Free To Thine Own Self Be True by Judy Clemens Page A

hard to find the right people.” She sighed. “So where are you now?”
    I glanced toward the house. “Going to talk to some more people in the community. In fact, here comes Rusty now.”
    He walked down the sidewalk toward us, and Nick lowered his window.
    “Gotta go,” I said to Shisler.
    “I guess from what you said before I shouldn’t tag along?”
    “Not if we want these folks to say anything worthwhile.”
    “You’ll keep me informed?”
    “I am right now.”
    “Yes, I know. Thank you. Talk to you soon.”
    I hung up and handed the phone back to Nick just as Rusty got to the window.
    “Where to now?” I asked.
    He leaned his elbows on the door, his eyes rimmed with red. He swiped at them with his thumb and forefinger, not even trying to hide that he’d been crying. “I was thinking Giovanni’s deli, but I can’t say I’m real hungry.”
    I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. Just about noon. “There something there other than hoagies that you want?”
    He nodded. “Gio’s good friends with lots in the tattoo community. Could know things I don’t.”
    “We don’t have to eat, right?”
    “Guess not. But maybe once we’re in the place I’ll find my appetite.”
    “Then why don’t we head there?”
    He slapped Nick’s open window. “Let’s go.”
    We followed him through the salty streets toward Hatfield, where Giovanni’s took up one corner of an intersection. We parked in the well-plowed lot and found a place in line in the noisy restaurant. Giovanni himself, his olive skin flushed from heat, was busy behind the counter, taking orders and sliding pizzas into the two-tiered oven. His well-muscled arms displayed several tattoo artists’ work, and I had a feeling Wolf and Rusty had each done their part. His right arm was criss-crossed with an unusual barbed-wire design—not just the kind that circles the biceps—and his left held a panorama of eyes. I imagined it would be rather spooky under the right circumstances.
    When we reached the front of the line and Giovanni saw Rusty, his eyes sparked with sadness. He obviously knew about Mandy. “Hey, my man.”
    “Gio,” Rusty said.
    “Can I get you something?” Gio asked.
    Rusty sighed, checking out the menu board above the owner’s head. “Just a plain turkey hoagie. No onions or nothing.”
    “Oil?”
    “Better not.”
    Gio nodded and turned to me. “You look familiar. At least that tat on your neck does.”
    “Stella Crown. And the skull’s some of Rusty’s work.”
    “Thought so.”
    “Can I get a pizza steak hoagie? Extra sauce? Sweet peppers?”
    He cocked his finger at me and looked at Nick. “You with them?”
    Nick smiled. “I am. Italian hoagie, please. Oil, vinegar, oregano.”
    “Fries for anybody? Chips? Drinks?”
    We declined the fried stuff, but agreed to the drinks, and Gio barked our orders to two men working at the food spread behind him. His brothers, probably. Or sons. Nephews.
    “Any chance we could get a little of your time?” Rusty asked Gio.
    He nodded shortly. “Rush will soon be over. You sit and eat, and I’ll be out.”
    We took our number and found an empty table toward the back of the room where we sat, Nick taking the chair beside me. I made sure our legs didn’t touch.
    It was a busy scene. Guys in working-class uniforms, women with bickering children, some of each gender in suits and business casuals. Working right up to Christmas.
    Just about everybody, no matter their dress, sent surreptitious glances toward Rusty and his colorful head. Probably his nose ring, too. I guessed I couldn’t blame them, but it made me feel like we were in the zoo, and I wanted to snap at them all to mind their own goddamn business.
    “Harrisonburg’s beginning to look just like this,” Nick said. “Barely space to eat lunch.”
    I grunted. “That’s what happens when every square inch of land gets developed.”
    He didn’t say anything, focusing on the tabletop. Rusty looked at me, eyebrows