or right? Very important to decide.”
Teddy touched her left shoulder.
“Ah, no, butterfly on left shoulder bad omen. We do right, okay? You no mind? We put pretty, small, black, lacy butterfly on right shoulder, okay?”
Teddy nodded. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse and then dipped the blouse off her shoulder.
Chen looked up from his needle suddenly.
The bell over his front door had just sounded.
Someone had entered the shop.
Chen may not have recognized the tall, blond man were it not for the fact that Teddy Carella was in the back of his shop, waiting to be tattooed.
For whereas the handsome blond had been an impressive figure, Chen had only seen him once, and that had been a long time ago. But now, with Teddy in the rear of the shop, with Chen keenly reminded of Teddy’s relationship to a husband who was a cop, he recognized the blond man the instant he stepped through the beaded curtains to confront him.
“Yes?” he said, and he saw the man’s face, and curiously, he automatically began thinking in Chinese. This is the man the detective seeks, he thought. The husband of the beauty who now waits to be tattooed. This is the man.
“Hello, there,” Donaldson said. “We’ve got some work for you.”
Chen’s eyes fled to the girl beside Donaldson. She was not pretty. Her hair was a mousy brown, and her eyes were a faded brown, and she wore glasses, and she peered through the glasses, she was not pretty at all. She also looked a little sick. There was a tight, drawn expression to her face, and her skin was pallid. She did not look well at all.
“What kind of work, please?” Chen asked.
“A tattoo,” Donaldson said, smiling.
Chen nodded. “A tattoo for the gentleman, yes, sir,” he said.
“No,” Donaldson corrected, “a tattoo for the lady,” and there was no longer the slightest doubt in Chen’s mind. This was the man. A girl was dead, perhaps because of this man. Chen eyed him narrowly. This man was dangerous.
“You will sit down, please?” he asked. “I be with you in one minute.”
“Hurry, won’t you?” Donaldson said. “We haven’t got much time.”
“I be with you two shakes,” Chen said, and he parted the curtains and moved quickly to the back of the shop. He walked directly to Teddy. She saw the anxiety on his face immediately. She gave him her complete attention at once. Something had happened, and Chen was very troubled.
In a whisper, he said, “Man here. One your husband wants. Do you understand?”
For a moment, she didn’t understand. Man here? One my husband…And then the meaning became clear, and she felt a sudden chill at the base of her spine, felt her scalp begin to prickle.
“He here with girl,” Chen said. “Want tattoo. You understand?”
She swallowed hard, and then she nodded.
“What I should do?” Chen asked.
“I…I don’t feel too well,” Priscilla Ames said.
“This won’t take but a moment,” Donaldson assured her.
“Chris, I really don’t feel well. My stomach…” She shook her head. “Do you suppose that food was all right?”
“I’m sure it was, darling. Look, we’ll get the tattoo, and then we’ll stop for a bromo or something, all right? We have a long drive ahead, and I wouldn’t want you to be sick.”
“Chris, do we…do we have to get the tattoo? I feel awful. I’ve never felt like this before in my life.”
“It’ll pass, darling. Perhaps the food was a little too rich.”
“Yes, it must have been something. Chris, I feel awful.”
Carella opened the door to his apartment.
“Teddy?” he called, and then he realized that calling her name was useless if she could not see his lips. He closed the door behind him and walked into the living room. He took off his jacket, threw it onto one of the easy chairs, and then walked through to the kitchen.
The kitchen was empty.
Carella shrugged, went back to the living room, and then opened the door leading to their bedroom. Teddy wasn’t in the bedroom, either.
He stood looking into the room for several moments. Then he sighed, went into the living room again, and opened the window wide. He picked up the newspaper, kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie, and then sat down to read and wait for his wayward wife.
He was dog-tired.
In ten minutes, he was sound asleep in the easy chair.
Bert Kling was making a call on the company’s time.
“How’d it go?” he asked Claire.
“It’s too early to tell,” she said.
“Did she read it?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“And?”
“No expression.”
“None?”
“None. She read