The Tattoo Thief

by Alison Belsham

  It was when her thirty minutes were virtually up that she saw it. A forearm in the process of being tattooed. The artist’s hand was in the way so she couldn’t make out what he was working on. But that didn’t matter, it wasn’t what caught her attention. She stopped scrolling down the page for one reason only. The back of the sitter’s hand was heavily tattooed in dark red. Marni squinted at the image, trying to see whether it was a rose. She clicked the cursor to enlarge the image.

  The tattoo might match what Dan Carter had described. But as she stared at it to make out what it was, she realised it wasn’t a rose after all.

  It was anything but a rose.

  33

  Francis

  It was more than a little unusual for Bradshaw to put in an appearance at the station on a Sunday evening. In fact, it was practically testament to how worried he was about solving the case. He was looking for the reflected glory of a timely arrest and no doubt well aware that if the case went cold, it was the chief’s career which would suffer most. Rory had reluctantly confided in Francis that he was being constantly harassed to bring people in and find the evidence against them.

  ‘Rather than find the evidence, draw conclusions and then make the arrests,’ said Francis. ‘Has he forgotten everything he learned in training?’

  ‘Trouble is, the evidence we’ve got so far tells us nothing,’ said Rory with a sigh. ‘A bit of information on the types of blades and no leads.’

  They were sharing an uneasy truce in the incident room, drinking tea and mulling over the events of the past twenty-four hours, when Bradshaw swept in. He looked surprised to see his new OIC fraternising with the one he’d just pulled off the case.

  ‘What are you doing here, Sullivan? You’re not on this case.’

  Rory stood up so he could meet the Chief’s glare, eye to eye.

  ‘I called him in. He’s not currently assigned to anything and I felt I could use his existing knowledge to analyse what happened last night. No point leaving an officer idle who might be able to contribute.’

  Thankfully this appeared to remind Bradshaw what he was doing in the station on a Sunday evening. ‘I want a progress update on all of that, Mackay. Come to my office in five minutes.’

  After he was gone, Rory sat down again and drained his cup of tea.

  ‘I want you back on the case, Sullivan.’

  Francis shrugged. ‘You’ll have to convince Bradshaw of that.’

  Rory narrowed his eyes. ‘No. We’ll have to convince him.’

  Francis knocked on the door of Bradshaw’s office and went in. His heart was pounding and adrenalin jangled his nerves. Rory followed him in.

  Bradshaw was reading a report and didn’t look up.

  ‘Sit down, Rory,’ he said.

  Francis coughed. It was enough to make Bradshaw realise that Rory hadn’t come on his own.

  ‘What are you doing here – I asked Rory for a case update. I didn’t include you, did I?’

  ‘You need to put me back in charge.’

  Rory’s head whipped round in anger. ‘What the fuck . . .? That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I’m the ranking officer in the department. I should be running the case.’ Francis turned and looked at Rory. ‘You want me back on the case? Then you’ll be working for me. Got that?’

  Bradshaw tried to interject but Francis gave no ground and continued.

  ‘Last night we got lucky, very lucky indeed. A couple coming home after pub closing time disturbed the Tattoo Thief at work. He got away, of course. But he left us with a survivor and two witnesses. Don’t let their testimony go to waste.’

  ‘Rory can manage that information without your help.’

  ‘The victim of the attack was a man called Dan Carter. He has a full body suit by a tattooist based in Italy called Petra Danielli. She was one of the tattooists in the Saatchi Gallery exhibition. It pretty much proves the theory that the killer’s collecting tattoos by an exclusive group of artists. The theory that neither you nor Rory put much faith in. It’s time to admit that I was right.’

  Bradshaw narrowed his eyes, looking from one to the other of them. ‘All right, what else have you got, Sullivan?’

  ‘The attacker had outlined the tattoo with cuts, using, we believe, a short-bladed knife. He then changed knives and started to flay Carter’s shoulder. The blades used are certainly similar in style to those that were used on Evan Armstrong, though there’s no way of knowing if they were in fact the same ones. The pattern of the cuts suggests that he was intending to remove the entire body suit in two pieces – the front and the back – if he hadn’t been interrupted.’

  ‘Body suit?’

  ‘A Japanese-style tattoo that extends over the entire torso, arms and legs.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Mr Carter couldn’t tell us much as he was attacked from behind and rendered unconscious. But he does remember one thing from a moment of lucidity. The killer was wearing white latex gloves and Carter could see through them – the man has tattoos on the backs of both hands, dark red, most probably roses.’

  ‘So you have a possible identifier for him.’

  ‘On my advice, Mackay has put Hollins and Hitchins on an image search to find people with similar tattoos. Tomorrow, they’ll visit all the local tattoo shops and ask if anyone remembers doing tattoos that could match Carter’s description. I feel confident, sir, that we’ll be able to pick up some leads.’

  ‘That Rory will be able to pick up some leads, Sullivan. What about the couple, what did they have to say?’

  ‘They ducked into an alleyway in the Lanes to find some privacy. They weren’t really looking further down the alley but the killer, presumably perceiving them as a threat, rushed past them to get away. At the same time, they heard a moan in the distance and the man went to investigate. They basically saved Carter’s life.’

  ‘What about the attacker? What did they see?’

  ‘Not much. He was carrying a hefty bag – nearly knocked the girl over with it – and he had a baseball cap pulled on low to shield his face. He was taller than the man, probably at least six foot. They didn’t hear his voice and it was too dark to catch his hair or eye colour.’ Francis shrugged. ‘It’s the information from Carter that should really enable us to move forward.’

  Bradshaw steepled his hands on the desk. ‘So you think I should reinstate you? Rory’s been doing a decent job without you, and nothing you’ve just said changes that.

  ‘Rory, are you ready to step down?’ said Bradshaw, not bothering with niceties.

  ‘No, sir,’ said Rory. ‘I’m the more experienced officer, after all.’

  ‘Tough decision,’ said Bradshaw.

  Clearly it was tough working out which course of action would be better for his career, rather than most likely to solve the murders. Francis despised him.

  Bradshaw went over to the window and looked out, his back to the two officers.

  ‘Rory’s in charge. You take the rest of the week off, Sullivan. I’ll reassign you on Monday.’ He couldn’t even look them in the eye.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Rory. ‘You’ve made the right choice.’

  Smarmy little git.

  There was nothing for Francis to say.

  ‘Now we know whose work the killer is targeting, we should be able to tempt him into the open,’ said Rory.

  ‘What you’re implying is entrapment,’ said Francis, ‘using a potential victim as bait.’

  ‘Shut up, Sullivan.’

  ‘But it’s a totally unethical way to proceed.’

  Bradshaw glared at him. Francis wondered if he’d gone too far. At this rate he’d never get back on the case.

  ‘So you think we should rely solely on a hunch based on Carter’s blurred memory of an obscured hand?’ sneered Bradshaw.

  ‘It’s ridiculo
us,’ said Rory.

  In his pocket, Francis felt the familiar vibration of a missed call.

  ‘It’s our best lead to date,’ he said.

  ‘Mackay, you do what you think is right, and report back to me.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The phone vibrated in Francis’s pocket again.

  ‘And I’m sure there will be plenty of forensic evidence once Rose has finished with the attack site. Focus on that.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Rory.

  ‘Right, Mackay, you and your team have got precisely twenty-four hours to bring me something concrete. Don’t fuck it up, Sergeant. I don’t give second chances.’

  ‘I won’t, sir.’

  ‘Sullivan, I don’t want to see your face in here again until I’ve assigned you to another case.’

  As soon as they were out of the room, Rory headed for the stairs at speed without saying a word. Too angry too talk to him, Francis hung back and pulled his phone from his pocket. It vibrated again in his hand – someone was desperate to talk to him.

  There were text messages. All of them were from Marni Mullins. He opened the most recent and an image filled his screen. It was a hand. A tattooed hand.

  The tattoo wasn’t a rose.

  Deep red, harsh black outlines, black contouring.

  It took Francis a couple of seconds to process the image, and then he saw it. It was a human heart, anatomically accurate and practically still pulsating. Dripping with dark rivulets of blood.

  Was this the hand of the killer?

  34

  Marni

  When Marni arrived at the station, she was escorted to the incident room by Angie Burton. The policewoman hardly spoke to her on the way up the stairs, giving Marni the distinct feeling she was looking down her nose from a great height. No matter. She was used to it – a certain section of the population had no time for people with tattoos.

  Rory Mackay escorted her to an empty desk, where she got out her laptop.

  ‘Francis said you’d found some images that might be the attacker’s hands,’ he said.

  Marni looked round. ‘Isn’t he here?’

  ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He threw a press conference against the chief’s orders, so now he’s off the case.’

  ‘I saw it. It was just what was needed. He shouldn’t have been taken off the case for that.’

  ‘Yes, but the press has gone to town. These are now “the Tattoo Thief” killings, apparently. Top brass are furious.’ He changed the subject abruptly. ‘Show me the pictures.’

  Marni scrolled through her files and opened her picture gallery.

  Rory stared at the enlarged image of the human heart tattoo on the screen. Marni watched him. She’d spent the last hour gazing at the picture – she didn’t need to look at it again.

  ‘Ever seen anything like it before?’ said Rory, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  ‘Sure. Human hearts are common, most often on chests. But I’ve seen them in all the usual places for a tattoo. Can’t remember seeing them like this, on the back of someone’s hand, though.’

  ‘Do you think this is what Dan Carter could have seen through the attacker’s glove?’

  Marni shrugged. ‘Maybe. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t a hundred other people with roses or hearts or something else tattooed on the back of their hands.’

  ‘Does the work look familiar to you?’

  ‘Not at all, but I’ve emailed the image to Thierry, Charlie and Noa to see if they have any thoughts on it. Really, we’ve got more chance of getting a lead from the guy who’s tattooing him. This picture was taken at the convention – that immediately cuts it down to the tattooists who were there.’

  ‘How many’s that?’

  ‘About three hundred and fifty.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘But nearly half of them were women.’

  Rory glanced back at the picture. She was right – the hands of the tattooist were big and brawny, with heavy forearms stretching from his black gloves. The picture didn’t extend far enough to include his face, but they could see the T-shirt he was wearing – an Iron Maiden tour T-shirt, its black background faded to dark grey with age.

  ‘Angie, Tony, come and look at this.’

  The two detectives came across to where Marni was sitting and peered at the screen over her shoulder. Hitchins let out a long, low whistle.

  ‘Nasty,’ he said.

  ‘Angie, get a memory stick, would you? Then try and find a match to the guy tattooing with artists that were at the convention.’

  ‘Sure, boss,’ said Angie, turning to go back to her own desk. She came back a moment later and, without checking whether it was okay with Marni, stuck a memory stick into the side of her laptop.

  ‘Download them, please,’ she said.

  Marni wasn’t thrilled by her tone.

  ‘This’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack,’ said Hitchins.

  ‘Then get to it.’ Rory turned to face Marni. ‘Thank you for bringing these in, Ms Mullins. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.’

  Angie pulled the loaded memory stick from the laptop and Marni realised she’d been dismissed. Fine. They didn’t need Francis any more and they didn’t need her. It seemed more than a little unfair that he was off the case for just warning people of the danger, but wasn’t this what she’d come to expect from the police? Now, if they didn’t need any more of her help, she wouldn’t offer it. But they’d better catch this damn lunatic before he struck again.

  Alex was watching football when she got home. It was past eleven o’clock but she could see from the way he was dressed – black bondage trousers and a ripped Bob Marley T-shirt – that he was planning to go out.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ she said, dropping onto the sofa next to him with a glass of wine and a bag of crisps.

  ‘Liv’s boyfriend’s having a party before he goes off travelling.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Can I take beer?’

  ‘Do we have any?’

  Alex shrugged but wasn’t interested enough to stop watching the match to find out.

  Marni sipped her wine, ignoring the football. She’d spent enough time in front of a screen today. Once Alex had gone, she could indulge herself with a long, hot soak in the bath. She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes.

  ‘Mum!’

  She sat up with a jerk, splashing wine on her lap and the adjacent cushion.

  ‘Doorbell!’

  ‘Well, get it then.’

  Alex frowned at her but hauled himself off the sofa. Marni dabbed at the spilled wine with her sleeve, hoping it wasn’t Thierry at the door.

  ‘It’s for you – that cop,’ shouted Alex from the hall. ‘I’m off now. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘You staying over?’

  ‘Probably.’ Alex stuck his head back through the door. ‘And even if I come home, you’ll be asleep.’

  She got up and managed to kiss him on the cheek as he turned to go. Francis Sullivan was standing in the hall – and for some reason the unexpected sight of him made her momentarily flustered. As the door banged shut behind Alex, she beckoned him into the living room.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Come through.’

  Pepper gave an excited bark when Francis came into the room, and heaved himself up from the hearth to sniff a trouser leg. Francis ignored him.

  ‘Sorry to come round so late, but Rory just sent these over to me and I thought you’d want to see them.’

  So at least one of the team appreciated her efforts. Then she remembered he wasn’t even on the investigation any more.

  ‘Rory told me you’re off the case.’

  Francis put his laptop down on the coffee t
able.

  ‘Officially, yes. But in my mind, it’s still my case.’

  ‘Wine?’

  He hesitated for a moment before answering. ‘I’d better not,’ he said finally.

  She ignored his answer and got a glass for him. Then she topped up her own, and sat down next to him on the sofa.

  ‘Look at these,’ he said. ‘This is the tattooist that was working on the man we think could be a suspect.’

  Marni studied the pictures he brought up on the screen. There were several shots of a muscular tattoo artist working on a number of different clients. Some showed him in the faded T-shirt and he had the same brawny forearms with tribal tattoos on them.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Marni. ‘The T-shirt’s the same as in the picture I found. It didn’t take long for you guys to find him.’

  ‘Rory put the whole team on it. The advantage of having manpower. He’s called James Diamond. Heard of him?’

  Marni shook her head. She didn’t recognise the name or the man in the picture. ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘We get in touch with this guy and find out who he tattooed at the convention. And that should give us our killer.’

  ‘Maybe. If the heart tattoo is what Dan saw through the glove.’

  ‘Of course. And if it wasn’t, we’re back to square one.’

  ‘Where does he work?’ said Marni.

  ‘Out of a studio in Guildford. Fancy a trip there tomorrow morning?’

  ‘I thought you were off the case?’

  ‘It’s not a line of enquiry Bradshaw approves of. Rory will concentrate on the direction Bradshaw wants to take. He won’t get round to it for a day or two.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘We can steal a march on him. I’m still determined to solve this case and this could be an important lead.’

  Francis Sullivan had something to prove.

  ‘Sure, I’ll come with you. It’s in my interests to get this killer under lock and key, given I’m likely to know half his victims.’ She sipped her wine and thought for a moment. ‘It makes the hours spent looking through those photos worthwhile.’