Chapter 44
Indica stared at the screen without saying anything.
It was as though she was under a spell. She looked at each photograph individually, then stepped back and took them all in at once.
She leaned in and studied the eyes, the mouth, the hair.
Before it could get awkward, she said, ‘And this isn’t Photoshopped? ’
‘We don’t think so,’ Poe said.
‘It ain’t Photoshopped!’
‘Esmerée’s seen it in the flesh,’ Poe explained.
‘Then I haven’t ever seen anything like this,’ Indica said. ‘I haven’t even heard of anything like this.’
‘You don’t know the tattooist?’ Poe said.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen work of this quality before.’
Poe wasn’t disappointed. It had been a long shot, but sometimes they paid off.
‘Do you mind if I take a picture?’ She took out her iPhone. ‘I can show it to the next mansplainer who tells me the soles of the feet can’t be tattooed.’
‘Kill the screen, Tilly,’ Poe said.
It took her less than a second. Poe suspected she’d installed one of the MI5 kill switches he knew they used.
‘Sorry, Indica, I can’t let you take photographs. I don’t even want you talking about the tattoo. It didn’t end well for the last person.’
‘Oh?’
‘Asshole cops arrested Poe for his murder yesterday.’
‘Thanks, Esmerée,’ Poe said. ‘That was very helpful.’
‘I haven’t heard about this,’ Indica said.
‘It wasn’t in Carlisle; it was in London. The case we’re working on took me there.’
‘OK, you can put it back up, Tilly. I won’t take a photograph.’
‘Do tattooists sometimes sign their work?’ Poe asked.
‘Some do. I don’t. The ones who do might use their initials or they might have a calling card. There’s a guy from one of the big LA studios always puts a skull in his tattoos. Sometimes it’s so small you need a magnifying glass to see it.’
‘Has this happened here?’
‘A skull?’
‘A calling card.’
Indica studied the tattoo again. ‘There’s no way to tell. Not without seeing other examples of their work.’
‘There’s no way to identify the tattooist then?’
‘Not from the tattoo,’ she said. ‘But you’re missing the point.
’ She gestured towards the screen. ‘Whoever did this is an artist. And I mean a real artist. Like trained. You don’t find them through their tattoos, Poe.
You find them through their art. Someone will recognise their work.
Their style. They’re too good not to be known.
I’d place a call to the Royal College of Art. Start there.’
Poe thought she was right. An artist as talented as this wouldn’t have restricted themself to tattoos.
It was probably a sideline. Art boffins were ten-a-penny, though.
He imagined he could ask twenty of them the same question and get twenty different opinions.
No, he needed to speak to someone who could take ego out of the equation.
Luckily, he knew just the man.