Monday, September 28, 2015

Chapter 11 - An unfortunate tattoo...

I slept fitfully, as though fighting against the urge to sleep the day away.

At 8 am, I threw the covers off and groggily awoke.  Swiping away the drool from the corner of my dry mouth, I grabbed my phone.

There it was - the holy grail - Carmen's phone number.

SQUEE!  I did a momentary happy wiggle in bed that I quit immediately because it made my stomach lunge violently.

I pressed his number and hit 'call'....

"Hey, thanks for inviting me over!" Carmen said as he strode up to my house.

I smiled shyly.  "Thanks for coming over."

"How are you feeling after last night?" he asked.

I laughed self-consciously.  "Hungover as hell!" I admitted.
"Welp. I need to get to work!" he announced, with regret, of course, before striding away.
Dammit! Well, that didn't go too well, I thought with great disappointment.  (AN: Apparently he works from 9 am until 3 am... grr....)

Good thing I had work to distract me.  Dorothy DeMayo reported a burglary.

I stifled a sigh after speaking with her.

I hate cases that begin this way. The burglary happened at night and the client didn't see a thing. Hopefully this neighborhood is full of nosy neighbors – I should ask around to see if somebody saw something.
Everyone reported the same thing.  They'd seen someone with an unfortunate tattoo...

The obvious thing to do now is follow the ink. I should ask the tattoo artist if anyone has a tattoo like the one described.
The tattoo artist doesn't want to talk. I know for a fact there isn't a patient-client privacy clause for tattoo artists. I should snoop around to find a clue that will get me the information I need.  (AN:  HAHAHAHAHA... Hee-larious!  Anne Song is the tattooist!  You can even see her ink under the filmy part of her shirt.)
Aha! I found a receipt for a bulk order of temporary tattoos. It seems the tattoo artist has been selling clients fake tattoos. This seems like the perfect information for black mailing the tattoo artist.

Guess Anne didn't think someone would be going through her trash! I thought as I pulled garbage out of my hair.
Anne caved instantly.  She knew exactly who I was talking about...
I hurried into the dance club, crossing my fingers that Anne didn't tip the guy off...
"Long time no see," I said lightly as I headed into the club.

"HEY! Want an Alien Brain?" he asked, reaching for a glass.
"Actually, I'm here about something else entirely," I told him.  "Remember my friend? The cop?" I added nonchalantly.

Duane began shaking in his boots.  "Sure... why do you ask?" he stuttered.
"It seems your unfortunate tattoo has given you away..." I informed him.  (AN: That is a rather noticeable 'tattoo'!  Although, I think it was probably done with the temporary ink Anne was buying! Lol.)

In the end, Duane happily handed over all of Dorothy's belongings.  Case closed.

Torch Holders: 1
Sim Failing School: 0
Visit from Service Sim: 0
Passing Out: 0
Self-Urination: 0
Accidental Deaths: 0
Social Worker Visit: 0
Births: 0
Twin Births: 0
Triplet Births: 0
Fulfilling LTW: 0
Achieving Honor Roll: 0
Randomizing  LTW choice and trait for a generation: 0
Not using spares Happiness points for a generation: 0
Every 100,000 dollars: 0
NPS Spouse reach the top of their career: 0
Cheat Penalty: 0

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