To Thine Own Self Be True by Judy Clemens Read Free Book Online

tomorrow to decide. The roads will probably open, and he can go. Until then, I guess you’ll survive.”
    I gave a small laugh. “I guess.”
    She flicked me with a towel. “Now come on. Stop being a chicken and talk to the man.”
    We were headed toward the living room when the phone rang. I answered.
    “Stella?”
    “That’s me.”
    “Rusty Oldham.”
    “Rusty? Geez. It’s been forever.”
    “Longer. How’s that steer head treating you?”
    I reached up to touch the tattoo on the back of my neck. The tattoo Rusty had inked as soon as I’d turned eighteen and Howie couldn’t stop me. “Never looked better.”
    “Listen,” he said, “I’m calling about Wolf and Mandy. I got a call from Bart Watts, said you were asking questions.”
    Thank God for friends who did what they promised.
    “Yeah. It’s a mess. Wolf was doing a tattoo for me and left right in the middle of it. And, well, you know what happened to Mandy.” I breathed carefully, then said, “Wolf’s still missing.”
    “I know.” His voice broke, and he paused. “I don’t like that one bit. And I don’t care what they say, it’s not ’cause he did anything to Mandy.”
    “I’m with you. That’s why I’ve been checking around. You have some news?”
    “Just some info for you to pass on to your detective, if you’ve got his number.”
    “Her number. And yes, I’ll pass it on, unless you want to call her yourself.”
    “I’ll let you do it. Can’t say I’m too comfortable with cops. Never have been, since they raided my place back in the nineties.”
    “I’ll relay your info. Although she’ll probably want your name.”
    He sighed. “If it will help Wolf.”
    “She’s a good cop. At least she’s treated me well, tattoos and all. So what you got?”
    “Last spring at the Forged in Ink convention in Wyomissing, an artist named Lance Thunderbolt—”
    “No way. Lance Thunderbolt?”
    “‘Fraid so. Claims he’s part Perkasie Indian. Anyway, Lance about went apeshit ‘cause he said Wolf stole some of his flash. Went around telling everybody Wolf was a thief.”
    “It wasn’t true.”
    “Course not. Wolf’s a far superior artist.”
    My mind went to the flash, Wolf’s art, displayed on the walls at Wolf Ink. Detailed, colorful, beautiful designs, begging to be etched into someone’s skin.
    “But?” I said.
    Rusty grunted. “Lance spent a lot of time and effort, not to mention money, trying to prove Wolf plagiarized his work. Never did amount to anything but a pain in the ass, and he finally slunk away with his tail between his legs.”
    “Did he threaten Wolf and Mandy?”
    “Lots of times. But only with money stuff. Never violence.”
    “But you’re still calling to tell me this.”
    Rusty sighed again. “Thunderbolt was humiliated. Basically told by the entire community that Wolf’s art made his look like little kid scribbles. Or worse. Who knows where that could lead a man?”
    I leaned against the wall, thinking. “So when exactly did this happen?”
    “Started in…well, Forged in Ink was in April. So it was from then until, I’d say, about October till he finally gave it up.”
    “So pretty recent.”
    “And who knows? Maybe something happened to remind him.”
    I picked up a pen. “You got information where my detective could reach him?”
    He rattled off the business name—Ink Warrior—and where he was located in Pennsburg.
    “I already been by his place, and it’s locked up tight. Thought if he had anything to do with Wolf’s kidnapping, with Mandy’s… Anyway, I wanted first crack at him. But he ain’t there. So you can tell your detective, but I don’t know what good it’ll do her.”
    “Thanks, Rusty. Where are you these days, anyway? Still in Philly?”
    “Actually, no. Moved up to North Wales. Wanted to be more in the country.”
    “The country? Up here in development heaven?”
    “Compared to Philly it’s the country. No skyscrapers.”
    “Okay. I hear what you’re