of nudie shots for him. Kiril finds out, and he’s not happy.
Next thing you know, we’re getting a call about a dead body in an apartment off
Ives Dairy Road.”
“Which would be said valet,” Biff said.
“There’s some cocaine residue on the kitchen counter, so
we’re thinking it’s drug-related,” Jimmy said, after sipping his coffee. “Find
a locker key which brings us down here, and maybe there’s going to be some blow
stocked here. But instead, there’s just some sweaty gym clothes and a picture
of Douschka Ovetschkin.”
“Which puts a whole different complexion on the murder.”
Jimmy nodded. “So being an experienced detective, first
thing I do is try and get hold of Mr. and Mrs. Ovetschkin. No dice. You’re the
next best thing, because I know you’re looking for the originals from the photo
shoot. I’m figuring you might be able to supply some of your unique insights
and help me get this case wrapped up. You know where Ovetschkin is?”
“Like I told you, I saw him last night at the Marouschka.
And then he showed up at Sveta’s studio this afternoon and smacked her around,
even though she gave him the digital files he was looking for.”
“He was gone by the time you got there?”
“Yeah. He told Sveta he didn’t believe they were the only
copies, and he wanted more, even though she swears she doesn’t have anything
else. I told her I’d look for some way to get Ovetschkin off her back.
Fortunately he told her he was going out of town, but he was she better have
the files for him by tomorrow.”
“Motherfucker. Somehow I doubt he’s planning to come back.
May have sent the little woman on ahead of him, to get her away from the
boyfriend.”
While Jimmy called his office, Biff opened his laptop and
connected to the free Wi-Fi. He had a contact who was an experienced hacker in
England, and the man had sold Biff a couple of different programs that were
useful when looking for missing persons. The program which tracked flight lists
had an icon shaped like an airplane, which swooped and dove around his monitor
while the search ran. It took nearly a minute for it to discover that Kiril
Ovetschkin had flown from Miami to Managua, Nicaragua that afternoon. There was
no record of a return flight, though that didn’t mean anything.
He looked over at Jimmy, who was still talking. “I want to
know where Ovetschkin went,” he said into the phone.
“Managua,” Biff said.
Jimmy looked at him. And Biff turned the laptop to face him.
Jimmy peered at the screen, and then read off the flight details. There was no
indication that Douschka was on the flight with him, and there was no record of
her flying anywhere else.
He turned back to Biff. “What do you figure Ovetschkin was
doing in Managua? Another arms deal?”
“You’d have to ask Hector Hernandez. That’s out of my
wheelhouse.”
“Jesus, Biff. You mean there’s something you don’t know? I’m
stunned.” Jimmy sat back in the leather armchair. “You’ll let me know if you
find out anything about where Ovetschkin is? I definitely want to talk to him
about this murder.”
“You been to his condo?”
“Nobody home. And no search warrant yet.”
“Bummer.” Biff, however, needed no such formality, and since
he was already so close to the Ovetschkins’ condo, he thought it was worth
paying them a visit.
“I’ll call you, Jimmy,” Biff said, and left the cop
finishing his coffee and making phone calls.
7 – Emotional Frequencies
The Odessa was just a block farther down Collins. As he
walked up the steep curving driveway of the glass tower built on top of a
parking garage, he heard a woman complaining in a heavy Russian accent.
“I should not be waiting for my car,” she said. “I am
calling you ten minutes ago.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but we’re short-handed,” he said, holding the
door to a Cadillac Escalade for her. “Usnavy died last night and we haven’t
been able to hire a new guy yet.”
Jimmy had
Next thing you know, we’re getting a call about a dead body in an apartment off
Ives Dairy Road.”
“Which would be said valet,” Biff said.
“There’s some cocaine residue on the kitchen counter, so
we’re thinking it’s drug-related,” Jimmy said, after sipping his coffee. “Find
a locker key which brings us down here, and maybe there’s going to be some blow
stocked here. But instead, there’s just some sweaty gym clothes and a picture
of Douschka Ovetschkin.”
“Which puts a whole different complexion on the murder.”
Jimmy nodded. “So being an experienced detective, first
thing I do is try and get hold of Mr. and Mrs. Ovetschkin. No dice. You’re the
next best thing, because I know you’re looking for the originals from the photo
shoot. I’m figuring you might be able to supply some of your unique insights
and help me get this case wrapped up. You know where Ovetschkin is?”
“Like I told you, I saw him last night at the Marouschka.
And then he showed up at Sveta’s studio this afternoon and smacked her around,
even though she gave him the digital files he was looking for.”
“He was gone by the time you got there?”
“Yeah. He told Sveta he didn’t believe they were the only
copies, and he wanted more, even though she swears she doesn’t have anything
else. I told her I’d look for some way to get Ovetschkin off her back.
Fortunately he told her he was going out of town, but he was she better have
the files for him by tomorrow.”
“Motherfucker. Somehow I doubt he’s planning to come back.
May have sent the little woman on ahead of him, to get her away from the
boyfriend.”
While Jimmy called his office, Biff opened his laptop and
connected to the free Wi-Fi. He had a contact who was an experienced hacker in
England, and the man had sold Biff a couple of different programs that were
useful when looking for missing persons. The program which tracked flight lists
had an icon shaped like an airplane, which swooped and dove around his monitor
while the search ran. It took nearly a minute for it to discover that Kiril
Ovetschkin had flown from Miami to Managua, Nicaragua that afternoon. There was
no record of a return flight, though that didn’t mean anything.
He looked over at Jimmy, who was still talking. “I want to
know where Ovetschkin went,” he said into the phone.
“Managua,” Biff said.
Jimmy looked at him. And Biff turned the laptop to face him.
Jimmy peered at the screen, and then read off the flight details. There was no
indication that Douschka was on the flight with him, and there was no record of
her flying anywhere else.
He turned back to Biff. “What do you figure Ovetschkin was
doing in Managua? Another arms deal?”
“You’d have to ask Hector Hernandez. That’s out of my
wheelhouse.”
“Jesus, Biff. You mean there’s something you don’t know? I’m
stunned.” Jimmy sat back in the leather armchair. “You’ll let me know if you
find out anything about where Ovetschkin is? I definitely want to talk to him
about this murder.”
“You been to his condo?”
“Nobody home. And no search warrant yet.”
“Bummer.” Biff, however, needed no such formality, and since
he was already so close to the Ovetschkins’ condo, he thought it was worth
paying them a visit.
“I’ll call you, Jimmy,” Biff said, and left the cop
finishing his coffee and making phone calls.
7 – Emotional Frequencies
The Odessa was just a block farther down Collins. As he
walked up the steep curving driveway of the glass tower built on top of a
parking garage, he heard a woman complaining in a heavy Russian accent.
“I should not be waiting for my car,” she said. “I am
calling you ten minutes ago.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but we’re short-handed,” he said, holding the
door to a Cadillac Escalade for her. “Usnavy died last night and we haven’t
been able to hire a new guy yet.”
Jimmy had
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