Scarlet Guard (House of Scarlet #2)

Copyright 2017. No reproduction in whole or part is permitted without prior permission of the author.

Author's note: This story is 58,943 words long and is Book #2 of The House of Scarlet series. It deals with BDSM, domination, blood, fire, and martial arts.

One

Detective Steven Howell opened the door to the small tattoo parlor. As he entered the shop, a woman, barely more than a girl, briefly looked up before looking back down to continue on the tattoo she was doing for a beefy biker type. They were seated together in a small cubicle, him on a reclining chair, her on a wheeled stool with a small rolling tool chest nearby. Power cords, bottles, and several shiny hand sized machines were on the top of the tool chest. From the looks of it, the chest was where she kept the tools of her trade.

"Be with you in a minute." The girl called out to Howell as she concentrated on her color application to the nearly finished tattoo. The buzz of her tattoo gun resuming as she returned to work.

Howell wandered about the shop looking at the images on the walls. Flash was what the pictures were called. He remembered that from his visits to other similar shops over the years. Well, similar in the fact that they all were tattoo parlors. This one, however, was different. There were green plants in ceramic pots while the walls were painted in soft colors. A beige leather sofa created a small waiting area near the front window which, wonder of wonders, didn't have paint covering it up.

There was even a small half round table with a coffee urn on top. Nearby was a sign that said 'Help Yourself.' Styrofoam cups, a low crystal bowl of non-dairy creamers, and a box of plastic spoons were nearby. All in all, the shop was light and airy. Well lit with both artificial and natural light. It definitely didn't have that seedy feel that most tattoo parlors had. It was more like an artist's studio or gallery than the tattoo parlors he was familiar with. Neutral to attract both men and women but bordering on feminine. Very pleasant.

Howell poured himself a small cup of the coffee adding a single creamer to it before taking a seat on the leather couch to wait.

After some time, the buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped. Both the man and the girl walked to the rear of the shop. Howell heard a cash register beep. The two talked for a few more moments before the man left. The girl followed him to where Howell was seated on the sofa. Howell took in her appearance as she came near. Asian. Small boned. Thin but fit. A definite exercise buff. Her face was framed in a pixy haircut. She probably wore it that way to keep it out of the way when she was working. It did frame her face nicely. The short dark hair really set off her eyes and cheekbones. Eyes that were intense while seeming to miss very little of what was going on around her.

"Callie M." The girl introduced herself. "What can I do for you officer?"

Howell stood up from the couch offering his hand. "It's Detective. How did you know I was a cop?"

The girl, Callie M., shook his hand briefly before dropping it. "We see a lot of officials. Health inspectors, fire marshals, city inspectors, license bureau, uniformed police, undercover Narc's, we get a good exposure to official types who are here on business. You learn how they look real fast. Mostly they don't look like they are into this lifestyle. Too out of place. Uncomfortable. Too Vanilla."

"Vanilla?"

"It's an expression. It means plain or ordinary. Not kinky or living an alternative lifestyle."

"Oh. Well, I'm here because I'm working on a murder case. I'm hoping you might have information for me. The victim had a distinctive tattoo, at least I think it's distinctive, I'm trying to find someone who can identify the tattoo. Maybe that way we can get a name for the victim. Right now he's just a John Doe."

Howell handed the girl a close up picture of the tattoo he was talking about.

"Decent line work. Not great, but decent. Shading and color seem off some too. That may be an effect from the lighting though.

"Don't know the artist. Which isn't that unusual since almost anyone can get a tattoo anywhere in the world. Sorry."

"Well, it was worth a try. I'm going to go ask some other shops, but you were recommended for me to try first. Apparently you have a reputation as someone who is very good at tattooing."

Callie smiled but didn't comment. She knew her art. She was a specialist in lines and shading with gray. She did color work too, like on the guy who just left. However, her real talent was black and gray. There were very few in the area who could match her in design, ability, and execution. None who were better than she. She knew it. She could say it without arrogance, no one was better.

"Can I make a copy of this? I can ask around. I can also show it to the other artists here. Might get something. Probably won't though, so don't get your hopes up."

"There are other artists here? I thought you were the only one?"

"There are three of us. I'm covering the shop while they're at lunch today."

"Oh. Making a copy is fine if you want."

"Great." Callie walked to the back of the shop. In an alcove no bigger than a double closet, Howell saw a small color copier and other office equipment along with the cash register he'd heard earlier. Callie put the photo face down on the glass plate of the copier before pushing the button. Shortly after some machinery humming, the copier spit out a color copy of the photo.

"I'll show this around. Maybe I'll get lucky for you. Don't bet on it." Callie handed him the photo back.

"Well, if you come up with anything, please give me a call." Howell stuck the photo inside his jacket then pulled out a silver plated business card case from his shirt pocket opening it one handed. On one side was clipped a red card with gold numbers on it. That card was dog eared and worn. Pulling a card from the other side of the case he handed it to her.

"What's that?" She indicated the red card even as she put his card in her pocket.

"Why? Have you seen something like that before?"

"Well, it looks interesting. The red really catches your eye. Pretty. With only the numbers on it, you either know who it's from or you don't need to know. It's like a secret." A short laugh of apology. "Sorry. I'm into mysteries, reading them that is. That card looks like something from that sort of thing."

Howell handed the card to her. "It's from the same case. It was in the victim's wallet."

Callie ran her fingers over the embossed numbers. "Hmm, that's real gold leaf. Somebody has money if they can spend it on something like this."

"Why do you say that?"

"The card is a throwaway. It has no value other than the number on it. Otherwise it's really just wastebasket fodder. It takes some big money to make something with real gold on it for others to potentially just throw it away. I just had a bunch of cards printed for the shop here, so I pretty much know the current price for business cards. This is expensive. Top level expensive."

She looked up at him. "Did you call the number?"

Howell didn't know why, but he was intrigued with the tattoo artist who was obviously more than she appeared. Intrigued enough to give out information. Anything that would lead to solving this murder would be a help. He was almost at a dead end.

"Yeah. Someone answered but said nothing. I started to introduce myself. As soon as I did, whoever was on the other end disconnected. I tried calling back. The number came up as not in service."

"Weird."

"Yeah. I had it traced. Nothing. Number not assigned. Which is crazy since I know someone was on the other end of the line at that number."

Howell's frustration came through with that statement. Callie grinned at him. "Well, it wasn't me," she said as she handed back the red card.

Howell apologized. "Sorry."

Noise assaulted them as the front door opened. Two girls and a younger man walked into the shop. All three were wearing jeans and T-shirts.

"Ok, Callie, you can go to lunch now." One of the girls called out to them as she walked over to the first tattoo cubicle. The young man followed her to sit in the reclining chair.

The other girl came all the way to where they were standing. Short and thin, with medium length glossy straight black hair, she had a strong resemblance to Callie. She looked first at Callie, then Howell. A quizzical expression appeared on her face.

Callie rolled her eyes. "He's not a date. Stop trying to fix me up."

"Mama's going to be on your case for grandkids if you don't get it together." The girl scolded her. "This one looks nice. In a suit even. I like men in suits. Yummy."

"He's a cop. He's looking for help to solve a murder. Stop drooling over him."

Howell looked from one to the other as the byplay went on as if he wasn't there. "Excuse me, who are you?"

"T Rose. I'm her sister."

"Tea Rose?"

The girl grimaced. "Yeah. Mama, our mama, is an artist. She likes flowers. Paints them on canvas, wood, walls, you name it. She gets commissions for them. She likes flowers so much she named her kids after them. Tea Rose for me. Calla lily for her. T, just the letter, Rose for short for me. Callie for her." T Rose curled around him hooking her arm in his.

Callie rolled her eyes again before grabbing her sister pulling her away from Howell. "He's not interested. He's here on a case."

"So?"

"So, the only thing he's interested in right now is a tattoo. He has a picture of it. He came in hoping I'd seen it before. It's on a dead guy."

"A tattoo? On a dead body? Ewww."

"It's just a picture of the tattoo. Not the whole dead guy." Callie told her sister.

"Ok, let me see the picture." T Rose held out her hand after a moments thought.

Callie handed her the color copy. T Rose looked at the copy turning the paper clockwise in ninety degree intervals.

"I've seen this."

Howell was instantly alert. "You have?"

"Yeah. Let me think." T Rose stared at the paper without seeing the image there. "Someplace. Recently."

Snapping into a walk T Rose began to pace holding the photocopy in front of her. She was not seeing the image on the page. Instead, she was looking at images in her mind.. Callie pushed Howell out of the way placing her finger in front of her lips for silence.

After a few repetitions pacing the length of the shop, T Rose stopped pacing. She confronted Howell.

"It's on the wall of a shop down on second street. It's next to a club called 'The Pit'. It's a picture of someone who has the tattoo. Not flash. I don't know the person in the picture but the shop owner probably does."

"How do you know that?" Howell was suspicious. This was too easy.

T Rose shrugged. "I remember things. Lots of things."

"Photographic memory." Callie explained. "Especially when it comes to art."

"We all have it." T Rose smirked. We all get it from mama."

"We all?"

"Oh, we have 2 more sisters and a brother."

"Are you all tattoo artists?" Howell was still suspicious.

Both girls laughed. "Poppy is only eleven. Tulip is fourteen. They're too young to do anything except go to school. Henry is the oldest. He's a hair stylist."

"Wait. I thought you said your mother named you all after flowers. How did your brother get to be named Henry?"

"Dad put his foot down. He told mama while girls might be flowers in their mother's eyes; sons were not. Son's have to grow up to be men. Not flowers kept in the house or garden."

"Speaking of Henry, I have to go." Callie reminded her sister. "He's cutting my hair today. He also says he is going to doing something else as a surprise. He won't tell me what. If I don't get going I'm probably going to be late. Don't forget, I have my class this afternoon too. I probably won't be back."

Rose nodded that she remembered.

"I teach Karate." Callie said in an aside to Howell as he looked on. "I have a class two days per week at a friend's dojo. Mostly little old ladies who want to learn to defend themselves against purse snatchers."

"Ok. See you later then." T Rose talked right over her sister's explanation. She waved a languid good bye at Callie before hooking her arm through Howells elbow again.

"Why don't we see if we can find something you'd like for a tattoo? I'm sure we can find something you'd like to have on your body."

Callie tore her sister away from Howell. "You don't have time for that. You have to finish last months bookkeeping before it becomes this month's bookkeeping. Besides, the Detective probably needs to go talk to someone about his case." Callie pushed Howell behind her, waving at him to leave while she dealt with her sister.

"Spoilsport. You're the one who knows about that stuff. Not me."

Callie stuck her tongue out pointing to a closed door at the back of the shop. "You can thank mama for that later. Right now, you're the one who needs to learn it. So get learning!"

Howell left as the two girls were arguing. He was sitting in his car at the curb considering his next move when the girl, Callie, came out of the tattoo shop. She was buckling a helmet onto her head as she headed toward a pink Vespa parked in front of the tattoo studio. Inserting a key she started the scooter, checked traffic before quickly zooming off. Probably to her hair salon appointment, Howell thought to himself.

The picture she made as she zipped away on the scooter was cute. Tight. Rigid. Sitting on the scooter's saddle with perfect posture in her spine. Straight up vertical. She disappeared in the traffic as she motored down the street. Putting her out of his mind, Howell went back to thinking about what to do next.

Two

Henry chattered as he usually did while cutting Callie's hair. He liked to talk about all the things he saw, the people he met, while working at the day spa he owned. Situated in the center of the GreenWood mall he had a lot of foot traffic go past his door. Exclusive shops meant that the potential clientele were well heeled. Client's who, more likely than not, wanted and could afford a trip to a day spa to make themselves feel pretty.

Henry did all right for himself Callie thought for the millionth time. Hopefully her little shop would eventually turn out to be a good investment too.

"There's this woman whose hair is like liquid silver. I swear. It is." Henry stopped snipping. He placed his hand on his chest to show he wasn't pulling her leg as Callie looked at him in the mirror.

"Honest. Most platinum blondes are more in the pewter range. But, she's really silver. With natural waves and soft ringlets. She's really, really beautiful. She also works for the company that owns the mall."

"So? Are you trying to date her or something?"

"Oh no. She's married. She comes in weekly to the spa. I like her. Very nice. She's very sophisticated. She seems to be really happy all the time. Smiles and laughs a lot. Though I do think something bad happened to her recently. She didn't used to, but now she has two bodyguards who follow her everywhere. Even into the back. I think she got some serious death threats or something. They're super scary. Even you might have a problem with just one of them let alone both.

"They wanted to be in the room with her while she got a bikini waxing. I put my foot down about that. They might be in charge of guarding her body; that doesn't mean they get to ogle it. Strangely, she didn't seem to care if they saw her naked. I care though. I made them wait outside. I would have preferred that they wait in the lounge. They insisted, and she agreed, that they be in the hallway outside the door as the furthest distance away from her. Which tells me something really bad happened to her. I don't know what."

"She won't tell you?"

"I'm not going to ask. I told you, those guys are super scary."

"I bet. Being a body guard is probably really hard. Probably boring too. I don't know that I'd want to do that."

"I don't know that I'd want my little sister doing it either. From what I've seen, they have to be hard as nails. Mean. Really mean. Look at Miss Karen.. She lives in a bubble. No one gets within 10 feet of her. Even out there in the mall, people cringe to get out of the way.

"When she walks in, there's this empty space around her. Everyone gets quiet. No one even wants to look at her. The way the guards stare at you is really unnerving."

"Miss Karen?"

"Oh, she's the woman I was talking about. The one with the silver hair."

"You said she was married. How can she be married and still be a Miss?"

"I don't know. That's what everyone calls her. I mean everyone."

"Weird."

"There, all done." Henry finished working on her hair. He whisked off the apron covering her before Callie could ask any more questions.

"Oh." Callie was surprised. The dark blue color wash that Henry had almost forced on her made her highlights shine blue instead of reddish gold.

"I told you. It's perfect for you. Just like I said it would be. Different enough for you to be noticed but not so different that you look like you're making a statement of rebellion."

Callie laughed. "Mama would kill both of us."

Henry grinned companionably. "Yep. You can say thank you now."

"Oh, thank you big brother. Thank you, thank you, thank you." Callie's laughter didn't quite cover the rumble from her stomach.

"I heard that. Have you eaten? Today, I mean. Since breakfast?"

"Hey, it was my turn to watch the shop over lunch. This cop came in. I had to deal with him. He was asking questions about a dead guy with a tattoo. So, no I haven't had anything. No time."

"Well, you are going to eat now."

"I have a class."

"So? Eat now, teach later. It's easy. I'll even pay. Let's go to the food court to grab something. I need a break anyway."

They went arm in arm to the food court. Standing in line arguing about what to eat, they made their choices. Henry opened his wallet to grab a twenty. Callie caught a flash of red.

"Henry? What is that?" Callie snatched the card from her brother's wallet. A red card with only a number embossed in gold on it. Turning to show to him she lowered her voice to almost a quiet hiss. "Do you know what this is? Where did you get it? Who gave this to you?"

"Whoa. Easy. I thought this was lunch not the inquisition." Henry finished paying for the food. Lifting the tray, he held it between them as Callie advanced on him.

"If you want to beat me up then you'll have to buy your own food from now on. Give me that back."

Henry held the tray one-handed swiping with the other to try to retrieve the card. Callie twitched it away before he could grab it.

"I want to know."

"Why?" Henry gave up trying to get the card while holding the tray. He walked to a nearby table putting the tray down before he sat. "It's just a card."

"It's not just a card. The cop who came to my shop today had one just like it." Callie sat down opposite her brother.

"It's just a card. A red one. Maybe the one you say that the cop had just looks like this one."

Callie narrowed her eyes at him giving him a look. She silently pointed from herself to him and back again.

"Ok, Ok. Sorry. It was the same. I believe you. Now give it back."

Callie handed the card over. She watched as Henry put it back in his wallet.

"I want to know. Where did you get it? Who gave it to you?"

"No one 'gave' it to me. I found it in the shop."

"'Found it'?"

"I had a customer. Before she came in, it wasn't there. After she left it was. I don't know that she left it. Anyone could have. It was just there on my counter where I keep my scissors. Anything else you want to know that I can't tell you?"

Callie knew her brother wouldn't say anything more. Once he got that crabby look on his face, no one was getting anything out of him. Giving up for now about who gave him the card, she grabbed her burrito off of the tray.