Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Hold on, Mr. Raven. I didn’t mean to put you in a sour mood, but we have to double check everything and—”
“Double check everything? There’s nothin’ to double check, Porsche Lee. I was at work. End of story. You’re not a police officer anymore. You said it yourself. Therefore, I don’t even have to talk with you at all. I know my rights.”
To that, she smiled.
“Of course you don’t have to speak with me, and it’s not my intention to step on your toes. I’m just doing my job is all. We just want to eliminate anyone who wasn’t involved and follow up on all leads. Raven… isn’t that an English surname?” She tapped her chin. “I could have sworn you were Russian though.”
“So now you want to talk to me about last names? I’m not sure what my ethnic background has to do with this. Hell, Lee is usually a last name for Asian people, right? Chinese and Vietnamese, to be exact. Ya look Black to me, so what is your point?”
She grinned.
“It’s, L.E.E., not L.E., which is usually the Asian version.”
“Bruce Lee spelled it with two E’s. He was Chinese.”
“Yes, on occasion, you’ll find an added ‘E’ for the Asian surname, usually to make it more Americanized.”
“Lee versus Le for Americanized names?”
“Yes. That was not Bruce Lee’s actual birth name, however, Mr. Raven. He chose that. A stage name, if you will.” She and her brother used to love watching old martial arts shows. The memories flashed before her, and quickly fading.
“I know that wasn’t his birth name, but you’re confused.”
“How so?”
“That’s a different Bruce Lee you’re referrin’ to. Two different people. There’s a Lee Jun-fan, who is the famous martial artist everyone has heard of, and then the other one’s birth name was, Wong Kin-lung. He used the name Bruce Le, with one ‘e’. He paid homage to the original with a bunch of cheesy knock-off films. Bruce exploitation, they call it.”
“Oh, I stand corrected.” She smiled. “Are you a Bruce Lee fan, Mr. Raven?”
“No, I’m not too much into martial arts. I just understand things like that.”
Understand things like that? Random details the average person wouldn’t know?
One thing was for certain: Mr. Raven may have had a simple job, a body full of tattoos, dirt under his nails, and spoke in an unsophisticated manner, but he was proving quickly that he was no dummy. He also wasn’t a braggart, either—a man who just liked to hear himself talk. After all, this was the perfect opportunity for him to flex his know-it-all wings, but instead, he simply addressed the topic at hand and let it go.
This man knew a hell of a lot more than he was saying. It was evident that he didn’t wish to draw attention to himself, either. With the way his deep voice became softer as they spoke, and his body folded into itself a bit… Crossed arms, back slightly bent… as if shrinking himself to make her feel more comfortable. At ease.
Oddly enough, she didn’t think those physical changes were subconscious. He was making a choice. Trying to appear less threatening. Perhaps convince her a man like him wouldn’t hurt a fly. Regardless of his attempts to evaporate into thin air, becoming invisible was difficult for Mr. Raven to achieve, seeing as how he stood at six foot five, nothing but muscle and brawn.
Therefore, he was just the type of person to be able to pull off such a diabolical murdering spree, upon first impression. Strong in mind and body. Some serial killers were gloaters and attention seekers, thinking they were smarter than everyone else. Others were quieter… more calculating. Mr. Raven commanded attention by simply entering a room. No, his motives would be different for situations such as these…
“We got off on this crazy tangent about Bruce Lee because of my asking about your last name. I was just curious is all. It has nothing to do with the case.”
He shot her an incredulous look.
“Seriously. Just thought it interesting.” Her cheeks plumped as she tried to earn his trust.
“Anything you ask me right now, you can somehow tie into your investigation. No simple answer is just a simple answer with people like you. It’ll be used against me.”
People like me? Investigators… police officers… maybe even newscasters…
“Since you want to know about my last name, it’s no secret. My great grandfather’s name was Mikhail Voron. He changed it to the English equivalent, Raven, when he and his wife came here from Novosibirsk, Russia. From the way it was told to me, he wanted to fit in and ingratiate himself into this country’s culture.”
“Ahhh, makes sense. Kind of like the—”
“—Americanization.”
“Yes.”
That was the first time she saw his features soften. Not due to sharp sarcasm or a mean-spirited jab, but with actual relaxation. Calm. He reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a cigarette from an open pack, then she sneaked a glance at the passenger’s seat of his truck as he lit it. She noted a white plastic bag with two drink bottles. Whatever he’d purchased and brought with him out of the gas station.