by Joanne Pence
To Rebecca, Carlyle’s manipulations made him the worst villain of them all.
o0o
It was four forty-five a.m. before she reached Richie’s house.
She entered as quietly as she could, surprised that Spike didn’t come running to her.
When she walked into the living room, she saw why. Spike opened one eye, looked at her, then shut it again. He was curled up on Richie’s stomach. Richie was sprawled on the sofa, his head on a pillow placed atop the sofa’s arm, one foot on the floor, and one arm hanging off the side.
She picked up Spike, then shook Richie’s shoulder. “Come on, sleepyhead. You need to go to bed. You’ll be miserable tomorrow trying to sleep this way.”
He barely opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Almost five.”
He slowly sat up. “Did everything turn out okay?”
“I guess. More plea deals, I’m afraid. I’m getting really sick of them. Anyway, we’ll talk more about it in the morning. Also about Nina. I haven’t heard a word from Eastwood, and I’m worried about her.”
“Me, too,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “She’s a sweet kid.”
“It’s late. Go to bed, that’s where I’m headed.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh, really?”
She grinned. “My bed. And alone. Spike excepted.”
“I think it’s already morning,” he grumbled. “And I’ve been thrown over for a mutt.”
CHAPTER 29
Richie was already up and looking surprisingly fresh when Rebecca wandered into the kitchen. She had set her alarm for nine, and then took a shower and got dressed, hoping to feel somewhat awake before she faced the day. It wasn’t working.
“Just in time,” he said. “There’s coffee. I’m making French toast. How many slices?”
“Two would be great.” She noticed he no longer asked if she wanted to eat. He had learned she was pretty much always ready for food. She was going to have to spend twice as long at the gym this week, however, to make up for missing so many days while staying with Richie.
She sipped some of the hot coffee and gave him a quick run-down of the non-confidential information from the police station the night before. Before she knew it, the French toast was on the table. He even gave her a glass of grapefruit juice. How did he know it was her favorite?
“I’ll have to let Yuri know he’s no longer a suspect in Karen’s murder,” she said, “but I don’t know how to tell him Charkov took Nina. If he goes after Charkov, he’ll be killed.”
“It’ll be best to stay away from them both a while longer,” Richie said.
“Why?”
“Sometimes good things happen.”
“And sometimes what happens is bad.”
Richie shook his head. “You’re so nega—”
At that moment, Richie’s doorbell rang. It was Vito. He handed Richie two cases of Silvio’s wine, and then went back down the stairs to the truck he had parked in Richie’s driveway. The truck looked familiar to Rebecca, and then she realized it was the one she had seen in Mulford Alley a few days ago. Just what was going on?
Another truck pulled up behind it, and men began moving the cases from Vito’s truck to the stranger’s.
Richie put the wine in the kitchen, then went outside to meet the other driver. When the wine was all in the other truck, the driver handed Richie a wad of cash. Richie counted it, and then gave Vito a big chunk of it.
Next, the other driver left, and Vito took off in an empty truck.
Rebecca watched all this dumbfounded. “What’s going on?” she asked when Richie came back inside. “I thought you were using Silvio’s wine to get the ABC to harass Charkov.”
“Not all of it. It’s too good to waste. And I finally figured out what to do with it,” Richie said. “I know a fellow who owns a winery and has all the necessary licenses. So, I sold him Silvio’s wine. The winery will put their own label on it. Silvio agreed since the winery is paying him a hefty price. And I’m making a good profit as the middle man.”
“But …”
He looked puzzled. “But what?”
She easily came up with several dozen reasons why what they were doing was … if not illegal, skirting the limits. On the other hand, not a single reason really mattered. Silvio’s wine was great. Now, the public could buy it, and Silvio and Richie both made some money. “Good thinking,” she said.
He grinned. “We’ll make a goomba out of you yet.”
Just then, Richie’s phone rang. It was Shay. He had found Nina.
o0o
The prior evening, after Shay left Tiburon and accompanied Richie on some other business, he decided to watch Charkov. After all, it was Saturday night, not a time for a high-rolling mobster to sit home and watch sit-coms on TV.
Shay had been right. Charkov went to the home of a young woman, and a short while later, some other Russians arrived with a baby’s high chair.
Charkov stayed until one a.m.
Shay kept watching. At times, he saw a woman walk in front of a window holding a young child. The woman looked like not much more than a child herself—young enough to be Charkov’s granddaughter, but Shay suspected she was his mistress.
Shay remained all night. He hadn’t seen any of Charkov’s men show up that morning, and thought it might be a safe time to rescue the child, although he hadn’t been able to verify that she was Nina. He gave Richie the Sunset district address, just south of Golden Gate Park.
“I’ll be right there,” Richie said. He hung up and faced Rebecca. “You probably have things to do at work. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Like hell,” she said. “This isn’t your fight.”
“Charkov made it mine when he went after you. It could be ugly, or worse,” Richie said. “We don’t know if anyone else is there with her, watching both the baby and the mistress, and we aren’t even sure the child is Nina.”
“True, but if she is, you two have no right to take her. I do have the right—this badge gives it to me. You aren’t going there without me.”
Richie knew she was correct. Also, if something unexpected happened, she was better trained to help Shay than he was. In fact, he had scarcely been trained at all in such things, which could be why the thought of going to Charkov’s mistress’s house scared him. He had an uneasy feeling about this. There were too many unknowns, but he also knew why Shay felt they should hurry.
Things were breaking quickly, and if the child was moved, they might lose her forever.
“Okay,” he said, “but for God’s sake, be careful.”
They met Shay on the corner, and the three walked to a small two-story house. Rebecca rang the bell.
A young woman answered. Rebecca stared at her, shocked. She remembered Baranski telling her Charkov liked young girls. This one was sixteen at most. Her face might have been pretty, but it was unwashed, as was her long, dark brown stringy hair which looked knotted and mussed. Her dress was a loose, dirty smock over a stick-like figure. Most disturbing, however, was the hollow look in her dark eyes, as if she had no life and no hope left in her.
“I’m here to for Nina Baranski,” Rebecca said.
“Who?”
“The baby!”
“You can’t have her!”
“What’s your name?” Rebecca asked.
“Maryusha Ivanova,” she replied.
“Where’s the girl?” Rebecca’s voice was loud and forceful. She kept moving forward, waving her badge, as she talked. Maryusha kept backing up until Rebecca reached the living room. A playpen was in its center. “Have you hurt her?”
“No. I would never. She’s my little sister. When she gets older, she will be my friend.”
Rebecca’s tone turned harsh, threatening. “Show us where she is, Maryusha. I won’t ask again.”
They heard a toddler’s cry from upstairs. “You can’t take her!” Maryusha screamed. “She’s mine!”
Rebecca pushed past Maryusha and ran up. “Wait!”
Shay called, running after her.
Maryusha started shrieking and Richie yelled at her to zip it shut.
At the top of the stairs was a small hallway. The door to one bedroom was open, and a crib was against the far wall. “It’s her!” Rebecca picked up the child and then reached for her bottle and diaper bag.
Shay went into the other bedroom to be sure the room was clear when shots rang out. Rebecca froze, pulling Nina close and taking the Glock from her holster.
She watched Shay back out of the bedroom as a heavy-set Russian, one of the men who attacked her at Charkov’s house, stumbled after him into the hallway clutching his chest. Blood gushed through his hands. Then he fell forward, and no longer moved.
Shay glanced at Rebecca. Both nodded that they were all right, when they heard a shot fired downstairs.
Shay ran down, Rebecca right behind him. She was almost at the bottom when she heard Shay’s chilling shout. “No!”
She reached the living room. Richie lay face down on the floor.
“My God!” Rebecca cried, but stopped in the doorway, turning her body to protect Nina from Maryusha, who stood in the back of the room, gun in hand.
Shay coldly lifted his pistol to kill her, but Maryusha’s gun dropped, and she collapsed to her knees, moaning and rocking.
Rebecca put the baby in the playpen and ran to Richie, relieved to see he was moving, trying to sit up. Shay held his pistol on the distraught woman as he grabbed her firearm and then he, too, inched towards Richie.
Rebecca dropped to Richie’s side and helped ease him back against the wall. “Son of a bitch!” he muttered through gritted teeth. “It’s my arm.”
“Stay still and let me see.” She helped remove his jacket. His shirt sleeve was red with blood. She had no patience for buttons and pulled so hard most flew off as she opened the shirt and slid it off his shoulder to see the wound.
“How bad is it?” Shay asked.
“The bullet struck the skin on his upper arm and kept going.” She caught Richie’s eyes and saw the pain reflected in them. “You’re lucky.” She ran to the kitchen, found a clean dishtowel, wadded it up and pressed it hard against the wound. At the same time, Shay tied Maryusha’s wrists behind her back and then went upstairs to check on the other Russian.
“Ouch! Damn it!” Richie cried.
“Hold it tight,” she ordered as she removed her hand and let him take over.
He leaned his head back against the wall. “After all the crazy things I’ve done, the one time I try to help a cop, I get shot. What the hell!”
Kneeling beside him, she took out her phone. “Stop!” Richie yelled. “What are you doing?”
She paused, then started to push buttons. “You and the Russian need an ambulance, and she’s going to jail.”
Richie dropped the cloth he had been holding, grabbed her phone and stuck it behind his back before he again pressed the cloth against his wound. “And then Charkov will have to get even with you for arresting his mistress. Right now, she shot me, but we shot one of his men. So we’re all even, okay? Forget about it.”
She was horrified. “No, it’s not okay. That’s not how things work in a civilized society.”
“Who said this is a civilized society?”
“Charkov has gone too far with this kidnapping. This is my chance to get even with him. Eastwood will see that the FBI acts. Charkov won’t be a problem.”
“You have more faith in your boss and the FBI than I do,” he murmured. “You’ve got Nina. Don’t push it with Charkov just in case the Feds aren’t the choirboys you expect them to be. Also, if you get the police involved, remember Shay shot a man, and I was shot by a girl, a teenager, who doesn’t know me, inside her house.”
She knew both would be taken into custody until all this was sorted out. She rubbed her head, not sure what to do.
“Let’s get the hell out of here before someone else shows up,” Richie murmured.
“Charkov’s goon bled out,” Shay announced as he came back into the living room. “Charkov will most likely ditch the body and hustle the woman to another place.”
The death of the Russian meant Shay’s problem might be even worse if the DA decided to prosecute, and she had seen him go after vigilante types more than once.
Rebecca drew in her breath. Shay’s and Richie’s logic was direct and uncomplicated, but to her mind, wrong.
“Hey, you two, I’m still here and bleeding.”
“You need a tourniquet,” Rebecca said. “Damn, why aren’t you wearing a tie today!” She immediately started to unbuckle his belt.
“I’ve thought of this moment a lot, Rebecca,” he muttered, trying not to wince from the pain as she pulled his belt from the loops on his slacks. “But I never imagined it happening this way.”
“You won’t think you’re half so funny when you find out how tight I can make this.”
When Rebecca finished, Shay helped Richie to his feet, and walked with him to Shay’s car.
Rebecca headed for her own, carrying Nina, trying to figure out what to do.
CHAPTER 30
Rebecca drove Nina to Richie’s house while Shay drove Richie. Shay had called Vito to meet them there since he had lots of experience caring for little kids, being the father of five of them. At the same time, Shay would take care of Richie’s bullet wound, since he had lots of experience with them, particularly his own.
Rebecca hovered around Richie until Shay ordered her away. As soon as Vito walked in, she left and drove to her apartment, hoping Yuri would be there.
Instead, she found a note.
Dear Inspector Mayfield,
I heard on news that Karen’s killer was caught. I know it would not have happened without your good help. Thank you.
I hope you will bring Nina to Karen’s parents. They love her and will take good care of her.
I must return to Ukraine. I have done wrong. If I listened to Karen, she would be alive today. She wanted me to return to university, to get my degree in engineering, to be in USA legally. I didn’t listen. But now I will. I must, for Karen and for Nina.
I don't know if I will ever be free of bad men or if I will be able to return to USA, but I am father of an American so perhaps your government will not be too harsh to me.
I hope, one day, Nina will be proud of her father. I know she will be proud of her mother.
Thank you for being a good friend to Karen.
Yuri
Rebecca folded the note and put it in her pocket. The last sentence touched her deeply, and she knew she would never forget it. She also knew it was easy to make plans, and a lot harder to carry them out. She could only hope Yuri’s plans would work out as he dealt with the harsh reality of his situation.
Rebecca then phoned Nina’s grandparents in Santa Rosa and gave them the good news that they could come and get their grandchild. She gave them Richie’s address.
o0o
Rebecca walked into Eastwood’s office, head high, ready to turn in her badge if it came to that. “I found Nina Baranski,” she said. “Her grandparents will take her.”
“How did you do that?” Eastwood roared. “I ordered you to keep away from the Russians.”
“One of my neighbors told me she heard noises in my apartment. I went to investigate, and found the child in a stroller.”
“What? Why?” Eastwood asked, studying her.
She kept her eyes down. “I have no idea. Maybe Charkov realized he had gone too far. And, as you said, it’s up to the FBI to deal with him, not me. At least the child is safe.”
Eastwood’s narrowed as he studied her a long moment. “All right, Mayfield, as you said, the child is safe. I’ll take it from here. Write a statement of what happened, with all the details, then go home until you hear from me. I’m sure the FBI will want to talk to you.”
“I’m sure as well, sir.”
With that, she left his office.
o0o
Rebecca hurried back to Richie’s house. The g
arage door had been left up, so little noise announced her arrival as she walked up the stairs from the garage to enter the house via the kitchen.
As she opened the door, she heard voices from the living room.
Vito and Shay were reading Richie the riot act for his actions that day and the prior evening. Both spoke at the same time. She couldn’t remember ever hearing Shay so animated. Both were asking variations on just who did Richie think he was running around with her the way he’d been doing? She was a cop; she knew how to protect herself. He wasn’t, and he didn’t.
“I worry about her,” Richie said. “She’s too headstrong. She runs towards things that she should run away from.”
“She’s leading the life she wants to lead.” She recognized Vito’s voice. “There’s nothin’ you can do about it, boss.”
“Leave her be,” Shay said. “If she gets herself killed, it’s not your problem.”
Her heart pounded as she waited for Richie’s answer. When it came, his voice was soft, and his words jarred her. “What if I want it to be?” he said.
“Christ Almighty,” was Vito’s reaction.
Shay said nothing.
She waited a few moments longer, then quietly shut the door, loudly stomped on the stairs, and this time, rattled the door as she opened it.
o0o
When Rebecca entered the living room, she could hardly believe she’d been gone only a little more than an hour and a half.
Richie lay on the sofa wearing a short-sleeve blue T-shirt, his arm well bandaged. Shay was on the floor with Nina, showing her how to build what looked like an Uzi out of Legos. Vito sat in a chair looking prideful at the mess all around. A half-eaten bowl of mac and cheese was on the floor beside Nina, with a few pieces of macaroni on the carpet. Another bowl of melted vanilla ice cream was on her opposite side. Around her were three dolls and two toy cars, but it was Shay’s activities that held her rapt attention.
Spike was in front of Nina, happily ripping up a stuffed animal.
