Russian Connection

by Lakes, Lynde

“Did you give his description to the police?”

  “Yes. But I’m not certain they even believe he exists.”

  Glenda took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “After he told you about Luke, then what?”

  “He insisted on going through Luke’s things.”

  “And you let him?” Glenda’s voice rose.

  Nikki laughed without humor. “Are you kidding? I thought he was a cop. Besides, you should have seen the size of that guy.”

  “Big guy, huh?” Glenda leaned forward. “What was he looking for?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think he found it.”

  Glenda breath caught. “Oh, God. Then he might be back.”

  Chapter Six

  Crisp autumn leaves crackled beneath Dayd’s boots as he hurried across Pioneer Park. He inhaled fresh mown grass, barely aware of the scent. He looked around. Good, I’m not being followed. He headed for the bench where Boris Mussorgsky waited. Dayd chuckled. With Boris’s Novgorod-region sunny-fair hair and light eyes, he could pass for one of those California bums that hung out at Muscle Beach—until he spoke, then his thick accent would give him away.

  Boris brought his muscled arm toward his body and scowled at his watch. Oh great, the The Bear was in a nasty mood. Tough. He didn’t have time to walk on egg shells, or apologize for being a couple of minutes late. “What do you have for me?” he asked.

  Boris took a drag on the cigarette that dangled from his mouth, sending smoke curling into his watery, silvery-gray eyes. “Nikki Brown’s former marriage to Luke was a bad bargain. The bastard drained her bank account, just like he did the other women.” Boris spoke in a mixture of Russian and English, a mode he resorted to when angry.

  “Then the widow is innocent,” Dayd said, surprised at how much that pleased him.

  “Not necessarily, my friend. Her innocent act could be a smoke screen. Maybe she allowed Luke access to her money, fronting the cash to finance his Russian scam because she was in on it.”

  Dayd frowned. Nikki Brown didn’t strike him as the world-wise type who would go along with espionage and international crime. He refused to believe she was in on any of it. “Just give me the facts.”

  Boris shrugged. “The divorcee is twenty-six. She works at Norton Airport as an air-flight traffic controller. After earning a degree at Cal State, she spent three years in the Air Force assigned to flight communications. Upon discharge, she entered training at the FAA Aeronautical Center. Within six months she was assistant controller. She just recently qualified as a full controller.”

  Dayd was finding more and more to admire and consider about the spirited widow, and that worried the hell out of him. “Hmmm. Bright and ambitious. How did someone with that much going for her get mixed up with Luke?”

  “That is a red flag question, is it not?” Boris asked.

  Dayd winced. He wasn’t ready to delve into that. When he’d told Nikki that Luke was dead, her large, red-rimmed emerald eyes looked like those of a bewildered kitten who’d been kicked for a second time and didn’t know why. Dayd’s stomach muscle tightened. “Got an ID on Luke’s killer?”

  Boris shook his head. “The relief-bartender gave your description as the one who followed Luke into the alley. There’s even an eyewitness who claims to have seen you standing over the body with a knife in your hand.”

  “The lying bastard. What did he say about the guy sitting with Luke, the one in the low riding baseball cap who lured him into the alley?”

  “He swore Luke was alone,” Boris said.

  “Did anyone recognize you?” He and Boris hadn’t sat together, and Boris had gone out the front door and circled around to the alley when the trouble went down.

  Boris didn’t crack a smile, but his eyes looked amused. “With my superior Russian looks, who could forget me?”

  Dayd sensed a pause as though The Bear was waiting for him to laugh or make a wisecrack. “Could we just stick to the facts?”

  The twinkle faded from Boris’s eyes. “Bottom line. No one connected me to you—or Luke.”

  Dayd clenched his fists. “Dammit, this is what I get for trying to save Luke’s hide.”

  Boris expression remained stoic. “I wonder what that man said to get Luke to go with him.”

  Dayd figured it had to be the promise of a lot of money. Little else motivated Luke. “More important, who was the guy waiting in the alley?”

  “If we had those answers,” Boris said, “maybe we could figure out the rest.”

  Setup flashed in Dayd’s mind like a red neon light and his mind snapped back to the night of Luke’s murder. It had been almost dawn when Luke left the all-night club and stepped into the alley. The guy he’d been drinking with followed him. Dayd had a bad feeling about the guy and followed both of them. A big guy waiting in the shadows jumped Luke. Before Dayd could stop him, the guy thrust a knife into Luke’s heart. Luke’s drinking companion watched and then ran with the killer to a waiting Buick with mud-covered license plates. Both men got in and sped away. Dayd rushed to Luke’s side. But it was too late. Luke had died instantly.

  “We may never know exactly who lured him outside or who killed him,” Dayd said. “But we both know Ivan Godunov was behind it.”

  “Dah,” Boris said. “Luke learned the hard way that Godunov isn’t an easy mark like the trusting women and American businessmen he fleeced.” Boris handed Dayd an envelope. “This is the information on Glenda Hollinger. Nothing unusual. What is unusual is Luke’s friendship with Jimmy Addison. Luke would not befriend a teenager unless he could use him some way.”

  “Suspicious son-of-a-gun, aren’t you?”

  Boris’s deadpan expression didn’t change. “It is part of my charm.”

  Dayd laughed. Boris had less charm than Godzilla around men. But to women, he was a golden-haired enigma that they very much wanted to know. “Okay,” Dayd said. “Stay on the kid. See if he’s into drugs, or spends big money.”

  Boris stood and hesitated. “I think he knows who Luke’s new woman is. Our man Nazar took pictures of the teenager with Luke and a blonde the day before the murder.”

  “I’ll talk to the kid,” Dayd said.

  Boris cracked his knuckles and flexed his biceps. “I could do it.”

  Dayd snickered. “You’d only scare him.”

  “Maybe he needs scaring.”

  “Let’s try it my way.”

  “You are the boss,” Boris said, his mouth working to conceal a grin. “What is next, my friend?”

  “I have to get back into Luke’s apartment. If the disks are there, I have to find them.”

  “How? By now the widow knows you are not a cop.”

  “I didn’t say getting back inside would be easy.”

  Boris stamped out his cigarette under his heavy black boots. “Be careful. Remember, she could be a Crpax plant.”

  Heat shot up Dayd’s neck. “First you hint that she may be part of Luke’s operation; now you say she might be in with Godunov. Make up your mind.”

  “It is prudent to consider all possibilities.”

  Boris was right. Still, Dayd felt the need to defend her. “She didn’t seem to know much about her husband’s business, just that he sold computers and software.”

  “If she is not a plant, my friend, even knowing that much may get her killed.”

  Dayd slammed his fist into his palm. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Chapter Seven

  Ivan Godunov, the silver-haired kingpin of Crpax, a deadly splinter branch of the Russian mafia, playfully slapped the platinum blonde’s well-rounded bottom. With a morning romp under his belt to jump-start his blood, he was ready to take on the day. “Go now, krahcee’vo,” he told Margo, aptly calling her beautiful. “I wish to talk to Pyotr (Peter) in private.”

  He enjoyed the shock on Peter Ziyakbusky’s ugly pocked face as Margo rose, revealing slender legs reaching nearly up to her waist, and brazenly sauntered naked out of the room.

  Ivan poured himself some coffe
e and laced it with a shot of Skyy vodka. “She is something, is she not?”

  Peter’s eyes bugged out. Lucky for him he was too smart to comment. Ivan laughed. Margo’s lack of modesty was a contradiction. She had the face of an angel, and the morals of an alley cat.

  He had met her ten years ago when she was a thirteen-year-old prostitute working a New York street corner. She was too pretty and too smart to be a street girl. He’d set her up with Madame Petra Fyodor, whom he’d met years earlier in Moscow. The arrangement was simple. The girl got a monthly retainer to be his exclusive property when he was in the United States. He needed to be surrounded only with people he trusted, and he’d trained and molded Margo Bettmore into one of those people. Only once had she crossed him, and it cost her two little toes and a great deal of pain. She knew which two body parts would go next if she opposed him again.

  “Our local operative lured Luke into the alley, and I iced him,” Peter boasted.

  Heat shot up the column of Ivan’s neck. “You fool! You were supposed to keep him alive until you had the disks.”

  Peter swallowed hard. “I can explain. I had to stop Luke from getting away. If he went underground, it might have taken us years to find him. Remember Boris Mussorgsky’s escape?”

  Ivan hadn’t forgotten, or forgiven the man responsible, Dayd Radlavich. “So Luke is dead. Now what?”

  “I have compiled a list of his women.” Peter glanced toward the door that Margo had exited. “Women get close to men. They learn things. Besides the others, there is an ex-wife and a mistress. One of them will know about the disks.”

  “A pity for her, nyet?” Ivan asked, but he felt only impatience.

  Chapter Eight

  Nikki made preliminary arrangements for Luke’s burial based upon Detective Sinclair’s best estimate of when he could release the body. It was ridiculous that an ex-wife should be stuck with the arrangements. Unfortunately, she had no knowledge of any family or loved ones to call. So, she was it in the game of Luke tag.

  An hour later, she met Glenda at the Golden Arches on Highland and Del Rosa avenues for a quick burger. Fridays had been their restaurant night, but when they worked opposite schedules, they had to make do with a quick meal at a fast food place. The aromas of burgers and fries wafting on the air made her empty stomach growl. The buzz of the crowd talking, laughing and the sound of chair legs scooting about hit her like a ton of bricks and she rubbed her head.

  “What’s a matter, sweetie?” Glenda asked as they hugged. “You look like someone stole your Haagen-Dazs. More trouble?”

  Nikki hadn’t realized she was frowning until then. She didn’t want to discuss Luke’s funeral or her irritation. She pasted on a smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Yeah, right,” Glenda said as they got in line to order their food. “Always the rock. Remember even boulders get washed away in flash floods.”

  “Flash floods?” Nikki laughed. “Been the sunniest Friday we could ask for.”

  “Yeah, get literal on me.”

  They went silent as they stood in line. It didn’t take long to get their fish meals. They seated themselves at a nearby table and dug into their bounty. Glenda swirled her French fry in a pool of disgusting looking catsup then pointed the limp thing at Nikki. “Have you asked the cops for protection?”

  “The police don’t even believe Radlavich exists. They still think I had something to do with Luke’s murder.”

  “Look, Girlfriend, you can’t stay alone. Mr. Dangerous didn’t find what he was after, and we both know that means he’ll be back. I get off at midnight. I’ll pack a quick bag and be at your place shortly after. I’ve got my key. I won’t even wake you. Okay?”

  Nikki thought of Radlavich’s intimidating height and demeanor, his dark, smoldering eyes. “I’ll wait up and have bacon and eggs ready.” She knew Glenda usually ate before going to bed when she worked the late shift. Her work as a crisis-control nurse usually had her too keyed up to sleep without a winding-down period.

  “Breakfast after midnight. Sounds like a title of a book, doesn’t it?” Glenda’s fixed her steady, coffee-brown eyes, with pupils as big as giant onyx marbles, on Nikki. “Promise me you won’t even answer the door until I get there.”

  Nikki chuckled. “That’ll put a real damper on my active social life.”

  “Humor me. I have bad vibes about that guy.”

  Glenda mirrored her own fears.

  Nikki’s forced light mood faded and she shivered. They sat silently for a few moments, Glenda staring straight ahead. “Hey, what’s with that kid over there?” she said. “I think the brat just snapped a picture of us.”

  From a distance, the child appeared to be between five and seven years old. “I think he’s the tyke I’ve seen around the apartments a lot lately. He must’ve just had a birthday and is trying out his gifts. The last time I saw him he had binoculars trained on me.”

  Nikki smiled and waved at him. “He’s a cute little guy, isn’t he?”

  “He has old eyes,” Glenda said flatly.

  “Old eyes.” Nikki laughed. “What do you mean old eyes?”

  “I don’t know. He gives me the creeps.”

  “That’s not like you. You love children as much as I do.”

  “Not that one.” Glenda tapped the table with her nails. “Maybe he’s one of those evil seeds, like those kids in that horror flick we saw last week.”

  “You’re really in a weird mood, aren’t you?”

  Nikki glanced again toward the table where the boy had been sitting, but he’d disappeared.

  “Speaking of moods,” Glenda said, her face suddenly aglow. “A certain new EMT who comes into emergency really rings my chimes. He’s a tall, well-built, Denzel Washington type, with a nice smile and a real caring personality.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “Hospital coffee shop. Dr. Cornnell introduced us. But we hardly got to talk. He had to leave right away. Freeway pile up. I’m thinking of fainting or something, just to have an excuse to call for an ambulance.”

  “A little drastic. Next time he brings someone in, just walk by. With that saunter of yours, he’ll be drooling to ask you out.”

  They laughed, but as she and Glenda parted and went their own ways, Nikki’s thoughts returned to Dayd Radlavich. She rubbed her arms as a cold uneasiness settled over her. Who was he really?

  She stopped at the market to pick up some eggs. She had plenty of bacon and bread for toast, but seldom had eggs in the house. Fruit was her mainstay.

  An edgy sensation of being watched made her scan the parking lot. The people coming and going didn’t even glance in her direction. Nikki put the groceries in the trunk of her car and headed home. She switched on her lights. A banner over the road advertised an Oktoberfest party up the hill at Porgie’s Place in Running Springs. Before their marriage, Luke had taken her there. They’d drunk beer and eaten wienerschnitzel and sauerkraut. She’d been surprised and thrilled that Luke could polka with the best of them. She’d loved the man she thought he was. Why couldn’t he have been that man?

  Nikki punched the radio to a news station. The newscaster was talking about current economic conditions in Russia. She felt sure now that her ex had been killed because of his connections in the foreign markets. Accepting that answer didn’t make his death any less unnerving.

  She stiffened at a sound in the backseat. Had she locked the car when she went into the market? She’d forgotten to look for someone hiding in the backseat when she came out. Oh God, she knew to check before getting into her car. Her throat went dry.

  Nikki speeded up and swung into the first gas station. She leapt from the car.

  “Fill ‘er up, Miss?” the attendant asked.

  She pointed to the car with a trembling hand. “There’s someone in my backseat.”

  The attendant picked up a tire iron and eased toward the car. Nikki grabbed the closest thing, a spray bottle with washer-fluid, and followed.

  He yank
ed open the back door.

  Nikki’s face burned. The backseat and floorboard were empty except for a flashlight that had apparently rolled from the seat where she’d left it a couple of days ago. It must’ve shifted to the floor when she pulled out of the market.

  They laughed and he kidded her about her washer-fluid gun. Her face got hotter. “It was the only thing handy,” she said, smiling. “Better something than nothing.”

  He shook his head.

  She offered a lame apology, bought the expensive gas with full service, then handed the guy a five buck tip to make it up to him. Luke’s murder and Radlavich’s visit had left her more edgy than she realized. It wasn’t like her to be paranoid. She had to cool it.

  The lights in the apartment’s parking lot were dim, and the walkway to her unit, lined with trees and drooping leafy limbs, was mostly in shadows. Nikki looked ahead at the darkened border of thick bushes that lined her path. She fought a tremor, refusing to let herself get all worked up again. A branch cracked behind her. Her stomach knotted. She walked quickly, alert to anything that stirred.

  By the time she let herself into the apartment her heart was pounding wildly. The ceiling entry light, controlled by an automatic timer, had never seemed so dim. She dropped the bags on the counter and double-locked the door.

  “Glad to see you’re so cautious,” a deep voice murmured.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. She whirled to face a tall man standing in the shadowy darkness between her kitchen and living room. Nikki gasped. “Radlavich. How did you get in here?”

  Chapter Nine

  Dayd stepped out of the shadows, watching Nikki for any wrong move. She shifted her upper body to the left, but stepped to the right and dashed around the table toward the phone, auburn hair flying. He blocked her.

  “Feign and fake. Good move, Mrs. Brown, but not good enough.”

  She started to scream. He clamped his hand over her mouth. “You’re not acting very helpful. You do want to help me, don’t you?” He looked down into unblinking eyes, feeling like a rotten bully. “Just nod your head.”