asked.
Thulu and I filled her in on the six victims that we knew about: Jane, Robin, Jenna, Blake, an elderly Korean man, Seung Kang, and the Hispanic girl, Emily Rodriguez.
Emily had been Jones's first murder victim when he was only fourteen years old. She had been one of the countless runaways, living on the street and supporting herself any way she could, usually with prostitution. Jones had been part of a gang of boys who had raped and beaten her in an alley. The others ran off when they thought they heard someone. Jones remained behind with a knife to Emily's throat.
Emily remembered the knife cutting into her skin and “waking up dead.” She wanted her body found and someone to care that she had been dead for over twenty years.
Mr. Kang had been killed by Jones about a year ago. He had a small gallery that specialized in Oriental art and objects. He'd refused to sell an ancient relic to Jones, explaining that the piece was on loan. Kang wanted the relic found and returned to the rightful owners.
My notes didn't show who the owners might be, but they did show that there was probably more to Kang's story. He had hesitated at several points. My note said, “Missing relic - more info? Trying to remember or trying to decide how much to say?”
Okay, so we had six victims, only one of whom appeared to be from Jones's early years. The rest were from the last year or so. I was sure there were other victims in between. Had they gone on? Or had they just not found me and Thulu? We decided to get more inside info.
I called Blake Dodd, and he appeared before us.
“Blake, what was the joke you made?”
“I just said he had gone soft in his 'old age.'”
Yeah, real funny. “And?”
“He said, 'Oh, really? How's this for soft?' Then he shot me. I was just joking around, you know? I mean I had done good work for him for several years. I thought it was okay to joke around. And I was a bit nervous from what happened earlier.”
“What was that?” This was like pulling teeth. My smile was very strained. “Blake, I need you to focus and tell us everything in the order it happened.”
He thought for a bit. We gave him time. I made notes as he talked, and Nana and Thulu read them over my shoulder.
He had been working for Jones for a couple of years. He'd started out in collections on the “protection” side of the business. Unlike some of the other guys, who bullied, he operated on the theory that there was no need to be mean, unless his “client” didn't cooperate.
Blake had inherited one of Jones's older neighborhoods, so most of the “clients” knew the program and didn't make too many waves. They paid their “fees” and kept their mouths shut. In return, Blake never helped himself to goods or services from his clients without paying for them.
“I also tipped very well.” He said this as if it made him one of the good guys. I nodded and pretended it did, but I was wondering what had happened to this guy. He could have had a good, crime-free, normal life. I made a note to ask him sometime.
“So your 'clients' liked you?”
He agreed that he thought they had. In comparison to some of the others, I'm sure he was an absolute doll.
Jones called him in after about six months to increase his area of responsibility. This happened every so often until Blake was overseeing the entire “collections department.” He had actually cut down on the number of violent crimes associated with his department. Blake considered himself a businessman and used violence only as a last resort. He said he didn't like violence. What he did like were the financial perks he got from his job. Jones paid very well. He settled into his position and stayed there for several years.
“One day, about a year ago, Jones asked me to tell him everything about one of my clients, Mr. Seung Kang. I told him Kang was a nice old Korean man who had a little shop and sold Asian collectibles. Not the usual touristy crap; he had
Thulu and I filled her in on the six victims that we knew about: Jane, Robin, Jenna, Blake, an elderly Korean man, Seung Kang, and the Hispanic girl, Emily Rodriguez.
Emily had been Jones's first murder victim when he was only fourteen years old. She had been one of the countless runaways, living on the street and supporting herself any way she could, usually with prostitution. Jones had been part of a gang of boys who had raped and beaten her in an alley. The others ran off when they thought they heard someone. Jones remained behind with a knife to Emily's throat.
Emily remembered the knife cutting into her skin and “waking up dead.” She wanted her body found and someone to care that she had been dead for over twenty years.
Mr. Kang had been killed by Jones about a year ago. He had a small gallery that specialized in Oriental art and objects. He'd refused to sell an ancient relic to Jones, explaining that the piece was on loan. Kang wanted the relic found and returned to the rightful owners.
My notes didn't show who the owners might be, but they did show that there was probably more to Kang's story. He had hesitated at several points. My note said, “Missing relic - more info? Trying to remember or trying to decide how much to say?”
Okay, so we had six victims, only one of whom appeared to be from Jones's early years. The rest were from the last year or so. I was sure there were other victims in between. Had they gone on? Or had they just not found me and Thulu? We decided to get more inside info.
I called Blake Dodd, and he appeared before us.
“Blake, what was the joke you made?”
“I just said he had gone soft in his 'old age.'”
Yeah, real funny. “And?”
“He said, 'Oh, really? How's this for soft?' Then he shot me. I was just joking around, you know? I mean I had done good work for him for several years. I thought it was okay to joke around. And I was a bit nervous from what happened earlier.”
“What was that?” This was like pulling teeth. My smile was very strained. “Blake, I need you to focus and tell us everything in the order it happened.”
He thought for a bit. We gave him time. I made notes as he talked, and Nana and Thulu read them over my shoulder.
He had been working for Jones for a couple of years. He'd started out in collections on the “protection” side of the business. Unlike some of the other guys, who bullied, he operated on the theory that there was no need to be mean, unless his “client” didn't cooperate.
Blake had inherited one of Jones's older neighborhoods, so most of the “clients” knew the program and didn't make too many waves. They paid their “fees” and kept their mouths shut. In return, Blake never helped himself to goods or services from his clients without paying for them.
“I also tipped very well.” He said this as if it made him one of the good guys. I nodded and pretended it did, but I was wondering what had happened to this guy. He could have had a good, crime-free, normal life. I made a note to ask him sometime.
“So your 'clients' liked you?”
He agreed that he thought they had. In comparison to some of the others, I'm sure he was an absolute doll.
Jones called him in after about six months to increase his area of responsibility. This happened every so often until Blake was overseeing the entire “collections department.” He had actually cut down on the number of violent crimes associated with his department. Blake considered himself a businessman and used violence only as a last resort. He said he didn't like violence. What he did like were the financial perks he got from his job. Jones paid very well. He settled into his position and stayed there for several years.
“One day, about a year ago, Jones asked me to tell him everything about one of my clients, Mr. Seung Kang. I told him Kang was a nice old Korean man who had a little shop and sold Asian collectibles. Not the usual touristy crap; he had
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