The Twelve Percent

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On an essentially empty shopping strip about a mile past the Gazette, was Paulie’s Tattoo Parlor. One of only three stores on the strip of fourteen possible shops, it had the look of your normal tattoo place. Neon signs and black paint. I wasn’t really sure what my plan was; other than waiting around to see if anyone that came out of the parlor happened to scream ‘Murderer’ to me. Feeling like a cop on a stakeout, I was parked rows away from the strip, and in front of the nail salon three doors down from the parlor. I had water bottles and snacks and mix CD’s. And I was bored.

I had pulled up a list of local tattoo places and read them off to Natalie until she gave some sign of recognition. And that led me here, to Paulie’s Tattoo Parlor. Also in my stakeout bag was a folder with articles of murders similar to Natalie’s printed off. Two more were from Teratone and seven were from surrounding cities. Of the nine, four had visibly new tattoos. A couple still wrapped in plastic. One of them was one of the Teratone murder victims, and upon hacki-researching, I was able to find that she had submitted an online inquiry to Paulie’s a week before her murder in regards to her tattoo pricing.

And that led me here. Sitting in my car in a mostly empty parking lot at eleven in the dark. The only ones who had exited had entered. Customers. No one more suspicious than the one before them. I was batting zero. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I was just hoping someone would walk out covered in Natalie’s blood and shout that they’d killed ten women. No such luck, obviously.

Knowing Plan A was a complete bullshit move; I started the car and moved up to one of Paulie’s customer parking spots. Grabbing my purse, I jumped out and headed inside. I’d worn my boot cut jeans and a decent shirt, so as soon as I opened the jingling door, everyone was eyeing me strangely. The man behind the counter took his feet down, and leaned forward on his elbows.

“You don’t look like the normal lass we get in here. Guessin’ you ain’t here for a tattoo?”

“Not exactly.” I pulled out my mock FBI badge I’d made at a Kinko’s in Chicago two years ago and held it up. The man made a sound recognizing he was right, and then just sat there. Waiting for me to speak again. He was obviously going to make this incredibly difficult for both of us. I opened the folder and pulled out the pictures of Natalie and the other two girls from Teratone and laid them in front of him. “You recognize these girls?”

“Can’t say that I do.” He licked one of his teeth and then put his feet back on the counter.

I smiled, albeit sarcastically. “I’ll ask again.” I pulled out photos of Natalie’s crime scene. “Do you, or do you not, recognize these girls?” I spread the gruesome photos in front of him.

He flinched so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. “Get those out of here!” He turned away. I smiled, genuine this time, and slid the photos back into my folder. “Yes, alright? They look a little familiar. This one,” he tapped Natalie’s photo. “came in not long ago and got a tattoo on her wrist. The others look familiar but they also look like her and every other fresh eighteen year old that comes in here.”

“You don’t exactly ID though, do you?”

His eyes grew wide. “We do, ma’am. We do!”

“You don’t, though. I’m not here to bust you for that. Though I would start to ID more if I were you. I’m here because all three of these girls were murdered. And all three got tattooed here not long before they were killed.”

“Blimey, lady. I didn’t kill them.”

“I didn’t say that you did. I just need a list of your most frequent clients and your past and present employee records.” He stared at me, then started to open his mouth like he was going to protest. I leaned forward and shoved his feet off the counter. “Get me those lists now or I will shut you down for tattooing underage girls.”

“Alright, alright. Jesus.”

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“Luckily he didn’t ask for a warrant for these records. Guy was a total idiot.” I smiled at Natalie and started reading off names, waiting for her to recognize one. Other than fellow senior students and the guy who did her tattoo, she didn’t. She looked at me as though she had failed some test. “Nat, you said you didn’t know your murderer. I didn’t expect you to be able to essentially pull his name out of a hat.” She nodded sadly. “I’m just going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

I spent the next two hours trying to cross reference the victims and any names from the list. And to no avail. I buried my head in my arms and fought the urge to scream.

“I just really need to be pro hacker or FBI agent.” Natalie smiled at me and mimed typing and the pointed at me and did a thumbs up. “I know. I can hack into minor things but I can’t hack to the level I’d need to if I was going to be a proper solo psychic investigator.” I sighed. “Besides. Maybe the tattoo connection is just a fluke. I really hate to say this because it sounds fucked up, but this would be a lot easier if one of the other victims was here.”

As much as a ghost could light up, Natalie did. Then she disappeared.

“Great. Now I don’t even have my one ghost.”

I was shoving a grilled cheese into my mouth when Natalie returned. And she wasn’t alone. “Sabrina Tracy!” I shouted through a mouthful of sandwich. Sabrina grimaced.

“You can see me?”

The sandwich fell from my mouth, because, despite her snarky attitude, she was still talking. “Yes.” I covered quickly, picking up the bite from the floor and tossing it in the trash. I set my sandwich down. “It’s a long story. But yeah; I can see ghosts.”

“I guess that’s cool. Anyways, what do you want?”

I quickly rushed over to the kitchen table, swerving to avoid the opaque beings in my kitchen, and spread out the photos of the ten murder victims. “I think you and Natalie and these other eight girls, possibly more, were all killed by the same person. A serial killer, I’d venture to say.”

“Genius. Just. Genius.”

I narrowed my eyes at Sabrina, now annoyed by her tone and infliction. “Anyways; you were murdered the same way Nat was, and the same way these other eight were. Plus you also got a tattoo right before you died at the same place Nat and this other girl did. I’m not sure if they’re connected, but can I ask you a couple of questions?”

“Why? So we can thank you, oh so powerful one?” Sabrina raised a dark eyebrow and smiled.

“Okay, listen here you invisible wall walking bitch, I’m trying to help solve your murders so no one else dies. So if you’re not interested in helping me figure this the fuck out, then you can get the fuck out.”

Natalie looked at me with begging eyes as I shouted at Sabrina.

“I am doing the best I fucking can with what little information I have. I didn’t ask to be able to see you guys. I didn’t ask for ghosts to constantly need my help. Hell; Natalie didn’t even as for help. I decided to help so no one else got fucking murdered. And now here you are, a bitchy dead girl, standing in my kitchen, being a coldhearted bitch to the one person who can hear you, see you, and help you. I don’t ask for thanks. I don’t ask for lottery numbers. I don’t ask for fucking anything; except for information to help me help you. So quit being a bitch and either get out or help.”

Sabrina looked as though she actually might vanish. After years of silence; “Fine. I’ll help.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

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