Not quite as shabby, she thought, no boards on the windows. From her sense of the Joneses, they would have assigned staff, kids, themselves to scrub off any tagging. Maybe this time of year there had been some holiday wreath instead of a police seal on the door. The buildings around it would have changed a little here and there. Owners selling, tenants moving out, moving in. She considered the tat parlor and the bargain electronics shop with the going-out-of-business sign that had likely been up since it opened. Then scanned over to the small, anemic market on the other side. According to the canvass the tat parlor had only been in that location for seven years, but apparently the market had been struggling along for more than twenty. The uniforms she’d sent out hadn’t gotten much from the owner . . . Dae Pak, she confirmed from her notes. She crossed over, stepped inside.
