had no way of knowing whether or not the caller was in fact Irina Markova’s uncle or if he was related by language only.
The Russian mob had put down roots in Miami in the ’80s and, like kudzu, had spread all over the state, infiltrating every illegal and corrupted business there was. The Russians were smart and ruthless, a scary combination.
He had no reason to think Irina Markova had any connections to criminal types, but he did know she had very expensive tastes that no groom’s salary could begin to pay for. Designer clothes, designer shoes, designer bags, a boxful of diamond jewelry.
“Did he give you a name?” Weiss asked.
“No.”
“Is he a relative or what?”
“Maybe. He said so.”
Landry sat down at the desk and grabbed Irina’s phone to try the speed-dial numbers. The first number belonged to someone named Alexi.
He hit
dial
. The phone on the other end began to ring. No one answered. After four rings the voice mail picked up.
“I can’t take your call. Leave message.”
“Bingo,” Landry whispered to himself. An instant winner. The voice was the same. Now he had a first name to put with it. Alexi.
The beep sounded.
“Sir, this is Detective Landry calling back. Your niece’s body has been taken to the medical examiner’s office at the Palm Beach County Criminal Justice Complex at 3126 Gun Club Road, West Palm Beach. An autopsy will be performed tomorrow. Her remains should be available for release by the end of the week. Please call me back at your convenience.”
He gave his cell-phone number and ended the call.
“Did you get his number?” Weiss asked.
“No.”
Landry crouched down and unplugged the phone cords.
“I’m going back to the office,” he said. He grabbed the phone and its base, wrapped the cords around it, and started for the door.
“What am I supposed to do?” Weiss said, irritated he was being shut out.
“Go home. I don’t need you.”
Landry went down the spiral stairs and left the stable. Lights were on in Elena’s house but not in the main house. Sean was probably with her. They were probably having a drink. Avadon would be asking questions. Elena would give him the play-by-play. They would share their disbelief, their shock, their grief.
He knew he wasn’t invited. She would be pissed as hell if he tried to join them. He hadn’t known Irina more than in passing. He would have been a stranger intruding. Elena didn’t want him there anyway. She had made that decision. She didn’t want a relationship, didn’t need him. He was surprised she had allowed him to stroke the back of her head as they sat on the park bench. A weak moment. He wished it had lasted longer.
Pushing the thought aside, he got into his car and started the engine. He had a job to do, and the night was young.
Alexi Kulak went out the back door of the bar and began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, the same four strides over and over, like a caged animal. He couldn’t hear the noise from the bar for the pounding inside his brain. He was unaware of his surroundings, except for knowing that it was night and the only light came from a bulb over the door to the bar.
Irina dead. That couldn’t be. That could not have happened. He wasn’t going to believe it. There had to be some kind of mistake.
He felt sick and angry and…and lost. Things like this did not happen to him. He was the one always in control. The world around him ran according to his rules, by his permission. It was inconceivable that some person had come into his world and done this terrible thing. It just couldn’t be.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with trembling hands and pressed the number for her cell phone. It didn’t matter that he had already called that number twice and had been passed immediately to voice mail.
“This is Irina. Please leave message.”
He waited impatiently for the beep. “Irina? Irina, answer the goddamn phone. Answer me!
The Russian mob had put down roots in Miami in the ’80s and, like kudzu, had spread all over the state, infiltrating every illegal and corrupted business there was. The Russians were smart and ruthless, a scary combination.
He had no reason to think Irina Markova had any connections to criminal types, but he did know she had very expensive tastes that no groom’s salary could begin to pay for. Designer clothes, designer shoes, designer bags, a boxful of diamond jewelry.
“Did he give you a name?” Weiss asked.
“No.”
“Is he a relative or what?”
“Maybe. He said so.”
Landry sat down at the desk and grabbed Irina’s phone to try the speed-dial numbers. The first number belonged to someone named Alexi.
He hit
dial
. The phone on the other end began to ring. No one answered. After four rings the voice mail picked up.
“I can’t take your call. Leave message.”
“Bingo,” Landry whispered to himself. An instant winner. The voice was the same. Now he had a first name to put with it. Alexi.
The beep sounded.
“Sir, this is Detective Landry calling back. Your niece’s body has been taken to the medical examiner’s office at the Palm Beach County Criminal Justice Complex at 3126 Gun Club Road, West Palm Beach. An autopsy will be performed tomorrow. Her remains should be available for release by the end of the week. Please call me back at your convenience.”
He gave his cell-phone number and ended the call.
“Did you get his number?” Weiss asked.
“No.”
Landry crouched down and unplugged the phone cords.
“I’m going back to the office,” he said. He grabbed the phone and its base, wrapped the cords around it, and started for the door.
“What am I supposed to do?” Weiss said, irritated he was being shut out.
“Go home. I don’t need you.”
Landry went down the spiral stairs and left the stable. Lights were on in Elena’s house but not in the main house. Sean was probably with her. They were probably having a drink. Avadon would be asking questions. Elena would give him the play-by-play. They would share their disbelief, their shock, their grief.
He knew he wasn’t invited. She would be pissed as hell if he tried to join them. He hadn’t known Irina more than in passing. He would have been a stranger intruding. Elena didn’t want him there anyway. She had made that decision. She didn’t want a relationship, didn’t need him. He was surprised she had allowed him to stroke the back of her head as they sat on the park bench. A weak moment. He wished it had lasted longer.
Pushing the thought aside, he got into his car and started the engine. He had a job to do, and the night was young.
Alexi Kulak went out the back door of the bar and began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, the same four strides over and over, like a caged animal. He couldn’t hear the noise from the bar for the pounding inside his brain. He was unaware of his surroundings, except for knowing that it was night and the only light came from a bulb over the door to the bar.
Irina dead. That couldn’t be. That could not have happened. He wasn’t going to believe it. There had to be some kind of mistake.
He felt sick and angry and…and lost. Things like this did not happen to him. He was the one always in control. The world around him ran according to his rules, by his permission. It was inconceivable that some person had come into his world and done this terrible thing. It just couldn’t be.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with trembling hands and pressed the number for her cell phone. It didn’t matter that he had already called that number twice and had been passed immediately to voice mail.
“This is Irina. Please leave message.”
He waited impatiently for the beep. “Irina? Irina, answer the goddamn phone. Answer me!
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