Nelson Blake decided to get out of town while the getting was good, he told Sterling. He had decided to take a vacation in the Caymans where Jericho Wise owned the Renegade Hotel and Casino. He feared the police might get creative and plant some evidence so that they could arrest him again. I knew if I was going to find out anything about what really happened to the warden and his wife, I would have to get it from him before he left the country. There was an eight-thirty flight leaving Dulles for the Caymans and Nelson Blake said he would definitely be on it.
We all rode in Sterling’s limousine to the airport. But I wanted to speak to Blake alone. I thought that was the best way to get some vital information out of him. Blake and I sat at a table at T.G.I. Friday’s not far from gate D19. Sterling and Kelly sat a few tables from us.
Blake stared at me while I questioned him. I could tell that he wanted me. In another place, in another time, if I weren’t married, and if he wasn’t a criminal, I might go for the young man. There was something attractive about him. Perhaps it was his cool exterior. Or maybe it was the danger that seemed to seep from his pores. Whatever it was, it was alluring, but I remained professional.
“Listen, Blake,” I began. “I know you weren’t involved with the Perkins murders. The drug dealing is another matter altogether. We may not be able to prove that you were supplying the prison, but I know you were.” I bluffed. “However, I’m not interested in that crime. I’m interested in the murders. What can you tell me about them?”
Blake smiled broadly. “You know, girl, you sho’ is sexy.”
“Thank you,” I said, then went right back to work on him. “Did the warden have enemies inside the prison? Maybe one of the guards wasn’t getting enough of the cut?”
“I guess that ring means you married, huh?” Blake asked.
I didn’t want to turn him against me, so I figured I’d better play along for a while. I had about two hours before his plane took off. If I became argumentative, he may not tell me anything at all.
“Yes,” I said and showed him the ring up close.
“Humpf,” he grunted. “If I had you, I’da bought you one them Zsa Zsa Gabor rings. You know, one that would light up the night when the moonlight hit that bad boy. Like Alicia Keyes said, ‘Baby, you know you worth it.’”
I smiled. “I’m married, Nelson. I have an eight-year-old daughter, too. Please don’t interfere with that.”
“So you happy?” he asked.
I kind of laughed a little. Shook my head. “You know, Nelson, it always amazes me when people ask that question. It’s like if you say I’m unhappy, then somehow you’re no longer married or something. But, to answer your question, I’m very happy. Okay? Now, will you answer some of my questions before your plane takes off?”
“Yeah, okay. What do you wanna know?”
“What are your thoughts on the warden’s murder? If you had to guess, who would you say did it? Who would have that big of a grudge to bullwhip them like they were runaway slaves?”
“I have no idea. None whatsoever. Wasn’t no dealer though. If I had to guess, I’d look at the recently paroled inmates. Perkins was no choirboy. Allowed the prisoners to do pretty much what they wanted as long as nobody got killed. See, killin’ would bring too much unwanted heat. There would be an external investigation. Perkins couldn’t control that. So as long as nobody got killed, we all made money. Serious money. The warden, me, the guards and the gangs. And the prisoners got all the drugs they wanted.”
“So who would be pissed if everybody was getting what they wanted?”
“The hell if I know. If I did, I’d waste whoever it was myself. Deals like that don’t get no sweeter. On the other hand, Perkins let a lot of sexual abuse go on. Prostitution rings, gang bangin’ other prisoners—all kinds of shit went on in that prison. You had to be a gang member or a Muslim to avoid being turned out.”