gregg Matthews (read novel full txt) 📗

“I understand, Blake.”

Watching as Kevin gets up and begins to move his feet and walk towards the barking dogs, he wraps up the visit.

“Kevin, can I borrow your Wi-Fi password?” Blake shouts over the barking dogs.

“Sure, no problem,” Kevin says, walking back, handing him a piece of paper.

Taking the piece of paper from Kevin, he reads it:

Username: K-9 Academy,

Password: WoofwoofK9.

“Thanks, Kevin,” Blake says, smiling.

“Yes, Blake. If you need any help with any kind of dog training, let me know.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

Blake walks back to Rivers Tattoo; he sees an older pickup truck in the parking lot close to the front of his shop. The truck is rusted out but maintains the color blue. In the bed of the truck, there are several signs of different shapes and colors sticking up and hanging out the back. He also sees a man hanging a sign over his storefront. A white sign with black letters spelling out Rivers Tattoo Shop. He realizes after talking to Eleanor

this is the way things work around here. He doesn’t say anything to the man hanging the sign.

Walking into the shop, he goes into the alley where he saw a folding chair next to the back of the building yesterday and grabs it. He sets the folding chair up and goes back into the alley to look through the rubbish in the dumpster, he pulls out a small folding table. The table and chair will be his starting point. He goes to his black backpack and pulls out his laptop, logs into the internet using the K-9 Academy username and password to begin looking for his first tattooing workstation.

The local listings will quickly get him the massage-table, barbers-chair, setup for tattooing. He has all the tools he needs in a carrying case traveler setup on wheels. He does need some supplies. Ink and all the cleaning chemicals for the body as well as a workstation. He logs into www.worlwidetattoosupply.com and puts in a big order. He has an account with this distributor and pays his bill at the end of every month.

Exchanging a couple of texts with the person online advertising a used massage-table and barber’s chair for sale, he quickly settles on the price. He punches the address into his smartphone maps-app.

Quickly getting into his car, he drives north on Route 38. He twists and turns his way in the roads, listening to the direction from the GPS, he arrives at his destination, and he pulls the car around the back of the old barbershop. He gets out of the car, walks around the front of the shop and into the front door.

There is an older gentleman reading the newspaper in the empty shop. He pulls the paper down and puts it on the chair next to him. He stands up and walks toward the front door. The gentleman is smartly dressed. He is wearing shiny black shoes, black dress pants, and a clean white barbers’ smock. He is in good physical condition; his hair is cut short, not one hair is out of place.

“Hey, are you Paul?”

“Yes, are you Blake?”

Blake and Paul walk to the back of the shop. Paul waves him towards a side room. The light is switched on. There are several old barbers’ chairs in various stages of repair, and a few of them are being re-upholstered. To the right of the chairs, there are a few massage tables, needing to be re-upholstered as well.

“They’re not in great shape, but the quality and brand-names are the best you will find. You do the work to re-upholster them, and you will have a great buy,” Paul says.

“Great.”

After some simple negotiation on the price, the deal for one each is made. Loading the barber’s chair in the trunk first, the massage table next. He grabs a rope,     using it to secure the trunk closed.

“Thanks, Paul. I may be back for more.”

“Great, you have your own barbershop?”

“Tattoo shop.”

“Where is your shop?”

“Silver Lake, Shady Lane.”

“Tough area, something happened there recently. I was reading about it in the paper.”

“Yes, have you heard anything about what happened?” Blake says.

“No, my customers talk about sports.”

“Right,” Blake says, ending the conversation.

Soon he is driving down Route 38 back to Shady Lane with an open trunk tied down, rope exposing the purchased used furniture. Stopping the car after reading the sign Big Joe’s Sub Shop, he settles on a large Italian with everything on it to go. He quickly gets back to the shop, consumes the submarine sandwich, and gets right to work.

Taking most of the day, he works until he has one workstation up and running. With one barber’s chair, one massage table, and his tattoo needles and ink on the folding table, Rivers Tattoo shop is officially open for business.

Looking around the inside of the shop, he still needs to paint the walls and clean the floors, but if he had to, he is able to take a customer and make some money. His first thought is to try to hire a local, to do the cleaning and painting. Someone who might help him understand what is going on in Silver Lake. He hangs the certificates he needs from the town up on the wall for people to see. He has his website up and running from before the hurricane, www.riverstattooshop.com, and is able to process paying customers with credit cards. He prefers customers who pay in cash. He emails his web developer, and she makes the necessary address changes from New Orleans to Boston on the website.

Surprisingly, a couple of local customers looking for ink are sitting on the step-in front of the shop. Opening the front door, he lets them know he is ready.

“Come on in, guys.”

“OK, we were not sure if you were open,” one of the young men says.

“Yes, I’m open,” Blake says, hanging the Open sign on the front door.

“Cool,” one of the young men says, looking at his friend.

Taking the time to discuss what each