We got out of the car, and now the bearded man had his gun out again. He waved it at the side door of the home.
"Go inside."
I opened the door and stepped inside with Joe and the Russians right behind me. We were on a small landing. A set of four steps led up to the kitchen, and another set of steps led down to a closed door.
"Down," the bearded man said.
I went down and opened that door, too. This room had been remodeled into a basement office. There was a black desk with a glass top, a glass coffee table, a small bar with a bottle of Scotch, a big-screen television, and several black office chairs. The bearded man pushed me down into one of the chairs. A small man with a gray mustache sat behind the desk. He wore a white shirt with a maroon tie, and his face was lined with deep creases and dark circles under his brown eyes. It gave him a weary expression. If you passed him on the street you might have guessed he was a bookkeeper for some small-time company, a guy who had been commuting to work in the same office for forty years and was hoping to retire to a two-bedroom house in Parma.
"Here they are, Mr. Belov," the bearded man said. He stepped behind the desk and set our guns on the floor near Belov's feet. The blue-eyed man leaned against the wall, his hand maybe six inches from the butt of his gun.
"Which one of you is Mr. Pritchard?" Belov said. His voice was soft, but it had a hard edge, as if it might easily turn into a bellow.
"That's me," Joe said.
Belov nodded slightly. "You have interesting ways of trying to reach me, sir."
"I didn't know the best way to go about it. I hope you weren't offended."
"Not at all. And my maid appreciated the fifty dollars."
I looked at Joe. "You gave the maid fifty dollars?"
"And a note," he said. "She promised she'd see that it reached Mr. Belov. He called me shortly thereafter."
So much for Joe's vast underworld contacts.
"And who are you?" Belov said, turning his flat brown eyes to me.
"Lincoln Perry," I said. "I'm his partner."
He held the stare for a moment, then lifted his hand and pointed at the bearded man. "This is Alexander." The point switched to the blue-eyed man. "And this is Thor. Thor is quite a volatile, dangerous man. You would be well advised not to upset him."
I looked over my shoulder at Thor, and his glacier-ice eyes stared at the wall in front of him, appearing not to see me. I was sure he wouldn't miss any movement in the room, though. I believed Belov when he said Thor was dangerous.
"Now that we have all been introduced, we can begin," Belov said, as if he were preparing to open a seminar on the opportunities of purchasing a time-share condominium. His hands lay on the surface of the desk, fingertips pressed against the glass but palms arched slightly, as if he were playing a piano. Now he tapped his hands softly on the glass and stared at us.
"You said you had a tape I would be interested in seeing."
"That's right," Joe said. "I'm sure you'll be interested."
"And you want something in exchange for this tape," Belov said, still tapping on the glass. It was not a question.
"Yes," Joe said.
"What is that?"
Joe nodded at me.
"There's a woman and a little girl who have information that could be damaging to people in your organization," I said.
"My organization," he echoed.
"Yes. These people have tried to kill them already, and I'm afraid they will probably try again. We would like your help in seeing that does not happen."
His eyes never left mine. "I do not know anything of a woman and a little girl."
"No," I said, "you probably don't. But some of your associates do. It is your associates that we're concerned about, sir."
"And what has the woman done to cause these problems?"
"She hasn't done anything," I said. "Her husband was a private investigator, like us. He caught something on videotape that people didn't want to be seen. Your associates discovered this, and now they want the tape. They also want to kill the woman, because they think she's seen the tape. She hasn't seen it."
"And her husband? This investigator?"
"He's dead."
He stopped tapping his hands on the glass, and the abrupt lack of movement seemed to suggest an impending eruption, like the brief pause when a fuse has stopped burning but the charge hasn't exploded.
"What is on the tape?"
I looked at Joe, then back at Belov. "Information about your son's death."
"What information?"
"Will you see that the woman and girl are not harmed?"
"What information?" he repeated as if I had not spoken. He was more intense now, though, and behind me Thor had come off the wall and was standing upright. The comment about Belov's son had gotten their attention, all right.
"There's a man named Jeremiah Hubbard," I said. "I'm sure you've heard of him. This woman's husband was working for Hubbard, trying to come up with blackmail material to use in a property acquisition. The property they were interested in was The River Wild, a strip bar that I understand belongs to you."
He didn't say anything but motioned with his hand for me to continue.
"Your son was murdered. Probably inside of The River Wild, because we believe that was where this investigator was using surveillance cameras. We have the tape of your son's murder."
He leaned back in the chair and looked at Thor, then at me. His expression hadn't changed, but his breathing was quicker.
"You have the tape."
"Yes." I took it from my pocket and set it on the desk.
Belov handed it to Alexander, and he slipped the tape inside a VCR that was mounted above the television. Belov turned his chair so he was facing the screen, and Alexander pressed play. We all watched as the blue screen came up, and then it disappeared as the room came into view. Beside me, Joe was leaning forward, watching intently. I'd forgotten he hadn't seen the tape before.
We watched the entire thing in silence: the laughter at the table, the shooting, the body removal, and the cleanup work. Belov never said a word, and neither did anyone else. He never turned, just sat where he was, staring directly at the screen, never reacting to what he saw there. When the tape returned to the blue screen, Alexander reached over and shut the television off. He moved cautiously, as if afraid any action might enrage Belov.
For a long time, Belov remained staring at the blank television screen. When he finally spoke, his back was still to us.
"The woman and the girl. What are their names?"
"Julie and Betsy Weston," I said. "The father was Wayne Weston. You've probably heard a lot about them on the news recently."
"And Mr. Weston is dead?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who killed him?"
"No. It might have been the men on that tape; it might have been someone working for Jeremiah Hubbard. We're not sure."
"And some of these men have pursued the woman and girl?" All this with his back still to us.
"Yes. They followed them to South Carolina. Followed me, maybe. I killed one of them two days ago." There was no need to tell him that, but I also didn't see any reason to keep the information from him.
Belov was silent again. After a while I said, "The woman will be leaving soon. She's afraid to stay here, and she's not going to. We don't want anyone to pursue her, whether they come from your people or from Hubbard's people. We were hoping you could help us with that. I thought seeing the tape might be worth that to you."
"Have the police seen this tape?"
"No." I hesitated for a minute and then decided not to lie to him. "But they will. They'll probably see it today."
Alexander muttered something under his breath, not pleased by the news, but Belov didn't react. We sat there for another five minutes without speaking. I had nothing left to say, and Dainius Belov didn't seem like the type of man you rushed. When he did break the silence, it was with two short sentences.
"The woman and
the girl will not be harmed. You may go now."
Thor pulled open the door and stood beside it, and Alexander picked our guns off the floor and followed us out. Joe and I didn't say anything to Belov as we left. He never turned from the blank television screen.
We walked back up the steps and outside to the car. Thor drove us back to the Tower City parking garage, and when we pulled inside Alexander handed us our guns. I opened the door and stepped out, then turned and motioned for Thor to put the window down.
"Can we trust him?" I said.
A slight smile played on his lips. Amused by my question. "They are more safe now than ever before." The window slid back up, and he pulled the Town Car away.
Joe and I stood in the parking lot and watched them drive off. I leaned against the trunk ofa car beside me and said, "Wow."
"Belov doesn't look like the most dangerous man in the city, does he?" Joe said.
"No, he doesn't. But I'm still pretty sure he is."
"Uh-huh."
"Do you believe Thor?"
"When he said Mrs. Weston and the girl are more safe now than ever before?" Joe nodded. "I do. Guy like that? Who's to doubt him?"
We walked back to our cars. Before he got inside the Taurus, Joe said, "You know, I'd pictured more yelling, more profanity, more threats. At least two or three references to how our bodies could be dumped in the Cuyahoga. Instead he acted like we were discussing stock quotes."
"Uh-huh."
"Somehow," he said, "that scared me more than anything."
"Yeah," I said, "me, too."
CHAPTER 24
WE DROVE to my apartment. As soon as I turned onto the avenue I felt good. I was home now, and things were wrapping up nicely. Julie was still going to run, though. That thought spoiled my mood.
I didn't go inside the apartment but transferred my things out of the Contour and into the truck. I was damn sick of that little car. Once I'd made the vehicle switch, we went to the office. I found Sellers's phone number, then gave him a call. He remembered me, and when I told him what I had to offer I thought he was going to have a stroke. He promised to have Laura Winters call me back immediately. She was the prosecutor who'd handled several other cases with the Russian mob in town, and Sellers said she'd probably be salivating at the thought of taking on Jeremiah Hubbard as well. True to Sellers's word, Winters called within minutes. I ran through things again with her, and I was impressed by the way she kept silent and let me get through the story without shouting at me for failing to contact authorities sooner, as Sellers had done.
"Well, Mr. Perry, this is real big," she said. "How soon can you have Mrs. Weston here?"
"This afternoon."
"All right. I want to see her here at one, and I want you and your partner here, too. From what I've heard, the police are trying to locate you, but I'm not going to bring that into play yet, because I don't want this place turning into a circus before I have a chance to sit down with Mrs. Weston." Her voice had a nice hard edge to it. She sounded like a woman who probably did some serious ass-kicking in court.
"Thanks," I said. I knew she wasn't going to like what I had to say next, but it was probably better to prepare her over the phone, before I was within slapping range. "One other thing, Ms. Winters--a reporter for the Journal already has this story. She's probably going to want to run it tomorrow."
For a while there was just static in my ear. "Mr. Perry," she said eventually, "you're going to be a colossal pain in my ass, aren't you?"
I was smiling, but only because she couldn't see me. "I hope not, ma'am. But I know this isn't a real good start. Just remember that I am bringing you Julie Weston and the tape. That should help a little, shouldn't it?"
"It should, but that's no guarantee it will. I'll see you at one." She hung up on me.
Joe looked at me. "Good to go?"
"She wants us there at one."
I drove us back to the cottage. Amy had joined Julie, Betsy, and John now. I told them about our visit to Belov, and I told Amy that she couldn't consider including such information in the article. She said she understood, and I believed her. I trusted Amy as I trusted few others, which was what Julie had noticed the night before.
The mood at the cottage was light, but I didn't share it. I was tense, as I had been when I woke up in the morning reaching for my gun. Belov hadn't provided me with enough comfort. Krashakov and the rest of them were still out there, and they'd found us once before.
While the rest of us passed time inside, Joe took Betsy outside to play. I was amazed by how taken he was with the girl. As long as I'd known Joe, he'd never had a particular affinity for children.
"Are you ready to meet with Winters?" I asked Julie while we ate.
She finished chewing and frowned, then nodded. "Yes. I think I am. I guess I'll have to be."
John reached over and patted her hand. "You'll be fine."
I was about to say more when Joe stepped through the door, grim faced.
"Mrs. Weston, come here, please."
Julie saw something in his face that scared her, and she dropped her sandwich back onto her plate and said, "What is it? What's wrong?" A mother's instinct telling her something Joe's words hadn't.
"We've been playing hide-and-seek," Joe said. "I can't find her, and she won't answer my calls."
I was out of my chair even before Julie moved, my hand reflexively creeping toward my gun. This was it, I thought. That bad feeling I hadn't been able to shake was well founded, after all. The Russians had come, and they had Betsy.
Joe put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back as I moved for the door.
"Relax, LP. The kid's just hiding. I've been outside the whole time, and nobody's here."
"Let's find her, then."
We all went out on the deck, with me leading the way. Julie shouted Betsy's name while I scanned the woods, looking for a trace of movement, my hand still hugging my hip, ready to reach for the gun.
"Elizabeth Ann Weston, you come here this minute!" Julie shouted, and her voice went up in pitch at the end, a note of panic there.
We stood clustered together on the deck, listening for a response. A cold silence mocked us.
"Shit," I said, starting down the steps. "They're here."
"Wait," Amy said, grabbing my arm. "Listen."
We all froze again and listened, and this time I heard it, too. A faint voice coming from one end of the cottage.
We hurried around the corner of the cottage, John Weston limping along behind, swearing profusely about his failing legs. At the far end of the cottage Betsy's voice was louder.
"I'm stuck," she was yelling.
"She's in here," Joe said, dropping to one knee beside the wall. "It's some sort of crawl space." He pulled on a short, square wooden panel at the base of the wall. It didn't move. He grunted and wrapped his fingers around the edge, then gave it a mighty heave. The panel came loose, exposing a dark, dank crawl space beneath the cottage--and the cute little girl with the frightened face inside.
"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes beginning to well with tears as she saw the concern in our faces, "I got stuck. I pulled the door back so he couldn't see me, and it stuck." The tears began to flow freely then, and Joe took her under the arms and lifted her out gently, handing her to Julie. Julie stroked the girl's hair and whispered softly in her ear, but she held her in an unusually tight grip, the way you might hold something dear to you that had been salvaged from the ruins of a fire.
I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. Amy caught my eye and grinned, and I shook my head and laughed at myself. The adrenaline rush I'd just felt had matched anything I'd experienced in South Carolina.
"It's a hell ofa hiding spot, I've got to give her that," Joe said, peering into the crawl space. "And I'm stunned she went inside. Most girls her age wouldn't go in there without a flashlight for all the candy in the world."
There was no more hide-and-seek. We stayed inside the cottage and made small talk or sat in silence.
Betsy gave up her crying spell quickly, and we adults tried to downplay the scare she'd given us. Without giving it conscious thought, I found myself rising every few minutes to stand at the window and scan the tree line. During the few minutes Betsy had been missing, I'd been sure the Russians had arrived. Now she was back, but I still hadn't lost the feeling. After a while, Joe tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to join him on the deck.
"What's up?" I said when he'd slid the door closed behind us.
"We're going to see Winters in a couple hours. The girl doesn't need to be dragged along for that, and neither does John. Winters asked for us and Julie, and that's who should show up. The more people we bring, the more chaotic things get, and I don't want that."
"So?"
"So I'm not real comfortable leaving John and the girl here alone again." Betsy's brief disappearance had rattled him, too.
I nodded. "Me neither. I've had a bad feeling ever since she got stuck in that crawl space. Julie isn't going to want cops here yet, though."
"I know. That's why I think we should call Kinkaid."
I frowned. "Julie's got enough on her mind today as it is, Joe."
"Julie won't deal with him, then," he said. "You can take her out ahead of time, and I'll wait for Kinkaid to show. We need somebody here, LP, and he's the guy for the job. But if you don't want him here, we can leave the girl with a seventy-year-old man for protection." He shrugged. "It's your call."
I gazed in the window at Betsy and John Weston, thought about Krashakov and Rakic, and nodded again. "Call him."
Joe used his cell phone and called from the deck. I listened while he gave Kinkaid directions, and I remembered Julie's explanation of their history to me. A silly drunken advance that was quickly forgotten, she'd said. Not so quickly forgotten for Aaron Kinkaid. I knew how badly he wanted to see her again, and I almost felt guilty for sneaking her out before he arrived. Not too guilty, though.
"You didn't tell him Betsy will be here," I said when Joe hung up.
He shook his head. "I'll tell him when he gets here. I didn't want to have to explain how Julie's here now but going to be gone when he arrives. It seems a little shitty."
Tonight I Said Goodbye (St. Martin's Minotaur Mystery) Page 25
