I stared at the cell phone willing it to ring without success. Damn Max. He said he’d be there for me if I needed him. And I needed him now like never before. Flipping open the phone with a flick of my wrist, I punched in the single-digit code I’d created for Chernov. Yes, I’d resorted to putting his number on speed-dial, I’d called it so often. He was number 3, right behind Granddad, and moving up quickly.
“Max, it’s Becca. Again. If you won’t help me, I’m going to have to go see Mr. Ivanov alone.”
I flipped the phone closed and waited.
Within two minutes the phone trilled to Lara’s Theme from Dr. Zhivago, the ring tone I’d picked for my elusive Russian.
“Yes?”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Max’s voice came across the airwaves, his accent deep and measured.
“No.”
“Do not attempt to meet with Ivanov. You have no idea what you’re up against.” It sounded like he spoke through clenched teeth.
“I’ll be fine,” I bluffed.
“Becca,” he started and then the line went silent. I thought for sure I’d lost the call, and then he resumed, “If you’re that determined, I’ll take you to Dmitri. Where are you now?” He muttered something else under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out. It sounded Russian. It sounded pissed.
“I’m at my granddad’s house.”
“Stay there. I’m about ten minutes away.” The phone went silent.
I smiled. Dmitri Ivanov. I did a quick Internet search and came up with nothing. Not that I’d expected to find anything, but one can always hope.
Higgins twined around my legs in an uncharacteristically loving move. Hmm, must be hungry. The more time Granddad spent with Louisa Mae, the more Higgins showered his affection on whoever would open that can of food. If he’d had opposing thumbs, he’d be one happy cat.
Popping a top on a can of smelly fish food that sent Higgins into purr central, I dumped the foul-smelling mixture into his bowl and quickly washed and dried my hands. The sound of Max’s car in the driveway sent me scurrying for my purse. And I was out the door without a backward glance.
Max got out and opened the passenger door for me and closed it just shy of a slam once I settled in.
Even angry, he managed to look good.
A furrow creased his usually smooth forehead. When he settled those dark brown eyes on me, I almost lost my nerve and confessed that when it came to Ivanov, I was clueless, but an image of Edna in her prison clothes flashed through my mind and I jutted my chin forward. “Well, are we going to sit here all day?”
Max put the car into reverse and we sped out of the driveway. The atmosphere in the car remained tense and I chose to look out the window instead of attempt conversation.
The scenery blurred and I checked the speedometer. It would be a miracle if Max avoided a ticket. But I had to give him credit for being a competent, albeit fast, driver.
Max hit the interstate and wove through traffic finally taking the 5th Street off-ramp into downtown Richmond. After a series of turns, we stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse in Shockoe Bottom. Parts of the Bottom had been reclaimed and housed some of the popular nightspots in the city. But where we were had been untouched by the wave of progress that had revitalized the rest of the area.
“Let me do the talking, Becca.”
He turned in the seat to face me and his expression left no room for argument. I gave a quick nod, secretly relieved to have him take the lead.
“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He slipped on dark shades even though there wasn’t an ounce of sunshine anywhere to be seen.
While I made my way across the cobblestone street to his side, Max knocked in a series of staccato beats on a door that appeared to be ready to fall off of its hinges. Rapid Russian followed the special knock and then Max kicked the bottom of the decrepit door twice.
To my complete surprise, the door opened and a burly guy in a black leather jacket opened it and embraced Max in a tight bear hug. I hung back a couple of steps while they spoke in low, hushed tones that I couldn’t quite make out. But then I probably wouldn’t have understood them if they’d spoken in normal voices.
You know. Russian and all that.
“Becca, come.” Max waved to me and we entered the darkened building.
“Was that Dmitri?”
Max stopped suddenly. “Ivanov doesn’t open doors, but then you’d know that if you’d done your homework.” He strode ahead not waiting for a reply. I had to hurry to catch up with him and at the same time be mindful of the old wide pine flooring beneath my feet. Falling flat on my face was not something I wanted to do. Not in front of Max and certainly not in front of Dmitri Ivanov.
After what seemed like forever, Max stopped in front of a shiny black interior door. The warehouse was as dark as a moonless night and I had a horrible time seeing anything. How Max managed with the sunglasses escaped comprehension. He did that secret knock thing again and a huge giant of a man opened the door. Ah, Ivanov at last. But other than being big, this guy didn’t appear to be anything special.
“Gregor, is he in?” Max asked and the big guy moved away from the doorway following us in. I edged past him.
The contrast between the rest of the warehouse and the office we entered was dramatic. The room was huge, yet also light and airy despite the lack of windows. Expensive ivory wallpaper covered the walls. Artwork hung throughout the space, each painting lit from above. I gawked when I spotted a very convincing copy of a Monet. The original hung in a museum. Or at least I thought I’d read that it did. Now I wondered.
Ivanov—and this had to be Ivanov—rose from behind a heavy and intricately carved wooden desk. He wasn’t a big man, but what he lacked in size he more than made up for with his personality. Power and danger poured off him like cheap perfume and I experienced the same choking reaction. One glance into his cold blue eyes told me this man could, would, and definitely had killed. I wanted to cower behind Max. Instead, I forced my shoulders back and threw out what little bosom I possessed.
Breathe, I reminded myself, while you still can.
“Max, my boy. So good of you to come. And who have you brought to see me?” Dmitri trained his gaze on me and it felt as if his eyes pierced my body as he examined me from head to toe.
“Becca is a good friend of mine,” Max replied, standing at what looked like attention to me, as a subordinate might to an officer until told to relax.
“Becca. That’s a strange name.” Ivanov selected a cigar from a box on his desk and fingered it. “But then you Americans and your names…”
“It’s short for Rebecca.”
I stepped forward. Max held out his arm to restrain me from moving any closer to Ivanov.
“Rebecca. Much better. I will call you Rebecca.” He lit the cigar and blew smoke in our direction. Max didn’t flinch. My eyes watered, and I couldn’t suppress the cough the smoke triggered.
Ah, this bothers the young lady. You’ll get used to it.” Ivanov continued puffing on the cigar and appeared amused, a look I translated as I’d either get used to it or I’d get dead. “Where are my manners? Sit, sit. Gregor make sure our guests are comfortable.”
Max must have taken this to mean he could stand down because I could feel some of the coiled tension escape his body. We took seats in straight-backed chairs that Gregor moved in front of the desk.
“So my dear Max, what brings you to my door?” Ivanov’s blue eyes opened wider, and he smiled without warmth.
I sensed Gregor’s presence behind my chair and felt trapped between him and Ivanov. The hairs on my arms stood on end. Instinctively I knew that under no circumstances should I show the fear racing through my body.
“We need your help with Robert and Anna’s murders,” I blurted out. Oh no. Oh no, I didn’t. But it was my voice. I recognized it, and obviously, Max did too because he stared at me like I’d turned into the ugliest crone in the universe and grown a witch’s nose, wart and all.
Ivanov leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. Max continued to glare at me but remained silent.
“And Rebecca why do you think I can be of help?” Ivanov asked in a pseudo-benign voice.
“Because you’re connected,” I replied and winced when I heard the groan escape Max’s lips.
“Am I? Gregor, did you realize I was connected? What does that mean?”
Gregor shifted closer to me, so close I was practically breathing for him. I felt him shrug in response to Ivanov’s question.
“Gregor and I are both at a loss, Rebecca. Perhaps you can enlighten us.”
“The girl knows nothing. She has misspoken,” Max said and clamped a hand tight on my wrist to restrain me from moving or talking. I guess he’d come to the conclusion that I used my hands a lot when I talked and that unfortunate characteristic might lead to even more unfortunate consequences.
“Murder is such an ugly word. There is enough unpleasantness in the world today without such talk. Don’t you agree, Max?” Ivanov reached for a pen and wrote something on a piece of paper.
“Becca found O’Malley’s body. She still isn’t over the shock. That’s what causes her to speak out of turn.”
Ivanov tsk-tsked, his fleshy lips flapping. “How disturbing for you, my dear. How very disturbing.”
“It was awful,” I volunteered.
“But why come to me?” Ivanov swept his hand through the air. “I like beauty, not ugliness. See my paintings, my furniture? This is how I live. With beauty. Did Max not explain this to you, my little thorn?”
I gulped. I was the “little thorn” to this Russian mob tsar? That couldn’t be good. “No. I mean yes.”
I shook my head to try to clear it.
And reorient myself to the questions I needed to ask.
Max’s strong hand squeezed my wrist. I chose to consider it a show of support.
“Dmitri, I’ve told Becca I would help her.”
“That was most unwise of you, my dear boy. Most unwise.” Ivanov narrowed his gaze and made another notation on the paper.
“She is under my protection, Dmitri.” Max flashed a tight-lipped smile in my direction before returning his gaze to the mob tsar.
“What do you need to know?” Ivanov got down to business.
“We need to know if O’Malley was into drugs and gambling and if he owed money to anyone based on these activities. We need to know who would profit from his death. And then there’s Anna. You remember Anna Blake?” Max arched his eyebrow, and I glanced from him to Ivanov. There was some coded conversation going on here, one I wasn’t privy to.
“Ah, yes, the lovely, but very disturbed Miss Blake. Her death was most,” he paused, “unfortunate.”
“So you did know Anna?” I tried to rise from my chair, but Max continued to restrain me and Ivanov ignored me.
“Anna was many things in her brief and troubled life. She did not deserve to die,” Max countered.
“Do not tell me you’re going soft, Max,” Ivanov said.
“Anna was an innocent in all of this,” Max replied.
Dmitri threw back his head and laughed a full throaty sound. “Innocent? Our Anna? I think not.” He jotted on the paper again and then handed it off to Gregor, who nodded and disappeared.
“Did Anna die because she loved Robert?” I managed to ask before Max could shush me.
“And how would I know that, my little thorn?” Ivanov smiled benevolently at me. I’d never had a smile creep me out more, and I shrank back into the chair as far as I could manage.
“Because Anna told me she watched Robert play poker with you and accompanied Robert to Colonial Downs where he placed large bets on the ponies, bets he couldn’t cover, but you could. He owed you big and you killed him,” I accused.
“Becca!” Max said through gritted teeth.
“So, Rebecca, you think I’m a common murderer?”
“I never said anything about common,” I fired back.
The room fell silent.
Max was the first to recover. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We’re here because you know and hear things. I was hoping you could steer us in the right direction. As a favor to me.”
Dmitri nodded once. “Da. Yes. I believe that is why you came here. Not to insult or accuse me. This child does not understand how things work. That I do understand. I hold you responsible for not properly educating her before bringing her to me. But then you and I go back to another time and place. I am fond of you. You know that. You are here under protection. As is Rebecca. So, all is forgiven. I will pretend that I heard nothing that was said here.” Ivanov smiled another creep-me-out smile and gooseflesh crept up both of my arms.
“How is dear Daisy, Max? I have not seen her for quite some time. I’ve missed her…” Ivanov paused again, searching for a word, before settling on, “gentleness.”
“Leave Daisy out of this.” The anger in Max’s voice sent chills through me the same way Ivanov’s smile did. It was deadly and left no room for interpretation.
Dmitri slammed both of his palms down on the desk causing papers to scatter and trinkets to jump. “Enough!”
“Yes, enough,” Max agreed.
I so wanted to ask what was happening, but this time I knew enough to stay silent.
Self-preservation, sometimes it really did kick in.
“O’Malley owed quite a bit of money in gambling debts. He was a fool. And a terrible gambler. Always in the past, his debts were covered by his wife’s money. With or without her knowledge, I don’t know. Nor do I care. But then he met Anna and her very expensive drug habit. His personal funds were cut off.” He held his right hand up. “I had nothing to do with his death. He left this earth owing me quite a bit of money, which meant he was worth more to me alive than dead, as was Anna. Now I will have to write off all of their debts.”
“That’s a shame,” Max said and I blinked in surprise. “Come, Becca, we should leave. We’ve taken up enough of Dmitri’s time.” Both men rose. Ivanov came around the desk and he and Max embraced. I remained rooted to the chair unable to move. What was I missing here?
Before I could say anything, Max placed his hand underneath my arm and urged me to my feet. “Come, Becca.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Rebecca.” Ivanov bowed and I moved closer to Chernov. “Max, you must teach her some manners.”
“We’ll work on that,” he replied.
Gregor stood guard outside the office with his arms folded across his massive chest. I could easily see him stabbing Robert O’Malley with Dr. Daley’s letter opener and not blinking twice. I could also envision him killing Anna Blake.
“Gregor.” Max nodded to the bodyguard, and Gregor nodded in return.
I hurried along beside Max, staying close to him until we were back on the street.
He whirled on me. “Did I not tell you to leave the talking to me?”
“About that,” I began, wanting to apologize. He didn’t give me the chance.
“Get in the car.” Max held open the passenger door for me, and I was only too happy to do as he requested. Okay, ordered.
Max slid into the driver’s side and started the car, speeding away from the warehouse. The further we got away from Ivanov the safer I felt, the more relaxed.
“Were you trying to get us killed?” Max finally managed. He took the onramp to Interstate 64 way too fast and the tires squealed.
“Not exactly.”
“Oh, well. Thank God you weren’t exactly trying. If you had been, we’d be dead for sure. What were you thinking, Becca? You accused one of the most powerful and dangerous men in this city of double homicide.”
“We went there for answers. I was trying to get them.”
“There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about these things with people like that. Your way was not the correct approach. We were lucky to get out of there alive.” Max sped up and passed everything on the highway. I was no longer worried about death by Ivanov.
Death by a fiery crash was my more immediate concern.
“Who’s Daisy?”
Chernov turned his head quickly in my direction. “Forget Daisy. Forget today. Forget you ever met Dmitri. Hell, while you are at it, forget you ever met me. Why I agreed to take you there is beyond me. But it won’t happen again. That I can promise you.”
Not that I was anxious to ever be in the same room with the Russian mobster, but I felt it was unreasonable for Max to blame me for how the meeting went. “You were just as rude to him as I was. You asked about the murders, too. Don’t be putting it all on me.”
“That’s different.”
“Oh sure. It’s different because it’s you.”
“Correct.”
We were silent for the rest of the ride. We pulled up outside of my grandfather’s house and I looked at Max, miserable that I’d made him mad enough to want to end our friendship. “I’m sorry. You asked me to let you do the talking and I should have. I hope when you’re not so angry you’ll change your mind about wanting to be my friend.”
Max spared me a brief glance and what I saw there gave me hope that whatever Max and I had going wasn’t totally over. “Drop this murder investigation. For your well-being. You’ve been warned.”
I climbed from the car and watched him drive off, reflecting on all that had transpired. Ivanov had admitted that he wasn’t connected to the murders. And he’d somehow threatened Max with a woman named Daisy. Max seemed to fall apart after that, which raised endless questions.
If he thought I’d give up my investigation now, he was crazy. Plus now I had to find out who this Daisy person was and what hold she had over Max.