I put in calls to all of the numbers I had for Max. And waited.
But the airwaves remained silent.
I didn’t want to believe the worst, despite Joe Rizzo’s allegations. But it wasn’t looking good. Maybe Ryder had been spot on when he’d warned me to avoid Chernov. I hated the idea of listening to Ryder and his “I told you so” comments.
Restless and unable to make sense of anything, I decided to leave one more message for Max. “It’s Becca. I know about the Russian mafia and the drugs. We need to …” Voice mail cut me off. Evidently, Max hadn’t been picking up his messages.
“You don’t look happy.”
Granddad sat down in his recliner, and Higgins immediately jumped on his lap and curled around until he found just the right place to nest.
“It’s this investigation.”
Uh-oh. That’ll teach me to speak before thinking.
“Becca, you better not be involved in something dangerous. Leave this to the police.” Granddad rubbed Higgins. The cat purred and closed its eyes.
“The police have the wrong person in custody. Again. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“Sure you can. It’s how you live to a ripe old age. Worrying and fretting will get you nowhere.”
Okay, who stole my granddad and replaced him with this mellowed out clone?
“You should meditate like I do. They brought someone in to church to teach the seniors. It works. I went over to Louisa Mae’s last night, and we meditated together.”
The thought of Granddad and the widow Alcott-Smith doing anything together disturbed me more than I’d like to admit. “What do you know about the Russian mafia?” I pinged to a new subject to erase unwanted mental images.
“I read the papers.”
“No, I mean what have you heard at the barbershop or in church or one of your men’s groups?”
He looked at me for a long time before replying. “Do you think the Russians are mixed up in these deaths?”
“I don’t know. But it has come up.”
“Have you told the police? Or Edna’s lawyer?”
“I don’t have enough concrete evidence to do that. But as soon as I do…”
“Not good enough. You can’t mess with these people. They’ll kill you just as soon as look at you.”
Richmond had a high murder rate, but I couldn’t believe the Russians were responsible for that. At least, not all of it. True, a lot of the deaths were drug-related and if the Russians were behind the drugs, then maybe most could be credited to them.
“Becca, I recognize that look. I forbid you to continue this crusade you’re on. You’re going to wind up getting hurt. Or worse.”
Granddad dumped his beloved cat on the floor and came to stand by my chair. “Promise me that you’ll give up this investigation of yours.”
I couldn’t do that. As much as I wanted to put his mind at ease, I knew I had to follow this to the end. Wherever it took me.
“Becca, promise me.”
What was one more lie today?
“Sure, Granddad.” I hadn’t technically said the word promise.
“I want to hear you say it.”
Damn. He knew me too well. “Promise.” I crossed my fingers. Once I solved these murders, he would be proud of me, Daley & Palmer could get back to business, and Edna could resume her life without adding a prison jumpsuit to her permanent wardrobe. We could all rest easier. And Mrs. Alcott-Smith could go back to Atlanta.
Four hours later, I still hadn’t heard from Max. Restless and worried about a lot of things, I decided to visit Edna in jail. Maybe she knew something about her husband’s drug habits or who he dealt with. A name, a clue. Anything.
I was desperate.
Besides, I wanted to know what the police had on her.
When she came into the visitor’s room, it struck me how much this latest arrest had taken out of her.
Her hair was unkempt and fell about her face in limp strands. Her pale face bore no traces of the flawless makeup she usually wore. In a word, she looked beaten.
“Edna.” Her name caught in my throat. I cleared it and tried again. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s over, Becca. I give up.” Her voice was defeat personified.
“Of course it isn’t over. I’m here to help you. And I won’t give up until the killer is behind bars and you’re free.”
She tried to summon a smile but it faded before it reached her lips. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m afraid this time the evidence is overwhelmingly against me.”
“You didn’t do it, did you?” I asked, alarmed.
She shook her head no.
“Not that it matters. My attorney says they have a very solid case against me.”
“Jack is an idiot,” I announced a shade too loudly.
Edna leaned back in her chair and the guard came toward me. I put my fingers to my lips to signify that I’d be quiet and behave.
The guard resumed his post by the door.
“Mr. Clemmons is my criminal defense attorney. Jack tried his best. It’s just not his area of expertise. But he is a dear boy.”
“That dear boy is a jerk. I should know.” Oh boy, there I went again, giving more information than I should.
Edna stared at me, apparently waiting for clarification.
“It doesn’t matter what I think of Jack or anyone else. What do the police have on you?”
Edna folded her hands primly on the table that separated us. “My prints were all over Anna Blake’s house.”
I did a double-take. How could that be? Had someone cleverly lifted a set of Edna’s prints and sprinkled them at the murder scene to incriminate her?
“A few of the neighbors saw my car and heard the tail end of the argument when I left. Anna was not the most civilized of people. When angry, she had a voice that could raise the dead.” Out of habit, Edna reached for her neck to finger the ever-present strand of pearls that weren’t there.
“You saw Anna the night she died?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Afraid so. There were things I had to clear up with her.” Edna’s expression revealed her distaste.
“What things?”
“It doesn’t matter, dear. I can tell you though that she was very much alive when I left her.”
“Then Mr. Clemmons can get those neighbors who saw you to testify to that.”
Edna shook her head.
“I’m afraid someone walking their dog saw my car back in the neighborhood later. Near the time of death, I’m told.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This meant that Edna not only had a motive but opportunity. “Why did you go back?”
“You know how it is when you leave an argument unfinished. You want a resolution. You want closure. I knew in my heart that I’d never have it as long as that … that woman was alive. But I swear, as much as I hated her, I didn’t kill her. You’ve got to believe me. I know it looks bad. But I couldn’t kill anyone. Even her.”
I studied Edna’s watery eyes and saw the pain that lingered there and something more. I saw the truth. She was either a consummate liar, or she was telling me the truth. I chose to believe the latter.
“I want to help you. Please let me try.”
“That’s very sweet, dear. But with Robert gone and my life in shambles, I just don’t have the energy to fight anymore. Maybe I am somehow to blame for their deaths. If they’d just gone away together…” Her voice trailed off, and I could see that she had mentally left the room.
I had to get her back. “You’re an honest woman. I know you’re feeling guilty about what’s happened. But you didn’t cause this. You were only trying to hang onto your husband. Nothing you’ve done has brought about these deaths. There’s a murderer out there. If not stopped, he or she could kill again. I want to make sure that doesn’t happen. And although you’re happy to wear that hair shirt right now and wallow in guilt, guilt I might add that you don’t deserve, I’m not. I want to get to the bottom of this. Your mother and my grandfather are worried sick about you. Not to mention Dr. Dick. The man is going to need a psychiatrist of his own before this is all over.”
“Dickie shouldn’t worry.”
“Well, Dickie is. And you need to help me so I can bring relief to these people and get you out of here.”
She stared off into space and I could tell I was losing her. I tried again. “If not for yourself, think about the people who love you. Think about a murderer getting off scot-free because you’re rolling over. Think!”
She sighed and I knew I had her back again. “What can I do to help you?”
That was more like it.
“You can answer a few questions.”
“If I can.”
Not the cooperation and enthusiasm I was hoping for, but it would have to do. “Were you aware that your husband was involved with drugs?”
“That’s absurd.”
“I have credible information that he supplied Anna with drugs.”
“That woman!”
I rushed on. “What do you know about the Russians or the Russian mafia?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Just what I read in the papers or hear on the news.”
“Anyone with a foreign accent ever contact Robert?”
“Not that I remember.”
Great. Another dead end.
She pursed her lips.
“Unless…”
I sat on the edge of my chair and leaned forward to hear her soft voice. “Yes?”
“I did find an entry Robert wrote in our personal checkbook before he died, an entry made out to a D. Ivanov. When I questioned him about it, he told me it was a donation and not to worry about it.”
“Ivanov? And you don’t know the first name? Just the initial D?”
“Yes. That’s all. I’m sorry I don’t have more. It may be nothing.”
Nothing? No, I didn’t think so. Now I needed Max more than ever.