‘We’ve already had someone down here going into all the shops,’ Izzy said.
‘Yes, but that was to ask if they knew anyone they’d tattooed with that design – this is different,’ Jessica said. ‘It’s more about asking what techniques someone could use and then jogging their memory about the picture we do have.’ Jessica slipped her phone out of her pocket. ‘Anyway, Bin Boy, first roll up your sleeve.’
Dave glanced from Izzy to Jessica. ‘Why?’
‘Just do it.’
He narrowed his eyes but did it anyway. Jessica focused the camera on her phone and snapped a photo of the tattoo on his inner forearm.
‘What are you going to do with that?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to ask the guy in the shop what those symbols actually mean.’
Dave looked down at the Chinese lettering on his arm, scowled, then rolled his sleeve back down. ‘I told you years ago, they mean “warrior”.’
Izzy giggled: ‘Ten quid says they don’t.’
‘I want in on that too,’ Jessica added.
Thrusting his hands into his pockets, Dave muttered something about not having any money on him and how he didn’t gamble anyway.
Five minutes later, photos in hand, and they were back. Jessica naturally picked the dingiest-looking tattoo parlour, Izzy chose the one that had an impressive if slightly pornographic-looking drawing of a barely clad woman in the window, which left Dave with the shop that had a vast mural at the front containing images of straight swords, scimitars, a kilij, assorted knives, throwing stars and any number of other weapons. Jessica assured Dave he was unlikely to get himself stabbed, but if he did then he should keep the noise down because this was a quiet area.
The shop that Jessica had chosen looked far nicer on the inside than it did on the outside. Compared to the half-closed shutters that had ‘rachal takes it up the arse’ graffitied onto them in admittedly fancy letters, the bright cream of the interior and spotless floor was a surprising change. Lining the walls were row after row of artwork ranging from small black and white letters up to elaborate prints of safari animals. There were two doors at the back, with a bored-looking slim woman resting against a desk near the front. Her long, straight black hair and bright red lips were offset against extravagant red and green tattoos winding the entire length of both arms.
Jessica didn’t ask but mentally named the woman ‘Rose’ because it was etched onto her shoulder.
‘How can I help you, luv?’ Rose asked.
‘Do you actually do the tattoos?’
‘Not yet – only piercings.’ Without missing a beat, she screeched the word ‘Bones!’ so shrilly that it made Jessica wince.
From one of the rooms at the back a man emerged wearing an apron. Average height, average weight, mid-thirties, half-smile: everything about Bones seemed perfectly normal – except for the fact that his entire bald head was tattooed with an intricate, inter-connecting pattern of shapes, lines and symbols. Around his eyes there were crescent moons, with ripple-like markings stretching out to his ears. At least half-a-dozen small rings were pinned into his right nostril, with some sort of spike poking out from the other side. As he walked towards her, Bones interlocked his fingers, cracking his knuckles and showing off his bare arms.
‘A’ight?’ he asked, with a slight hint of a local accent.
Jessica showed him her ID and asked if he could spare a few minutes. With a shrug he said it was okay if she was quick. Considering his shop was teeming with hordes of invisible people, Jessica thought it was fair enough.
‘How much do you know about temporary tattoos?’ she asked.
‘I don’t do henna,’ Bones replied.
‘I’m not sure that’s what I mean. Is there any sort of ink you use that’s particularly easy to clear away? Perhaps in the shower? Something like that?’
‘Why?’
‘It’s something we’re working on.’
‘I think she means ballpoints,’ Rose called across.
Jessica turned to Rose, who hadn’t looked up, and then back to Bones. ‘Like a biro?’ she asked.
Bones shook his head. ‘It depends on the artist. Generally, you’d use a regular tattoo gun that was slightly modified. You’d be putting the ink onto the surface of the skin, rather than puncturing it. I’ve heard of some lads who do it with an actual pen but you’d have to really know what you were doing – and trust whoever was inking you.’
Jessica thought of the tattoos she’d seen on a few prisoners over the years who had used needles or blades and a biro. They were nothing like the intricate markings on the arm of their robber.
‘How elaborate can a ballpoint tattoo be?’ she asked.
Bones shrugged, indicating the images on the walls around the room. ‘You could turn any of these into a ballpoint tattoo if you wanted – it’d cost you a lot, though.’
‘Is the ink expensive?’
He scratched his head, just below a wide arc that dipped towards his eyebrows, and glanced towards Rose. ‘It’s the time. It takes the same length to create as a real one but only lasts a few days.’
Jessica was confused. ‘So why would you get one?’
‘People rarely do. Perhaps if you were in a play or on television, something like that. If you’re doing a movie with a huge budget, then the cost doesn’t matter.’
She paused for a moment, thinking that it would be a lot of expense if you were simply going to hold up a few off-licences. Jessica took the folded photograph out of her pocket and showed it to Bones, asking what he thought of it.
He stared closely and shrugged. ‘One of your lot came around asking about this the other day.’
‘I know, but we believed it was a real tattoo then. Now I’m thinking it could be one of your ballpoint ones.’
Bones took another look but shook his head. ‘Not my thing. There are a few places around here, perhaps try them?’
Jessica was about to ask how long it might take to create when Bones started scratching at his crotch. ‘Sorry, I really need a slash. Been on the water all morning.’
Charming.
As he scurried into the back room, Jessica approached Rose again. ‘Have you ever seen anything like this?’ she asked, holding out the photo.
The woman took it. ‘Not as something temporary but it’s fairly common stuff. If you were good, you’d be drawing lines like those pretty much every day.’
‘How long would it take to come off?’
Rose shrugged and handed the photo back. ‘If you did nothing to it, it could be there four or five days, maybe longer. But you could make it really temporary by washing it off yourself.’
‘Could you smudge it by accident?’
‘Maybe. The ink’s on the skin so I suppose.’
Interesting.
Jessica put the photo away and then remembered Dave’s arm. She held up her phone, showing the photograph. ‘Any idea what this says?’ she asked.
Rose peered closely. ‘Is that Mandarin?’
‘No idea. He claims it says “warrior”.’
With a smile, Rose climbed off the stool and led Jessica to the far wall. ‘People always come in wanting things like that – “king”, “general”, “prince”, “ninja”, any old shite.’ She pointed to a string of Far-Eastern-looking characters. ‘That’s Mandarin for “warrior”. We have some steroid-freak in every few weeks asking for it.’
Jessica compared the characters on the wall to the ones on her phone. Although the design seemed similar, the exact characters were completely different. Jessica grinned: if only she could find out what the tattoo actually said.
She packed her phone away, ready to give Dave the good news, when she had one final thought. Showing Rose the photo of the robber again, Jessica asked: ‘If the ballpoint tattoos cost roughly the same as a regular tattoo, how much would this be?’
‘A few hundred?’
Definitely not worth it just to hold up an off-licence then.
Rose chewed on her tongue for a moment, before adding: ‘Well, unless you did it yourself, of course.’