14
Freeborn was waiting in the corridor, holding a printed image. ‘Dr Temple just sent this over.’
Kate accepted the page and studied the image. ‘This is what he managed to recover from the tattoo on the foot?’
Freeborn nodded. ‘It’s difficult to tell what it is. Claws, maybe? Or the bottom of letters? Do you think it spells something?’
Kate twisted the page in her hand. The scarring was white against the black of the skin where Ben had inverted the colours. She continued to try and decipher the image as they returned to the incident room. ‘That definitely looks like the lower edge of a capital “L” or maybe a “B”,’ Kate suggested, ‘then maybe a lowercase “e” or “c”, or maybe an “o”. Keep playing with possible letter combinations.’
Freeborn pointed at the far area of the image. ‘I definitely think these are claws of some type. A crab or scorpion?’
Kate passed the image back. ‘Keep checking the local parlours and find out who removed it.’
‘Would you ever have a tattoo, ma’am?’
Kate gave him a curious glance. ‘What makes you think I haven’t already got one?’
Freeborn’s cheeks reddened instantly. ‘Oh, ma’am, I-I just didn’t…’
Kate’s lips curled into a smile.
Situated between a takeaway kebab shop and a bookies, the windows of the tattoo studio were blacked out, but the studio’s name hung above, emblazoned in white lettering.
Freeborn locked the car and hurried along the street after Kate. ‘The girl I spoke to on the phone said her boss had removed a scorpion tattoo from a young woman’s leg on Tuesday afternoon.’
A bell sounded as Kate opened the door, followed by a warm blast of air from the overhead heating system.
‘Be with you in a minute,’ a gruff voice shouted from somewhere out the back.
Images of available artwork hung from three of the walls, with the remaining wall covered in floor to ceiling mirrors, with two large barber-style chairs facing them. There were normal chairs against the wall opposite the mirrors, presumably for prospective punters to queue, not that there were any other customers in the shop. Spotting binders with more artwork in a bookcase by one of the mirrors, Kate nodded for Freeborn to grab a couple so they could compare the images with what Ben had produced.
Taking a seat in the waiting-room chairs, they began to flick through the two binders Freeborn had chosen. Kate flipped through page after page of colourful Disney cartoon characters, but nothing came close to resembling the scorpion or any possible letter combinations. Freeborn didn’t appear to be having any better luck either, as his pages were adorned with oriental symbols with English translations scrawled in hand beneath each one.
The sound of metal scraping on metal greeted them as a curtain out the back was pulled open and a guy with a large skull tattooed on his shaved head appeared and looked them up and down. ‘You want your collar number tattooed on your arm, officer? We offer a ten per cent discount to public servants.’
Kate raised her ID and stood. ‘Are you the owner?’
‘Yeah.’ Distrust and loathing dripped from his expression.
Kate passed him the negative image. ‘You recognise this?’
He gave it one look. ‘Nope. Doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever inked.’
The curtain hooks rattled as a thin girl, barely old enough to vote, shuffled through, avoiding eye contact, and began to wipe down the three chairs by the mirrors with a cloth.
‘Actually,’ Kate said, returning her attention to the owner, ‘we believe it was recently removed. Do you remember the woman who asked you to remove it?’
He gave the image a second vague look. ‘It wasn’t removed in here, love. Sorry.’
‘But you do remove tattoos as well as create them, right? That’s what the poster on the wall behind me says.’
He glanced up with a slight shake of his head. ‘We do, but not very often. Most people who come here want more ink, not less.’
The thin girl kept her head bowed as she approached them. ‘You want me to do anything else, boss?’
Kate took in her appearance: long, luminous red hair hanging down past her shoulder blades, but shaved on the right-hand side. The strappy top, fully exposing the range of tattoos weaving into each other down both sides of each skinny arm. Her brown eyes were thick with eyeliner, and she had a ring hanging from between her nostrils, and one through her bottom lip.
‘Unless the detective here wants to be tagged, you can get yourself off for lunch.’
‘Actually,’ Kate blurted, ‘I do. Ten per cent discount, right?’
The owner pulled an unconvinced grimace. ‘Seriously?’
Kate unbuttoned her coat and rested it on the chair next to Laura. ‘Why not? But I want her to do it.’
He frowned. ‘She’s still learning.’
Kate scowled. ‘I’ll take the chance. I’d rather not have a man touching my skin. You understand, right?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Have it your way,’ he said, before turning and disappearing back behind the curtain, pulling it across as he went.
Keeping her head low, the girl moved to the barber-style chair closest to them. ‘Did you have something in particular you wanted doing?’
Kate passed her the picture. ‘How about something like this? I know it’s only part of the image, but you know what it is, don’t you?’
The girl’s eyes widened and she fired a look at the closed curtain. ‘Why would you want something like that?’
‘So, you recognise it, then?’
The girl began to speak, before stopping herself. ‘I-I-I don’t think you were being serious about getting a tattoo. So, if you’re done, I’ll go for my lunch.’
Kate reached for the girl’s arm. ‘Please, don’t go.’ Kate unbuttoned her blouse and lowered it to expose her shoulders, before climbing onto the chair. ‘Please? The woman who had this tattoo removed is dead, and I am desperately trying to identify who she is so I can catch the guy who killed her. You were the one my colleague spoke to, right?’
The girl nodded sheepishly as she shuffled her tools on the work top.
Kate lowered her voice. ‘You said on the phone it was your boss who removed it?’
The girl nodded, glancing anxiously back at the curtain again.
‘It’s okay,’ Kate assured her, gesturing for Freeborn to check the boss wasn’t eavesdropping nearby. He ducked behind the curtain.
‘We’re alone now,’ Kate said. ‘Do you know who the woman was?’
The girl shook her head silently.
‘So, you didn’t recognise her?’
Another shake of the head. ‘Have you decided what you want done yet?’
Kate reopened the binder and began to flip the pages, finally pointing at one of them. ‘Is this going to hurt?’
A thin smile finally broke across the girl’s face. ‘You’ll survive.’
Kate closed her eyes and tried to shut out the urge to leave, as the girl began to stencil the design onto Kate’s right shoulder. ‘What can you tell me about the image that was removed?’ Kate asked through gritted teeth.
The girl sighed. ‘It’s a tag that my boss puts on women who are sent here, but this was the first time I’d ever known someone come to have it removed. She looked so frightened, and was sweating, like she was ill or in pain or something. At first, the boss said he wouldn’t remove it, but then he called the guy who he does the work for, who must have agreed, because the next thing I know the woman is in the chair and he’s charging up the laser.’
‘You didn’t catch her name, I suppose?’
‘Sorry. It was late on Monday, and he told me to leave them to it and go home.’
‘Can you describe her to me?’
‘Pretty, maybe in her early twenties. Long fair hair, slim, small feet – I remember she had the most amazing stilettos, red and glittery – and her accent was foreign.’
‘Foreign how?’ Kate grimaced as the tattoo gun buzzed into life.
‘Polish or Russian, I think. Not from around here.’
‘Did she say why she wanted the tattoo removing?’
‘Not that I heard. I only saw her for a couple of minutes before I went home. Sorry.’
‘You described the tattoo as a sort of tag: who sends these women here to receive it?’
The girl didn’t answer, suddenly focusing intently on Kate’s shoulder.
‘You won’t get in any trouble, I promise,’ Kate encouraged as the needle made contact sending a jolt down her spine.
‘You don’t understand what you’re asking of me,’ the girl replied, her voice so much quieter now.
‘I don’t want you to say anything you aren’t comfortable with, but I promise I won’t reveal where the information came from. You can trust me.’
Kate gritted her teeth as she felt another sudden jolt of pain. She couldn’t determine whether it was par for the course, or whether the girl had pressed harder deliberately.
‘This man who brands these women, is he a pimp? Or a drug dealer?’
‘I don’t know for certain, but…’ the girl began, as the needle continued to spike Kate’s skin, ‘given how these women dress – high heels, short skirts and tons of makeup – I think you can probably figure that out for yourself.’
‘I see you didn’t chicken out then,’ the owner’s voice boomed as he suddenly reappeared from behind the curtain. ‘Guess I underestimated you.’
Kate saw him grinning at her in the mirror, but there was no sign of Freeborn. ‘People have been underestimating me all my life,’ Kate glared back, grinding her teeth to stop the pain from showing; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
His jaw bounced as he chewed his gum. ‘I bet they have. Mind if I sit and watch while she finishes? I want to make sure you get a proper job done.’
Kate could see the panic in the girl’s eyes as she continued to move the needle along the outline she’d drawn. Kate calmly watched the owner as he sat down in the seat Freeborn had earlier vacated. Whatever happened from here, she’d got all the information the girl was going to be able to give.
Twenty minutes later, Kate climbed back into the car where Freeborn was waiting. ‘What happened to you?’
Freeborn offered an apologetic look. ‘When I went through the curtain, I saw the back door had been left open, so I waited there to see if the owner would come back, but there was no sign, so I stepped out. The next thing I know, the door’s pulled closed and I couldn’t get back in.’ Freeborn pulled an empathetic face. ‘Does it hurt?’
Kate pressed her hand against the fresh bandage just below her right shoulder. ‘Not a word of this to anyone.’
Freeborn mimed locking her lips. ‘What did the girl tell you?’
Kate tentatively pulled the seat belt around herself. ‘The tattoo is a symbol, like a brand, and means our victim was probably a prostitute, or part of a group operating in the city’s red-light district. You’d better get us back to the station. I’ll need to feed this new information up the line.’