But something else was tugging at hermind. The idea of secret messages, symbolism, and hidden numbers. Both of theirvictims had had tattoos. What if there was something hidden within them,something that would give them more of a clue?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Shelley left off from the line of thepaperwork she was filling in and looked up at Zoe. As usual, Zoe was in her ownworld, completely oblivious to everything going on around her. She likely hadn’teven noticed that they needed to fill in the paperwork for Diaz’s arrest andsubsequent handover to the local cops, so Shelley had taken it upon herself tomake sure that it was done.
As she carefully filled out the pagesupon pages that needed to be documented, in order to ensure there was no legalloophole for his lawyers to exploit later, Shelley kept half an eye on Zoe. Herbehavior was verging on the manic, and it was starting to become a cause forconcern. She was running back and forth to the printer, laying out pictures oftattoos taken from the social media accounts of the two victims, poring overthem in close detail.
Cesar Diaz had been a bust, but now Zoewas focused in on this element of the tattoos and didn’t seem to want to moveaway from it. She was acting like an obsessive, looking through page after pageof social media posts on both of their accounts, cross-checking with theaccounts of tattoo artists, getting every angle she could of each piece ofinked art. It was as though she was trying to work out the code within them, tofind out which gang they were affiliated with or what secret crimes the tattooswere a confession to.
“Hey, Z,” Shelley said, trying to chooseher words carefully, keeping her tone light and casual. “You know that tattoosare sometimes just… tattoos, right? Like you were saying before. They can bejust meaningless. A piece of art the person liked, and nothing more.”
“Hmm,” Zoe said.
Shelley waited, but that was the onlyresponse. She was going to have to try harder if she wanted to pull her offthis course—and toward something, anything, that might help them investigate. “Weshould be looking at anyone who knew both John and Clay. See if there’s anyonewith a grudge that never got cleared up. Friends, even family members. Membersof Clay’s gang. Even if it has nothing to do with Cesar, it could still beconnected to the dealing.”
“It could be,” Zoe agreed, barelylooking up from her latest printouts. “What do you think this rose means?”
Shelley hesitated. She didn’t want toencourage this line of investigation, but then again, Zoe was the senior agent.She was supposed to know best, wasn’t she? She could well be onto something.When Shelley had doubted her in the past, she had managed to pull it togetherand find something real.
But she didn’t get tattoos. She didn’tunderstand that they were a social trend, that people loved getting them justfor the sake of it—and not just criminals. That they were mainstream now.
Perhaps the best thing to do would be toexplain as much as she could about what she knew, and let Zoe work her own wayaround to understanding that it really meant nothing that the victims both hadink.
“It usually means remembrance, Isuppose,” Shelley said. “People get them after a loved one dies. Usually agrandparent, a mother, an aunt, or so on. But then people just get roses, youknow? They’re pretty. If you’re a girl, and you want a tattoo, they look niceenough.”
“What about this tiger?” Zoe said,moving on without comment on Shelley’s explanation, holding up a printout ofJohn Dowling’s bicep tattoo. “It is not a Western representation, is it? MoreAsian, it looks to me.”
Shelley bit her lip, and then hertongue. She tried to remember the strategy she had decided upon only momentsbefore instead of losing her patience. “Quite possibly Japanese in origin.There’s a lot of respect for classic Asian tattoos. Traditional Japanese styleshave made a big comeback, as well as some traditional methods.”
“But what does it mean?” Zoe pressed.
Shelley tried to cast her mind back overwhat she knew, which admittedly was not very much. She was hardly a tattooexpert herself, even if she was much more knowledgeable than Zoe was in thisarea. “Strength and protection, I think. A lot of traditional tattoos havethose kinds of connotations. Protection, luck, wealth, health, memory.”
“And these traditional meanings aregaining again in popularity.”
So, at least Zoe really was listening. “That’sright. I don’t know if it means that everyone really understands what they’regetting tattooed. Like I said, sometimes it’s just about what looks good.Seeing a tattoo you like on an artist’s social media and getting them to tattooit on you.”
Zoe looked up at this, her interestfully piqued. “So, it is the tattooist who comes up with the design?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“What about yours? It had personalmeaning.”
Shelley nodded. There were times whenshe felt like Zoe was trying to trap her in a logic puzzle, prove herself rightby outsmarting her. “Yes, but I’m not an artist. I came to the tattoo artistand told her what I wanted in a consultation. She found a photograph of a poppyand we agreed on it being a good design, and on size and placement, and thenshe tattooed it. But she did photorealism. Most artists have their ownparticular style. It can be more about the art style than the specific meaningor symbolism of the tattoo. Like collecting paintings from a painter you like—mostartists will only ever do the same tattoo once, to keep it unique.”
Zoe was frowning, looking up at the cornerof the ceiling as if picturing it. “Even those who do lettering or, how did youput it? Traditional styles?”
“Well, you’re not seeing the fullpicture. Even with traditional styles, you can make lots of variations on thesame style. Lettering is less unique, I suppose, but it depends
