Catch as Catch Can (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 1), Malcolm Hollingdrake [best large ereader .TXT] 📗

was standing outside Jesters. The window appeared partly frosted in which the words Professional Tattooing were written and the date the shop had opened, 2010. The door followed a similar theme. It looked, as the name suggested, professional and not at all what he had expected. His mind had conjured some grotty shop with a hand painted sign but this … He pushed open the door.

Entering, he was even more impressed. The area was clean and orderly, there was a deep aroma, more a light scent, feminine. On the counter was a large computer screen. Huge framed photographs of shiny tattooed bodies were carefully mounted along the walls, gallery straight. He looked at the first. The image depicted a semi-naked female, the tattoos covering a large percentage of her upper torso were pure artistry.

What appeared to be a glass patio door slid to the side, the same frosted covering, giving privacy to the studio beyond, but this time patterned with ornate swirls.

‘Hello.’ A petite young woman greeted him, sliding the door closed before approaching, all white teeth and smiles. She moved behind the counter before perching on a bar stool raising her high enough to look Brad straight in the eye.

‘How can we help?’

‘DC Bradshaw. You responded to a request for information regarding these tattoos; the gecko and the marks on one hand.’ He pointed to the side of his palm.

‘You have ID I take it, DC Bradshaw? I have an appointment due in fifteen minutes. The ID is for data protection and all that. I want to stay in business a few more years.’ It was said in all seriousness.

‘Sorry, yes. I wouldn’t expect less. It’s all very professional. Shouldn’t take too long.’

Fishing into his pocket he handed his warrant card across the counter. He looked at the intricate coloured tattoos she had over both hands, the images trailing off onto her fingers. The designs were a collection of interlocking Koi carp, oriental in both style and colour. They seemingly swam up each arm, their delicately scaled bodies wrapping, disappearing and returning. They were true works of art that left not one square centimetre of flesh exposed. Brad was fascinated by the tattooist’s skill.

‘You didn’t do those yourself, did you? They’re fabulous.’ He realised as soon as he had spoken how stupid the question was. ‘Sorry, stupid question.’

‘No, my partner. Thank you. It’s about the gecko? I remember it. A simple yet pretty design. He knew just what he wanted and then some fancy numbering on his fingers; Arabic numbering and script. Unusual place for solitary art. We see a lot there if the design is an extension.’ She held out her own hand. ‘See, here, the design runs to just above the nail. The skin is very thin there and can cause problems and discomfort.’

‘He?’

‘Yes, male. Not what you were expecting?’

Brad smiled. ‘In a way, the information’s important, possibly more so.’

She slid off the stool and searched beneath the counter before bringing out a file. ‘It’s here.’ She passed over the gecko’s template.

‘Is this to scale?’

She nodded. ‘Positioned as you demonstrated here. Wanted a two-colour outline, black with a red inner line. He mentioned that the colours represented the colours of a flag. Each to their own. You learn that in this game. You can see it clearly here.’ She pointed to the sheet.

‘Do we have a name?’

‘All part of the professional business. However, he was over twenty, I’m sure, but we do collect contact details just in case we need to notify clients of problems. Standard procedure.’ Turning to the computer she added the reference code from the file. ‘Here we go. Adnan Dushi. Might be Russian, may be Arabic but he didn’t strike me as such from his complexion. Had one of those accents.’

‘Did you ask where he came from?’ Brad asked.

She nodded. ‘He said Walton!’ She laughed out loud. ‘I nearly fell off the chair. Took all of my control to keep a straight face. You learn not to get too involved, ask too many questions, after all they’re coming for a tattoo not counselling or open-heart surgery. Besides, with blokes, there’s always a fine line. You just don’t get too familiar or tattoo where they might not want a tattoo. You learn these things in training. That way you keep safe. Normally my partner’s in but he wasn’t that day.’

‘An address? You mentioned contact details.’

‘Rosslyn Street. Number twelve. There’s a mobile too.’

Brad made notes. ‘Was he alone when he came in?’

‘Think he had a girl with him but I can’t be sure.’

‘CCTV?’ Brad looked at the smoked glass hemisphere attached to the far corner of the ceiling.

‘We do but as you know it’s looped and kept for only six days. This business is highly regulated but there’s no requirement to have cameras, in fact, having them in can be bad for business. As long as we have the consent form and we’re happy with the presentation of ID that’s enough. After all, I trusted your ID.’

She had a point. He said, ‘The symbols on his finger. You said they were Arabic numbers?’

‘I said possibly, yes, apart from the last one which was a series of what looked like Arabic script. He said it meant “love”.’ She looked through the file. ‘I thought I’d kept those too but obviously not. They’ll be somewhere. They were here, here and here with the “love” on this finger.’ She demonstrated on Brad’s hand.

‘You didn’t work on a girl, similar things?’

‘No, sorry.’ Seeing her client appear at the door she immediately turned.

A customer came in. ‘Hi, sorry if I’m a little late. Another one of those mopeds just attacked a woman down the way. Some guy managed to help her. Bloody nuisance. Coppers too busy sitting on their arses, I guess.’

The tattooist covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. ‘I’m sorry, my next appointment.’ Sliding from the stool she collected the file before putting it back under the counter.

‘Thank you. Most useful. If you find the