The womansoon emerged from the back room, sat on a large pillow opposite them. She wasso light that she barely made an impression on the pillow. It was as if shefloated above it. 'The tea will be ready shortly.'

    'Thanks,'Byrne said.

    'First,if you don't mind, can you tell me what you do here?' Jessica asked.

    'Thisis a Mehndi parlor.'

    'Couldyou spell that for me?' Jessica asked.

    Dalajadid, giving her a few alternate spellings. Jessica wrote it all down. 'I'm not sureI know what that means.'

    'Mehndiis a type of skin decoration practiced throughout South Asia, Southeast Asia,North Africa, the Horn of Africa.'

    'Theseare temporary tattoos?'

    'Technicallyno. Tattoos, by definition, are permanent, applied under the skin. Mehndi istemporary, and rests atop the skin.'

    'Whatis it made out of?'

    'Mehndiis applied with henna. It is mostly drawn on the palms of the hands and thefeet, where the levels of keratin in the skin are highest.'

    'Andhow long does it last?'

    'Anywherefrom a few days to a few months, depending on the henna paste and where thedecoration is placed on the body.'

    Ayoung Indian woman came out of the back with a cup of tea on an ornate blacklacquered tray. She was about nineteen, and wore traditional South Asianclothing. She was stunningly beautiful. Jessica went back to her notes, but,after a few seconds, noticed that the girl was still standing in front of them.Jesssica glanced at Byrne. He was looking at the girl with his mouth open, notmoving, not speaking. She was that beautiful.

    'Kevin.'

    'Right,'he said finally, closing his mouth and taking the cup and saucer. 'Thank you.'

    Thegirl smiled and, without a word, withdrew to the back room.

    Whenshe was gone, their hostess reached onto a nearby table and picked up abeautifully bound leather notebook. She handed the book to Jessica, who riffledthe pages. The designs were intricate and skillfully drawn. Page after page ofcomplex artwork in a rainbow of colors, drawn mostly on hands and feet.

    'I'mafraid what we're inquiring about is a little different,' Jessica said. 'Alittle less . . . ornate.'

    'Isee.'

    Jessicathen caught the aroma of the tea - ginger and honey - and wished she had takenthe woman up on her offer.

    'MayI show you a photograph?' Jessica asked.

    'Byall means.'

    Jessicapulled out her iPhone, enlarged the photograph of the lion tattoo on KennethBeckman's finger.

    'Oh,I see,' the woman said. 'This is different.'

    'Doyou know what it is?'

    Dalajanodded. 'This is very small, is it not?'

    'Yes,'Jessica said. 'Maybe one inch long.'

    'Itappears to be a style of temporary body art called a transfer. Relativelyinexpensive. And the quality, well...'

    Itwas true. By comparison with the photographs in the leather-bound notebook thelion tattoo looked like it had been drawn with a crayon.

    'Itake it you do not offer this service or sell items like this,' Jessica said.

    'Wedo not. But I believe I can point you in the right direction.'

    'Thatwould be great.'

    'Ifyou will excuse me for a moment.'

    Thewoman rose, seemingly without effort. She stepped into the back room. Shereturned a few minutes later with pages from a color printer.

    'Ibelieve this is what you are looking for.'

    Shehanded a page to Jessica. On it was an exact replica of the lion transfertattoo.

    'Wow,'Jessica said. 'That's it.'

    Dalajahanded her a second sheet. 'At the top is the website from which I downloadedthe image. There are ten others here on the page, but the first company, calledWorld Ink, is the largest. I did not find that exact image on any of theothers, but that is not to say it is not sold elsewhere.'

    Jessicaand Byrne got to their feet.

    'Thechai was delicious,' Byrne said. 'Thanks very much.'

    'Youare most welcome,' the woman replied. 'Is there anything else I can do foryou?'

    'Ibelieve that is it for now,' Jessica said.

    'Then,for now, alvida.' She spun on her heels and walked toward the back roomwithout making a sound.

    Backat the Roundhouse, Jessica got on the Internet and visited World Ink. Inaddition to transfer tattoos, the company sold a lot of specialty items, suchas pocket calendars, paint sheets, and customized scratch-and-win cards.

    Butit was the stock tattoos in which Jessica was interested. And they hadhundreds, maybe thousands of designs. Angels, cars, flags, flowers, sports, holiday-themed,myth and fairy-tale, as well as religious and tribal symbols.

    Sixpages deep into the online catalog she found the lion design. It was in acollection called TinyToos, and was a perfect match. She took out hercellphone, clicked over to the photograph of Kenneth Beckman's body. Therecould be no doubt. Unless the victim had put this tattoo on himself - andJessica had a problem seeing Beckman doing this, it seemed inconsistent withhis personality - someone had done it for him. Quite possibly the person who'dstrangled and mutilated him.

    Byrnealready had three calls in to Sharon Beckman to ask if her husband had a tattooon his finger.

    Jessicagot on the phone to World Ink, and after a few minutes of press one, pressfive, press two, she pressed 0 until a human being picked up thephone. She identified herself and in short order was passed over to thewebsite-catalog sales manager.

    Jessicaexplained the bare minimum. After a little hemming and hawing, the man told herthat they would be happy to help, but he was going to have to get clearance andthey would need some kind of request on paper. Jessica asked the man if a faxon a PPD letterhead would suffice, and he said it would. Jessica scratched afew more notes, hung up the phone. She caught Byrne's attention, gave him thehighlights. She held up the photo of the lion tattoo.

    'Thisdesign is exclusive to this company,' she said. 'It's an original design.That's not to say that our guy bought it from them, or didn't duplicate ithimself - the guy at World Ink said it was fairly easy to do with a scanner,PhotoShop, and the right supplies - but considering the way these tattoos areapplied, I think it's a safe bet that Kenneth Beckman did not apply the tattoohimself. Even if it has nothing to do with the case, we can be pretty suresomeone did it for him.'

    'Like,for instance, our bad boy.'

    'Couldbe. Now, if it was him, he might have placed an order online with thiscompany. I'm going to fax them a request for a customer list, people whopurchased this tattoo.'

    'Doyou think we'll need the DAs office on this?' Byrne asked.

    'Maybe.'

    'Letme call Mike Drummond and give him a heads-up.'

    WhileByrne made the call, Jessica printed off the tattoo of the lion. She heardlaughter coming down the hall. She looked up to see Nicci Malone - alove-struck, schoolgirl-in-distress Nicci Malone - enter the duty room withDetective Russell Diaz.

    RussellDiaz was the head of a newly formed tactical squad, part of the PPD's SpecialInvestigations Unit, a job originally offered to Kevin Byrne, who had turned itdown. The tactical unit was a sort of rapid-response team for high-profilecases involving special circumstances. Diaz had spent ten years with the FBI'sPhiladelphia field office, but had been traveling too much, he said, and joinedthe PPD to stay closer to his family. While in the FBI he had worked withBehavioral Science and had consulted with the homicide unit a number of timesin the past few years.

    Beyondthat, Russell Diaz was a specimen. About six feet tall, cut from stone,close-cropped brunette hair, dreamy eyes. He was given to wearing those tightnavy blue PPD T-shirts that showed off his biceps. Oddly enough, he seemed notto notice his impact on members of both the same and opposite sexes, along witheverything in between. This made him even more appealing.