Relics (6 page)

I thanked him and let Thulu know he would be staying. Parker was always so polite and thoughtful that I didn't mind his company as I might have with some of the others. Parker didn't exactly “live” with us, but we felt comfortable with him there. He would wander in, and we would spend a few hours just chatting.

Parker had been a gamer before he died, and he would share his experiences, knowing we'd follow easily. Or he might watch as Thulu and I played and call out advice on occasion. He had been one of those super brilliant players - intuitive to a degree only another gamer could appreciate.

I wondered again what had happened to him, but since Parker himself seemed in no hurry to remember, I never pushed it. I'm sure there was a degree of selfishness on my part, too. I enjoyed his company, simple as that.

Parker and Jenna moved through the French doors that connected the study to the family room. Parker turned on the TV. He could manipulate channels, sound and the volume, yet he couldn't impact the physical world, except in very rare cases. He thought his abilities had something to do with electrical currents and such.

My mind turned back to the pieces of the Tyler case. I needed to organize the details, but for the moment, I let them bounce around inside my head. It was how I thought things through. I knew that they'd start to fall into place, but I needed to just let things simmer.

I was thinking about Jane's locket when I remembered that I also needed to start thinking about Thulu's anniversary present. The day we met was so important to us both that we'd gotten married on the same day. I had yet to find something special for him this year. I pulled out my phone from my pocket, made a note on my calendar and
promptly forgot about it. I still had a month to get clever and inventive, but I liked to spend time to find exactly the right gift. I got my electronic tablet out to make notes.
I sorted through all of our new clients and put them in some semblance of order.

After that, I just sat and watched out the window. The sun was still high, but starting its afternoon descent into the sea.

Thulu interrupted my reverie and called me over to show what he'd found about the Masons. I glanced through the open doors into the family room, where Parker and Jenna were still watching TV. I pulled my chair closer to Thulu's to read his monitor.

There were actually a few news articles. The Masons were from Chicago. Matt Mason was an architect and one of two partners in a small firm. His partner was Paul Adams, and they had won a large bid four months before. There were a couple of short status blurbs on the project's progress. The bid was to build a new office building for the Grant Corp, an important local company.

Clicking the link in the article to Mason's website brought up nothing but a broken link.

An obituary from two months prior said that Paul Adams, Mason's partner, was killed in a hit-and-run traffic accident. There were few details and scanning the crime reports added little information, other than the name of the widow, Alicia.

A short article, dated a week later, mentioned that another firm would be taking over the Grant project. It also said that the Mason family would be relocating to Boston. With only dry facts to go on, I assumed that the loss of Adams was the reason for the change.

A quick visit to the Grant website showed us that they were large and definitely had money. It was big enough that we knew we'd get little or no information from them. Companies in that league usually kept everything protected in-house, so we didn't waste time on them. Besides, we had other ways to access information there, if it seemed we needed it.

The Adams number was listed, and his widow was our first call. We left a message on her voice mail, then looked for Masons in the area that might be connected. We came up with a sizable list and split them up and began to surf the net.

Thulu was the first to hit pay dirt. He found Matt and Carolyn on one of the social sites that people use to stay in touch. Matt used a medium level of privacy, so it was easy to see his posts. A Susan Mason posted on Mark's page.

Some of the pics on the site showed Susan, a pretty young woman who looked to be about twenty, with Matt and his family. Matt and Carolyn were in their mid-twenties. Carolyn and Jenna shared the same blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Matt was stocky, with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. There were enough pictures that it was obvious the family was close.

Using one of our anonymous accounts, Thulu sent a message to Susan. He explained that we were old friends of Matt and Carolyn and were supposed to hook up with them a few days ago, but that they didn't show and phone calls went to voice mail.

Susan must have been online because we got an immediate answer.

“
Hi, I'm Matt's sister. He moved his family to Boston
,” she typed to us.

“
Hey, Susan. We were a bit worried when they missed our dinner date.
”

“
They probably forgot. Matt's partner was killed in an accident and it hit Matt pretty hard. They moved to Boston. They aren't even answering me, except for little blurbs on here. I guess they're busy.
”

“She has no idea anything is wrong.” Thulu frowned as I shook my head.

We messaged back a thank you. No sense upsetting her until we had all the details. Little Jenna's death alone was going to be super hard, if the pictures were anything to go by. Besides we had no proof, no bodies and little information. Telling strangers that I could talk to ghosts was hardly the way to get people to believe me. It rarely worked without extensive convincing, and we didn't feel we needed to spend time on that.

We scanned through Matt's posts. There was a definite change from two months before. He went from posting silly jokes and family pictures to posting short notes.
“Tired from move, more later,”
and
“Busy unpacking,”
were just two examples. And there were no new pictures whatsoever. In fact, after several posts a day and a new picture almost every day, Matt had not posted one picture in the last two months. About two weeks before, the posts became just a note every few days.

The pattern seemed to rule out Witness Protection, since that kind of posting would have been forbidden.

Okay, so the Masons had gone into hiding, but they were still trying to keep up appearances for family. That explained the less-than-professional way they had covered their tracks, but not much else.

“Has anything come to you, yet?” I asked Thulu.

He shook his head, glancing at me before returning his attention to his monitor. “Nothing. It's odd too, almost a blank.”

It was at that precise moment that my phone sang my most recent ringtone to me. I didn’t recognize the number as I answered it.

“Ah, La Fi, is it?” The voice was deep velvet. A voice one could listen to for hours, but one I didn't recognize.

“Yes, this is La Fi.”

“Excellent!  I believe you will be looking for me soon and thought to invite you and Thulu over, sooner rather than later. This is Tyler Jones, by the way.”

The blood drained from my face; I felt it go. Thulu saw and shot over to my side. We listened in together.

“Oh good, Thulu, glad you are there, too.”

How the hell did he know that?  I went on the offensive, looking around uneasily. “What the hell is your game, Jones?”

“Shall we chat about that?  Say tomorrow afternoon?  My place?  I assure you, you will be perfectly safe.”

“Why?” Thulu's voice was firm.

Jones laughed softly. “Why will you be safe or why do I want to chat?”

“Both,” Thulu answered.

Thulu and I exchanged looks of disbelief. I shrugged questioningly at him. He shook his head.

“Because I have been expecting the two of you to find me out for some time now, so I am rather interested in meeting you in person. And you are safe because, quite frankly, we have business to discuss.”

“We don't have any business with you, except to nail your ass.” I was adamant about that.

His response came back gentle as a breeze. “Oh, but my dear La Fi, I think we do. Besides, I have answers to questions that you recently started investigating.”

I didn't like being his dear anything, no matter how tempting meeting with him was. And even though it was
very
tempting, I could feel a trickle of cold sweat trace along my forehead, under my bangs. “Fine,” I said, “but not at your place. We prefer someplace a bit more public, thank you very much.”

Again with the low laugh that was charm itself. That laugh wasn't fair. It said, “I'm a nice person, warm, friendly, loving.” It should not belong to this killer. My senses were upside down as we arranged a mid-afternoon meeting at the wharf the next day.

“I look forward to seeing you both.” The line went dead as I sat staring at the phone, returning it to my desk.

I must have jumped a mile when it sang to me again.

“What are you doing?  Are you okay?  And why are you so upset?” Nana Fae's voice was full of concern.

“I think we may need your help, Nana.” Thulu had answered the phone. He looked at me, and I nodded.

“Okay, on my way. Want me to pick up takeout and you can fill me in over dinner?” I nodded again.

“Sounds good, Nana.” Thulu ended the call and set the phone down. I glared at it suspiciously, waiting for it to do something else, but it sat there innocently. I didn't buy its act, though.

I glanced over at Parker, who had floated in. I looked meaningfully at Jenna and he got the hint right away.

“Hey, Jenna, let's go to the wharf and look around some more, okay?”

She looked at me. “I can go?”

Her question caught me by surprise. The harm had already been done to her, but from her perspective, she probably still wanted adult guidance. I summoned a smile and nodded. “Of course, Jenna. Have fun.” Although I wondered what fun two dead kids could have as they drifted through the window.

Nana Fae arrived about thirty minutes later with Italian takeout, and we set up in the kitchen. I brought my tablet in, so I could look at my notes, as well as add to them.

Nana had aged very well, in spite of raising me. At almost seventy, she was completely blonde. Her green eyes still sparkled and there were a few more lines around them. She was in great shape, though. All three of the Nanas worked out through Tai Chi and other exercises several times a week.  I thought she looked a bit tired, but she brushed it off when I 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 nice stuff. Good art. Jones wanted to know how I got along with Kang, and I told him I treat all my clients with respect.”

Yeah, I thought, a dose of respect makes the extortion so much nicer. I stopped myself from shaking my head. I gave Blake a weary smile.

“Mr. Kang had some old Chinese relic that Jones wanted. He gave me a picture of a wood panel to show Kang and sent me off to buy it. When I got there, Kang was nice, but said he couldn’t sell it. Something about how it wasn't his and he was doing restoration on it. He wanted to know how Jones knew of the relic's existence, but hell, I didn't know.

“So off I go back to Mr. Jones – empty-handed and a bit worried about that, you know?  I told him what Kang said and damned if Jones wasn't nice and quiet and said he'd simply get another piece for his collection. I was pretty surprised and relieved, too. So I laughed and said he was getting soft in his old age. Just a joke because he's a young guy still. Well, I guess he showed me.” His expression was wistful.

“Did you ever see Jones's collection?”

He shook his head.

“Did you ever hear anyone talk about it? Or say what was in it?”

“The only thing I heard was when one of the guys said it was a bunch of really old stuff. None of the guys were interested, really.” He paused a moment. “But we wouldn't be, would we?  Unless Mr. Jones invited us?  I don't think that guy really saw it, though. Just showing off is more like it.”

I nodded in understanding. “Thanks, Blake, this helps a lot. If you can think of anything else, please let me know.”

He said that he would and then disappeared.

“So, Jones had wanted an Oriental panel from Kang and some sort of treasure from the Orient from Jane. Maybe that treasure isn't as imaginary as Jane thought,” Nana pointed out. The three of us sat for a moment before Nana got up.

“Okay, I'm off for the night. Fi, please email me your notes, and I'll go over them before tomorrow.” Nana was very tech savvy.

“You'll go with us?” I asked.

Nana smiled, “Oh, I think this is going to be very interesting. Besides, maybe I can pick up something to add to what we have.”

She gave us each a kiss on the cheek, and we watched from the front porch while she drove off in her convertible. The top was up for the night.

As we turned to go back into the house, Parker and Jenna floated up the walk.

“Is it okay if we stay here for the night, La Fi?” Parker had stayed over often the last four months. I didn't mind. It was almost like having a younger brother hang out.

“Sure.” I smiled warmly as we all went into the house. Thulu locked the door behind us and reset the alarm.

I had a thought. “Hey, Jenna, did your folks have any artwork like this?” I pointed to a sculpted piece on one of the hall side tables. We hadn't seen anything in the apartment, but maybe they had some in their Chicago home. Jenna shrugged, clearly uninterested.

“Or a painting?” I pointed to the one above the table.

“Yes.”

“Awesome, do you remember what it was?”

“It was Mommy, Daddy, me and a puppy. Mommy put it on the 'frigerator. I put the puppy in so I could get one.”

Parker snorted.

“Great. Thanks, Jen.” I resisted the urge to pat her head.

She gave me that big sunny smile, quite pleased with herself. “You're welcome.” She hugged her monkey to her chest.

I decided to drop it for now. Thulu had followed most of this and was taking the high road back to the kitchen. I'm sure he was biting his lip.

Jenna was still just a bit off from solid. It's intriguing how some of the dead are more solid than others. I hadn't figured out what specifically caused that. Every time I came up with a theory, I saw someone who blew it out of the water.

I almost felt I could pick Jenna up; she seemed that solid. I actually couldn't remember anyone who had been more
there
than she was and only a very few who came close. Parker was one, though.

Thulu met me in the hall and handed me a glass of wine. I sipped my wine as we split up to finish locking up the house.

Parker and Jenna had moved to the family room, and Parker had turned the TV on and the volume down low. At least he still enjoyed watching TV, and Jenna seemed to be fine with it, too. The two of them sat on the sofa, looking like two live kids.