Whittaker came up beside us and stepped on the vamp’s remaining arm. My boss then pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance and backup.
There really wasn’t anything I could do for the vamp, other than get a pressure bandage from my saddle bag and press it to the wound. The explosive bullet had taken the arm off at the shoulder joint, so there wasn’t any stump to put a tourniquet around. But even as I applied the bandage, the amount of blood leaking from the wound was already slowing.
I looked around and saw Novak about thirty feet away holding the girl. I scanned the area but didn’t see anyone suspicious. A few people peeked out of their apartments, and the door to Janice’s place was open.
More cops showed up in about five minutes, and the ambulance followed close behind. The EMTs stripped off my attempt at a wound dressing and threw a pressure bandage twice as large on the vampire’s shoulder, strapped him to a gurney, and took off with him. Novak put Janice in a patrol car with a uniform watching her.
“Shall we go see what the shooting was about?” I asked Whittaker.
“You know where?”
I nodded and headed up the stairs.
The door stood wide open, and it didn’t look like it was forced. Remembering how innocently Janice opened the door for me, I wasn’t surprised. Martin Johansson had seen better days. He was lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the living room floor, his eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Novak and I searched through the rest of the apartment but didn’t find anyone else.
“Three slugs,” Whittaker said when I came back to the living room. “Belly, chest, and a final one in the head.”
“Must have surprised him,” I said. “He was an electrokinetic, and I don’t see any evidence that he employed his magik.”
Whittaker shook his head. “So, what was it that you wanted to tell me about Martin Johansson?”
“That little girl out there was his mistress. That’s Sarah Benning’s car parked behind the building. So, other than him being a pedophile, I suspect he was involved in the white slavery business up to his eyebrows, along with smuggling a bunch of other stuff. I don’t have any concrete proof, but if you can get access to his bank accounts, I’m pretty sure you’ll find he was doing business with Fredo, Ashvial, and the vampire who owns a place called Dorothy’s Dungeon. Those are probably just the tip of the iceberg.”
“You know he’s connected to Akiyama,” Novak said. “That would explain the smuggling. They could have used Johansson and maintained deniability.”
The Akiyama Family was one of the Ten, and the main shipping competitor of Findlay. In fact, the two Families competed in several spheres of business. Akiyama was headquartered in Asia, with their strongest North American presence on the West Coast, so it made sense to use their ally as a proxy in the Mid-Atlantic.
“So, why would one of his business associates want him dead?” Whittaker asked. “And what makes that little girl who lived here so special?”
“She might have overheard something,” I said. “I did speak with her last week, and I’ve had a camera on the place since then. I haven’t looked at what it captured for a couple of days. But somehow, Johansson and Sarah Benning are connected, and me snooping around might have made one of Johansson’s friends uncomfortable.”
“Where’s the camera?”
I led him outside and pointed at the miniature camera, no larger than a small marble, stuck on the ceiling of the walkway in front of the apartment.
He grinned. “Perfectly legal.”
“Yes, sir. You told me to keep my nose clean.” I didn’t tell him about my forays into Johansson’s bank accounts. But camera surveillance in public places was assumed by most of the populace.
“Get me the video as soon as you can. And try to identify that vamp. I don’t think he’s going to survive, and even if he does, I doubt he’ll be very cooperative.”
I assigned the vamp, assuming he survived, to Novak to interrogate and took Janice for myself. She looked tiny and miserable sitting in an interview room all alone. No evidence of tears.
“Hi, Janice,” I said when I entered the room. “Are you thirsty or hungry?”
She shook her head. I set the bottle of cold water I’d brought on the table in front of her.
“Do you remember me?” I asked.
She pulled her head down into her shoulders like a turtle and glowered at me.
“I’m Detective Lieutenant Danica James of the Metropolitan Police. I’ve been working on an investigation of girls who’ve gone missing. That’s what led me to Martin Johansson. You do know who Martin Johansson is, right?” It wouldn’t have surprised me if Johansson gave her a fake name.
A grudging nod.
“And you know who Camille Cordero is, right?”
An angry sneer.
“Well, with your help, I’m going to put Camille Cordero and her friends out of business.”
“Won’t do no good. Someone else just take her place,” Janice muttered.
“That may be, but I’ll take them one at a time.”
“You’re gonna end up dead like Martin.”
“Someday, but I’m not going down easy. Who was the vamp?”
We chatted for a couple of hours, then I turned her over to Ruth Harrison. I stood with Whittaker, watching as Ruth led her away.
“So, what do we have?” Whittaker asked.
“The social worker who sold her to Johansson. The vamp I shot works for Doan Felspeth, the owner of Dorothy’s Dungeon, who bought girls and boys from Johansson. Janice knows the shooter as Felspeth’s errand boy. She also said Johansson would take her over to Felspeth’s place sometimes to watch other men play with her.”
“A fifteen-year-old hooker isn’t going to be a good witness against a member of the Hundred.”
It bothered me to hear an abused child called a hooker, but I let it go because Whittaker was my boss. “If Johansson was alive. But with
