"She shot herself up with heroin. How was she killed?"
"I don't know exactly, but it's possible someone else injected her."
"It's possible?" Darcy screeched. "You're accusing Dad of terrible things on some incredibly ridiculous possibility?"
"It's not ridiculous, Darcy."
"Then why didn't the police ask these questions? Why are you the only one who is coming up with new ideas?"
"I don't know. The police report is far too short for what should have been a much more thorough investigation."
Darcy blew out a breath and got up and paced around the small sitting area. "Why are you obsessed with this? Is it just about making the movie? About your big break?"
"It's not about that at all anymore. Yes, I did think of it that way in the beginning, but I originally got involved because Grandpa asked me to. Now, I want to do it for Natasha."
"Natasha? You act like you know her."
"I feel like I'm starting to. She's becoming clear in my mind, while other people are becoming blurrier, like Dad, and even Mom. Their resistance is…weird."
"It's not weird. Dad hated his mother. She abandoned him. I don't know about this story with the burgers, but he told me he rarely saw her after she left. And she was a terrible mother." Darcy sat back down, an odd light in her eyes. "Although there was this one time…"
"What?" she asked curiously.
"I was about fifteen. I was late for curfew and I went around the backyard to sneak in and Dad was sitting on the deck. It was two in the morning, and he was drinking. I was shocked because he never drank. But he had a half bottle of Scotch next to him. When he saw me, he just blinked at me. It was so strange. He asked me if Mom was looking for him, and he didn't seem to realize that I was just getting home. I said no, that I had seen him outside and wondered if he was okay. He said it was a bad night. It was the night his mom died."
She leaned forward, even more interested in the story now. "Seriously?"
Darcy nodded. "I played along. I was thinking more about how I was going to get into the house than what he was saying, but his words were so strange they stuck with me."
"What did he say?"
"He said he made a terrible mistake, because he was young and stupid and selfish. He hoped I never knew what that felt like. I asked him what the mistake was, but he didn't answer. He just took another drink and looked out at the pool. I went into the house. The next morning, he acted like nothing had happened. He never said anything about our conversation, and I didn't want to bring it up, so that was that. I never saw him like that again. And I don't think he ever mentioned Grandma's death again, either."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought you'd rat me out if you knew I broke curfew."
"I wouldn't have done that. You were the one who always told on me. I never got you in trouble."
"Because I rarely did anything against the rules, whereas you did just about everything."
"Well, you broke curfew at least once," she reminded her.
"Tim's car broke down."
She gave her sister a doubtful look. "Really? That's your story? You weren't making out and lost track of time?"
"Whatever."
Like her father, Darcy hated to be caught in a negative light.
"You and Dad are a lot alike," Maya said. "You both hide your weaknesses. You're always afraid someone will think badly of you."
"I'm happy to be like him. He's a good man. He's successful. He's a great husband and father. And now he's hurting, because of you. You always have to push the limits, Maya. Why?"
"Because that's what it takes sometimes. You push, too."
"Not about things like this. Does it really matter how Grandma died? It's been a long time since it happened, and Grandpa is losing his memories every day."
"It still matters. She was our blood. We wouldn't be here if she hadn't lived. Doesn't her death deserve justice?"
"Not if it was suicide."
"You just told me that Dad said he made a terrible mistake. I think he was in the car and he left, for whatever reason. I don't think he killed his mother. But I do believe he lied about where he was that night, and I don't understand why. I can't let it go until he tells me."
"He'll never tell you, Maya. Hasn't he made that clear?"
"Then I'll figure it out without him."
"How can you do that?"
"By talking to everyone who Natasha knew. It might take me a while, but I'll do it. Someone knows something. At some point, there will be a slip, a crack wide enough for me to pry open."
There was an odd gleam of respect in her sister's eyes.
"Why this?" Darcy asked. "You've quit college, jobs, relationships—why is this the one goal you're determined to achieve?"
"Because this one is important. And I didn't quit any of those things just to quit. I made decisions that were good for me. I'm not like you. I didn't have my plan worked out by the time I was ten. You and James are different. You're like Mom and Dad. I'm not. I think I'm probably more like Natasha."
"So that's the real reason? You've found a kindred spirit?"
"Maybe I have. I also think that the truth may set Dad free."
"How so?"
"From what you just said, he feels guilt about that night. He probably wonders if she'd still be alive if he hadn't left. If I can find out what really happened, maybe that will take away some of his guilt."
"Or make it worse. If she was killed, he'll have a difficult time not blaming himself. An overdose is bad enough. He could have thought that maybe if he'd stuck around, she wouldn't have done it, but if someone killed her…I don't see how he gets a reprieve from guilt. I don't see a happy ending for any of us, Maya."
Her sister had a point. "Well, maybe I'll just find out the truth and keep it to myself."
"You would not make the movie?"
"It depends on what I learn. I'm sorry. That's all I can give you. Now, are we done? Because it's a long drive back."
"Why don't you stay here? You can use the guest room."
"I'll just go home."
"No. I won't sleep at all worrying about if you made it back safely or not."
"You surely don't lose sleep worrying about me."
"I actually do, more than you would probably believe," Darcy told her. "You are my little sister, and maybe we're different people, but we are blood."
"I guess I could stay," she said, mostly because she was too exhausted to think of driving home and going back to her empty house after what had happened the night before.
"Good. So, is there anything else going on in your life? Are you dating? Is there a man?"
She hesitated as Jax's image flashed through her head.
"There is someone," Darcy said, a gleam in her eyes. "Who is he?"
"He's not…I don't know. We just met. It might not be anything."
"What does he do?"
"He's an actor and a bartender."
"Oh, well, that sounds about right. Have you ever thought of dating someone with a real job?"
"Those are real jobs. Besides, he's incredibly good-looking—tan, with blonde hair, blue eyes."
"He probably surfs, too, right?" Darcy said with a roll of her eyes. "Sounds like a Southern California guy."
"I'm not sure if he surfs—maybe. I don't know that much about him, but I like what I know."
"I hope he's not trying to use your connections to get ahead."
"He's not. He's not even sure he wants to act anymore. And he's never asked me about whether I have anything to do with casting." As she thought about it, it did seem a bit strange that they hadn't talked about the world they had in common. Then again, they'd spent most of their time discussing her grandmother.
"Well, I hope you can trust him," Darcy said, getting to her feet. "You haven't always made the best decisions when it comes to men."
"It was one bad decision," she reminded her sister. "And I can trust Jax." As she followed her sister into the house, she re
ally hoped she was right.
Sunday morning, Jax sat on his surfboard near the Manhattan Beach Pier, just beyond the break. He'd ridden a few waves, but mostly he'd watched the other surfers, hoping David Graham would show up. He had a plan of attack, and he was eager to put it in motion. But it was nine and David hadn't arrived. Most of the morning surfers were hitting the shore. And he had to meet Maya at eleven for breakfast at Belle's. Luckily, Belle's was only a few miles away. He could hang for a while longer.
He had to admit it felt good to be in the water. He hadn't surfed in a couple of years. He'd done it a lot earlier in his life, but he wasn't that good at waiting for waves. He liked more constant action and not having so much time to think. Although, it was nice to have that time this morning.
He was mentally tired after having stayed up until two researching members of the Firebird Club. He'd dug further into the Bragins, learning more about their roster of companies, which was extensive. At least half of them dealt in classified information, which was concerning. Daniel Bragin had started out with one software company back in the seventies and had built an empire over the next fifty years, accumulating a great deal of wealth along the way.
What was also interesting was that Daniel Bragin's father had been born in Ukraine. It made sense that Bragin would have Russian ties since he was one of the original investors in the Russia House. But it also made Jax wonder if Bragin had some role in whatever was at play.
Was he disseminating information from his own companies? Had his daughter taken that over once she'd become CEO and Daniel had retired? Or were Daniel and his daughter victims?
Those answers still eluded him.
He'd also looked up Edward Coleman, Sylvia's father. Coleman's grandmother had been Russian, but Edward and his parents had been born in the US. The Colemans were a political family. Edward was a lawyer, who had become the DA of Los Angeles, then the California State Attorney General. After that, he'd had two failed runs at the US Senate and had ended up in private practice. He'd been married twice. His first marriage had produced his daughter, Sylvia, who he'd ended up raising after his wife died of cancer. His second wife had died in a car accident ten years ago. Since then, he'd been dating a woman in her forties, while he was nearing eighty, but the man had charm and money, so Jax wasn't completely surprised.
Sylvia's second husband, Mark Graham, had also been involved in politics, serving as a state congressman for eight years, before he'd divorced her and moved to Paris. Jax hadn't been able to find anything on Graham after that move, which was odd. Sylvia was a bit of a mystery, too. She ran the club like a mama bear protecting her cubs. She was suspicious of any new staff member or anyone threatening to upset a member, like Maya. But she'd been around the club when she was a teenager, she'd married Bozic’s stepbrother and worked at Falcon Motors. She was clearly involved with Eddie Bozic now, and her son was involved, too.
So, who was calling the shots? Was it Bozic? Had he encouraged Sylvia to leave his dealership and go back to the club, thereby giving him access to a lot of people with money, power and connections? Or was Sylvia in charge?
He didn't like Sylvia for the moniker "the Wolf" which had been mentioned in both Natasha's journal and by Yuri right before he died. He suspected the Wolf was one of the older guys—Constantine, Bragin, Coleman, Jagger, or Paul. Of that group, he'd put the first three as his top picks. But he needed more information, and his golden ticket to that info was David. He was Sylvia's son. He knew Bozic. He had access to the cars. He was right in the middle of the action. He also didn't like his mother, seemed to hate his job, and was now in trouble with Bozic, who'd threatened him with death. That also made Bozic a suspect for the Wolf moniker, although he was in his sixties versus seventies, which made him a little young for Natasha's circle, but not out of the realm of possibility.
As an ocean swell pushed him higher on the water, he saw David coming down the beach, and excitement ran through him. The kid was here, and as usual, he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. David took another puff, then tossed the cigarette into the sand and waded into the water with his board.
As David made his way out to the break, Jax paddled in his direction.
When they eventually crossed paths, he feigned surprise. "David?"
David moved into a sitting position. "Jax, you made it out here."
"Yep. I took your advice. The waves are good here."
"Not much happening at the moment."
"They were better earlier." He paused, debating again how he wanted to play this. He didn't want to completely risk his cover until he knew how malleable David might be. "My friend is putting together a poker game for Tuesday night. Buy-in is 5K. You interested?" He knew from the staffing schedule at the club that David was off on Tuesday night, which was why he'd selected that day, even though he hated to wait that long.
"Tuesday, huh? Who's in the game?"
"Movie studio execs who aren't as good at poker as they are at making films. It's in a suite at the Danforth Hotel in Beverly Hills. Eight o'clock."
"You got that kind of cash as a bartender?" David quizzed, a suspicious look in his eyes.
"I do some side jobs."
"Like what?"
He shrugged. "Whatever pays cash and needs someone who doesn't ask questions."
David nodded. "Those can be lucrative."
"Can you make the game, or do you have to work?"
"I'm off on Tuesday, but I don't know yet. I can probably make it. I can let you know."
"I'll need to know by Monday. They don't like empty seats. I'm telling you, David, these guys are easy pickings."
"I like the sound of that."
"I'll be at the club later. Maybe you can tell me then." He glanced back, seeing a wave building behind him. He didn't want to oversell his pitch, so he said, "I'm going to take this one. See you tonight."
"Later."
He rode the wave to shore. Then he jogged up the sand to his car, happy that David had bought into the game. Once he got him into the suite at the hotel, he would make David an offer he couldn't refuse. He wished he didn't have to wait until Tuesday, but he had to work the next two nights and taking a sick day could give Sylvia a reason to fire him. He also needed time to find a way to put David into even more hot water. That would help him in his approach. He would only have one shot, so it had to be a good one.
Chapter Thirteen
Maya stopped at her house long enough to change into a summer dress and throw on some wedge sandals. She also put on a little makeup, excited to be seeing Jax again. She wished they'd met under more normal circumstances. On the other hand, they probably wouldn't have met at all if she hadn't been at the Firebird Club, and the only reason she'd gone there was because of her grandmother.
As she drove to Belle's, she felt energized and optimistic. It wasn't just a new day; it was a pretty day—heat going up into the eighties, and nothing but blue sky on the horizon. She'd learned a lot about Natasha in the past few days. Hopefully, she would learn more today. She'd done a little research on her phone when she'd woken up, and she'd discovered that Natasha's friend, Julia Poplova, who had once been a professional tennis player, owned a tennis club in Ocean Colony, a housing development in Marina Del Rey, very close to Santa Monica where she was meeting Jax. The article she'd found on the club had also shown photos of Julia's house which was located right next to the courts. She planned to hit up the club and her house after breakfast.
It would be nice to hear what Julia had to say, since she was maybe the only person who could speak to who Natasha had been as a young girl. Even if they hadn't ended up the best of friends, perhaps she'd be willing to share. Unless, of course, Julia had had something to do with Natasha's death. Every single person she talked to was a suspect. She really hadn't been able to eliminate anyone yet.
A few minutes later, she drove into the parking lot behind Belle's and tried to tamp down the enthusiasm running through her. She really should not be this eager to s
ee Jax.
But when she got out of her car and saw him waiting outside the restaurant, her heart skipped a beat. He wore faded jeans and a navy-blue polo that brought out the blue in his eyes and the blond in his hair. He looked happy to see her, a sparkle of light in his eyes as he grabbed her arms and pulled her in for a kiss.
It was exactly the way she'd wanted to start this breakfast. His warm kiss drove away all the uncertainty she'd felt about him the night before. Maybe he'd just been stressed out about getting caught while messing around with her at his workplace, and that's why he'd seemed so up and down.
"Morning," he said, with a smile that sent more shivers down her spine. "You look beautiful, Maya."
She flushed at the look in his eyes. "Thanks. You look rested and happy."
"That's because you're here."
"I'd like to think that's true."
"It is," he said with a little laugh. "I also went surfing this morning. I haven't been out on the water in a long time. It felt good."
"Was it freezing?"
"Not bad. I had on a wetsuit. Do you surf?"
"No," she said, thinking about her conversation with her sister the night before when Darcy had said that Jax sounded like a typical Southern California guy. "I'm not a big fan of the ocean. I like to look at it, but I don't like to swim in it. That pull you get when the water is rushing back out always makes me a little nervous. I got caught in an undertow when I was a kid. I was swept right off my feet. Luckily, my dad was able to grab me and haul me back in." She paused, thinking that was one of the few times when she'd felt her dad's strong presence in her life. There had been a lot of other times when he hadn't been there to catch her fall or even see her heading into trouble. Not that she probably would have listened if he tried to warn her about some possible problem. When he said go right, she always wanted to go left.
Fearless Pursuit (Off The Grid: FBI Series Book 8) Page 14
