Simona Davis

4: The Footage 📹

The polluted grounds outside Joe's Parlor had been cleaned and returned  to a normal dusty pathway despite the dark stain left behind by Steve's blood. Steve had already been zipped into a black bag. Dead Steve was being cycled into the ambulance when Isack Joe parked his motorcycle outside his parlor.

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Most of the investigators had left with dead Steve leaving two of their officers behind; Detective Jones and Connor Nick. Harold was still with them,munching on Donuts and sipping coffee. The clean up team brought the investigators refreshments- much to his fascination.

Harold brought Jones and Connor up to date about the neighborhood and Isack Joe; stating that his father had built the parlor from the ground. Harold built the petrol station two years after Joe built his empire; what he liked to call it.

There weren't many customers at first but many prevailed as time passed and the presence of the petrol station and bars that opened had customers for Joe. It was never clear why Joe opened the parlor in a remote area in stead of in the city but he did.

He had the business going on for sixty years and passed away. His son, Isack, developed an interest in ink art when he was sixteen,so he naturally took over. Joe had nothing else but the parlor and left his son with it in his will. People look at Isack sometimes and think he is the resurrected Joe for the resemblance was copy and paste.

His dad was a taciturn individual. He had brooding eyes and a blessed imagination. Every one of his clients would swoon after he was done tattooing them. He knew exactly what the recipient needed on their skin. He paid a lot of attention to the customers' aura and taste. He was gifted. All these traits have been passed on to his son.

Isack turns off his bike with the turn of his key. He gets off his motorcycle and shrugs his jacket. A tattoo of an orange tiger appears on his hand when he wipes sand off his seat and some parts of the bike.

His boots crunch on the ground as he approaches his callers. He eyes the officers and Harold watching him eagerly. What would two officers want with me, a tattoo? He smells a pungent smell of rotting iron- blood and spots the dark patch just outside his window.He scrunches his nose as he pulls a fag from his jacket pocket. He lights it immediately and sucks in the smoke. Better.

"What's up with the officers,Harold?" Isack steps in front of Jones and Connor and eyes them while he drags on his fag again. Maybe he wasn't that taciturn but his eyes still were the same as his father's.

"Calm down Isack. There was a murder right here in front of your parlor last night."

Isack's eyes widen." What?"

"Steve was killed. Detective Jones and his partner, Connor just wanna have a talk with you." Harold replies finishing off his coffee. Isack's eyes widen with realisation. Ah, so that's what happened. No wonder these officers are here. Steve finally got his medicine, right? Good riddance.
Jones asks." You know him?"

"Yes I do. He's the old drunk." He grunts.
Jones watches him." Can we ask you some questions about him? In your parlor?"

"Sure." Isack puffs out smoke.He drops his fag and puts it out with his boot.He steps between them and unlocks his door and steps in first.

His workspace was cramped but alternative in every sense. His father had less in the parlor when he was alive. Now there were different ornaments, pictures and paintings that were organised in a random order. On one of the walls,is a picture of a middle aged man with brooding eyes and thin lips -- his father. You could think it was Isack but the difference is shown in his father's wrinkles and a tattoo of small ship on his right cheek.