From Karen E. Olson's Tattoo Shop Mysteries
When I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved in police business again, I really meant it. But I didn’t count on getting framed for murder.
I’m Brett Kavanaugh. I’m a tattoo artist. I own my own ship, The Painted Lady, at the Grand Canal Shoppes at the Venetian resort on the Las Vegas Strip. I went to school to study art, but an art major is more useless than an English degree, so I began training as a tattooist to make some money. I came out to Vegas from New Jersey when my brother, Tim, lured me with the prospect of sharing his house and buying the business from his friend, Flip Armstrong.
Tim’s a Las Vegas police detective. He’s been regretting my move ever since. Because I have a little problem. I happen to be a crime magnet. Not that I commit crimes, but I stumble on them by accident and suddenly I’m in the midst of it all. Tim says that normal people just nose around in people’s medicine cabinets. I am not normal.
My friend and rival tattooist Jeff Coleman tells me to ignore Tim. He encourages me. Maybe that’s why I decided he’s not so bad after all, even though I hated him at first. My shop manager Bitsy also encourages me, but more about the men in my life. Sadly, I haven’t had a lot of luck with that. My employee and friend Joel is just there for me, regardless of what mess I’ve gotten myself into.
Which brings me to my latest problem. A client and friend, Dee Carmichael, who’s the lead singer for the band The Flamingos, has just been found dead in a hotel room. Some ink pots and tattoo machine needles were in the room, too, and a tall redhead was seen in the area.
I’m a tall redhead whose business it is to have ink pots and tattoo machine needles around. See where I’m going with this? And on top of it, a tattoo blogger has started posting pictures of me, pictures I wasn’t aware were being taken.
Somehow I have to figure out what’s going on. I have to clear my name. I can’t help myself.