by Robin Caroll
He had it bad. Real bad. Where was Charlie to lecture him when he needed it?
“Come on inside.” Alena held the front door open for them.
Julian led Sophia across the threshold. She walked to the couch in the living room and sat down. He felt ill at ease, not at all like the detective he was.
Alena shut the front door and locked it. Flipped the deadbolt. “I make you nice cup of tea, Sophia. Just like your mamochka used to drink it.”
Sophia smiled, then tilted her head toward Julian.
“Oh. Would you like a cup, politseyskiy?”
He could only assume that meant policeman. “Yes. Thank you.”
Alena nodded and left. The sound of water running came from the other room.
Julian smiled at Sophia, feeling more awkward than ever. What was he supposed to say? Tell her just her touch sent him spiraling out of control? And in the back of his mind, he could hear Charlie’s words, that Sophia had never been kissed by someone over the age of twenty-one. The thought made him happy, although he knew it shouldn’t.
He wanted to be the first man to kiss her.
Whoa! Where had that come from?
His cell rang. He snatched it off his belt holder and stood. “Excuse me,” he told Sophia as he unlocked the front door and stepped outside. “Detective Frazier.”
“Detective, this is Lee in forensics.”
Excitement rose in his chest. “Yes?”
“We got the DNA results back from the sample taken from Nina Montgomery’s blouse.”
“And?” The techs liked drawing stuff out. Must watch too much CSI and the like.
“We ran it through CODIS and got a match. DNA belongs to one Boris Taras. His report is being sent to your desk right now.”
“Thanks.”
“Detective, this isn’t all.”
“Oh?”
“We pulled the stains on the center part of the quilt. . . all of the samples are blood.”
“You’re sure?” Sophia had seemed to think it was a soda or something.
“One hundred percent. Tests on them should be complete tomorrow, but initial testing did reveal something I thought you might find interesting.”
“What?”
“There are two different types of blood, and neither is Nina Montgomery’s type.”
“You’re positive?”
“Yes, sir. Like I said the test results will be in tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thanks, Lee. Keep me posted. I appreciate it.”
* * *
She shouldn’t have touched him, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Now he felt uncomfortable and things were awkward between them. Just when he’d started to treat her like a person and not part of his case, talking about his car and his partner.
Sophia stared at the front door. How could she make it right between them?
“Here is your tea. With sugar and milk, just like Nina used to drink it.” Alena set the steaming cup on the table beside the couch. A straw was inside.
Very thoughtful of her to remember. Sophia smiled her thanks.
“I am happy you are here, Sophia. We have missed much time to make up.” Alena smiled at her. “You look very much like my Nina when she was little girl.”
Sophia smiled and nodded. She’d seen the pictures of her mother as a young mother. They did bear a strong resemblance.
Julian came back inside. He sat on the little settee across from Alena. She handed him a cup. “Your tea. I did not know if you wanted milk or sugar or lemon, so I added in nothing.”
“It’s fine.” He took a sip, grimaced, then set it down. He pointed at the quilt. “Charlie mentioned you learned it’s not Nina’s costume?”
“No, my Nina was never Sugar Plum Fairy. She was always Clara in the Nutcracker. That was Nadia’s costume.”
“Are you sure?” he asked Alena.
“Da. I go to see Nadia perform the night before she killed. It is her costume.”
“But you don’t remember your mother ever mentioning Nadia’s name?” Julian asked Sophia.
She shook her head, wishing Charlie was here.
“I do not know why. They were best friends.” Alena took a sip of her tea. “Perhaps after Lance died, my Nina regret not choosing Dimitri and got jealous of Dimitri and Nadia being couple.”
Was she kidding? Sophia shook her head. She might not know her mother as well as she thought she did, but the thought of Mamochka being jealous over another man? Ludicrous.
“Do not be so sure, Sophia. Your mamochka was with Dimitri for a time. He would do anything to make her happy. She broke his heart when she married your father. He only go with Nadia to forget Nina.” Alena stood, lifting her empty cup. “Anybody want more tea?”
Sophia and Julian both shook their heads.
As soon as Alena was gone, Julian leaned forward, closer to Sophia. “The stain on the bodice there . . . it’s not a soda spill like you thought. It’s blood. And not your mother’s type. Let me see.” He pulled the quilt gently toward him. “Look. See.” He pointed to two other areas with red stain droplets. “There are two other areas. All of them are blood. Two different types, and neither of them match your mother’s type.”
What did that mean? Why was it even important?
Alena came back into the living room and sat back down in her chair.
Julian looked at Sophia, then at Alena. “Mrs. Borin, do you know a man named Boris Taras?”
Boris who? Where did he get the name from?
“I do.”
Julian’s eyes lit up like a kid’s on his birthday. He inched to sit on the edge of the seat. “How do you know him?”
“He is Dimitri little brother.”
15
We need to pull everything we can find on this Dimitri Taras and Nadia Paley.” Julian made long strides toward his desk. “Lee said the report on Boris should be on my desk.”
Brody matched his pace. “I’ll start pulling the reports.”
“There has to be a connection to make this whole case come together.”
“Captain Pittman was breathing fire over all the media buzz when Charlie and I came in earlier. We’ve been getting bombarded with calls. Our officer at the Montgomery property has had to call for backups three times already tonight.”
“At least the media hasn’t yet gotten wind that Nina was killed.”
“It’s only a matter of time.” Brody’s fingers went to flying over his keyboard.
Julian found the file Lee had sent over and opened it. He read aloud to Brody. “Boris Taras, thirty-nine, left Russia at the age of three with his father, Igor, and his older brother, Dimitri, and became an American citizen. Sealed juvie records. After turning eighteen, he proceeded with multiple breaking and enterings, thefts, a couple of drug charges, and a half dozen assaults.”
“Nice,” Brody said. “Do we have an address for this fine, upstanding young man?”
“According to his parole report, last known address is in Little Rock.”
“Slide it over here, and I’ll call our friends over in the Rock and ask them to pick up Mr. Taras for a little chat with us.”
Julian slid the file over to him. While Brody made the call, he opened the case file, updated it, then stared at the blinking cursor.
What did Nina Montgomery have that she didn’t want to give to Boris? Something about Dimitri? How did Nadia fit in?
What if Nadia gave Nina whatever it was Boris wanted? She probably could have used Dimitri to gain access to whatever it was.
Which, given his rap sheet, was probably something Boris stole.
What? They’d gone over Nina’s house and found nothing worth a lot of money.
“Interesting,” Brody interrupted Julian’s ponderings.
“What?”
“I got the financials back on Nina Montgomery.”
“And?” Julian lifted his key chain and began to spin it around his index finger.
“Every November for the past fifteen years, Nina
has received a wire transfer in the amount of fifty thousand dollars.”
“What?” Fifty thousand for fifteen years was roughly seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
Plenty to kill over.
Brody nodded. “The transfers move from one name to another, through about five different banks. I’ll put in a request for our whiz team to do their best to find the point of origin.”
“It’s insane. Whatever did she spend so much money on?” Julian couldn’t comprehend it. Her house, while nice, had been paid for with her husband’s life insurance. Same with her studio.
“From what I can tell, looks like the bulk of it was paid directly to Sophia’s gymnastic coach and her gym membership.”
“So much?” No way!
“About twenty-five grand a year, according to the numbers here.” Brody closed the file and shook his head. “I bet Sophia doesn’t even have a clue.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t.” Julian recalled how shocked and disappointed Sophia looked when she discovered her mother had lied to her about Alena being alive.
This would devastate her.
“We need to keep this under our hats until we get more information.”
“I agree. But looks like we have motive.”
“Maybe that’s what they were looking for—her bank account information. With her moving it from name to name and bank to bank and around all over, it’d be hard for someone to trace.”
“But how would Boris Taras know about the money?”
“Maybe he knew about the annual wire transfers and didn’t realize Nina was spending over half of it in a bulk check to cover Sophia’s gymnastics lessons. Maybe he thought she had easy access to several hundred thousand dollars, and that’s what he was asking for.”
Julian swung his key chain around and around. “Could very well be. Definitely a strong motive, but the question still remains—as much as Nina went through to keep the money hidden until she spent it, how did Boris know about the transfers?”
“Maybe once we find the point of origin for the money, we’ll have a clue.”
“Hope so.” Julian stared at the picture of Boris, his stomach twisting as he took in every nuance of the man’s face.
Thin face. Slight build. Dirty blond hair. The man who killed Nina Montgomery, most likely. He fit the description Sophia had given of the man who’d been fighting her mother. The one wearing the Russian hat who would’ve dripped sweat on her blouse.
Julian hung the picture on the board beside their desks. Who was your accomplice?
The dead, hateful eyes stared silently back at him.
“Does Boris have any known accomplices?” He scrolled through the case file. “Any known accomplices who match the description of a shaved head, bulky with muscles, stands just under six feet, wears steel-toed boots, and has body odor?”
“Let me check in the system.” Brody typed away on his keyboard. After a moment, he hummed. “Well, he has two known accomplices. One is a Chester Milton, and the other is a Donald Obstfeld. Let me see if I can find a description of either.”
“Obstfeld. Is he Russian?”
“I have no idea, but his description in no way matches. Donald Obstfeld is five feet five inches, only weighs one hundred and forty-
five pounds, wears thick-as-a-bottle-bottom glasses, and works at the Little Rock YMCA.” Brody made a few more keystrokes. “Picture is printing.”
“I’ll get it while you see what you can find on Chester Milton.” Julian went to the community printer and pulled off the photo. No way was this the man who’d hurt Sophia. To use her word, this guy looked like a weasel.
Julian hung the photo next to Boris Taras. “How are these two known accomplices?”
“Seems Boris was married to Donald’s sister for all of six months before they had the marriage annulled. Donald is linked to several of Boris’s drug charges. Prescription drugs stolen and sold on the street.”
Definitely not the man who’d crushed Sophia’s hands by stepping on them.
Julian stared at Boris’s picture while Brody typed. Long moments passed before he stopped typing. “Got it. Chester Milton’s picture is printing now, but his description is six foot one, two hundred twenty-five pounds, with short silver hair.”
Could be. Julian moved to the printer. The face staring up at him was one of pure evil. Almost as evil as Boris’s. He hung the picture next to Boris and Donald’s. “I think this is our other guy.”
“We can’t know for certain. This guy has hair and Sophia said the guy was bald.”
“Look how thin it is, Brody. He probably shaves it regularly.” It was him. Julian knew it. In his gut.
“We’ll get her to look at the picture tomorrow and tell us. Once we know for sure, we can act.”
Julian nodded. “Do we have a last known address for Milton?”
“We do. Also in the Rock.” Brody lifted his phone. “I’ll put in a request for our friends over there to add Mr. Milton to the invitation list for pickup.”
“Good.”
Brody finished his call.
“How are Taras and Milton connected?” Aside from the attack on Sophia and Nina’s murder.
“Chester Milton has been connected to the Taras family ever since they arrived here from Russia. Milton grew up alongside Dimitri and Boris, viewing Igor as a father figure.”
“I don’t get it. The Taras family has always had money from what I understand, so why did Boris and Milton go the crime route?”
“From what I found out, Dimitri was the Taras golden boy. In ballet, school. People respected him, which Igor liked. He couldn’t buy the kind of respectability Dimitri earned by dancing. Being romantically linked with Nina Borin didn’t hurt his reputation, either. Remember, she was a star on the rise back in the day. Came straight from Russia to D.C., gaining nothing but momentum as she moved on to New York. Dimitri even partnered with her in a few dances, but it was obvious to the industry and reviewers alike that his talent wasn’t even close to hers.”
“Could it have been part of the reason for their disenchantment with one another?” Clearly something caused a rift, because she soon was smitten enough with Lance Montgomery to get pregnant and marry him.
“There’s nothing on it,” Brody answered.
“What about Nadia Paley?”
“It’s loading now.”
Julian spun his key chain. Faster and faster.
“Nadia Paley. Member of the New York City Ballet. Aged
twenty-two at her time of death. She was found dead in her dressing room, backstage after her performance in the Nutcracker sixteen years ago.”
Twenty-two years old . . . a crime to die so young. “Alena said she’d been murdered.”
“Yes. According to the coroner, cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head. It was labeled a homicide.”
“Anyone convicted on the case?”
Brody scrolled through pages on his computer. “No. Nobody was ever charged.”
“Really?” Julian set down his keychain and stared at his partner. “Who were their prime suspects?”
“These records don’t show any prime suspects. A couple of fellow dancers were investigated, but nothing came of the inquiries.”
“That’s New York for you.”
Brody shook his head. “She didn’t die in New York.”
“She didn’t? Where’d she die?” Julian asked.
“In Arkansas. Little Rock.”
“That’s insane.” Julian shook his head.
“It’s a tragedy is what it is. Beautiful young ballerina murdered, and they can’t even build a case to charge someone? It’s a tragedy.”
“But yet you believe in God?” Julian held up his hands, instantly regretting his words. “Sorry, man. None of my business.”
“It’s okay. Tragedies happen. Murders happen. Crime happens. But in it all, I know it’s not of God’s doing. It’s men’s doing.”
“But isn’t God all powerful and all that
?”
Brody laughed. “Yeah, he’s all powerful and all that, but He also gave us free will. Meaning we could choose to follow Him and do what’s right, or we can just do whatever we want. He’s not a dictator god, Julian, but a loving one. Just like Nina loved Sophia and Alena loved Nina. Both differently, but still love. Alena tried to force her wishes on Nina and you see how well it turned out. God doesn’t want us to go and do our own thing, but He’ll allow us to make our own mistakes.”
“I guess.”
“Think about it this way. Every day, we see kids choosing the life of crime even though their parents are good, upstanding people. Were there as hands-on parents. Did everything they could to provide for the kids. Family dinners together, family vacations and all the usual, but the kids still turn out to be rapists or thieves or murderers, right?”
“Yeah. Nobody said it was the parents’ fault the kids went bad.”
“Exactly.” Brody smiled.
Huh? “I’m not following you.”
“Well, God’s our heavenly Father. Mine, yours . . . everybody’s. But when we choose to go bad and do bad things, it’s on us, not our Father.” Brody grinned. “Get it?”
“Yeah. I follow you. Just not sure I buy it.”
“Hey, I’m not selling it. Just telling you how it is.”
Brody’s computer beeped.
He clicked and then scrolled. “Well, isn’t this interesting.”
“What?”
“Just got my query on Dimitri Taras back.”
Julian reached for his key chain. “And?”
“You already know a lot of it. Coming to Russia. Dancing. Linked romantically to Nina Montgomery, then Nadia Paley.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“Here’s the interesting bits. Seems Mr. Taras had been looking for Nina. Privately.”
This was interesting. “When?” Julian asked.
“Starting a decade ago.”
“Really? Any idea what prompted it?”
“I don’t know. But he’s kept the file open. All extremely confidential.” Brody leaned back in his chair.
“Where’s Dimitri now?”
“Still has his primary residence in New York. He travels a lot. To Russia. Has financial ties to many ballet companies and academies. Funds a lot of troupes. He has season tickets to several dance companies.”
