Brothers in Arms

By

Kim Bellard

Copyright © Kim Bellard 2002

All Rights Reserved

Brothers in Arms

Chapter One

Ian Russell strode into Darci’s like a conquering hero, his friends Tommy Banks and

Roger Lewis and following in his wake with expectant smiles on their faces as well.

They greeted several of their other friends, ordered a round of drinks, and established

their base camp at a high table just off the bar. From there they had a good view of the

club and its inhabitants. Darci’s was a large, ultra-modern, noisy nightclub, dark in the

right spots and appropriately bright in the rest. The owner had spent a lot of money

making this one of the clubs to be, and it had paid off. As usual, there was a full crowd in

attendance – young, good looking twenty and thirtysomethings full of life and out for a

good time. A night at Darci’s meant paying a little more attention to what you were

wearing and who you came with. It was loud, crowded, and filled with the prospects of

leaving with more interesting stories than one came with.

Ian had expected a typical night of drinking and bantering, hopefully some flirting, and

perhaps even a good time tumble. What he got was much different.

“Boys,” Ian announced to his friends. “The world is a smorgasbord of beautiful women.”

He leaned closer for emphasis, his eyes gleaming. “And I am a hungry man.” He

surveyed the crowd again, planning out his evening’s possible conquests, and it was then

that he first saw Elina Jazy.

She was sitting by herself at the end of the bar. She was dressed simply, in a skirt and a

light sweater that was entirely flattering even without a hint of cleavage or an exposed

midriff. The nightclub was filled with numerous other women wearing a dazzling array

of provocative outfits that left little to the imagination. Ian enjoyed watching them, but

his eyes kept returning to this more sedate woman at the bar. She was just sitting there

by herself, nursing her drink and practically dressed like a schoolteacher, yet there was

something so alluring about her that it was all Ian could do not to stare at her like a rube.

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It might have been the fact that she was sitting there by herself. That seemed rather

unusual. She was, of course, beautiful, and beautiful women in nightclubs like Darci’s

stay alone about as long as a drop of water lasts in the desert. It either gets quickly

absorbed by something around it or it just disappears like a mirage. Yet there she sat.

Her face was one of those great Slavic faces, with high cheekbones, smooth skin, and

brooding eyes. The features of her face were finely chiseled, a masterpiece carved by an

artist. From what Ian could deduce while she was sitting down, her body was long and

lanky, not too curvy but rounded in just the right way in just the right places. Her black

hair was long and silky, flowing well below her shoulders. He could imagine her flipping

it back seductively, and his heart about stopped when his libido quickly drew a mental

picture of her sitting naked on top of him with that long hair hanging over him. He

swallowed hard.

It was most likely that she was waiting for someone, who no doubt would be as good

looking as she was – like a pair of posed models in some fashion ad. However, she didn’t

appear to be watching for anyone in particular, showing no signs of anxiety or

nervousness. That, not her good looks, may have been what interested him so much.

Even from a distance, it was clear this was a woman on her own terms with herself and

the world. She just sat and appeared content to be in her own personal space.

“She’s a looker, all right,” Roger Lewis said, sharing Ian’s pleasure in the view.

“Way out of your league,” Tommy Banks told him.

“Let’s give it some time,” Ian decided. He wasn’t one to waste time – especially not with

so many other available prospects in the club – but he also wasn’t one to back away from

a challenge. And this mystery woman looked like she might be worth it.

That is not to say that other patrons of the bar didn’t try. Ian had played this game long

enough to know better than to rush in without knowing the territory. There was certainly

a risk that someone would beat him to the punch, if you will, but somehow he figured

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that wasn’t likely. So he went about enjoying his evening while he kept tabs on her

covertly. Over the space of the next couple hours he watched several guys -- and a

couple of ambitious women -- take a run at her. He couldn’t overhear any of their

exchanges in the noisy club, but the pattern was clear. She would look up at them with

faint surprise, listen to them gravely, then dismiss them with a few words and a

sympathetic smile. Whatever she said was apparently very clear, as none of her would-be

suitors tried to argue the dismissal. They just slunk away, glad to have tried but not

particularly surprised to have failed with her.

Ian didn’t let his intermittent observation of her deter his evening. He was a gregarious

guy, enjoying being with friends and making new ones. After a couple of drinks, he,

Tommy, and Roger began their forays -- talking with a few pretty girls, playing some

pool, and bullshitting each other about past or imagined future sexual conquests. Ian

found a couple of willing dance partners to show off with, getting their numbers and

buying a couple drinks along the way.

Still, throughout all the activity, Ian kept an eye on the mysterious beauty at the bar,

planning his campaign with the unerring focus of a battle tactician. At one point, he saw

that a fight was brewing between two of the pool players. He didn’t know either of them,

and they looked like they could be trouble if push came to actual shove. “That could be

trouble,” Tommy noted, watching the two start pushing each other.

“Hmm, can’t have that,” Ian said lightly. “She might leave.” He got up and threaded his

way through the crowd towards the two combatants, moving against the tide of other

clubbers who were trying to get some distance from them.

“Five says he puts them both down,” Roger said, having seen Ian’s prowess in such

situations before.

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“Three to one that he ends up buying them both a drink,” Tommy replied, having seen

Ian come out unscathed from worse. They dickered about the odds for a few seconds,

and kept an eye on Ian in case he needed their help.

Ian inserted himself between the two pool players. He figured that, if push did come to

shove, he’d be the one doing the shoving, especially since they clearly already had too

much to drink. He threw his arms around their shoulders and almost dragged them

towards the bar. “Hey, guys,” he said with a conspiratorial tone. “Chill out. You’re

going to blow my chances with that girl.” He nodded discreetly towards the solitary

vision at the end of the bar, and the two protagonists immediately stopped being

bellicose. “You know her?” one asked, clearly awed. The other stood there with his

mouth literally open, gaping like an idiot until Ian whacked him on his shoulder.

“Not yet…” Ian admitted, but sounding confident about his prospects nonetheless. His

implication was clear, and the three of them immediately bonded.

Ian bought them a round and the three of them quickly became fast friends, while Tommy

proceeded to collect his money from Roger with a relieved smile. Ian and his new

friends, meanwhile, chortled over Ian’s plans for introducing himself to her, giggling like

the third-grade boys that men in bars are at heart. Third graders with hormones, anyway.

Eventually Ian rejoined Roger and Tommy, bidding hearty farewells to his new friends

while accepting their eager encouragement. Then he waited until the right moment to

move in for the kill. Timing on these things is delicate, as her other suitors had amply

demonstrated by their fruitless runs at her. Ian waited until he judged that she was clearly

not waiting for anyone, and that she had had enough of being alone. She would either

leave or agree to talk with him. Roger and Tommy prodded him on, starting to make

book about his chances even before Ian was out of earshot. Walking towards her, Ian

smiled and wished he’d taken some of the action before he’d left.

He approached her with his most engaging smile, confident but not cocky about his

appearance. In fact, Ian had an air about him – charm, charisma, what have you. He

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stood out in most crowds without even trying to, even in dark, crowded venues like

Darci’s. Perhaps especially in places like Darci’s. Getting women had never been a

problem for him, but his heart still beat noticeably faster as he approached this stranger.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, standing a careful distance between them. Close

enough to establish a presence but not so close as to invade her space.

She gazed over at him, and he almost lost himself in those eyes. She looked…sad, he

suddenly thought. It made him want to comfort her, but at the same time it kind of

frightened him. Those were deep waters and a man could easily get in over his head and

drown, if he was not careful. Being careful was something Ian had never been very good

at. He now understood what had sent his predecessors away so quickly, and he waited

meekly for her to dismiss him as well.

“I already have one, thanks,” she said. Her voice was as silky as her hair and almost as

enticing as those eyes. She indicated her still half-full drink in front of her as proof.

Still, she continued to look at him, not without interest, and Ian didn’t quite feel she was

done with him. She was being polite but there was something chilling about her

responses. It made him feel like he was a child asking a favor of his teacher, who was

amused but not at all influenced by his attempts. He understood why the other suitors

had been vanquished so easily, but he was made of sterner stuff. “How about a dance?”

he offered, nodding his head over towards the half filled dance floor.

She looked over for just a second, then gave him another steady look. “Yes, I noticed

you were quite a good dancer,” she answered. “But I don’t much feel like dancing right

now, thank you.”

Ian felt out of options. He hadn’t missed the fact that she’d paid enough attention to him

to have noticed his dancing, but he was 0-2 and didn’t want to completely make a fool

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out of himself by whiffing his third pitch. “OK, then,” he said, gamely flashing a big

smile and turning to leave. “Have a good night.”

He was almost turned away from her, escaping with some remnant of his dignity, when

her voice stopped him. “You could just talk to me, though,” she said calmly. “Or is that

against the rules?”

He turned towards her and hazarded a small smile. “No, that would be all right.” He

took a seat next to her and motioned towards the bartender. The bartender was

studiously polishing some glasses, demonstrating such a complete lack of attention to

him that Ian knew it had to be deliberate. Ian had talked to and bought drinks from Frank

for many months, but suddenly he was doing his best to pretend that Ian was not only a

stranger but also an invisible one at that. The woman noticed Ian’s dilemma and made a

small gesture to the bartender. He immediately came over to her, still ignoring Ian’s

presence.

“You OK here, Ms. Jazy?” He seemed unduly solicitous and still was ignoring Ian. It

was beginning to piss him off.

She smiled wanly. “I’m fine but my friend here might like a drink. Think you could

arrange that?”

The bartender pursed his mouth grudgingly. “Sure thing. What do you want, sport?”

Ian was still trying to figure out Frank’s new attitude -- was it jealousy or professional

protectiveness towards an established patron? -- but in the end he wasn’t sure he really

cared. “Hey, Frank, the usual. You know, scotch, straight up.” He enjoyed watching the

bartender’s look of chagrin and slink away. Ian looked back at the woman, who seemed

as enigmatic as ever. He had to remind himself that she had asked him to join her, even

if she was now viewing him as an interesting specimen she’d come across by chance.

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“Ms. Jazy, eh?” he said. “What do your friends call you?”

“My friends already know my name,” she said coolly, effectively shooting him down in

flames. He must have looked temporarily crestfallen, and she gave him a small smile.

“All right, you can call me Elina. With an ‘i’ and an ‘a.’”

“I’m Ian, also with an ‘i’ and an “a,’” he replied with a straight face.

“There you go,” she replied. “We’re practically related.”

“So it would seem. So, how did you get your name?”

“It was my mother’s idea.”

“Does the name have any special significance? You know, does it mean something, or is

it some kind of family name?”

She looked at him with that ineffable small smile that somehow seemed sadder than if

she had just had a more conventional sad look. “I don’t know. My mother died when I

was very young.”

Ian sat back. OK, now he was 0-3 for sure, he thought grimly to himself. He wondered

when she’d just pick up and leave. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, looking over as the

bartender fortunately brought him his drink. He took a big gulp.

“It’s all right,” she told him. “I’m used to it by now. What about your name?”

Despite his previous faux pas, he laughed briefly. “Oh, it was one of the earliest fights

between my parents over me. I think it was like forty-fifth on my mother’s list, my dad

having vetoed all the others for some reason or another.” He caught her raised eyebrow.

“He’s very demanding like that. You’d have to meet him to understand.”

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“Oh, I think I understand. I know someone like that as well.”

“Well, then, so you get the idea. When she suggested Ian I think maybe my father

thought of Ian Fleming and perhaps he thought I’d be like James Bond or something.”

“And your mother?” she inquired with apparent interest. “What did she want you to be?”

He had to think about that for a second. “Probably an artist or a musician or something

like that. Something creative.”

Elina arched her eyebrows briefly in a manner that Ian found infinitely sexy. “And are

you?”

“No-o-o, but I’m not a spy either, so you’d have to call it a draw, I suppose.”

Surprisingly, despite the somewhat rocky start, they managed to have a good

conversation. They did so under the watchful eye of Frank the bartender, who never

quite stared at them but nonetheless clearly was keeping tabs on what Ian was up to with

her. Ian concluded that he was watching out for her, but couldn’t figure out why. “I

know it sounds like a line,” he said to her, “but do you come here very much? I’ve never

seen you here before.”

“Do you know all the people who come here?” she asked, arching that eyebrow again.

“No, but I’d have remembered you,” he told her with as much sincerity as he could

muster.

That got one of those small smiles from her. “Now that does sound like a line.”

“Sorry. I mean it”

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“Apology accepted,” she said. She looked over at the bartender, who perked to attention

until he realized that she wasn’t going to summon him. “I know the owner.”

Ian nodded. That explained the Frank’s attentiveness. Maybe she was the owner’s

girlfriend or mistress or whatever. It made him suddenly envious, and he felt slightly

deflated. Elina watched him, evidently reading his emotions. She reached out and

touched his arm lightly. “He’s a friend of the family.”

There was no reason for her to tell him this, not unless she was trying to not let him get

discouraged. Which was basically the same as encouraging him, practically. He

brightened and they started the conversation going again. She didn’t share much personal

information, but listened with interest to his stories and commented quite intelligently on

all the topics at hand.

They talked for almost an hour before she announced that it was getting late. Ian

gallantly offered her a ride, which she politely declined, and they stood up from the bar.

Frank told him that their tab was on the house, which surprised Ian. He threw down a

twenty as a tip, but still only got a grudging thank you from Frank. He was still watching

them, evidently making sure Ian wasn’t going to try any monkey business now.

“Will I see you again?” Ian asked, his head cocked slightly to the side.

Again Elina gave him that small, sad smile that about broke his heart, or might have if it

hadn’t already melted it. “Perhaps.”

Chapter 2

In the normal course of things, he might never have seen her again. She’d explained to

him that, despite being a friend of the owner, she didn’t come to Darci’s very often. He

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had, of course, requested her number, but she had politely declined to divulge it,

managing to do so while appearing to be sorry that she could not share that information.

Nor was she listed in the telephone book – he checked as soon as he got home. Still, she

had accepted his card, and let him scrawl his cell and home numbers on the back while

she watched him with a tolerant expression on her face that gave scant hope that she’d

ever use them.

Ian wondered over the next few days why she kept appearing in his thoughts. It was true

that she was beautiful, but Ian knew lots of good-looking women, and there was no

shortage of other ones yet to meet. It was also true that she was smart. They hadn’t

discussed world events or anything, but even in a bar conversation her intelligence and

wry sense of humor had been clear.

But that wasn’t the differentiating factor either. Ian knew plenty of other smart women

too, even a few who rivaled her for looks. It was her air of sadness that kept him thinking

about her, about the puzzle that she posed. It was nothing overt, nothing she was trying

to portray. She wasn’t trying to get sympathy, and she wasn’t complaining about

whatever was causing her sadness. He somehow suspected that she wasn’t the

complaining type. It was just around her, in her every move and every look. That small

smile of hers seemed, in retrospect, sadder than the tears of most women that he’d

known, and he wondered why.

At heart, Ian was an incurable optimist. He always expected things to work out, and so

far in his life they generally had. His friends could not quite understand why he always

seemed so cheerful, and some of his more cynical acquaintances suspected that it was just

an act. It wasn’t. He saw the world as a great place, full of opportunities that were his

for the taking. This also made him a romantic, in the old-fashioned sense of the word.

He wasn’t necessarily looking for true love, not yet anyway, but in medieval days he’d

have been the one to volunteer to go slay dragons to redeem a lady’s honor. Dragons

were in short supply these days, but Ian wanted to make Elina smile, to bring some

happiness to her lovely face.

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In any event, the normal course of events did not hold. It was barely a week later that he

saw her again, and in a situation he would have never expected. He was at the gala

opening of a new office tower, a black tie affair he was attending with his boss, Hank

Meyers. Hank owned Meyers Development, a small but influential real estate

development company. Ian had worked for him for five years, and Hank had come to

think of him almost as a son. Ian had the quick wit and gift of gab that made people like

to do business with him, and enough business sense to make it worth everyone’s while to

do so. Hank thought Ian was going to go far, and the only real question was if he’d end

up with Ian as a partner, or as a competitor.

“I can’t believe it,” Ian exclaimed. They were sitting at a small table, sipping champagne

and watching the crowd mingle. Ian had been mingling, greeting old friends and

making new ones, while Hank had been happy to sit and let people come to him, as they

did. Hank knew a lot of people. This was the first time they’d had a break together since

they’d arrived.

“What?” Hank asked, looking over at him with curiosity.

“That woman,” Ian pointed. “That’s the girl I was telling you about, from the other

night.”

Elina was dressed in an evening gown that looked like it cost a months’ pay, at least for

Ian. It might have been petty change for her, but for sure she hadn’t picked it up at K-

Mart. Her hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, leaving her neck bare and vulnerable.

She looked every bit like a princess, down to the practiced way of greeting the people she

was being introduced to. She was accompanied by an older man, who was dressed in

what was clearly not a rented tux. They were trailed by a small retinue of men whose

purpose was not quite clear, although Ian noticed that they kept a hard watch on the

crowd.

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“Oh,” Hank said with surprise. “That’s Elina Jazy.”

Ian looked at him. “I already know her name. How do you know her?”

Hank continued his inspection of the would-be royal party. “Her father is Marko Jazy.”

Ian wrinkled his brow. “I don’t know him. Who’s he?”

A shadow passed across Hank’s face, too fast for most people to catch, but Ian had

known Hank long enough to know it meant something. “Come on, give,” he chided

Hank.

Hank sighed. “Marko’s a businessman. A little of this, a little of that, a lot of

everything.”

“How come I’ve never heard of him?”

“Marko likes to keep his name out of the paper. He’s very private, almost obsessively so.

I’m surprised he’s here tonight.”

They watched Marko and Elina work the room, Elina with less enthusiasm than Marko.

Marko smiled more broadly and more pleasure than Elina, but even from across the room

Ian thought there was something off about it. He prided himself on his ability to read

people, and he thought Marko had about the coldest smile he’d ever seen. He had the

build of someone who had worked hard, and not at a desk, for a long period in his life,

and had not let himself go to seed. His nose looked like it might have been broken at one

point, and his face – well, Ian assumed that Elina got her looks from her mother.

“So you’ve done business with this Marko?” Ian asked at last.

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“No, not quite,” Hank replied carefully. “I came close, but I didn’t like the way he does

business.”

“Is he dirty?”

Hank considered his words carefully. “I don’t have any evidence about that.”

“But…”

“I think winning is very important to Marko,” Hank said diplomatically. “Very

important.”

They watched the troupe for a few minutes longer, Ian growing more calculating. His

hunting hat was on “Excuse me, Hank,” he announced at last. “I’m going to work the

room a bit.”

It took almost a half an hour before Elina was left alone. Her father and his companions

split off for just a minute, and Ian swooped in immediately. “Ms. Jazy, I believe. Fancy

meeting you here.”

She blinked twice, the only sign that she was startled. “Mr. – I’m sorry, I only remember

your first name. Ian, yes?”

“It’s Russell, Ian Russell,” he said politely. He took her drink from her hand and put it

on the nearest table. “You and I have a date to dance.”

She gave him a dubious look, but allowed him to take her arm and lead her away to the

dance floor. The band was playing a soft rendition of a pop song, and they danced

carefully while they established their rhythm. Ian was a good dancer, as she already

knew, and she was a marvelous dancer in her own right. They quickly got on the right

wavelength and soon were dazzling the crowd, twirling and moving like they’d been

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dancing together for years. Nothing too dramatic or erotic, no tango or lambata, but

sensual all the same.

“You’re a great dancer,” he told her.

“Oh, a regular Ginger Rogers,” she replied with a self-mocking tone of voice and a slight

smile.

“You know, most guys my age wouldn’t even know who Ginger Rogers was.”

“Then it’s fortunate I’m dancing with you,” she replied without missing a beat.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he reassured her.

They danced dance after dance. Her face displayed a kind of guilty pleasure that he was

enjoying even more than the sense of movement. She snuggled close to him, not

inappropriately so but close enough to give him hopes for later. From the corner of his

eye he had spotted the return of Marko and his flunkies. At first they appeared merely

surprised by Elina’s absence, but once one of them pointed her out on the dance floor

Marko’s face grew stonier. The longer that they kept dancing, the darker his face grew.

Ian was already looking for his escape route. When a party of other dancers came in

between them and Marko he quickly changed directions and guided Elina out of the

room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, not protesting.

“You’ll see.”

Ian took her to a small terrace that was tucked away, off one of the future conference

rooms. Elina gave him a bemused look. “And how did you know this was here?”

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“I do my homework,” Ian told her with satisfaction. In fact, he had studied the building’s

plan carefully, doing the kind of homework that he always did on projects. Finding

secluded hideaways for occasions like this was a nice fringe benefit.

“So it would appear,” she said, giving me a thorough look. “Of course, you could be a

serial killer looking to lure innocent young girls to their doom.”

He grinned at that. “Are you that innocent?”

“Innocent enough, but perhaps not so young.” She didn’t seem too worried about any

homicidal tendencies he might have.

“Young enough,” Ian told her. “I know the layout because I’m in real estate – Meyers

Development. We weren’t on this deal but we have friends who were.”

Elina’s face seemed to dim a little, and she turned to look at the view. “Like my father,”

she said matter-of-factly.

Ian realized that she must be used to people befriending her to get to her father, or his

money. He reached for her arm. “Hey – I’d never even heard of your father until I saw

him with you. I only asked about him to make sure he wasn’t the competition.”

She looked down at his hand on her arm, but did not protest. She nodded briefly with a

serious expression on her face. “No, there’s no competition,” she said with a curious lack

of expression. Ian hoped that this was meant as encouragement but wasn’t sure.

They looked out on the city, its lights twinkling brightly. It was a warm night and there

was a light breeze flowing. They could hear the music playing lightly behind them. He

casually put his arm around her waist, and she didn’t seem to mind. They stood there for

a couple of minutes in silence. Her face again had that sad expression, her mind far

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away. Ian watched her out of the corner of his eye, then turned towards her, his hand on

her hip.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said lightly. That brought a small smile of resignation to

her face. She turned towards him, studying his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not being very good

company, am I?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said lightly. “I’m pretty happy to be here with you. I was

just wondering where you were.”

The smile faded very slowly, like water going down the drain, and she turned back to

face the city’s lights. “Far from here, I’m afraid. Sorry. It’s a bad habit.”

“Look – it is a beautiful night, in a beautiful city, with a great dancing partner. I’m also a

pretty good kisser, in case you were curious,” he said, noticing the flicker of a smile from

her at that last statement. “What more could you ask for?”

“Maybe I’m like Greta Garbo,” she said, affecting a light tone of voice that she didn’t

quite pull off. “Maybe I just vant to be alone.”

“Alone from me?”

“No, not from you,” she said. She turned back to him, her face suddenly just inches from

his. Part of him thought about just kissing her, but he wanted her to do the rest. “No, not

from you at all.”

“From whom? " he pressed.

She sighed. “From…”

“Here you are.”

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The voice came from nowhere, or as close to nowhere as the door that they had come in

was. It was a man’s voice, calm and with just a touch of sarcasm. They turned towards

it.

“We were worried about you, Ms. Jazy,” the man said in a neutral tone of voice. Ian

recognized him as one of Marko’s attendants. He had the build and relaxed readiness of

a predator who was used to being the top of the food chain. He was about Ian’s age –

perhaps a few years older – with All-American good looks and blond hair. He didn’t fit

with the Jazy’s darker coloring or Slavic face, but right away Ian saw that his smile was,

if anything, colder than Marko’s. Despite the calm expression and friendly words, Ian

thought he was one of the most menacing people he had ever met.

Two other men stood behind them, their snarls barely hidden. It was funny – they were

trying to look tough, but by comparison to their leader they seemed like amateurs.

“I’m perfectly safe,” Elina replied, moving away slightly from Ian. “You needn’t have

worried, Carl.”

Carl didn’t seem moved. “Your father is expecting you.”

She seemed to sag slightly at this, reminded of the real world outside this terrace. Now

Ian knew from whom she wanted to be alone. The man was staring steadily at Elina with

blue eyes that were, if anything, colder than his smile.

“Maybe she isn’t ready to come inside,” Ian interjected. His ire was rising rapidly. He

didn’t like to be pushed around. Carl ignored him, continuing to stare down Elina. Ian

could sense her resolve weakening. It annoyed him further that Carl was ignoring him,

treating him like he wasn’t there. He stepped forward towards Carl. “I said, maybe she

isn’t ready to come inside.”

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That got Carl’s attention. He gave Ian a dismissive glance. “It’s none of your business.”

Now Ian was within a couple of feet from Carl. His hands were down but ready to fight

at a moment’s notice. He had a temper, and it had gotten him into trouble on more than

one occasion. That was all right with him; if this Carl wanted trouble, he’d give it to him,

and his friends. He hadn’t grown up on Marine bases around the world without knowing

that sometimes you have to stand your ground, and defend it if necessary. Nor was he ill

equipped to defend himself, if that was the way they wanted it. His adrenaline was

pumped for a fight.

Carl, on the other hand, seemed as cool as when he had come in, although Ian noticed

that his hands were ready as well. He looked almost amused at Ian’s aggressiveness.

“Really, Mr. –“

“Russell.”

“—Russell, this doesn’t concern you. Why don’t you stay and enjoy the view while we

go back with the other grown-ups?”

Ian circled Carl slowly, making Carl turn to keep up with him. Both of them were on a

hair-trigger. Ian was evaluating Carl’s stance; despite Carl’s relaxed tone, he seemed

perfectly capable of defending himself. Ian was debating taking the first strike while

wondering how things had escalated so quickly. He tried to get a sense of the other two

and how he’d deal with them at the same time.

“Stop it, you two,” Elina’s voice called out sharply. “You’re acting like a couple of kids

in the schoolyard. Ian, I should go.”

The two of them continued to stare intently at each other for a few tense seconds, waiting

to see what the other would do. Finally Carl relaxed his guard almost imperceptivity, and

a small sly smile appeared. “Excellent, Ms. Jazy. This way.”

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He took Elina’s arm at the elbow and led her off. She gave Ian a quick apologetic glance

over her shoulder as she walked away, not bothering to hide her sadness now. To

discourage him from following her, the two other escorts remained until Carl and Elina

had gone out of sight, holding their hands clasped together in front of them like the

bouncers they probably were. Then they turned and walked away, smirking visibly while

Ian chafed. He felt like taking them on but knew there was no point.

When he returned to the main room, Jazy and his party were gone.

Chapter 3

Marko Jazy sat in his library. It was the morning after the gala and he was not happy.

The library was his place for serious business. He had a real office, in an ornate office

building he owned, where he received most of his visitors, but this was where he handled

his more pressing matters.

The library looked like a throwback to a library in an old English estate, which is where

he had bought it – lock, stock, and barrel. He hadn’t read any of the collection of antique

and first edition books that lined the walls, and never would. He found more use for the

desk and small bar. Jazy wasn’t his original name, but, then again, neither was Marko.

For that matter, his parents wouldn’t have recognized his face after the plastic surgery

he’d had. He’d come to America as a young man and had successfully wiped his past

clean. English was one of the six or seven languages he spoke flawlessly. It was better

for business.

He was sitting behind a massive mahogany desk that weighed more than most cars. He

was wearing an expensive suit that had been specially fitted for him at his private tailor

on Saville Road, making allowance for his thick build and broad shoulders. He stared

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Brothers in Arms

with barely hidden anger at the man standing across the desk from him. “You are quite

sure that Russell is the same man who was with her at the bar?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how do you explain him showing up last night? You said at the time that they

hadn’t exchanged any personal information or made plans.”

Walker gulped nervously. “I didn’t think they did, sir. We couldn’t hear every word but

I’m pretty sure they didn’t exchange phone numbers. I didn’t hear them talking about

meeting last night.”

“Marko, this guy Russell is in real estate,” Carl Gaines interrupted. He was sitting

languidly in one of the overstuffed armchairs against the wall. Unlike the subject of

Jazy’s interrogation, he seemed unconcerned about Jazy’s reaction. “It is likely to be just

a coincidence that he ran into her.”

Jazy turned to look thoughtfully at Gaines. Gaines was Jazy’s irreplaceable second-in-

command. Jazy trusted Gaines more than anyone else, which was faint praise because

Jazy didn’t trust anyone else at all. Gaines had been with him for years, and had always

acted in Jazy’s best interests as far as Jazy knew – but Jazy still remained wary.

Walker was a weapon, a bomb. You dropped him when you wanted to inflict maximum

damage. The thing was, you couldn’t really control him very well once he was released.

He missed as often as he hit, and he almost invariably inflicted lots of collateral damage.

If Walker was a bomb, Gaines was more like a Stealth bomber using smart bombs. He

got in unobtrusively, took out his target with deadly efficiency, and was gone before

anyone else knew it. You could run, you could hide, you could try to fight back – it

didn’t matter. Once Carl Gaines had you in your sight you might as well say your

prayers.

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Brothers in Arms

Marko Jazy had built his career with the help of men like Walker, and his type was still

useful. However, for his real ascension to power he needed Gaines. A couple more like

him and Jazy could probably be elected President.

“You think so?” Jazy asked.

“I do. From what we have gathered, Russell is a promising young associate at Meyers

Development, but what he really excels at is what the young people call being a player.”

This pleased Jazy even less. His eyes darkened even further with barely submerged fury.

“So he just wants to fuck Elina.”

“Most likely.” Carl didn’t seem to care, although he was aware of how Jazy took this as

an affront.

Jazy repeatedly made a steeple with his fingertips, thinking over his options. “So we

could scare him off, buy him off, or arrange for a distraction.” He was waiting for Carl to

offer his suggestion but Carl remained silent, watching Jazy’s impatientness with barely

hidden amusement.

“I know a girl,” Walker offered. “She’s a dancer at one of your clubs.”

“A hooker?” Jazy asked with doubt.

Walker seemed slightly offended. “She’s a dancer, but she’ll do this as a favor to me.

For the right price, of course.”

“She’ll get this Russell’s attention?”

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“Unless he’s deaf, dumb, and blind,” he assured him, feeling better now that he had some

good news to offer.

Gaines had remained neutral throughout their exchange. Jazy looked over at him. “You

agree, Carl?”

Gaines shrugged. “I don’t think scaring him off is the best choice yet. Russell might get

more interested, just out of stubbornness.”

“But? You think this dancer won’t interest him? You’re the one who said he was a

‘player.’”

“It’s not that I give him much credit,” Carl said. He stood up slowly, prolonging the

suspense. He walked over to one of the windows and lifted the blind to peek outside.

“It’s that I give your daughter more credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if he is just a shallow skirt-chaser, I don’t think Elina would give him the time

of day.”

Jazy stared hard at him, not pleased at this complication to the solution he had thought

he’d been presented with. His eyes flashed with frustration, although he remained sitting

immobile behind the desk. “So, what do you suggest?” he asked after

Gaines turned towards him, with his hands tucked casually in his pockets. “You can

trying throwing the stripper at him and see if she sticks,” he said, with a dismissive

glance at his companion. “I’m going to look into a fall-back plan.”

Chapter 4

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“Hey there. Got time for lunch?”

It took Ian a couple of seconds to place the voice. It was not so unusual for women to

call him without immediately identifying themselves, and he prided himself on his ability

to peg them. This was a voice he hadn’t heard too often and, in any event, wasn’t

expecting to hear, so it took him longer than usual. “Elina?” he asked tentatively.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Her voice sounded chipper and faintly teasing.

“No,” he answered slowly, getting his game plan ready. He leaned back in his chair and

looked out of his window. Meyers Development’s offices were on one of the upper

floors of new office building they had an ownership interest in, and Ian had a nice, if

smallish, office that had a great view. He could see the river from it. “But I wasn’t

expecting you, either. After last night I thought Carl and his boys had spirited you off to

Mexico or someplace.”

“Well, I’m back now. You didn’t answer my question.”

Ian thought for only a moment. In fact, he did have lunch plans, but nothing that

wouldn’t wait. Elina was a much more intriguing option than the banker he was

supposed to meet. “For you, anything. Where and when?”

They agreed on a small restaurant not too far from Ian’s office, a place that catered to the

office crowd at lunch. It was in an old office building, and the restaurant’s owners had

done a nice job of tucking away their space in the somewhat convoluted layout they had

to work with. The brick walls were exposed, and there were several nooks and crannies

in which tables, stations, or art had been strategically located. The place was always busy

around lunch but fairly deserted at night. From their conversation, Elina seemed to know

the neighborhood fairly well, which made him think perhaps she worked nearby, or

maybe she just ate lunch out a lot.

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Ian walked over to the restaurant. He greeted the hostess, whom he knew from previous

lunches. “And whom are you meeting today, Mr. Russell?” she said formally after giving

him a peck on the cheek in greeting.

“A pretty lady,” he told her, spotting Elina already seated in one of the more isolated

tables, with a glass of water in front of her. They both turned to admire her. She was

dressed in a very businesslike suit, just a gray suit with a simple white blouse underneath.

Her hair was pulled behind her in a ponytail, and she had on a small pair of diamond

studs, with no other jewelry visible. She could have been just another attractive

professional woman, but there was something about her that stood out. As at Darci’s, she

seemed just the slightest bit forlorn – nothing dramatic, nothing mawkish or self-pitying.

Ian wasn’t even sure that he’d have seen it had he not seen her at the bar the other night.

Sitting there staring off into space, her hand idly touching the glass of water, she seemed

far away, in a place he didn’t want to go, but would be happy to lead her away from.

“I’d say so,” the hostess agreed with an envious smile. She gave him a playful nudge

towards Elina’s table.

“Hey, there,” he said once he got closer to her table. He gave her a big smile. She tilted

her head just slightly and gave him a small smile that, nonetheless, made him think she

was pleased to see him. “I’m not late, am I?”

“No,” she said, not bothering to check her watch. “I wasn’t sure about the parking so I

came over a little early, and found a space right outside.” She pointed to a black

Mercedes sedan parked at the curb nearby.

“Nice car.”

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Brothers in Arms

Elina shrugged. “I’d have been happy with a Camry. My father insisted.” She looked

over at the hostess, who quickly dropped her gaze and made busy. “I see you have

friends here.”

“I have friends lots of places.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll bet you do,” she said dryly.

The waitress stopped by. Ian ordered some coffee. She pointed to the blackboard with

the daily specials, and left them to their own accord. Ian did a quick scan of the room.

There were the usual pairings of coworkers – mostly same sex, but a few mixed sets that

might imply the possibility of intra-office romance. There were also a few tables where it

looked like actual business was being conducted, not just office gossip. Then, looking

out of place by contrast, where two hard looking men sitting at a small table against the

back wall. He caught one of them staring at him with some vehemence; Ian was taken

back. Then he smiled; he figured that the man was envious of his own lovely lunch

companion. Ian gave him a steady look back until the man looked away. He resumed his

attention on Elina.

“Someone you know?” she asked, without looking around to see whom Ian had been

staring at.

“Someone who’s jealous,” he responded.

Ian’s coffee arrived. “What’s good?’ he asked the waitress, giving her a big smile. She

eyed him cynically but tolerantly. “Everything’s good,” she told him good naturedly.

“Try the black bean soup.”

Elina ordered a chef’s salad while Ian asked for the southwestern chicken sandwich,

along with a cup of the black bean soup. He winked at the waitress after he ordered, and

she gave him a bemused smile in return.

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“Boy, you don’t miss a beat, do you?” Elina said drolly.

“Just making sure we get good service.”

“Just making sure you get good service,” she retorted. “She’ll probably spit in my salad.”

“Ah, well. Nothing’s perfect,” he told her. “Anyway, what was the hurry last night?

And who was Carl?”

Elina had undoubtedly been expecting this topic to come up, but she still seemed

uncomfortable with it. “Carl Gaines works for my father,” she said slowly. She studied

her water. “My father thought I’d been away too long, so he sent Carl to bring me back.”

“Is that Carl’s job?” Ian teased, with a sharp needle.

Elina didn’t seem to take it personally. She smiled. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose

you could say. He gets what my father wants.”

Ian filed that piece of information away for further reflection at a later date. “Why did

you have to leave so suddenly? By the time I got back to the ballroom you were gone.”

Elina nodded, and looked up at him with that small smile. “Oh, I think it was just as

well.”

“He wasn’t too happy with you?” Ian said sympathetically.

Elina looked thoughtful. “No, he wasn’t upset with me, but he might have gotten upset at

you had we stayed.”

“Kind of protective, isn’t he?”

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Elina laughed, although a laugh that spoke more of familiarity than amusement. “He’s

been taking care of me my whole life, because my mother died when I was so young. I

guess it’s hard for him to let go sometimes.”

Ian knew this was getting into sensitive areas. Families are always tricky subjects, and he

wasn’t sure he was quite ready to get into this with her. She seemed kind of old for her

father to be watching over her like that, but here she was anyway, so he’d let it ride. At

least, unless Carl showed up again.

Their food arrived and they started eating. The soup was, in fact, delicious, and the

waitress watched him to get his appreciative reaction. “Oh, I think you’ve got her

attention,” Elina said, not missing a thing.

“Shut up and check your salad,” Ian kidded her. He didn’t mind either that the waitress

had some interest in him – she was cute, in a blond twenty-two year old way – or that

Elina saw there were other bidders for his affection.

It turned out that Elina worked for her father. Jazy apparently had widespread business

interests, as Hank had implied, and she had a kind of vaguely defined job doing various

tasks for him. She asked him several intelligent questions about his own job and

background, and from the questions he gathered that she did have a pretty good business

sense and knowledge. He mentally upgraded the vague nature of her job; nepotism or

not, she knew what she was talking about.

Lunch was over far too quickly. They passed on dessert, despite the waitress’s best

efforts to pitch them on the apple pie. “She just wants to keep you here longer,” Elina

teased him, watching the waitress walk away with some slightly exaggerated hip motion.

“I think she’s just working the tip,” Ian advised her, but watching the waitress’s hips

sway away anyway. He sighed and looked at Elina with pleasure. “Isn’t it a great day?”

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Elina reached for the check. “My treat.”

Ian snatched the check from her hands, surprising her. “No, I insist.”

“I invited you, after all,” she challenged him.

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t get to leave the big tip our friend is expecting. She might think

I’m your kept man, and Carl wouldn’t like that.” Elina rolled her eyes but let him keep

the check.

Ian put some bills down, including a very generous gratuity that the waitress noticed and

gave him a big smile for. He escorted Elina outside.

“Did you get her phone number?” Elina asked with an amused smile once outside.

“She left it on the check,” he told her with a straight face. “That’s why I had to pay.” In

fact, she had, and he had pocketed the check just in case things with Elina weren’t going

anywhere. He figured she wouldn’t believe him if he joked about it.

Elina took the keys to her car out, but paused on the sidewalk. She looked over at the car

like it was a getaway car, or possibly as though it was a prison wagon taking her back to

jail. “Thank you for coming out.”

“My pleasure.” He unobtrusively edged closer to her.

“I know that last night must have been…awkward,” she said delicately.

“I’m usually a better dancer than that,” Ian teased. “No one has ever called me awkward

before.”

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Elina hesitated, not sure at first if Ian was teasing or not. Ian tried to make it easier for

her. “I’m just kidding. Hey, look at it this way: Carl and his boys got my blood going –

not that you hadn’t already done that.”

Another woman might have blushed at this but Elina just stood there weighing her keys

in her hand and giving him the impression that she was weighing something altogether

different.

This was his cue. “So, will I see you again?”

She looked at him very carefully, taking this more seriously than he expected. “Yes, I’d

like that,” she said at last. She sounded completely sincere.

“Can I have your number?”

She made a wry face. “You’ve already got hers,” she said, nodding her head towards the

coat pocket where he’d put the waitress’s number.

So she’d noticed. He didn’t think she was actually too worried about the competition, but

gestures matter. He took the check from his pocket and tore it in half, then threw it in a

nearby garbage can. “I’d rather have yours.”

She pretended to be unimpressed but he thought she was pleased. He was getting better

at reading her expressions. Throughout the lunch she had never really looked happy or

smiled too broadly, but he was pretty sure she had enjoyed his company. Still, there was

always that looming cloak of sadness that she did her best to keep at bay but that stayed

around her.

“It’s better if I call you.”

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Chapter 5

That night Ian went out with a couple of his friends to McGuires, a bar they often

frequented. This was more of a sports bar than a pick-up bar, with a dozen or so big

screen televisions scattered around. They were just going to hang out, maybe play some

video games or watch a ball game on the televisions that ringed the bar. They’d been

there before and were on good terms with the bartender.

“Hey, Sam,” Ian greeted her.

“Hey, Ian,” she replied, giving him a warm smile. Ian was a good customer and a better

tipper. He occasionally took a run at her, but mostly just to practice his skills. Her

husband might not appreciate it if she took Ian up on his overtures. She smiled at his

friends. “Hi, Tommy, Bill. What can I get you guys?”

They sat around and bantered with Sam for a few minutes, enjoying the beers she’d

brought almost as much as they enjoyed her company. Then they moved to one of the

booths a few feet away.

The bar had a good crowd – not weekend-packed, but busy enough. Ian scanned the

room, both scouting out any old acquaintances and determining if there were any soon-to-

be friends present. He waved to a few people he knew, but there was no one that he felt

compelled to go over and say hello to.

They’d only been there ten or fifteen minutes when Bill Riddick’s eyes practically

bugged out. “Babe at six o’clock,” he murmured, deeply impressed. Ian and Tommy

Banks immediately swiveled around to see what Bill had spotted. It was worth the effort.

She was very attractive, with long blond hair, a great body, and a pouty mouth that

practically begged to be kissed or otherwise used. Her outfit matched: a short skirt with a

halter top that barely hung over her ample chest while leaving her back bare. It was clear

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she was not wearing a bra, and that nature -- or silicon – allowed her to do so without

gravity dampening the view.

She sashayed – there really was no other word to describe it -- into the bar, heading to the

main bar with a walk that was mesmerizing. Every man present, and more than a few of

the women, whipped their heads around to observe her entrance. Several intense verbal

fights subsequently erupted within couples, as the women harangued their escorts for

being so obvious about their attraction. The woman moved slowly but surely to the bar,

with a haughty look that revealed that she was aware of and used to the effect her passage

was having on the room.

“Wow,” Tommy said.

“She’s been working out,” Bill declared, admiring her sleek physique.

“More like she’s been worked on,” Ian agreed. “But not bad, not bad at all.”

They quickly scouted the room to see if it looked like she was meeting anyone. It

wouldn’t be good to hit on her, only to find that her bodybuilding boyfriend had just been

exercising his strongest muscle in the men’s room. So far, so good; there were no signs

of a boyfriend. The woman coolly surveyed the room, leaning against the bar but not

sitting down.

“Now that’s a woman looking to get fucked,” Bill announced.

“Yeah, but why do I think of a praying mantis when I look at her?” Tommy said, not

taking his eyes off of her. “You know, they eat their lover right after having sex.”

“During, I think,” Ian corrected. “But it might be worth it.”

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The woman had completed her survey of the room. She looked directly at their table, and

calmly took out a cigarette, ignoring the bartender behind her. Sam took the rejection

philosophically, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone else bought this

vixen a drink. She moved away to serve another customer.

“I’d think that cigarette would just catch fire from being around her,” Tommy said with

some awe.

“I think it’s waiting to get into her mouth,” Bill replied, almost drooling. “I know how it

feels.”

The woman made no move to bring out a lighter. She looked directly at Ian – a

challenge, a question, a dare. Ian didn’t need a second invitation. “Boys, I’m on,” he

said, rising to his feet. “Wish me luck.”

The woman watched him approach with an evaluative gaze, neither showing pleasure nor

surprise at his approach. Once within arm reach she held out her cigarette in an unspoken

request. Ian grabbed some matches off of the bar and quickly lit one, maintaining eye

contact with her. Her look was almost greedy, implying some satisfaction that he had

come to her and anticipating future gratification of some sort. She inhaled a breath of

smoke, and exhaled it with an appreciative sound. She offered him a cigarette.

“No, thanks,” he said. “I don’t smoke.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, putting her pack away. “You do drink and fuck, don’t you?

Otherwise I’m just wasting my time here.”

Ian laughed. “You don’t waste any time, do you? Yeah, don’t worry – I’ve got plenty of

vices.”

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She smiled at him for the first time, and Ian had the feeling that the room had closed in to

just the two of them. “No, I don’t waste time. I know what I like and I usually get it.”

He sat down on a stool and gestured to one next to him. She remained standing, but

moved in so that she was touching him with her legs. He suspected she was standing

because her skirt was too short to allow her to sit on the stool. He knew she wasn’t

wearing a bra, and he was prepared to believe that she wasn’t wearing panties either.

“I’m Ian,” he told her. “What’s your name?”

“Dani.”

“So, Dani, what brings you here? You a big sports fan?” He pointed to the televisions

surrounding them.

She didn’t take her eyes off of him. “Depends on the sport.”

Ian raised his eyebrows at that. “Can I buy you a drink?” She asked for a martini, and

Ian called Sam over. “Hey, Sam – bring Dani here a martini and me another Scotch, if

you would.” Sam gave him a look that indicated both disappointment and grudging

acceptance of his new friend, then went to make their drinks.

“So what do you do, Dani?”

“I’m a dancer.” Dani still never took her eyes away from him, and seemed to have

moved in even closer. Her breasts were tantalizingly close to him, and he had to fight to

resist the temptation to look at them in the low cut shirt. She had startlingly blue eyes,

which he suspected were due more to contacts than to genes. Her eyes weren’t real, her

hair probably wasn’t really blond, and those spectacular breasts almost certainly weren’t

real. But, Ian figured, what’s the point of progress if not for aesthetic improvements like

hers? If only she would look away, he thought, even for a couple of seconds, so he could

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more fully admire her. He thought she was mocking him slightly, knowing what he was

thinking but toying with him by denying him this simple thing, while allowing the rest of

the men in the bar to ogle her at will. He thought about just brazenly staring, and wasn’t

sure she wasn’t daring him to do just that. But he wanted to demonstrate some mild

sense of restraint, even if they both knew it was only a matter of time.

Sam brought them their drinks, and they tapped their glasses in a salute. He gulped down

some of his and recovered some of his wits. “A dancer, eh? Where do you dance?”

She named an exclusive gentleman’s club that Ian had been to. “Oh, yeah, I’ve been

there,” he told her. “I don’t remember you, and I’m sure I would.”

“Well, maybe you’ll remember me now,” she breathed in a Marilyn Monroe knockoff, or

maybe it was more Anna Nicole Smith.

“Oh, count on it,” he assured her. She was inches away.

Ian extracted a few other facts from her. She was twenty-three, a community college

student in her spare time, and had been dancing for a few months. She liked the money,

but Ian thought perhaps she must like the attention just as much. By now, her hands were

resting on his leg, making small caressing motions that bordered just on the edge of being

obscene. She wasn’t actually touching his groin, but he figured with a few more minutes

of conversation anything was possible. He threw a quick glance over at Bill and Tommy,

who were intently watching him and who quickly give him two thumbs up.

“Hey, handsome, pay attention to me,” she commanded, squeezing his thigh at the same

time. Yes, Ian was certain she craved attention.

Ian normally would have had his arm around her waist, maybe having her sit in his lap.

She practically was, but pretty much she’d been the aggressor. He didn’t mind

aggressive women, and he had no problem with the fact that she was a stripper, er,

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dancer. It wasn’t like he was going to marry her or anything. Still, she was coming on a

little strong. He was trying to figure out if she was going to fondle him right there, and

what he would do if she did.

She took a long drink of her martini, then stepped away slightly. “I think I need to go to

the little girl’s room,” she told him, still with that very focused look that made him feel

he was the only one in the room.

“I’ll be here,” he assured her gallantly

“No,” she said, taking his hand and looking at him meaningfully. “I think you should

come with me.”

“Come with you? To the ladies room?”

“Yes,” she replied confidently. “Follow me.”

She pulled him up and turned around. She put his hands on her hips, covering them with

her own, and walked towards the hallway where the restrooms were. He followed

obediently, enjoying the feel of her hips as she moved, as well as the look of her tan back.

Even her back muscles were toned, and he liked the contours of her back almost as much

as he liked the lines of her legs, which themselves were almost as good as the curves of

her chest.

When they got to the restroom door she paused and turned around. She eyed him with

that avaricious gaze again, and the next thing he knew she was kissing him, kissing him

hard. Her tongue darted in his mouth and eagerly started exploring his mouth. It seemed

only natural, and friendly, that he should reciprocate, so he did. She put her hands on

both sides of his head to pull him closer, and he put his arms around her. He held her so

close that his hands wrapped all the way around her back and slipped inside the open

sides of her top, touching the sides of her firm breasts.

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She broke off and pulled slightly away, breathing heavily. “Oh, lover,” she said.

“You’re a great kisser.”

“You’re pretty good yourself.”

She took his hand and tugged him towards the ladies room door. “Let’s go inside and

fuck.”

He looked at her incredulously. “What? Here?”

She gave him what passed for a coy expression. “Yeah, in the stall, on the sink, on the

floor, against the wall. I just want you inside me now.” She said this emphatically, again

with that curious single-minded focus.

“I don’t know,” Ian said, hesitating. It wasn’t that Ian had any hang-ups about having sex

in public places. The park, the beach, cars, the occasional airplane restroom, even places

like this – he’d done all these. It wasn’t even that he never had sex on first dates, not that

this even qualified as a “date.” It was just that she was so intent on it that it bothered him

somehow. He thought of a plausible excuse. “I don’t have any protection.”

“I don’t care, sugar,” she said. She slid her hand down to his groin and caressed his

obvious hard-on, smiling evilly at her discovery. “I’m clean, aren’t you? I want to feel

you inside me without anything between us.”

Ian was starting to feel that there was just something too wrong about the whole thing.

Maybe she was a nut, a nymphomaniac or a stalker. Maybe she was a hooker that his

friends had hired as some sort of practical joke. They could be waiting inside the ladies

room door ready to laugh at him for taking this sex-crazed woman seriously. “I dunno,”

he said uncertainly, stepping back slightly.

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Her eyes searched his quickly. “That’s all right. How about a blowjob, then? That’s

safe.” She moved back in towards him and put her hand back on his crotch, rubbing it

urgently. He tried to grab her hand but she proved remarkably agile. She tried to kiss

him again but he turned his face away.

“I’ll do it right here in the hall, then,” she said in a throaty whisper. It made her sound

mad with desire, something that he normally would have enjoyed but which scared him

now. “Hang on, lover.”

She started to sink to her knees, her face pressed against his chest, then stomach, as she

headed towards her target area. The hallway wasn’t heavily trafficked but it wasn’t

exactly private either. He realized with some horror that she was prepared to go through

with it, and held her up by her elbows.

“Not here,” he hissed.

She looked up at him with those deep blue eyes. “Then where? In there? We could go

out to the alley, or my car. I just want to make you happy, lover.”

Her face definitely looked a little maniacal now, and he started to lose interest. His

erection began to subside. Since she was touching it at the time, through his pants

anyway, she realized that and began to rub him harder trying to restoke his interest.

“Let’s go back to the bar and get to know each other a little better first,” he suggested in

the most reasonable tone of voice he could muster.

She looked up at him like he was crazy. “I’m trying to get to know you better, lover.”

“No, I mean, we should talk more first.”

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She stood up and stepped back a few inches. She held out her body for full display, and

it was indeed magnificent. If they were in the strip club, he’d have gladly paid big bucks

for a private lap dance, yet here he was turning her down for a very personal lap dance.

“Don’t you find me attractive?” she cooed.

“Oh, I find you very attractive,” he assured her. “You’re just going a little fast for me.”

“I thought you liked to take things fast, lover.” She stepped back towards him, regaining

her confidence that she was in control and was going to get what she evidently wanted.

He put a hand out to stop her, surprising her and himself even more. “Not quite that fast,

I guess.”

She seemed to be doing some rapid calculations in her head, gauging his sincerity and

weaknesses and evaluating possible avenues of attack. But by now Ian had had enough;

this woman was seriously unbalanced, and he wanted no part of her. She sensed she’d

lost him, and her seductive pose transformed into a more confrontative one.

“What are you, gay?” she snarled. He was taken aback at the ferocity of her tone. She

seemed both mocking and incredulous that he was turning her down. He doubted that it

happened very often.

“No, but I don’t need someone throwing themselves at me to get laid.”

She gave him a scornful look. “You should be so lucky.”

“Maybe.” He started edging away.

“Fuck you,” she yelled at him as he moved away.

“Not tonight, dear,” he replied, turning away and walking away.

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Chapter 6

“He turned her down?” Jazy repeated incredulously. He, Gaines, and Walker were again

in Jazy’s library. Jazy was holding Dani’s promotional photo from the strip club.

Walker had just recapped her futile attempts at seduction earlier in the evening at

Mcguire’s. “She made it clear that she was, ah, available to him?”

“Yes, sir,” Walker assured him. “From what I saw, it was quite clear. He just didn’t take

advantage of it. I don’t know why.”

Jazy threw the photo back across the desk at Walker. He glared at Gaines, who was

lounging in an easy chair flipping through a magazine. “You’re probably gloating about

this.”

“Me?” Gaines asked innocently. He didn’t look up from his magazine.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jazy said in a dark tone. “You said you didn’t think this would work,

and it didn’t. Maybe he’s already screwing Elina and he’s one of those faithful guys.”

“He’s not screwing your daughter,” Gaines assured him. “At least, not just yet. But we

should stop screwing around.”

“You want me to get some guys and beat this fucker up?” Walker asked eagerly. It was

what he liked doing best. Decoys like giving away a nice piece of ass like Dani seemed

like a waste of time to him. He preferred straight-on action. He knew how to put the fear

of God into Russell. It would be hard to court Jazy’s daughter from a hospital bed or a

wheelchair.

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Jazy looked at him thoughtfully, evidently considering the notion. He had no moral

qualms about the use of violence to deal with problems, but he did prefer to use it in the

appropriate situations. He turned back to Gaines. “What do you think?”

They could be discussing where to eat lunch for all the interest Gaines showed. He

looked up at Jazy, ignoring Walker. He considered Walker one-dimensional, always

opting the easy answer of violence whether called for or not. He viewed himself as more

intellectual, although he was capable of far greater violence than Walker could imagine.

“The woman was too direct. Even Russell had to think something was wrong.”

Walker glared at him. “It should have worked.”

Gaines looked at him disdainfully. “What you mean is that it would have worked with

you. Perhaps our Mr. Russell isn’t quite as desperate as you are – which is not too

surprising.”

Walker took a step towards Gaines. Gaines didn’t move but looked up at him, and just

that look was enough to freeze Walker in his steps. Walker had every advantage except

one: he wasn’t Gaines. Gaines looked at him steadily, indifferent as to whether he was

going to have to kill Walker or go back to the magazine. It was the look that the

dominant lion might give an intruding cub, one young enough to not be a serious threat

but old enough that he should now better. Once he saw Walker was no longer a threat, he

looked back down at the magazine and started to flip through the pages again. Walker

felt the icy breath of death across his brow and knew he’d come closer than he expected

to it.

“So what is your idea?” Jazy asked. He had enjoyed the interplay.

“Relax. I told you I had a back-up plan.”

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Jazy eyed him warily. Gaines had worked for him long enough to know that, as irritating

as he might be in revealing what he was thinking, his suggestions were usually highly

effective. “What is it?”

Gaines stood up and approached Jazy’s desk. He took out a picture of a different woman

and handed the photo to Jazy. Unlike Dani’s photo, it was neither provocative nor

revealing. Although admittedly attractive, she could be a suburban housewife. Walker

strained in vain to catch a glimpse of it.

“Who is this?” Jazy asked, eying it carefully.

“She’s someone whose husband owes you a lot of money.”

Jazy nodded and handed the photo back. “And how does this help us?”

Gaines perched on the edge of Jazy’s desk, although he knew Jazy would prefer that he

didn’t. “Well, her husband actually owes the money to Sokov, but he is more than happy

to do this little favor for you.”

“What favor?” Walker asked suspiciously.

Gaines ignored him. “The husband is a deadbeat gambler. He’s never going to get clear

of his debts. She doesn’t know how deep he is in, but he’s desperate enough to turn her

out for something like this.”

Jazy asked for the photo back. He gave it a closer look, then put it down in front

carefully of him. “And she loves him that much? She would do this for him?”

Gaines grinned smoothly at him. “Let’s just say that, as much of a jerk as he may be, she

isn’t quite willing to see him mailed to her in little pieces.”

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Jazy sat back in his chair and gave Gaines a satisfied smile.

“Which you could arrange for.”

Gaines looked away diffidently. “I think I could persuade Ms. Wilde that accidents

happen.”

Jazy nodded, his mind made up. “Go ahead with it.”

Gaines went back over to the chair and sat back down, picking up his magazine again.

“It’s already in play.”

Chapter 7

Ian, Tommy, and Bill stayed at the bar for a couple hours after the Dani debacle. Tommy

and Bill were incredulous that he’d turned her down. “Are you nuts?” Bill had

challenged him.

“No, but she was,” Ian had replied. “A nutcase, a psycho.”

“Couldn’t you at least have gotten her naked first?” Tommy pleaded. “I mean, if she

likes it public, that way we could have gotten something out of it too.”

Speculation over her possible motives or maladies, and some fanciful stories about what

might have been, consumed them for a long time. The conversation began to meander, as

they usually did. They lied about their prowess with women, or boasted about their

knowledge of sports, or perhaps it was the reverse. Maybe it was the same thing either

way. The NFL season was approaching and they had divergent expectations about their

favorite teams. That consumed much discussion. They left the bar around midnight.

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As Ian approached his car, he noticed a young woman standing by a car and looking

around very nervously. She eyed him with trepidation. He immediately liked the looks

of her. She was medium height, with a taut body and nice legs. Her hair was short and

her eyes were bright and lively, although somewhat concerned at the moment.

“Is everything OK?” Ian asked, pausing.

She studied him carefully, evidently trying to decide if she could trust him or not. After

all, it was late at night in a fairly deserted area. The bar’s parking lot was moderately

well lit, but it was not in the best neighborhood and was surrounded by lots of places

where anyone could be lurking. Patrons emerging from the bar at this hour could

reasonably be suspected of having had a few drinks, and she had no way of predicting

whose inhibitions would be weakened in a manner that she would not appreciate. He saw

her concern and put out his hands in a conciliatory manner. “Relax,” he told her in his

most disarming tone of voice. “I’m one of the good guys. What’s wrong?”

She eyed him again. “It’s my car,” she said at last, evidently deciding he was her best

available option. “I’ve got a flat tire.”

“Did you call AAA?”

“About an hour ago. I don’t like waiting here so late.”

“I don’t blame you,” he agreed. “Do you have a spare?”

She indicated that she did, and he had her pop the trunk. He rolled up his sleeves and got

out the tire and the jack. “Oh, I can’t ask you to change it for me,” she said in surprise.

“It’s OK. I can’t have you waiting here for hours for it to be changed. It will just take a

couple of minutes.”

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She reluctantly agreed, and he efficiently made the switch. She perched over his shoulder

watching him. “I’ve always meant to take one of those classes so I’d know how to do

things like this. I hate being dependent on other people.”

Ian looked up at her and smiled. “You know, a woman as pretty as you are will always

have people happy to do things for them.”

She smiled uneasily and might have blushed slightly. “Thank you, I think.”

Ian finished tightening the nuts, then stood up. “All done,” he told her, putting the jack

back in the trunk and tossing in the flat as well. “It looks like you got a puncture in your

tire. You’re probably going to need a new tire.”

She nodded. He wiped his grimy hands together. “I’m sorry you got dirty,” she said. “I

wish I had a rag or something to offer you.”

“It’s no big deal.” He wiped his hands on his shirttail, which had come out. “I’ll get this

shirt cleaned and you’d never know it was a rag tonight.”

“At least let me pay you for the cleaning.” She smiled warmly at him, all her previous

suspicions allayed.

“Nah, comes with being a gentleman” he told her in a teasing tone of voice. “Hey, were

you in McGuire’s? I didn’t see you in there.”

She looked nervous again. “Umm, yeah, I was there for a little while. I was waiting for

someone and they never showed up.”

“Their loss,” Ian offered gallantly. He was mentally replaying the evening to verify that

he hadn’t seen her, and couldn’t come up with any mental images of having seen her.

Then again, he didn’t remember seeing Dani leave either.

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“My name is Ashley,” she said shyly. She put her hand out to shake on the introduction.

“Ian,” he replied. “I’d shake your hand but mine are kind of dirty.”

Ashley didn’t retract her hand. She looked him steadily in the eyes. “I don’t mind.”

Shrugging, he shook hands, both of them keeping contact a couple moments longer than

necessary. He liked the feel of her hand, and was intrigued by the look in her eyes. They

withdrew reluctantly. “Listen” she said. “I’d like to reward you somehow. How about I

take you out to lunch or something sometime?”

“You don’t have to reward me.”

She gave him a look that he knew well. “I’d still like to treat you to lunch.”

It must be his animal magnetism, Ian thought. Two women coming on to him in one

night. At least this one seemed normal. He smiled confidently. “Sure.”

They exchanged numbers and she got in her car. She gave him a small wave and a smile

as she drove off into the night. He watched her go and smiled himself.

The next day he was going over some contracts in his office. The part of his job that he

loved and was best at was making deals, persuading people to reach agreement and get

things done. He could do the detail work behind the deal – the number crunching and the

endless paperwork that came along with any real estate transaction – but he didn’t enjoy

it. “That’s the kind of shit my brother would enjoy,” he’d told Hank on several

occasions. Ian’s brother was an accountant and Ian thought his work must be

stupefyingly dull. Hank always smiled and told him that he had to understand all the

ways that the fine print could swing the deal from lucrative to a loser. Ian knew he was

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right but hated doing it nonetheless. When the phone rang he reached for it with

gratitude.

“Hello.”

“Hi, there.”

The voice was a woman’s, soft and somehow familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. He

hated to admit he didn’t know which of the women he knew might be calling him, so he

decided to bluff it out as long as he could. “How are you doing?”

“You don’t know who this is, do you?” The caller sounded more amused than annoyed

that she’d caught him.

“Well…is it Ashley?”

She laughed. “Ashley? Oh, my. No, I’m afraid it’s not Ashley. It’s Elina. Elina Jazy.”

He sat back in his chair. He hadn’t been sure she was going to call again, but he was glad

that she had. “Oh, Elina – I’m so glad you called. Are you interested in lunch again?”

“I was thinking more about dinner.”

So things were progressing, Ian thought with some pleasure. They decided to meet at a

restaurant they both knew around eight later that night, and they ended the call with a

smile on his face.

Ashley did end up calling. Ian already had a commitment for lunch, but they agreed to

get together the next day. She sounded slightly disappointed that she had to wait. She

could just want to be done with paying her off her perceived obligation, but somehow he

didn’t think so.

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Ian made sure he got out of work early enough to go home and change for his date with

Elina. He changed into slacks and a clean shirt, putting on a light sports jacket at the last

minute. She was, after all, a classy woman, and he found himself kind of wanting to

impress her.

He arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, wanting to beat her there. He waited

outside for her, and soon saw her car pull up to the valet. He smiled when she got out of

the car, her face in that characteristic serious look. She caught sight of him and her face

brightened. She gave him a small wave and walked briskly over towards him.

It was a joy to watch her walk. She moved with a purpose, and she didn’t have any of the

self-consciousness that many attractive women had. She was no runway model posing

for the crowd; she was just a beautiful woman moving gracefully from point A to point

B. She wore a light summer dress, with her bare legs in sandals. Her hair was pulled

back in a ponytail, and she appeared to have no make-up on. Her toes were painted but

her fingernails were plain. Most women would have gotten more adorned for a date – if

that was what this was – but Ian found her simplicity all the more attractive.

“You look great,” he told her honestly.

“You, too,” she told him drolly, not entirely believing him but glad he said it anyway.

They agreed to eat up on the deck, overlooking the water. It was a warm night and the

deck was filled with other young couples. They ordered some wine and inspected the

menu. It was eclectic, mostly nouveau American with unusual twists. They compared

notes, and ordered.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to call,” Ian told her.

“I told you I would,” Elina replied.

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“I hate to break it to you, but people don’t always keep their word about promises like

that.”

“Well,” Elina said, looking at him steadily. “I do.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ian told her.

They got to know each other better over dinner. Ian recounted growing up all over the

world. His father had been in the Marines and it seemed they were always moving, from

one posting to another. Sometimes it was a Marine base, sometimes an embassy or other

outpost. It taught him a lot about adapting to new situations and new people, he told her,

and had given him lots of opportunities to see the world that most people never do. “Of

course,” he admitted, “when you’re five Greece is mostly interesting for the beach, not a

bunch of ruins.”

“Don’t worry,” she advised him. “Most of the people I know would still hit the beaches

instead of the historical finds, and they don’t even have the excuse of being five.”

Elina told him that her family had come to the U.S. when she was a baby. Her mother

had died not long after. “I don’t really remember her that well,” she confessed, looking

wistfully out at the water. “It seems like every year I remember less and less about her.”

Ian reached out and took her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she responded, and

squeezed his hand gratefully. He saw her eyes tear up and was afraid she was going to

cry, but she recovered and her face resumed its normal slightly sad expression. At least

now Ian understood why she might look that way.

After dinner neither seemed eager to call it a night, so Ian suggested a walk along the

water, and Elina quickly accepted. The twilight made the evening seem mysterious, and

they nodded familiarly to the other people they came across.

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“You’re kind of a funny girl,” he told her after a period of silence.

“Oh, yeah, I’m a lot of laughs.” She didn’t seem upset about it.

“No, I mean you’re unusual. I never quite know what you are thinking,” he told her.

What he meant to say was, I never know if you are sad or happy, but somehow he didn’t

know how to say that.

“Maybe that is just as well.”

Elina didn’t seem compelled to make small talk, so Ian was content to walk along with

her. On the way back he had a sudden idea. “Hey, there’s a club I know,” he said,

pointing out a small hideaway in the next block. “Let’s get a drink.”

He wasn’t sure that she would accept. Perhaps she wanted to call it an evening and go

home, but she nodded gravely at him and he steered her towards it.

There wasn’t much of a crowd, but there rarely was. It was a small place, with years of

history and consistent in its refusal to play to whatever the current fad was. It stuck with

the bar and live music, and attracted a regular crowd. It was not a place to come to be

seen, but it was a good place to come if you wanted to listen.

There was a jazz trio playing on the small stage, so they got a table in the corner and

ordered a round of drinks. Ian had his usual Scotch, while Elina ordered a glass of wine.

“You like music?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” he told her. “My mother insisted.”

“How do you mean?”

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“Well, like I told you, my dad was a Marine. Semper Fi through and through. He got my

older brother. I was the afterthought, eight years younger, and my mother was

determined to put her imprint on me.”

“That sounds serious. How did she do that?”

“Oh, she took me to museums, taught me about art, made me take dancing lessons…”

“So that’s why you are such a good dancer,” she exclaimed.

“Thanks for noticing. Yeah, even my dad encouraged that – he told me chicks love men

who can dance.”

“‘Chicks’?” she repeated with a slight frown.

“You have to know my dad,” he told her with raised eyebrows.

“So where does music fit into all this?”

“So I had piano lessons along with all the other cultural shit.”

“And you put it so eloquently,” she said with a small smile. “You really play the piano?”

“I really do. Or I used to; I don’t play much anymore.”

“Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

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“I said prove it,” she said, her head tilted defiantly. She nodded towards the stage, where

the trio was taking a break. He gave her a searching look. “You’re serious?”

“I am.” Indeed, she looked serious, but, then again, she usually did.

Ian thought about it, but only a second. He was always up for a dare. “Wait here.” He

got up and went to talk to the musicians. It took some convincing, but once they

understood why he was asking they relented. Grinning laviciously at Elina, the pianist

agreed to let him use the piano. Ian motioned Elina over to the piano.

“What do you want to hear?”

“Surprise me.”

Ian started with some scales, just to warm up, then eased into some Billy Joel. “Hey,

you’re pretty good,” she told him with surprise.

“Be quiet.”

He played some Elton John, some Cole Porter, even some Chopin. “That was just to

show off,” he told her of the latter. “I haven’t played that since my ninth grade recital.”

“It shows,” said the trio’s pianist. He had moved nearby, along with his partners. “Don’t

give up your day job.” Despite the negative comments, they seemed to enjoy his playing,

as did the other people in the bar.

“I think he’s doing very well,” Elina protested.

“He’s not bad,” the pianist admitted.

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“I can take a hint,” Ian said, finishing with a flourish and acceding the piano to its rightful

owner. They retreated to their table amid scattered applause from the few other patrons.

Ian took a few mock bows along the way.

“You’re a funny guy,” Elina told him seriously. She studied him intently, and Ian wasn’t

sure if she was intentionally repeating his statement of earlier to her or not.

“Oh, yeah, I’m a lot of laughs,” he said, repeating her statement.

She suppressed a smile. “In my case, my sarcasm was justified, but you actually are a lot

of laughs. I suspect you always manage to entertain whomever you are with.”

“Are you being entertained?” he teased.

“More than you know,” she said quite seriously. “You seem like you might be just

another guy, then you have these flashes of this other side – the dancing, the music, or a

sweet gesture like back at the restaurant when we were talking about my mom.”

“I think I’m going to blush,” Ian said easily.

“You don’t like being complimented, do you?”

Ian cocked his head. “Methinks the beautiful lady protests too much.”

Elina did, indeed, seem uncomfortable with the compliment. “I’m not beautiful.”

“You are beautiful…and mysterious, warm, deep. Should I go on?”

“There’s more?”

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“I like it when you smile. Which you should do more often, by the way. I’d like to help

you smile more.”

She nodded at him thoughtfully, playing idly with her drink. “Perhaps you’ll get the

chance. I just hope you wouldn’t be disappointed.”

He held her eyes for a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.” They went back to the

waterfront. It had cooled off, so Ian took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“See? That’s what I mean. You’re so thoughtful.”

Ian shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m just happy being with you. What I don’t know is if

you’re happy.”

He had expected that comment to provoke a look from her, but instead she looked away,

to the peaceful water. He was just about to give up and say something else when she

spoke up quietly, still not looking at him. “I’m happy now. I like being with you.”

“I’m glad.”

“You’re happy a lot, aren’t you?” she asked, looking at him closely.

He shrugged, not sure what to say. He smiled broadly. “Yea, sure. What’s not to be

happy about?”

She seemed puzzled. “Indeed,” she agreed half-heartedly. She looked away, then spoke

in a small voice. “Why would you think I wasn’t happy?”

Ian sighed. “I don’t know. You have this…pensive quality about you.”

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“‘Pensive’? That’s very diplomatic of you, Ian. I’ve heard lots worse than that.” She

suddenly seemed lost in that pensive world of hers again, and Ian struggled to think how

she’d gotten there so quickly.

They had reached the bar’s parking lot. They gave their claim checks to the valets, who

scurried off to retrieve their cars. “I think most men find me dull,” Elina told him

unexpectedly.

“‘Dull’? I don’t think anyone could find you dull.”

“Evidently you’re wrong. I don’t have a lot of luck with men.”

The valet returned with Elina’s car and held the door for her. She hesitated, looking at

Ian. She seemed to be waiting for something. Ian didn’t know what to say, but felt he

couldn’t just let this lovely evening end on a note like that. “You’re having lots of luck

with me, Elina. I have a good feeling about this.”

She smiled then, a brave but real smile. “I hope you’re right.” She got in the car.

“Call me,” he said, half a question and half a plea. He felt faintly ridiculous saying it like

that in front of the valets, pleading like a high school girl with her first boyfriend, but

he’d be damned if he was going to let her drive off without bringing up the topic of their

next date.

She waved at him and drove off. The valets looked with him as the car faded into the

distance. Instead of giving him scornful looks, they looked back at him with respect.

“You’re a lucky man, dude,” one of them told him. The others nodded.

“I’m beginning to think so,” Ian agreed.

He got in his car and went home.

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Chapter 8

He had lunch with Ashley at Tony’s, a small and venerable Italian restaurant on the

outskirts of downtown. It had been there for fifty years, and its wooden floors and brick

walls showed the passage of time. The accumulated presence of those decades of tastes

and smells – both the food and the patrons – gave the place a flavor that was unique. One

couldn’t replicate the atmosphere by hanging lots of old pictures garnered by some

corporate buyer at flea markets. Ian liked the food, the red and white checked

tablecloths, and Tre, the grandson of the original Tony. His father, Junior, still made the

pasta every morning, and if you arrived earlier enough for lunch you might catch a

glimpse of him kneading the dough into what would become lunch or dinner. Tre greeted

him with a smile and a warm handshake, and steered him towards Ashley’s table with a

wink.

Ian thought that Ashley seemed somewhat nervous. She was cheerful and friendly, but

he was good at reading people and he was pretty sure that she was not as relaxed as she

was trying to make him believe she was. Ian carried the conversation, skillfully asking

just enough questions to keep her engaged without prying, while using his considerable

ability as a raconteur to entertain her with stories from his experiences. Some were even

true.

He learned that she was an elementary school teacher, which told him something about

her income and made him doubly glad that he had declined her suggestion that they go to

a better known five star French restaurant. She would find Tony’s more affordable, as

well as more colorful. She had moved to the area to take a job at a suburban grade

school, but had recently moved closer to downtown because she hadn’t enjoyed living in

the suburbs.

“The commute is worse but I figure it will be worth it,” she told him with a smile.

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“Enjoying the nightlife, eh?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, “but things are looking up.”

Ashley seemed unusually attentive, hanging on his every word with a bright smile. She

was wearing a sleeveless blouse and a pair of slacks, but carried it off well. She was

definitely a pretty girl, but he couldn’t quite get a read on what she was doing. He

thought she might be interested in him – certainly she looked like she was interested in

what he had to say – or she might simply be repaying a debt she felt for his having

changed her tire. When they ended lunch with a friendly handshake, he wasn’t quite sure

what she was thinking or what he wanted to do in regards to her. She had given him her

phone number; maybe he would call it, or maybe he wouldn’t.

It turned out that she took the choice from him. The next day she called him on his cell.

“I’ve got tickets,” she said triumphantly.

“To what?”

At lunch they had compared notes about musical tastes, and Ian had mentioned that one

of his favorite bands was playing a club date the next day. The club was sold out, and

even scalpers were in short supply. Ashley told him she had, miraculously, obtained

tickets.

“How’d you do that?” he asked in amazement.

“I know a guy who knows a guy,” she told him. “Want to go?”

He picked her up that evening in front of her building. It was an expensive condominium

building, and he wondered how she could afford it. Either grade school teachers made a

hell of a lot more money than he thought or she had other sources of money – maybe

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family money, or perhaps a boyfriend she had neglected to mention. She met him outside

her building as he pulled up. “Hey there,” she said cheerfully.

“You look great,” he told her. It was true. Unlike her somewhat conservative outfit from

lunch, she was wearing tight jeans, three inch heels, and a belly shirt that showed a toned

abdomen as well as some cleavage. Her breasts weren’t unusually large – no implants

here – but nicely rounded and firm, from a quick visual check. He began to reevaluate

his ambivalence towards his next steps in regards to her.

The band was loud, raucous, and thoroughly enjoyable. The club was entirely crowded,

wall to wall people pressed together like sardines. It made conversation quite difficult, so

they simply stood with the rest of the crowd and listened or danced. The lights strobed

and flashed, creating a scene that was dark, fluid, and almost mysterious. He watched her

sway to the music, her eyes often closed in concentration or perhaps rapture. He liked the

way she moved, and he didn’t mind her standing close against him.

The band had played for almost three hours, and the crowd seemed, if anything, to get

denser and denser. After it was over they emerged to a world that seemed extraordinarily

dark and quiet by comparison. “I think I’m deaf,” Ashley said, clutching her ears for

relief.

“Well, if I’m going deaf I’m glad I got to hear that,” Ian replied. He took her arm

protectively. “That was awesome.”

They walked in silence to his car, and he drove back to her building, comparing

impressions of the concert along the way. She seemed looser than she had at lunch, and

got caught up sharing her observations with him. He listened with half an ear, paying

more attention to how she was saying things than what she was saying.

When he pulled up to her building he killed the engine but neither of them made a move

to get out. They sat there for a minute in silence.

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“I had a great time,” Ian told her, looking over at her sincerely. “Thanks again for getting

those tickets. Thank your friend for me.”

Ashley had her head bent slightly downwards, watching her hand idly run over the

dashboard. She smiled briefly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She looked out the window,

as if surprised to find herself here. Then she looked back at him and smiled.

“Want me to walk you up?” Ian asked, taking a gamble.

There was just the slightest moment of uncertainty on her face – almost an expression of

panic – before she gained control and gave him a confident smile. “Not tonight. I’ve got

school tomorrow and I’m going to be dragging as it is. Another time?”

“Another time it is,” he agreed. She leaned in and gave him an awkward hug in the

confined space.

He drove home wondering about her. There was something about her that he hadn’t

figured out. Her vibe was off somehow, and he concluded either she was still getting

over someone, or perhaps was still involved in a relationship that was heading south. He

knew when a woman was giving off availability signals and hers were definitely mixed.

She wasn’t trying to be coy, but he could tell.

That wasn’t all there was to it. On the surface, Ashley seemed very happy. She smiled a

lot and was uniformly cheerful. Still, Ian thought it was all for show, that somewhere

there was a sad woman waiting to emerge. Maybe that was why he thought there was

some relationship jones going on with her, that she had to work through her own personal

griefs before moving on. Of course, if it happened with her, it wouldn’t be the first time

he’d be the recipient of post-breakup libido, as spurned lovers seek to get some solace

with new lovers. He could think of worse things that could happen, and weaved a few

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fantasies about what some of the more enjoyable outcomes could be. Amorous

schoolteacher, after all – lots of opportunities there.

When he pulled up to his townhouse he was surprised to find someone sitting on his front

steps. It was almost two in the morning, and he didn’t normally get company at that

hour, at least not during the week.

“Hey there, stranger,” Elina said, standing up. “Feel like some company?”

Chapter 9

“Elina,” he said in surprise, standing by his car. “What are you doing here?” He was

glad that he hadn’t spent the night at Ashley’s or brought her home with him – either

would be awkward to explain. He wondered just briefly why he was worried about

justifying himself to a woman he had really only been out with once.

“I thought I’d see where you live. Is it too late?” She continued to stand resolutely on

his steps. She was wearing a long coat against the cool late night air and she clutched the

front of it protectively.

He looked around – at what, he couldn’t have said. Perhaps to see if anyone was

watching, perhaps to escape that intent gaze of hers. Being in a situation of deciding

whether he and a woman where going to go inside together – which usually really meant

go to bed together – was not at that uncommon. Having women show up on his steps

unexpectedly was not even all that unusual. Still, Elina had such a serious look on her

face. He was used to seeing women look excited, sometimes uncertain or even

apprehensive, but he couldn’t recall anyone viewing it quite as seriously as Elina seemed

to be. She had come to him, after all, but she looked like this was a grave decision, as if

their lives depended on it. He’d come to understand that Elina was a more serious person

than most other people he knew, but suddenly he realized that there might be something

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more at stake here. She wasn’t someone he could have a casual roll in the sack with.

There would be consequences to what they did next. He took a deep breath to clear his

head. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind. He grinned and looked firmly back at

her. “Nah, we’re always open. Come on in.”

He walked over to her and went up the steps. He opened the door and looked back at her.

“Well, come on in.”

She looked up at him for a moment with that wry expression of hers, and came into his

house. He took her coat, revealing that she was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, with a

pair of simple flats. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Maybe some water.”

They went to the kitchen, with Elina slowly surveying his living room along the way. Ian

was not the neatest person in the world but he was glad it was not too much of a mess –

no underwear or half-empty pizza boxes laying around, at least not in plain view. He

took out a bottle of water and handed it to her. She took an appreciative sip.

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Oh, let’s see,” she said. She checked her watch and frowned. “Long enough. You’re

out late – or is this normal for you?”

He leaned back against the counter. “No, not usually.” He told her about going to the

concert, her face expressing some envy at his good fortune. She looked at his

refrigerator, which was filled with photos and postcards. Many of them were from some

of his more exotic trips, showing him or friends in the hiking in the Rockies, skiing in the

Alps, scuba diving in the Caribbean, and camping in Alaska.

“You do get around, don’t you?”

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“I try.”

She looked again at the pictures. “You seem to like the outdoors.”

Ian pulled a photo from the door at random and smiled appreciatively at it as he

remembered the scene. “Yeah, that’s part of why I live here. I came out here in college,

on a ski trip,” he told her. “I fell in love with the place and came back every chance I got.

After school I just moved here and have been here ever since. What about you? You

grow up here?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I went to a lot of private schools as a kid, in a lot of different

places. But I guess this is as much home as anyplace.” She didn’t sound all that happy

about it, which Ian didn’t quite know what to make of. He liked it here and had no desire

to leave. Maybe she was one of those girls that wanted to be in LA or New York and

everything else was small change. No, she would be more of a Paris or London kind of

girl, he decided, nothing so shallow as LA or hardened as New York. Elina turned to the

array of pictures. “Who are these kids?” she asked, pointing to several photos with a

young boy and a girl, some of which had him playing with them.

“My niece and nephew. I’m their godfather, if you can believe that.”

She nodded thoughtfully and continued to inspect his collection. “And who is this

couple?” She pointed to a photo of an older couple on a deep sea fishing boat. They

were standing next to a large fish, perhaps a marlin. The man was strongly built, with

gray hair shorn close to his scalp in a crew cut. He had a victorious expression on his

face. The woman seemed bemused about the whole thing, her face shadowed by

sunglasses and a baseball cap.

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“That’s my folks,” Ian admitted. “That picture sort of typifies them for me – dad

conquering something, and mom standing next to him watching but never expressing her

disapproval.”

“Disapproval?”

“That’s probably too strong. Let’s say ‘reservations.’”

Elina looked at him. “You told me they were different.”

Ian nodded. “You could say that. I think it is safe to say that they’d have had a different

life if she’d have been the pilot instead of the copilot.”

Elina looked at him, then back at the woman. “You look like her.”

Ian laughed. “I can think of worse things.” It appeared to Ian that -- even though they

had been talking about his mother, and he had told her a lot more about his mother than

his father -- she was looking more intently at the image of his father. He mentally sighed.

It was something that he was used to; his father had a way of commanding attention,

without even trying. He was used to it but not necessarily comfortable with it. “Want to

see the rest of the house?”

She assented, and he walked her around. It was not a huge place – two bedrooms, a

study, and a living room, plus the deck – but it was home to him and he took some

pleasure in showing it to her. In the study she was drawn to yet another picture, this one

of him as a young boy. He was perhaps eight, out camping with his brother. He looked

like a little savage, sunburned and happy. “Is this you?” she asked, picking up the picture

to view it more closely. Ian nodded and sat down at his desk facing her. She continued

to look at the picture, at the boy who would become the man. “You look so cute. Who is

that with you?”

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“My brother.”

“He looks like your father.”

Ian agreed. Elina put the picture down with a long last look, and sat down on the small

couch across from him. “Is your brother a lot like you?”

Ian shook his head. “Nah, we’re pretty different. He’s my father’s son and I’m my

mother’s son.”

“But not a momma’s boy,” she teased.

“No. Joe likes to follow the rules. I mean, the guy was a Boy Scout, an Eagle Scout --

for real.”

“And you weren’t?”

Ian grinned. “Well, not after I blew up the Scoutmaster’s mailbox.”

“You didn’t!” Elina made a show of dismay.

“It was just some fireworks. It wasn’t my fault that he had a crappy mailbox.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t seem convinced. “Are you and your brother close?”

Ian exhaled and ran his hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture. “Not really. I

mean, when I was a kid I worshipped him. He was the Eagle Scout, straight A’s, captain

of all the teams – you name it. The golden boy. But, you know, when I got a little older

he wasn’t around so much – he’s eight years older – and I kind of rebelled against being

like him. I played lacrosse instead of football, I partied more than studied, and I

definitely was no boy scout.”

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Elina listened without giving any kind of reaction. She had that pensive look on her face

again. He wondered if she had brothers or sisters, and if she was thinking about what he

said or was somewhere else entirely. “But, you know, I always thought he was there for

me,” Ian said.

That got her attention. She looked over at him with genuine curiosity. “How so?”

“I’ll tell you a story. The incident with the mailbox wasn’t my first problem with

fireworks. I guess I was about six and I set off a string in a neighbor’s dog house.” She

appeared horrified about that, so he hurriedly continued. “I mean, the dog wasn’t in the

doghouse or anything – but he did start barking like hell.

“Anyway, the neighbor was out back barbequing with a bunch of his friends, and they’d

been drinking. They caught me and didn’t take too kindly to me scaring their dog like

that.”

“What’d they do?” She leaned forward.

“Well, they grabbed me and dragged me over to the grill. They were saying shit about

maybe cutting off my arm and grilling it, to teach me a little lesson or something.”

“Did you believe them?”

Joe’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I was six. I didn’t know exactly what adults’

limits were. I knew it was wrong but I wasn’t sure how wrong it was. I thought maybe

they could do stuff like that. I was crying and yelling for them to let me go, scared

shitless. Meanwhile, my buddies had gone and told my brother what was going on.”

“Where was your dad?”

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Ian thought back. “I’m not sure. Maybe overseas; he sometimes was stationed over there

while we stayed stateside. Or maybe he was on maneuvers. Anyway, he wasn’t around,

so they got my brother. He came running and told them to leave me alone.”

“How’d they react to that?”

“Well, you know, initially they laughed and started talking trash to him too. Looking

back I don’t think they were ever going to really hurt me. Sure, they wanted to scare me,

and maybe they’d have given me a little burn or something, but once they’d had their fun

they’d have let me go. Then along comes this kid. Joe was good sized for his age, but he

was still only thirteen or fourteen, and was just a kid, especially compared to them.

There were five or six of them, and they’d definitely had too much to drink. No

inhibitions, you know?”

Elina seemed to shiver. “Then what?” She sounded anxious, listening to a story Ian

hadn’t thought of in years.

Ian grinned, enjoying the memory even after all these years. “Joe stood them down. He

told them if anyone was going to punish me, it’d be my dad, not them. They taunted him

about what he was going to do about it, and Joe told them that he was leaving with me.

He was so calm, so utterly in control of himself. I remember looking at him and

suddenly feeling safe. I thought he could beat up the whole lot of them if he had to.

Whatever was going to happen, I knew he wasn’t leaving without me.”

Elina gave him a direct look. “And?”

Ian laughed. “Joe stared them down for a couple more seconds, and then they let me go,

trying to pretend it was all a big joke. Joe walked me home, then gave me shit about

doing something so stupid.”

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Elina stood up and went over to the picture again, smiling faintly. In the younger Ian she

saw the same joyful fearlessness that had attracted her so much to the adult version.

When she’d first looked at the photo, his older brother just looked like a good-looking

teenager, amiable but without the same abandon that Ian practically radiated. Looking

closer at the picture now, though, she thought she could see something more behind that

smile, behind the comfortable gaze. She thought she saw a resolve that was unusual in

adults and remarkable for someone so young. There was more to Ian’s brother than he let

on, she concluded. “It’s too bad you say you didn’t stay that close.”

Ian stood up and joined her, standing a few inches from her but more aware of those boys

in the photo. He shrugged. “We see each other at holidays and such, or if he comes

through town on business, but we’re just different. Like, he’s quiet, I’m talkative.”

“I’ll say!” she said with mock emphasis. “What else?”

Ian ignored her dig. “He’s been married for years, has the two kids, he’s an accountant.

He lives outside Philly. We just don’t have much in common. But I’ll tell you what.”

She turned to him and met his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve always had that feeling that he was there for me.” Ian felt kind of embarrassed, but

her eyes were almost imploring him to continue. “That sounds silly, I know, but he’s still

my big brother.”

She reached out and touched his arm tenderly. “That doesn’t sound silly at all.”

They stood there in silence for a few moments, their eyes locked. She seemed to be

searching for something in his, while we was just enjoying the view. He was close

enough to lean in and kiss her, but he refrained. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t think she

would object, but neither was he sure that she wanted him to. Finally she seemed to

make up her mind. “May I use your bathroom?”

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That wasn’t quite what Ian was expecting. “Oh, sure. Use either one.”

She went into his bedroom to use his bathroom, and he stood and stared at the picture of

Joe and him. So many years ago. He really used to worship Joe, until he’d gotten to the

age when worship turned to rebellion, then to apathy. He was suddenly sorry he hadn’t

made more time to visit Joe and his wife, see their kids. He resolved to take a trip soon.

“Ian?”

Her voice called from the bedroom. He wondered what she wanted. Maybe the toilet

wouldn’t flush or something; the plumbing could be temperamental at times. “Yes?”

“Could you come here?”

The light in the bathroom was on, and she was standing in the doorway framed by the

light. He immediately noticed things were different. For one thing, she wasn’t wearing

any pants. For another thing, that looked like one of his old shirts she was wearing. He

was taken aback, and just stood there speechless. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“It’s getting late,” Elina said quietly. “Would you mind if I slept here?”

Ian didn’t need to think long about that. “Are you sure?” he asked, just to be polite. She

nodded gravely, so he stripped down to his boxers while she slipped under the covers.

They left the bathroom light on.

She came into his arms like they were magnets attracting each other. He held her and

softly brushed her hair. She was trembling slightly, and he murmured reassuring words

into her ear, holding her close. They hadn’t even kissed, and he wasn’t entirely sure they

were going to. Maybe she just wanted company, someone to hold her for the night. That

wouldn’t be so bad, although it would be very difficult for him.

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“So I never knew that picture had this kind of effect on women,” he joked, trying to

lighten the mood. She looked up at him, realizing slowly that he was joking. “You jerk,”

she said, not meaning it.

“Well, this is kind of sudden, don’t you think?”

She nodded solemnly. “I thought if I didn’t do it now I might never get a chance. I’ve

never done something like this before, just so you know.”

“I believe you.”

“I told you I don’t have good luck with men.”

“That’s changing, honey. I told you I had a good feeling about things.”

Elina pushed away enough to give him an intense look. She searched his face, and

evidently made up her mind. She unbuttoned the shirt and took it off. Ian was glad he’d

left the bathroom light on, as it cast a soft light over her lovely body. She acted like she

was ashamed of it, but he brushed aside her half-hearted attempts to cover herself.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he told her with a catch in his voice. He caressed the length of her back,

continuing down to her legs. Her skin was soft, her muscles firm. She suddenly kissed

him hard. Her tongue came into his mouth ravenously, and he responded with equal

fervor. His hands never stopped caressing her, on every part of her body he could touch.

He could feel she was trembling.

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She rolled over on her back and tried to pull him on top of her. “Hey, honey,” he said,

breaking off the kiss in surprise. “There’s no hurry. Let’s take our time.”

Much to his surprise, she started crying. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked in amazement.

She buried her face in his chest, continuing to sob. He started to stroke her hair tenderly.

“Here, here. It’s OK. It’s OK. Tell me what’s wrong.”

After a minute or two she regained some composure, but kept her face buried. “You

don’t want me.”

Once again, her was astonished. “Believe me, nothing could be further from the truth.

What in the world would give you that idea?”

She pulled back and looked at him. “Because you turned me down.”

Ian gaped. “I didn’t turn you down. I just didn’t want to hurry through it. This all

happened pretty quickly and I wanted us to enjoy it. Is that wrong?”

“No,” she admitted.

Ian was bemused to realize that he was sounding like the woman in this situation. It was

pretty ironic. He should have just blasted in, taken advantage of her willingness, and

gone to sleep. If she had been someone like, say, Dani, he might have. But Elina was

something different altogether. “Besides, we didn’t have any protection.”

Elina sighed. “I’m so bad at this. No wonder I never can hang on to a man.”

Ian snorted. “I can’t imagine that’s a problem. I’d expect you’d have trouble keeping

guys away, not keeping them.”

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“Well, you’d be wrong.”

He pulled her to face him, and his face assumed a tender expression. “Well, those other

guys must have been crazy. I barely know you and I’m crazy about you.”

It would be hard to tell which of the two of them were most surprised by this admission.

Having said it, Ian examined it carefully, and found he could not fault the truth of it. He

wasn’t used to admitting such a thing to himself, and he definitely was not used to telling

it to someone else. But here he had, and he was glad of it. Elina seemed to crack like an

egg. Ashley had seemed like a happy person waiting for sadness to overwhelm her, and

now Elina was a sad person whose happiness suddenly burst out of her. Her face lit up.

“Now, let’s do this right,” he told her hoarsely.

They made love three times, twice over the next hour and once in the morning after

they’d woken from their deep and satisfied sleep. Ian had been at his most attentive,

touching her and teasing her and generally driving her insane with passion before actually

entering her – with proper protection, of course. He would never forget the look on her

face as she climaxed each time, a mixture of joy, release, pleasure and surprise. He had

an accomplished record as a lover, but he’d never seen such passion or taken so much joy

in giving her pleasure. The more he touched her body, the more he craved that touch. He

even cuddled with her while they slept, not wanting her more than an inch away.

In between bouts, while they were recharging their sexual batteries and getting to test the

various ways they could touch and fit together, she told him a little about her life. She

told him that she’d been a gawky girl, all bones and angles, until sometime in college.

Between that and going to all girl schools, she didn’t even start dating until late in

college. By then her body had caught up to her beauty – “I’ll say!” Ian had

enthusiastically commented – but she didn’t have a sense of the game. She didn’t know

when men were just after her for her looks, her money, or just a roll in the sack.

Sounding more embarrassed than angry, Elina admitted to having had a long losing streak

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with men. He expected her to ask him if he was going to be another, but instead she’d

just tried to turn away. He’d had to coax her back towards him with tender kisses, first

on her naked back, then the nape of her neck, and finally on her cheek and those sensuous

lips. Still, he was wondering why those other men had let go apparently so easily. From

what he saw, she was worth holding on to, and they fell asleep that way, holding on tight

in each other’s arms.

She kissed him goodbye as she left early in the morning, and he fell back asleep with a

smile on his face.

Chapter 10

Jazy was having breakfast on the sun porch when Gaines came in the next morning.

Walker was sitting in a chair a few feet away from Jazy. Gaines sat down at the table

with Jazy and took a piece of toast. “Beautiful day,” he remarked casually, ignoring

Walker.

“How did last night go?” Jazy demanded, not interested in small talk and oblivious to the

weather.

“Excellent,” Gaines answered with satisfaction. “We got her the tickets and she took him

to the concert he wanted to go to. They were out pretty late.”

“Did he fuck her?” Walker broke in.

Gaines gave him a scornful look. “She’s not a hooker, moron. Just because the women

you hire for dates give you blow jobs in the first five minutes doesn’t mean all women do

that.” He looked back at Jazy. “They seemed to get along very well.”

“Did he fuck her?” Jazy asked, as if Walker hadn’t spoken.

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“No,” Gaines admitted. “She didn’t invite him up, but she’s getting to like him and she

thinks he likes her. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I’m not sure we have time.”

Gaines smiled. “Relax. We’ve got Elina’s phones tapped, and we tail her until she’s in

for the night. She hasn’t even called him since they had dinner, and that was before

things with our girl really had a chance to get going. Since then it’s been all her.”

Jazy grunted.

“Besides, you know Elina likes to take things slow,” Gaines pointed out. “Ms. Wilde

will be all over this guy before she gets around to calling him again.”

“He could call her,” Walker noted.

“Not if she doesn’t give him her phone number, which we’re pretty sure she hasn’t.”

Gaines took a bite of his toast, entirely confident. He was unaware that Elina had slipped

out after his men had stopped watching her apartment the night before, certain she

wouldn’t be going out so late. “The ball’s in her court and she’s too gun shy about dating

to be very aggressive. Ms. Wilde has plenty of time to cement his interest. You know, a

bird in the hand…”

“Shits on your fingers,” Jazy said meanly.

“I still think we should scare him off,” Walker grumbled. Gaines gave him a withering

look. He picked up a piece of bacon and dangled it. “Hey, Harold, look – bacon. Be a

good boy and I’ll give you some bacon.”

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Walker stood up in fury. “Shut the fuck up. My name’s not Harold either.” He started to

advance on Gaines, who watched in amusement.

“Sit down,” Jazy commanded. Walker looked at Gaines in fury, then sheepishly sat back

down, scowling. Jazy looked over at Gaines. “Why do you provoke him so?”

“It’s fun,” Gaines said lightly. He threw a piece of bacon over at Walker, as if he was

feeding a dog. Walker almost stood up again in anger before catching sight of Jazy’s

dark glance and slouching back in his chair. He muttered angrily to himself.

Jazy turned back to his food. “I’ve taken a few precautions of my own,” he said,

carefully cutting up his eggs and putting a bite in his mouth. “I’ve arranged for Elina to

go on business for two weeks. Perhaps she will have forgotten all about him by the time

she returns.”

“Or Ms. Wilde will have time to finish getting her hooks in by then,” Gaines said.

“Either way, our problem with Mr. Russell will soon resolve itself.”

Jazy was not one to assume problems were taken care of until they were. “We shall see.”

Chapter 11

Ian saw Ashley several times over the next two weeks. A picnic lunch in a park, a movie

and dinner, even a football game with luxury seats on the fifty-yard line. “A friend,”

Ashley replied enigmatically when Ian asked how she’d gotten such prized spots to the

always-sold-out games. Ian thought back to the concert tickets and the beyond-her-

means address, and wondered again about her circle of friends. She certainly didn’t put

on airs of being wealthy or of knowing important people.

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They continued to get along well, but things were not progressing romantically. For

once, Ian didn’t mind the slower than normal pace. He wasn’t quite sure which of them

was keeping things in the friends zone. She still seemed quite anxious that he like her;

she was steadily attentive and cheerful, listening to his every word and laughing at the

slightest provocation. Yet her desire to have him like her didn’t smack of the kind of

desperation he had occasionally seen in some commitment-anxious young women. There

was something else about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

The funny thing was that he did like her, perhaps even in spite of this mysterious pressure

she put upon it. She was attractive and smart, and there was a gentleness underneath the

brittle cheerfulness that he found quite appealing. For his own part, he wondered how

much of his own reticence was due to thoughts of Elina. She hadn’t called him since

their night together, and he thought it possible that she had just used him for sexual

release. Unlikely, but possible. She didn’t seem the type for one night stands, and their

passion had seemed genuine, not simple lust. Yet, still, she didn’t call. Despite that, he

thought about her a lot, and it made him less interested in other women. Ian didn’t

usually have such qualms about exclusivity, at least not without some negotiation and

significant concessions. Without trying to – or, perhaps, as she had wanted to -- she had

captured his imagination.

When Ashley invited him over to her apartment for dinner he thought perhaps the logjam

would break. A romantic dinner alone, with the bedroom not far away, had often meant

good luck for Ian in the past. He arrived on time, armed with flowers and a nice bottle of

wine. She met him at the door, looking quite alluring – barefoot, a pair of shorts, and a

shirt tied off in a knot at the abdomen. It wasn’t risqué, but her outfit showed off her legs

and flat stomach quite nicely, and hinted at the swell of her breasts. She looked fully in

bloom and sexy as hell. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and seemed glad to see him.

“You look great,” he told her, holding her at arm’s length to view her better. “Where’s

your chef’s hat?”

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She beamed at his praise. “It’s not that kind of place.”

She led him in and sat him down at the kitchen counter. He offered to uncork the wine,

and they both had a glass. Ian tasted his as he watched Ashley bustle in the kitchen.

“Going to take me on the tour, or should I do that while you tend to the food?”

She had several things going on at once, pots on the stove top, something in the oven, the

microwave implacably clicking off seconds as it irradiated some innocent piece of food,

and what looked like the beginning of a salad. “You go ahead,” she told him, pausing in

the middle of slicing some carrots. “I’ll go back to slaving away at my hot stove.”

“And barefoot, no less,” he replied. He stood up. “You don’t have anything else to add

to that, do you?” She threw a dish towel at him and he retreated, both of them laughing.

He wandered through her home. It was very nice, like a decorator storm had swept

through and organized everything. There were three bedrooms, a study, a living room,

three bathrooms, and, of course, the well-equipped kitchen. The furniture looked

expensive, and the artwork, vases, and other accessories were both plentiful and tasteful.

He was again struck by how she could have afforded this all on her teacher’s salary. He

knew real estate and he’d seen the homes of lots of well-to-do people, and he could guess

pretty accurately how much all this cost. He knew he couldn’t have afforded it. She had

never mentioned rich parents or an ex-husband that might have provided all this, but he

increasingly thought there had to be one of those kinds of explanations. Maybe she’d

won the lottery.

The thing was, there was no touch of Ashley in the place. Oh, maybe she’d have picked

out the poster bed or the curtains, but there were none of those little personal touches

people add to their homes. Souvenirs from favorite trips. Frequently played CDs laying

on top of the CD player. Drawings by nieces or nephews hanging on the refrigerator. He

thought of his own crowded refrigerator door, and wondered – where were all her

photographs? There were no pictures of her parents, her friends, or places she’d been. It

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was as though this was a very nice hotel that she was staying in. The place had no past

and none of her personality.

He returned to the kitchen. “Very nice,” he said, watching her efficiently manage the

food.

“Thanks,” she replied, glancing over at him quickly. He thought she might have said that

more automatically than with any genuine sense of pride about her home, but then chided

himself for getting too caught up in trying to figure her out. Maybe she didn’t like herself

in photographs. What the hell did he care?

They had a lovely dinner. She proved to be quite a good cook, and glowed at his praises

about the food. She’d baked some pasta, with homemade meatballs included, and had

also made a broccoli soufflé, some vegetable soup, and fresh baked rolls. “You made all

of this?” he asked dubiously. “Like from scratch?”

“Well,” she said, looking guilty. “I bought the butter.”

The table was lit with candles and set with an elegant tablecloth and silver. It was like

sitting in an expensive yet intimate restaurant, only here the chef cooked, served, and ate

with him, and looked great to boot. He definitely would recommend the experience.

Their conversation was light, teasing and simple. As usual, when conversation showed

even the slightest sign of ebbing he regaled her with anecdotes from his life, imagined or

otherwise, while she smiled and offered suitable responses but rarely told stories of her

own.

Curiously, she seemed to grow, if anything, slightly more tense instead of more relaxed

as the evening went on. In Ian’s experience, a bottle or two of wine, a nice dinner and

good conversation usually put women at ease and ready for the next level, but as dessert

– a homemade pie, of course -- wrapped down he was thinking that things still weren’t

right for any kind of advance. He helped with the dishes, and there was a moment at the

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sink where he had an opportunity to lean over and kiss her. It would have been both easy

and natural, and if she wasn’t interested he would have the pretext of simply trying to

thank her for dinner. He paused, and knew that both of them knew what he was pausing

for. Without realizing that he was watching her, he was aware that she unconsciously

stiffened and moved away just the slightest bit. She might have just been adjusting her

balance, and had he not been paying close attention he would have never noticed. But he

had.

He let the moment pass, instead splashing her lightly and provoking an indignant squeak

from her. They moved apart and finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

Ashley had rented several DVDs, and proposed that they watch a movie. He agreed, but

immediately vetoed the Meg Ryan option. They adjourned to the luxurious couch in

front of the home entertainment center with its wide screen TV, and discussed the

remaining movies. They agreed on a Ben Stiller comedy that had been quite popular but

which neither of them had seen. Ian settled in on the couch with Ashley sitting next to

him, her bare legs curled up underneath her. He put his legs up on the coffee table in

front of him, first asking her permission. “I don’t want to scratch your furniture,” he said

politely, shrugging.

“Ah, what the hell,” she said, smiling impishly back at him. “But take your shoes off and

get comfortable first.”

At first they laughed and offered commentary on the movie – Ian more than Ashley – but

they gradually grew more engrossed. Ashley seemed to move closer to him, inch by inch

without giving any appearance of trying to, and Ian thought again of making a move on

her. It wasn’t that he didn’t know any women who were just friends, and it certainly

wasn’t that the signals from her were unequivocal. It was more that he was kind of

perplexed about what she wanted from him, and testing the physical limits would be a

way to find out. When she was close enough he put his arm around her and again noticed

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that she didn’t resist, but didn’t exactly melt into his arms either. So he left it at that and

watched the movie.

For the last twenty minutes or so of the movie he was aware that she had fallen asleep.

She lay inert against him, sleeping deeply. She slept like an innocent child, and tucked in

tight with his arm around her. Usually they at least have sex with me first, he noted to

himself with some regret, before they do that. They don’t usually fall asleep before any

action.

Sitting there with her sleeping quietly next to him, he thought that she had never seemed

quite as comfortable with him as she did at that moment. Perhaps that was what she was

looking for. Comfort, feeling safe – perhaps that was why she had had been trying so

hard with him, because she wants someone to make her feel that way, but she couldn’t

admit it or ask for it directly. Ian wasn’t sure why she wanted that comfort so badly, and

was even less sure he could really give it to her even if he wanted to. It worried him.

When the movie was over, he woke her and called it a night. She seemed dismayed that

she had fallen asleep. “No, don’t go,” she urged, looking slightly panicked. “I’m awake

now.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” he assured her. “You looked like you were ready for bed. I’ll let

you get to sleep for real.”

She made polite protests, but acquiesced with some not-entirely-hidden relief. At the

door, she gave him a long hug. When they pulled apart they looked at each other for a

long moment, and again Ian thought that in other circumstances he might have kissed her.

Instead, he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the check. “See you later,” he told her

lightly. She nodded gratefully and closed the door.

When he arrived home Elina was waiting on his steps again.

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Chapter 12

“It’s a fucking disaster,” Jazy growled. It was early morning, and he was in his study

behind his desk. He was still wearing his bathrobe but had been fully briefed on the

previous night’s activities. Walker and Gaines were with him, Walker standing

uncomfortably to the side of the desk and Gaines sitting looking quite relaxed in one of

the chairs in front of the desk. Jazy was angry, and when he was angry people around

him knew it. His face was red and he looked like he might literally explode from the

pent-up rage. He turned to glare at Gaines. “Your plan was too fucking subtle. We

should have just let Walker hurt him. That has always worked before.”

Walker beamed with pleasure. “Damn right,” he muttered righteously.

Gaines sat comfortably in his chair. He looked at Walker and shook his head

dismissively, then looked back at Jazy. “I’ll admit things haven’t gone exactly as

planned, but nothing is ruined yet. We just need to be patient and let things work out.”

Jazy was incredulous. “He doesn’t fuck with the bimbo you arranged but my daughter –

my daughter – spends the night with him? That’s not a disaster? What would be a

disaster for you, him knocking her up?”

“Relax…” Gaines started to say, putting out his hand in a cautionary move.

“Why didn’t you know she was going to see him?” Jazy bellowed.

Gaines took a deep breath. “I don’t know. We’ve been monitoring both of their calls and

she hadn’t called him since she’s been gone. Hell, I didn’t even know she was back in

town. Why she suddenly shows up at his door – I don’t know.”

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Jazy sat down, as though suddenly very fatigued. Walker had a concerned look on his

face, but both of them ignored him. “That’s Elina for you – always surprising you. She

never does quite what you expect,” Jazy said, sounding like a typical father unable to

control his strong-willed daughter. He sighed, the anger drained, and was all business

again. “So what now, my friend?”

Walker saw his opportunity. “Leave him to me.”

Jazy sized him up curiously. “And what is your plan?”

“I’ll scare him off, whatever it takes. If that means hurting him, I have no problem with

that.” Walker puffed up, larger than usual and bustling with energy with the prospect of

action.

Jazy nodded thoughtfully, considering this possibility carefully. He looked at Gaines,

who was ignoring Walker. “What do you think, Carl?”

Gaines pivoted his chair towards Walker. “Well, I’m not sure you can take him, to tell

you the truth,” he drawled lazily. The scorn was manifest.

That enraged Walker. He started towards Gaines. “Why, you mother-…”

Gaines was up in a flash, surprising Walker with his speed. Walker hadn’t really

expected to fight Gaines, at least not with Gaines prepared to fight back. Gaines sitting

down was one thing, but Gaines standing was quite another. Still, he knew he could not

back down now; Gaines would never let him forget it. Gaines’ hands were around

Walker’s neck before Walker knew what had happened. Suddenly Jazy slammed his

heavy hands on his desk and bellowed. “CEASE THIS!!”

Walker and Gaines paused immediately. Gaines smiled evilly at Walker and kissed

Walker on the cheek, just to totally humiliate him, then released him and sat back down

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as though nothing had happened. He looked completed relaxed again, while Walker still

stood breathing deeply and with his adrenaline fully up but with no where to spend it.

“You were saying?” Jazy prodded Gaines with the hint of a smile. He might have

enjoyed watching Gaines handle Walker, but not in his study. Besides, Walker might

still prove useful.

Gaines made a temple with his hands. “Well, we certainly need to make Ms. Wilde

increase her level of activity.”

“And if she doesn’t wish to?”

Gaines smiled with icy coldness. “We have leverage over her. She will do as we ask, or

suffer the consequences. She is not prepared to do that.”

Jazy wasn’t entirely convinced. “What if Russell just prefers Elina over this woman?

After all, Elina has considerable charms of her own.”

Gaines nodded. He was well aware of Elina’s endowments, in every aspect of the word.

“We just need him to sleep with Ms. Wilde once, and get evidence. Once that is

presented to your daughter I think she will soon lose any real interest she might currently

think she has in him.”

Jazy smiled for the first time since he had heard the news about his daughter’s late night

rendezvous. “She is not very forgiving about these things, is she?”

“As we have demonstrated before,” Gaines agreed. On several previous occasions he had

engineered infidelities of men that Elina had been interested in, and they had been even

less likely candidates for such behavior than Russell. It was amazing what one could do

with a willing prostitute or two, some drugs and alcohol, and a camcorder. The man

didn’t even have to remember the incident in question. The videotape made his memory

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or lack thereof quite superfluous. A staged infidelity did not require the man to perform

or even be conscious to be effective, just that he be caught in compromising positions.

Walker looked back and forth between them. “What about me?”

“We’ll let you know, Harold,” Gaines told him without looking at him. He continued

speaking to Jazy. “I may add a contingency or two to the plan, just in case.”

Chapter 13

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” Hank Myers asked.

It being late Saturday morning, Ian had joined Hank in one of Hank’s most familiar

endeavors. Each Saturday he went out and drove around, sat in malls, or otherwise

simply observed where people were. “You can read all the statistics you want,” he had

told Ian early in their working relationship, “but you can’t beat just seeing what people

really do.” So he spent hours each weekend trying to figure out what the patterns were,

whether one area was cooling off or another heating up, if people were sitting at sidewalk

cafes or shopping at Home Depot, and the like. If he hadn’t been in real estate, he joked,

he’d have made a great sociologist.

Hank was not a long ball hitter in the real estate world. Many of his counterparts were

the home run hitters, consumed in cycles of glorious success and infamous strikeouts.

They made and lost fortunes on ever bigger projects with always increasing risk,

searching for the home run that would satisfy them. Hank was content with singles and

doubles, and he rarely lost money for himself or his investors. People watched where he

developed and followed suit.

It was kind of a fluke that the two of them had ended up together. While still in college,

Ian had interned for a friend’s father who was in the development business. He liked

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what he found, and decided he could make some serious money. Once out of school, his

father had made some calls to old friends, and got him a couple job offers at some big

firms. Ian refused his father’s help, did some research of his own, and picked Hank

because he could be sure Hank wouldn’t be hiring him as a favor to anyone. It took

several weeks of dogged pitches before Meyers had agreed to take him on, although he’d

liked Ian’s nerve from the start. He hadn’t regretted his decision since then. As their

relationship grew, though, he sometimes thought that Ian never really got over trying to

be successful so he could earn his father’s respect. Ian didn’t really talk about his father

too much – if he talked about his family at all, it was more likely to be his brother or his

niece and nephew – but Hank always thought Ian felt insecure about how his father might

judge him.

Today they were sitting in the car in a strip mall parking lot, sipping coffee and watching

traffic. Ian had been telling Hank about his recent romantic interludes, as he often did.

Despite their age difference, they got along well. Hank listened to Ian’s youthful

indiscretions with some amusement. “Don’t you get tired of this two-at-once dating?” he

asked Ian.

Ian made a face. “This coffee tastes like shit,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”

“You’re used to that brown water from Starbucks. This is real coffee.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I’m not really dating both of them.”

“You’re not?” Hank put the car in gear. “Seen enough here?”

Ian nodded and Hank pulled out of the parking lot, turning on the street. He starting

cruising, watching the sidewalks and the cross streets for activity. “You were saying?”

he asked Ian after a few minutes.

“Like I was saying, I’ve been doing things with –“

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“No names,” Hank interrupted, not looking over. “There’s no point telling me their

names because they’ll just be different in a couple of weeks, so I just don’t want to get

attached to any of them.”

Ian flashed a smile. “This other girl is different. I mean, Ash – er, the first girl – I like

her and have been having fun with her, but I’ve been seeing her for a couple weeks and

haven’t slept with her.”

Hank turned down a side street, apparently at random. “Two weeks, boy, that’s a record.

She must not be your type.”

“Stop it. She’s plenty good looking. But, really, I haven’t even made a move on her.”

“Maybe she just wants to be friends.” Hank was kidding but keeping a straight face.

Ian frowned, trying to decide if Hank was being sincere or not, but more anxious to

continue his story than to read Hank’s expression. “I don’t know. Maybe. I get the

feeling she’d go along if I pushed things, but we just haven’t really.”

“Why not? It’s not like you to be so chaste.”

Ian shrugged. “I dunno. I had some good chances but never took advantage of them. I

think it’s because of this other woman.”

“Who you’ve been seeing at the same time,” Hank noted sardonically. He pulled into the

parking lot of a McDonald’s and put the car in park. From there they had a good view of

the intersection. “Looks busy.”

“The 7-11 is getting a lot of pull-ups,” Ian pointed out.

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“People are walking to that bank,” Hank said. “Where are they walking from?”

They watched the people for a while, making observations. There were some houses that

had been renovated. “Students?” Ian asked.

“I don’t think so,” Hank said. He made some notes. When he got back to the office he’d

check the sale prices on the building, see if there were any signs that money was moving

in.

“I haven’t really even been out with the other woman very often,” Ian said, resuming the

earlier thread of conversation. “But, you know, we really hit it off.”

“Have you slept with her?”

Ian thought for a moment before he replied. “It’s funny. She seems like she would be

real conservative, but it was her idea to sleep together right from the start. She shows up

at my house late at night and stays over.”

“And?”

“And, I’m like – taken.” Ian sounded surprised at his own choice of words. It sat there in

the air, both of them watching it metaphorically float away.

Finally Hank broke the silence. “How’s that again?”

Ian smiled sheepishly.

“Well, well, well,” Hank chuckled. “The mighty have fallen.”

“I don’t –“

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“Admit it,” Hank prodded.

“When you met Kate, did you know right away?” Kate was Hank’s wife of thirty years.

Hank smiled fondly, touched by his memory. His tone grew softer. “Right away. I saw

her and that was it. It took a little longer to convince her, of course.” He thought for a

moment, then put the car back in gear and pulled back into traffic.

“I’m not saying she is the one,” Ian cautioned.

“Are you going to keep seeing both of them?”

Ian’s face grew uncharacteristically serious. “I think I have to tell – um, the first girl –

that nothing is going to happen.”

“You’re that interested in this other woman?”

Ian nodded slowly. “She intrigues me. No, that’s not the right word. It sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” Hank said with a small smile. Seeing a rake like Ian in

love for the first time, even if it was just infatuation, was a fond remembrance of his own

youth.

“I like the way she moves,” Ian said absently. He didn’t like the sound of that; it was too

incomplete. “She’s smart. She’s funny. And – “

“Yes?” Hank looked intrigued.

“I want to make her smile.”

Hank smiled himself. “She doesn’t smile?”

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Ian seemed momentarily at a loss, again struggling for the right words. “Not enough,” he

said at last.

Chapter 14

Ian had made plans to hook up with Elina in the afternoon. She’d told him that she had

some family obligations later in the evening, but picked him up outside his townhouse

around two. “Hey, beautiful,” he greeted her. He got in the car and kissed her lightly on

the cheek. “You look great.”

It was a warm day, and Elina was wearing shorts and a sleeveless blouse, with sandals

that showed off her pretty feet. She blushed just slightly. “Hello yourself. So, where are

we going?”

Ian gave her directions to an amusement park. This was a long time local park, not one

of the huge corporate cookie-cutter theme parks. Still, it offered lots to do. “I’ve never

been to an amusement park,” Elina told him.

“I can’t believe that.”

“It’s true.”

“Not even Disney World or anything.”

She looked at him with a dubious expression. “My dad is not a Disney World kind of

guy.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Ian agreed, remembering what he had seen of her father at the gala.

“Well, anyway, here we are. What do you want to do first?”

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They did pretty much everything. Elina loved the roller coasters, which were not huge

but thrilling all the same. Despite never having been on one before, she seemed to love

the ride. At first she seemed anxious, clutching his hand nervously as the car slowly

trudged up the tracks to its high point. The tracks seemed too old and creaky for this kind

of activity, and the car only had those old fashioned iron bars keeping them from falling

out instead of the more modern restraints. Once the car started its plunge, though, Elina

seemed energized, whooping with joy. She threw her head back and thrust her hands out.

“This is great,” she screamed. “I love it!” She continued to yelp throughout the falls,

twists, and turns, and gave him a big hug once they got off. She was slightly dizzy and

had to cling to him for a couple seconds before she got her bearings. “Let’s go again,”

she immediately pleaded. She dragged him back on the ride again.

“If you like this, you should see some of the new coasters,” Ian told her. “Upside down,

corkscrew, backwards – you name it.”

“Maybe you’ll take me someday,” she said with a sly smile.

“Maybe I will,” he said with a smirk. “An amusement park tour, if you will.”

The crowds were amiable, mostly families with small children running around having

fun. The lines were not too long, the sun not too hot, and the mood not too full of forced

gaiety.

They raced go-carts, with Ian having to resort to a few possibly underhanded tactics to

stay in front of Elina. She was quite aggressive but her inexperience hampered her on the

curves. She got back at him on the bumper cars, maneuvering him into a corner and

ramming him repeatedly. They kissed on the Ferris Wheel, waiting for the high point

when they were totally alone and had the world to themselves, if only for a moment.

“It’s all downhill from here,” he quipped.

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“Shut up and kiss me again,” she admonished him with mock sternness.

He beat her at miniature golf, capping off a seesaw game with an impressive putt through

a clown’s opening and closing mouth. She laughed with delight, then pretended to pout

about her narrow loss. As a peace offering, he bought her some cotton candy. “Never

had this before either, I suppose.”

“Never.” She tore off chunks and chewed them vigorously. “It was worth waiting for.”

“You’ve led a deprived life,” he told her with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m here to show

you all of the things you’ve missed out on.”

“All of them?”

He leered at her. “All of them,” he said firmly.

When they had exhausted themselves, or at least the things the amusement park had to

offer, they went back to his place. She’d brought a change of clothes, so she came in

with him. They were both a little hot and sweaty, and a shower seemed advisable. One

thing led to another, and they ended up in the shower together. They lathered each other

very carefully, scrubbing away softly at invisible patches of dirt, and made love standing

up. It was kind of awkward but enjoyable. Once they got out they toweled off as

thoroughly as they’d washed each other, which led them straight to the bed for a more

horizontal and, if possible, even more satisfying round of lovemaking.

“You’re going to make me late,” Elina teased him. She lay draped over him on the bed,

both of them still naked yet totally unembarrassed.

“I hope you are referring to your party,” Ian teased her. “We were practicing safe sex,

after all.”

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Elina hit him with a pillow at him but smiled.

“So skip it, whatever it is.” Ian caressed her back lightly, loving the feel of its curves and

the underlying muscles.

“I can’t,” she said regretfully. “It’s my father. He’s having a dinner party and I’m the

hostess.”

Ian stopped stroking her. “Oh.” Somehow her father’s image loomed over things, and

laying in bed nude no longer seemed as comfortable. She reached out and took hold of

his hand. “It’s OK. We’ll do this again, sometime soon.”

He pretended to think about it for a long moment. “That would be all right,” he allowed.

She hit him with the pillow again.

They got dressed – she had brought a simple but stunning summer dress -- and she even

agreed to go with him for a drink. He was meeting some friends at Darci’s, but had a

little time before they arrived. She went with him there. Frank, the bartender, noticed

her right away. “Hello, Ms. Jazy.” He gave Ian an unfriendly look. “Ian.”

“Frank,” Ian acknowledged, wondering why his being with Elina caused Frank to turn on

the freeze.

“What can I get you two?” he said politely, if not quite warmly. He took their orders and

returned promptly with their drinks. He then retreated, keeping a surreptitious eye on

them.

They were only there a few minutes when a well dressed older man came up to them and

put his arm around Elina. “Elina, so delighted to see you here,” he said, kissing her

lightly on the cheek. He turned towards Ian. “And this is?”

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“This is my friend Ian,” Elina said carefully. “My special friend.”

“Ah. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Ian, this is Jack Holland. He owns this joint.”

Ian gave Holland a more thorough look. He was in his forties, with short peroxided

blonde hair spiked up in a manner that was somewhat too young for him. He wore slacks

and, under an Armani jacket, a thin black sweater that probably cost more than Ian’s

watch. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Holland. I love your place.”

“Thank you.” Holland stood off a bit from them, watching them politely but obviously

feeling like he was losing time from his normal rounds, whatever those were. “We don’t

see you so much, Elina.”

“Well, I’ve been busy.”

Holland eyed Ian. “Yes, I see. Well, I have to get going.” He called the bartender over.

“Frank. Their money is no good here tonight.”

Ian started to protest, but Holland silenced him. “Mr. Holland, if you ever are looking for

locations for another club, give me a call,” Ian said instead, handing him a business card.

“I’ve got some ideas that you might find interesting.”

Holland took the card solemnly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He kissed Elina lightly, shook

hands with Ian, and moved off.

Ian watched his departing figure. “So how do you know him?”

“Friend of my father.” Elina seemed uncomfortable about the connection.

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Ian nodded and took a sip of his scotch. “That’s right, you mentioned something about

that the first time I met you. Your father knows a lot of people.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Elina said glumly.

She stayed to finish her drink, and he walked her out to her car. “I’ll miss you,” he said,

meaning it. “I could stop by your place later, if you wanted.”

She looked at him thoughtfully.

“If I knew where you lived, which I don’t, of course. About that…”

“Yes?”

“You could tell me, or at least give me a phone number...”

Now Elina had that faintly sorrowful expression on her face. “It’s better if I don’t.”

Ian wondered, better for whom, but left it unsaid. Instead, he found himself pleading

with her. “OK, then, you could come by later tonight. Last night worked out pretty

well.”

“I can’t,” she said, sounding genuinely sorry. “Father will expect me to stay over and

have brunch with him.” She put a hand on his arm.

“I’ll keep trying.”

She flashed him a bright smile that warmed his heart. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.

They kissed and she drove off. He stayed in the parking lot until he could no longer see

her taillights.

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Chapter 15

His friends arrived after a time, and they all had a good time hanging out. Tommy was

there, and he told the group the story about Ian’s encounter with Dani to their great

amusement. They chided him for passing up on such an easy score, especially as Tommy

added more details about how Dani looked and some of what she had said to Ian. Ian

took the kidding in stride, but then started to get some grief about several other times

he’d passed up on doing things, times when he was doing something with Ashley. They

figured he was sleeping with someone else and demanded details, which in fact he didn’t

have about Ashley. They took his silence as more withholding, and teased him more

mercifully until they got tired of it. He was glad they didn’t know about Elina, because

they would press for specifics about her body, their sex life, or any of the other assorted

sordid details he had freely shared about past girlfriends. He wasn’t going to do that

about Elina.

Roger Lewis started telling them about a flight attendant he’d met. “She’s from Iceland,”

he told them.

“What airline is that?” Tommy asked. “Air Iceland?”

“What am I, a fucking travel agent? All I know is that she is hot.”

“They say that once you’ve had an Icelander, you never go back,” Ian said with a straight

face.

“Damn right,” Roger agreed, not aware that Ian was teasing.

“It’s like that strange singer from Iceland Ian likes,” Bill told them with a wink. “You

know, the one with the duck outfit.”

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“Her name is Bjork and it was a swan,” Ian told them with a formal tone of voice. “She’s

great.” Ian liked the twinkle in her eye and loved her voice, plus her videos were very…

interesting.

The others groaned. They started picking on someone else.

He left the bar around midnight, claiming fatigue. The rest of his group was still having a

good time, and so he found himself in the parking lot pretty much by himself. That is,

except for the man leaning against his car. It was Walker, but of course Ian didn’t

recognize him from the night at the gala.

Walker roused himself from the car and moved a couple feet away. Ian noted that the

man was four or five inches taller, twenty or thirty pounds heavier, and none of it was fat.

Moreover, the man looked like he was belligerent about something.

“Something wrong, buddy?” Ian asked in a soft tone of voice. The guy was probably just

drunk, or had mistaken him for someone else. No point in provoking him needlessly.

Walker cut to the chase, giving Ian the evil eye. “Stop seeing the girl, or you’ll be sorry.”

Ian stopped. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else, friend.” He kept his tone

light but the hairs on his scalp rose.

Walker smiled grimly. “You’re Ian Russell, right? I’ve got the right guy all right, but

you’ve been fucking the wrong broad and now you’re fucking with the wrong guy.”

Ian stole a quick glance around. The parking lot was moderately lit, and there were a few

people hanging around by the door, but no one was paying them any attention. He

figured he could always run towards the door and trust that the bouncers would notice, or

he could just yell for help. On the other hand, he hadn’t done anything wrong that he

knew of, he was tired, and the guy was standing between him and his car. Discretion had

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never been the better part of his valor. He’d been in worse situations than this before. He

knew all about tough guys. He was used to them; he knew how to deal with them. He

thought he was kind of a tough guy himself. He subtly shifted his weight to the balls of

his feet, preparing himself for quick moves, just in case. He held the man’s stare.

“Listen, mister, I don’t know you, but you’re making a mistake.”

“You’re the one making the mistake, friend,” Walker replied with deliberate emphasis on

the “friend” to let Ian know he didn’t mean it, just in case Ian hadn’t grasped that

particular fact. He rubbed his hands together almost gleefully. “And I’m the one who is

going to make you pay.”

Ian stared him down. “Listen: I don’t know you, I don’t know what girl you are talking

about, but that’s my car and I’m getting in it. You can step aside or I’ll move you aside.

Your choice.” He looked hard at Walker, who didn’t seem fazed. Too bad, Ian thought;

that tough guy attitude usually worked.

Walker moved towards him meaningfully, slowly edging his way towards him so he

could cover any sudden moves in case Ian bolted. He clearly expected him to. Instead,

Ian smiled. “You know,” Ian said in a conversational tone. The guy had made his choice

and it was just a question of how it was all going to happen. Now Ian wanted to provoke

a response. “I hate sloppy drunks. Especially fat ones like you.”

“Fat?” Walker growled in surprise. He stopped for a second, then resumed his slow

approach. “This ain’t fat and you’re about to find out.”

“Yeah, fat boys like you take some educating, because all that fat usually congregates in

their brains, making them kind of slow, if you know what I mean,” Ian taunted.

Walker paused for a second, and moved in suddenly. He feinted to his left, then swung

his right in a looping blow that should have hit Ian hard on the face. Except that Ian had

figured out the left was a fake and had moved inside the punch. The right hand passed

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harmlessly over his head. Walker’s eyes widened in surprise to find Ian not only still

standing but also now only inches from him.

“Ain’t that a bitch?” Ian asked sympathetically. “It gets worse.”

Before Walker could respond, Ian kneed him hard in his groin, then punched him hard in

the throat. Walker fell to the ground. Ian kicked him hard in the ribs, getting a satisfying

grunt in return.

“Well, now that’s got to hurt,” Ian noted, kicking him again. “Listen, buddy, if you’re

going to ambush people in parking lots you’re either going to have to get a lot better or

bring a lot of friends, because you’re lousy at it.”

“I’ll kill you,” Walker croaked in fury. He was having a hard time getting the words out

due to Ian’s punch to his larynx. “I’ll…”

Ian cut short whatever threat Walker was about to make with a solid kick to his stomach.

“You just don’t know when the fuck to shut up, do you friend?” He kicked him a few

more times to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “That wasn’t even much of a fight,

you stupid fuck. I’ve had better fights with girls, since you’re hung up about some

frigging girl.” He kicked Walker a couple more times just for good measure, then wiped

his hands and got in his car, gunning it past the still prone man.

Ian drove home thinking about who the guy was and why he knew his name. He could

only think of one reason why there might be some angry man accosting him in parking

lots. Ashley must be married.

Chapter 16

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About the same time Ian was punching on Walker, Ashley entered a bar called The Bitter

End. It was a seedy place, dark and rundown, with a smoky atmosphere that smelled of

stale alcohol. She recognized several faces from her other visits here. They must never

leave here, she thought grimly. She couldn’t imagine choosing to stay in a place like this.

All she wanted to do was do what she needed to do and get out of here. She spotted her

husband waiting anxiously at the bar. Her husband’s face was ashen, and he looked like

he wished he were anywhere else in the world.

“Why now, Robert?” Ashley asked him in quiet fury. “All of a sudden you call me and

tell me to come to this…place.”

He shrugged sheepishly. “They didn’t tell me why, Ash. Thy just told me to get you.”

She regarded him with disdain. It was increasingly difficult for her to recognize the man

she had married in this waffling coward. He still had his good looks and easy smile, and

she had no doubt there were other young women who would find him charming, but he

had proved to lack any semblance of backbone or good sense. “I didn’t recognize the

number you called from, Robert.” He looked surprised. “Caller ID, Robert – what, you

never heard of it? Was it a poker game or a new girlfriend this time?”

“She’s not my –“

“Oh, leave it alone, Robert. I don’t care anymore.” She looked towards the door to the

office. A tough looking young man sat outside on a stool, appearing bored. “Let’s get

this over with so I can go back home.”

“You call that place home now?” Robert asked. “What about our house?”

She gave him a frosty stare. “I’ll never go back there again, not after this, Robert. I just

want to get all of this, whatever it is, over with so I can start living a normal life again.”

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Robert took a long last drink and stood up, sighing. They walked over to the door. The

young man observed their approach, giving Ashley an approving look up and down her

body. He leered at her. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Ashley tried to hide her revulsion. “Can we go in?”

The man appeared to give it some thought. “I don’t know,” he said, playing his usual

role. “You might be carrying some dangerous weapon.”

“Get it over with,” Ashley said in quiet fury. After her previous visits, she was resigned

to his harassment. She glanced over at Robert, who looked embarrassed but offered no

resistance. The man had hit Robert the first time she had been there, and after that he had

offered no objections to what the man did to her.

“OK, spread ‘em.” He proceeded to do a very thorough pat down, focusing his efforts

very slowly and deliberately around her breasts and between her legs. She was mortified

but had learned to just get it over with. He finally finished, then smirked. He opened the

door to the inner office. “Be my guest.” He gestured them in.

The office was as seedy as the bar, with a few exceptions. A dark man sat behind the

desk, which was covered with numerous papers and folders, and – incongruously – an

ultramodern laptop. Behind him, on a credenza, sat another PC, this one a desktop that

sat blinking away. One wall had two big screen TVs set on ESPN and FoxSports, and at

least three smaller television sets scattered around the rest of the room. One had to

wonder how many remotes were needed to manage all the electronics. The man didn’t

look like an electronic wizard of any sort. He had a cigar in the corner of his mouth. His

tie was undone and his shirt looked like he’d been wearing it for days. Across the room,

sitting on a worn-out couch, was another man. He looked like Mr. Clean gone bad – the

same shaved head and large frame, but with a deliberate air of menace. The jagged scars

on his face helped. Ashley and Robert stood uncertainly just inside the doorway.

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“Come in and shut the damn door,” Sokov snapped at them. He leaned back in his chair.

He looked at them coldly. “Sit here,” he told them, pointing to the uncomfortable

wooden chairs in front of his desk.

They sat tentatively. Robert kept looking nervously back at the other man, who amused

himself by watching him with a hard stare. He could tell it made Robert very nervous,

and he enjoyed that. Sokov got up and came around the desk, perching on the edge of the

desk in front of him. The other man stood up and came over to stand right behind Robert.

Robert started sweating nervously, turning his face slightly to watch the man out of the

corner of his eye.

“Well, Mrs. Wilde, how do you think things are going?”

Ashley twisted her mouth. “Well, all in all, I think it is going OK. I think he likes me

well enough.”

Sokov nodded thoughtfully. “Likes you well enough. Huh.” Without warning he

reached out and slapped her hard across the face. The other man ominously put his hands

on Robert’s shoulders, reminding him not to move in case he had any thoughts of doing

so. Ashley automatically put her hands to her reddening face in surprise.

“Then why the fuck do you think your new boyfriend is fucking someone else?” he

bellowed.

“What?” Ashley said in his surprise.

“Oh, yeah -- your boyfriend Mr. Russell has another girlfriend, someone he must like

better, because he is sleeping with her. So tell me – is he sleeping with you?”

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“No-o-o,” Ashley sputtered, at a loss for words. Part of her also wondered who this other

woman was, how they knew Ian was sleeping with her – and what the other woman had

that attracted him more than her. “Maybe he was sleeping with her before I met him.”

Sokov slapped her again. “Stop making excuses. I don’t care when he met her. I don’t

care if they were fucking like rabbits the second you met him. You were supposed to

keep him interested, whatever it took.”

Ashley held her hand to her face. “Was he?”

Sokov looked at her in surprise. “Was he what?”

“Sleeping with her already?”

Sokov looked disgusted. “How the hell do I know? I don’t give a shit, and neither

should you. The only question you should be worried about is what you are going to do

to get his attention more fully.”

Her face fell. “I thought you said I wouldn’t have to have sex with him.” There were

tears in her eyes, and not just from the slaps.

“That was before you let him get interested in this other broad. Our deal was that your

husband is safe as long as you were keeping your end of the bargain, which you aren’t.”

Sokov looked over at Mr. Clean’s twin. “Kill him.”

With that, the man suddenly looped his muscular forearm around Robert’s neck,

immediately shutting off the air to his lungs. Robert started gasping and tried pitifully to

pry the man’s arm away from his neck.

Ashley looked on in horror. She started to rise to try to help him but Sokov knocked her

back in her seat. “Stop it,” she cried out. “You’re killing him!”

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“That’s the general idea,” Sokov said with satisfaction. “That is, unless…”

Ashley looked at him with suspicious hope. “Unless what?” she asked urgently.

“Unless you do whatever you have to do to get Russell to have sex with you, in the

apartment, as often and as many times as you can.”

Ashley’s face fell. She looked over at Robert, whose own face was contorted and turning

purple. She’d gone from love to indifference and now something close to outright hate,

but she couldn’t just sit by and let him die like this. “All right,” she muttered feebly, her

face down.

“What was that?” Sokov asked. “I’m not sure I heard you.”

“I’ll sleep with him, if that’s what it takes.” Ashley’s voice was low and defeated.

“I don’t know,” Sokov said pensively. “I’m not sure you can do it. I mean, you haven’t

managed yet, and he is already sticking it to this other broad.”

Ashley looked up fiercely at him. “I’ll do it. He’s attracted to me, I know it. Now leave

Robert alone!”

Sokov nodded at the other man, who suddenly released Robert. Robert fell to the ground

gasping for breath. Sokov folded his arms over his chest and looked at Ashley

discerningly. “You know, maybe you’re just out of practice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how long has it been since old Bob here has managed to get it up with you? I

think maybe you’re just rusty and having a hard time getting back into sex.”

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“Shut up,” Ashley hissed. “I’ll do just fine.”

“I don’t know.” Sokov looked like he was enjoying her discomfort. “Maybe we should

give you a test run, you know, right there on the couch. Or maybe here on the desk.” He

patted the top of his desk approvingly.

Ashley looked at him in fury. “That was not part of the deal.”

“Maybe I’m changing the deal.”

Ashley stared at him, not sure whether to believe him or not. He held her gaze for a few

agonizing seconds, then finally broke off laughing. “Forget it,” he said, dismissing her

with a wave of his hand. “Your ass is too bony for me.”

Ashley helped Robert up. He was breathing raggedly, his eyes still wide from terror.

“May we go now?” she asked politely, refusing to even look at Sokov.

“Sure,” he told her. “Just keep your end of the deal.”

She walked Robert over to the door. “Just one more thing,” Sokov called out just as she

was reaching for the doorknob. She hesitated, and turned. She was surprised to see the

large man suddenly at Robert’s side.

“What?”

Sokov nodded his head once at the other man. He immediately grabbed Robert’s right

hand and bending two of his fingers back until they snapped with an audible pop. Robert

screamed in pain and Ashley gasped. She put her hand over her mouth in surprise.

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“That’s just a reminder, Mrs. Wilde,” Sokov said calmly but with an undeniable sense of

threat. “We mean business.”

Chapter 17

“Did I wake you?” Ashley’s voice cooed.

Ian rubbed his eyes and looked over at the clock. It was nine in the morning and, in fact,

she had woken him up with her call. “I guess so. Kind of early, isn’t it?”

“Are you still in bed?” Ashley sounded amused and, somehow, intentionally seductive.

“Maybe I should come over and join you.”

“Huh.” Ian sat up in bed and ran his hand through his hair. He felt as though he was

coming in late on the conversation, because he sure as hell didn’t understand Ashley’s

suddenly playfully aggressive attitude. “I have to get up anyway.”

“Why don’t you come over here? I feel terrible about falling asleep on you the other

night.”

“It’s all right.”

“I hope you’ll give me another chance. I’m wide awake now.”

“Ashley…” Ian paused. He wanted to ask her about the man in the alley last night, but

this didn’t seem like the right way to do it. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

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“Why don’t you come over and tell me now? I’d love to see you.”

Ashley did seem unusually eager to see him. Ian was both flattered and puzzled by that.

Maybe she really had had her heart set on something happening that night in her apart

and wanted to make up for the lost chance. He smiled. “I can’t. I’m going to the

football game.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “How about after that?”

“Well, I was going to go out with some of my friends and watch the rest of the games on

TV.”

“How about after that?”

They negotiated for a few minutes, and agreed he’d come over that evening. He had been

looking forward to a day watching football with his buddies and tried to convince her to

see him the next night, but she was insistent about seeing him as soon as she could. He

had little warning bells going off in his head, but there was no graceful way to say no to

her almost pleading efforts.

Roger Lewis had access to a luxury box. Ian joined Roger and some other friends around

eleven for some tailgating. It was a tradition that he found amusing, but some of his

friends had been doing it since they were kids. Their fathers had brought them as soon as

they were old enough, and they’d probably bring their own kids when they’d reached that

part of their life cycle. They were surrounded by lots of similar parties with similar

traditions. “Two acres of drunks,” Ian observed cynically to his friends, who grinned

proudly. “Damn straight,” one of them yelled.

Eventually they moved their party to the luxury box. Ian was very impressed. There was

a small buffet, a fully stocked bar, several big screen TVs with the game on, plus a nice

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view of the field, of course. “Now we’re talking,” Tommy Banks said appreciatively. “I

could get used to this.”

The game was close and the box was so raucous that one of the adjoining boxes called

security to quiet them down. Still, Ian was relatively subdued, at least for him. He

switched to soda even before they’d left the tailgating party, much to the jeering of his

friends. He tried to pass it off to too much drinking the night before, but the fact was that

he was bothered by the turn of events around Ashley.

After the game they went to one of their favorite sports bars to watch the second round of

games, including a couple close games that had the crowd in the bar roaring. The

conversations eventually turned to other topics, and Ian offered up his encounter of the

night before.

“So I leave Darci’s last night and there’s this guy leaning against my car.”

“Yeah?” Bill Riddick said, only half listening.

“Well, I tell him to get off and he does, but instead of walking away the guy starts giving

me attitude. I’m not looking for trouble, you know, but the guy just won’t give it up.”

“What’d you do?” Tommy asked, starting to get interested.

“The guy rushes me and takes a swing, so I decked him.”

“All right,” Roger said. “Fuck him up!” It was not clear if he was commenting on Ian’s

story or a hard hit on the television. Ian just rolled his eyes.

“The funny thing is, he knew my name.”

“No kidding?”

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“Who was he?”

“I don’t know,” Ian told them. “He said something about some woman, wanting me to

leave her alone.”

Tommy gave him a look of mock reproach. “Ah-ha – you been fucking someone’s

wife?”

Ian smiled that devilish smile of his. “Probably. Just not right now, so I don’t know who

he was talking about.”

“Come on,” one of his other friends teased. “Whose the wife?”

Ian eyed him with mock disdain. Since the comic was married Ian figured that he was

fair game for a retort. “It’s your wife, asshole.” His other friends responded to this boast

with appropriate glee. They then turned the conversation to other topics; other lies and

other stories.

Later, when the Sunday night game started he decided to leave. “Hot date, Ian?” his

friends teased.

“You never know,” he said mysteriously.

On the drive over he tried to decide how to play his curiosity about his mugger from the

night before. He wasn’t sure if he should confront her immediately or wait for a suitable

opportunity. As it turned out, Ashley took the initiative from him.

“Come on in,” she said, pulling him in at the door and holding onto his hands. She was

wearing a robe that was so thin that it was clear to Ian that she was not wearing a bra

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underneath it. He thought it was possible that she didn’t have anything at all on

underneath the robe.

“Did I get you out of the shower?” he asked, indicating her robe. Her hair was dry and he

kind of already had the feeling that this wasn’t a post-shower kind of robe. This looked

like something Victoria’s Secret would sell.

She smiled at him, then leaned in and kissed him. She kissed him long and she kissed

him hard, using her tongue vigorously. He responded almost automatically. She moved

in closer, and her hands reached up to cup his face and pull it even closer. His hands

moved of their own volition to her back and butt, and she moved closer to him, so that

her breasts were pressed firmly against his chest.

They finally broke off the kiss and stepped apart, both of them slightly breathless.

“Well, and how was your day?” Ian asked. He was trying for a light tone while he

digested her sudden aggressiveness. She stepped back a few feet and put her hand on the

sash of the robe.

“It was pretty slow until now,” she said softly. She undid the sash and let the robe slip

open. Ian could not keep from starting at her luscious breasts, smooth abdomen, and

skimpy thong.

“Ah, Ashley,” he said. “This is kind of sudden.”

She moved towards him and put a finger on his lips to silence him. “No, it’s long

overdue. I want to make up for lost time.” She pulled him into another deep kiss.

During the kiss Ian’s attention started to wander, as did his hands. One of them slipped

inside her robe and stroked her bare back, loving the softness of her skin. It wasn’t that

he wasn’t enjoying the kiss; far from it. It definitely wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to

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her. He was and always had been. He had imagined her like this almost from the start,

and it was as exciting as his most intent fantasy. The thing was, it was such a change.

He had kind of gotten used to their almost chaste relationship, with the attraction hinted

at but not acted upon. This was a different person, like she was in heat and wouldn’t be

satisfied until they’d gone all the way. Then there was Elina. It wasn’t like they were

exclusive or anything. They’d never talked about anything remotely like that, and Ian

wasn’t even sure that Elina would mind him being with Ashley. Whatever the reason, he

was growing uncomfortable.

She must have sensed something was wrong and stepped back. She slipped the robe off

her shoulders so that her breasts were fully exposed. She looked at him defiantly. “Take

me.”

“What?”

“Take me now. Ravage me. Come inside me.”

Ian looked at her with concern. “Ashley, don’t you think that this is kind of sudden?”

She came back over to him and turned around. She wrapped his arms around her, and

pressed herself against him. “Umm,” she moaned. “That feels so good.” She took one

of his hands and placed it on her left breast, cupping it around and letting his thumb rest

on her erect nipple. “Doesn’t it feel good?” she whispered.

“Ahh…”

She took his other hand and placed it flat against her stomach, pointing down at her

crotch. He was acutely aware of the pressure of her ass against his groin, and of his

erection. She started to push his hand down under her thong. “Come on, baby, anything

you want,” she said fiercely, leaning her head back onto his shoulder and rubbing against

his cheek as well. His hand was still cupping her breast, having fun. Ian forced his

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attention away from his erection. He thought she sounded more desperate than

passionate, and that something just felt off about the situation. He wasn’t one to look a

gift horse in the mouth, but the situation just was wrong somehow. It reminded him of

the time with Dani, which made it even creepier. He waited a second to see if he was

simply mistaken, then decisively stepped away and turned her around to face him.

“Ashley, what the hell is wrong?” He searched her face intently.

The look on her face was scary. She looked close to tears, practically desperate. “Ian,

please, have sex with me.” She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him towards the

bedroom. “Please!”

He stood immobile. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on.” He

looked at her, naked now except for the half-down thong. “This isn’t like you. If this

was going to happen it would have happened a couple nights ago.” As he spoke, he felt

more sure that he was right.

Tears started to appear on Ashley’s face. She tried to brush them away and ignore their

presence. “You have to have sex with me, you just have to.”

Ian shook his head. “Ashley, not like this. I’m attracted to you but I’m not going to take

advantage of you in this state, whatever it is. Have you been drinking?”

“A girl doesn’t have to be drunk to want to sleep with you, does she?”

“No, but she’d have to be drunk or on drugs to be so…I don’t know.” He thought again

of Dani and how she was even more forward. Maybe it is his pheromones, he thought to

himself.

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Now Ashley started crying unabashedly. She covered her face with put her hands to try

to hide it, to no avail. Ian watched helplessly, then made a decision to confront her as

planned. “Ashley, are you married?”

That came as such a surprise to Ashley that she stopped crying momentarily and looked

over at him in surprise. Had he not caught her in such an emotional state she might have

been able to deny it, but she was unable to disguise the shock on her face. “What?” she

asked incredulously.

Now Ian was sure that his guess was right. “You are, aren’t you? You’re married. What

is this, an affair?”

Ashley seemed to crumble. Ian barely caught her before she fell to the floor. He guided

her over to the couch and sat her down. She pulled her robe closed, and then sobbed

bitterly into her hands. Ian stroked her hair to try to calm her down. “Why don’t you tell

me about it?”

The story he got was not anything that he was expected. Her husband was a gambling

junkie. It was small stuff when she was dating him, even when they first got married.

Then it grew bigger. They took their vacations to Vegas or Atlantic City, or to island

resorts with more wide open casinos. He started betting more on sports. Still, she

thought it was harmless, just a release for him. That is, until about five weeks ago the

time he took her to The Bitter End and she first met Sokov.

“Robert owed him forty thousand dollars. I mean, forty thousand dollars! I couldn’t

believe it. They wanted their money and said they’d hurt Robert if we didn’t pay.”

“Well, didn’t you have any money you could pay with?”

“Much to my surprise, Robert had already drained our bank accounts, forged my name to

cash in my 401k, sold off the small amount of stocks my parents had given us, even

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remortgaged our house. We barely had enough money to pay our bills. These aren’t the

kind of people you can just declare bankruptcy and start over with. They hit Robert, and

I knew they meant it when they said they’d do far worse if I didn’t cooperate.”

Ian looked at her with a morbid fascination. “What does this have to do with having sex

with me?”

Ashley made a bitter face. “They told me they wanted me to make you like me.

Whatever it took.”

“Did they tell you to sleep with me?”

“Not in so many words, no – not until last night.”

That got Ian’s attention. He straightened up. “What happened last night?”

She laughed bitterly but could not meet his eyes. “They told me you were sleeping with

someone else, and I’d better get you to sleep with me.”

Ian didn’t like what he was hearing, especially that they knew he was sleeping with Elina.

“Or?”

“Or they’d kill Robert. They almost did it yesterday until I agreed to do what they

wanted.” She looked up at him. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

Ian was taken aback. “Well, yes. How did they know?”

“I don’t know. They know everything.” She started to cry again, and Ian noticed that the

tears had washed away the make-up that covered the bruises on her face.

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“Did they do that?” he asked, touching her face softly and seeing her flinch. She nodded,

embarrassed. He shook his head in disbelief and thought for a moment. “Why me?” he

asked at last.

Ashley looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t know.”

“They told you to seduce me, in particular?”

“Yes. They gave me your picture, where you lived, worked, your phone numbers. I

figured you owed money to Sokov too.”

Ian shook his head. “I don’t owe anyone money, and I don’t know this guy Sokov.”

The two of them were quiet for a couple minutes. Ashley had stopped crying and now

just seemed exhausted. Ian could not figure out why they had sent this woman after him.

He looked around the living room and was reminded of his first impressions of the place.

“So this isn’t your real apartment?”

Ashley shook her head sadly. “No, they told me to use this apartment. I couldn’t afford

someplace like this -- I’m a schoolteacher. I used to live in the suburbs. I used to think I

was happily married. Now I’m just a whore,” she said bitterly.

Ian gripped her hands tightly. “You’re not a whore. You’re someone in trouble and

doing the best she can.”

Suddenly Ashley looked up at him. “How did you know I was married?”

Ian had to pause for a second while he mentally changed gears. He told her about the

attack on him in the parking lot. Ashley listened, her confusion growing as he told the

story. “I figured he was your husband or someone your husband sent,” Ian concluded.

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“I don’t understand,” Ashley told him. “My husband wouldn’t dare try to scare you off,

even if he wanted to, which he wouldn’t. Neither would Sokov – he was the one who

wanted me to go after you. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Reluctantly, Ian had to agree with her. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Ashley wrinkled her brow. “What’s that?”

“Let’s go see this guy Sokov.”

Chapter 18

Ian got Ashley to wash her face and get dressed. She was subdued and followed his

directions without protest. She seemed to just be on automatic pilot, without will of her

own. It was as if she had just given up.

On the ride over he got her to describe the layout and the characters at The Bitter End.

“So it’s just the two guys inside the office? This Sokov and this bald guy, the enforcer?”

She nodded but did not otherwise respond.

“And the one guy outside?”

Ashley shuddered. Ian noticed. “What’s the deal with him?”

After some prodding, Ashley described how he would violate her under the pretense of

searching her each time, and the obvious pleasure the man took in doing so. Ian’s jaw

clenched in anger. “What did your husband do while this guy was doing all this?”

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Ashley looked over at him in surprise. “Why, nothing, of course. He’d never try to

resist,” she said bitterly.

Ian took his eyes from the road for a long couple of seconds. “Do you still love him?”

Ashley gave a long sigh and looked down, her brow furrowed in thought. “No,” she said

at long last. “No, not any more. Either I was wrong about the man I married or he’s not

the man I married anymore.”

“So why don’t you leave him? This is all his problem, not yours.”

Ashley shook her head helplessly. “They’d kill him.”

“I hate to be obtuse here, but at this point – so what? Look at what he has put you

through. You’ve got to watch out for yourself.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “When do you know when your loyalty runs out, when

it’s OK to cut your losses?”

“It’s time now,” Ian told her firmly.

They pulled up outside The Bitter End. Ian killed the car and turned to Ashley. “Listen,

once we get inside here’s what I want you to do. I need to get in that inner office, but I’m

going to tell you to go wait in the car. When I do, come out here and go back to the

apartment.”

“Why?”

“Pack up anything you need and get out of there.”

Ashley had a puzzled look on her face. “Where will I go?”

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“I don’t know. Go to a friend’s house. Don’t go to your husband’s house or your

parents’, and don’t use credit cards for a few days, just in case they can check them. Just

lie low for a few days.”

She gave him a questioning look. “What are you going to do?”

He smiled at her with his maximum charm. “I’m going to make some trouble.” His tone

sounded pleased; he liked being able to take some direct action. He handed her the car

keys. She took them, but looked at them dubiously. “How will you get back?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her. “Just leave the car in the parking lot of your

building, and put the keys in the rear tire well. I’ll get it later.”

They got out of the car, and Ian stood for a second thinking. He motioned to Ashley to

wait, and popped the trunk. He surveyed its contents carefully, and selected a tire iron.

He tucked it in under his jacket at the small of his back. It wouldn’t pass a close search,

but it wasn’t obvious from a casual inspection. He didn’t intend to submit to a search.

Ian checked out The Bitter End very carefully as they walked in, while appearing to be

entirely casual. No one paid them much attention. Ashley nodded towards the door and

her nemesis guarding it. Ian directed her over to him.

“Well,” the man said with satisfaction. “It’s my lucky day!” He seemed to notice Ian

only then. “Who is this? Your other husband? It don’t matter to me. ” He turned his

attention back to Ashley. “Ok, babe. You know the drill.” He started to stand up slowly,

with a smirk already on his face.

Ian hit him in the face. It knocked him down. Before the man could respond, Ian

grabbed him roughly and lifted him up against the wall. He banged him hard against the

wall once or twice, just to make sure he had his full attention. The man’s head bounced

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off the wall and he looked disoriented. Ashley stood there open-mouthed in

astonishment, but the other patrons studiously avoided them.

“Listen, punk, if you ever touch her again you’ll answer to me,” Ian told him. His face

was inches from his.

The man’s smirk was long gone, and surprise had turned to cowering. “I was just doing

my job,” he protested meekly.

Ian hit him with a short but vicious punch to his stomach. The man’s face went pale in a

grimace. “You have a new job, and that is to make sure this lady is not disturbed any

more,” Ian said. “If I hear that she is, I’m going to search your ass with that stool of

yours, and I won’t be so gentle next time. Do you understand?”

The man nodded vigorously. Ian bounced him against the wall again – not too hard, just

enough to reinforce his command of the situation – then released him. “Now scat.” The

man hurried away, with the other patrons studiously avoiding watching either of them.

Ian turned to Ashley. “Now go wait in the car.”

He watched her walk away, then opened the door to the inner office. Behind the desk sat

Sokov, who was talking on the phone. Across the room sat the bald giant, watching

Sokov with the patient devotion of a pet dog. There were several televisions replaying

the day’s games. Sokov gave him a dubious stare, and Ian walked over and broke the

telephone connection. Sokov looked at him in indignant surprise. “Who the hell are

you?”

Ian stood still for a moment, then smiled. “You don’t know? Take a good look.”

“I don’t have time for stupid games. Either tell me what you want or get the hell out

before I have Andre throw you out.”

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Ian nodded thoughtfully. “You sure you don’t recognize me?” he asked softly. Then his

face hardened. Whatever this was all about, Sokov hadn’t picked him himself. “I’m Ian

Russell.”

It took Sokov a few seconds to place the name. His face imperceptibly changed as he

recognized the name, and he leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. “So, Mr. Russell. I

can see Ms. Wilde has been telling stories out of school. I must speak to her about that.”

Ian swept a pile of the papers off Sokov’s desk. Sokov flinched in surprise but otherwise

did not react. “She’s out of it, Sokov. Whatever your little game is, it’s over.”

Sokov touched the fingertips of his hands together. “It is not so easy, Mr. Russell. Her

husband owes me money. A lot of money.”

Ian swept another pile of papers off Sokov’s desk. He was getting angrier. “What the

hell does that have to do with me?”

Sokov just shrugged. Now Ian was thoroughly mad. He pushed Sokov’s laptop from the

desk, giving it a good kick once it had landed, just for good measure. That got Sokov’s

attention. He leaned forward and motioned to Andre. “You are trying my patience, Mr.

Russell. I must ask you to leave immediately.”

“I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.”

“You’ll leave when Mr. Sokov tells you to leave,” Andre’s voice rumbled from behind

him. He was now standing up, and was an imposing sight. Ian faced him defiantly.

“Like you’re going to make me leave, you bald freak?”

The man’s face darkened. “You’re playing in the big league now,” he said ominously.

He took a step towards Ian. “And you’re playing without a helmet.”

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“Yeah, well it’s a good thing I have a bat then,” Ian said as he reached under his jacket.

In one smooth motion he took the tire iron out and swung it overhand towards Andre.

Andre was already moving towards him, and by the time he realized what Ian was doing

he could not duck in time. The tire iron landed hard on his head, stunning him. Ian took

the opportunity to land several other quick blows, pounding him into submission. He

heard a noise behind him and whirled just in time to see Sokov reaching in a desk drawer.

Ian moved in, swinging the tire iron just in time to smash Sokov’s wrist. He moved

around to Sokov’s side of the desk and kicked the drawer, trapping Sokov’s hand. Sokov

howled with pain, at the blow or the drawer or both. Ian figured he’d broken the wrist.

“Now let’s just see what was so important in your drawer here,” Ian said. He carefully

pulled back the drawer and saw Sokov’s hand still wrapped around the grip of a sawed-

off shotgun. “Well, well, well.”

Sokov glared at him. “You’re in over your head.”

Ian took the shotgun out and methodically ejected the shells. “Maybe. Right now I’d say

you and your furry friend there are the ones over their heads.” He sat on the edge of

Sokov’s desk. Sokov glared at him while cradling his hurt wrist.

“Tell me about Ashley’s involvement in all this.”

Sokov stared at him, then tilted his head slightly. “Her husband owes me money.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Sokov was silent, so Ian tapped the tire iron menacingly to prod him. Sokov shrugged.

“Someone offered to pay me my money if we got Ms. Wilde to get you to take an interest

in her.”

“To fuck me.”

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“Whatever it took.”

Ian gave him a tough look. “So who is this mystery benefactor?”

Sokov was silent. Ian hit the desk with the tire iron, but Sokov still did not say anything.

This time Ian rapped the tire iron across Sokov’s shins. The blow was light but still

elicited a surprised yelp from Sokov. “I could do this all day, buddy. I’m not sure your

bones can say the same thing.”

Sokov gave him a steady stare. “You can beat me, you can hurt me, you can even kill

me. It still wouldn’t be as bad as the things he would do if I told you his name.”

“So it is a he,” Ian responded. “See, that didn’t hurt, did it? We’re making progress.

What else can you tell me?”

“I’m not telling you anything else.”

Ian studied him carefully, trying to determine if he was likely to get anything further out

of him. He didn’t really enjoy torturing Sokov, much as he despised what he had tried to

make Ashley do. He decided he had learned all he was likely to learn, plus Andre was

starting to rouse. He’d had the element of surprise before, and didn’t relish a second

round with a more prepared Andre. “The girl is out of it, you understand? If you want

something from me, you come and ask me about it.” He stood up and started to leave.

“I’m going to get my money one way or another,” Sokov said. “I don’t care if I get it

from her, or from the freaking Pope. I don’t care if I get it from you, for that matter. But

I am going to get it.” Ian turned and found Sokov regarding him seriously.

“I thought it was her husband that owed you money.”

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Sokov shrugged, indicating that it made no difference to him. Ian thought for a moment.

“If you get paid off by her sleeping with me, why did you send someone to try to scare

me off?”

Sokov made a face that indicated his skepticism. “What are you talking about? Why

would I do that?”

Ian didn’t have any answers for him, plus Andre was sitting up and rubbing his head. “If

you hurt her, if you even threaten a hair on her head – I’ll be back, and you’ll be sorry,”

Ian promised. With that Ian quickly left, throwing a quick scowl at the young man

outside the door. He flinched when he saw Ian emerge from Sokov’s office and looked

away until Ian was gone. Ian went outside and started walking until he was able to hail a

cab, wondering all the while the same questions Sokov had so scornfully asked.

Chapter 19

Gaines walked into Jazy’s exercise room. Like everything else in the house, it was

spacious and well equipped with very expensive furnishings. It put even the most

expensive membership gyms to shame. Jazy was face down on a massage table, getting

worked over by his personal trainer/masseuse/whatever.

“Hey, Karen, how is it going?” Gaines asked her lightly.

She did not break her concentration, but smiled quickly in response. Walker, sitting

silently in the corner, noticed and felt annoyed. She never gave him the time of day,

despite his repeated attempts. He’d given up on her and ignored her sullenly.

Meanwhile, he thought that she practically melted whenever Gaines came in the room. In

fact, Karen didn’t like Walker. He put her off with his aggressive and rough manner.

She didn’t like his looks either. On the other hand, she thought Gaines was very cute,

with that devilish twinkle in his eye. She also thought he was dangerous; she was under

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no false impressions about what Jazy and the men around him were really like. But for

Gaines she’d have been willing to have some fun. Jazy was not too demanding an

employer – three or four exercise sessions a week, plus massages most of the other days.

It easily paid more than all of her other clients put together. If he liked to watch her

shower after a workout sometimes, well, she didn’t figure it was such a big deal. At least

he’d never put the moves on her.

“So guess what?” Gaines asked, directing his comments to Jazy. He ignored Walker.

Jazy just grunted, still focusing on his massage.

“I’ll take that as meaning I have your full attention,” Gaines said, winking at Karen. She

caught it out of the corner of her eye and blushed faintly. “Anyway, our boy Russell

busted up Sokov’s office last night.”

“Eh?” Jazy said, lifting his head slightly.

“Yep. Somehow he made his way to The Bitter End, got into Sokov’s office, then

knocked the crap out of Andre and broke Sokov’s wrist.”

“Damn,” Walker muttered inadvertently, impressed. Andre was not an easy customer.

“How did he find Sokov?” Jazy said. Although he was still facing down, it was clear that

Gaines had his attention. Karen noticed that his muscles were tense again, but she knew

better than to pay attention to the conversation. Big tipper or not, if she got on Jazy’s bad

side she knew he’d turn Walker or even Gaines himself after her without a second

thought.

“I assume it was Ms. Wilde.”

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Jazy was silent for a moment, thinking things through. “And what did Mr. Russell

want?” he said at last.

Gaines walked over to the mirror and adjusted his jacket slightly. He smiled at his

reflection, and at the fact that Karen was watching him without seeming to. “He told

Sokov that he knew that Sokov had had the girl go after him, and that it wasn’t going to

work.”

“See,” Walker interrupted. “Your stupid plan failed. I told you it wouldn’t. You and

your fucking subtle plans.”

Gaines turned and smiled tolerantly at Walker. Jazy lifted himself up on his elbows and

scowled at Gaines. “Perhaps Mr. Walker is right. Perhaps we should have been more

direct with Mr. Russell, just to avoid any…confusion.”

Gaines nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps. Perhaps we should send Herman here after him,

have him beat Russell up.”

Walker grew hot. “Goddamn it, my name is not Herman!”

“Oh, I forgot,” Gaines said, enjoying Walker’s discomfort. “You already tried that,

didn’t you?”

That got Jazy’s attention. He sat up and waved Karen away. She backed up a couple of

feet and noticed the tension in the room. She thought perhaps she should leave, but was

afraid to ask or to assume Jazy wanted her to leave. She might have been a piece of

furniture, another exercise machine, for all he noticed her right now. He looked intently

at Gaines. “What do you mean?”

Gaines gestured casually, as if this was a matter of little importance. “Oh, Harold

accosted Russell outside of Darci’s Saturday night.” He left it at that.

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Jazy turned his gaze at Walker. “You did?”

Walker glared at Gaines. “How the hell did you know that? Are you following me?”

Gaines was unflustered. “Listen, Harmon, I know everything about everything. I know

you got the shit kicked out of you. How are those ribs? Still sore from where Russell

kicked you after he decked you?”

“He caught me by surprise,” Walker mumbled.

“Yeah, you wait by his car, then go after him in a dark parking lot, and he still catches

you by surprise? I don’t think you even landed a punch, did you? Big tough guy like

you…”

Jazy looked at Walker. “Is this true?” Walker looked as though he wished he could be

anywhere else in the world. He put his head down, and nodded sheepishly. Jazy gave

Gaines an exasperated look. “I see. So our problem is still worse.”

“He still doesn’t know what is going on. Sonny Liston here at least didn’t tell him Elina

was the issue. And Sokov just told him that someone offered money to get Wilde to go

after him.”

“He didn’t give us up?”

“Sokov knows better.”

Jazy nodded and was quiet, thinking through things. Walker saw a chance to redeem

himself at least slightly. “Russell was on a date with Elina at Darci’s. He was with her

most of the day. Gaines’ woman isn’t working; Russell is still interested in Elina.”

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Jazy appeared troubled by this. “Elina spoke of him yesterday at brunch. She is quite

taken by him. She wants me to meet him.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I would think about it. But it would appear that Mr. Walker is correct, that he

is not interested in Ms. Wilde and that Elina is still interested in him. She has, after all,

somehow managed to spend more time with him than we had thought. She has even

apparently spent the night with him, a fact we were unaware of. The people watching her

apartment need to be spoken to quite severely. I am not happy about any of this. We

must take steps to address the situation, especially since your diversion has failed

entirely.”

Gaines walked over to the window. “I’m not sure things are as bad as you think.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

Jazy’s face turned quizzical. He trusted Gaines’ judgment in most things. “And why

not?”

“Well,” Gaines said, turning back around. “He went into Sokov’s place with just a tire

iron in order to try to get Sokov off her back. I bet Hector here wouldn’t do that even

about someone he was involved with, but that’s just him. Russell cares about Wilde.”

Jazy nodded. “You have a point.”

The three of them – four, counting the immobile Karen as well – were all silent for a few

moments. “What do you want to do next?” Gaines said.

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Jazy sighed and laid back on the table. He motioned to Karen to resume her massage. “I

think I will tell Elina that I do want to meet her Mr. Russell.”

Chapter 20

“So you have had an interesting couple of days,” Elina said lazily the next evening. They

were laying in bed. She had knocked on his door around eleven, and he had let her in

with pleasure. They’d almost made it to the bedroom before falling all over each other,

and left a trail of clothes on the rest of the way to the bed. Now they were enjoying some

post-coital intimacy, and Elina had noticed that something was bothering him. As much

as he was enjoying Elina’s company, he could not stop thinking about Ashley’s plight

and the trail of violence he had started recently. It was not entirely surprising that Elina

had picked up on his distraction. So he’d told her the story, starting with his encounter in

the parking lot, to Ashley’s somewhat clumsy effort at seduction, and ending with his

confrontation with Sokov. Elina rolled over on her side and propped herself up with her

elbow. “So who is this girl?”

That led Ian to recounting how he had met her, their developing friendship, and the

suddenness with which she had become more sexually aggressive. “I’d say she’s been

pretty aggressive the whole time,” Elina commented with a neutral tone of voice.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ian admitted. “But it was always sort of innocent. I never put any

moves on her, and until Sunday she didn’t seem to want me to.”

“Why is that? She not good looking?”

Ian smiled at her. “Jealous, eh? Yeah, she’s pretty good looking, with a smoking body.”

Elina covered her own body up in mock indignation. Ian reached over and took the

sheets back off. “You have nothing to worry about, Elina. I’m here with you and I

would choose to be every time.”

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She smiled at him, first with that small wry smile he was used to, then with a broader

smile of happiness that she tried in vain to hide. “You aren’t interested in her?”

“She’s married.”

“Even so…”

“I’m interested in you,” he told her firmly. She cuddled back next to him again. “How

was your weekend?”

“My father kept me very busy,” she said distantly. Then, almost idly, she added. “He

wants to meet you.”

“Excuse me?”

She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “I told him about you, that there is this

cute guy I liked. He said he wanted to meet you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He was serious. He likes to check out people in my life.”

“Should I be worried?”

Elina pretended to study him carefully. “Very worried.”

“I’ve met him before, you know.”

“You have?”

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“Well, I’ve seen him. At that gala where we danced. Not the friendliest guy in the

world. Maybe I should be worried.”

Elina sat up. “He can be tough, I suppose, but I think his bark is worse than his bite.”

“So when am I going to meet him?”

“He said he’ll call you and arrange something. But, tell me, what are you going to do

about this girl? Those sound like nasty people she’s gotten mixed up with.”

Ian sat up as well. He rubbed his head. “I don’t know. It’s been worrying me. I told her

to lie low for a few days while I figure something out. I still can’t figure out how I’m

involved in this whole thing. I mean, why me?”

“It is odd. Do you have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of. I keep thinking of that Eddie Murphy movie, you know, where he is

this street beggar who gets his life switched with Dan Ackroyd’s.”

“Trading Places.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Those two old guys bet each other that they can flip these two guys’

lives, just for fun. Maybe there’s two rich guys with some idiotic bet like that, and they

picked me out of the phone book or something.”

“Maybe.” Elina didn’t sound too convinced. Frankly, neither was Ian, but it beat most of

the other theories he could dream up. He just didn’t know the kind of people who would

try to force a woman to sleep with someone she didn’t know, even if she was unhappily

married. He didn’t really think he knew people who knew people like Sokov. He

resolved to talk to Hank and see what he thought.

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“I think we should take a trip together,” Elina said, appros of nothing.

“You do, do you?” Ian said. Trips together marked commitments of some sort. He’d

done it before with previous girlfriends, of course, but one always had to think about the

implications and subsequent expectations. “Exactly what did you have in mind?”

It turned out Elina was leaving for another business trip in a couple of days. She

suggested that they meet in Naples – Florida, not Italy, as it turned out -- on Friday night

and spend the weekend there. “I’ll get a nice room at a resort I know and we can just

relax, enjoy the sunshine.”

“It’s sunny here,” Ian teased.

She pushed him playfully. “It would just be different, being away. We could pretend we

were other people, people without any history or baggage. You could get your mind off

the problem with this girl and I could, oh, never mind.”

“What?” She had his attention now, not that she hadn’t before. “What do you need to

get your mind off of?”

Elina didn’t answer, not directly. She slid underneath him and starting kissing him

tenderly. “So, do you want to come with me?”

Ian had to smile. “In more ways than one.”

Her father called him later in the week, deliberately waiting until Elina had left town. Or,

rather, his assistant did. Ian was sitting in his office working on some background for a

deal they were working on when his phone rang. “Mr. Jazy was wondering if you would

have time to meet with him this afternoon,” the unfamiliar voice said.

Ian didn’t hesitate. “Sure. When and where?”

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“Mr. Jazy’s driver will pick you up at noon.” The assistant hung up before Ian could

protest, or ask why the driver was picking him up instead of him meeting them

somewhere. Still, he figured they’d have a get-to-know-you lunch, feel each other out. It

was a little too early for the “what are your intentions?” query, but he wanted to make a

good impression nonetheless. He made sure he was ready a few minutes early.

Sure enough, at noon sharp a long black limo pulled up in front of his building. He

walked over to the driver’s side. The driver’s window rolled down. “Are you Mr. Jazy’s

driver?” Ian asked, just in case some other limo had stopped by for the hell of it. The

driver nodded impassively. “Please get in back, sir,” he said.

Ian didn’t move. “Where are we going?”

The driver looked steadfastly ahead. “Please get in back, sir.”

Sighing, Ian opened the door. Somewhat to his surprise, there were two people already in

the limo: Jazy and his lead bodyguard Gaines, whom he well remembered from the gala.

“Oh, it’s you,” Ian said to Gaines. Since Gaines and Jazy were sitting in the back, Ian

took the seat across from them, his back against the driver’s partition. “Pleased to meet

you, Mr. Jazy.”

Jazy was dressed in a very expensive hand tailored suit. The creases were so sharp one

could almost cut oneself on it. His cufflinks and tie rod were solid gold and studded with

diamonds, as was his pinkie ring. Gaines sat next to him in a sports coat, a thin black

sweater underneath. He wore slacks and some expensive leather boots. Good shoes for

kicking, Ian thought distractedly; no flimsy Italian loafers for Gaines.

He had assumed he was to be driven to the meeting place, not that this was going to be

the meeting. Perhaps Jazy didn’t want to be seen in public with him. Or maybe he was

just a busy guy; Ian was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they were

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all going to his club or something. Ian extended his hand to Jazy as the car started off.

Jazy regarded him skeptically, ignoring Ian’s welcoming hand. Gaines seemed amused

by the situation. Ian put his hand in his lap and smiled to himself. Things were not

exactly getting off to a warm start. “Where are we going?”

Gaines and Jazy did not respond. They just continued to watch him. OK, Ian thought,

strike two. He decided to let Jazy make the next move. They drove in silence for a few

minutes in what Ian thought was an aimless pattern before Jazy spoke.

“So you’ve been seeing my daughter.” Jazy said it flatly, not asking for confirmation.

“Yes, we’ve spent some time together.”

“You like fucking her?” Jazy asked pointedly.

Ian was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you are having sex with her, are you not? I would expect that if she spends the

night at your house you are not just playing bridge.”

Ian looked over at Gaines, who was entirely nonchalant. He seemed to be enjoying Ian’s

discomfort. “Well, sir…” he began, no quite sure how to respond.

“Is she good in bed?” Jazy remained motionless. His voice was flat and controlled.

Only his eyes revealed his fury.

Now Ian was definitely uncomfortable. “I like your daughter very much, sir,” he said,

trying to be diplomatic. “I…”

“What is this ‘sir”?” Jazy broke in. “You pretend to show me respect while having your

way with my daughter? Where is the respect?”

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Ian felt like he was in some nineteenth century melodrama. “With all due respect, sir,

she’s a grown woman and she can make her own decisions about these things. I think

you need to give her a little space.”

Jazy turned to Gaines. “Now he is advising me on how to handle my daughter. What do

you think of that, Carl? Should I listen to him?”

“I don’t think Mr. Russell has much advice to give you about anything,” Gaines told him

solemnly. He winked at Ian, further confusing him.

Jazy turned his attention to Ian. “Mr. Russell, I would like you to leave Elina alone.”

Ian shifted his weight. “Excuse me?” he asked, incredulous at Jazy’s nerve.

“I think you heard me. I am not asking you. I am telling you.”

Ian rubbed his chin. He wasn’t sure what to say to such a request, but he was getting

angry about the whole thing. “I like your daughter very much, sir,” he said with a

deliberate tone of voice. “I think she likes me as well. She’s an adult. I’m an adult. So,

with due respect, I don’t much care what you think about it.” Ian tapped on the partition,

which then lowered slightly.

“Sir?” the driver asked, directing his question to Jazy.

“Let me off,” Ian told him.

The driver did not even slow up, but rather simply kept looking at Jazy for instructions.

Jazy gave Ian a hard stare, then nodded at the driver. The car pulled over to the curb.

Ian opened the door and looked over at Jazy. “You can go to hell, sir.”

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Jazy didn’t even blink.

Chapter 21

There was silence in the car after Ian’s departure. People rarely walked out on Jazy, and

certainly did not get more than one opportunity to do. The driver waited patiently while

Jazy seemed to swell with fury. Gaines watched him in amusement.

“I like this kid, I really do,” Gaines said with a laugh.

Jazy turned to him with undisguised fury. “You think this is humorous, Carl?”

“I think you have to admit the guy has balls. That stunt is something you’d have done

thirty years ago if someone told you to lay off seeing his daughter. Hell, you’d have

probably killed the guy, so be grateful he just walked out on you.”

Jazy made a pretense of a smile. “I trust he would have been unsuccessful in his attempt

had he tried, given your presence.” He stared out the window, where he could still make

out Ian’s departing figure striding away.

The driver interrupted them. “Sir, do you want me to follow the young man?”

Jazy looked up at him in surprise. “No, let’s go back to the house.” The car started off.

Jazy turned his attention to the floor, brooding over the encounter. He finally looked

over at Gaines. “This young man is trouble.”

Gaines shrugged.

“Ten years ago you would have dealt with him more severely, not let things go this far.”

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Gaines sighed. “Ten years ago Elina was still a virgin and we were worried about

drunken frat boys. Things are a little more complicated than that now.”

Jazy’s eyes narrowed. “She is still my responsibility.”

“But she isn’t a girl anymore. She’s a woman and she makes more of her own choices.”

“Not this choice, not with this impudent boy. He is trouble, and we need to deal with him

appropriately. As you have before.”

Gaines looked out the window. “You didn’t have as much to lose before. You’ve done a

good job of making your businesses more legitimate. You don’t want to risk all that

because some fresh kid doesn’t bow down before you.”

“I want you to deal with him!” Jazy yelled, his fury no longer only hinted at. “I want him

to leave Elina alone. Do what you need to do.”

Gaines nodded. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Later that day Gaines waited outside Ashley’s school. She had gone to ground, trying to

hide by not using the apartment or going to her home, but she carelessly had kept going

to work. He had put on a modest disguise – mousing his hair back, putting on blue

contact lens and a pair of glasses, and adding some padding around his midsection. He

wore a conservative business suit. It wouldn’t pass a close inspection, but if Ashley were

to try to describe him to Ian he wouldn’t be the first person who came to Ian’s mind. He

didn’t think Ian was likely to connect him to Ashley, but he was a prudent man and

believed in taking precautions. He was waiting for her to leave.

She finally came out and headed to her car. Gaines got out of his car and intercepted her

before she could reach the car. She looked up in surprise as she realized someone was

approaching her. “Ms. Wilde?” he asked in a mild voice. “Are you Ashley Wilde?”

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Ashley stopped and nodded uncertainly. “Who are you?”

Gaines came closer and put his hand out. “I’m Bob Walker. I’m a friend of Ian Russell.”

At the mention of Ian’s name Ashley relaxed visibly. Gaines noticed her reaction with

satisfaction. “I wonder if I could have a few words.” He motioned to her car.

Normally Ashley would not get into a car, even her own, with a stranger. However, he

was a friend of Ian’s and he obviously knew enough about her to know her name and

where she worked. Plus, he looked harmless enough, just another thirtyish suburban

businessman. After a moment of indecision, she nodded and unlocked her car. She got

in behind the wheel and Gaines took the passenger seat. He did his best to look nervous.

“You were saying, Mr. Walker?” Ashley prompted.

“Ah, yes,” Gaines said, pretending to gather his nerve. “As I said, I’m a friend of Ian’s.

He has told me about your, umm, situation with this man Sokov.”

Ashley shuddered slightly at the sound of Sokov’s name.

“I’m going to, ah, try to help you with this mess.” Gaines paused to let Ashley absorb

this information. Ashley struggled to process what he was telling her. She trusted Ian to

try to help her, and she wanted to believe that this was all part of some plan he had come

up with. But it was hard to accept that her ordeal was almost over.

“Well, I want to thank you for helping, Mr. Walker,” she said at last. “What do you need

from me?”

“Well,” Gaines said indecisively, leaning back in his seat and taking his eyes away from

her. He wanted to appear uncomfortable with what he had to say. “I guess before I put

in the money I wanted to see what I was getting for it.”

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Ashley brow wrinkled. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I follow you. Did Ian ask you to loan

me some money?”

Now it was Gaines’ turn to appear confused. He looked over at Ashley. “Loan you

money?”

“I mean, to pay off Sokov,” Ashley added uncertainly.

Gaines nodded in acknowledgement, but let his face appear hesitant. “Well, not quite.”

Gaines let that sit. Ashley’s face displayed a rapid array of emotions, her initial cautious

hope changing to doubt, bewilderment, and concern. “I don’t understand,” she told him,

searching his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Ian asked me for five thousand dollars,” Gaines told her. “I just wanted to see if you

were worth it. You definitely are a looker, honey. We’re going to have fun.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked more excited. “I get you for a week, and then I have to find someone else

who’ll pay another five thousand, until your debt to this man Sokov is paid off.”

Ashley’s face betrayed her growing concern. “Five thousand dollars? What do you

mean you would ‘get’ me?”

Now Gaines tried to look bashful, looking down at his lap. “You know, sex and stuff.”

Ashley was horrified. “You’d get to have sex with me for five thousand dollars?”

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Gaines nodded eagerly. “Well, yeah. For a week, all I want, whenever I want, however I

want it. It will be fun!”

Ashley was shaking her head incredulously. “You must be joking. That’s absurd.”

“Hey, lady, I’m helping you out here,” Gaines said, seeming slightly annoyed. “You’re

the one who owes all that money. Besides, it was Ian’s idea.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you better believe it. How else would I know about Sokov and the money you

owe? Why else would Ian have told me all this?”

In shock, Ashley put a hand to her mouth. Gaines leaned over. “How about a quick feel

just to test out the goods, honey?’ He tentatively put a hand on one of her breasts and

squeezed lightly. The situation was so surreal to her that she actually took a second or

two to react. She angrily pushed his hand away and slapped him. Gaines, staying in

character, let the slap land. He smiled at her. “Oh, yeah, a feisty one. We’re going to

have fun, hon.”

With that he got out of the car and walked away. Ashley broke into tears and sobbed

uncontrollably for several minutes. She felt embarrassed and violated. Those turned

quickly to anger towards Ian. She made up her mind. Wiping away the tears from her

face, she started the car and headed towards Ian’s house. Gaines, sitting in his car, smiled

in satisfaction and followed her at a discreet distance.

Chapter 22

Between her anger and her tears, Ashley only narrowly escaped several accidents driving

over to Ian’s house. She knew it was a long shot that he would be there, as he could be

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working late or doing something that evening that would preclude him being home until

late, if at all, but she didn’t want to call him and didn’t know where else to look. So she

pulled up to the street near his house and prepared to wait, unable to stop crying.

Gaines pulled in a block away and watched her. He knew he had taken a chance in

inciting Ashley. Her rage and emotional response could give Ian an excuse to sever all

ties with her. Her problems weren’t really Russell’s problem, after all. He thought it was

a good bet, though; unless he’d misjudged Ian, he didn’t think he’d walk away. Besides,

he enjoying pushing people’s buttons and seeing how they would react. If this didn’t

work, he’d try something else.

As luck would have it, Ashley did not have long to wait. She had only been sitting

outside his house for about forty-five minutes or so before he showed up, making a pit

stop at home before an evening out with some friends. As soon as he pulled into the

driveway, though, Ashley got out of her car and accosted him. “How could you?” she

screamed at him. Her face was awash in tears, her make-up smeared and her hair a mess.

“You bastard.”

He stood in stunned silence at the sight of her approach. He quickly regained his wits.

“Ashley? What’s wrong?”

Before he knew it, she was upon him, flailing away at him with ineffective blows. Ian

stood and took them in amazement, not knowing what to do or why she was doing this.

Tired of her attack, he wrapped her up in a big hug. He pulled her close, trapping her

arms next to his chest. She fought him briefly, then subsided into tears. “There, there,”

he murmured softly. He stroked her hair. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” he told her tenderly. He

looked around to see if they’d attracted the attention of his neighbors. “Let’s go inside

and you can tell me all about it.”

He escorted her inside his house. Gaines watched in satisfaction. He’d been right that

Russell wouldn’t just ignore her distress. Perhaps he’d break down and sleep with her as

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well, softened by her vulnerability. Stranger things had happened. All he cared about

was that he be distracted enough by her problems to not focus on Elina. He snapped a

few photos of Ian escorting her inside his house, then drove off.

Once inside, Ian sat Ashley down on the couch and got her a drink, which she gulped

down. “So tell me what happened,” Ian instructed her kindly.

“It was your friend Mr. Walker,” she told him in a subdued tone of voice.

“Who?” Ian tried to quickly mentally run through al the people he knew named Walker.

He came up blank.

“His name was Bob Walker, and he said he was a friend of yours.” Ashley looked at

him, puzzled. She had been sure he would at least know who he was talking about, if not

what.

Ian shook his head firmly. “I don’t know any Bob Walker.”

Ashley’s eyes widened in surprise. “But he knew you, and he knew about the money I

owe Sokov.”

Ian sat back in the couch. “You’re kidding.” He realized how inane that must sound to

Ashley; this was probably last on the list of topics she would feel like kidding about.

“What did he want?”

Ashley looked at her empty glass. Ian got up and refilled it, and she gulped this one

down as well. Her face was flushed, either from the alcohol or from what she had to tell

him. “He told me about your plan to rent me out.”

“What?” Ian was appalled.

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“He said he was going to pay you five thousand dollars for a week of sex with me, then

some other friend of yours would pay another five thousand for another week of sex, and

so on until you’d paid off Sokov.”

“Huh,” Ian said thoughtfully. He didn’t understand what was going on, but it was

starting to sound like it fit together somehow. “And you believed him?”

Ashley looked embarrassed. “I don’t know. I mean, no, I couldn’t believe you’d do

something like that, but he knew you and he knew the trouble I was in, so what was I

supposed to think? What was I supposed to do?”

Ian pursed his lips. “Tell me again about this man Walker.”

For the next hour or so they went over the incident again and again. She described what

he looked like, and repeated their conversation several times trying to get it word for

word. Ian went from being baffled to being angry.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked rhetorically. “Who was this guy?”

He reminded her about the man in Darci’s parking lot who had attacked him. They

speculated as to if the two men could be the same person, or if they were somehow in on

this together, whatever “this” might be. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the man in the

parking lot, but from her description they didn’t sound like the same guy. That meant

there were at least two people in on the plot. They went through again any possible

connection between the two of them, since someone was trying to connect them together

in this bizarre arrangement someone had made Sokov put together. Their efforts were

fruitless; they just couldn’t figure out what was going on.

Around nine they gave in to hunger and ordered some Chinese food. While they were

waiting Ashley excused herself and washed her face. She’d just about cried herself out,

and Ian didn’t want to risk starting her up again. When the food arrived they ate mostly

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in silence, unable to advance the discussion any further or to make any small talk.

Ashley fell asleep shortly thereafter, exhausted by what she had been through. Ian

watched her sleep, amazed at the world of trouble she’d found herself in and by his

inexplicable involvement in it. He wished he had met her normally, or that she had been

able to continue her previous married life under less stressful circumstances. But they

weren’t going to have those options. Sighing, he carried her up to the guest bedroom. He

took off her shoes and tucked her in.

Chapter 23

Ian flew out Friday afternoon to meet Elina. He talked his way into getting upgraded to

first class. His seatmate was a well-to-do businessman in an expensive suit and tie,

already hard at work on his laptop. Ian liked the looks of the first class flight attendant,

an attractive young blond with a pixie haircut. They chatted briefly when she took his

sports jacket and his drink order, and he thought she smiled extra warmly when she

brought his drink. He turned up his wattage a bit as well. As the rest of the passengers

boarded, he watched her as one overweight tourist, dressed on baggy shorts, loud t-shirt,

and flip-flops, struggled onboard with a carry-on bag that clearly wasn’t going to fit in

the overhead. He liked the skeptical but polite look she gave him behind his back. She

caught sight of him watching her and looked away in embarrassment – then looked back,

unable to suppress her smile. He winked at her, nodding his head at the passing tourist

and shrugged his shoulders just slightly. She rolled her eyes, then covered her laugh with

her hand.

“You’re making progress,” his seatmate noted, looking up from his computer.

“Oh, it’s just for fun.”

The two of them started talking. He introduced himself as Bill Roscoe, and gave Ian his

card. Ian was always good at getting people to talk about their jobs and their lives, and

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soon they were fast friends. Bill was an IT consultant on his way to a company retreat. It

was not too likely that he was going to ever be able to bring Ian any business, but one

never knew. Ian didn’t mind just adding him to his list of friends and acquaintances.

When they had landed and were getting read to deplane, the stewardess paused as she

handed him his jacket. “You know any good restaurants in town? I’m on layover here

tonight.”

Ian smiled at her and slipped in to the jacket. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Well,” she said, leaning in towards him so she wouldn’t be overheard. “I do. I fly in

here a lot. Maybe I could show you around.” She handed him a card with a phone

number on it. “Call me.”

Ian looked at the card. “Alas, I’m meeting someone. Another time, perhaps…”

She seemed crestfallen, but managed a brave smile as he exited.

Elina picked him up at the airport in Naples. She was wearing a simple red sundress,

with sandals on her feet and holding a pair of sunglasses. The sundress tied around her

neck, leaving her strong back bare and immediately causing Ian to speculate that simply

untying that bow at the back of her neck would cause the dress to come tumbling down.

Around her there were lots of people dressed in more expensive outfits, or made up much

more extensively – Elina had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and, as usual, appeared to

have no make-up on – but she easily outshone anyone in the airport. Ian saw her before

she caught sight of him, and he paused for a half-second to admire the view and to try to

still his suddenly racing heartbeat. When she saw him her face lit up, and it warmed his

heart to know he had that kind of effect on someone. After a long hug and heartfelt kiss,

they walked hand-in-hand to her car and she drove him to the small villa she’d rented. It

was a two story, three bedroom place on the Gulf, in an exclusive community of rental

properties and retirees.

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Ian was right about the sundress.

They made love in the master bedroom, happier than they had expected just to see each

other again. Later she took him to a small seafood restaurant that she knew, where they

had some fresh fish that Ian thought was the best he’d ever had. They retreated to their

villa to exhaust themselves in making love again and fell asleep wrapped in each other’s

arms.

The next morning was glorious, with sunny skies, warm temperatures, and gentle breezes.

Elina suggested they rent a sailboat, and reassured him that she knew her way around

boats. She proved to him that was true, expertly guiding them out into the Gulf. They

dropped the sail and laid down to sunbathe in the gently rocking boat. Elina wore a

white bikini – not a thong but showing plenty of skin nonetheless. He’d seen her in a

dress, in bra and panties, even naked, but the sight of her in that bikini still stirred him.

“Damn, you look good,” he told her with an undisguised leer.

She just smiled lazily at him and closed her eyes against the bright sun. He thought

happily at the prospect of the array of other clothing that he had yet to see her in and that

she could turn into immensely sexy outfits just by being her.

They lay in comfortable silence for over an hour before Ian brought up her father. They

had been making occasional small talk when they felt the need to but otherwise content to

just be. Not too many other boats came their way, but birds and the occasional sound of a

far-off motorboat periodically intruded.

“So I met your father this week.” Ian said with deliberate casualness. He wasn’t sure he

really wanted to mention his encounter with her father, but figured he might as well get it

over with.

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“Oh?” Elina didn’t turn or otherwise stir from her sunbathing. The sunglasses hid her

eyes, but if he could have seen them he’d have noticed the small grimace.

“Yeah. He picked me up in his limo, with his boy Gaines.”

“Gaines?” Her inflection was flat and seemingly without interest. She waited to see if he

would continue, but he waited her out. “And?”

“Oh, I think it is fair to say that it didn’t go too well. He basically told me he didn’t like

me sleeping with you and didn’t want me to see you anymore.”

That got her attention. She raised herself to one elbow, turning to one side and facing

him. She slipped the sunglasses down so he could see her eyes. “And yet here you are.”

“And yet here I am,” he confirmed with a smile.

He told her the whole story, and she smiled almost to herself when he told her that he’d

just stopped the car and got out when her father tried to lean on him too hard. “He’s not a

man many people like to disobey. Or, rather, risk disobeying.”

Ian shrugged, not losing his easy smile. “Oh, I know all about strong fathers.”

Elina smiled at him with that wry little smile of hers that he had come to love so much.

“That’s right, your father the Army general.”

Ian pretended to be appalled. “Army? Heaven forbid. He’s a Marine, and he’s only a

colonel. But yeah, he’s the toughest sonofagun you’d ever want to meet.”

“Do you ever hate him?” Elina asked, her voice soft with doubt.

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Now Ian really was surprised. “Hate him? Hell, no. I mean, he’s my father. We butted

heads my whole life, but, no, I never hated him.”

“Some people hate their fathers.” Elina laid back down and stared at the sun, or perhaps

she closed her eyes. He couldn’t tell.

“Well, there’s two things I learned from my father.” He left a pause to see if she’d want

him to continue.

“What are those?” she asked.

“One is that I have trouble with authority figures. OK, I admit it. My dad, my teachers –

you name it, and I’ll find a way to challenge them. I just don’t like people telling me

what I can or can’t do. Thus your father telling me to lay off – well, it isn’t too likely to

deter me.”

“Has nothing to do with me, eh? Just defying my father?”

“Well, it had something to do with you,” he admitted shyly.

“What about your brother?”

That took him by surprise. “What about my brother?”

“Does he have trouble with authority figures too? Or is he an authority figure that you

have trouble with?”

Ian had to stop before responding. His relationship with his brother was complex and

hard to explain. He laughed cynically. “No, Joe never had trouble with authority figures.

They like him. He’s kind of authority figure himself, I guess you’d say.”

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Elina tilted her head to look at him. “You sound envious.”

Ian let out a deep breath and looked out at the vast Gulf. The shore was a long way off

from here, and they seemed small and alone in the world. “Envious? Hmm, I don’t

suppose so. I like who I am just fine.” He shot her a quick smile. “After all, I’m the one

here with you.”

She nodded her head slightly in appreciation. “What’s the second thing?”

It took Ian a second to remember that he had been in the middle of telling her something.

“The second thing my dad taught me was that family comes first. You can fight all you

want within the family, but when someone messes with your family, there’s no question

about sides. You stand up for your family.”

Elina sat up suddenly and looked over at him. “So I should acquiesce when my father

tries to run my life? When he tries to run you off?”

Ian put out a cautioning hand. “No, no – at the end of the day you have to be yourself. I

guess the hard part of growing up is figuring out how to balance those. When you’re a

teenager you tend to focus more on asserting your independence, but I suppose as I get

older I kind of value that family thing more.”

Elina looked out at the water. “I guess I’m still trying to figure that balance out too.”

“I know one thing, though.”

Elina looked back at him, her face bright curiosity. “What’s that?”

Ian held her gaze for a long moment before he replied. “Some family you’re born with,

and other family you find later.”

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It took several more seconds before she finishing studying him, and her face gradually

softened with feeling. She broke into a wide smile. “I suppose so.”

With that she slipped over the edge of the boat and went underwater. A few moments

later she reappeared, and propped her arms over the edge of the boat. “Ian, how long can

you hold your breath?”

“I don’t know. A minute or two, I suppose.”

“Oh,” she replied with slight disappointment. She reached behind her back and did

something. The next thing he knew her bikini top came flying over the edge of the boat.

“Why do you ask?” he asked, raising one eyebrow inquiringly. Her bikini bottoms then

came flying over the edge as well and he figured out what she wanted. “Oh.”

He stood up, quickly pulled off his own trunks, and dove underwater. They met at the

surface, treading water face to face. The next thing he knew they were kissing. They

paused to take a long breath, and ducked underwater. They immediately joined together

and made love. He’d made love in a swimming pool before, late at night after a party

with a girl he barely knew, but this was different. The water was alive around them and

the sunlight made its way below the surface, making it an odd twilight world. It was

glorious creating an odd four legged, two headed creature joined together at the groin.

And it turned out they both could hold their breath for longer than a minute or two.

That night they made friends with a couple from Chicago at the bar while they waited for

their table. The couple joined them for dinner, and went with them to a club for some

drinking and dancing. Ian made some more friends while they were at the club. He was

so gregarious and made friends easily. He was like the Pied Piper, Elina decided with

amusement. He couldn’t help making friends, and once he had they’d follow him

anywhere. They ended up with a group of about ten new friends by the end of the

evening. They closed down a karaoke bar, which just led them to find a hotel bar with a

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piano. Ian convinced the bartender to serve after hours, and Ian played for another hour

or so while they sang or listened. The surviving two other couples joined them for a late

night, or early morning, breakfast at Denny’s, crowding into a booth and ordering big

plates of unhealthy food. Ian seemed as fresh as when the evening started, causing Elina

to marvel at his energy. He seemed to generate it, and to pass it along to whomever his

companions were. With him, she felt alive in a way she had never been before – not tired

and willing to try almost anything. If he ever got tired of real estate, she decided, he’d

always have an opening as a cult leader.

They slept late Sunday morning, had a light lunch, and went for a swim in the nearby

pool. In the afternoon they took a walk by some of the shops, window shopping and just

enjoying the time together. They joined the crowd of other shoppers, everyone ambling

along. Perhaps the heat deterred more rapid movement, or more likely these were people

who didn’t really have anyplace special to be, since they were either on vacation or

comfortably retired. There were mostly other couples, young and old, with a few

families added in the mix for variety. Ian himself felt in no hurry to be anywhere else,

and part of him wished that he and Elina could spend a long time here, relaxing, sailing,

and getting to know what they’d be like with each other for extended periods.

Elina told him that she had business in Atlanta before returning home, so it would be a

couple days before they’d see each other. “So what exactly do you do for your father?”

Ian asked as Elina studied the fabric on a summer dress that was on sale. It was yellow

and Ian told her she’d look good in it. She smiled and gave him a coy look. “I’m not

sure yellow is my color. I’m more of a winter colors girl.”

Ian flashed her a confident grin. “Well, baby, that was then. This is now, and it is spring

in your world.”

Elina smiled unabashedly and gave him a quick kiss. “I love the things you say. Tell me

something else,” she said with a mock commanding voice.

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Ian smiled his most deadly smile, the lady killer smile. “Elina, you are a cold drink on a

hot day. You’re a warm body on a cold night,” he began. Then he heard what he was

saying, and thought about to whom he was saying it. He stopped himself and let his

smile drop. He wasn’t trying to hustle her. He realized that he meant these things, and

more. He pulled her to a stop and faced her with a searching look. He continued, in a

more subdued but infinitely more believable tone. “You are my sun, my moon, my –

As Ian had initially stopped smiling, Elina had suddenly grown worried, afraid he was

going to give her bad news. Then as he started again the corny lines somehow didn’t

sound the least bit corny coming from him. Her smile first flickered tentatively, then

flashed in full glorious force. “Stop it,” she interrupted him with a laugh, touched beyond

words. “I can see why you are such a player.”

His expression was absolutely serious. “I’m not playing you. I mean it.”

She studied him, afraid to believe him but with every part of her wanting to. The desire

outweighed the fear. “You’re in big trouble, Ian Russell.”

He laughed. “I was in big trouble the first time I met you. If this is trouble, let it come.”

They resumed walking, hand in hand. The trajectory of their lives had just changed, and

their relationship had a new dynamic. There was a future to think of now, and that didn’t

scare either one of them. People they passed on the street could have been forgiven had

they mistaken them for newlyweds on their honeymoon.

It was several minutes before they resumed conversation. “So, you were saying, about

your job?” Ian asked.

“Oh. Well, basically I do whatever my father asks. Usually meeting people, looking

after various deals he’s got going.”

“Do you always travel a lot?”

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Elina shrugged. They left the store and continued their stroll down the street, not in any

hurry to be anywhere. “It comes and goes, sort of unpredictably. It depends on what my

dad has going.”

“Do you mind being away so much?”

Elina looked at him and had an impetuous look on her face. “I never minded until now. I

never had much reason to be home before.”

Ian felt a smile grow on his face as well. “Now you do?”

Elina nodded almost shyly.

Ian found himself nodding as well, almost embarrassed. He decided to change the line of

conversation. “So why your father? Why do you work for him?”

Elina made an exaggerated frown of uncertainty. “I don’t know. He overpays and

underworks me, I get to hobnob with big tycoons and travel first class everywhere I go.

Where else would I get to do that?”

Ian felt that her expression didn’t match her words, that her enthusiasm was curiously

thin. “But…” he prodded her.

“But,” she sighed. She looked away for a long moment. Ian dearly wondered what she

was thinking. She looked almost forlorn and he was almost sorry that he had brought it

up. She turned back to him and smiled bravely. “I don’t know. It’s just, sometimes,

when I’m meeting these people I think that they’re just dealing with me because I’m my

father’s daughter – not because I’m smart or good at what I do.”

“I’m sure you’re good at what you do,” Ian started.

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“I know,” Elina cut him off. “But I’ll never really be sure -- will I? -- not if I’m working

for him. Besides…”

Ian waited for her to finish. She looked down as they strolled, and her pace slowed

slightly. When it seemed clear that she was lost in thought and not likely to continue, he

prompted her. “Besides what?”

She looked up as though startled, then smiled and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “I

don’t know. I just get the feeling sometimes that there are parts of his business he

doesn’t tell me about, people he doesn’t let me deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, take Carl Gaines. He scares me. Why

would my father need someone like him around?”

“Are you worried about it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I see some of the people he deals with and, well, I don’t know

what kind of business he’s doing with them.”

Ian thought back to Gaines and the effortless sense of menace he carried with him, and

thought he knew what she meant. “Do you ever ask him about it?”

She looked at him with a hopeless look on her face. “How can you ask your father a

question like that? Dad, are you a crook? Are you doing business with crooks? It’s just

not something I can see myself saying.”

“So quit. Get some job working somewhere else. I’m sure you have lots of contacts.”

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“Easy for you to say,” she said, pushing him. She stopped and gave him a look that he

couldn’t quite describe. “He wouldn’t like it.”

Now it was Ian’s turn to shrug. “So?”

Elina continued to study him, and seemed to be thinking quickly. Gradually she seemed

to relax and a small smile appeared. “Maybe I will. Maybe I will. I’ll definitely think

about it.”

They stopped by a marina and, by unspoken agreement, sat down on a bench. The day

was bright and sunny. There was modest activity, with the marina gradually stirring.

The waves lapped quietly against the docks, and the breeze was soft and gentle. Elina

cozied herself against Ian, and he put an arm around her to draw her in closer. He felt a

strong sense of contentment, and a surge of protectiveness towards her.

“Great boats,” he said. “You’re rich, right? Do you have a big yacht like those?”

“I’m not rich. Well, I guess maybe my father is,” she said thoughtfully. “He does have a

company that owns a couple of yachts. He docks one at Key West and one in Palm

Springs, but I don’t think he ever uses them himself.”

“Uh-huh.” Ian had a hard time imagining owning such playthings and yet not playing

with them. It’d be like having a sports car and not driving it fast.

“What about you?”

“I don’t have any boats.”

“No, I mean, about your job. Why do you do it instead of something else? Do you love

it?”

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Ian laughed. “Nah, I don’t see myself working the rest of my life at it or anything. I

mean, I’m good at it, and I like it. And I like working for Hank; he’s a good guy, and

he’s taught me a lot.”

“But…”

Ian laughed again and squeezed her playfully. “But…you know, I’m too young. There’s

lots of things I want to try.” He paused, and pointed out at the yachts. “Besides, that’s

what I’m talking about. I see myself more as the international playboy type.”

She drew away from him in mock dismay. “Oh, just a gold digging playboy, eh? Are

you after me for my father’s money?”

Ian’s brow furrowed in surprise, and he looked at her dumbfounded. She held her

expression as long as she could, then burst out laughing. She poked him in the chest.

“Sensitive, are we? Maybe I should worry.”

“Elina…” Ian started to explain.

“I was just teasing you,” Elina told him. “Besides, my father would never let you take

any his money.”

Ian gripped her arms. “Listen, Elina, I don’t care about your father or his money. And if

I’m going to be a jetsetter, I’d want you with me.”

Elina was speechless, but filled the silence quite nicely. She leaned in and kissed him

hard, both of them oblivious to the gawks from the erstwhile deckhands and strolling

tourists.

Later, they went to the airport together, and sat in the bar while they waited for their

flights to be called. “It’s been nice spending time with you,” Elina said. She seemed

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unduly serious. The easy smile she’d had on her face all weekend was replaced by that

familiar pensive look that had struck him when he’d first met her. It was as though she

dreaded going back to her everyday life, as if she wished they could escape to a new life

without her job, without her father.

Ian tried to be lighthearted in his reply. “Some sun, some fun, some drinks and some

good loving. I could get used to this.”

Elina gave him a serious look. “It wouldn’t always be like this.”

Suddenly Ian didn’t think she was talking just about weekend trips. He thought carefully

before he responded. “Of course it would. We’re good together. I told you a long time

ago that I had a good feeling about things.”

Chapter 24

Gaines was eating breakfast in the pantry when Jazy came storming in. Gaines liked

sitting and eating here, within sight of the kitchen and a more compact space than the

dining room or enclosed porch where Jazy liked to have breakfast. Jazy tended towards

bigger and more dramatic spaces, whereas Gaines preferred more subtle ones. Plus, he

liked to watch the staff work – Jazy only hired attractive young women as domestics.

Right now Jazy had a beautiful African-American cook and a shy Vietnamese girl who

served the food. Gaines could sit there all day and watch them move, listen to their

banter, and unobtrusively let them get used to him. Eventually he’d befriend one -- or

both -- of them and add to their list of domestic duties, until he tired of them and

suggested to Jazy that he fire them. He thought Jazy knew what was going on but never

questioned why he had such trouble keeping staff. After all, there were no shortage of

candidates willing to work for the wages and conditions that Jazy offered.

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Gaines could tell Jazy was furious. He carefully put down his toast and folded his

napkin. “What is it?”

Jazy stood in front of him, his face red and blood vessels fairly popping out of his skin.

Gaines thought he was going to have a stroke one of these days, personal trainer or not.

“She spent the weekend with him!”

Gaines figured out immediately what Jazy meant but wanted to let him get it out more

gradually. “Who spent the weekend with who?”

Jazy slammed his hand on the table. “Elina! That damned Russell flew down to Florida

and screwed her all weekend!”

Gaines sat back. “Oh.”

Jazy’s eyes bulged. “That’s all you can say? ‘Oh’? I thought you were going to take

care of this.”

“I am.” Gaines watched the cook look over, unsettled by Jazy’s loud tone and

intimidating manner. Gaines winked at her and was please to see her raise her hand to

her face in embarrassment at being caught listening. A shy one, he decided. She turned

away and went back to work on the dishes. He watched her appreciatively. She had a

nice ass, he decided. He decided he’d take her under his wing next. He looked up at Jazy

with a sincere expression on his face. “What happened? I thought Elina was in Florida.”

“She was. He flew down Friday night and stayed with her. They were together the

whole time, happy as fucking lovebirds while you were here sitting on your dick.”

Gaines made a mocking face. “Now that’d be a good trick.”

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Jazy slammed his hand down again, then swept away Gaines’ dish. Gaines watched as

his toast popped over, floating momentarily above as the heavier eggs and bacon fell with

a shorter trajectory onto the floor. The plate crashed against the opposite wall. Gaines

noticed that both of the servants flinched but did not look away. The server got a mop

out of a closet and started cleaning up the mess, her face carefully neutral.

“I said I’ll take care of it, Marko,” Gaines told Jazy in a mild tone of voice.

Jazy was not mollified. His expression was grim. “When do you plan to get around to it?

This is taking too fucking long and Elina has become much too attached to this boy.”

Gaines stood up. “I agree. I’ve been too indirect with our Mr. Russell. I’ll deal with him

personally, today. In the meantime, maybe it would be good if Elina took an extended

trip. Perhaps overseas. Absence may not make the heart grow fonder, not to a guy like

Russell.”

Jazy regarded him with a suspicious expression. Gaines was quite useful, but he was the

only person Jazy could not cow with the force his personality. He wasn’t sure Gaines

was taking this situation with Elina seriously enough. He looked at Gaines for a few

moments through narrowed eyes. Gaines stood there looking innocent as a choirboy.

Finally Jazy let out a long breath. “Yes, perhaps Elina is needed to talk with some of our

friends in Europe. And you take care of Russell, before this goes any further.”

Ian, on the other hand, started his day in a more cheerful mood. He came bounding into

the office whistling and with an irrepressible smile on his face. On the way to his office

he smilingly picked up a bet on a weekend NASCAR race from one coworker, heard

about the weekend golf game of another, and asked after the antics of his assistant’s

young children. It was a good thing he came in early, when not so many people had

arrived; otherwise it could take a half an hour or more just to make it to his office.

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Hank heard him socializing and came out of his office. He was used to Ian’s cheerful

nature, but Ian seemed unusually chipper. He stopped by Ian’s door. “Sounds like

you’re in a good mood.”

“Always, boss, always. How’s it hanging?” Ian hung up his jacket and perched on the

edge of his desk. Hank leaned against the doorway.

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you very much. Anything in particular accounting for your good

mood?”

“Hank, I’m in love,” Ian told him seriously. Hank groaned and rubbed his head. Ian

came over and stood next to him. “No, I mean it. Come inside.” He ushered Hank into

his office. Hank sat down on the couch.

“Which one is this? The first one or the second one? Or is this a new one?”

“I can’t remember which was the first and which was the second.”

“The first one was the one you somehow hadn’t actually slept with, and the second one

was the one you wanted to make smile,” Hank reminded him helpfully.

“It’s the second one, and – believe me – she’s smiling now. We spent the weekend

together in Florida.” Ian sat down next to Hank and looked at him with a straight face.

“I’m telling you, I think she could be the one.”

“Uh-huh,” Hank responded in a noncommittal voice. He thought of Ian as somewhere

between a son and a friend, but had heard too much about Ian’s previous love life to take

this statements seriously. “And what about the other girl?”

Ian thought for a second. In truth, he hadn’t really thought about Ashley and her

problems all weekend. He knew she was in trouble and he knew he wanted to help her,

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but at the moment he couldn’t quite see how. Maybe he’d have to go visit Sokov again

and reason with him. Maybe he’d suggest to Ashley that she just move. It wasn’t like

they were likely to send a search party out for her, not if she left that worthless husband

of hers. He’d figure something out. He turned his attention back to Hank’s question.

“Oh, she’s still around. I’m helping her out with something.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I bet.”

“No, it’s not like that.” Ian sounded sincere and almost desperate to convince him.

“Oh, it’s not?”

“No, I really like – maybe love – this other woman and I’m not going to screw it up.”

“All this from one weekend in Florida? Good thing you weren’t in Hawaii. You’d have

come back married and with kids, maybe a mini-van.”

Ian frowned. “No, it’s not vacation fever. We just get along. She really means

something to me. I’ll tell you, when she gives me that look, smiles that smile, I don’t

know, it just really hits me.”

Hank nodded his head judiciously and barely restrained a smile. “Will miracles never

cease? Little Ian Russell finally growing up. You will tell me, won’t you, before you do

something crazy like marrying this woman?”

Ian’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. He thought for a second, the

concept swirling around in his head. Usually marriage provoked an immediately flight

reaction, but for the first time his alarms weren’t going off. He and Elina had never

discussed anything like that, but suddenly it wasn’t an alien concept. He leaned back in

the couch with the weight of his realization. “Although you never know…”

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Hank laughed and stood up. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts. We’ve got some work to do.

Come on – I’ve got some papers I want to go over with you.”

Late in the day Ian’s phone rang. “Working late?” the caller said in a cheerful tone of

voice.

Ian checked the clock. It was only five-thirty. True, he often arranged meetings with

clients for mid-afternoon and just went home after that, but it wasn’t like he didn’t put in

a good day’s work everyday. Well, almost everyday. “Hey, Joe, I’m just on my way out.

What’s up?”

It was his brother.

“Where are you off to? Taking a client to dinner or maybe closing a big deal?”

“Not tonight. I have a softball game.”

Joe teased him – not entirely without some measure of seriousness – about leaving work

early for such a trivial pursuit, and Joe skillfully counted with a verbal dart about how the

soccer or Little League games must start late where Joe lived that he didn’t have to ever

leave work early himself. The interplay was typical of their relationship; cordial but with

an underlying edge. Joe never gave up on wanting Ian to grow up quicker, and Ian

wasn’t quite ready to grow into his brother.

For once, Joe didn’t ride him on it longer. He just laughed and continued. “I called over

the weekend, but missed you.”

“I was out of town.” Ian’s voice dropped slightly, losing some of his enthusiasm. “I

didn’t get any messages.”

“I didn’t leave one. Where were you?”

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“Florida.”

Joe paused a second, waiting to see if Ian was going to elaborate. “With whom?” he

finally prodded.

“A friend.”

Ian was normally the most talkative of people, but around Joe he usually didn’t quite

know what to say. It wasn’t that he was tongue-tied, not so much, as he really didn’t

know what to say to Joe. He imagined Joe sitting in his plush office, wearing a suit and

tie. There would only be a single piece of paper on his desk and as soon as Joe was

finished with it some fancy assistant would come and whisk it away. He surveyed his

own office, which was filled with stacks of paper. He’d never actually seen Joe’s office,

but had no doubts about its spotlessness. Joe didn’t like messes.

However, he did like to tease Ian. “Let me guess: your friend was another one of your

girlfriends. She’s beautiful and rich.”

“Stop it.”

“My brother the playboy,” Joe razzed him.

“I said stop it. Listen, I’m trying to finish up here. What’d you want?”

“I’m going to be in town in a couple of weeks. I thought maybe we could get together for

dinner or something.”

They compared calendars and worked out some tentative logistics. Ian was anxious to

get going, but Joe didn’t seem quite ready to end the conversation. “Hey when are you

going to come visit? The kids would sure like to see you.”

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Ian squirmed in his chair. “Yeah, I need to get out there.” In truth, he liked Joe’s kids a

lot, as well as his wife, but there was only so much of that domestic tranquility he could

take. Given a choice between a bunch of soccer games or a weekend by the water with

Elina, the choice wasn’t too hard.

Joe continued to press. “Yeah, think about it. Mom and dad would love to hear from you

too.”

Now Ian began to bristle. “What, did the old man put you up to this? Did he tell you to

get me to call?”

“Now, now. Nobody asked me to ask you anything. I just know that we’d all love to see

you. I mean, I know you’re busy and all, but we just don’t want you to forget the rest of

your family.”

Ian sat up in his chair, ready to hang up the call. “I won’t,” he promised.

Chapter 25

The phone rang seconds after Ian had hung up with Joe. He jerked back in surprise, and

debated not answering it. Whatever else Joe might want didn’t seem all that important.

But after a couple of rings he picked it up grudgingly. “Yes?”

“Is that how you answer your phone, Mr. Russell?” Gaines’ voice said. “Not very

professional, is it now?” Gaines was calling from a payphone in a grungy bar he’d

carefully chosen. “This is Carl Gaines. Do you remember me?”

Ian was caught off guard. “I remember you,” he said carefully. “What do you want?”

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“I think you know what I want to talk about.”

“Well, I’m guessing – wild guess here – that you want to talk about Elina.”

“You would be correct. We need to discuss Ms. Jazy.”

Ian didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t see any reason to discuss his relationship with

Elina with either Gaines or her father. The tone of his voice toughened. “So talk.”

“Not over the phone. We should get together and discuss this.”

“Oh? Will this be another drive-by? The last one didn’t go too well.”

“No, we’ll sit down and talk like two adults. I’m in a bar and thought maybe you could

come by. It’s important.”

Ian thought for a second. Gaines was tied in with Elina’s father and things hadn’t gone

too well the previous time. Maybe Jazy had heard about the weekend, figured Elina was

serious, and now wanted Gaines to try to patch things up. He was about through working

for the day anyway. “OK, where?”

Gaines told him where he was. Ian was vaguely familiar with the bar’s location, but had

never been there. It was way across town in an old industrial neighborhood that was

teetering between going bad and getting worse. He tried to suggest a closer place, maybe

Darci’s, but Gaines was insistent on meeting where he was.

It took Ian a half an hour to get there. He stood outside the bar doubtfully before going

in. It was a rundown place, no longer quite a workingman’s bar but not quite a biker bar

yet either. It was not too crowded but already the stench of smoke and old beer

dominated, hitting him as soon as he walked in the door. He spotted Gaines sitting in a

booth a few feet away from the bar, nursing a beer and watching the door. He made his

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way over and slid into the opposite bench. “Nice place,” he said sarcastically, gesturing

to the rest of the bar. “So Jazy lets you out on your own?”

Gaines looked amused. “Now, now, Mr. Russell, let’s not get off on the wrong foot

again. Besides, I like this place – it has character.”

“Well, it has characters, I’ll give you that.”

A bored waitress who had seen better days and worse nights stopped by. Ian ordered a

beer, while Gaines indicated he was fine with the one he had. Ian noticed Gaines had not

touched much of it. Gaines waited silently until the waitress had returned with Ian’s

beer, watching him with that amused expression on his face.

“So what is all this about?” Ian asked.

“Let me come to the point,” Gaines said with a serious look. “It’s like this, Mr. Russell --

you need to stop seeing Elina.”

Ian shook his head. “That shit again? Don’t you ever give up?”

“No, I never do. Not unless it is in my best interest.” Gaines watched him with that calm

yet slightly amused expression.

“I think it is in your best interests to leave me and Elina alone,” Ian told him fiercely.

Gaines just shrugged his shoulders. Ian stared at him and saw he was completely serious

about his request. He began to get mad. “You must be nuts. You and that rat bastard

boss of yours.”

Gaines put out his hands in a cautioning gesture. “Now, now, no need for that.”

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“Well, you get me to drive halfway across town and you tell me I should stop seeing

Elina, like you and her father own her – I think it sounds a little nuts.”

Gaines leaned back in the booth. He picked up his bottle and absently played with it but

didn’t drink. “I like you, Russell. I have from the start.”

“Yeah, it shows. Thanks for nothing.”

“No, seriously. You’ve got balls and I like that. What matters now is if you have

brains.”

“What do you mean?”

Gaines leaned back in. “You have to know when to cut your losses.”

Ian looked at him skeptically. He was calming down, but not losing the fine point of his

anger. “And that time is now?”

Gaines nodded helpfully.

“Because you say so.” Ian was mocking him but trying not to be too obvious about it.

Gaines nodded again, and shrugged as if to suggest that it might be absurd but that’s the

way it was. If he was aware of Ian’s mocking tone he was ignoring it.

“What if I don’t think it’s time yet?” Now Ian was dead serious.

Gaines shook his head from side to side, moving very slowly but brooking no doubt. “It

doesn’t matter what you think,” he said softly. “I told you I liked you but there’s a time

when doing what you want is gutsy and a time when it’s stupid. Now, I don’t think you

are a dumb guy, and I’m hoping you’ll know this is that time.”

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“What are you, jealous?” Ian said. “You want her for yourself?”

Gaines barked out a short laugh. “It’s nothing personal. I work for Mr. Jazy. He likes

my work, because I get the job done, you know? Whatever it takes, I get it done. You

understand me?”

Ian surveyed Gaines more carefully. For all of his easygoing surface, there was an edge

to Gaines, and Ian knew what Gaines was suggesting to him without saying it. Gaines

was older than Ian, perhaps his brother’s age, but older still somehow. There would be

things he’d seen and things he’d done that Ian could only guess at. Still, Ian didn’t like

being pushed around. “So you’re here to scare me off?”

Gaines rolled his head slightly. “No, we’re just two guys talking here, talking about

smart choices.”

“What if I’m not so smart?”

Gaines shrugged again, and flashed him a quick smile. “Oh, you’re a smart guy, all right.

And we’ve got a little something for your troubles.”

Ian felt something move against his foot. Gaines had pushed something that felt like a

small bag. He thought back to when he had arrived, but he hadn’t noticed anything under

the table. Of course, it was a little dark to see under these tables, and generally he

suspected one wouldn’t really want to. He didn’t give Gaines the satisfaction of looking

down. “What’s that?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

For the second time in the conversation, Ian was dumbfounded. His jaw dropped and it

was a second or two before he recovered enough to respond. “Excuse me?”

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“For your time and trouble,” Gaines said diplomatically, enjoying Ian’s reaction.

Ian nodded knowingly, as if they were two businessmen consummating a deal. “So you

think you can buy me off?”

“Just look at it as payment for services rendered, so to speak.” Gaines winked at him.

Ian started a slow burn. “Fifty thousand dollars, eh? I guess I must rate pretty highly.

Let’s see, that makes how much for each time I slept with Elina…”

Gaines’ face fell slightly in disappointment, which gave Ian brief satisfaction. He looked

carefully at Ian. “Don’t push it, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Ian snapped back.

Gaines put his hands out again in a calming gesture. He smiled. “I always liked you, kid.

I’m pretty sure you’ll do the right thing here.”

“You mean the thing you want me to do.”

“Same thing.”

“What if I don’t?” They locked stares and Ian saw the coldness in Gaines’ eyes. He

might be smiling but he was ice cold. Gaines looked away first. “I’m pretty sure you

will.”

He moved to get up. Ian watched him, waiting for him to stand up before speaking.

“And if I don’t? Is that when you come back to scare me off? I don’t scare too easily.”

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Gaines stopped and looked back at him. He just smiled. “Excuse me for a second,” he

said, and walked over to the bar. Ian wasn’t quite sure if he was leaving or just wanted

another drink, although he’d barely touched his beer. He watched Gaines insert himself

between two pretty young women. He started chatting to them, in no hurry to get the

bartender’s attention.

The two women were attractive enough, Ian supposed. Nothing great but they wouldn’t

have to wait for closing to get picked up. In fact, Ian thought he’d seen them earlier with

a couple of guys. He idly wondered where their boyfriends were, but was more curious

about what Gaines might be saying to them. He seemed quite animated, but in the noise

of the bar Ian couldn’t make out the conversation.

He soon got the drift of it. The women’s faces first fell and then reacted with shock.

That made Gaines grin even more broadly, and he told them something else. One of the

women tried to slap him, but Gaines easily caught her hand. He slowly forced it down

towards his crotch, where he rubbed it against his groin. He put his other hand around

the back of the second woman’s head, and suddenly pulled her in for a long kiss. He

could tell she was protesting vigorously but nonetheless her mouth was getting a

thorough exploration from his tongue.

“What the hell is going on here?” someone roared. The two boyfriends had returned.

Perhaps they’d been playing pool, or possibly out back dealing drugs, but they had

arrived in time to witness at least some of the scene between Gaines and their women.

They were none too happy about it. Ian began to suspect that this had been part of

Gaines’ plan from the start.

The two men were large and muscular. One had a shaved head and sported numerous

tattoos, while the second had long hair and an unkempt beard. The shaved head one wore

a leather vest with no shirt, while the other wore a cut-off t-shirt, and each showed off

their muscular chests and arms. They’d been drinking, and were in a rowdy mood. Ian

suspected that it wasn’t so rare that they ended up in fights when they went out to places

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like this, although he had to think opportunities weren’t often presented to them quite so

openly.

Gaines emerged from his kiss and turned to them, leaning against the bar. He put his

hands on the girls’ thighs, as if claiming ownership. He gripped them hard, making the

girls squirm with discomfort. “Fuck off, losers.”

The bald one stepped forward. “Those are our women, asshole.” He had a mean look

that indicated he was going to enjoy what happened next.

Gaines looked at each of them in turn. “They are their own women, I think, not yours,

but in any event I’m enjoying sampling their pleasures. I was thinking of taking them out

in the alley and fucking them. What do you think?”

The two guys couldn’t believe his nerve. They looked at each other, as if to figure out

which one was going to get the pleasure of hitting him first. The bearded one won the

unspoken contest. “We’re going to fuck you up,” he told Gaines ominously.

“Hey, give it your best shot,” Gaines said amiably. He squeezed the girls’ thighs and

pushed away from the bar. He stood casually a few feet away from the men. Ian noticed

that the drama had the full attention of the bar’s patrons, and that the immediate crowd

had edged away. They were giving the three combatants some room but otherwise were

watching with rapt attention. He also noticed that, as relaxed as Gaines appeared, he was

standing with his weight balanced carefully, with his hands in front of him.

“Try this on!” the bald one suddenly yelled, moving in with a roundhouse blow. He

moved quickly and packed a lot of power behind the punch, but Gaines just watched him

with an amused look. It was as though the bald man was moving in slow motion. Gaines

leaned back just enough for the punch to go whipping by his head. When the man’s

momentum had carried him past his ability to control it, Gaines moved like a cobra

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striking. He shifted his weight deliberately and landed a blow directly to the man’s mid-

section.

Ian had seen those martial arts demonstrations where the master breaks a bunch of boards

or even concrete bricks with a single powerful blow. Gaines’ strike was exactly like that,

and it had much the same effect on the man. The sound of all the air in him whoosing out

silenced the bar. He folded up and fell to the floor in a heap.

No one moved for a second. Everyone was too stunned to do anything, except Gaines.

He just stood there watching the second man. Ian guessed that, given a free choice, at

that moment the man would have chosen to run away. But his woman had been

molested, his friend felled, and everyone at the bar knew it. He grabbed a beer bottle and

ran at Gaines screaming. With a single move Gaines caught his hand, made him drop the

bottle, and twisted it around his back. He apparently found a nerve juncture, and the man

dropped to his knees in agony. Gaines forced his arm up higher behind his back,

continuing his pressure on the wrist. The man started blubbering and leaning closer to

the ground. Gaines raised his eyes to Ian’s.

Ian now understood that this had all been staged for his benefit. Not staged as in faked,

for Gaines had definitely hurt both of these guys badly, and effortlessly. Staged as in

their humiliation was what Gaines had wanted him to see. He had provoked these two

because he wanted him to know what he would do to Ian if he didn’t back off Elina. Ian

and Gaines stared at each other silently for a few long seconds, and this time it was Ian

who broke it off first.

Ian stood up. “Stop it.”

Gaines continued to watch Ian. The bar was dead silent. These guys might be regulars

here, and the bartender or bouncer might be used to quelling disputes among the patrons,

but no one was going to risk tangling with Gaines.

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“I said, stop it,” Ian repeated. He scowled at Gaines.

Gaines theatrically let go of the man’s hand. The man slumped to the floor like he was

melting, and both he and his friend lay on the floor moaning. Gaines grinned at Ian. “I

knew you were a smart guy.”

The crowd was hushed. It was a rough crowd, used to fights and usually happy to see

them. This was different. This was a big, crazy grizzly bear that had wandered into their

midst. All any of them wanted to do was keep quiet and hope he didn’t notice them. All

they could do was hope that he’d get tired and just leave, or, failing that, pick on someone

else, anyone else. Gaines smiled at Ian. He pointed at him. “You and me, Ian. One of

these days we’re going to tangle.”

Ian was infuriated. Unlike the rest of the crowd, he wasn’t slinking away. “You want

some of me?” he shouted. “Come on. Right now, right here!”

Gaines didn’t want a fight; not then, anyway. He used anger like he used anything else:

as a weapon. Angry opponents made rash choices, did stupid things that he could exploit.

He didn’t believe in getting angry himself but he definitely enjoyed making other people

mad. He put his palms up. “Not here, sport,” he said apologetically. “Some other time.”

He moved towards the door, but stopped before leaving. The crowd was beginning to

move again, but froze when he turned around. He again looked directly at Ian. “Don’t

forget your bag,” he told Ian tauntingly.

Chapter 26

Ian sat outside The Bitter End in his car. Things had escalated faster than he was ready

for. First the craziness with Ashley, with Sokov extorting her to try to seduce him. Then

the whirlwind romance with Elina. Add Elina’s crazy dad and now the sadistic Gaines,

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mix in the unexpected fifty thousand dollars sitting on his lap, and all told it portrayed a

world he was not used to.

The bag sat heavy on his lap. He’d dealt with that much money before, of course, but not

in cash. Not in cash and not in an unmarked bag that was meant to sway him from seeing

the woman he had come to believe he might love. He would not have taken well to

anyone trying to bribe him, and he damn well was not prepared to stop seeing Elina just

because Gaines flashed this kind of cash. Still, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. It

was a lot of money. Maybe he could buy a boat and sail around with Elina for a while.

Or perhaps he should drive up to Jazy’s house and throw the damn money in his face.

There would be a lot of satisfaction in doing that. There would also be lots of risk; he

kind of figured Jazy would not react well to it. So he had another idea for what to do

with it.

He opened the bag one more time and looked at the cash. He breathed in the smell of it,

and fingered a pack of bills reverently. It had a nice feeling to it; he could get used to it,

but that wasn’t going to happen. He sighed and went into The Bitter End.

The guard by Sokov’s door paled when he saw Ian walk towards him. He slid off the

stool and backed away, keeping Ian in view until he was far enough away. Then he

turned and rushed out the door. Ian just kept walking, but smiled to himself. Two can

play at this scaring game, he thought to himself in satisfaction. He opened the door to

Sokov’s office and let himself in.

Sokov started when he saw him. He awkwardly reached for his desk drawer with the

hand that wasn’t in a cast. Andre stood up and picked up a baseball bat that was lying on

the table in front of him, an armament that hadn’t been there last time Ian had been there.

Ian’s tire iron had evidently started a little arms war. Andre tapped the bat against his

palm with some satisfaction, smiled evilly at Ian, and started to move to cut him off from

reaching Sokov’s desk.

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“Relax, you two,” Ian said, stopping just inside the door. “I’m here to make peace.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Sokov said. His hand was inside the desk, but Ian

noticed that at least he didn’t pull out a gun and shoot him.

“Believe this,” Ian said, and tossed the bag towards the desk. It landed with a convincing

thud on top of the desk. Sokov looked briefly at it, then gave him a skeptical look.

“Open it up,” Ian urged him.

Sokov motioned to Andre, and pushed his chair away from the desk. He hadn’t pulled

out the gun. Andre laid the bat on the desk slowly. Ian wondered how Andre felt about

being the designed bomb tester. Andre seemed used to it, carefully opening up the bag

and looking inside without obvious concern.

“There’s money in it,” Andre told Sokov. “Lots of money.”

“Fifty thousand dollars,” Ian informed them. “Ashley Wilde’s husband owed you forty,

so consider the extra ten as something for your time and trouble.”

“It’s forty five now with the vig,” Sokov told him. He rolled back to the desk and

reached for the money. He started fingering it gingerly.

“So that still leaves you five free and clear.”

Sokov looked up at him. “You’re giving this to me?”

“I’m paying off her debts. You leave Ashley alone now.”

Andre snorted, which made Sokov smile. “Her husband will owe us again by tomorrow.

He’s got the jones, man.”

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“Maybe so, but she’s free of him. What he does with you is his own business. She’s out

of it. Understood?”

Sokov looked back at the money, and nodded. “Understood.” He looked back up at Ian

and smiled a crooked smile. “Nice doing business with you.”

Andre reached for his bat, but Sokov quietly put his hand on it and shook his head. Ian

took the cue and backed out of the office. He left the bar and drove home.

Later that night Elina called him. “Hey, there.”

Ian was surprised. “You never call.”

“Want me to hang up?” she asked impishly.

“Nah, we can hang for a bit,” he responded. “Where are you? Are you back in town?

Come on over.”

“No,” she said regretfully. “I’m in New York. I’m not coming back right away. I have

to go out of the country for a couple weeks.”

Ian felt oddly disappointed, something he wasn’t used to. “That’s kind of unexpected,

isn’t it?”

“My father called me this afternoon and asked me to go. He’s got some deals brewing

and he needs me to go talk to some of his partners.”

“For a couple of weeks?”

“I’m sorry. I was looking forward to seeing you.”

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“Me too. I have some crazy stories to tell you.”

“Good stories or bad?”

Ian smiled, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “A bit of both.”

“So tell me the stories,” she pleaded.

“Not on the phone. I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“Tell me the good one, anyway.”

Ian caught himself. It was all too crazy. The rest of his life felt like another world when

he was talking to Elina. She was miles away and just a voice on the phone, but felt more

real to him than the recent events he’d been through. “It’s complicated. The good thing

is that I was able to help Ashley out tonight, but I needed some of the bad story for that to

happen.”

“Hmm. Give me a hint.”

“Well, I had fifty thousand dollars in cash for about an hour tonight.”

Elina laughed. “You have had an interesting day, haven’t you? I can’t leave you alone

for a day without you getting into trouble.”

“So come back,” Ian told her earnestly.

“I wish I could. I have an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Ian was intrigued. Maybe she’d want to have phone sex or something

kinky.

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“I’ll be in Paris weekend after next. Ever been there?”

“Never. I’ve heard it’s pretty cool.”

Now Elina threw him the long one. “Why don’t you meet me there?”

Ian was taken aback. He was silent for a moment. Florida was one thing, but Paris was

another whole matter. He found himself warming to the idea. “Paris, eh?”

“You have a passport?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Well, then? What would stop you?”

Ian only needed a moment to think. “All right,” Ian decided. “That sounds cool.”

“It’s supposed to sound romantic,” Elina said mournfully.

“Hey, doing anything with you is romantic,” Ian told her. “Going to Dairy Queen with

you would be romantic.”

“That’s so sweet.”

Elina told him where she’d be staying, and gave him some flight options she’d already

researched for him. They made some plans to meet in a little sidewalk café she knew on

the Left Bank. “I probably won’t talk to you before then” Elina told him. “Between the

time differences and my traveling, I won’t have much time. Plus I don’t like to mix my

personal life with business. Just leave me a message at the hotel if you decide not to

come so I won’t be waiting there for you.”

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“I’ll be there,” Ian promised her.

He made his plane reservations as soon as they got off the phone.

Chapter 27

The next morning Gaines went reluctantly to see Jazy in his study. He had bad news for

Jazy and wasn’t looking forward to sharing it with him. Jazy was on the phone when

Gaines came in, but when he saw the expression on Gaines’ face he ended the call. “I’ll

call you back later,” he told his caller, and hung up the phone. He studied Gaines closely.

“What’s up?”

Gaines sat down across from him. He didn’t have his usual casualness, and seemed

eminently disappointed. “It’s bad.”

Jazy pursed his lips. “Tell me.”

Gaines sighed. “Russell took our fifty thousand dollars and gave it to Sokov. He paid off

Mr. Wilde’s debt, on Ms. Wilde’s behalf.”

Jazy was silent for a second. He hadn’t expected that, but he wasn’t too disappointed.

He didn’t really care where the money went, as long as it served its purpose. He had the

feeling, though, that Gaines wasn’t quite through. “So? That would seem to be good.

Your plan succeeded at last – he developed feelings for this woman. Congratulations.”

Gaines shook his head. “Elina called him last night.”

Jazy pulled his head back slightly. “And how do you know?”

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“She called him using the company cell.”

“Which we monitor.”

“Which we monitor,” Gaines confirmed. He took out a small recorder from his jacket

pocket. He put it on Jazy’s desk, and kept his gaze down. He didn’t want to look at Jazy.

“Tell me,” Jazy commanded. “No, play it.”

Gaines reluctantly turned on the tape. He had listened to it several times already, but this

was the hardest of all. Jazy listened to it intently, staring at the small recorder as though

his daughter were saying those words right then. Gaines watched Jazy, whose face

showed no emotion, not even when his daughter proposed a romantic weekend in Paris,

nor when the man whom he had just authorized the payment of fifty thousand dollars to

leave his daughter alone readily accepted the offer. When the tape ended Jazy looked up

at Gaines, his expression stony. “Any chance Russell was just playing along? You

know, pretending to agree but just stringing her along?”

Gaines shook his head. “We checked. He booked a flight within the hour. We – I –

have to face facts. He has no intention of leaving your daughter alone. I have failed

you.”

Jazy stood up and went over to the window. Gaines watched him but could not tell what

Jazy was thinking. Jazy was normally impassive, but right now he was in a especially

distant place. His hard heart was turning fully to stone, and when he came out of his

reverie he would want Gaines to do something. Gaines didn’t know what it would be, but

he was pretty sure Russell would be sorry. Jazy had given him some rope, and Russell

had hung himself with it. On second thought, hanging would be a lot nicer than whatever

Jazy intended for him. And Gaines would go along with it, help with it – whatever it

was.

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Finally Jazy turned to him. He gave Gaines a searching stare that brooked no

disagreement. “Now we do things my way.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go.”

Jazy told their driver to go to Darci’s. They went in the back door, using Jazy’s key to

get in. They walked unannounced into Jack Holland’s office. Holland was reclining on

the couch, a naked blond woman vigorously giving him oral sex. His eyes were closed

and a beatific expression was on his face.

“Auditioning the help, Jack?” Gaines teased in a cold tone.

Holland opened his eyes in surprise, and was immediately flustered. He took in Jazy and

Gaines. “Marko, Carl. Come in.” The girl started to pull away, but Holland grabbed her

head and urged her back to her work. “Don’t stop now, honey. I’m liable to explode.”

Gaines stepped forward and grabbed the girl’s arm. “Let him explode. Beat it, darling.”

He picked up a few articles of her clothing – which would not cover much more of her –

and tossed them after her. She retreated out the door, trying to cover herself as she crept

out of the room. Holland watched her go with disappointment. “Damn, Marko, why’d

you have to do that? It was just a little pick me up.”

Gaines looked down at Holland’s still open pants and grinned. “A damn little one, if you

asked me.”

Holland frowned and quickly fumbled with his pants. “You’re a hard man, Carl.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same for you,” Gaines said with a cruel smile.

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Jazy sat down behind Holland’s desk. If Holland minded Jazy usurping his place, he

knew better than to say anything. Jazy had given the money to start Darci’s, and still

used it to launder money. He knew exactly who and what Jazy was, and he knew better

than to cross him. “What’s up, Marko?”

Jazy stared at him stonily. “I need you to do something for me.” Gaines perched on the

edge of the desk, watching Holland. Holland gave him a worried glance, knowing that

Gaines could reach him before he knew it and hurt him. He also knew that Gaines would

probably enjoy it, too, and was waiting for Holland to give him a reason.

“Name it,” Holland said expansively.

“You said Elina introduced you to a guy named Ian Russell.”

“Umm,” Holland stalled, trying to remember the name.

“She introduced him to you here,” Gaines said helpfully. “He’s in real estate.”

“Oh, yeah,” Holland said, recalling. It was very unusual for Elina Jazy to be with

someone, which is why he had mentioned it to Gaines after it happened. “Good looking

guy. She seemed to like him a lot.”

Jazy and Gaines looked quickly at each other, and Holland felt he had said the wrong

thing. He was silent, not wanting to make another mistake. “Yeah, well, we need you to

call him,” Gaines said.

Holland started to relax. “Sure. You want to meet him or something.”

Gaines grinned, but it was startlingly cruel. “Something like that.”

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Holland looked over at Gaines and was afraid again. He was treading on very thin ice

here, he knew. He slipped a quick glance over at Jazy, who was pure ice. The exception

were his eyes, which bore into Holland like hot coals. “We want you to call him and tell

him you’re interested in seeing a piece of property.”

Gaines tossed him a cell phone. He caught it, bobbling it before he got hold of it. “Use

this phone, and then get rid of it. Don’t give it away, don’t use it again. Make sure it is

destroyed and can’t be traced back to you.” The unspoken threat was there: “or to us.”

Holland listened while Jazy gave him the final details. They would let him know when

he was to call, and they would give him the address to tell Russell. “So am I supposed to

meet him there?” Holland asked after Jazy finished.

“No,” Jazy told him firmly. “Go out in the club. Be seen by lots of people. Make sure

everyone knows where you are for a few hours after you’ve called him.”

Holland knew what they meant. They wanted him to have an alibi. He began to be

worried about what he would be needing an alibi for. Jazy stood up, prompting Gaines to

stand as well. They came over closer to him, and Jazy sat on the edge of the couch next

to him. “You’re going to get some heat on this, Jack,” he said in a soft voice. “Just

remember: you don’t know him, you never called him, you have no idea about any

meeting.”

“Right.” Holland nodded eagerly.

“They can’t prove anything if you stick to the story.” Jazy looked at him very closely,

and Holland felt his fear rise again. Jazy put his hand on Holland’s knee and squeezed

hard. Holland jerked with surprise. “And, of course, we never had this conversation.”

“Of course, of course,” Holland reassured him as convincingly as he could. “Mum’s the

word.”

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“No matter what,” Gaines said ominously. He reached out and tapped Holland on the

cheek lightly, turning what Holland thought was going to be a slap into a tap at the last

moment and making him recoil in fear.

“No matter what,” Holland agreed eagerly. Gaines and Jazy left without a backward

glance.

Ian’s phone rang later that afternoon. “Ian Russell,” he answered.

“Hi, Ian,” Ashley said in a tentative tone of voice.

“Ashley,” he exclaimed. “Hang on.” He got up and closed his office door. “Where are

you?”

“I’m at my mom’s, in Kansas City. I’ve been staying here for a few days. She’s getting

kind of curious about how long I’m staying, and so am I.”

Ian nodded to himself. They could have tracked her down if they’d wanted but at least

she’d made it harder for them by getting out of town. “Listen, I have some good news.”

“What’s that?” Ashley’s voice betrayed her hope.

“You’re clear with Sokov.”

Ashley was silent, and for a moment Ian wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “I said, you’re

clear with Sokov. I squared it.”

“You said that before,” Ashley said in a tired tone of voice. “It didn’t stop them.”

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“This will. I got the money and paid him off.”

“You got forty thousand dollars?” Ashley asked incredulously.

“Well, your husband’s debt had actually gotten to forty-five thousand,” Ian told her

helpfully.

“Forty-five?”

“So I gave him fifty thousand and we called it even,” Ian said cheerfully.

Ashley didn’t know what to say. He imagined her sitting in her old bedroom, talking on

the phone in muted tones so her mother wouldn’t hear like she was still in high school.

He wasn’t far wrong. “I don’t…” she started.

“It’s OK.”

“How did you ever get that much money?” she asked. “You didn’t use your own money,

did you? I couldn’t let you do that.”

“No, it’s not my money, but it’s a pretty funny story. I think I’ve figured out what’s been

going on. I’ll tell you about it sometime over dinner.”

“Promise?” she asked. She sounded like that high school girl again, young and starting to

feel full of hope again for the first time since he’d known her.

“Promise,” he told her firmly.

Chapter 28

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Ian was almost ready to leave for the day when the phone rang. He had another softball

game, and briefly considered not answering it. But it was not quite time to go, and,

besides, it could be Elina. Or Ashley. He picked it up.

“Ian, it’s Jack Holland. How are you doing?”

Ian was slightly taken aback, but didn’t let it show in his voice. He quickly started to tap

away on his PC to pull up the profile he had started on Holland. “Jack, I’m glad you

called. How’s the nightclub business?”

“Busy. Listen -- I want to take you up on your offer to show me some properties. I’ve

got some investors who want to start a new club. Maybe a couple.”

“Great.” Ian reviewed the information he had, as well as some possibilities he had

matched with Holland. “Yeah, great. I’ve got several ideas for you. Let’s set a time and

I’ll show you what I had in mind.”

Holland paused. “Actually, Ian, I have a property in mind. You guys are the listed

brokers. I passed it the other day and I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Great. Which one is it?”

Holland gave Ian the address. It was not one of the ones Ian had been thinking about, and

he quickly pulled the listing. He thought rapidly. It was a deserted former warehouse in

a decaying part of town. There wasn’t much commercial activity left in the area, much

less retail stores or restaurants. Putting a club there would be a long shot – or it could

lead to a new hot neighborhood that Meyers could help generate. He decided. “Yeah,

I’ve got it. When do you want to go see it?”

“How about now?”

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Ian furrowed his brow. “OK,” he said slowly. “Should I pick you up at Darci’s? We can

talk on the way out and you can look over some information on the listing?”

“No, I’ll meet you there,” Holland said. His voice sounded tight. “I have, umm,

something I need to do on the way.”

Ian thought this all sounded a bit odd. He was tempted to postpone the meeting and go

play softball with his friends. He could pull some other properties and do a round robin

with Holland, figure out what he was really looking for. But Holland seemed insistent,

and Ian hated the thought of him calling someone else. “OK. I’ll see you there in, say,

forty-five minutes.”

Ian drove there. He still hoped he could have a quick meet and make his game. He

pulled up to the warehouse a few minutes early and killed the car’s engine. There were

no other cars around or passersby. This neighborhood definitely would take a lot of

work, but he was already starting to think of how one might market its isolation as part of

its character. He decided to go in and check out the place before Holland arrived.

There were no light on, but there was plenty of light coming in from the high bay

windows. He immediately saw that he wasn’t alone. Sitting on a folding chair on a

loading dock was Marko Jazy.

“Well, well, well,” he said. He looked around and saw several other men emerge from

the shadows. Gaines materialized from behind a column near him, with that lazy smile

on his face. Ian took it all in and moved towards Jazy. “I take it Mr. Holland won’t be

joining us.”

“No, Mr. Holland won’t be joining us,” Jazy said gravely. He watched Ian carefully, but

remained seated, his hands folded in his lap.

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Ian stopped below the loading dock. He gestured to their surroundings. “Why all the

subterfuge, Marko? I mean, you’ve got that big old house, that big limo. Why not just

get together like normal people?”

Jazy smiled coldly. “I have my reasons.”

Ian was aware of the men forming a loose semi-circle around him, effectively blocking

any quick exits. He thought quickly about the layout. There were a couple of doors, but

he wasn’t sure which might be open, aside from the front door. He hadn’t seen any cars,

which ether meant there were cars around back, and possibly an open door. Or Jazy

might have had his car drop them off. No, the front door was his best bet. “What can I

do for you, Mr. Jazy?”

“Oh, it is a little late for that.”

Jazy’s eyes looked to bore through him, and Ian began to get more worried. He didn’t

like anything about this set-up. Jazy had proven, in their earlier meeting, and in the

meeting with his surrogate Gaines, to be a tough character. He’d tried to warn Ian off,

then scare him off. Ian figured they’d try to scare him again, threaten him at the very

least. Still, he was an optimist, always thinking he could talk his way out of almost any

situation. He considered his gambit.

“Listen, Mr. Jazy, let’s talk about this,” he said in his most sincere voice. “Tell me what

is bothering you and maybe we can work it out.”

Jazy showed no emotion. “The thought of you with Elina bothers me.”

That didn’t give Ian much room to maneuver. He tried to not let his irritation show on

his face or in his voice. “What exactly about me and your daughter bothers you?”

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Jazy snorted. “You do not belong with her. You are just another silly playboy.” He spat

the last word out with disgust.

Ian raised his hands beseechingly. “Hey, hey – I admit I’ve dated a few women in my

life, but I’m no player. I’m not a bump & run kind of guy, not normally.”

“How reassuring,” Jazy said sarcastically. His men moved in slightly, waiting for some

sign from Jazy. Ian felt more worried.

“No, no, I mean – I really care for Elina, and I think she really cares for me too.” Ian

looked around and saw Gaines watching him with dead eyes. He might have a smile on

his face, but his eyes showed no humor.

Jazy waved a hand. “That’s the problem, you see. It doesn’t matter what you say, or

what you think. I don’t want you involved with her.”

Now Ian was getting annoyed. “Look, it really doesn’t matter what you think. Elina is a

grown woman. She can make up her own mind.”

Jazy shook his head violently. Ian was evidently not the only one who was getting

annoyed. “No,” he thundered. “She is a young girl. She needs my guidance in these

matters.”

Ian laughed. “I hate to break it to you, but Elina is free, white, and over twenty-one.

Where I come from that means she makes up her own mind about who she wants to be

with.”

“Not where I come from.”

Jazy uttered these words in a cold whisper, and Ian began to think, for the first time, that

he really might be in trouble. He quickly looked around again and calculated the odds.

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Four men, blocking straight line access to possible lines of escape. Each of them looked

capable to doing some serious business. He focused on one of them in particular. “Well,

well, well, my old friend from the parking lot,” he said, nodding towards Walker.

“How’s the ribs?”

Walker’s eyes practically bulged with anger, and he started to move in towards Ian.

Gaines cut him off with a quick hand motion. Walker stopped, but only after glancing at

Jazy.

Ian was nodding. It was starting to come together. He looked back at Jazy. “I get it.

You sent bozo here to scare me off, didn’t you? Only it didn’t work so well, did it? I

didn’t get scared off, and I whooped his ass while I was at it.” He looked over smugly at

Walker.

“No, he went after you all on his own” Gaines said. Ian turned his head to look at him.

Gaines seemed amused. “This isn’t a parking lot and I’m not Walker.” He didn’t seem

to care about the other three men.

Ian looked at him for a long moment, then back at Jazy. “I thought he was trying to scare

me off about someone else. It never occurred to me that it was Elina he was talking

about.”

Jazy didn’t move. He just stared at him with hatred. “You took my money,” Jazy said

slowly. “You took my money to stay away from my daughter, and then you make plans

to see her again anyway. No one crosses me like that.”

Ian was startled. “I wasn’t given a choice about your money, and anyway -- how the hell

did you know about me…” he started. It came to him and he stopped. “You son of a

bitch. You monitor her calls. No wonder she doesn’t like to call me.” He was starting to

get very angry, and rashly threw something out that he shouldn’t have. “That’s why she

just usually showed up at my house late at night without calling.”

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If Jazy had seemed cold before, now he was a volcano boiling under a glacier. The

glacier might hold back the eruption for a while, but eventually it was going to blow. Big

time. Ian began, for the first time, to get worried. They weren’t here just to scare him.

They wanted to hurt at him. He rapidly recalculated his odds and his options. Still, Ian

could not resist taking another shot. “It’s the money, isn’t it?’ he asked wonderingly.

“It’s not really about Elina at all, is it? You just want your fucking money back.”

“Oh, we already have the money back, boy-o,” Gaines said coolly. “Don’t you worry

about that.”

The final piece fell into place then for Ian. He stared at Gaines for a second, then looked

over with something close to horror at Jazy. “It was you all along, wasn’t it? You

arranged for Sokov to try to pimp out Ashley Wilde, didn’t you? You offered to pay him

didn’t you?”

Jazy smiled slowly. It was not a pretty sight. “Very good, Mr. Russell. You are too late

but you finally have realized how out of your depth you are.” He nodded almost

imperceptivity in Gaines’ direction.

The first blow took Ian by surprise. He and Jazy had locked stares, and so when Gaines

hit him hard in his kidneys Ian was stunned by both the shock of it and the pain. He

grunted and edged away quickly, turning towards Gaines. “You mother…”

Another blow hit him from behind, not as hard but still catching him unprepared.

“Fuck!” he gasped in pain. These guys meant business. He started turning in a circle,

trying to keep all four of his attackers in sight. There were too many of them to keep

them all within sight, and he had a very bad feeling about things. Gaines seemed alive in

the way that he had at the bar, feeding off inflicting damage. Ian knew he had to make

his move before they had done too much damage. He quickly let his eyes slip over

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towards the front door, and saw that Gaines moved marginally in that direction to

forestall a move in that direction.

Instead, Ian whipped out a leg that caught Walker at the knee. His kick made Walker’s

knee move in a direction that knees usually don’t, and Walker’s knee did not do well

under the attack. It buckled and he fell to the ground with a scream of pain.

The way to Jazy was clear. The loading dock was only three feet or so above ground

level, and Ian figured he could take it with a running jump. He had concluded that he had

no chance to either fight off the four men – well, three now – or to evade them long

enough to make it out any door. Holding Jazy as hostage was his only chance.

He almost made it. He burst through the hole in the gauntlet that he had created and

jumped up on the dock, heading straight towards Jazy. If he had had time to think about

it, he might have been disappointed to observe that Jazy did not show the slightest change

of expression as Ian came towards him like a runaway freight train. No fear, no surprise.

It was almost as if he was expecting it. Jazy was a good-sized man, but he was much

older and Ian felt sure he could subdue him.

But he hadn’t counted on the gun. Jazy uncovered his folded hands just as Ian was about

to reach him and pointed the gun at him. There was no wavering and no question that

Jazy was prepared, even eager, to shoot him. Ian stopped suddenly. He saw Jazy smile

cruelly at him.

“What, you’re going to shoot me for dating your daughter?” Ian challenged him, irate at

the ridiculousness of the situation. Jazy’s face took on a more contemplative expression,

and for a second Ian thought perhaps he had come to his senses. Then Jazy nodded just

slightly at someone behind him.

“No, we’re not going to shoot you,” Gaines said from behind him. Then, without further

ado, he proceeded to strike.

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The blow hit him in the head. He wasn’t sure who had hit him, but he didn’t have time to

find out before the second blow landed, from a different direction. Then a flurry of

blows. He got in a few hits of his own, doing a little damage but not deterring the

relentless assault. He couldn’t keep all of them in sight at once, and he especially had to

keep an eye on Gaines. The others were dangerous but he knew Gaines was scary. As

soon as he turned away for a second to land a solid blow in the groin of one of the others,

Gaines landed a savage blow that felled him and he was down. He tried in vain to get up

but the others all started landing brutal kicks.

He heard Walker stop moaning. Evidently he’d pulled himself upright to watch the

carnage. “That’s got to hurt,” he said as someone kicked Ian in the ribs. “Oh, yeah,

that’s got to hurt too.” This time it was a kick in the head, even though Ian had tried to

curl in the fetal position to protect himself.

“Shut up,” Gaines snarled at Walker.

“Fuck you,” Walker muttered back.

“Enough kicking,” Jazy interrupted. “Use the bats.” He tossed a bag towards the three

men. They opened it up and took out several baseball bats.

Ian was already hurting. He was badly bruised and thought maybe a rib and perhaps his

nose was broken. He tried to get himself upright during the brief respite but when he saw

the bats he quickly dropped back down in the fetal position.

Jazy smiled at the sight. He stood up and walked over to the edge of the dock for a better

view. “Not so quick with words now, eh, Mr. Russell? Perhaps you are ready to

apologize.”

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Jazy might be offering him an out. Ian somehow didn’t trust that he was, and in any

event his pride would not allow him to apologize to a piece of garbage like Jazy. “Fuck

you.”

“Indeed,” Jazy replied. “You may proceed, gentleman.”

Ian lost track of how long they hit him. He was only aware of the pain, increasingly

exponentially. Just when he thought it couldn’t hurt much worse, it did, in every part of

his body. He started to slip in and out of consciousness. The blows would slow when he

went under and restarted when he came back to the world. Then, finally, they stopped.

Ian was a broken man. Literally – he had broken bones in almost very part of his body.

His face was almost unrecognizable and his eyes were almost closed shut. But he was

still aware. He heard Jazy walked down the steps and come towards him.

“Is he still alive?” Jazy asked.

“Yeah, he’s hanging in there,” Gaines said.

“What about it, Mr. Russell? Do you want to beg me for your life? Would you promise

never to see Elina again now if we promised to stop?” Jazy’s tone was solicitous, but Ian

still retained enough awareness to know Jazy was taunting him.

“Fuck you, Jazy,” he managed to croak. “You don’t deserve your daughter. When I tell

her what kind of person you really are she’ll never speak to you again.”

Jazy managed some mock surprise. “Well, then. We’d better make sure she never finds

out.” He asked one of the men to hand him a new surprise from the bag. “Take his pants

down.”

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Ian felt more than saw Jazy lean over him. “It’s a bolt cutter, Mr. Russell. Only in this

case, perhaps it is more appropriately called a nut cutter, so to speak. And this is

something I will do myself, so know that it is I doing this to you.” He paused for a

second. “You know what I regret, Mr. Russell?”

“Fuck you,” Ian spat at him through his broken teeth and bloody mouth. He tried to kick,

but found someone was holding his legs down. Trying to move them hurt even more, but

Ian no longer cared.

“I just wish you had a wife and children,” Jazy said, leaning over so he could be sure Ian

would hear then. “I’d make sure they died slowly and painfully.”

Ian was beyond rage, if not beyond pain. He should just acquiesce to the inevitable, but

his stubborn pride would not allow him to let Jazy make such statements to him. Ancient

instincts of revenge and payback boiled up inside, even if he would not be the one to

extract the revenge. “You won’t get away with this,” he said as forcefully as he could

muster.

Jazy just laughed. “And who will stop us, Mr. Russell? By the time we’re through, even

your friends will pretend they didn’t know you. We’ll kill you and then we’ll destroy

your reputation.” He leaned closer, until he was inches away from Ian’s face. He waited

until he was sure Ian was able to listen through the pain. “You’ll leave nothing.”

Ian was looking death in the face. He saw the fury in Jazy’s eyes. He knew he was dead,

and he also knew now that Jazy meant what he had just said. Exactly what Jazy would

do to spin this gruesome affair against him, Ian didn’t know, but he no longer doubted

Jazy was clever enough to accomplish it. Still, Ian didn’t have it in him to just lie there

and die. “My brother is going to fuck you up,” he spat out, blood sputtering out of his

mouth. Jazy had to back away to avoid getting spattered. “You and your friends. He’ll

get you.” Under other circumstances Ian would have felt silly, like he was five again,

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throwing out his brother as a protector. But he had no other cards left to play at this

point.

Jazy just laughed. “We’ll see about that. Now, let’s see how you like this.”

Ian felt the rough metal against him, not really realizing what was going to happen. By

the time he did, it was too late. The pain was incredible. The last thing he remembered

before he passed out was feeling sorry that he’d brought his brother into it.

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Chapter 29

The telephone woke Joe from a good dream. He had been on a beach somewhere, sitting

in a lounge chair watching the ocean. It was big, blue, and noisy, with the constant

rumble of the waves crashing in. It was warm there – hot, really – with a blazing sun in

the cloudless blue skies. He appreciated the shade of the large umbrella his chair was

under, as well as the tropical drink in his hand. The dream hadn’t really been about the

ocean, of course. It was really about the woman next to him, sitting in her own chair

wearing a string bikini. She was a coworker in his waking life, an attractive woman with

whom he frequently worked and occasionally traveled. He’d never seen her in a bikini,

of course, but he imagined that this was how she would look.

Joe was a light sleeper and the telephone roused him immediately. He regretfully left his

little island romance and reached the receiver before it could ring twice. He hoped he

had gotten it before it had woken his wife Debbie.

Late night phone calls were never good news. His kids were too young to be out and in

trouble, and he knew his wife was next to him, so she was safe. That either left a work

emergency of some sort, or bad news about his parents. If it was work, he’d be gruff

with whomever was calling so late, but he hoped that’s all it would be.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Joseph Russell?” the caller inquired.

It was a woman, Joe concluded, and not a familiar voice. “Yes. Who wants to know and

why are you calling so late?” He sensed rather than saw Debbie start to rouse, rolling

over on her side to face him in the dark.

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The caller identified herself as a Detective Kincaid. When she told him which Police

Department she was with Joe quickly realized that the call must be about Ian. He began

to wonder what Ian had gotten himself into this time. Maybe he was in jail – a traffic

accident or perhaps a bar brawl of some sort. “Are you related to a Mr. Ian Russell?”

Detective Kincaid asked at last.

“Yes, I’m his brother. What seems to be the problem?” Behind him, Debbie put a

reassuring hand on his back to let him know she was awake and listening. She started to

gently rub his back.

There was a pause before Detective Kincaid replied, and it was that pause that caused Joe

to tense slightly. “Mr. Russell, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your brother is dead.”

She sounded genuinely sorry about the facts she had so baldy stated.

This time it was Joe’s turn to pause. He could scarcely believe the words he had heard.

Maybe this was part of his dream, he found himself suddenly hoping. “What do you

mean?” he asked carefully, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up.

Debbie’s hand lost contact momentarily, then found him again.

“Your brother was murdered. I’m sorry to have to give you the bad news, especially over

the phone.”

Joe’s head was swimming. “I don’t understand,” he managed to say. “Murdered?”

Debbie’s hand stopped its massage of his now-tense back.

“Unfortunately, yes. Mr. Russell, I’m sure this is a terrible shock to you, but there are

some arrangements that are going to have to be made. About the body and the funeral

and all. Are you the person that will be handling all that?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” The weight of it all was starting to become real to Joe, and the

darkness in his bedroom seemed darker than he could bear.

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Detective Kincaid gave him the phone number and address of the police headquarters,

and told him he could come by to claim the body, after it had been autopsied. Joe told

her that he’d be there in the morning.

Joe hung up the phone slowly. “What is it?” Debbie asked, sitting up.

He sat still on the edge of the bed. “Ian’s dead.”

“Dead?” Debbie gasped. She put a hand to her mouth.

“Murdered.” The word lay out there, uninvited and unsavory but impossible to ignore.

“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed. “How…”

“I don’t know any details,” he told her. He stood up. “I’m going out there tomorrow

morning, so I better start making arrangements. Before she could argue or get upset with

him, he walked down to his study and sat at his desk. He turned on his desk lamp and his

computer.

Ian dead. In truth, it was not completely a shock, at least not intellectually. Ian had

always been a risk taker. Joe had long worried that Ian would go too far too fast

sometime – a car crash, a parachute accident, skiing on a black diamond course, or any

number of reckless activities that Ian routinely undertook. But murdered? He could see

Ian getting in fights, but he’d always figured that Ian had enough sense to get himself out

of real trouble. He could charm his way out of a snake pit if he had to. Or so Joe had

thought.

Joe pulled up flight schedules on his computer and picked his earliest options. He

followed that up with hotel and car reservations as well. He was used to traveling and

knew what he wanted, so it took less than twenty minutes to take care of the

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arrangements. He knew he should go back to bed and get some sleep, but he found

himself unable to. He was too wired. He walked over to a cabinet and retrieved a photo

album with pictures from his youth. His father was not a sentimental man, but his mom

had fought a constant guerilla war about documenting their travels and adventures. His

father had forced her to keep the memorabilia to a minimum, to expedite their frequent

moves, and when they had finally retired to the San Diego area one of his conditions was

getting rid of old photo albums. Ian had shown no interest in them, but Joe had quickly

snapped them up. He loved collecting photos of his own two kids, and had put these next

to his own family’s. Until now, though, he hadn’t really had the occasion to look through

them in any depth.

Like most people, Joe had an unconscious Ptolemaic view of the universe, with himself

and his own family firmly in the center of the universe. His parents were the sun to his

Earth, shining warmly on him from a distance, but his brother was the moon, revolving in

his shadow. People take the moon for granted, aware that it is there but not really

thinking much about it or what life on earth would be like without it -- life without tides,

without full moons, without that constant silver companion. That was Ian to Joe. He

added light and variety to Joe’s world, constantly tugging at him in ways that Joe never

had to think about or appreciate. Now his worldview was going to have to change, and

his world would be a less complete place.

He must have spent an hour or so leafing through his childhood, seeing Ian and himself

grow up. Many of the pictures of Ian’s life were of times he had not been part of, during

the years after he had gone away to college and the rest of his life. Ian had been a cute

kid, he had to admit, growing from a sweet little troublemaker to a teenager who liked to

take his own route. He eschewed being a jock or a brain in high school, then was a

lacrosse All-America in college and graduated summa cum laude. Go figure, Joe thought

ruefully. Ian was just his own man. And somehow someone had murdered him for it.

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Debbie came into his study around two-thirty in the morning. He had finished going

through the albums and was just sitting there on the sofa thinking. “What are you doing,

honey?” she asked softly. She sat next to him and put her head on his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he told her absently. “Just thinking.”

“I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you,” she murmured. “I can’t believe

Ian is dead.”

“I should have been there for him,” Joe said, more to himself than to Debbie.

“You couldn’t have known, dear. He lived his own life. You can’t stop all the tragedies

in the world, not even in your own family.”

“I should have been there for him,” Joe repeated stubbornly, his head down.

Joe remembered when he had first understood that life as an only child was going to

change. His father had sat him down to tell him the facts of his new family situation.

“You’re going to get mad at him sometimes,” his father had warned him solemnly. “He’s

going to be a lot younger than you, so he won’t know as much and he’ll do stupid

things.” Joe didn’t know if his father already knew it was going to be a boy, or if his

father had somehow willed it to be so. The thought of his father trying to cope with a

daughter made him smile, although his father loved his granddaughter immensely – from

a distance. “The thing is, he’s your younger brother and it’s up to you to teach him

things, and to take care of him. Understand?”

Joe had done his best, but Ian had always had an independent spirit. By the time he was a

teenager there was no telling him anything. Still, Joe had never gotten over his sense of

obligation to his younger brother, and it wore heavily on him now. He had gotten used to

being a brother, and that was something that would never be true again.

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They sat there in silence for a while. Joe was not someone who showed his feelings very

much. There were people who had known him for twenty years who would have said

they’d never seen him angry. The few people he didn’t like probably didn’t have any

idea of that fact. People enjoyed working with him because he was always so cool and

calm, never getting flustered or upset, and he always got the job done. His most visible

feelings came out through his family, whether it was the broad smile that erupted when

he saw his kids or the big hugs he often wrapped around his wife. They had no doubts he

loved them. He hadn’t been so open with his brother, but Joe realized now that he had

loved Ian just as much, if in a different way. Now he’d never get to show that, and it

suddenly saddened him immensely.

“Come to bed,” Debbie urged him at last, pulling on his t-shirt.

He wanted to. He wanted to go to bed with this beautiful woman that he had been

married to forever. He wanted to forget this new nightmare and go back to dreaming of

sunny beaches and pretty women in swimsuits. He wanted his normal life back, with its

predictable rhythms and manageable crises, worries that seemed almost laughable by

comparison. He wanted to go kiss his kids on the forehead, just to see them sleep and

know they were safe. But that wasn’t going to happen. “I’d just have to get up in a

couple hours,” he said. “I’ll stay up for a bit more. Why don’t you go back to bed and

try to sleep?”

She lifted her head a looked at him. “If you’re staying here, I am too,” she said firmly.

“I’ll just curl up on the sofa next to you and be with you while I can. You’re going there

in the morning?”

Joe nodded without looking at her. Part of him wanted to stay home and be with his

family. He hated the thought of Debbie having to try to explain the news about their

uncle to his kids, and he hated that they’d have to come out alone for the funeral. But

none of that mattered, not anymore.

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“What will you do there?” Debbie asked, easing herself into a recumbent position and

already starting to look sleepy.

“Whatever needs to be done,” Joe declared.

Chapter 30

Joe arrived in late morning. He’d managed a couple hours of restless sleep on the plane,

but was pretty much operating on adrenaline at this point. He found his way to the police

headquarters without too much trouble. It was an older building that had been renovated

to put a new face on it. They’d succeeded it in giving a facelift, but inside there was still

the accumulated bad karma of too many lives gone the wrong way and too much

frustration on the part of people trying to do something about it. The atmosphere was

thick enough to cut and everyone only had dull spoons with which to try. He asked

around and was subsequently shuffled around until he ended up at the desks of Detectives

Kincaid and Reilly.

Detective Kincaid was an attractive young African-American woman. She was tall,

perhaps five ten or eleven, with dark brown skin and a firm body that probably served her

as well in the bars as in the gym. Reilly, on the other hand, had a small paunch, and was

easily twenty years older, with short grey hair and a face that said he had seen it all and

was tired of it. He looked like he was constantly annoyed at the world. Joe introduced

himself and shook their hands.

“I’m sorry about your loss, Mr. Russell,” Detective Kincaid told him with evident

sincerity. Detective Reilly nodded in agreement, but did not appear all that moved. They

took Joe to an interview room for some privacy, and got him a cup of bad coffee. Both of

them carried their own well-worn mugs.

“So what happened?” Joe asked.

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Kincaid answered. “Your brother didn’t show up for his softball game, but no one

thought too much about it until he didn’t come to work the next day either. His boss--”

“Hank Meyers?” Joe interrupted.

She nodded. “Anyway, he checked your brother’s activity log on his computer and had

someone go out to an abandoned warehouse that he’d pulled up most recently. The poor

guy found Joe’s body and called 911.”

“What about his car?’

“Wasn’t there,” Reilly said curtly.

“Either he didn’t drive to the warehouse or whoever killed him took the car,” Kincaid

added. “Why?”

“Just wondering. So how was he killed?”

Kincaid took a deep breath and looked over at Reilly for encouragement. He shrugged

and looked away. Kincaid looked at Joe with sympathetic eyes, and he noticed how soft

and warm they were, despite the tough exterior. “I don’t mean to upset you further, Mr.

Russell. How much do you want to know?”

“Tell me.”

“It’s bad. You might sleep better not knowing.”

“Tell me,” Joe repeated firmly.

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She took a deep breath. “Someone – and we think it was several people – beat him

almost to death. There were bruises and broken bones consistent with kicks and some

kind of club – maybe something like baseball bats.”

Joe had been listening intently. “You said ‘almost to death.’ That’s not what killed

him?”

“He probably would have died from his injuries,” Reilly interjected. “He had massive

internal injuries.”

Joe locked eyes with him. “But that’s not what killed him?” Reilly stared at him with his

cold cop eyes, and Joe couldn’t help but contrast them with Detective Kincaid’s warmer

eyes. Neither of them looked away until Reilly shook his head slightly to indicate no.

“So what did?” He looked over at Kincaid.

“He bled to death.”

“Bled to death? What, was he stabbed?”

Both detectives shook their head but did not answer. “Did he bleed to death from his

internal injuries?” Joe asked.

Kincaid licked her lips. “No. They, umm…” She was unable to continue.

“They castrated him and let him bleed to death,” Reilly said with a curious lack of

emotion, except maybe to sound slightly awed by the audacity of it. Kincaid looked

away.

“Good God,” Joe exclaimed quietly. “Who were these people?”

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“We don’t know,” Reilly said. “We don’t think this was anything random. Either they

knew him or they were flat out psychotic.”

“Sounds pretty psychotic to me any way you look at it,” Joe muttered. “I don’t think

he’d go off to some deserted warehouse with a bunch of random nuts. He’d have forced

the issue before then. He had to know them.”

“Maybe,” Reilly said, not convinced.

“So how are you investigating?”

“We’re interviewing people who might have seen him that evening, and we’ll check up

on anyone with any grudges, see if we can find the car,” Kincaid said.

“We’ll want to talk to you, see what you know too,” Reilly said. For once, his eyes

seemed to come alive.

“Me? What would I know?”

“You probably know more than you think, Mr. Russell,” Kincaid said soothingly. “Who

his friends were, what his patterns were -- things like that.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Joe said, looking at them incredulously. “We lived two thousand

miles apart, and only saw each other a few times a year. I don’t know what I can tell you

that will be helpful.”

“Maybe.” Reilly sounded unconvinced. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“We talked on, let’s see, it would have been Monday afternoon.” It only struck Joe then

that the short telephone conversation would be the last time he got to talk to his brother,

and that fact struck him as unbearably poignant. He tried to recall the conversation and

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wished they had gotten the chance to talk longer or about deeper subjects. He sighed

under his breath.

The two detectives exchanged glances. “How did he sound to you?” Kincaid asked.

Joe tried to conjure up not just the details but also the underlying mood. “He sounded

about the same as usual,” Joe said carefully. “On his way somewhere else.”

“Where was that?” Reilly asked.

“A softball game. He’d been out of town over the weekend, in Florida.”

“With whom?” Kincaid inquired.

Joe shrugged. “He didn’t say. I assumed it was a woman.”

“Did he have a girlfriend?”

Again Joe shrugged. “Ian went through women too fast for me to keep track, not that he

really kept me informed on the subject.”

They collected some basic information from him, including his name and occupation, his

parents’ names and locations, and some minor details about Ian’s life – most of which he

couldn’t answer. Beyond Ian’s address and job, and a few friends that Ian had mentioned

along the way, he felt chagrined at the things he could not tell these investigators trying

to solve his brother’s death.

Kincaid cleared her throat. “Mr. Russell, do you want to see the body?”

Joe looked at her in surprise. “I mean, don’t I have to? To identify the body or

something?”

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Reilly shook his head. “We ID’ed it from fingerprints. He had to be fingerprinted with

his real estate license.”

“You may not want to see the body. It’s in pretty bad shape.” Kincaid seemed uneasy

about the prospect of him looking at it. Joe shook his head. “Yes, I want to see it. I need

to know.”

Kincaid and Reilly looked at each other, and seemed to silently agree. They got up and

indicated he should come with them.

The morgue was in the basement. It was cool and dark, despite being brightly lit. Too

much death, too much sadness. Despite the surroundings, the coroner who met them was

a young Asian woman who seemed oddly cheerful. She suppressed her smile when she

was introduced to Joe. “Mr. Russell, I’m sorry about your brother. Have the detectives

told you that we have already identified the body?”

Joe nodded.

She continued. “Any, umm, have they indicated that, well, you may not want to see the

body? We’re just getting ready for the autopsy, and – frankly speaking – it’s not a pretty

sight.”

“I understand.”

The coroner glanced at the detectives and sighed. “You can view the body on the video

screen, in a private room. Many people find that less painful in situations like this.”

Joe was unmoved. “I’d like to be with my brother.”

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Shrugging, she gestured that Joe should follow her, and led them back to an examining

room. “Do you want some privacy?”

“If you don’t mind,” Joe replied politely, his attention already focused on the corpse that

was on the table.

Ian’s body lay naked on a metal table in the middle of the room. There were drains

around the table; Joe assumed it was to help carry off unwanted fluid from the autopsies.

From even a quick glance, he could see the extent of the damage. Ian’s face was virtually

unrecognizable. His entire body showed extensive bruising and abrasions, and his arms

and legs bent in ways that normal bones did not permit. Most appalling was the absence

of Joe’s genitalia, making him look for all the world like some sort of sexless manikin

that had been cruelly damaged.

Joe stood away from the body for several seconds, taking in the sight. He glanced over at

the window to the room, and saw the detectives and the coroner look away quickly. He

wished he had pulled the shades. He turned back to Ian’s body. Ian had been such a

good-looking guy, in the prime of youth. This, this thing didn’t seem connected to what

he remembered of his brother. He slowly approached the table, and cautiously put a hand

out to touch Ian’s arm. “Oh, Ian. What did they do to you?” He spoke so softly that he

might have not been speaking aloud at all. Loud or soft, it didn’t really matter; Ian was

never going to hear him. Not today and not ever, unless in some sort of afterlife that Joe

found hard to bank on at the moment.

Ian’s body felt cold and stiff to Joe’s touch. He kept his hand on Ian for a few seconds,

connecting to what used to be Ian for perhaps the last time. There certainly was not

going to be an open casket for the service. He felt such an aching pain for his loss, for his

brother’s loss, that he didn’t know what to do with it. It threatened to overwhelm him.

His eyes teared up but he did not cry; he could not cry.

After awhile it was time to go. He had things to do.

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Chapter 31

“So what do we know about the brother?” Jazy asked Walker. They were in Jazy’s study

-- Jazy, Walker and Gaines. Jazy was behind his desk, while Walker was seated in the

visitor’s chair across the desk. Gaines was standing a few feet away, spinning the globe

idly and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Walker grinned, and held up a manila folder. “You’ll love this. He’s an accountant.”

Jazy raised an eyebrow. “An accountant?”

“Yeah, a fucking accountant. He’s been one for several years, is a big shot or something

in his company. Lives in Philly, out in the suburbs.”

“Married?”

Walker’s eyes flashed and he laughed. “Married. Two kids. The guy drives a freaking

minivan, coaches his daughter’s soccer games. I’m telling you, the guy is a weenie.”

“So what was it that Mr. Russell trying to warn us about regarding this brother of his?”

Jazy asked himself aloud.

Walker leaned forward. “He was out of it by then. I think he must have flashed back to

when he was a kid or something. He would have threatened us with the Easter Bunny if

he’d thought of it.”

“Maybe.” Jazy didn’t seem too convinced.

Walker played his trump card. “I didn’t tell you the best part.”

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Gaines looked up. “It gets better? What, is he crippled or something?”

Walker shot him a look, then turned back to Jazy. He put his hands on Jazy’s desk. “The

guy is a Quaker. An honest-to-goodness, turn-the-other-cheek Quaker.” He had a

triumphant expression on his face.

Jazy raised his eyebrows. “A Quaker?”

“You don’t run in to those very day,” Gaines allowed with a straight face, showing some

interest for the first time.

“So, nah, I think we’re safe from the brother,” Walker concluded. He smugly ignored

Gaines, for once feeling that he had the last word.

“Perhaps,” Jazy said. He turned his attention to Gaines. “What about the investigation?”

“We’re covered.” Gaines seemed eminently unconcerned.

“Please elaborate.”

“The police found the body sooner than we expected, but it makes no difference. They

have no clues to lead them to us, and they’ll find a few that will keep them distracted

until they lose interest.”

Jazy made a steeple with his fingers. “What clues?”

Gaines came over to the desk and plopped down in the second visitor’s chair. He ignored

Walker. “Well, they’ll be looking for the drug connection, of course.”

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Walker gave him a scornful look. “Why the hell would they do that? Russell wasn’t into

drugs…was he?”

Gaines stopped his exposition to look over at Walker, as if he was surprised to find him

sitting there. Or perhaps surprised to find him capable of speech. He turned back to Jazy.

“Well, their forensics unit will be quite pleased to find traces of cocaine on Russell’s

body.”

“Indeed?”

“I took the liberty of rubbing a kilo over his clothes and hands before we left. There will

be enough to raises some questions, and they’ll want to look for answers to those

questions.” Gaines pretended to look modest at his forethought.

Jazy pursed his lips. “Which they will not find. They will talk to his friends and not find

any supporting evidence of any drug involvement.”

Gaines smiled and stood up. “That may be, but we’ll have wasted several days by then,

and their case load will start to grow.”

“A murder like this is already attracting lots of attention,” Walker interrupted. “It’s not

like some junkie on the street that they can just forget about.”

Gaines was back at the globe, and spun it. “Well, when they find his drug hideaway

they’ll be more convinced they’re on the right track.” He stopped the globe at North

America and pretended to find something of interest in the Great Lakes. “Huh, look at

that.”

Jazy and Walker exchanged glances. “What drug hideaway?”

Gaines smiled slyly. “Why, the apartment that Ms. Wilde used.”

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“How will they connect that with Russell?” Jazy asked.

“How will they find the apartment in the first place?” Walker added.

“For one thing, it turns out that it was rented by Mr. Russell, or so it would appear by the

signature on the agreement,” Gaines said. “For another, if they look real hard – well, if

they look at all – they’ll find a small bag with fifty thousand in cash and that same kilo of

cocaine. I rather suspect that they’ll find some of Russell’s fingerprints on both.”

“Yeah, a lot of good that does, since the only ones who know about the apartment are us

and that girl, and we don’t want her talking,” Walker told Gaines.

Gaines looked surprised. He looked at Walker sadly. “Well, Henry, we’re lucky that

there are some good citizens out there, one of whom is quite likely to call in an

anonymous tip about their little love nest.”

“And Ms. – what was it?” Jazy wanted to know.

“Wilde.”

“And what about Ms. Wilde?”

Gaines spun the globe and watched it revolve frantically. “She’s shown good sense about

not running her mouth to date. I think her would-be boyfriend’s death will convince her

of the soundness of that strategy.”

Jazy smiled broadly. “Well, done, Carl. So you got our money back from Sokov?”

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“He wasn’t happy about it, but let’s say he was persuaded we deserved it more than he

did. If we don’t need to use the apartment to throw the police off track, we can always

get it back.”

Jazy waved a hand. “A small price to pay.” He thought for a moment and a concerned

expression on his face. “Weren’t there --”

“I removed the cameras,” Gaines interrupted before Jazy could finish. They grinned

broadly at each other. Ashley Wilde had been unaware of the cameras in the apartment.

They had failed in their intended role of capturing any indiscretions on Ian Russell’s part,

but had still provided numerous very entertaining views of her to Gaines and Jazy.

“What if the police still aren’t persuaded?” Walker said. He was unhappy that his good

news about Russell’s brother had been topped by Gaines’ planning. “They’re not stupid.

They still don’t have any witnesses.”

Gaines’ face took on an expression of mock horror, which transformed into just mocking.

“Well, then, I suppose we better have a witness then. It just so happens that there’s a

mid-level dealer who is quite happy to roll over on one of his competition. He’ll do a

little time, maybe, but at that point everyone will be convinced it was about drugs that

they’ll never get it straight. I guarantee you – we’re covered.”

Chapter 32

As it turned out, the detectives weren’t quite done with Joe after the morgue. They told

him there were a few more things they needed to go over with him, and took him back to

the interview room. They gave him the keys to Ian’s townhouse and told him he could go

there, but warned him not to remove anything. They discussed when he could pick up the

body, and gave him a few suggestions for on funeral homes that would be good under

these extreme circumstances. Joe thought they were waiting for something, stalling for

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time for some reason, but couldn’t figure out what. At last, they paused for a second and

exchanged a brief glance. They had not been partners for long but each had been cops

long enough to know how the game was played.

Most people might have missed that glance or its significance, but Joe was a guy who

paid attention to details. He knew there was something else, something that they had

been waiting to tell him, and he figured it must be bad for them to save up like this. He

had a hard time thinking what worse news they could have, but began preparing himself.

Kincaid leaned in towards him, her eyes sympathetic. “Mr. Russell, what can you tell us

about the drugs?”

Joe’s head rocked back just slightly. “Excuse me?”

“There were traces of cocaine in the warehouse where he was found,” Reilly said.

“Especially on your brother’s clothes and hands.”

“Did your brother have a drug problem?” Kincaid asked.

“Did your brother deal drugs, maybe to his friends?” Reilly added.

Joe sat quietly, not reacting. He looked at each of them in turn. “Let me get this straight.

You think my brother was involved in drugs and that’s what got him killed?”

The detectives nodded. “That’s a strong lead we have to follow up,” Kincaid said. She

also noticed that Mr. Russell was unusually calm. She never got used to talking to

victim’s families, and this was a particularly tough case. She’d had a hard time seeing

the body, and it wasn’t even anyone she’d known. If it had been her brother, she didn’t

think she’d do as well as the man in front of her was. He had a resolve about him that

was clearly visible, as if seeing his brother had hurt but not crushed him, but, rather, had

only made him harder in the process.

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“That’s nuts!” Joe’s face showed his disbelief.

“I thought you said you didn’t see much of your brother,” Reilly said flatly. “How would

you know if your brother was into drugs?”

It was a good question, Joe thought, and did not immediately respond. Was it possible

that the little kid he used to know had gotten involved in drugs?

“From what we’ve already learned about your brother, he liked to have a good time,”

Kincaid noted with an almost apologetic tone. She leaned in a bit further. “You know,

hang out in clubs, where drugs often aren’t too hard to find.”

Joe looked at her, thinking. “So, were there drugs in his system?”

Kincaid shifted in her seat, and too obviously didn’t look over at her partner. “No,” she

admitted. It was a good question, further evidencing that Russell had his wits about him.

Joe looked over at Reilly. “What about his apartment or office, or his other clothes? Any

other signs of drugs?”

Reilly’s eyes were cold. “The results haven’t come back yet.”

“It’s the most logical avenue of investigation,” Kincaid offered. “It would account for

why he was in a deserted warehouse and why he was dealing with the kind of people who

would do something like this to him.”

Joe nodded, despite himself. It was a logical avenue of investigation, and if he were them

he’d follow it himself. The thing was, he wasn’t them, and they were talking about his

kid brother. “I can tell you now – it wasn’t anything to do with drugs. What other leads

do you have?”

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The two detectives looked at each other. “Well,” Reilly started, but did not continue.

Kincaid picked up the slack. “To tell the truth, we don’t have any other good leads yet,

but we’re still talking to his friends and coworkers to figure out if anyone else has any

other reasons to want him dead.”

Reilly glared at her, and it was clear that he wasn’t too happy that she’d shared their lack

of progress with him. Joe focused on Kincaid. “Something like this – it would seem to

me that this was someone who knew him. There was a lot of anger in how they killed

him.”

“What are you, Sherlock fucking Holmes?” Reilly interjected.

Joe shot him a quick look. “I’m just saying, why were they so worked up? Why the

castration? That’s making it personal.”

“I’ll say,” Reilly muttered.

“Money or women,” Kincaid offered. “Ninety percent of murders have something to do

with one of those. The drugs would fall into the money category. If some other dealer

thought he was carving into their territory, they might have wanted to make a statement.”

“What about women? I may not know a lot of what Ian was up to, but I do know he

dated a lot. He went away last weekend with someone. Maybe there was a jealous

boyfriend.”

“Maybe,” Kincaid said, unconvinced, but she wanted to check the credit card receipts to

see if she could figure out whom his brother had been with.

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“Maybe he was screwing some dealer’s wife,” Reilly said sarcastically. “That’d make

everyone happy.”

Kincaid gave her partner a scornful look that made Joe think there was no love lost

between the two. “Fred…”

Reilly held up his hands innocently. “I’m just speculating here, since Mr. Russell wanted

us to explore other options.”

Kincaid turned away and gave Joe an apologetic shrug, as if to say, hey, look what I have

to put up with everyday. It made him like her even more.

“Bottom line, Mr. Russell, we’ll investigate where the evidence leads us,” Reilly said

with that cold stare of his. “You may not like where that goes, but we can’t help that.

You don’t always know people as well as you think you do, and you yourself admitted

you weren’t that close to your brother.”

“I said we lived far apart,” Joe said calmly. “I didn’t say we weren’t close.”

“That may be so,” Kincaid said. “But you better be prepared to find out things about you

brother that you didn’t know and wouldn’t have guessed.”

Chapter 33

Joe was busy over the next few days. The hardest thing he had to do was to call his

parents. He had put it off until he was absolutely sure that it was Ian, that there hadn’t

been some sort of terrible mistake. Well, there had been a terrible mistake, but Ian

definitely had been the victim of it. He checked into his hotel and called his parents.

“Joe,” his mom said in surprise. “What a nice surprise.”

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Joe wanted to not have to tell her, not to have to ruin her day and the rest of her life, but

he couldn’t avoid it any longer. “Mom, could you get dad? I’m afraid I have some bad

news for you both.”

Many people would have reacted to that with tears or demands for the news immediately,

but not his mother. He heard her catch her breath and force herself to maintain her

composure. “All right,” she said calmly. “I’ll go get him.”

They both got on the phone a couple of minutes later. He could only imagine what was

going through their minds, and he hated being the bearer of these particular bad tidings.

His father, as usual, took control of the situation in his gruff manner. “What is it, son?

Something with the kids?”

Joe could tell that they still didn’t have a grasp on the magnitude of the situation. They

were thinking, or perhaps blindly hoping, that this was one of life’s more ordinary crises.

Maybe one of his kids had broken a leg or gotten into trouble at school. Some situation

where everyone could reassure themselves that it was all right and that things would go

back to normal. Well, this wasn’t all right and things would never go back to normal for

any of them. Oh, their lives would resume and life might take on their familiar routines,

but it would never be normal again – or, at least, never the same again. “Mom, dad, it’s

about Ian.”

He heard his mother’s breath catch as she gasped. His father had steeled himself. “What

about Ian?”

“He’s dead.”

He heard and could imagine the scene on the other end of the phone. Part of him wished

he could be there to be with them and part of him was glad he was safe on this end of the

phone so he didn’t have to witness the shock they were feeling. His mother let out an

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anguished scream and his father went stonily silent. Joe let their reactions settle a little

before he made things worse. “It’s worse than that,” he told them. “He was murdered.”

“Murdered?” his mother repeated incredulously.

“What happened?” his father asked in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, one that Joe had

heard before. This was his father’s command decision voice, the one he used when his

men’s lives were at stake and everything counted on him staying in control. Joe thought

this was not an inappropriate time for that.

Joe told them what he knew, omitting the part about the drugs. He felt guilty about the

omission, but they had enough bad news. Joe figured they didn’t need that particular fact

or supposed fact quite yet. They talked about the funeral arrangements, although there

wasn’t much any of them could say about them yet. Joe told them he’d take care of the

details and would let them know as soon as he knew when they needed to come out. The

call mercifully ended soon after that, but he was haunted by the thought of what they

must be thinking and feeling.

He also called Debbie to bring her up to date. She’d broken the news to the kids and kept

them out of school, but they really didn’t understand. She put them on the phone and

they were touchingly concerned for how he was doing. He told them he was sad but

doing all right, and told them that he wanted them to take care of their mother for him

while he was away.

There was a lot to do. He drove to Ian’s. He’d never actually been to Ian’s townhouse,

so it took him a couple wrong turns before he found it. He sat outside for a few minutes

before going in. It felt wrong to go there without Ian, but it had to be done. He went

inside and wandered around to familiarize himself with the layout. There were ghosts

here, in the metaphorical sense if not the metaphysical sense. He remembered when his

maternal grandmother died, he, Ian and their mother went to clean out her sprawling

house. He’d been in his mid-teens then, and they’d spent three days going through his

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grandmother’s things. In the old photos and letters he found a woman he hadn’t known, a

young woman full of life and love. He could see how that beautiful young woman had

grown into the colorful grandmother he’d loved, but he would not have guessed at that

origin. He was young enough to foolishly believe older generations had always been as

they now were. He enjoyed learning about this interesting other person.

Joe thought it felt wrong for him to be in that position now. Ian’s children or

grandchildren should be the ones doing something like this, decades from now and after

Ian had a chance to grow into the person he had yet to become. Now there would never

be that chance. He wandered around, looking at what Ian had in his house – the kind of

furniture, the art, the CDs and DVDs, the books. Ian hadn’t been much of a reader but

the books he had collected were more serious than Joe would have guessed – mostly

history or biographies. Joe had thought that Ian would have had Playboys or Sports

Illustrated around the house not these kinds of books. Well, he had graduated magna

cum laude from Cornell, so it wasn’t like he was a dummy.

The most personal belongings were some photos, including the ones of his own kids on

the refrigerator door. It struck him that, aside from his own kids, he didn’t recognize any

of the people in the other photos. Even the photos of Ian on various trips weren’t all of

places that Joe had known he had gone to. Joe supposed Ian wouldn’t have recognized

his vacation photos either.

He was touched and taken aback at the picture of him and Ian camping out as kids,

displayed in Ian’s study. They were both so young, so innocent, and so full of life -- so

clearly unaware of the terrible tragedy that lay ahead. Frankly, he wasn’t sure that his

existence had mattered to Ian any more, and finding this picture reassured him that the

Ian he remembered was the Ian who lived here.

In any event, wrong or not, there was work to be done. Ian had not been not the most

meticulous of record keepers, but Joe managed to locate where he had kept his personal

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and financial papers. With a little judicious hacking, he got into Ian’s PC so he could

look at Ian’s Quicken records, email, and anything else he had on the PC.

It was like picking up pieces of a puzzle with no clear idea of what the final puzzle was

supposed to look like, and Ian hadn’t helped matters by his haphazard approach to filing.

He pretty much threw most of his bills and other written correspondence into a big pile.

Joe was undaunted. He sorted out bigger messes every day of the week at work, and was

very, very good at it.

Within a few hours of hard work he’d worked out Ian’s basic financial picture. Ian

earned a better living than Joe might have guessed, but there were no unusual income

sources. At first he’d been concerned by the large deposits of fluctuating amounts, but he

was able to track each of them back to specific checks from Meyers Development and

further to the corresponding deals that had generated them. Ian’s expenses similarly

contained few surprises. Ian had spent freely and saved less than Joe would have

recommended, but his spending had been pretty predictable – entertainment, electronic

toys like his sound system and wide screen TV, his car, and the various other things that

men his age tended to spend their disposable income on. Joe supposed it was possible

that some of his weekly cash outlays were going to buy drugs, but he did not view that as

the most likely option.

Joe was less successful in finding a will or other evidence of pre-planning for death,

which did not surprise him. He found nothing that would suggest Ian had ever consulted

an attorney about a will or anything else, or that he’d had a safety deposit box that might

store important papers. He double checked against all Joe’s bank records to see if there

were any charges associated with such a box, and again came up empty.

He thought about how he would start notifying Ian’s friends. Aside from a few high

school or college friends that Ian had introduced him to along the way, as well as a

couple long-discarded girlfriends, Joe knew very little about the people in Ian’s life. He

went through Ian’s telephone bills to note phone numbers, comparing them against the

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address book in Ian’s Handspring. He noted the frequency of calls, using that as a proxy

for how close he was to the various callers. He did the same with emails, and came up

with a list of people Joe felt would be interested in knowing about Ian’s death, ordered in

an estimate of their degree of closeness to Ian. There were several phone numbers that he

couldn’t identify or associate with anyone, and he put those aside for future reference.

Around eight Joe decided he was hungry, or perhaps more restless than anything else.

He’d been working all afternoon in the townhouse and needed to get out, so he took a

walk and found a small restaurant nearby, stopping to buy a local paper on the way. The

restaurant was not very crowded, but seemed like a comfortable place. He settled into a

small booth and ordered a beer. After a quick look at the menu, he ordered a burger and

fries.

His waitress was a pretty young girl in her mid-twenties, with short brown hair and an

easy smile. He supposed she was cute and wondered what Ian might have thought about

her. She saw him looking at the paper after he ordered. “Oh, isn’t it terrible?” she

exclaimed, pointing to the article he was staring at.

Joe suddenly realized that telling Ian’s friends about his death was not going to be a

problem. The story of Ian’s death was splashed on the front page. Joe hadn’t had the

television or radio on all day, so he’d missed the local news. He suspected the gruesome

story was receiving similar, if not more lurid, treatment as it was on the front page of the

paper. Word was going to get out more quickly than he could hope to do himself. It

undoubtedly had already begun to spread. He remembered with a start that the waitress

had spoken to him and looked up from the headline. “Yes, it is certainly is,” he agreed

absently. He didn’t look up at her, but suddenly she sat down across from him.

“Crazy, isn’t it? Why would anyone do that, especially to someone like Ian?”

Joe looked at her. “You knew him?” He felt like a dullard, not fully re-engaged in social

contact, especially not about his brother. He imagined he was going to have to get used

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to it, as he was going to be doing a lot of it over the coming days. He put the paper

down.

Fortunately, the waitress – Annie, if her nametag was to be believed – didn’t seem to

mind his awkwardness. She looked at him sympathetically. “Sure. He used to come in

here, you know.”

That got Joe’s attention. “He did?”

“Sure. I served him lots of times. If it was slow and he wasn’t with anyone I sometimes

sat and talked with him like this. Of course, not that he was alone very much. He had

lots of friends.”

“You mean girlfriends.”

“Well, yeah, he had lots of girlfriends but he had lots of friends period. He’d sometimes

come in with groups of people too. He was a fun guy. I kept hoping he’d ask me out but

he never did.”

Joe smiled at her. He wanted to tell her that it probably wasn’t anything personal, that

Ian just hadn’t gotten around to her yet. She noticed his friendly smile and perked up.

“Are you from around here? Most of our customers are regulars and I sure don’t

remember you.”

Joe was not very interested in where this conversation was going to go but he didn’t want

to be rude. “No, I’m not from around here.”

“Visiting?”

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“You could say that,” Joe said, hoping that would end the conversation. The waitress

continued to sit there and look expectantly at him, until he felt compelled to elaborate.

“My brother used to live around here.”

It was perhaps not the wisest thing to say, and he immediately regretted saying it. “Used

to?” she asked with raised eyebrows. He nodded glumly.

“Did he move?” she asked innocently.

Joe was tempted to let the moment just pass and politely dodge the question, but

somehow he didn’t want to. He had had his fill of bad news today, and had been buried

in details of Ian’s life all afternoon. Perhaps the prospect of some company and a

sympathetic ear was more powerful than he realized. “No, he died,” Joe said softly. He

tapped the newspaper. “Ian was my brother.”

The waitress took a moment for Joe’s words to sink then, then she gasped and put a hand

to her face. “Oh, my God!” They stayed like that for an uncomfortable second or two,

but finally she lowered her hand from her mouth. “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” It sounded lame but Joe didn’t really know what else to say. She was only

the, what, fourth person he’d talked to about Ian’s death and already he was at a loss for

how to respond intelligently.

“I feel like an idiot, telling you about your brother and all. I’d have never…”

“It’s quite all right. I needed the company.”

She looked over at the counter and stood up. “Look, your burger is ready. I’ll get it for

you.” She went over and got his burger, then brought it to him. “I’ll let you get back to

your paper. I’m really sorry about your brother. He was a great guy. Hey, what’s your

name?”

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“Joe.”

She smiled and left him to his meal. He ate slowly as he read through the paper carefully.

There weren’t any details that he hadn’t heard, and the cocaine traces hadn’t yet been

reported. He knew it was only a matter of time before that particular finding was

released and his brother would be in the news again. When he was done eating he

motioned for Annie to bring his bill. On the spur of the moment, he decided to test

something. “Annie, you saw Ian a lot. Tell me: did you ever seen him on drugs?”

“Drugs?” She seemed baffled.

“You know, recreational drugs.”

“Oh, yeah, I know all about recreational drugs. What a funny thing to ask about.”

“Humor me.”

She didn’t even have to think about her response. “No, I can’t say that I did.”

“You can tell me the truth. I just want to know.”

“No, I really can say that I didn’t ever see him high,” she said earnestly. “He was always

in a good mood, with that big smile of his. If he was high then he was high all the time.

It seemed like he always felt the way people take drugs to feel like, you know what I

mean? Your brother was a sweetheart.”

“Yes, he was.” She started to walk away, but Joe stopped her. “Annie?”

She looked at him tentatively. “Yes?”

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“I’m sure Ian would have wanted to ask you out.”

She seemed to preen unconsciously. “Do you really think so?”

Joe nodded, and Annie walked away, if not on cloud nine then floating pleasantly

somewhere in the atmosphere. So the day hadn’t been a total loss, Joe thought sadly. He

paid the bill and left her a big tip, then went back to the hotel to call Debbie. He had had

enough of old memories for the night and wanted to end his evening talking to the

woman he loved.

Chapter 34

The next day Joe started making the various necessary arrangements. He contacted a

probate lawyer and a funeral home, and started calling Ian’s credit card companies,

banks, and other financial institutions. The funeral home was very helpful, telling him

they’d take care of the body and set up the service. Neither Ian nor their parents were

particularly religious, but Joe agreed to a small service with a minister the funeral home

recommended. They also promised to take care of the obituary. With their assistance,

Joe picked out a cemetery lot on a big hill, with a nice view of the surrounding

mountains, but avoided their subtle pressure to buy a more expensive casket.

He also made calls to a few of Ian’s friends who lived out of town, on the assumption that

they wouldn’t have seen the news. Most people were at work, of course, when he

couldn’t reach them directly he left a number instead of letting them find out the news on

voice mail. The people he did contact were all shocked, of course, and deeply surprised.

They mumbled their ineloquent words of grief and Joe mumbled his equally ineloquent

words of appreciation. Several promised to try to make it out for the funeral.

In the afternoon he went to Meyers Development and met Hank Meyers. Meyers was

one of the few people Ian had talked about. He hadn’t been one for praising people, but it

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had been pretty clear to Joe that Ian had not only enjoyed working with Meyers but also

felt he had something to learn from the older man. For Ian, that was pretty rare praise;

usually he seemed as though no one had anything to teach him; he preferred to make his

own mistakes in learning his own lessons. Joe wanted to see for himself what kind of

man had made such an impression on Ian, perhaps had steered him towards what could

have been a promising career. Unfortunately, he wasn’t catching Meyers on a good day.

He looked as if he hadn’t slept since hearing the news about Ian. Ian had described him

as having a great personality, but the man Joe met seemed much reduced. They shook

hands and exchanged sympathies.

Meyers seemed genuinely touched. “I thought of him almost as a son,” he told Joe

quietly. Joe didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just thanked him. They chatted

for a few minutes, the kind of pleasantries people exchanged in these kinds of situations.

“He was so happy on Monday morning,” Hank told Joe.

“Why?”

Hank shrugged. “He’d been away with some woman. He really liked her, he said. He

said he might even love her, if you can believe that.”

“When I talked to him later in the day he told me he’d been to Florida, but didn’t tell me

who he was with. Did you know her?”

Hank shook his head. “No, I made a point to not get too involved in Ian’s romances,” he

said with a wry smile. “You probably know this, but your brother was quite the ladies

man.”

“I got that idea,” Joe agreed with a smile.

“Still,” Hank noted. “There seemed to be something different about this one.”

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“How so?” Joe wasn’t sure if this was important to Joe’s murder, or was simply ironic

that Joe might finally have started to get serious about a woman just before his untimely

death.

“I don’t know,” Hank said. He thought for a moment. “There were two women he was

involved with somehow, but he insisted he was only really interested romantically in the

one.”

“What did he say about her?”

Hank chuckled, able to find the fondness in the memory. “He said he wanted to make her

smile.”

“Come again?” Joe asked.

“That’s right. He didn’t say he wanted to sleep with her or make her scream with ecstasy

– nothing that he might ordinarily say. When he first told me about her, he said she

didn’t smile enough, and that what he really wanted to do was to make her smile.”

Joe smiled at the thought of Ian feeling like that. It did sound like he had fallen, fallen

hard. “And did he?”

Hank nodded. He smiled sadly at the memory. “When he came back from that time in

Florida he said she was smiling now.”

The two of them were quiet, thinking of a happier time for Ian, and feeling a shared sense

of loss at the happy times Ian and this woman were going to miss. Joe waited to see if

Hank had anything else to add, but he apparently didn’t know any more than he’d said.

Joe decided he had better get down to business. He asked if he could look around in

Ian’s office. He also asked if Hank would let the systems administrator allow him to

check a few things on Ian’s computer. Hank immediately agreed and showed Joe to Ian’s

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office, then left him alone. He returned a few minutes later with a young man who

logged Joe into Ian’s system, then retreated again from Ian’s office with a mournful look

of loss.

Joe didn’t find out anything unusual in Ian’s office either. He sat in Ian’s chair and tried

to imagine Ian sitting there while alive. Did he look out the window and think about his

life, or did he just come in and get done as quickly as possible so he could get out and

about. He’d gathered from various conversations with Ian that the part of the job he liked

most was meeting people, wheeling and dealing, so perhaps he viewed the office less as a

second home and more as a necessary evil. That might explain the lack of personal

touches; no photographs here.

He looked through the various piles of paper that Joe had carelessly left scattered around

his office, but found nothing of note. He then pulled up the last files that Ian had looked

at on the computer. The file covering the warehouse that was the murder scene was very

difficult for him to look at, but he forced himself to read it carefully and note its location.

He also looked at the files linked to the Holland file. Joe saw in the contact system that

Ian had talked to Holland the night of his death, and had scheduled an appointment to

show him the warehouse. He thought it was interesting that the detectives hadn’t

mentioned this fact, and wondered who this Holland guy was. He methodically went

through Ian’s records to see what else he could find out about Holland, then went to see

Meyers. Hank seemed a little surprised to see him again.

“What can you tell me about this guy Jack Holland?” Joe asked.

Hank shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, would he have any reason to kill Ian? It looks like Ian was on his way to meet

with Holland when he got killed.”

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Meyers shook his head. “I don’t know. If it was that simple they’d have arrested

Holland by now, and we’d have heard.”

That reminded Joe to visit Reilly and Kincaid to see what progress they’d made. “What

else do you know about Holland?”

Meyers didn’t have to think too hard; his mental database was still working well. “He

runs a nightclub called Darci’s, and there were rumors that he was looking to open some

other ones. I think Ian was looking to get some business with him.”

“In his records, Ian said he was introduced to Holland. Do you know who introduced

them?”

Meyers looked puzzled and was unable to come up with a suitable candidate. Joe asked

if the detectives had asked him about the mysterious intermediary. Hank thought about it

and indicated that they had not, although they were aware of Ian’s supposed meeting with

Holland. It gave Joe something else for him to talk to the two detectives about.

As Joe was leaving Hank’s office Hank suddenly stopped him. “I was thinking about

Ian’s lady friend. He could have, you know, met her anywhere, but there was a young

lady he seemed quite taken by a few weeks ago.”

“Who was that?”

“Her name is Elina Jazy. He saw her at a reception we were at, and danced with her for a

while.”

“That’s it? What makes you think she might be the one he was seeing? Did he mention

her again?”

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Hank shook his head. “He never said anything either way. She’s just the only one I can

think of that I saw him with recently.”

It was better than nothing, Joe decided. “What can you tell me about her?”

“Not much. She’s the daughter of a kind of local tycoon here in town, guy named Marko

Jazy. She was with him at the reception, that’s why she was there. And before you ask, I

don’t know him all that well either. We kind of run in different circles. So I don’t know

if this Jazy woman means anything or not.”

Joe thanked him anyway and tucked the names away for future reference. He didn’t

remember seeing either of those names in Ian’s address book, but he would have to take

another look. By the time Joe left Meyer’s office word had apparently gotten out that he

was Ian’s brother. Several people stopped him on the way out to express their sorrow,

and more than a few of them had tears in their eyes as they did so. He felt like a mild

celebrity, being surrounded by people wanting to connect with him, but he hated the

reason for it. He wished he had had a chance to visit while Ian had been alive so he could

see for himself how he had interacted with these people – who he was friendly with and

who he really seemed close to. Now this impromptu wake was the closest he was going

to get to see the office dynamics that Ian saw every day.

After he escaped the office, many handshakes and a lot of tearful hugs later, he called the

detectives and offered to buy them coffee. They grudgingly accepted, but Joe could

sense even over the phone that Kincaid had to twist Reilly’s arm to agree to it. They met

in a little diner the cops suggested.

“So are there any developments?” Joe started, as soon as they sat down. The diner was

not very busy and some of the clientele gave him a skeptical eye when they saw him

sitting with the policemen. A couple of them left shortly after his company arrived, a fact

that did not escape their notice, Joe observed. He figured they had bigger fish to fry

today.

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“Boy, you don’t waste any time,” Reilly said. He signaled for the waitress. “Hey, doll,

black here, cream and sugar for my partner, and – what will you have, Mr. Russell?”

“Black.”

“OK, two blacks and a mix. Got it?”

The waitress retreated and Reilly leisurely surveyed the room. “Finished?” Joe inquired

politely.

“Yeah,” Reilly drawled, not bothering to disguise his impatience with Joe’s presence.

“OK, you talk to me,” Joe said to Kincaid.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Russell. I know how difficult this must be for you.”

“So help me out here. Are you any closer to finding Ian’s killers?”

Kincaid shook her head. “Not really. We haven’t uncovered anyone who knew why Ian

was there, or who saw him or anyone else at the warehouse. It’s a pretty deserted area.”

“What about this Holland guy? Ian’s computer said he was meeting him there.”

The two detectives exchanged glances. Reilly’s face took on an even more dour

expression, while Kincaid seemed more surprised. “I see you’ve been talking to Hank

Meyers,” Kincaid said carefully.

“I checked Ian’s computer. So what’s up with Holland?”

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“Not our guy,” Reilly said. “He has a hundred witnesses who saw him at his nightclub

all night, from about five till well after midnight. That pretty much rules him out.”

“Maybe he hired someone.”

“Maybe, but he denies even knowing your brother. Claims he never called him, never

met him, never heard of him till yesterday’s paper.”

“Did you check his phones?”

That pissed Reilly off. “Mr. Russell, we’re not amateurs here, all right? Yeah, we

checked his phones – office, home, cell. No calls to your brother the night of his death or

ever.”

Joe sat quietly and they all drank some of their coffee to cool off. “What about the drug

tests?” Joe asked after a suitable silence.

Kincaid looked at her partner, then faced Joe again. “Negative. We didn’t find anything

other than the residue in the warehouse and on his clothes.”

“Does that rule out the drug theory?”

“No, Mr. Russell, it does not,” Reilly interjected. “It just means maybe your brother was

a smart guy. Maybe he kept business business and funny business funny business. I

heard your brother was supposedly a smart guy, right?”

He and Joe stared at each other. Joe kept his expression totally neutral and eventually

Reilly gave up and looked down into his coffee cup in disgust. “Yeah, he was a smart

guy,” Joe said. “Too smart to do something stupid like you apparently think he did.”

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“Now, now, Mr. Russell,” Kincaid said, trying to calm down the two men. She wasn’t

too happy with her partner’s callousness towards Russell. “We’re following all the leads

we have, which are not many. We just have to chase down what we have until it either

dead ends or leads us someplace else. That’s all we’re saying.”

Reilly looked up and flashed a lame smile. “Yeah, like my diplomatic partner says.

We’ll get these guys.”

Joe let them drink some more coffee before he asked his next question. “So who

introduced Ian to Holland?”

The detectives look at each other. “What do you mean?” Kincaid asked.

Joe looked at her. “His records say that someone introduced him to Holland a few weeks

ago at his club, Darci’s. Who was it?”

Reilly looked impatient. “Who the hell knows, Mr. Russell? It could have been anyone.

Your brother hung out there a lot. Maybe Holland liked to know the regulars. Maybe it

was one of the waitresses or bartenders. It could have been anyone.”

“I thought it might be important,” Joe said coolly.

“Holland has a rock solid alibi, Mr. Russell,” Kincaid said softly. “You’re barking up the

wrong tree here.”

Reilly took a long drink of coffee and abruptly stood up. “Come on, Juanita, we’ve got

work to do if we’re going to catch Mr. Russell’s killer.”

Chapter 35

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Joe’s parents and family came in the next day. Joe busied himself until then taking care

of various other arrangements and loose ends, glad to have something to distract him.

When he worked in Ian’s house he felt acutely aware of Ian’s death. It wasn’t Ian’s

presence that he felt, surrounded by Ian’s things. It was his absence. In some sense, that

had always been a characteristic of their relationship. Joe had moved away when he was

eighteen. Ian had still been a little kid, and in the years after that Joe only had seen him

in flashes. Ian’s growing up had been like a series of pictures from some old time movie,

with no continuity between the scenes and not really real to him somehow. Joe wished

now that he’d been around more, that Ian didn’t still seem like that little eleven year old

kid he’d left behind when he went to college.

His father was almost seventy, but easily looked fifteen years younger. He’d been retired

from the Corps for ten years now, but still had the crew cut and impressive physique of

his days of active duty. He was only slight above average height, but appeared much

taller due to his erect bearing. His mother, a couple of years younger, had also aged well.

When they were kids, she used to remind Joe and Ian that she’d been a dancer when she

was a young girl, and she retained her dancer’s legs after all these years. Now they both

looked suddenly older. They looked bent but not quite broken. His mother had clearly

been crying but stood straight and proud, gave him a big hug when he saw them at the

airport. His father held his grief in check, but Joe thought he suddenly seemed almost

fragile for the first time Joe could remember. In a way, that was even more unsettling

that Ian’s death

Debbie also gave him a long hug. Melissa seemed almost shy at first, but once he coaxed

her she ran to him and held on tightly to his leg. He picked her up and held her. “Hey,

little man,” he said to Doug. His son was standing a few feet away from everyone,

perhaps wishing he could be held like his sister but determined to act strong. “Hey, dad,”

he replied awkwardly.

“Come here,” Joe said warmly, and pulled him into a hug as well. His son resisted at

first, but gave in gladly. Joe took him to their hotel suite. They had dinner with his

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parents, who occupied themselves with their grandchildren. For a while they could all

pretend things were normal, that it was just another family get together. Later that night,

though, after everyone had gone to bed and it was Joe and Debbie alone in bed, Debbie

broke the pretense. “So how are you doing, sport?”

She was nestled in his arms. She was much smaller than he was, with long black hair, a

lithe frame, and a beautiful face. He always liked holding her and feeling like he could

protect her against the world. With Ian dying like he had, though, safety seemed a less

certain concept. He sighed. “I don’t know. Holding my own, I suppose.”

“How do you think your parents are doing?”

Joe thought for a moment. “I’m worried about my dad,” he admitted.

“Your dad?” she asked, looking up to him. “I thought your mother was the one who was

closest to Ian.”

“She was, but, you know, women deal with this kind of stuff better somehow. My dad,

well, he’s seen death and dying, but I don’t know that he has a way to feel about it when

it is his son.”

Debbie pulled back and looked intently at him. “Do you?”

Joe held her stare, thinking how her eyes always fascinated him. They could be

mysterious, joyful, thoughtful, or a myriad of other expressions, but they were always

beautiful. “I don’t know.”

The visitation was Saturday morning. They got the kids dressed up with surprisingly

little trouble. Doug was on his best behavior, and Joe wondered if his dad had given him

the “good little soldier” speech. Maybe the boy was just growing up. The visitation was

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at the funeral home, in a large chapel that Joe had worried was going to be too large.

They put photos of Ian around the room, and Joe was surprised at the amount of flowers

that had been sent. He was even more amazed at the number of people who turned out.

Word had evidently gotten out.

Joe was surprised to see his father in a suit. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his father in a

suit. For all of the other big occasions – including Joe’s wedding, where both of them

had been so attired -- his father had worn his dress uniform. Even though he was retired,

Joe had somehow expected to see his father in uniform. It added to the sense of

disorientation Joe felt about the whole thing. His father seemed equally discomforted,

appearing constrained within the coat and tie.

Joe didn’t know most of the visitors, of course, but he acted as host the best he could. He

was able to match up many of them with names of photos he’d come across in Ian’s

things. He suspected that for most of them this was the first friend they’d really lost,

especially under such tragic circumstances. Joe knew how they felt, only in spades.

He spent a long ten minutes with some of Ian’s hockey buddies, introduced to him by

Ian’s friend Bill Riddick. Until he’d discovered the hockey stick and pads in Ian’s closet,

he hadn’t even known Ian played hockey. Apparently he was quite good at it. “Man, he

was fast,” one of them told Joe.

“And fearless,” another chimed in. “I mean, when he got up a head of steam he’d body-

check you into tomorrow, and laugh about it.”

“He’d laughed about it when he took a big hit,” Bill added. “He liked the action.” They

all nodded in silent memory, and Joe could easily imagine Ian knocking heads, mixing it

up, then going off for a beer afterward with bruises but no hard feelings. It made him

sad.

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Joe introduced some of Ian’s friends to his parents, and made sure that Hank Meyers got

to meet them. He left them alone to talk, but observed that they seemed to connect,

speaking softly but warmly for several minutes. His mother cried at one point, and it was

Meyers, not his father, who put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said something to

her that made her feel better.

His father had invited some of his old friends. From his years of service it seemed like he

knew people anywhere he went, anywhere in the world and this was no exception. Later

in the visitation he motioned Joe over to meet one of them. “Joe, I’d like you to meet

General Giles.”

“We met a long time ago, in the Philippines,” Joe said after a second. “I must have been,

I don’t know, ten or so. Pleased to see you again, General.”

“You have a good memory,” the General said approvingly. “And it’s just Mr. Giles these

days. I’m retired, like your dad.”

“General Giles lives in town,” his father told him, ignoring the General’s instruction

about rank. He’d served with and under Giles too long to casually give up the trappings

of rank. He liked it when people still called him Colonel, although that happened less

and less often. “He has a successful business.”

“Congratulations.”

“Joe, I was just telling your father how sorry I am about Ian. I was shocked when I saw

the news about his death.”

“Thank you.”

“Are they getting any closer to catching the bastards who killed him?”

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Joe shook his head. “Doesn’t seem so, but I guess these things can take awhile.”

“Listen, if there is anything I can do, let me know. You’re not from around here, are

you?”

“I live outside of Philadelphia.”

“Great town,” Giles noted. “If you need to know where to find something or get

something done, let me know. I have a little influence around town that I’d be happy to

use.”

“I will,” Joe agreed without giving it a lot of thought.

Giles started to move away, then stopped. “You’re not in the service anymore, you are?”

“No, sir, I left a few years ago,” Joe told him. Family and all that.”

“It’s different these days than it was in our day, George,” his father told Giles. “Harder

to pull a thirty or forty year hitch, what with working women and all that.”

“My wife is a professor at Princeton,” Joe added. “Her career, the kids…”

“I understand. You were an Academy grad, right?”

Joe nodded.

“And you got to, what, Captain?”

“Yes.”

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Giles nodded thoughtfully. “I followed your assignments for the first few years, but lost

track of you after awhile. I wasn’t even sure when you retired.”

“It’s hard to keep up,” Joe said with a straight face. Giles looked at him, thinking about

something. Joe hoped he wasn’t going to bring up any more about his military career,

and Giles eventually decided not to pursue it. He and Joe’s father started talking again.

Joe looked at them and thought that it must be clear to anyone that these two were

different. In a suit, in shorts and long knee socks, watching a baseball game – when these

two were ninety years old onlookers would still be able to see that these were men who

took care of things that needed getting taken care of. It wasn’t so much the fighting

ability as their belief in duty that stood out. They understood honor, and the concept of

doing what had to be done, regardless of the costs to one’s own self. He looked at these

two retired senior citizens and he saw two soldiers.

Gaines, watching from a side door, looked and saw not two but three soldiers. He knew

the look all too well, and they all three had it. There was no good reason for him to come

to the viewing, and if Jazy had known he was coming he would have told Gaines he was

being reckless, but Gaines wanted to check out the family. He’d taken some precautions,

like wearing another modest disguise. His long, sun-blond hair and goatee made him

look younger, like one of Ian’s contemporaries. He planned to float in and out and avoid

talking to people, but he was struck by the brother. The reports on this Russell had

prepared him to find a balding, paunchy accountant. He might still be an accountant, but

there was nothing paunchy about him. More than that, there was an air about him that

Gaines didn’t like. Although clearly affected by his brother’s loss, he was not distraught

or out of it. He seemed too sharp. Gaines thought he could be trouble. When he noticed

Russell’s wife take the kids to a side hall, he unobtrusively followed them and pretended

to run into them by accident.

“Oh, you’re the sister-in-law, right?” Gaines said with an earnest smile.

“Yes,” Debbie replied, looking up at him uncertainly.

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“Your husband pointed you out to me,” he told her. “I’m so sorry about Ian.” He

sounded so convincing that he almost fooled himself. He shook her hand warmly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Debbie said.

“Mike Walker,” Gaines told her easily. “We knew each other from the health club. He

was a great guy.”

They talked for a few minutes, and without Debbie quite realizing it he’d managed to

worm out of her where they lived, where she and Joe each worked, names and ages of her

kids. A good interrogation seems like a conversation, and Gaines was a good interrogator

when he needed to be. He slipped away politely when he heard some Joe coming with

other people.

“Who was that?” Joe asked.

“A friend of Ian’s, Mike Walker.”

Joe thought back. “I don’t remember that name.”

“He said you pointed me out to him.”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t remember meeting a Mike Walker.”

“Well, you’ve met a lot of people today.”

“I guess,” Joe agreed dubiously.

“Is it time?” Debbie asked, sounding as though it was something she wasn’t quite ready

for but did not expect to be later either. Joe nodded. They were going to have a small,

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family only service, and Joe wanted to start getting the kids ready. They corralled them

and got his parents as well. On the way back to the chapel, he was surprised to see the

two detectives standing at the back. He went over to them.

“Detectives,” he said in acknowledgement. “Watching to see if the killer shows up?”

Reilly made a face, but Kincaid smiled nervously. “Stranger things happen, Mr. Russell.

We’re just being thorough.”

“Any luck?”

Kincaid shook her hand but Reilly was more reserved. “Well,” he started. Kincaid

looked quickly over at him in annoyance. They’d agreed they wouldn’t bring up the new

evidence unless pressed, not wanting to spoil the funeral proceedings. She thought

maybe Reilly didn’t like Russell for some reason. He’d made some comment about

Russell’s wife, for example. She was quite beautiful but Reilly commented on the fact

that she was at least part Oriental. He had claimed he was just noticing, but Kincaid had

wondered what was behind his observation.

“What is it?” Joe asked.

“Perhaps this isn’t the time or place,” Kincaid said diplomatically.

“If you know something new I’d like to hear it,” Joe said with that quiet determination

that Kincaid was coming to admire. She’d been a little dismayed at the sight of Russell’s

wife as well, but not because she was Oriental. She was a little too beautiful, Kincaid

thought, then chastised herself for being silly.

Now Reilly looked over at Kincaid, hoping she’d get him off the hook for his slip. She

inwardly sighed. “We had a new lead yesterday, Mr. Russell.”

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“Yesterday?” Joe asked. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

“We wanted to follow it out a little first. We get lots of tips that end up just being

cranks.”

“But this one didn’t?” Joe asked her, staring at her. She shook her head.

“Did you know your brother had another apartment, Mr. Russell?” Reilly broke in.

“What do you mean, another apartment?”

“We had a call that he had been seen several times at a very nice apartment building over

the last few weeks. We checked it out, and found a few residents who think they saw him

there.”

“They think they saw him?”

“In the company of a young woman. An attractive young woman.”

Joe thought for a second. “So why did you say he had another apartment? It was

probably her place, whomever she was.”

Reilly shook his head. “No one knew her, and she wasn’t listed as a tenant. In fact,

when we checked with the landlord we found a lease signed by your brother.”

Joe stepped a half step closer. “Why would he rent an apartment? That doesn’t make

sense.”

“Mr. Russell,” Kincaid started.

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“It makes sense when you consider that we found fifty thousand dollars and a kilo of

coke in the apartment,” Reilly interjected. He didn’t seem at all shy about breaking this

news to Joe.

Joe didn’t know what to say. “And this, this money and drugs…” he said slowly.

“We found your brother’s fingerprints on them, Mr. Russell,” Kincaid said as gently as

she could, wishing she didn’t have to. “I’m sorry.”

Chapter 36

The service was short and simple. All that the minister knew of Ian he had learned from

Joe in the last day or so, and his homily mostly centered around the afterlife and how

God’s plan was beyond our ability to comprehend. It seemed scant comfort to Joe, but he

was not relying on this minister or this service to put Ian to rest for him. His mother cried

silently during the service, with his father stubbornly holding her hand and appearing as

though he wished he had some other way of dealing with her.

Melissa cried more noisily, and sat in Joe’s lap hanging onto him and getting his shirt

slightly wet with her tears. Doug sat between him and Debbie, fidgeting nervously but

refusing to cry. Joe was immensely happy to have his family near him, and equally

immensely saddened to be listening to his younger brother’s funeral service. It seemed

like a bad dream, he thought wearily; this couldn’t really be happening. But it was.

Joe had picked out a nice spot on the side of a hill for the grave, and they drove there in

the funeral procession immediately after the service. They watched the casket being

lowered into the ground, and a few more tears were shed, some from Joe included. He

said a few words to the small circle of family, not knowing what to say and knowing

there were no words that could really help. It just felt so final, watching that casket go

into the ground. He remembered how battered Ian’s body had been and was glad no one

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else had to see him like that. Everyone else might have wondered how Ian looked within

the closed casket, but only Joe had to actually know. He was the older brother; it was his

burden.

Joe noticed his father walking up to the top of the hill when all was said and done. His

mother joined Debbie and started talking quietly with the minister. He went up to join

his father.

His father was surveying the view. Joe was silent and looked out at well. It was a

beautiful day out, sunny, not too warm and with a gentle breeze flowing. The mountains

stood silently in the distance, looming over everything in their quiet way. Joe wished he

were out hiking or sitting on his deck, not standing in a cemetery burying his brother.

“It’s very nice up here,” his father said at last. “Ian would have enjoyed it.”

“Yes, I wanted him to have a good view. For what it’s worth.” Neither of them was

particularly religious or held out much hope for an afterlife, but you never know.

They stood for a couple minutes more, not saying anything. His father seemed to be

struggling with something. They had, surprisingly, not really talked much about the

circumstances of Ian’s death over the last few days. It was as though the family had

unconsciously decided to get through the funeral before dealing with the facts of the

cause of that funeral. Now the funeral was over. His father might have just been

enjoying the view, maybe thinking deep philosophical thoughts the way some people are

inspired to when they look out at such scenes, but Joe kind of doubted it. His father had

made his philosophical decisions early on and didn’t waste much time reexamining them.

“Nice suit, pop,” Joe said at last.

His father looked down, and appeared slightly surprised to find himself in civilian attire.

“Yeah, your mother picked it out after you called. Good thing we know a tailor who

could make some alterations in time.” He paused for a second, and fingered the label

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absently. “It’s funny,” he said. “Your mother had been after me for a couple years to

buy one. She kept saying ‘what if Ian gets married?’ I kept telling her we’d have plenty

of time before that happened, and plenty of warning before any wedding.”

Joe nodded encouragingly, but thinking of that wedding that now was never going to

happen.

“I never, not for a second, thought I’d need a suit my boy’s funeral,” he told Joe, turning

to face him. “People think all we did was fight, but he was still my boy.” He put a hand

on Joe’s shoulder.

“I know, pop.”

“I admired Ian for having the nerve to stand up to me. Just like I admire you for who you

are and all you’ve done. I love you both, and I’m proud of you both. I’m not sure Ian

understood that.”

Joe’s eyes teared slightly, and he put a hand on his father’s waist. “I’m sure Ian knew

that, dad.”

His father took and deep breath, shook his head as though to clear it, and nodded towards

the chapel. “Were those the detectives you were talking to?” his father asked. Joe

confirmed that they were.

“And what do they know?”

Joe outlined how Ian had died, where he had died, and the lack of any witnesses. His

father grimaced at the description of Ian’s beating, but grew more thoughtful at the latest

evidence. “They think Ian was into drugs?” he asked with barely hidden skepticism. He

thought for a long moment, then turned to Joe. “What do you think?”

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Joe looked into his father’s eyes, and saw the pain. Pain from his son dying was one

thing, but his son being killed because he had turned to drugs or dealing drugs was

something else. It would mean that he’d lost the son he knew some time ago and simply

hadn’t known it, had been blind to it. That would be even worse. Joe thought through all

he knew of Ian, from his own experience and from what he’d seem of Ian’s life in the last

few days. His father wanted the truth, even if it would be painful. Was it impossible that

Ian was into drugs? No, not impossible. He liked to live hard and fast, and the detectives

had been right that he went to clubs where there would be people who were into drugs.

He could have slipped along the way. Then he thought of the little boy he had watched

out for, and of the friends Joe had met these last few days. His brother might have been a

handful, but he was not an idiot. “No,” Joe said softly.

His father looked at him intently, making sure that Joe really believed it and wasn’t just

trying to assuage him. Joe held his look until his father nodded, satisfied. His father

looked away, down at the grave. “You know what really burns me?”

Joe could think of lots of things about Ian’s death that his father might be referring to, but

shook his head politely.

“The son of a bitch who killed him could come up to me on the street and ask for a light

or the time, and I’d never know it. Hell, he’s probably ballsy enough to have shaken my

hand today, given me his sympathy with a straight face, then walk away and laugh about

it. I’d never know.”

It was unsettling. Joe had felt the same thing. He didn’t like the fact that his brother’s

killer was walking around, drinking coffee, making love – living his normal life, while

his little brother was lying in his grave.

His father continued, the bitterness clear in his voice. “The worst of it is, with this drug

thing they’re not just taking away his life but trying to take away our memory of who Ian

was.”

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“You don’t believe that shit, do you?” Joe asked in surprise.

His father shook his head. “No, but, you know, some people will. And there will always

be that little seed of doubt -- did he get into something we didn’t expect him to? Do you

want your mother to wonder that for the rest of her life?”

“No,” Joe agreed softly, now understanding where his father was going with this.

“This new evidence – you know what it means, don’t you?” his father asked.

Joe nodded. His father had put together the picture very quickly and come to the same

conclusions as Joe had. Someone was framing Ian, and was doing a good job of it. That

meant they were smart and organized. This was no impulse kill or gang hit.

“He’s your brother,” his father said softly.

That was the question, although not stated as a question. It wasn’t a challenge, not really.

Someone had killed his brother. His father wanted to know what he was going to do

about it. Twenty years ago – no, ten years ago – his father wouldn’t have been doing the

asking. He would have felt the weight on his own shoulders. Now, though, the weight

fell to Joe. “I know,” Joe said.

“You have your own family to think of. You have to be careful not to risk what you

have.”

Joe nodded sadly. He loved his family more than he could say, more than he could admit

even to himself. But love like that isn’t finite; loving some people didn’t mean there was

less for other people. “He was my brother,” Joe said at last.

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The two men looked again at each other, and shook hands. If anyone had seen them they

might have thought it odd. A hug might have been more expected under the

circumstances. But this handshake was not a comfort; it was an agreement.

He saw his mother looking up at them, and for a moment her eyes caught his own.

Through some cognition that he could not understand or explain, he felt she knew what

he and his father had decided, and she was giving her blessing. She turned away, and

continued her conversation with Debbie. Debbie shot him a quick look at well, and he

began to wonder what they had been discussing as well.

They all had a nice lunch together. They checked out of the hotel and went to the airport.

Joe and Debbie hadn’t had much time to talk since the funeral, but the previous night he

had carefully mentioned that he probably was going to stay a little longer to close out

Ian’s affairs. So she wasn’t surprised when he stopped short of the security gates.

“Doug, Melissa, come here,” Joe said. “You’ll have to say good-bye to me here.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Doug asked, suddenly worried.

“Daddy?” Melissa started to wail, her face screwing up in tears.

Joe knelt down to their level. He glanced up at Debbie and saw that she was fighting

back tears as well, then looked back sadly to his children. “Guys, there are a few more

things I need to do here.” He hugged Melissa and stroked her hair. “I’ll just be a couple

more days.”

“Dad, what about the men that killed Uncle Ian?” Doug asked, his face squirming in

concern.

“What about them?”

“Are they going to kill us too?”

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He reached out and pulled Doug in to him. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“They haven’t caught them, have they?”

He looked up at his wife, then his mother, and finally he fixed his gaze on his father. His

father seemed sadder than Joe had ever seen him, and Joe didn’t think it was just Ian’s

death that was making him so sad. He turned back to his children. “They will,” he

asserted firmly.

He hugged his kids hard, then stood up. He shook his father’s hand again, locking eyes

and seeing both the sadness and understanding in his father’s eyes. His mother tearfully

gave him a long hug, then looked at him mournfully. He wondered what, if anything, his

father had told her about his plans. “Be careful, my son. I’ve lost enough.”

“I know,” he said softly. He kissed her and hoped her heart wouldn’t break, hoped his

father could help her deal with Ian’s death.

Finally he turned to Debbie. She held back from him, then swept up into his arms. “I

know you need to stay, but I still wish you were coming with us,” she whispered into his

ear. “I’ll think about you every minute.”

“I love you,” he whispered back.

She pulled back and kissed him hard, presence of her kids and his parents

notwithstanding. She didn’t ask what he was intending to do in his extended time here,

but he suddenly guessed that she had noticed his talk with his father at the cemetery.

Debbie was not one to ask questions. She was more the type to observe things silently

and figure them out on her own. She was quite brilliant that way. He wondered if she

had figured his mission out already. She looked at him with equal parts sadness and

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pride, but most of all with love. “Come back to me, my love,” she said softly but in a

tone that brooked no question.

“I will,” he assured her, hoping he could live up to his promise.

Joe was going to find his brother’s killers and see they got justice. If that meant working

with the police and the legal system, that was fine. But if not, he was prepared as well.

Chapter 37

Some of Ian’s friends were having a wake of sorts at McGuires, and had invited Joe to

join them. He wasn’t much in the mood, but if he was going to learn more about Ian’s

death he needed to start getting to know more about Ian’s life and the people in it. There

were twenty or thirty people who gathered in a loose group. As he was introduced to

each of them, Joe mentally compared their names to the names he had come across in his

researches of Ian’s address book and telephone records. He was pleased to find that most

of them were already on his list.

For the most part, Joe sat and listened as the memorial celebration gradually turned into

more ordinary conversations between friends. Some of those conversations were about

Ian, and some weren’t, so Joe selectively listened to the ones around him that seemed

relevant. He learned, to his surprise, that not only did Ian play softball but pretty much

had year round athletic endeavors – soccer, basketball, and, of course, the surprising

interest in hockey. For a guy who had dismissively turned his back on junior high and

high school sports, Ian had spend a lot of time on organized sports in his adult life. He

was less surprise that, no matter what the sport, Ian had always been one of the stars; Joe

knew Ian had been very athletic.

Of more interest were stories about Ian’s romantic exploits, where his prowess was, if

anything, even more impressive than his athletic ones. His friends enjoyed telling stories

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of how Ian picked up or was picked up by various women. Several of the friends

gathered were themselves women, some of whom apparently were just friends but some

of whom themselves had been romantically involved with Ian at one point or another.

Joe didn’t get any sense that there was any bitterness or anger towards Ian, but figured

that the ones who harbored such feelings probably wouldn’t have shown up at the wake.

At one point one of the women in the group made her way over to where he was sitting.

He’d been listening enough to figure that she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and

that her relationship with Ian had stayed more wannabe than anything definite. Still, Joe

couldn’t rule out that Ian might have slept with her at some point. “Hey, there,” she

cooed, her blouse unbuttoned one button lower than might normally be considered

appropriate. Joe kept his eyes away from her ample cleavage. “Hello, yourself. It’s

Lindsey, right?”

“You remembered,” she gushed, clearly flattered. She moved in closer and put a

sympathetic arm around his shoulders. “How are you doing, dear?”

Joe carefully didn’t respond to her closeness. “Oh, all right, I guess.”

She’d had a bit too much to drink, and there was a pause while she tried to think of her

next step. “You’re a lot quieter than your brother, you know?”

Joe shrugged. “Well, you’re not exactly catching me at my best,” he agreed

apologetically. “What with my brother’s death and all.”

Lindsey didn’t quite know how to respond to that. She cocked her head. “You are kind

of cute, though.”

“You’re kind of cute yourself,” he told her gallantly.

She seemed encouraged by this, and moved in closer. “You like me?”

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He held up his ring finger. “I’m married.”

She furrowed her brow, and planned her course of attack. She leaned in to give him a

good view down her blouse while she pretended to look away, keeping a watch out of the

corner of her eye to see if he checked her out. Married or not, he was only human, and he

took a glance. She was wearing a frilly Victoria’s Secret-type bra that amplified her

already ample breasts, and he could detect no visible suntan line. She looked back at him

with a pleased smile on her face, sensing opportunity. “Happily?” she asked boldly.

Joe looked regretful. “Afraid so.” She studied him for another couple seconds, then

moved on to new territory.

After a few hours the crowd had dwindled, and Joe had come away with the names of a

few more girlfriends to check out, and a couple of stories that seemed out of the ordinary.

The story about Dani and her forthright but unsuccessful seduction of Ian got lost amidst

the various stories of women, but the one about a fight Ian had had in Darci’s parking lot

piqued his curiosity. It hadn’t sounded like much of a fight, and no one had actually

witnessed it, but he thought a man who picked Ian out by name in a parking lot and

attacked him might have significance, especially since Ian subsequently beat him up. A

man like that might have reason to seek revenge, Joe thought. Tommy Banks, who had

told the story, proudly finished it by saying that someone who had the nerve to go after

Ian should have expected to have his hands full. It had temporarily quieted the crowd,

knowing how Ian had met his end.

No one was keen on letting Joe buy a drink, so Joe eventually made his way to the bar to

order a round for the remaining group. They were noisy and having a good time, despite

the reason for their being there. Ian would have approved, Joe thought. He would have

wanted people to be together and swapping stories, having a good time on his account.

“You one of Ian’s friends?” the bartender asked. “I don’t remember seeing you before.”

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Joe smiled sadly. “I’m Ian’s brother.”

The bartender’s eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth. Her eyes watered. “I’m

so sorry, how stupid of me.”

“It’s OK.”

She studied him for a moment. “I can see the family resemblance. I don’t think I knew

Ian had a brother. My name’s Sam,” she told him, extending her hand.

Joe shook it. “Joe.”

“How come you didn’t come around more often?” she asked, making sure she had no

immediate demands on her time from other customers.

“I live on the East Coast,” he said. “I didn’t get here much.”

She offered to buy him a drink. He initially declined, but when she persisted he relented.

“MGD,” he requested.

She raised her eyebrows. “MGD? Geez, your brother liked the expensive imported

stuff.”

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” he asked with a faint smile.

“Yeah, he had definite tastes. Let me buy you a real drink. You a scotch drinker like

Ian?”

“I’m more a bourbon man myself.”

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She grinned and grabbed a bottle of bourbon, then poured them both a drink. They

clicked glasses and toasted. They each took a short sip. “You’re not much like Ian,”

Sam said, inspecting him frankly.

“How so? I mean, aside from the bourbon thing.”

She flashed him a smile and Joe wondered if she and Ian had been involved. She was

cute enough, and certainly nervy enough to present a challenge to Ian. “Well,” she said,

“I was watching you out there. Ian would have been the center of the crowd, laughing

and telling stories, getting everybody going. You sort of sat on the sidelines watching. I

mean, I guess you don’t really know these people, but it is your brother’s wake.”

Joe shook his head slightly and flashed a small smile. “I’m the quiet one.”

“Yeah, I figured that. But I also figure you don’t miss much. You were paying attention

to everything.”

“You know Ian well?” Joe asked, wanting to change the topic.

“Well enough,” Sam answered with a smile of her own.

“Did you ever…”

Sam laughed, and excused herself to go serve another customer. Joe thought that perhaps

she wouldn’t come back, that either she thought she’d talked to him long enough or

maybe his question offended her. But she soon returned, and Joe found himself grateful.

“You were asking -- I don’t wear my wedding ring on duty, but, no, Ian and I never slept

together, if that’s what you mean,” she said with a broad smile. “Not that there wasn’t

some chemistry…”

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She told him that a couple times they had gone to an after hours club, on those rare

occasions when Ian ended up at the end of the evening without a companion and Sam’s

husband was working a late shift. She told him once Ian had taken her to a club and

played the piano for her and the rest of the crowd.

“I didn’t even know Ian played the piano,” Joe said in amazement. Sam gave him a

surprised look. “I mean, I remember him taking piano lessons as a kid,” he told her, “But

I didn’t think it took.”

“Oh, it took,” she assured him. “He was pretty good.”

Joe wondered what other interests Ian had that he hadn’t known about. Playing piano for

women late at night in some piano bar, playing soccer with the boys…he’d even found

checks to the Boy Scouts – an institution Ian had disdained as a boy -- in Ian’s records. It

again made him sad that he’d left Ian get so far out of his life, and it scared him that there

might be other things about Ian’s life that he wouldn’t like finding out about. “Let me

ask you a question,” he said carefully to Sam. “Was Ian ever involved in drugs, to your

knowledge?” He hated saying it, hating hearing the words come out of his mouth, but if

he was going to find out more about Ian’s death he had to take these kinds of

opportunities.

Sam looked at him in genuine amazement. “Are you kidding me?” she asked. He shook

his head. “I mean, you really don’t know your brother at all, do you?”

“We lived apart for a long time,” he explained.

Sam accepted this, but shook her head at it anyway. Joe knew how she felt. She leaned

in against the bar towards him and gave him a frank look. “Listen, your brother wasn’t

the kind of guy to take drugs.”

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“No?” He was pleased to hear this, but needed to know if she was just saying that to

smooth over a wrinkle in a friend’s death or if she actually knew Ian well enough to tell

him about his brother.

“No. I see lots of people in this job – some nice like your brother, some losers, and some

real jerks. And, you know, some of them use drugs. After a while, you can tell the type.”

“And my brother wasn’t the type?”

Sam shook her head and smiled broadly, as if remembering fondly. “People take drugs to

feel like your brother.”

“Really?” It sounded a lot like what the waitress had told Joe that first night.

“Your brother was always a good time. The room got a little livelier when he came in,

people had more fun when he was around. He did what he felt like and didn’t look back.

So, no, drugs wouldn’t give him anything he didn’t already have.”

She looked at him intently and they locked eyes, Joe trying to decide if she knew what

she was talking about or was just giving him some glib bartender story. She really cared

about Ian, he finally decided, and was telling him the truth as she knew it. “Thank you,”

he said sincerely, and she blushed a little. He saw even more why his brother might have

been attracted to her, husband or no husband. He looked over at the rest of his party.

“Well, I better get back to the party.” He put out his hand, which she took and held in

both her hands.

“I’m sorry about your brother, Joe.”

“Me too.”

“You take care of yourself.”

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Chapter 38

Joe woke up the next morning with an inspiration. “Of course not!”

His subconscious must have been thinking about the previous night’s stories, especially

about Ian’s stubborn streak. Then there was the fight in the parking lot. Ian was tough

and knew how to take care of himself. He might have been hopelessly outnumbered, and

he might have been taken by surprise, but he would not have gone down without a fight.

Joe had planned to spend the day talking to some of Ian’s old girlfriends. He still thought

something relating to a woman – a jealous boyfriend or husband, perhaps – was the most

likely explanation for Ian’s murder. The drug angle just didn’t make sense, as confirmed

by Sam and others. He had a list of ten or so women that his friends thought were the

latest women Ian had gone out with, not counting the ones he had talked to the prior

night. He hadn’t learned anything interesting from that group – all had departed on good

terms – but he only needed to find one with a bad story.

Now he had a different agenda for the day. He spent an hour or so mapping out his new

plan of attack, then went off. It took him till late in the afternoon, and he returned with

the information he had hoped for. He just wasn’t sure what to do with it. He needed to

tell the detectives, but he had a feeling Reilly wasn’t going to be the most sympathetic

listener. He decided to try Detective Kincaid, and he wanted to deliver the information in

person. She wasn’t listed in the phone book, but with a little work on the Internet he had

her address. He checked a map and drove over to her house, a small ranch in a quiet

residential neighborhood. He rang the door.

“Who is it?” her voice asked from behind the closed door. He could see her checking

him out through the peephole, but she wasn’t going to open the door without him

responding.

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“It’s Joe Russell.”

There was a moment of apparent indecision, then he heard the door being unlocked. She

opened the door and stood behind the screen door. She was dressed in an old pair of

shorts and a tank top. Her feet were bare, and she looked like a housewife spending a

quiet day cleaning. On the other hand, he was struck by her lovely legs, and by how her

full breasts filled out the tank top. He didn’t think she was wearing a bra, and he could

see the tantalizing curves of the top of her breasts. He also thought she caught him

checking her out and was amused by it.

“Mr. Russell? What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you.”

She frowned, and looked around the outside as if to see if there were any other

unexpected visitors. Or maybe she was worried that her neighbors would wonder what

this strange white guy was doing at her door. “I didn’t have anything to do with that

story,” she told him with a defensive tone of voice.

He didn’t know what she was talking about, and wrinkled his brow accordingly. She

noticed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it?”

“I haven’t had a chance to read the paper,” he admitted with a bad feeling. “What did it

say?”

She sighed. “Come in,” she said, opening the door and motioning him in. “How did you

find where I live?”

Joe shrugged. “It’s the Information Age. You can find out almost anything.”

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She led him to the small living room, which was strewn with papers and police files. “I

see you’re working,” he said, pleased to see that she was thinking about Ian’s murder

even on her day off. She gestured him towards a chair in the living room, then dug out a

newspaper from a large pile near the couch. She reluctantly handed it to him.

His brother’s death was again front page news. This time it was not the murder they

focused on; it was the “love nest” and the drug connection. It painted an entirely

different picture of Ian than the previously sympathetic stories, done with a pretext of

fairness but with an underlying glee at this unexpectedly juicy turn of events. Joe read it

with an increasing sense of dread. “So how did they get the story?” he asked at last,

looking up at her.

She shook her head. “They’re reporters, Mr. Russell. That’s their job. They’ve got all

sorts of sources.”

“But not you.”

She crossed her heart with her fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

He gave her a long look, deciding whether to believe her. He finally exhaled; if he hadn’t

trusted her, he wouldn’t have come. She sensed his conclusion and sat on the edge of the

couch and he settled into a chair across from her. “What can I do for you, Mr. Russell?”

Joe thought perhaps she was leaning in a little to tempt him to stare down her top at the

rest of those nice breasts, so did his manful best to keep his eyes locked on to her head.

“I think I have a couple leads for you, but I have a few questions for you first.”

Her eyes went stony. “Nope. It doesn’t work like that. If you have some information on

your brother’s death you need to report it. We’re not playing trade-me.”

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They continued their stare for a few awkward moments, then Joe smiled and sat back in

his chair. “Very good, Detective. Your partner would be proud of you. Now, can we

talk like human beings?”

He wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to respond, but when he saw her lips start to

fight off a smile he knew he’d won. “You first,” she said, suddenly looking more

relaxed.

“I’m Joe. Now can I ask you my questions?”

She shook her head. “Give me something first, so I know I’m not wasting my time here.”

She had certainly not been expecting him to show up at her door, but something about it

did not entirely surprise her. She thought he’d given her some looks that indicated he’d

definitely noticed her, and she didn’t think it was just that he thought she was more

sympathetic than her more cynical partner. Russell might be married but he wasn’t dead.

She subconsciously winced at that, remembering who was dead and what had brought

him to her door.

A good negotiator, Joe knew not to show his hand too early. He gave her the smaller

piece first. “Did you know Ian got into a fight at a club named Darci’s a few weeks ago?”

Her eyebrows rose.

“I don’t know if you knew it, but Darci’s is owned by Jack Holland. The guy who –“

“I know who Holland is and I know he owns Darci’s,” she interrupted. She looked

thoughtful. “I didn’t know about the fight, though.”

“From what I understand, it wasn’t much of a fight. Some guy tried to pick on Ian in the

parking lot but never laid a hand on him. Ian kicked his ass pretty well.”

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“People saw this?”

Joe had to admit that he didn’t have any actual witnesses, just reports from friends Ian

had told about the fight. Juanita frowned. “I don’t know…”

“You got a guy getting beat up by my brother in the parking lot of the guy who Ian had

claimed called him the night of his death. And – apparently the guy knew Ian’s name.

Maybe neither never happened or maybe there’s some coincidence here, but it seems like

it’d be worth checking in to.”

She nodded her head and gnawed absently on her lower lip in a charming mannerism. “I

would have to agree. What else do you have?”

Joe shook his head. “You next. Tell me about this bag of money and drugs.”

“What about it?”

“Well, were there fingerprints and if so where?”

Kincaid told him that they’d found Ian’s fingerprints on the plastic around the drugs, but

the bag had been wiped clean and the money had too many smudged prints to be useful.

“Why would Ian wipe off the bag if it was his bag in his own house?”

Kincaid admitted she didn’t know, but told him that people do strange things like that.

“Maybe he remembered that his prints were on the bag but forgot about the drugs.”

“Maybe,” Joe said, sounding not at all convinced. “Now tell me about the apartment.”

“What about it?”

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“Well, where was there physical evidence of Ian having been there? Can you tell me

where they found fingerprints or anything else?”

“I can do better than that,” Kincaid told him with a smile. She leaned over again – now

Joe was sure that she was giving him a glimpse, and when her head was focused down on

the piles of paper he allowed himself a quick but pleasing look at her chest. She finally

pulled out a diagram and put it on the coffee table. They both leaned in to look at it more

closely.

“These are where we found your brother’s fingerprints,” she told him, pointing to a series

of blue marks. She pointed to a set of red marks. “These are a second pair of

fingerprints, which we haven’t identified but which we’re thinking was the girl that the

neighbors say was living there.”

There were far more red marks than blue marks, Joe noted. “And those?” Joe asked,

pointing to some green marks in the master bedroom and bathroom next to it.

She looked at him and grinned. “Those, Mr. Russell, are, um, pubic hairs. They belong

to the woman.”

Joe studied the diagram for a long time. Finally he looked up at her, and found her

watching him with a half smile. “Doesn’t it seem odd to you that he’s supposedly

keeping a mistress, and the only places you found any prints are in the living room,

kitchen, and guest bathroom? I mean, if I were keeping a mistress, I think I’d use a few

more rooms, if you know what I mean.”

Now Kincaid definitely felt a flash between them. She scolded herself to stick to

business; this was, after all, a murder investigation. But she thought that when she was

alone later that night she’d be wondering about how he might, in fact, use the rooms with

his mistress. She forced herself to look stern. “Maybe. Maybe she was his partner, not

his lover.”

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“Maybe. Can I see the rental agreement with his signature on it?”

“We’ve checked the handwriting. It is your brother’s.”

“Can I see it anyway?”

She frowned again, but grudging searched her piles for it and handed it to him. He

looked at it for a few seconds. “Where is the original?” he asked. “This is a fax.”

“That is the original,” she admitted. “The manager only got a faxed copy. He was

supposed to get the original in the mail later, but it never came.”

Joe handed it back to her. He had a dubious look on his faced. “For Christ’s sake,” he

said. “I could forge anyone’s signature on a fax. All you need is something else they’ve

signed, then you make a copy, cut out the signature, paste it on your document and fax

it.”

“It’s possible,” Kincaid admitted defensively.

Joe shook his head at her. “I mean, your evidence is pretty weak, really. You can’t really

prove Ian rented the apartment and a good defense attorney is going to rip you about

those fingerprints. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree on this drug angle, I really

do.”

“It’s the best lead we have,” she said coolly.

Joe waited and they exchanged awkward stares. Kincaid was starting to decide that he

might be a jerk after all when he finally spoke again. “I have another lead for you.”

“So you implied.”

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He handed her a name on a piece of paper. It was Jason Walker. “Who’s this?” she

asked.

“He’s a guy who had some emergency knee surgery the night Ian was killed.”

Kincaid raised her eyebrows. “So?”

“I got to thinking – there’s no way Ian got beat up without hitting back. So this morning

I started checking out the hospitals.”

“You did what?” Kincaid asked in amazement.

“I looked at the map for the warehouse and started working my way out. It took a lot

longer than it should have; if I’d known that University Hospital is the major trauma

center around here, it would have saved lots of time. I should have started there first,

which is where I found this guy Walker.”

Kincaid looked at him skeptically. “You’re saying these hospitals told you about their

patients and one of them actually gave you the name of one of them that had surgery?”

Joe raised his hands in apology. “I’m not saying it was easy.”

In fact, it had been quite difficult. The hospital emergency rooms were naturally tight

lipped about giving this out-of-town civilian any information, especially since Joe

couldn’t tell them exactly what he was looking for. He asked them if they’d treated

anyone who looked like he had been in a fight. Naturally, they kind of scoffed at that, as

they got lots of activity from people in fights. It wasn’t until he brought out the fact that

his kid brother had been murdered, and put his best sorrowful face, that he started to get

some cooperation. At University someone remembered this character who came by

himself, having by dropped off at the curb by friends who didn’t seem to care enough to

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stick around to see how he fared. He claimed to have been injured playing football, but

didn’t seem dressed for it and had no grass stains or other signs. Joe had gradually gotten

enough information to know where to look, then discovered the rest through some

unauthorized use of a vacant terminal.

Kincaid tapped the card with the name on it against her knee thoughtfully. “It sounds

thinner than the apartment lead.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “If you buy the basic premise it all makes sense. You didn’t

know Ian, but for him to get hurt like that he had to at least get some shots in first. It’s

got to be worth checking out.”

Kincaid looked at this quiet man and thought he had done a pretty good job. Reilly

wasn’t going to like it, but Russell had done some good detective work here. “We’ll

check it out,” she said at last, giving him an indefinable look.

The look stretched into a long period of silence that neither of them knew quite how to

fill. “What next, Detective Kincaid?”

She stood up and stood before him, the top of her strong legs and bottom of her shorts

just at his eye level. He liked what he saw, and she saw that. She smiled knowingly at

him. “Now you can take me out to dinner, Joe,” she told him saucily. “And it’s Juanita.”

Chapter 39

The next day was busy. Joe had methodically plotted out the restaurants and bars that Ian

had frequented most often – or, at least, used his credit cards at most often. He also had

taken the phone numbers Ian had called most often and crossed out the people he’d

already met. Then he spent the rest of the day making calls, arranging meetings with

Ian’s friends, and visiting Ian’s hangouts.

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The thing was, you can never really know someone else. You can talk to their friends,

you can go to the places they went, you can read their mail and the notes on their

refrigerator, but you still don’t really know what it was like for them. You don’t know

how they felt, and you don’t know how people reacted when they walked in the room.

Joe was learning a lot about how Ian lived his life, but his understanding of who Ian had

been was still based on having watched Ian grow up. He’d seen Ian’s first triumphs, and

he’d seen how Ian had reacted to his first setbacks. His character had formed early on.

Joe knew sometimes people go down the wrong path as they grow, but he’d spent enough

time with Ian over the years to have more faith that he knew Ian better than any theories

of Ian’s behavior that the police might come up with.

He took a break late in the afternoon to call his family. He wanted to call after dinner but

before the kids had gone to bed, and the time difference made it more difficult. “Hey,

there, beautiful,” he said affectionately when Debbie answered the phone.

“Hey there yourself,” she replied, her tone softening noticeably when she realized who it

was. Despite their years of marriage and the not-infrequent time apart their careers

resulted in, neither of them had gotten over missing the other when they were separated.

“What’s up?”

They made idle chitchat for a few minutes, doing the best social grooming that the phone

allowed. “How are the kids?” he asked at last.

“Well, you can see for yourself. Melissa is not herself, and Doug is upset because of

some things his friends said.”

She put Doug on the phone. “What’s going on, champ?” Joe asked.

“Nothing.”

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“Your mom said some kids were giving you some attitude. What’s up with that?"

“Nothing.” Doug’s attitude was still glum, but he seemed to be softening.

“Just between us.”

“Well,” Doug started, debating if he could still talk to his father. “Some of the guys are

mad at me because they think I should have been here for the soccer game last weekend.”

Joe waited a second before replying. “And what do you think?”

Doug hesitated as well. “I wanted to play, but, you know, Uncle Ian was kind of

important to me.”

“That’s right, champ,” Joe reassured him solemnly. “If your friends give you a hard

time, you should just telling them you’ve had some adult things to deal with and you

hope they don’t have to face them for many years.”

“Really?” Doug seemed excited by the prospect of being included in the adult world.

“Really.”

Doug got off the phone pumped up. Melissa got on immediately after him. “Hi, daddy,”

she said in a small voice.

“Hi, princess. What’s going on there?”

“Daddy, do you ever get scared?” she asked cautiously.

He mentally sighed to himself. “Sure, honey. Everyone does.”

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“I’m scared,” she admitted in a small voice.

“What are you scared of?”

Melissa didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. She stumbled around, and Joe

pieced together a picture of nightmares, sleeping poorly, and being unusually clingy to

her mother. “Look, honey, everyone gets scared. But that can’t stop you from doing

what you need to do.”

“It doesn’t?” she asked in a hopeful tone.

“Being scared is just your body’s way of warning you of something. It’s like getting hot.

What if in dance class you quit every time you got hot?”

“That’d be silly,” she chided him.

“It would be,” he agreed. “You drink some water, you slow down a little, you listen to

your body but you keep doing what you need to do. Same thing with being scared.”

Melissa’s spirits seemed repaired and she chattered on about school and other, more

important things. It was several minutes later before Debbie got back on the phone.

“You’ve always got another calling as a child psychologist if the accounting gig ever

goes bust,” she said.

“Yeah, but that’s after the gigolo thing, right?”

“Right. Speaking of which, are you having dinner with that pretty detective again?”

“Hmm, first it was ‘the detective,’ then ‘the woman detective,’ and now it is ‘the pretty

detective.’ Do I sense a little jealousy?” Joe teased, feeling mildly guilty.

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“Not here. I’m just having trouble keeping track of your social engagements,” she said

archly. Her tone grew more serious. “Speaking of which, how did the day go?”

He told her about his investigations, such as they were. Ian had cut quite a swath. People

had reacted with genuine sorrow when he told them who he was, then warmed to fond

smiles the more they talked about Ian. “I mean, not just his friends – people in the

restaurants remembered him immediately and had their own Ian stories,” he told her.

“Someone called him flamboyant, and I guess that fits.”

“Not something you get accused of very often,” she said dryly.

“Not too often,” he agreed. Ian had always had the corner on flamboyance in their

family.

“So has any of this helped?”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking it might be a jealous boyfriend, or maybe – stupid as it

sounds – maybe someone with a grudge because of some sport he played, but so far

nobody seems to have any reason to want him dead.”

Debbie thought for a moment, hesitating more due to the delicacy of her next question

than the need to think about it. “And did you find…”

Joe let her linger for just long enough to see that she wasn’t actually going to say it.

“Nope. No one has any memory of Ian having anything to do with drugs.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Me neither.”

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They had been married for a long time, and Debbie was a very smart woman. When Joe

let the silence continue for longer than a normal conversational pause would indicate, she

knew what was on his mind. “Was it hard?” she asked delicately.

“Was what hard?” Joe asked, knowing perfectly well what she meant.

“Talking to all Ian’s friends about him.”

Joe was sitting in his car in a mall parking lot not far from where Ian had lived. He’d

pulled in to take a break while making this call, and had parked away from the rest of the

cars in the lot. He looked over towards the mall, and watched the busy activity of cars

coming and going, people walking in and out of the mall. It all looked so normal, so

banal, and talking to his family heightened his desire to be living his usual life again

instead of scurrying around playing amateur detective after his dead brother. He sighed.

“It’s always been hard,” he said at last, not sure what he meant but knowing it was true.

Debbie wasn’t one to let him get away with a statement like that. “What do you mean?”

He looked over at the mall again, then down at the dashboard. “Everything always came

so easily for Ian,” he told her softly, although perhaps he was really talking to himself.

“Friends, girlfriends, school, even work. He never had anything he really had to work

for.”

“Lucky guy!”

Joe snorted a short laugh. “Yeah, maybe. I just don’t know if he ever had anything he

really cared about.”

“He cared about you, about his family.”

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“You know, everyone loves their family. That’s not the same. I always wished he had

something he really had to work for, something he cared enough about to put himself on

the line for. Now he’ll never get that chance to really prove himself.”

Debbie didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure he expected her to anyway, but she didn’t know

what to say. Joe was lost in his own thoughts and memories, staring away in space while

enclosed in his car that sat all alone in its own little universe there in the parking lot. At

last she decided it was time to intrude. “You would have been a hard act to follow, you

know.”

Joe snapped back to reality. “What do you mean?”

“He probably thought everything came easy for you, too. You were always good at

everything, and it probably seemed effortless to him. You never know what someone

else’s life is like.”

“And yet here I am, trying to.”

“And yet there you are, trying -- doing your best to help your little brother one more

time,” Debbie told him tenderly. “Are you liking the man you are learning about?”

Joe didn’t have to think long about that one. “I am.”

“Then you’re doing the right thing, trying to find out what happened to cause his death.

Ian is lucky to have a brother like you.”

Joe took a deep breath, suddenly ready to get back to the grind. He told Debbie that he

had more to do in the evening -- a few of Ian’s he hadn’t gotten to during the day, a few

hangouts that Joe figured were more likely to have people in the evening who knew Ian.

He and Debbie reluctantly wrapped up their call. “Be careful, my love,” she told him

with heartbreaking honesty.

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“Always,” he told her gravely.

It was not until about eleven that he reached Darci’s. He took a seat at the bar and waited

patiently for the bartender to make is way over to him. He ordered a beer, and when the

bartender brought it Joe pulled out Ian’s picture and handed it to him. “Did you know

this guy?”

The bartender took the picture and pretended to study it. Frank did know Ian very well,

but he made a pretense of looking at the picture as though it was a face he’d never seen.

He handed it back to Joe. “Doesn’t ring any bells. We get a lot of people in here,” he

said, gesturing at the bar, busy even on a Monday night.

Joe nodded. “You’re sure?”

The bartender shrugged, and walked away to serve another customer. When he swung by

Joe’s way again Joe got his attention long enough to ask if Jack Holland was around. The

bartender looked at him suspiciously and said he’d check, but Joe noticed he didn’t relay

his request any further. Joe saw the game and figured he was going to have to outwait

him. He nursed his drink, reminding the bartender every half hour or so for the next two

hours.

In his office, Jack Holland did indeed hear that someone was asking about Ian Russell,

and he didn’t like it at all. He immediately called Jazy, who told him to stay calm. “See

if he gives up,” Jazy advised.

“If he doesn’t?”

“Then talk to him. Just stick to the story and you’ll be fine.”

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It gradually became clear that Joe wasn’t going anywhere, so eventually Holland came

out and walked over to Joe. “I’m Jack Holland,” he said, extending a hand. “I hear

you’re looking for me.”

“You must be a busy guy,” Joe said. “Listen, I’m Ian Russell’s brother.”

Holland shook his head and put out his hands in a cautioning gesture. “Hey, I talked to

the cops about this. I didn’t know your brother and I never called him.” He backed away

slightly from Joe.

“I understand,” Joe said calmly. He didn’t want to scare Holland away prematurely. “I

just don’t understand why he recorded that he had a call from you, especially if he didn’t

know you. Are you sure you never met him?”

“I meet lots of people,” Holland said evasively. “It’s possible. I mean, I meet a lot of

people.”

“My brother apparently came here a lot.”

“There you go. Maybe I met him sometime and made a big impression. Your brother

was in real estate, right? Well, lots of people in real estate want to get to know me, if you

know what I mean. They want to be in on my next club.”

Holland made his farewells, telling Frank to put Ian’s bill on his tab. Joe had only had

one beer, but it was a nice gesture anyway. He finished his beer and went outside. He

noticed a couple bouncers hanging out and approached them. “Excuse me. Do you

recognize this guy?” He showed them the picture. They didn’t have to look at it long.

“Sure. That’s Ian Russell,” one of them told him. He was a young man with unusually

well defined chest and biceps, as well as a blond ponytail.

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“He came here a lot,” the other agreed. He was shorter and had a blue buzz cut, with an

array of colorful tattoos adorning his chest and arms.

He talked to them for a few minutes, trying to get their sense of Ian. Neither admitted to

having seen Ian’s fight in the parking lot, but one of them laughed. “The closest I saw

was Ian stopping a fight,” the pony-tailed one said with a laugh.

“Tell me about that,” Joe urged.

“There were these couple of drunks playing pool that were getting belligerent. I was

keeping my eyes on them in case they started something. Next thing I knew Ian was in

between them.”

“But he didn’t get into a fight with them?”

The guy laughed again. “No. He bought them a drink and they seemed to become big

buddies. Then I figured it out – he wanted to move the moves on this lady so he had to

cool them off.”

“A-ha. So you remember this because it was unusual for Ian to get mixed up in a

something that might lead to a fight?”

“Hell, no,” the man said in surprise. “I remember because the lady he wanted to put the

moves on was Ms. Jazy.”

Chapter 40

Joe went home soon after that, but stayed awake thinking hard about all he had learned.

The second bouncer had not seen the incident with Elina Jazy, but he had seen the two of

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them come together a couple weeks later. More importantly, he’d seen her introduce Ian

to Jack Holland.

He was sure he was on to something. He could connect Ian to this woman Jazy, whom

the bouncers said was the daughter of a big shot. That would be her father, whom Hank

Meyers had told him about. He also thought it was very interesting that, out of all the

restaurants and bars he had gone to, out of all of the people he had talked to, Holland and

the bartender were the only ones who professed never knowing Ian. Based on what the

bouncers had told him, they were clearly lying to him. He just didn’t know why, or what

it might mean. He decided not to share thus information yet with Kincaid.

Joe spent much of the day doing research. He wanted to know about Darci’s and about

Jack Holland in particular. His research produced more questions than answers, which

intensified his curiosity. He also tried to find out more about Elina Jazy, who proved to

be fairly elusive. He was more successful in finding out things about her father. His

business career was well documented in the newspapers and other public records. He

appeared to be a prototypical entrepreneur, with his fingers in many pies, well connected

with the business and political inner circles. He didn’t find any obvious hints of scandals,

but he did discover that his wife had died while Elina was still a baby, in a hit and run

accident that was never solved. He didn’t make anything of that, but tucked it away for

future reference.

He followed up with a few more of Ian’s friends, not finding anything new. Not having a

phone number for Elina, he tried her first at Jazy Enterprises. They told him she was

unavailable, but refused to say if that meant she was there and busy or if she were gone.

His usual dogged charm failed to elicit any further information from the humorless

receptionist at the front desk. She sent him away with a cold look that suggested she’d

call out the dogs, or at least one of the beefy security guards he noticed hanging around in

the lobby. He wondered what kinds of enterprises Jazy Enterprises was involved in that

required that level of vigilance.

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He had similarly been unable to find a home address for Elina, but had found one for her

father. So he drove out to the exclusive estate section of town. He parked across the

street from the address, pulling off the side of the road in the grass of what looked like a

nature preserve. From what he could see of Jazy’s house, it was an old money home,

built in the day when being ostentatious meant copying European mansions rather than

more recent wave of cookie-cutter houses that simply piled on more rooms, more

swimming pools, more everything to see who could have the most square footage. The

stone wall that surrounded it only allowed a brief glance through the driveway gates, and

he saw that the two security guards were already watching him, apparently not happy

about an unexpected car sitting across the street. He got out of the car and walked over to

the gate.

One of the guards strolled over to meet him. He was a large man in a uniform, with a

fully equipped belt rack. About all that was missing was an AK-47, and Joe had the

sense that they had those stashed out of sight in the guardhouse, along with a bazooka or

two. Neither guard looked like the kind of rent-a-cop whose main job is keeping

teenagers from t-ping the house. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’d like to see Elina Jazy,” Joe said politely.

The guard looked over at the second guard, but Joe didn’t catch either of their

expressions. “She’s not here, sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” The guard’s tone brooked no disagreement.

“So she does live here?”

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That caught the guard off balance, and again he looked over at the other guard for

direction. He roused himself and came over to join his companion. “How can we help

you, sir?”

“I told your partner here, I’m looking for Elina Jazy.”

“She’s not here.”

“But she lives here, right?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.” The guard was doing his best to be polite, but he was also resting a

free hand on the pistol that was strapped to his belt. Nothing overtly threatening about it,

but letting Joe know all the same that he was outmatched here.

“How about her father?”

The guards looked at each other, then back at him with narrowed eyes. “I mean, he lives

here, right?” Joe asked reasonably. “Can I see him?”

The guards looked at each other once again, this time with more worried expressions.

“And who would you be?”

“My name is Joe Russell,” Joe said formally. He decided to bring out the big dogs. “I’m

here to see Mr. Jazy about the murder of my brother, Ian Russell.”

The guards conferred between themselves in whispers, then one of them went over to the

guard’s station and got on the phone. He spoke furtively, looking over at Joe a couple

times as he apparently described him to the party on the phone. Finally he got off the

phone and whispered to his partner. Much to Joe’s surprise, they then opened the gate.

“Come on in. Mr. Jazy will see you.”

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“Thanks.” He started to walk up the driveway, only to be restrained by a hand on his

arm.

“I’ll drive you up.” The guard didn’t look happy about it. He looked like he wished Joe

would try to break away and give him a chance for some target practice.

Joe protested that he could walk the quarter mile or so to the house, but the guard was

insistent. He drove Joe up to the house -- if you could call something this big a house --

in a covered golf cart, and deposited him at the front door, which opened as soon as Joe

reached it. Another large man, this one attired in a butler’s uniform, took over and led

him to a closed door. The butler’s uniform was well tailored but the man still managed to

look ridiculous in it, like a boxer wearing a dress. He knocked, then opened the door to

the study and ushered Joe in.

Marko Jazy was seated behind his desk in his study. He did not stand to greet Joe, but

gestured that Joe should take a seat. Joe noticed a second man sitting on a couch. The

man smiled at him mirthlessly. Joe took one of the seats indicated, taking in a good look

of the room at the same time. He thought it was some kind of joke. It was what rooms

like this looked like in the movies, not someplace where someone really lived. Only the

desk really seemed to reflect the man in front of him. His first impression of Marko Jazy

was of a shark – dark, menacing, and always on the prowl for his next victim. That he

could do so while sitting still behind a desk was remarkable. He did not have as much of

a chance to get a good look at the man behind him, but he saw enough to not like that he

was behind him.

“What can I do for you, Mr. …” Jazy said gravely, making steeples with his fingers.

“Russell, Joe Russell,” Joe filled in. “I take it you are Marko Jazy? And I didn’t catch

your friend’s name.” He pointed his head in Gaines’ direction.

Jazy ignored him. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Joseph Russell?”

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“I’m here about my brother. Ian Russell.”

Jazy’s face showed confusion. He looked over at Gaines for confirmation. Gaines

shrugged his ignorance as well. Jazy gave Joe a pained look. “I’m sorry, I don’t know

an Ian Russell either. What does all this have to do with me?”

“You may have read about my brother recently. He was murdered last week. It was in

all the papers.” Joe kept his tone level.

Jazy looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve really been quite busy, and, anyway, I don’t

generally read the local crime news.”

Gaines leaned forward. “Marko, I think this was that drug killing we saw on TV.”

Jazy’s face showed some recognition.

Keeping the annoyance out of his voice, Joe corrected him. “It wasn’t a drug killing.”

He gave Gaines a searching look, which Gaines coolly returned. Joe looked back at Jazy,

who had been observing the exchange closely.

Jazy nodded noncommittally. “I still am not sure what this has to do with me.”

“I have reason to believe my brother may have been dating your daughter.”

Jazy leaned back in his chair, but looked steadily at Joe. “I think not. My daughter and I

are very close, and I’m sure I’d have known if she were dating someone.”

Joe held the stare. “Perhaps we could ask your daughter.”

Jazy smiled and raised his hands. “We could, but she is out of the country,” he told Joe

apologetically. “She has been for several weeks.”

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Joe thought about the witnesses who had linked Ian and Elina together. “They were

together at a gala a few weeks ago.”

Jay’s face showed recognition. “Oh, yes. She came with me, of course. He must have

been one of the young men who danced with her. I would hardly call that dating.”

“Perhaps they saw each other after that,” Joe suggested.

Jazy shook his head. “She left the next day, and has not been back since. So, you see, I

don’t think there is anything to your theory.”

Joe was going to bring up their being seen at Darci’s, but for some reason decided to hold

that back. “Perhaps not, Mr. Jazy.”

“I remember now about this murder,” Jazy said thoughtfully. He continued to watch Joe

intently. “I gathered your brother got mixed up in something he shouldn’t have.”

“In over his head,” Gaines echoed, doing his best Ed McMahon impression.

“Exactly. From what I gathered – from watching the news, of course -- your brother was

a, shall we say, impulsive young man.” He paused to see Joe’s reaction. “I’m sure my

daughter would not have anything to do with such a young man.” Jazy stood, ending the

meeting. “You’ll excuse me now.”

Joe stood as well. It was clear Jazy wasn’t going to help. If he was right about his

daughter being out of town, there wasn’t much left to pursue. Still, he wasn’t sure why

Jazy had felt compelled to disparage Ian. He didn’t like Jazy, didn’t like anything about

him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he sensed that his initial impression of

Jazy being as cold-blooded and ruthless as a shark might have been accurate.

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He started to walk towards the door. Gaines was watching him with a not-quite

suppressed smile that bothered Joe. Just as he reached the door, Jazy’s voice stopped

him. “Mr. Russell?”

He turned back to Jazy.

“Your brother thought he was someone he wasn’t. I trust you are more prudent. You

should go back to your family in Philadelphia and let the police take care of this mess

your brother got himself into. I’m quite sure they’ll find a culprit.” He flashed a sudden

smile, which was scarier than his serious look. “Who knows? Perhaps I’ll hire you as an

accountant someday.”

In that instant, Joe knew. It wasn’t that Jazy knew he was from Philadelphia and was an

accountant, although if Jazy’s story were true he wouldn’t have any reason to know either

of those facts. It wasn’t that at all. It was the cold-hearted look of satisfaction in Jazy’s

eye that convinced Joe that Jazy was responsible for Ian’s death. It didn’t make any

sense, not yet, but it would by the time Joe was through.

Joe pretended to take Jazy’s advice seriously. He nodded his head in agreement.

“Perhaps someday you’ll be successful enough to afford me, Mr. Jazy,” he said, and

walked out of the room.

Chapter 41

Joe refused the ride down to the gates, and walked along the long driveway thoughtfully.

The guard insisted in driving along with him, glowering at Joe the entire time. Joe used

the walk to take in the sights, checking out the scenery and observing the angles, just in

case. When he got to his car he sat for a few minutes longer, causing the two guards to

congregate on their side of the gate and keep him under close watch. He had several

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decisions to make and was processing his options rapidly, although an observer would

have just thought him to be sitting quietly.

The son-of-a-bitch had killed Ian, Joe thought to himself. He’d killed him and he thought

he was going to get away with it. He was so cocky about it that he thought he could scare

Joe away with impunity. Jazy must have tried to scare Ian away about something, failed,

and killed him as a result. Joe just needed to find out why, then figure out how to make

sure Jazy paid for it.

When he was ready he started his car and drove off with a cheerful wave to the puzzled

guards. He drove back towards downtown, deliberately not returning the way he had

come. He picked a phone booth at random and dialed a number he had not called in

several years. “You know who this is,” he asserted without preamble and without

otherwise identifying himself.

“I do,” the person on the other end of the line acknowledged. He did not identify himself

either.

“I need a favor.”

The man neither agreed nor disagreed, but his remaining on the line signaled his assent.

Joe proceeded to describe why he was calling and what he needed to know. The man

listened, asking a few clarifying questions, and told Joe he’d have something for him

within twenty-four hours. Joe knew that, had he needed it sooner, the man could have

delivered, but this was, after all, a favor. He thanked the man and hung up.

He needed to know more about Jazy and who he was. He suspected there was a lot going

on under those smooth waters, and that somehow it would lead him back to Ian. He also

asked his friend to tell him what he could about Elina, and to put a name to Jazy’s

anonymous companion. There was something disturbing about the man, and if he was

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going to keep after Jazy he knew he’d have to go through the stranger. It was not

something he looked forward to.

Joe was scheduled to meet Reilly and Kincaid at a coffee shop later in the afternoon. He

arrived first, and took a seat facing the door. The two detectives arrived a few minutes

later, Reilly leading the way and already looking none too happy about what he clearly

viewed as a waste of his time. Joe kept an eye on Kincaid. It was the first time he’d seen

her since Sunday night and he wasn’t sure how she would play it. She did surreptitiously

wink at him behind Reilly’s back. “Hello, Mr. Russell,” she greeted him as she and

Reilly sat down, letting him know that, as far as Reilly was concerned, Sunday night

never happened.

“Hello, Detectives,” he said, not missing a beat as he took in her message. “Coffee?”

They signaled the waitress over. She refilled Joe’s cup and got the detectives their own

cups, which they drank with the appreciative taste of people who drink too much bad

coffee too often. “So what can you tell me?”

Reilly looked over at Kincaid with forbearance, then looked back at Joe. “We are

pursing several leads, Mr. Russell. The department is doing all it can to find your

brother’s killer.”

“We have a very promising lead,” Kincaid interjected. Reilly shot her a very annoyed

glance; Joe felt sure she was going to hear about that later.

“Does that have anything to do with that man Walker?”

Now Reilly looked over at Kincaid with raised eyebrows. She hadn’t told Reilly the

source of the tip about Walker, so Reilly now assumed that she’d been feeding Joe

information. It added to the list of complaints he’d have to take up with her later.

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Kincaid pretended to be oblivious to Reilly’s not-so-subtle warning. “We did talk to your

Mr. Walker earlier today,” she admitted.

“And?”

The two partners looked at each other. Kincaid cleared her throat but Reilly beat her to

the reply. “He’s guilty of something all right,” Reilly said with an odd smile.

“What do you mean?” Joe asked, feeling a surge of hope that his efforts had panned out.

“Just not your brother’s death,” Reilly finished.

“We don’t know that,” Kincaid interjected. “His story about how he hurt his leg is crap,

we’re sure of that, but we haven’t been able to connect him up with your brother. He’s a

dead end.”

Kincaid felt sorry for Joe. She’d liked him a lot when he’d come over to her house, ready

to make a deal to get what he needed. He struck her as the kind of guy who would do

what he needed to get done what had to get done. She knew plenty of ruthless people –

her partner included – but Russell had a tender side to him. Most of the cops she worked

with had learned to hide their feelings, so the brutality and tragedy they saw everyday

didn’t affect them. Russell wasn’t like that. She could see he was hurting, that his

brother’s loss meant a lot to him. She could also see that his grief wasn’t going to keep

him from making sure they caught his killers.

She had been excited about the interview with Walker. He was hiding something, not

the least of which was how he had hurt his leg. She got used to people lying to her, and

figuring out why was almost as important as what they were lying about. Now, though,

they were on their way to meet with a caller who had told them enough details that had

not been publicly released to make them believe he had seen the killing. Figuring out

what Walker was lying about would have to wait.

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Joe studied the two of them and had some coffee, not showing any reaction. Reilly

seemed disinclined to add anything further and Kincaid was evidently reluctant to say

anything due to Reilly’s already poor mood towards her. When a few seconds of silence

had passed Joe tried again. “Why do you think he’s a dead end?”

Kincaid let Reilly answer. She’d already decided to call Russell later. “Look, Walker

claims to have hurt his leg playing soccer, and has a couple of friends he claims will

vouch for him. We haven’t run them down yet but we’ll get to it, and I suspect they’ll

give him a pretty good alibi.”

Upon further questioning Joe also learned the name of the company that Walker was

purported to be employed by, as well as the names of the friends whom Walker had said

were with him when he hurt his leg. Like the detectives, he couldn’t see any obvious

connections with his brother, but, unlike them, he was going to see if he could find them.

“So what are these other promising leads you have?”

Reilly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Russell. That’s police business. When we’re at a

point we can disclose it we will.”

Joe thought about Jazy and wondered if they had somehow wandered onto the same line

of inquiry. He somehow doubted it. “Anything I can do to help?”

Reilly wasn’t an unsympathetic man. He could well imagine what Russell was gong

through, and he felt sorry for him. When he first got the case he’d had an open mind to

the various possibilities, and he and Kincaid had pursued them equally. The trail was

now clearly leading him towards some connection to drugs, and the day’s latest turn of

events had solidified his conviction that Russell’s younger brother was not so innocent as

his brother evidently believed. He’d seen it before; the family was always the last to

accept that their loved one had gotten involved with drugs. He couldn’t really help that.

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His job was to find the killers, and he was starting to believe they were getting close.

Reilly shook his head and gulped down the rest of his coffee. “Thank but no thanks.

Feel free to keep checking out your brother’s old girlfriends or whatever, and leave the

real investigating to us.”

Reilly stood up, nearly catching Kincaid by surprise. She quickly took another drink of

her coffee, then stood up. For a second she stood there, while Reilly waited impatiently a

few feet away. She looked at him sympathetically. “We’ll get them, Mr. Russell.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Joe replied. She just gave him a look and walked out

with Reilly.

Chapter 42

“You don’t approve?” Jazy asked Gaines after Russell had left. Gaines was still sitting

quietly on the couch but Jazy had known him long enough to know he was not happy.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Gaines said, standing up and walking to the window. He waited until

Russell came out of the house and started walking down the driveway. Gaines smiled at

how Russell was snubbing his nose at the guards -- and at Jazy by extension -- by

walking down the driveway. “You know, you might have just worn a sign that said: ‘I

killed your damn brother – What are you going to do about it’?”

Jazy smiled and stood up. He walked over to the window, scowling when he saw Russell

walking down the driveway. He turned to face Gaines, who continued to spy on Russell.

“It means nothing, Carl. He’s a fucking accountant. He’s nothing to worry about.”

Gaines shook his head. “Rubbing his nose in it is the kind of thing that could backfire on

you.”

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“A goddamn fucking Quaker accountant.” Jazy was incredulous that Gaines was taking

this so seriously. He had enjoyed showing off how much he knew about Russell, and

screwing with Russell’s head by letting him know that he could reach out to wherever he

wanted to. He wanted to intimidate this Russell so he didn’t end up having to chop off

his balls too.

Gaines watched Russell get in his car and sit idly, wondering what the man was up to.

He watched, with Jazy standing impatiently by his side, until Russell drove away. He

shook his head. “There’s something about this guy that doesn’t feel right.”

Jazy laughed and threw an arm around Gaines’ shoulder. “You’re being paranoid.”

“You pay me to be paranoid.”

“Look, I understand. You underestimated his brother and it became a mess. You’re just

being overcautious so it doesn’t happen this time,” Jazy said soothingly. “Trust me: This

one’s got no heart for a fight. I put a scare into him and he’ll run back to his little

family.”

They stood quietly for a few seconds, then Gaines sat back down in he couch. “The

police talked to Walker today.”

Jazy raised his eyebrows and went back to his desk. He sat on the edge of the couch. He

didn’t like this turn of events, although it was not entirely unanticipated. “They did?

How did they know to do that?”

Gaines shook his head. “I don’t know. A tip, they said.”

“What did he tell them?”

“He claims he stuck to the story.”

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Jazy thought for a few minutes. Russell had been to see Holland as well, and Jazy didn’t

want him poking around any more. There were too many loose ends. He could not

afford to do anything drastic with the other Russell; two brothers being killed would

attract even more attention. Threatening him was as far as he dared go for the time being.

He didn’t like Walker being questioned, and didn’t believe the police had uncovered him

on their own. They were too lazy, and were too busy following easier courses of

investigation. Gaines watched him think, his own thought processes following similar

routes and ending up at the same conclusions.

“Listen, Elina will be home in a couple days,” Jazy stated. “We need this to have blown

over by then. Out of the papers, the police closing down. Most importantly, our friend

Mr. Russell out of town, back to his little family.”

Gaines nodded. “Elina’s coming home?”

“She called me this morning,” Jazy said. “I tried to persuade her to stay over there for a

few more days but she wanted to stop by – probably to see her boyfriend. Only she’s

going to be in for a surprise.”

“I’ll say.”

“She’ll think he’s just another man who left her.”

Gaines grunted, remembering the others who had been persuaded that they weren’t

interested in Elina Jazy.

“Listen, this is what we’ll do. Tell Delray it’s time for him to do his civic duty. Have

him go down to the police today, before our Mr. Russell can stir up any more trouble.”

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Gaines nodded affirmatively. Delray would convincingly confirm the story of Ian

Russell’s having been involved in drugs, and, by the way, remove a drug dealer that was

becoming problematic for Jazy. Delray was an ambitious young man who knew he could

profit in the long term by helping Jazy out now.

Almost as an afterthought, Jazy added. “Oh, and pay Walker a visit.”

Gaines grinned wolfishly. “Glad to.”

It was early in the evening when Gaines let himself quietly into Walker’s apartment. He

stood inside the door and listened. He heard the sound of a television blaring in one

room, and a radio or CD playing elsewhere. More importantly, he detected the sound of

water swirling and smiled. Walker was giving himself a bath. Gaines got an idea.

He made his way silently to the bathroom, making sure the apartment was otherwise

empty. The music was coming from the bathroom, and from an angle Gaines saw that

Walker had brought in a portable CD player and perched it on the edge of the vanity

while he was taking a bath, his injured legs resting on the edge of the tub. It was heavily

wrapped, and no doubt significantly hampered Walker’s mobility. Perfect, Gaines

thought to himself. He smiled impishly as he thought of what he was going to do next.

He moved slowly to the doorway. Walker was sitting with his eyes closed in the

steaming water and didn’t notice him at first. He almost jumped out of the water when he

caught sight of Gaines. “Goddamn it! What the fuck are you doing here?” He

frantically covered his genitals with a free hand, not sure whether to be scared or angry.

“Hey, Herman, take it easy,” Gaines said reassuringly. He moved over to the sink and

leaned casually against it. “Marko wanted me to check in with you.”

“You could have knocked,” Walker pointed out indignantly.

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Gaines nodded. “Yes, but I figured I’d save you the trip.” He gestured towards Walker’s

leg. “Still hurting you, I guess.”

“It’s fucked up pretty bad.” Walker was starting to relax after his initial shock at having

Gaines appear unbidden in his bathroom doorway. He never liked seeing Gaines, and

having him show up when he was naked in his bathtub with a bad leg made him all the

more nervous. “So Marko is worried about me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gaines said, considering. He looked hard at Walker. “He’s especially

worried about what you told the police today.”

Now Walker was beginning to get nervous again. “I told them the story we agreed on,

and I stuck to it. All the boys have to do is back me up and we’ll be fine.”

“Maybe.”

“Now, you know – and Marko knows – that I’d never tell them anything.”

Gaines shook his head. “That’s the thing, Hector, you’re too stupid to know if you’re

telling them anything or not. I never liked you, you know?”

Walker glared at him. Gaines’ constant refusal to use his correct name was a source of

much irritation to him. It showed a lack of respect. He’d always done everything Jazy

had asked, enthusiastically and willingly, and he deserved better treatment from Gaines.

Gaines always made it seem like he was better somehow -- in every way, in fact -- and

Walker hated him for it. “Why don’t you just get the hell out of here and let a man take a

bath on his own, you faggot. You just enjoying the view?” he taunted Gaines.

Gaines shook his head sadly. “Not much to see, is there?” he noted. He pushed off of the

sink. “All right, I’ll be going then.”

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He started towards the door and Walker started to relax, although he kept a close eye on

Gaines. His heartbeat started pumping more rapidly when Gaines stopped at the door and

turned back around. “Hey, can you hear that all right?” He pointed towards the CD

player.

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m thinking it’s too low. Here, let me get it.” He moved closer to the sink.

“It’s fine,” Walker emphasized again, just wanting Gaines out.

Gaines pretended to fiddle with the controls, enjoying Walker’s discomfort and knowing

these were the last few seconds of Walker’s life. He sighed dramatically. “Hell, I can’t

get it. I guess I’ll have to move it closer…”

With that he swept the CD player into the water, making sure that he didn’t cause it to

become unplugged along the way. Walker screamed and immediately began to twitch in

agony as the electricity and the water met. He rattled in his death throes until the circuit

blew and everything went dark. Gaines watched in amusement. Where most people

might have looked away or been transfixed in horror, Gaines watched like it was a

particularly enjoyable situation comedy. He didn’t mind inflicting pain and he definitely

was pleased to get rid of the annoying Walker. He had been almost sorry about the

torment that he’d had to help inflict on Russell. The kid had been gutsy, and he would

have killed him quickly had it been left up to him. But Russell had unwittingly – or

perhaps not so unwittingly – insulted Jazy and Jazy was not the type of guy who put up

with insults.

Walker, though, he would have been happy to kill slowly, except they needed it to look

like a suicide or an accident. Gaines was good at making death come in whatever flavor

it needed to. The police would be happy to close the books on this one quickly.

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When things had subsided, Gaines checked Walker’s pulse to make sure he was dead,

then coolly slid him under the water just to make sure. He let himself out.

Chapter 43

The rest of the day, Joe turned his considerable attention to learning more about Marko

Jazy. He read the press clippings and tracked his business dealings, finding Jazy popping

up in surprising places.

He called home before their dinner time, and had a brief respite from his concerns while

he talked to Doug and Melissa. Initially they were slightly wary, still conscious of the

funeral and Ian’s death, but quickly the conversations turned to their own lives. They had

moved on, and were focusing on their insular world with the intensity that only children

can have. He enjoyed listening to their enthusiasms, with their little victories and

agonizing defeats. For a few minutes his life was back to that world, where problems

could be solved with time, a few wise words, and a band-aid or two. When Debbie got

on the phone she was in a hurry to make their dinner, and they agreed she would call him

back later.

Joe didn’t feel like going out for dinner, although there were some of Ian’s restaurants

left to check out. He found a menu from a Chinese restaurant on Ian’s refrigerator, and

ordered a delivery. As luck would have it, the delivery person remembered Ian well from

numerous deliveries. He was surprised to be making a delivery to Ian’s house,

remarking nervously that he knew it was too soon for someone else to have moved in. It

reminded Joe how little time had actually passed in the bigger world; just a few days,

really, but a life’s difference to Joe. The deliveryman offered his condolences and

appeared genuinely sorry about Ian’s death. It reminded Joe how Ian had casually

affected the lives of the people around.

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Debbie called back a couple hours later, ready for bed. He pictured her there, sitting

there on the bed in her long t-shirt. She’d have her glasses on. If he were there they’d sit

and read for a few minutes, the television quietly babbling with whomever Letterman had

on that night. They’d read until one of them got too tired, then she’d curl up against him.

He never got tired of that physical closeness, of how she liked to sleep close to him. It

was as if the touch of his body against hers was necessary for her sleep, like a small child

with a blanket or a favorite stuffed animal. It made him smile just to think of it; not many

things about her reminded him of a small child or of needing things.

“Hey, there,” she said casually.

“Hey, there yourself.”

They caught up on normal adult things – bills, happenings with friends and neighbors, a

symposium she was preparing for later in the week. He didn’t bring up what his day had

been like; he wasn’t sure he’d know what to say. Instead, when the conversation paused

for a moment, he told her simply, “I miss you.”

Debbie had to catch her breath for a second, the lump in her throat and the sudden rush of

tears in her eyes making her unable to reply immediately. For a second she thought she

might be overcome by the power of her emotions. “I miss you too,” she admitted.

Now it was Joe’s turn to pause while he struggled to stay in control. “I wish I were

there.”

“So come home.”

There it was. Such a simple request, and so eminently logical. “I wish I could,” he said

softly.

“I know.”

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“I miss you. I miss the kids, I miss being home. But I’m sitting in Ian’s house,

surrounded by his stuff and his memories.”

“It must be hard,” Debbie interjected quietly, imagining him all alone in Ian’s townhouse.

She knew he would never admit to being lonely or to feeling the ghosts all around him,

but she also knew those feelings were there.

“It’s funny. I know more about his life than I ever have. I’ve talked to his friends, his

co-workers. I’ve met a bunch of his girlfriends. I know when he played softball, where

he had his shirts done, where he liked to eat. Hell, tonight I talked to the guy who used to

deliver Chinese food to him. I know all these things about his life, things I didn’t know

before.”

“Any surprises?”

Joe smiled ruefully to himself. “No, actually not. He’s pretty much what I thought he

was like. And, you know, I liked who he was. I’m sorry I didn’t get to spend more time

with him before…”

“I know, dear, I know. I’m sorry too.”

Joe continued, his voice low to keep from choking up. “I’m sorry the kids won’t get to

know him better. I’m really sorry he won’t get to have a family himself. He’d have

turned up to be a good husband, a good father.” There were tears in Joe’s eyes.

“Like you,” Debbie said simply.

Joe shook his head to clear his thoughts. “And some son-of-a-bitch thinks he can kill my

brother, take all these things away, and get away with it.”

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Debbie had known Joe a long time. She was a smart woman. More importantly, she’d

loved him in thick or thin, and had learned to read the dark silences in him better than

anyone else, perhaps better than he could himself. “You know something, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Joe’s answer was automatic and too quick, almost protesting.

“You do, don’t you?”

Joe paused, letting it sink in. Once he admitted this, his course was irrevocable. Until

now it had been a hunch, something he was including in his range of possibilities. His

subconscious had been working furiously since his meeting with Jazy, absorbing the

details of that conversation with everything else he had learned. “Maybe.”

Debbie knew that “maybe” meant “yes” in Joe’s terse language, and was silent for a few

seconds. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Joe smiled a wry smile. “You worried about me?”

“Of course I am,” she admitted matter-of-factly. “I’m worried about what you’re going

to do with what you know. I want to you to come back to us.”

“I will,” he promised, hoping he would be able to keep it. Debbie, on her end, heard the

reservation in his voice. She knew he meant it, but also she knew that he was going to do

whatever he had to do to bring his brother’s killers to justice, whatever the cost.

Chapter 44

The next morning Joe was sitting in Ian’s kitchen thinking. His contact had called, as

expected, and told Joe quite a lot about Mr. Marko Jazy. He was not, indeed, simply the

tough businessman that people thought him to be. His life was quite a bit darker and

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more hidden than polite society could have imagined. Joe still didn’t have any smoking

guns linking Jazy to Ian, but his impression – gained from his few minutes with the man

-- was that Jazy was the kind of person who could torture and kill someone who got in his

way looked like it was correct.

The daughter was the key somehow. He knew that Jazy had lied to him about how long

she had been in Europe. She would have had plenty of time to get to know Ian after their

meetings at the opening and at Darci’s. Both Holland and Jazy had lied to him about Ian

knowing her, and he needed to know why. Most importantly, he now knew she had been

in Florida in the same place and at the same time as Ian’s weekend there. Ian had come

back from that weekend telling Hank Meyers that he might be in love, and Joe didn’t

think it was just a coincidence that she had been there as well. He needed to find her and

talk to her.

The phone interrupted his reverie. “Listen, Joe,” Juanita Kincaid said. Her voice was

muffled, as though she were trying not to be overheard. “If I were you, I might want to

come down to the station this morning.”

“Why’s that?”

“You might be interested in hearing what someone we’ve been interviewing has to say,”

she said. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Hear what?”

“Exactly. But get over here soon.”

Thirty minutes later he was sitting in Lieutenant Andrews’s office, surrounded by

Kincaid, Reilly, and an ADA named Birdsong. Andrews was Kincaid and Reilly’s

superior, a thirty-year policeman, bulky but with his considerable muscle starting to go to

fat. He had lost most of the hair on his head yet perpetually looked like he needed to

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shave. Birdsong, on the other hand, was in his thirties, sharply dressed and always on the

lookout for an angle. Within a couple minutes of meeting him Joe figured that Birdsong

was either going to be a politician or a rich defense attorney, maybe both. Prosecuting

Ian’s killers would be exactly the kind of case that got the kind of headlines he was

looking for.

“So you’ve got a witness of some sort?” Joe asked innocently. He’d come to the office

under the pretext of just checking in on their progress.

“Yeah,” Reilly admitted. “We told you yesterday that we were following a good lead.

This guy can place a suspect with your brother, both on occasions before his death and at

the murder.”

“That does sound promising,” Joe said mildly. It also sounded a little too good to be true,

especially since he knew what line of investigation they had been following. “Let me

guess -- your witness is a drug dealer of some sort.”

The rest of the room exchanged glances, no one wanting to answer. Finally Kincaid took

pity on him. “Mr. Russell, our witness confirms your brother’s involvement in drugs.

I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but it looks pretty sure like he was killed in a dispute

with the man who was selling him the drugs.”

Joe nodded his head at this, but kept his gaze on the Lieutenant. “I see. I don’t suppose I

could talk to this witness of yours.”

Andrews cleared his throat. “Mr. Russell, we can’t let you do that.”

Joe pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I didn’t think so. But surely you could let me watch as

you interview him?” Joe turned to Birdsong. “I’m guessing Mr. Birdsong here has to go

through his story a few more times before he can make whatever deals you’re going to

make to get the man he claims killed Ian. Surely I could listen in.”

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“No can do,” Birdsong said flatly. “We’ll try to keep you in the loop as things develop,

but we can’t let you get that involved in the investigation.”

Joe looked like he was thinking about it like a reasonable person. He kept his eyes on the

edge of the Andrew’s desk. He was silent for several seconds, to the point where the

others in the room started to get restless. They coughed nervously and began to fidget.

Finally Joe started nodding his head slightly, thinking to himself and making a decision

of some sort. He sighed and looked up at Andrews. “Can I use your phone?” he asked

quietly. Andrews nodded in surprise.

Joe dialed a number. “General Giles? It’s Joe Russell. Listen -- I need a favor. I’m

sitting here in the office of a Lieutenant Andrews. They’ve got a witness to Ian’s death

and they don’t seem to want to let me know what is going on. Can you help?”

Joe listened to Giles respond, then hung up the phone. He looked up at the room of

people, pretending to be surprised to find them in the same room. “He said he’ll call

back.”

No one quite knew how to respond to that. They all sat there not speaking. Only Joe

knew whom he had called, and everyone else thought it ludicrous to expect that Joe’s call

was going to bring any results. Still, he was the grieving family, and he sat there

watching the phone seeming confident that it would ring, so they waited with him.

Kincaid felt sorry for him. Andrews was a good boss, and he kept his detectives as free

as could be expected from external pressure. If Russell thought he was going to get

someone to persuade Andrews to let him further in the investigation, he was sadly

mistaken. Andrews didn’t take well to that kind of interference. Birdsong was

ambitious, so maybe he could be manipulated, but Andrews was a tough nut. She

watched Andrews begin to simmer with anger as the minutes clicked off. Once he started

to say something, but Russell raised a quieting finger that – curiously enough – silenced

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him, although it just increased the build-up of his anger. She was not eager to see it

erupt, especially at the grieving Joe Russell.

What no one knew, although Joe suspected, was that General Giles had immense clout.

Whether he politely asked for a favor or more forcefully gave the Mayor an ultimatum

was a matter best left between the two of them, but suffice it to say that within three

minutes of Joe’s call the Mayor was dialing the Police Commissioner with some stern

directives of his own.

Andrews’ phone rang within ten minutes. Andrew was startled, and looked at Birdsong.

Birdsong was similarly surprised, but hid it better. He nodded his head, and Andrews

picked up the receiver. He didn’t get much of a chance to talk, as the loud voice on the

other end of the line cutting him off anytime he started to interrupt. Finally Andrews

hung up the phone. His face was red with frustration his voice betrayed his anger. “That

was the Police Commissioner. The Major called him to inform him that Mr. Russell here

will get access to any and all information about his brother’s case. If he wants to listen in

to our interrogation of Mr. Lopez, he can do that. Is that clear?”

Having important friends helps. The Mayor’s call to Commissioner had turned up the

heat in no uncertain terms. Andrews had received the scalding end result of that heat.

The room was quiet. Birdsong cleared his throat. “You know, I hate to break it to

everyone, but I don’t work for either the P.C. or the Mayor, and I’m interviewing the

witness. I’ll decide who gets to watch.”

The room went silent for a second. Kincaid thought “oh, shit” to herself. Joe just looked

at Birdsong and locked him in a firm stare. He was not in the mood to bargain. “Oh,

yeah? OK, who do you work for?”

Birdsong suddenly found himself calculating the possible reach of Russell’s friends, and

his own political future. That phone call had come back too quickly for comfort. He was

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afraid if he challenged Russell he’d find himself talking to the Attorney General or

maybe a Supreme Court Justice. It only took him a couple seconds to make a decision.

“All right. You can listen.”

That matter settled, they all adjourned to the interview room. Everyone but Birdsong

took positions in the viewing room, behind the one-way mirror. Birdsong waited until

they brought the witness in the room, along with his lawyer. The witness was a tall,

good-looking young man, a mixture of many origins. He smiled and waved at the mirror,

knowing he was being watched, then sat down. His lawyer was an older man, well

dressed and prosperous. Birdsong joined him in the room, but did not sit down. He put

his notes on the table across from Lopez and started making conversation with the

lawyer, agreeing on the ground rules. Lopez would get a reduced sentence if he was able

to give them enough information to convict.

The interview was difficult for Joe to listen to. Lopez spoke confidently about times Ian

had met with Lopez’s boss, a man named Michael Waterstone, to buy drugs. Lopez

knew all about the apartment that Ian had supposedly rented as his drug nest, describing

the layout and even where they had found the money and drugs. Then, in harrowing

detail he described the killing. Joe paid especially close attention to this part, fighting

back his tears of frustration at not being able to stop the murder from happening.

Lopez had told them where the bolt-cutter and bats had been disposed of. His disclosure

of the location of the bolt-cutter was the first solid proof he had offered to the detectives,

and it had already been found in the dumpster that Lopez had promised it would be in.

At this moment was being tested by the forensic unit. The bats were supposedly in the

trunk of Waterstone’s car, and Kincaid told Joe that after this interview Birdsong was

going to get a search warrant for it. If they found them, they’d arrest Waterstone.

Joe was flipping through the police reports as Lopez told his story, trying to catch up on

all the details as he gauged Lopez’s credibility. He had to admit that Lopez’s story

seemed to be consistent with all the physical evidence the police had managed to

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accumulate. He read with particular interest the coroner’s report. “Can we send in

questions?” Joe asked. The others looked at him in surprise.

“We can send in a question if it is important,” Andrews decided. “What do you have in

mind?”

Joe looked through the glass at Lopez. If he didn’t have a good reason to doubt him, he

would have found Lopez a very credible witness. Lopez would play well to the jury,

especially since he had voluntarily surrendered. He was either sorry for what he had

gotten involved in, or a very good liar. Joe had no doubts what he thought. “Ask him

about the bats.”

The three cops looked at each other with some puzzlement. “He told us about the bats,”

Reilly said. “Kincaid and I will personally go get them and arrest that SOB Waterstone

as soon as this is over.”

Joe shook his head. “No. Ask him what kind of bats they were.”

“What do you mean, what kind of bats?” Kincaid asked.

“You know, metal or wood. It’s a simple question. If he was one of the guys swinging

away at my brother you’d think he would know a detail like that, right?”

Kincaid looked at Andrews, who thought for a long second. He nodded his head and

spoke softly into a microphone. Birdsong was wearing a small earpiece, but showed no

visible reaction to the question. He finished whatever he was saying before shooting a

curious look at the mirror. He then asked Lopez to describe the bats.

Lopez seemed surprised. “What do you mean? They were baseball bats, man. You

know, Barry Bonds kind of baseball bats.”

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Birdsong leaned a leg on the edge of the table. “Were they wooden bats, metal bats,

both?”

Lopez looked at Birdsong like it was a trick question. “Man, what kind of question is

that? I told you about the damn bats – you can go find out for yourself what kind of bats

they were.”

“I know, but I just want to make sure what we’re looking for. Metal or wood? It’s a

simple question.”

Lopez looked over at his lawyer, who nodded his head. “Just tell him.”

Lopez looked grudgingly at Birdsong. “Umm, both, man. There were metal bats and

there were wood bats.”

Joe sat impassively. When the interview was over he excused himself, declining their

offer to wait for them to return from their visit to Mr. Waterstone.

Chapter 45

Later that night Kincaid called Joe at Ian’s house. “Joe, it’s Juanita.”

“Hi, Juanita.”

“We got him,” she told him with satisfaction. “We found the bats just like Lopez had

said, and arrested Waterstone. They’re holding him without bail.”

“I know. Andrews let me know earlier today.”

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“I was thinking maybe I could buy you a drink or something. You know, to celebrate

catching him and all.”

Joe smiled wanly to himself. “I don’t much feel like celebrating, but I’d be happy to

meet you somewhere. How about Darci’s?”

They joined up at Darci’s forty-five minutes later. She was still dressed in the same

pantsuit she had been wearing that morning; evidently she had been busy. She spotted

him sitting at a small table in back and made a beeline towards him through the oblivious

crowd. She flashed him a warm smile. “I’m glad you came.”

He smiled back at her, perhaps more sympathetically than warmly. “I thought you might

be out with the rest of your buddies celebrating your arrest. I’m sure it is a big deal.”

Kincaid lost her smile for a second, but looked at him without embarrassment. “I had a

couple drinks with the rest of the task force, but I wanted to go home.”

He gestured at the nightclub. “Not exactly home, is it?”

Now she blushed slightly. “Well, I wanted to see how you were too.”

The waitress came and took their order. Kincaid had a martini, while Joe ordered a soda.

Kincaid raised her eyebrows at his order, and after the waitress left asked him about it.

“Keeping your wits about you?”

Joe laughed. “Always.”

They watched the crowd until the waitress returned with their drinks, then each took a

sip. “Why did you ask that about the bats today?” Kincaid asked.

“They were wood, weren’t they?”

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Kincaid shifted positions on her chair uneasily. “Well, we only found wooden ones, but

figure maybe they got rid of the metal ones. It’s not a big deal. Why did you want to ask

about them?”

Joe stared down at his drink. “The autopsy indicated wooden slivers, so I knew there had

to be wooden bats.”

“That doesn’t mean there weren’t metal ones as well,” Kincaid protested.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joe said quietly. He raised his eyes to look directly at her. “It didn’t

really matter. I just wanted to see if he knew a detail like that. Something maybe he

wasn’t prepared for.”

Kincaid’s jaw dropped open slightly, which made Joe smile slightly. “You don’t think

Lopez is telling the truth?”

Joe shook his head. “I’m sure he’s lying. He’s a very good liar, but he’s lying

nonetheless.”

“He knows all the right things. He couldn’t have guessed all the details he knew. We

have Waterstone dead to rights on this.”

Joe took a long sip from his drink. “He couldn’t have guessed it all, but he could have

been briefed by someone who was there. I was looking for things he might have not been

ready for.”

“And the bats were what made you think all this?”

Joe shook his head sadly. “No, it was earlier, when he said Ian was crying and begging

for mercy. I think Lopez made that up, just to show how tough he was himself.”

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Kincaid raised her hands beseechingly. “Joe,” she said softly. “You have to remember.

Your brother would have been in a lot of pain. He was surrounded by bad, bad guys,

being severely beaten, with no way out. It’s no disgrace if he broke.”

“You didn’t know Ian,” Joe said quietly but with utter certainty.

Kincaid backed off and they sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the music and

pretending they weren’t commiserating over the death of his brother. She looked out at

the crowd, at all the happy young people mingling with no thoughts of death or murder,

thinking of nothing worse than possible rejection or perhaps sleeping with the wrong

person. It was a world she’d never really lived in. She made fun of the regular citizens

sometimes, but part of her wished she could live in their world at least some of the time,

like on a date or something. Perhaps that was why she was here with Joe Russell. He

might be visiting her dark world due to his brother’s death, but she knew he really lived

in that simpler, happier world. Unlike the rest of the unsuspecting people, though, she

suspected he could travel back and forth between the two worlds and not be out of place

in either. It was a gift she lacked.

Joe watched her watching. “You want to know something funny?” Joe asked after a

while.

Kincaid jumped slightly, startled by his question and half-fearing that he could tell what

she had been thinking. She regained control and looked over at him. “Sure.”

Joe gestured to the nightclub. “You know, Ian used to hang out here a lot, I gather. I’ve

visited lots of places he hung out. And you know what?”

“What?” Kincaid felt her detective’s instincts rising.

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“This is the only place that they’ve never heard of Ian. Not Holland, not the bartenders,

not the waitresses. Don’t you think that’s kind of funny?”

“Huh,” Kincaid said, almost to herself.

“I mean, you didn’t know Ian, but he wasn’t someone people didn’t notice, or someone

that people forgot. He had that gift.”

“Yeah, I got that sense from interviewing people,” Kincaid agreed.

“Except here.”

That reminded Kincaid of something she’d meant to tell Joe. “Hey, you want to hear

something else funny?”

Joe raised an interested eyebrow. Kincaid cocked her head conspiratorially. “Remember

that guy Walker that you steered us to?”

Joe’s attention immediately surged, but he tried to stay casual. “Yeah, what about him?”

“They found him dead in his bathtub. The poor bastard had a CD player fall in his bath

and electrocuted him.”

Joe took this in, and watched her. “What do you make of that?”

Kincaid shrugged. “Either he was clumsy and it was an accident or he got frustrated

about his leg and killed himself. Either way he’s a dead end, so to speak.” She giggled

as she said that, realizing belatedly that she’d had a little too much to drink. She

shouldn’t have agreed to come here, she realized. He was married, they’d just found the

killer of his brother, and she should be at home sleeping off the alcohol she’d already

had. But he was a long way from home and she’d wanted to share with him her triumph,

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of finding the person responsible for his brother’s death. Now she wasn’t so sure it had

been a good idea. Still, she liked sitting here with this strong, brave man.

“No signs of foul play?” Joe asked carefully.

Kincaid shook her head, partly to clear her head. “No signs of forced entry, no signs of a

struggle. It doesn’t mean anything, Joe. It’s just one of those fluky coincidences that

investigations run into.” She spoke his name a little too tenderly, and decided she’d

definitely had too much to drink. But he didn’t seem to notice. However impaired her

personal judgment might be, her professional curiosity was still intact. “You don’t think

so.”

Joe shook his head. “It’s all a little too neat, don’t you think? All of a sudden you get a

witness who hands you everything on a platter, and the only loose end decides he’s long

enough for this world.”

“Hey, Reilly and I have been out talking to dealers and snitches everywhere,” Kincaid

said hotly. “That’s why Lopez came in. It’s good, solid police work.”

Joe put a calming hand on her arm. “I know. You worked hard on the case. I appreciate

that.”

It was what Russell didn’t say that Kincaid noticed. She didn’t know him as well as

Debbie did, but she was a good detective. Anyway, Joe wasn’t trying too hard to hide his

skepticism. “You still think Ian was set up.”

Joe nodded sadly. “He didn’t have anything to do with drugs, and your killer is being

handed to you on a silver platter. I’m sorry, that’s good for the headlines but I’m going

to keep poking away, if you don’t mind.”

Kincaid smiled. “And even if I do, I suspect.”

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Joe didn’t smile back. “That’s right. Even if you do.”

After a while Kincaid excused herself, citing fatigue and the effects of too much alcohol.

Joe told her he was going to stay for a bit longer. He waited twenty or thirty minutes

after Kincaid had gone, making sure she really had gone. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her

feelings. She had done her best and had been open-minded to his questions and

suggestions, but he could see her position. From the police’s standpoint, they had a nice,

clean case. A few details that didn’t quite fit – like metal bats or a man with a damaged

knee all of a sudden committing suicide – wouldn’t make them think twice. He finished

his drink and headed towards the back.

He found Holland sitting at his desk in his office. “Who the hell are you?” Holland asked

in surprise.

“I think you remember me, Mr. Holland,” Joe answered, sitting down across from him.

“I’d like to continue our conversation about my brother.”

Holland stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, not sure what to make of Joe’s question.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said at last. He pressed the security buzzer under the

desk.

“OK, let’s see. Let’s start with the fact that you not only knew my brother, but were

introduced to him by Elina Jazy.”

“You’re crazy.” Holland shook his head emphatically.

Joe leaned forward. “Mr. Holland, I am many things, but one thing I am not is crazy.

Now, what I want to know is why you lied to me about it.”

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Holland’s eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what Russell might actually know. He’d

been in worse situations than this. He leaned back in his chair. “What makes you think

I’m lying to you?”

Joe shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what makes me think you’re lying. What matters

is why are you lying. So what’s the story?”

Two big men appeared in the door. Holland waved them in. “Bernie, Anton – meet Mr.

Russell. He’ll be leaving.”

Joe wasn’t quite ready to go. He ignored the two new entrants. “The woman I was

with.”

“What woman?”

“You know very well what woman,” Joe said, motioning to the banks of security

monitors by the side of the office. “I think you probably remember her from when she

interviewed you. What do you think the police are doing here again, Mr. Holland?”

Holland kept a poker face. “I heard on the news tonight that they caught your brother’s

killer, Mr. Russell.”

Joe’s face was even more impassive. “You heard wrong, Mr. Holland. And you’re going

to help me prove that.”

“I don’t think so,” Holland said, shaken nonetheless. “Guys, please escort Mr. Russell

out.”

“I’m not ready to go.”

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“I don’t care,” Holland said, leaning back. “Guys, whether he is ready or not, escort his

ass out.”

Joe stood but kept his eyes on Holland. “This isn’t the end of it, Mr. Holland.”

Now that reinforcements had arrived, Holland smiled more easily. “It is for you, Mr.

Russell.”

The two men each put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Come along, sir,” one of them told him

politely. He reluctantly walked out of the office with them. Holland stopped them at the

door. “Guys – take Mr. Russell out the back way. You understand what I mean?”

The bouncers nodded and the younger of them – Bernie – smiled in anticipation. Anton

looked at Joe, then at Bernie and began to think about the lesson Holland wanted this guy

taught. They walked through the kitchen and out the doorway into the alley.

“See you later, guys,” Joe said when they arrived at the alley, noticing that they didn’t

seem to be in any hurry to have him leave.

“We need to talk to you, Mr. Russell,” Bernie drawled. He was about twenty, with the

physique of a football player who had been on steroids a bit too long. Anton was ten

years older, well muscled but not as bulked up. He’d been a bouncer long enough to

prefer fights that never happened; Bernie still liked to start them. By sending them out

the back, Holland had wanted them to send a clear message to this guy that he should

never come back.

Joe pretended to be surprised. “If your boss doesn’t want to talk, I can’t figure you have

too much to say. Maybe I’ll just be going now.” He took a step down the alley, only to

have Bernie push him hard on the shoulder.

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“Not so fast, now, Mr. Russell,” Anton said. “We’ve got a little job here to do and

there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You could just let me walk out of here and tell your boss you kicked the shit out of me.

He’d never know.”

Anton shook his head. “It don’t work that way.”

“Besides, we’d miss all the fun,” Bernie added. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Joe looked at them, first at Anton, then Bernie. He decided that Anton would be harder

to take in a fight, but that Bernie was the troublemaker. He’d want to fight no matter

what. Joe figured he might be able to reason with Anton if Bernie were out of the

picture. He made one last plea for a peaceful solution. “You really don’t have to do

this.”

“We really do,” Bernie said excitedly.

“OK, then,” Joe said. “Have at it.”

Before they could do anything, Joe suddenly punched Bernie hard in the sternum. To do

this properly, one has to know exactly where to hit, and to deliver the blow with

sufficient force. Joe performed excellently on both counts, and the results were

astonishing. Bernie gasped and clutched his chest, first in surprise and then in panic as he

realized he couldn’t breathe. Joe pushed him over with a contemptuous push, then turned

to Anton. Anton still hadn’t moved, his eyes wide in surprise.

“I paralyzed his chest. He can breathe just enough to survive, and in about three minutes

he’ll be breathing normally again.” Joe paused for effect. His tone of voice was calm, as

if he were making casual conversation. “Now, in three minutes one of two things is

going to be true. One is that I’m walking out of this alley. The other is that I’m going to

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have to put your friend down again, this time for good. And if I’m going to have to do

that, I’m going to have to put you down first. So I figure you got about thirty seconds

before you’re down with your buddy there. So what is it, friend – option number one, or

option number two?”

Anton stared at Russell carefully. He’d learned to read people well in his years as a

bouncer, and how to gauge their potential for trouble. He also had learned when to cut

his losses. He looked down at the pitiful Bernie, gasping for breath as he writhed on the

ground. He’d never seen someone dispatched so efficiently. Russell didn’t seem like a

bad guy. Anton didn’t know what beef Mr. Holland had with the guy, but he was glad

Russell wasn’t mad at him. He thought it prudent to keep it that way. “Have a good

night now, sir,” he said respectfully, putting his hands out in a conciliatory gesture and

backing away.

Chapter 46

Joe was tired but flush with adrenaline as he drove back to Ian’s townhouse. Holland

hadn’t really told him anything, except to confirm his suspicion that he was hiding

something. He pulled into the parking lot and was halfway to Ian’s door before he saw

the woman sitting on Ian’s steps. She stood when she saw him and, even in the dark, lit

only by the streetlights, he thought she was quite beautiful. It occurred to him to wonder

what she was doing there.

She was wearing a light summer dress that did nothing to hide her figure. It clung to her

and accentuated all the right features. Dresses like that caused even temperate men like

himself to get ideas. When he quickly ran through the list of women who might be

waiting for him here he immediately settled upon Detective Kincaid – or, rather, Juanita

Kincaid – and a small smile came to his face. He might be married, he might even be

faithful to his wife, but neither meant he couldn’t appreciate the charms of a woman like

Juanita.

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Unfortunately, as he drew a little closer he realized that it wasn’t her. Juanita’s figure

was a little more muscular, a little curvier, and finally could see that the woman in

question was too light-skinned to be Juanita. He frowned, then, and slowed his stride

slightly. A woman waiting on Ian’s steps probably meant she was waiting for Ian, and if

that was true he had some terrible news for her.

Elina’s attention perked up when she saw the car pull into the parking lot, and she stood

up when the man headed to Ian’s door. He had that loose, confident gait that she had

come to love watching so much, so even before he came into the light she spoke up. “So

you’re not dead after all, I guess.”

He stopped upon hearing her speak, and then with a falling heart she realized that it

wasn’t Ian. The stride was right but the build was wrong, all wrong. This man was taller

and larger than Ian had been, and now that she saw his face she realized he couldn’t be

Ian at all. She blushed. “I’m sorry, I mistook you for someone else.”

He was still standing there, not quite taking it all in. “You thought I was Ian.”

She stared back at him, finally realizing who he was, thinking of the picture of a younger

Joe, as the Boy Scout. He was older, of course, but not unrecognizable. Her mouth

dropped in surprise. “You’re the brother. I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Joe.” He still hadn’t moved.

“Joe, that’s right. So where is Ian?”

Joe had been carrying a heaviness since he had learned about Ian’s death, but he had

become almost accustomed to it. Now, though, seeing this woman still expecting Ian to

walk up and greet her as though the world were its old self, made the weight of his grief

almost overwhelming again. “I think you’d better come in the house,” he told her gently.

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Elina knew bad news when she wasn’t being told it. “Where’s Ian?” she asked urgently.

“Please, come in the house.”

She followed him numbly into the house. He directed her to the couch, and sat on the

ottoman a few feet away. “First, who are you?”

She looked at him in surprise. “My name is Elina Jazy. I’m – I guess you would say –

Ian’s girlfriend.”

“So you’re Elina Jazy,” Joe said thoughtfully, more to himself than to her. “I heard you

were out of the country.”

Elina was startled, wondering how he knew that. She figured Ian must have told him

about their trip to Paris. She had been terribly disappointed when he hadn’t come, then

she’d gotten mad, and finally she had cut her trip short to get an accounting of his

absence directly from him. “Please, tell me where Ian is. Is he hurt?”

Joe felt a sadness beyond belief. Ian had been his brother, and – as best he could tell –

Ian and this woman had started something special. Telling her what had happened to Ian

was going to hurt. “Elina, there’s no good way to tell you this. Ian is dead.”

At first, Elina thought he was joking. “Come on. I’ve heard lots of lame excuses from

guys who didn’t want to go out with me, but getting their brother to tell me they were

dead has got to take the cake. Listen, if he got scared and didn’t want to come to Paris

with me, he should have the nerve to tell me himself.”

Joe shook his head sadly. “Elina, look at me.”

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She stopped, almost afraid to do what he said. She looked at him and saw how serious he

was. She remembered what Ian had told her about Joe, and knew he would never help

Ian pull such a practical joke. In that moment, even before he said any further words, she

knew for sure that Ian was dead. Tears started to pour gently onto her cheeks.

As gently as he could, Joe told her about Ian’s death: when he died, when the funeral

was, and – without too many of the gruesome details – how he died.

She sat crying softly but listening carefully and not giving into the panic that threatened

to overcome her. She wanted to break down, to give way to the feelings that she did not

know how to feel, but she managed to stay upright. Joe could see her struggle but at the

same time saw her strength. It was curious, Joe thought. He did believe that Elina was

genuinely surprised about Ian’s death, which he had not been too sure of before he met

her. On the other hand, she was not surprised that something bad had happened – not to

Ian, but to her happiness. She seemed all too used to having happiness snatched away

from her before she got too used to it. He thought that might account for the sadness that

Ian must have seen. Ian had wanted to make her smile, Hank had told him, and watching

her struggle with the bad news – news that no one close to Ian could hear without terrible

pain -- he could see how a man might sacrifice almost anything to bring a smile to that

lovely face.

She was something very special, Joe decided on the spot. He was a good judge of

character, and she was definitely a woman of character. The physical beauty was almost

an insult, made superfluous by the rest of her. Joe wondered what it would be like to

make that face light up with happiness, to see her smile just because you were in the

room. Ian had done that, had seen that. Ian had picked the right woman to fall in love

with, he thought, which really made his death all the more tragic. Why couldn’t Ian have

found her a few months sooner, had a few more months of being with her?

After Joe had finished with as much of the story as he cared to share for the moment, he

paused, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. With other women he might have felt

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the need to go over and comfort them, but she seemed like a rock, not ready to slide into

the comfort of someone’s arms.

At last Elina wiped the tears from her face. “I can’t believe it. Ian was more alive than

anyone I ever met.”

“I know what you mean.”

“We hadn’t known each other very long, but we were in love. At least, I think I loved

him.”

Remembering what Meyers had told him, and perhaps wanting to ease her grief just a

little, Joe told her, “I think he loved you too.”

“I was going to quit my job,” she said mournfully, her head downcast. “I wanted to cut

free from my father, to stop traveling so much.” She raised her head. “He was going to

come to Paris with me. It was going to be so romantic.”

“I knew he had tickets to Paris; I just didn’t know who with. I’m glad it was with you.”

“He bought the tickets?” she asked, raising her head by the unexpected good news. Joe

thought her face showed the same kind of innocent pleasure that he loved seeing in his

kids.

Joe nodded.

Elina’s face lost its momentary good cheer; the news that Ian had made plans to see her

could not outweigh the news of his death. She resumed her sad expression. “When he

didn’t come I thought he was just another guy leaving me, afraid of me or having gotten

what he wanted from me once he’d slept with me a few times. I’m relieved to know he

wasn’t like that, but I wish he didn’t have to die to prove it.”

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They sat in silence a few minutes longer, and her face started to break up into tears once

again. This time he did move over next to her. He put his arm around her and she buried

her head into his chest, then broke into tears. He stroked her back until she’d run her

course. Awkwardly, as they realized they were two strangers surprised to find

themselves in such an intimate embrace, they moved a few inches apart. Elina looked

around Ian’s apartment sadly. “I used to come here late at night, so no one would know.

I’d wait there on the steps like I was waiting tonight, and I’d be so happy when I saw him

walking up towards me. I liked this place. I could see living here.”

Joe didn’t know how to respond to that, so he waited silently. Elina completed her

inspection of the room, and looked down into her lap. “He said he had a good feeling

about things, you know? He told me that a couple of times.” She raised her head and

gave him a rueful smile, one that made him recall what Hank Meyers had said about Ian

wanting to make her smile. Only this wasn’t the kind of smile that Ian would have

wanted to evoke; it conveyed more sadness than words ever could. “I guess he was

wrong.”

Joe exhaled and ran a hand through his hair unconsciously. “He wouldn’t have been Ian

if he hadn’t felt like that. That’s the kind of thing that made him who he was. I don’t

know what his final moments were like, but I’d be willing to bet that right to the end he

was trying to figure out how he was going to get out of it. That’s Ian.”

She didn’t seem quite convinced. “So it didn’t have anything to do with me, really?”

“No, that’s not how you should look at it. Ian chose to be with you, out of all the women

he could have been with. It had everything to do with you.”

Elina looked at him so gratefully that he was momentarily overcome. Still, there were a

few things he needed to know, and he used the moment to press her further. “Elina, I

need to ask you a few questions.”

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Elina appeared confused. “Questions? What kind of questions?”

“Have you talked to your father in the last few days?”

“Several times.”

“He didn’t mention Ian’s death?”

Elina’s eyes started to tear up, but she resisted starting to weep again. “No. If he had I’d

have come straight home. I guess he hadn’t heard.”

“He knows, all right. I told him myself,” Joe said. “In person. I guess he didn’t mention

that fact.”

She shook her head. Her head was spinning; why wouldn’t her father have told her the

news himself?

“Did he know Ian?”

She smiled ruefully at the thought. “They met a couple of times. I think my father

wasn’t too crazy about your brother, to be honest.”

That got Joe’s attention. “What do you mean?”

She described what Ian had told her about the encounters with her father, and Joe had to

smile at the thought of Ian walking out on Jazy in his limo. And this was the guy Delray

Lopez wanted to believe begged for mercy before they beat him to death? Not likely, Joe

thought. He had Elina carefully repeat the last few conversations she had had with Ian.

Ian’s offhand comment about the fifty thousand dollars caught Joe’s interest. That was

the same amount the police had found in that apartment, which seemed uncomfortably

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unlikely to be a coincidence. “What did he mean, he had fifty thousand dollars for a

while? What would he be doing walking around with that kind of money?”

Elina shrugged. “I don’t know. He kind of laughed about it, told me he’d tell me when

he saw me.” Only he never got the chance to do so, she implied but did not say. She saw

that Joe was intrigued by the mention of the money, but already suspected it was not the

money in itself that would appeal to this man. “What is so special about the money?”

Joe reluctantly told her about the money they’d found, along with the drugs and the

apartment. Her mouth gaped at the implication. “Drugs? Are you crazy?” It seemed to

be the common response.

Joe shook his head negatively. “Do you think Ian had anything to do with drugs?” he

asked softly.

She shook her head vigorously. “No way. I mean, you knew your brother longer than I

did, but no way do I see him involved in dealing, doing, or buying drugs.”

Joe looked at her appreciatively. “Me neither.”

He told her the police’s theory of the killing, including the fact that they now believed

they had caught the men responsible for Ian’s death, and was pleased to find that she

found it no more credible than he had. They could parade all the witnesses they wanted

to in front of whatever jury they wanted to, but neither of them would ever accept that Ian

had died as the result of a drug deal gone bad.

Joe looked at her appraisingly. She looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

There were a few more things he needed to know before he let her go. “Elina, you said

something about lame excuses from men. Can you tell me more about your previous

boyfriends?”

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She gave him a brief overview of her spotty romantic history – well, “disastrous” was a

more accurate description. It would have been funny had it ended well, which it hadn’t.

Joe asked her for some names and approximate locations of her previous boyfriends. She

had indeed had poor luck with men, and Joe was beginning to suspect that it might not

just be bad luck. Along the way Elina wistfully told him more about how she and Ian had

met, as well as some of their special times together. “Did you know he played the

piano?” she asked proudly.

“You know, I’d forgotten it, until someone else mentioned it to me a few days ago. I’m

learning a lot about my brother,” Joe said with a sad smile.

“Yet here you are trying to find who might have killed him,” she said thoughtfully.

“Refusing to believe what the police have to say.”

Joe could only shrug. “He’s my brother.”

They ended up talking until late in the night, and the longer he talked to her the more he

liked her and the sadder he felt that Ian had missed a chance at a life with her. “You look

like your photo,” she said at one point, in a tone so tender one might have mistaken it for

a mother’s.

“What photo?”

Without a word, she’d gone into Ian’s study and retrieved the picture of the two of them

those many years ago. She handed it to him and he took it, his expression softening into

a sad smile as he saw what it was. “It was a long time ago. I was a lot younger.” He

brushed the image of the younger Ian, so alive and with so much of his life ahead of him.

His smile gradually slipped away as he thought of the time taken away from Ian. She

took the picture back from him silently, but kept it near her.

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Eventually they ran out of energy, and Joe offered to let her sleep there for the night. It

seemed a little awkward, but since he was sleeping in the guest room she took Ian’s bed,

a bed that she seemed to regard almost superstitiously. She almost refused, but in the end

she agreed, wanting one more night to remember their times in that bed.

In the morning, before she left, he asked her not to mention to her father that he had

already told her about Ian’s death. Joe was kind of interested to hear how Marko Jazy

would try to explain to her why he had neglected to inform her of her lover’s murder.

Chapter 47

Jazy and Gaines were in Jazy’s office the next morning, talking business, when the

security phone rang. Jazy frowned and gave Gaines a questioning look before he picked

it up. He listened to the speaker for a few seconds, his forehead wrinkling as he listened.

Gaines looked at him expectantly. He knew that expression; Marko was not happy.

“Thank you,” Jazy said politely as he hung up the phone. He looked at Gaines. “Elina is

on her way up the driveway.”

“Elina?” Gaines repeated. “I thought she was still in Europe.”

“So did I,” Jazy agreed, the furrows in his forehead deepening. They were silent.

“You don’t think she knows…” Gaines asked after a bit.

Jazy shook his head. “I do not think it is likely, but I think we cannot rule it out. I did

not think she would be here yet.”

“Too bad she came back so soon. The news about Waterstone is just hitting. Another

day or two and it all would have blown over.”

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“A pity,” Jazy agreed. He stood up and went over to the door. There was a knock, and

Elina came in. She was wearing slacks, a blouse and a jacket, and she did not look like

she’d just gotten off of a transatlantic flight. “Elina,” Jazy said, pretending to be

surprised.

“Stop it, father,” she admonished him. “You know perfectly well that the front gate

called you as soon as I was past. Hello, Carl.”

“Ms. Jazy,” he said lazily, touching his forehead in a small salute but not getting up.

Jazy took Elina’s elbow and ushered her over to a sitting area, and sat her down in one of

the chairs. He sat next to her. “What brings you back early? I didn’t expect you for

another few days.”

“Father, why didn’t you tell me about this?” She unfolded a newspaper from under her

arm and handed it to him. Splashed boldly on the front page was a long story about

Waterstone’s arrest, with sidebars recapping the tale of Ian’s murder and the course of the

investigation. If Jazy had had any hopes of her not finding out about Ian Russell’s death,

they were immediately dashed.

“My dear,” he began.

“I mean, we’ve talked several times since Ian was killed,” she interrupted, her tone

indignant. “You didn’t think it was important enough to tell me?”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Jazy told her, looking at Gaines for support.

Gaines fought back a small smile, indicating Jazy was on his own on this one.

“Nothing?” Elina repeated incredulously. “I could have known. I could have come back

for the funeral. I could have not spent the last few days wondering why my lover didn’t

show up when he promised to. I could have – I don’t know.”

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Tears started to form in her face, and her father reached over to take her hand. He patted

it awkwardly, a father not knowing how to comfort his daughter. “My dear, I knew at

once there was something sordid about the whole affair, what with the drugs and all.”

“The newspapers said the police didn’t know about the drugs for a few days, and,

anyway, I don’t believe a word of it.” Elina pulled her hand back.

“Elina,” Gaines said, finally deciding to help. Jazy gave him an it’s-about-time glare.

“They caught the guy who did it. He’s a drug dealer. Your boyfriend was a drug dealer.”

“I warned you about him,” Jazy reminded her.

“Yes, you did,” Elina agreed, her tears drying up. She stood up and went over to the

window. She looked out, not wanting to see them. “None of that excuses you for not

telling me about someone I knew – someone I cared about very much – getting killed.

You should have told me.”

There was silence behind her. “Perhaps,” her father said at last, sounding less convinced

than simply wanting to be agreeable.

She turned towards them. “Did you at least go to the funeral, or talk to his family for

me?”

Jazy shook his head. “I don’t even know if the funeral was here, or who his family was.

We thought the fewer people who knew about your involvement with this drug dealer,

the better. In time you will thank us for that discretion.”

Marko Jazy had made a mistake without realizing it. It wasn’t just that Joe told her that

he’d visited her father and told him the news. The guards and house staff had been firmly

instructed to forget the visit by Joe Russell. What Jazy didn’t know was that one of the

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guards at the front gate had quite a crush on Elina, and had volunteered the fact of Joe’s

visit when she asked him about it as she arrived. She knew her father was lying. What

scared her was that he looked just the same to her as always; there was no difference that

she could detect between him telling the truth and him lying. She had always felt he left

portions of the truth out, either omitting things or shading them carefully for her benefit,

but this was the first time she realized the possible magnitude of his deception. Truth and

falsehood might mean nothing to him – there was only what he wanted someone to know.

At that moment she realized she was frightened of her father.

“Father, I was thinking about my mother,” she said carefully.

“Your mother?” Jazy asked, startled. “Why would you be thinking about her now?”

“I think about her a lot,” Elina murmured, her eyes downcast. She lifted her gaze to look

him directly in the eye. “Tell me again why she went out so late the night she died.”

Elina’s mother – Marko’s wife – had died in a freak accident. Her car was hit broadside

by a stolen truck, crushing the car and killing her instantly. The driver of the stolen truck

had never been identified. Elina had been very young at the time, and her mother’s death

had been very hard on her. Due to the nature of the accident, the casket had to be closed.

For years she harbored the hope that a terrible mistake had been made, that some other

woman had died in that crash instead of her mother. She gave up that fantasy once she

realized that her mother wasn’t coming back, and that if her mother was, indeed, alive,

her failure to return would have meant that she had chosen to abandon Elina. That would

have been harder to bear than the death.

Jazy shook his head. “Elina, what does it matter now? You’re just upset about this man

Russell. That’s understandable. Don’t bring up old wounds.”

Elina looked at him pleadingly. “Just tell me.”

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“I’ve told you a hundred times.”

“Tell me again.”

They stood locked in a silent stare, a battle of wills. Finally Jazy sighed. “She had to go

out for groceries.”

“Why didn’t one of the staff go?”

“Your mother could be very particular about what she wanted. Perhaps she just wanted

to go out by herself.”

Elina was relentless. “Why didn’t you go with her?”

Jazy frowned. This was a topic he definitely did not want to discuss, and he especially

did not like the look in Elina’s eyes. It reminded him of her mother. “Someone had to

watch you.”

“You had the nurse. I don’t remember you watching me all that much.”

Jazy stood up and went back to his desk. He sat down and picked up a pen, starting to

fiddle with it. It was a quite expensive pen; he collected them, the bigger and more

expensive the better. It didn’t seem to comfort him but at least it kept him from

strangling her. “That’s enough of this reminiscing,” he said gruffly. “I apologize for not

telling you sooner about this man Russell’s death. I didn’t like him, I didn’t approve of

him, and I can’t say I was surprised when I heard he died. I decided to protect you by not

telling you when you were several thousand miles away and wouldn’t have been able to

do anything about it in any event. If that was wrong, you can blame me all you want, but

you’ll have to believe me when I tell you I was acting in what I thought were your best

interests.”

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It was quite a long speech for him, especially in what came as close to an apology as

Marko Jazy was likely to make. Elina got something much more than an apology from it:

she knew that he spoke about her mother’s death with the same look in his eyes as he lied

about never having met Joe Russell.

Chapter 48

Elina swept out of the room with barely a backward glance. Jazy and Gaines watched her

go. “Do you want me to follow her?”

Jazy shook his head. “It’s nothing. She will get over it. She always does.”

“Do you think she believed you about Russell?”

Jazy looked thoughtful. “It is not what she believes now that worries me. This will all go

away if things can simply run their course. In time this will just become another painful

memory.”

Gaines nodded. “It’s the brother you are worried about.”

“Exactly. What has he been up to?”

Gaines scratched his chin. “He happened to show up at the police station yesterday

morning just as they were interviewing Delray.”

“Coincidence?”

“Possibly. What’s more interesting is that they let him listen to the interview, and go

over the files.”

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Jazy appeared interested by this. “So he has someone pulling some strings for him. Do

we know who?”

“No.”

“Did Mr. Lopez put on a convincing enough performance? Of course, he must have, as

they have arrested Waterstone.”

Gaines held up his hand. “I understand that Russell had a question asked of Delray, and

that Delray fumbled the answer slightly. Not enough to concern the police, apparently,

but Mr. Russell may be more suspicious. For example, he showed up at Darci’s last night

with the woman detective.”

“Kincaid.”

“Yes. Detective Kincaid.”

Jazy smiled knowingly. “I can’t fault his taste in women.”

Gaines didn’t smile. “I don’t think he’s interested in her like that. She left around eleven

and he went back to see Jack.”

Jazy’s eyebrows rose. “Jack? I thought the police believed his story.”

“They did, but it’s like Delray – I’m not so sure our Mr. Russell is as easily convinced as

the police.”

Jazy shook his head in frustration. “What did Holland tell him?”

“He claims he stuck to the story, but he says Russell told him that he knows Jack knew

his brother, and that Elina introduced them.”

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Jazy’s face darkened. “Indeed. And how did Mr. Russell find this out?”

“He didn’t say. Jack had two bouncers throw him out. They were supposed to convince

him to stay away.”

“Which two?”

“Bennie and Anton.”

Jazy nodded approvingly. “They are quite capable, I understand.”

Gaines was not so convinced. “I’ll be curious to see what kind of bruises Mr. Russell has

next time I see him.”

Jazy pursed his lips and thought. He came to a decision. “I still don’t think this Russell

is a problem. I think you’re overcautious because of how things got out of hand with the

brother.” Gaines started to interrupt but Jazy put up a hand to stop him. “Still – if he

hasn’t gone by tomorrow, talk to him and convince him that his business here is

finished.”

Gaines smiled a wolfish grin. “Done.”

Meanwhile, Joe was busy over the next day and a half. He told Debbie that the police

had arrested a suspect in Ian’s murder, but was deliberately vague about whether it was a

witness, an accomplice, or the actual culprit. She sensed his reservation and did not press

the matter, as much as she wanted to. Joe would tell her in his own time, and she knew

better than to try to rush him.

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Elina had given him the names of eight men that she had been involved with since high

school. She’d told him that none of the romances had lasted longer than a few weeks.

Each had ended with what, for Elina, had seemed like surprising swiftness. Joe was

determined to find out why.

Two of the men refused to talk to him at all once they heard who he wanted to ask about.

The rest took varying degrees of convincing. Joe had to coax, cajole, threaten, or plead to

get the others to tell their stories, but what came out was quite revealing. None of the six

had wanted to break up with Elina Jazy; circumstances beyond their control had caused

the splits. Two of the men had been seduced by attractive and aggressive women they

met casually in bars – something that both admitted was not a standard occurrence for

them. At the time the men simply thought they were lucky, but when the rather explicit

photographs showed up in the mail with a note they realized they had been set-up. One

of them broke up with Elina immediately, as the note had suggested. The other man tried

to bluff it out, only to be thrown out when Elina received a copy of the photographs in a

manila envelope under her door.

Neither man knew who had taken the photographs.

Another boyfriend had been drugged in a bar, and found himself the next morning in a

gay bathhouse, surrounded by naked men who apparently had found him quite attractive

while he was still conscious, and perhaps even after. Again, he was made to understand

that his relationship with Elina Jazy was the price for discretion.

A fourth boyfriend had been offered several thousand dollars to break it off. “Hey, I was

young and stupid,” the man admitted to Joe. “It was a lot of money to me. I thought I’d

find another woman like Elina.”

“And?” Joe had asked, knowing the answer. Women like Elina were once-in-a-lifetime

lucky breaks. Ian had gotten that break, as had this man. Only Ian hadn’t had time to

regret it; this one had. The look on the man’s face confirmed it. “I thought of going back

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to her, but it had been made clear to me that she would be told about the bribe if I ever

contacted her again. If you know Elina, you’ll understand that she’d never forgive me for

that. Hell, I don’t forgive myself.”

The final two men had been the most steadfast to Elina. One had refused a seduction

effort, and the other had refused an attractive job offer that would have moved him far

away from Elina. Both men had then been visited by a man so scary that they

immediately broke things off, never contacting Elina since that visit. Both men’s

descriptions of the man were similar, and it was clear from their faces that they were still

terrified of him. “Jazy’s sidekick,” Joe said to himself immediately. He wondered what

the man had done to the two who had refused to tell him anything to make them so afraid

this long after the incidents in question. Still, it didn’t surprise him; the pattern of cruelty

– physical, mental, emotional – was pretty clear by now. Jazy was a piece of work

indeed.

Joe took time to visit Jazy’s house late that first night. Like many self-important men,

Jazy thought his reputation and a show of force would keep intruders out. In fact, his

security force was appallingly lax, and Joe had no trouble slipping through the grounds

unobserved. The house security system was also laughable, and Joe made his way into

and around the house without incident. The house was dark and foreboding, and Joe

moved through it like a ghost. Jazy had two guards posted in the hall near what was

evidently his bedroom, so Joe could not get too close. The guards weren’t necessarily a

problem, Joe thought, but they did complicate his options.

Moving through Jazy’s house, seeing how he had profited from his ruthless dealings over

the years, and especially how he was able to sleep in luxury each night while Ian laid cold

and dead in his grave, Joe was filled with hatred and fury. He forced himself to keep a

lid on it and used it to help him focus on why he had come there.

Once he felt he was sure of the house’s layout, he spent extra time in Jazy’s study. Jazy

had seemed comfortable here, using the over-decorated, over-indulgent furnishing of the

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room to overwhelm his visitors, or at least try to. Joe wanted to use that against him, to

take his secure stronghold and somehow turn it against him. He checked the room

thoroughly, finding a few surprises but more than he had expected to find, learning more

about Jazy, and getting some ideas for later. He sat for a while in Jazy’s chair,

wondering if this was where Jazy had decided to kill Ian. Perhaps Ian had sat in this

room, maybe argued with Jazy. He wondered, too, if Elina Jazy had confronted her

father, and how he might have reacted if she had. But mostly sitting there made him

think of Ian and the life that had been stolen from him by the man sleeping upstairs in this

very house. Joe’s fury turned cold and any remaining hesitation or doubt about what he

had to do slipped away.

The next morning he called his contact and asked for one final favor. The man did not

ask him why he wanted it; he was silent for a few seconds and said he’d have it delivered

in a day. “I have something else for you,” he added.

“What?”

“We almost missed it. It’s about your man’s Jazy’s mystery man. The name he goes by

is Carl Gaines.”

He stated it so deliberately that Joe knew what he was saying. “Let me guess – his name

isn’t really Carl Gaines,” Joe said.

“Oh, his name is Carl Gaines, according to his driver license, passport, credit cards, the

whole works. But I doubt very much he was born Carl Gaines. The analysts missed it,

and I almost did too. It was the kind of thing you’d have picked up right away. His

paper trail was a little too good, a little too perfect.”

“He had an identity made.” Joe started thinking about the implications of that. It didn’t

change the stakes of the game, but it raised the bar. He knew he could handle Jazy, but

Gaines might be the wild card.

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“A very good one, too,” his contact agreed. “One of ours, I’d say, or it was at one point.”

“He’s a rogue, then,” Joe had suggested. His contact had concurred. “You can be sure

that he is very dangerous. In a day or two we’ll have it figured out, know who he ran off

from and why. Once we know that, you can be sure that his old friends will be very

interested in finding out where he is now.”

“They can have him,” Joe said, rapidly working through the plan he had started to

formulate the night before in Jazy’s study. “In fact, I’m counting on it. Just not until I’ve

finished my business with Jazy.”

His friend, if he was a friend, paused before answering, as if calculating the strings he’d

have to pull, the favors he’d have to call in. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter 49

After all this, Joe was not entirely surprised when he got a call from Gaines later that day.

“Mr. Russell, this is Carl Gaines,” Gaines started. “We met –“

“I know who you are,” Joe cut in. It was a risk, admitting that he had done some research

on Gaines, but he thought it worth it. He wasn’t sure if word had gotten back to Gaines

about his latest line of questioning, or if some of his other activities were making Jazy

nervous, but he figured pushing a little further might break something open.

There was momentary silence. “I see.”

“How did you get my number?” Joe asked, curious about where Gaines had procured his

cell phone number.

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“I know a few things too,” Gaines said.

Now it was Joe’s turn. “I see.”

Gaines told him that Mr. Jazy wanted him to see how he was doing, and invited Joe to

meet with him. Gaines professed to be very busy, and asked if Joe would mind meeting

him at a martial arts class that he taught. They made the necessary arrangements, and at

three that afternoon Joe came in the storefront that hosted Gaines’ class. The building

had seen better days, located in a strip mall that had slid into an assorted batch of

rundown businesses -- dollar stores, resale shops and the like. It was dingy inside, with

peeling paint, cracks in the walls, and the smell of old sweat permeating the place.

Gaines was dressed in workout clothes, standing in front of about ten very fit looking

men dressed similarly to Gaines. Gaines waved at Joe, then indicated he’d be just a few

more minutes.

Gaines walked them through a couple techniques, and invited the class for what was

apparently the standard finale. Gaines donned some padded gloves, and proceeded to

take on two other non-gloved students at a time. He was very impressive. The students

seemed to Joe to be fairly capable, but time and time again Gaines had them on the

ground within seconds. He wasn’t flashy, and it was hard to really see what the pupils

were doing wrong. They approached him with confidence, courage, and much apparent

technique. Gaines still easily took them out. Joe could see the students’ confidence

being replaced by frustration, admiration, and even fear as more of them tried and failed

to do some damage to their teacher.

At last he dismissed the class. He walked over to Joe with the effortless yet insolent gait

of his. He was sweating but not even breathing hard. He gave Joe an evaluative look.

“Hey, how about you suit up and we’ll spar a little?”

“No thanks.”

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Gaines threw a teasing blow that didn’t come close to Joe. “That’s right. Golf is more

your game, is that it? Maybe a little soccer.” He didn’t really expect Russell to take him

up on his offer, but he wanted to push him a little, to find a weak spot that he could

exploit. He noticed that Russell seemed none the worse for his supposed beating the

night before at Darci’s, and resolved to have a little talk with Anton. Russell had either

talked or bought his way out of it, or perhaps Russell was better at taking care of himself

than they were giving him credit for. It just made things more interesting for him.

“I just coach soccer,” Joe said, smiling. He knew Gaines was needling him, trying for

some macho bullshit, but he wasn’t biting. “What I do on a golf course doesn’t really

deserve to be called golf. Hey, nice place you got here.” Joe’s tone was mildly sarcastic.

“I just use this place. I borrow it from a guy I know.”

Joe nodded towards the gallery of photos on the wall, filled with young boys gleefully

kicking the air or older boys trying to emulate Bruce Lee, or maybe these days it was Jet

Li. “I didn’t figure you coached them. So, tell me – your class looked like they weren’t

exactly novices. What kind of class I this?”

Gaines grinned. “This is the class they come to after they’ve finished with their other

classes. This is the real deal. You know, cops, ex-military – gung ho guys looking for

that extra edge.”

“Maybe a crook or two?” It was Joe’s turn to take a shot, polite tone of voice or not.

Gaines shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like they’re filling out a job history or anything. All I

care about is if they can fight. Sure you don’t want to practice a little? We could get you

some gear.” He gave Joe an especially amused look. “You know, at some point you and

I are going to tangle. Might as well be now.”

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Joe’s smile faded. Gaines’ threat was there baldly, shifting gears in a clear attempt to

throw Joe off, and Gaines wasn’t talking about some practice martial arts. Joe looked

almost apologetic. “If you and I ever have to, umm, ‘tangle,’ I want to have the element

of surprise on you.”

“It wouldn’t matter, you know,” Gaines told him without any doubt in his voice, not

sounding arrogant but just stating a fact.

“Perhaps,” Joe said, as if it made no difference either way. He smiled. “I’m still not

going to spar with you.”

Gaines shrugged. “No matter. Some other time, then. Hey, thanks for coming here on

short notice like this.” He guided Joe over to some seats at the edge of the room, but

remaining standing while Joe sat down.

“What can I do for you, Carl?”

Gaines noted that Russell not only knew who he was; he even knew his first name. Not

impossible information to get, certainly, but not so easy either. “Mr. Jazy and I were kind

of wondering why you are still in town. I mean, they caught that bastard that killed your

brother. You must be very happy.”

Joe regarded Gaines dubiously. “Happy isn’t a word that I’d use to describe how I feel;

no, not quite.”

“Yes, I can understand that. But it’s over and I’d think you’d be in a hurry to get back to

that pretty wife of yours, plus those two cute kids.”

Joe leaned back in his chair. So Gaines knew about his wife and even how many kids he

had. He tried to not let it appear to bother him. “I’ve got a few things yet to do. I’m

finding out some very interesting stuff about my brother, you know.”

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“You mean about the drugs and all?”

It was a shot and Joe knew it. “No, I’m not finding that at all, Mr. Gaines. Quite the

opposite, which just makes me more curious.”

Gaines exhaled noisily and pulled a chair up before him. He straddled it and rested his

forearms on the back of the chair. “You know, Mr. Russell, you need to think about this.

Your brother got involved with people that he shouldn’t have, and look where it got

him.”

“I thought you didn’t know my brother.”

Gaines gestured casually. “I’m not saying I did. I hear things, that’s all.”

“And you hear what?”

“I hear he got in over his head, and he drowned. I hear he got mixed up with people he

shouldn’t have. Bad people. He didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. You’re a

smart guy. Leave well enough alone.”

Joe looked at Gaines thoughtfully. Gaines was in the middle of politely warning him to

fuck off, as it were. “I swim pretty well.”

Gaines frowned for just a second.

“You like movies?’ Joe asked, his tone conversational. Gaines shook his head. “I don’t

watch many movies.”

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“There’s this good movie about the Klan in Mississippi in the early ‘60’s. Gene

Hackman plays this good old boy who has gone to work with the FBI guys, who are, of

course, all Yankees. I don’t remember why he went to work for them.”

“And you’re telling me this because?” Gaines looked studiously bored.

“Anyway, the Klan guys pretty much run the town. They even have the sheriff on their

side, and they’re stonewalling the FBI guys.”

“From what I hear, that’s not too hard,” Gaines noted.

“Whatever. So Gene Hackman, he goes into one of the Klan hangouts, and they’re

giving him a hard time for helping the FBI, who are, to them, the enemy. You know

what Hackman’s character does? This is just great.”

“What?”

“This racist bartender is the one giving him the most shit, expecting to scare him off or at

least discourage him, so Hackman grabs the bartender by the balls and he says – ‘don’t be

mistaking me for some whole other kind of guy.’ I mean, right in this Klan stronghold,

and he’s not scared a bit.” Joe looked expectantly at Gaines.

Gaines smiled as though amused. “What’s your point?”

Joe’s face lost whatever humor and good nature it had. “Don’t be mistaking me for some

whole other kind of guy either, Mr. Gaines.”

Gaines was silent for a second, then smiled himself. “You ever hear of a movie called

8MM? With Nicolas Cage?”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t believe so.”

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“It’s set in the porno world, snuff films and all.”

“Not a Disney cartoon, then.”

“No,” Gaines agreed. “Anyway, this one guy tells Cage – ‘you dance with the devil, the

devil don’t change.’” He stared meaningfully at Joe.

Yeah, I get it, Joe thought to himself. You change, not the devil. Well, Mr. Gaines, I

know who the hell I am, and there’s nothing you or Jazy are going to show me that’s

going to open my eyes. Joe shook his head in evident amusement and smiled. “The

devil, eh?” He leaned forward in his chair. Gaines watched him warily, the first sign of

nerves Joe had seen him display. “You see, I’ve known people like you.”

“I doubt that,” Gaines said. He had recovered his composure.

“You’d be surprised,” Joe said. “I’ve known people like you, and you don’t scare me.”

“I should.”

They let that sit there for a few seconds while they studied each other, measuring for

some future encounter that was suddenly seeming a lot closer. Finally Joe spoke. “So

what else did you want to tell me?”

Gaines gave Joe a serious look. “One thing I hear is that you’re sticking your nose in Mr.

Jazy’s business.”

“Does Jazy have something to hide?”

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The expression on Gaines’ face was meant to be a smile, but it was a cold smile

nonetheless. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Mr. Jazy doesn’t like people

interfering with his business.”

“I’m just looking to find out what happened to my brother. If Jazy had nothing to do

with it, he’s got nothing to worry about from me.”

Gaines pursued his lips. “They locked up the guy who killed your brother. What else is

there to find out?”

“I don’t know. When I know I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Gaines leaned in closer to Russell. “Don’t be stupid. I’m telling you, I don’t give a shit

what you’re looking for, and I don’t really care where you look for it, as long as you

leave Mr. Jazy and his business out of it.”

Joe was silent. He watched Gaines carefully. “Is that a threat?” he asked softly.

Gaines shook his head and smiled that cold smile of his. “Some words of advice. I’m

just trying to be friendly, you being a visitor and all. A man could get mixed up in

something he didn’t count on if he isn’t careful – like your brother. You know?”

Joe stood and Gaines went up with him. Gaines thought briefly about just killing him

right then. It would be simpler, but Jazy was right that the death of the brother so soon

after the original death might upset their carefully crafted story. The urge passed. Gaines

thought that Ian Russell hadn’t had much of a chance. They’d taken him by surprise, and

there were simply too many of them. He’d managed to get in some good hits, like the

one to Walker’s knee, but he really had no chance. Perhaps if Russell had gotten to Jazy

a half second quicker, or if there had been one less guy there, then Russell might have

had an outside chance, but Jazy hadn’t wanted him to have a chance. Gaines decided

that, if it came to that, he’d give this Russell more of a sporting chance. Of course,

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sporting to Gaines was akin to a cat letting a mouse slip away for a few moments before

the cat caught him again. It’s not so much fun for the mouse, but the cat enjoys it. Both

parties knew that unless the cat gets bored or distracted, the mouse is done for. Gaines

didn’t get bored or distracted when he was after someone. Still, he would let this Russell

have a shot at protecting himself. It wouldn’t matter in the end, but it’d be more fun for

Gaines.

Joe prepared himself for the attack that did not come, and relaxed when Gaines’s stance

again took on his casual attitude. What Gaines thought most interesting was how Russell

had reacted. Most people would have been jumpy, knowing they couldn’t respond if he

attacked. Other people, more innocent people, might have been oblivious to the threat.

Russell had been aware of the danger he was in, but had not been scared. Gaines thought

it unusual that Russell believed Gaines would not attack, but was ready if he had. Very

few people could do that. Maybe he was some pacifist Quaker saint, not scared of getting

hurt, but Gaines didn’t put much faith in that. He didn’t know many men who wouldn’t

defend themselves once attacked, Quaker or not, and in his book a man that wouldn’t

fight back to defend his family was a flat-out coward. Russell was an odd duck all right,

but Gaines felt sure he could figure out which buttons to push to get Russell to fight. He

was glad he hadn’t acted rashly. He needed to understand the situation better – not

because he was scared, but because he knew it was better to go into something prepared.

He’d be prepared the next time they met.

“You tell Mr. Jazy thank you for his concern,” Joe said, holding Gaines’ eyes. “But I’ll

leave when I’m ready to leave. Not before.”

The two of them stared at each other, knowing it wasn’t over between them, and that this

was likely to be the last truce before whatever would come next. They were two men

who were both used to getting what they set out to get, overcoming whatever obstacles

they found in their way. In this situation, each was the other’s major obstacle, and one of

them was going to be disappointed.

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Gaines had the final word. “I hope I don’t see you again, Mr. Russell. If I do, surprise or

no surprise, it won’t make any difference.”

Chapter 50

When Joe arrived back at Ian’s, it was late afternoon, and he again found Elina Jazy

waiting on the steps. Today she was wearing walking shorts, a white cotton blouse, and

sandals. She looked like a young suburban princess, and it was only the serious look on

her face that separated her from that tribe that she had never bothered to try to join.

“Can I talk to you for a while?” she asked when Joe got closer.

He sighed. He had things to tell her, and was interested in what she might have to tell

him about her father, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. “Sure,” he said,

unlocking the door and gesturing to her. “Come on in.”

Joe led her in, then excused himself, saying he had to make a phone call. He wanted to

talk to Debbie and the kids before it got too late, so he told her to make herself at home.

He went into his bedroom and shut the door. “Hey,” he said softly when Debbie

answered the phone.

“Hey yourself,” she replied, and he could picture her half smile. She put the kids on and

they chattered away, their little worlds already having largely put behind the world he

was still living in, the world where the memory of his brother and his untimely death still

dominated everything. No, their worlds were filled with larger triumphs and defeats, like

scoring a goal in soccer or something silly that one of their friends had said about another

friend. He soaked in it gratefully, missing that world. It hardly seemed real to him. He’d

allowed his life there to build those insular walls where family concerns filled up one’s

mind to the point where there was very little room for anything else. Well, Ian was

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family too, and this world he was stuck in for now was his world for now, whether he

liked it or not.

At last Debbie came back on the line. There were a few household items she wanted to

bring him up to date on, but soon enough she realized his heart wasn’t quite in it.

“What’s going on, hon?”

Joe paused. There was only so much of what he was doing that he wanted to bring into

his other life. “Things are getting busy. Ian’s girlfriend is here and I’ve got to talk to her

about some stuff.”

“OK, I won’t keep you. Call you later?”

Again Joe hesitated. “I’ve got some stuff to do later,” he said. “It’s probably going to be

too late.”

Debbie took a long but silent breath. “Does this stuff have to do with the girlfriend or

that pretty detective you were telling me about?” she asked lightly.

Joe laughed, knowing Debbie wasn’t really jealous but glad that she was still marking

her territory. “No, they’re not part of it. Just some things I need to check out.”

Debbie was worried. “You’re being careful, aren’t you? You’re not going to do

anything foolish?”

Joe couldn’t lie to her, but this was something he couldn’t quite tell her the truth about

either. “Foolish? No, of course not. Stupid – well, maybe.”

They both laughed, neither quite comfortable with what he was doing but knowing it

would have to do. He hated making her worry but there was nothing that could be done

about it right now. Sitting in Ian’s house, with Ian’s girlfriend in the next room, his

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clothes in the closets, his pictures on the walls, Ian’s life felt very real to Joe. He needed

to finish up. “Be careful, my love,” she said tenderly.

When he went back Elina was looking through the cupboards. She gave him a curious

look. “Everything OK?” she asked.

He nodded. “Family stuff. You know.”

She did not respond, but inwardly she was thinking to herself that she didn’t really know,

that she didn’t have that kind of family. Instead she gestured to the sparse cupboards. “I

thought maybe you might like something to eat. I was looking to see what was here.”

“Not too much, I’m afraid.”

“I gather your brother wasn’t big on eating in.”

“Well, did you ever eat in with him?”

Elina paused, not quite knowing how to answer that. Joe saw her hesitation and finally

smiled. “Not that kind of relationship, eh?”

“Well, we hadn’t quite gotten to that point,” she admitted. She looked up at him. “But I

hope we would have.” He nodded.

In the end they agreed to order a pizza, and sat at the table to talk while they waited.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Joe reminded her.

She looked restless or uncomfortable, and fidgeted with her hands. She looked down at

them as if they were strange little animals moving on their own. “I asked my father about

Ian. He lied to me. He lied to me about why he didn’t tell me about Ian’s death. He lied

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to me about you visiting.” She suddenly looked up and the nervousness was gone,

replaced with a new resolution. “I’m beginning to think he lied to me about everything.”

If she was expecting Joe to disagree with her, she was going to be disappointed. He just

sat there with that sympathetic look on his face. His eyes seemed both sad and knowing

at the same time. She thought she saw a little of Ian in those eyes, and it encouraged her.

“In fact,” she continued. “I think he even lied to me about my mother.”

“Your mother?”

Elina stood up and started pacing around the living room. She touched the furniture

absently. “My mother was killed when I was very young. My father told me she was hit

by a drunk driver.” She stopped there, pausing both physically and verbally.

“And now?” Joe prompted softly.

She faced him. “I think my father killed my mother and got away with it. Just like he

thinks he can kill your brother and get away with it.”

If she thought she was going to shock him, she was wrong. He didn’t blink, didn’t miss a

beat when she laid out what were the two biggest bombshells to hit her in her young life.

Not even the actual blow of learning about Ian’s death quite matched the revelation that

her father might be – no, probably was -- a cold-blooded murderer of the two people she

had been closest to in her life. He looked, if anything, sadder than she felt. But not

surprised.

He just nodded.

She had to sit down, a little too suddenly. It was like her legs gave way and she barely

made it to her chair at the table before she did something that would have looked quite

foolish. “You’re not surprised, are you?” she asked.

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He shook his head. “No. I’ve been figuring things out on my own, and they’re sort of

leading me to the same place.”

Even though her intuition had been telling her these things for the past couple of days,

her head still hadn’t quite gotten wrapped around the concept. “Why?” she asked at last,

her voice breaking and her eyes filling with tears.

He still had that sympathetic look on his face. “I’ve got a few more things to tell you,

Elina, if you think you are up to it.”

“About my father?”

“Sort of. Some of it is about you.”

She got a terrible sense of dread, not sure she was ready to hear any more revelations

about her life. But there was something about this man that she trusted. She would be

hard pressed to say why, but she felt that he wouldn’t tell her things just to hurt her, and

he’d help her as best he could if it got too hard. Some of it was that she had felt that way

about Ian, and some of it was his comforting presence. “OK,” she said bravely.

Joe told her what he had learned about her former boyfriends. She was surprised that

he’d been so busy, and had managed to get in touch with so many of the men who had

dropped off the face of the earth as far as she was concerned. Once she started to hear

what he had to tell her, she was even more surprised. At first she was appalled, knowing

that someone had deliberately sabotaged her relationships or attempts at relationships, but

as Joe continued to recount the stories he had obtained, her feelings gradually shifted. It

was too bizarre to take seriously, and the stories began to seem funny. Joe initially didn’t

quite know how to take her shift in moods, but finally realized that it was probably

healthy, and he began to tell the stories in that manner. They ended up laughing at the

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last couple stories, wiping tears of laughter away from their faces and knowing that, at its

heart, there was nothing funny about it.

“I thought it was me,” Elina said, her voice filled with wonder. She looked at some

distant point in space or time, seemingly removed from Joe or from Ian’s apartment.

“You thought what was you?” Joe asked, confused.

Elina came back to earth. She looked at Joe. “I thought there was something wrong with

me, that I drove men away. Get close to me, or – God forbid – sleep with me, and they’re

gone. Whoosh! Bye-bye with no looking back.” She pushed her hands away to further

illustrate.

Joe shook his head, amazed that such a woman could have come to such a conclusion.

Marko certainly had done a number on her. “It wasn’t you.”

She shook her head too, but didn’t seem entirely convinced yet. “It wasn’t you, Elina,”

he repeated firmly. He reached across the table and put a comforting hand on her wrist.

“All of those guys wanted to be with you. They thought you were great. It was them that

weren’t worthy of being with you.”

“Worthy?”

“OK, maybe that’s not the right word. They gave up on you.”

“They had help.”

“Yeah, they had help – but they still gave up.”

“Ian didn’t, and he’s dead for it.”

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Joe’s hand involuntarily tightened on her wrist. He looked down for a second, then

looked up and met her eyes again. “I’m prouder that Ian didn’t back off and got killed

for it than if he had let them back him down.”

Elina became totally serious. “And you think that’s what happened, don’t you?”

Joe nodded. “I’m not sure if they tried to scare him and Ian fought back, then things just

got out of hand, or if they got tougher about their tactics because things looked more

serious. I think they tried to buy him off, though.”

“The fifty thousand dollars he mentioned,” Elina said, almost under her breath.

“Right. He told you he only had it for a while, so he must have given it back or given it

away. I don’t have all the pieces, but I feel pretty sure about what happened.”

She studied him. “You knew it when you met my father, didn’t you? How did you

know?”

Joe made a face that was not quite a grimace but was not exactly a smile either. At last

he started nodding slightly again. “He practically dared me to do something about it,

without actually admitting it, of course.”

“Of course,” Elina agreed. “Marko Jazy never admits to his sins.”

“Then he sends his goon to tell me – politely, of course – to get out of town before I get

mixed up with the wrong kind of people, like my brother did.”

“That would be Mr. Gaines,” Elina said, imagining such a meeting. Gaines scared most

people, including herself. She didn’t think Gaines would have scared this man. “So, are

you mixed up with the wrong kind of people now?”

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“Looks like it,” Joe said cheerfully.

“That’d include me, I guess.”

Joe raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. They again broke up laughing, only this

time finding some real humor, and feeling some real connection between them. Ian had

brought them together. He undoubtedly wouldn’t have chosen for them to get to know

each other under this kind of circumstances, but both of them took some comfort in

believing that Ian would have been happy that they had managed to gain that connection

anyway.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know,” Elina said softly when they stopped

laughing and the sadness of their circumstances rose around them again.

“No, it wasn’t,” Joe agreed, knowing what Elina meant.

“I mean, I like you and all, Joe, and I’m glad you are here…”

“…but…”

“But it was supposed to be Ian sitting here with me, laughing and having the time of our

lives. You’re a great guy and all, Joe –“

“But I’m not Ian.”

She shook her head and tears came to her again, this time flowing out onto her cheeks.

Joe stood up and came around to her side of the table. He sat beside her and put his arm

around her, comforting her as he had that first time they’d met and he’d had to tell her

about Ian. That time she had barely had time to accept the fact that he was dead. This

time she was feeling the full extent of the loss.

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“Are you what Ian would have been like in a few years?”

Joe was taken aback, but hid his surprise. “How do you mean?”

Elina got up and walked over to the kitchen counter. She leaned against it and regarded

him carefully. “Well, you’re a lot different from Ian. You’re quieter, more serious.”

“And you think Ian would have become more like me in a few years?”

Elina shrugged. They both knew that they’d never know what Ian might have become in

a few years. He wasn’t going to get that chance, and that was the crux of the sadness.

Not just missing him, but of the life events stolen from him by his early death.

Joe shook his head and smiled a small smile. “No, Ian and I were always pretty different.

He probably would have settled down, but he’d have always been Ian.”

Elina smiled too, then regarded him thoughtfully again. “You have kids, right?”

“A boy and a girl.”

Elina obviously wasn’t quite sure how to ask her next question, or maybe she wasn’t

exactly sure what she wanted to ask. “What?” Joe prodded her.

She sighed and came back to the table. She sat down and looked at him with that sad

look again. “When your daughter gets old enough to date…” Her voice trailed off, as she

was unable to finish her thought.

Joe figured out what she was wondering. “I don’t know why he did it, Elina,” he told

her. “No, when my daughter starts going out I’m sure I’ll feel protective and all, but I

hope to God I’d never scare someone off.” He paused, mostly for dramatic effect.

“Well, maybe if he was in a boy band or something like that.”

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They both laughed, but at the same time they knew it wasn’t funny. “He’s crazy, isn’t

he?” Elina said at last. “My father, I mean.”

“I don’t know, Elina. I just don’t know.”

She studied him long and hard. Joe didn’t know what she was thinking and wasn’t sure

that he wanted to, but she seemed to be coming to a conclusion. “You’re going to do

something about it, aren’t you?”

That was too close to home for comfort. Joe grimaced and tried to shrug it off, but she

was not so easily dissuaded. “Come on. You’ve come too far to just let this go. I want

to help,” she told him with the utmost sincerity.

“Help me with what?”

“Help you with whatever you’re going to do. I’ll go with you to the police if you want,

so they won’t think you’re crazy. I’ll tell them my father is the crazy one.”

“Elina,” Joe started. They were saved from pursuing Marko Jazy’s psychological

tendencies by the sound of the doorbell ringing. They looked at each other. “Expecting

anyone?” Joe asked. Elina shook her head. “You?”

“Must be the pizza,” Joe decided. He got up and went to the door. He opened it and was

surprised to find an attractive young woman standing on the doorstep.

“You must be Ian’s brother,” she said. “The one who keeps leaving messages on the cell

phone.”

“I’m Joe Russell,” Joe acknowledged. “And you are?”

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“My name is Ashley Wilde,” she said. “And I know who killed your brother.”

Chapter 51

Joe wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. She was an attractive woman, dressed in a

jean skirt, with a spaghetti strap top that did nothing to hide her body. She wore no

make-up and looked like she hadn’t slept much in the last few days, but she was very

attractive. He ran through the names of Ian’s friends. He’d seen lots of names, in Ian’s

address book, emails, on the funeral home guest book, but he did not remember an

Ashley Wilde. It’s possible he simply didn’t remember the name, but he didn’t think so;

he was pretty good with names. He definitely didn’t remember leaving messages for her.

More likely she was a nut. Ian’s murder had generated a lot of media publicity, which

drew crazies like flies swarming around open food. The police had screened most of

them, but a couple had made their way to Joe, determined to share some spiritual or

mystical insight with him. She didn’t look like one of them, but it wasn’t that easy to tell

just by looking.

“I’m sorry,” he told her politely. “This is not a good time. I’ve got company right now.”

Behind him he heard Elina stand up and move closer, still out of sight but not out of

hearing range. Ashley heard her stirring and peeked around Joe to see whom he was

referring to. “I’m sorry,” she said dejectedly. “It’s just that I didn’t know where else to

go. You see, they killed my husband too.”

She hadn’t done anything to convince Joe that she wasn’t crazy, but nothing she’d said

sounded too off-the-wall either, although two weeks previously the mention of even one

murder would have seemed like something from a movie. Still, she looked so forlorn that

Joe’s heart went out to her. He was so convinced that Marko Jazy had killed Ian that this

woman, with whatever her theory might be, would only distract him from dealing with

Jazy. He was about to dismiss her again when she looked up at him and tried a brave

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smile. “I don’t have anyplace else to go,” she told him in a small voice. She started to

cry. “Ian would have helped me, so I came here.” She started to sob silently.

That broke it. Crazy or not, Joe wasn’t going to turn away a crying woman. “Why don’t

you come inside?” he suggested, taking her elbow and guiding her into the living room.

She stopped short when she saw Elina. Elina came over and put her arm around Ashley.

She took Ashley over to the couch and sat next to her. Ashley looked around the

apartment almost with a sense of wonder. It was evident to Joe that she’d never been

there before, which further made him doubt that she was a friend of Ian’s.

“This is Elina Jazy,” Joe told her, watching her face for any flicker of recognition at the

name.

“Pleased to meet you,” Ashley said automatically, offering her hand to Elina and shaking

it tentatively. If Ashley had ever heard of Elina before, she was a damn good actress, for

she showed absolutely no sign of recognition.

“So what’s all this about your husband?” Joe prompted.

Ashley took a deep breath to calm herself. “They killed him three days ago, and now

they want the insurance money.”

Joe put out a cautioning hand. “Whoa, slow down. Who killed him?”

Ashley blinked back her tears. It all came out in a rush. “A man named Sokov. Robert –

that’s my husband – owed them forty thousand dollars and he couldn’t pay. They

hounded him and hounded him, then they made me get to know Ian, and finally I thought

it was over. Then they killed Ian and they came after Robert again. They found out he

had some life insurance, so they killed him and told me I had to give them the money.

Won’t this ever be over?” With that she buried her face in her hands and started crying.

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Elina and Joe looked at each other. Elina raised a questioning eyebrow and Joe shrugged.

The story didn’t make any sense. Elina started rubbing Ashley shoulders and making

soothing sounds. The doorbell rang again, which caused them all to look at the door.

Ashley looked up and whispered. “It might be them.”

Joe got up and went to the door, finding no killers, just a pizza deliveryman. He paid the

man and took the pizza inside. The women decided they were hungry after all. They

adjourned together to the bathroom to wash faces and whatever, while Joe took care of

the preparations. When Elina and Ashley returned they all sat down at the breakfast bar

and Joe dished out slices. They dug in hungrily.

After a few minutes of convivial chewing, Joe started in again. “Let’s start over again.

Tell me again about these men and what this has to do with my brother.”

Ashley stopped in mid-bite, trying to shift gears to the more sordid world she had escaped

for just a few minutes. She took a drink, swallowed, and exhaled deeply. “I’m so

embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Elina told her. “You’re among friends.”

Ashley shook her head, although at what, it wasn’t clear. She looked down at her plate,

and toyed with the half-eaten slice of pizza. “Robert had a gambling problem. I didn’t

know it until he’d gotten us in debt too deeply. Oh, I knew he liked to gamble, but I had

no idea he’d lost all of our money. That is, until he had me go with him to this man

Sokov.”

“And who is Sokov?” Joe asked.

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“I guess you’d call him a bookie, or maybe a loan shark. I’m not exactly sure, except he

was the one Robert owed the money to. We didn’t have any money left or any way of

getting the money, and they hurt Robert to make me do what they wanted.”

“What did they want?”

She looked at Joe, then at Elina, then guiltily looked back at her plate. “They wanted me

to get Ian interested in me.”

“They wanted you to seduce Ian?” Elina asked, surprised.

Ashley looked up at her. “No, no, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. I wasn’t supposed

to have to sleep with him, just go out with him and make him like me.”

Joe was starting to realize what had happened. “You’re the woman at the apartment.”

Ashley nodded. “I’m the ‘drug mistress,’” she said with disdain, using the term that the

newspapers had labeled her with. Elina’s eyes widened, and she looked at Joe for

direction. He nodded calmly at her.

“Ashley, were there any drugs?”

She looked indignant. “Of course not! There were never any drugs. I read that stuff in

the paper and I knew they were setting Ian up. That’s why I didn’t come forward. I was

afraid of what they would do to me. Ian had taken care of the money and I hoped it

would all just go away. But it didn’t…”

Joe thought for a second. “How did Ian take care of the money?”

“I don’t know. He told me he paid them fifty thousand dollars and that I didn’t have to

worry about it any more. For a while they left me alone. Then they killed Robert.”

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There was that fifty thousand dollars again. Ian had mentioned the money to Elina, it had

turned up as the supposed drug money, and now here it was again. There had to be a

connection. Joe was glad he hadn’t turned Ms. Wilde away. He suggested they finish

their pizza, and he thought carefully as they ate and reestablished the fragile atmosphere

of trust. Once they’d finished, he had her start again at the beginning, and had her tell it

twice before he felt comfortable he had the story straight.

“I hated that, towards the end, they did want me to sleep with him. I mean, by that time I

liked Ian a lot and I was attracted to him, but I’m not a whore,” Ashley said, spitting out

the word. “They started to kill Robert until I said I’d do it, then they broke Robert’s

fingers to prove they could do whatever they wanted to. They’d have done worse if I

hadn’t agreed to sleep with Ian. If I’d known they were going to kill Robert anyway I

might not have tried.”

“Tried?” Elina said, speaking up for the first time.

Ashley looked at Elina in surprise. “That was the weird thing. After all my worrying

about Ian wanting to try to take advantage of me, in the end I practically threw myself at

him, and he didn’t take me up on it. I was kind of mortified.”

She looked quite appealing, with her nice face and well-proportioned body evident in her

thin top. She had that All-America, girl-next-door kind of beauty, a cheerleader kind of

beauty. Maybe not a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader, but someone men would watch

walking down the street and smile winningly at. Moreover, she knew it, and when Sokov

had wanted her to try to get Ian interested in her, she wouldn’t have had many doubts that

he would like what he saw. Joe thought Elina didn’t have that kind of confidence, much

less the clean-cut good looks. Her beauty was something different, something rarer and

more exotic. Maybe where her genes came from, her looks were commonplace, but

wherever that it was, it certainly wasn’t here. Men would stare and be fascinated by her,

and – Ian’s success notwithstanding – perhaps be scared off. Marko’s interference in her

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love life was almost ironic, because her unique beauty would have made it hard enough

for her to find the right man.

Ashley, on the other hand, was never going to have that problem. She would attract men

without even trying, but sometimes those men would be the wrong ones, like Robert. Or

it would get her put into situations like with Ian, where she had to put her own body on

the line for a husband that wasn’t worth it. Joe felt proud of Ian for not taking advantage

of what sounded like it would have been an easy lay. It would have been wrong on so

many levels, more than Ian could have known at the time. “Ashley,” Joe said kindly,

“Elina is the reason Ian couldn’t sleep with you.”

Ashley and Elina looked at each other as if they were just becoming aware of each

other’s presence. They studied each other with a long, mutually evaluative look. From

the sound of it, Ashley hadn’t really wanted to sleep with Ian, and Elina hadn’t really had

competition from Ashley for Ian’s affection, but this was something more primoral.

They sized each other up, cataloging strengths and weaknesses, advantages and

disadvantages, flaws and weak points. It might have been funny on a dating show but

didn’t seem so funny under the circumstances.

“You were very lucky,” Ashley said at last to Elina. “Ian was the best.”

Elina’s eyes teared up. “I know,” she said simply.

The three of them were quiet for a few seconds, letting the two women sort out their

feelings. When Joe determined that it was safe to proceed, he started in on the murder.

“They killed your husband to get the life insurance? They need you to sign it over to

them?”

Ashley nodded.

“So why do you think they killed Ian too?”

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Ashley looked confused. “Well, who else would have wanted him dead?”

“Who do you think wanted Sokov to make you go after Ian?”

“I don’t know,” Ashley said, looking down. “I used to wonder about that. I suppose I

thought it was some sort of stupid bet, the kind of thing that men like Sokov do just for

fun, just because they could.”

“Then why would they kill him? What would they gain?”

“I don’t know,” Ashley admitted slowly. “I didn’t think so at first, not until they killed

Robert. Then I just assumed they must have killed Ian as well. Maybe he made them

mad when he tried to settle things for me.”

“Ashley, if Ian told you he’d taken care of it, then he’d taken care of it,” Joe told her.

“Something else must have happened. How did they kill your husband?”

She looked troubled. “They shot him in the head. Twice.”

Very professional, Joe thought. Not at all like how they’d killed Ian. Perhaps that was

personal and her husband had just been business, but Joe didn’t think so. It just didn’t fit.

“You must have loved your husband very much,” Elina told Ashley gently.

She made a face. “I did once.”

“But you went through all this for him.”

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Ashley shook her head. “I don’t know. I did love him, once, but he changed. If he loved

me would he have let them use me like that? Would you have done that to someone you

loved?”

Joe and Elina were silent. Joe stood up and started to clear the table, and the two women

automatically stood and started helping him. In no time they had everything washed, put

away, or disposed of. By unspoken mutual consent, they adjourned to the living room

again.

“I was thinking about what you were saying,” Joe said at last.

“Yes?” Ashley said. Elina also looked at him with interest.

“I don’t know about whether your husband loved you or not. I can’t really speak to that.

But I know that you do things for the people you love that you never thought you’d find

yourself doing. Maybe your husband deserved you, maybe he didn’t. Either way, you

did the best you could for him, because that’s who you are. That’s that.”

Ashley looked so relieved that Joe thought she might burst. Elina also smiled wanly,

thinking of how Ian had given his life for her. Joe thought of the terrible risks he was

running, the threat it posed to his own family’s happiness. You don’t get to decide which

limb you have to go out on, or how far you have to go, he reminded himself. You don’t

always even get to decide whom you’ll go out on that limb for. You fall in love, you get

born first – sometimes it’s not a choice. It’s just fate, and you deal with it.

Ashley’s face clouded over, her momentary relief and pride taking second place to her

more immediate fears again. “What about Sokov? He’s still wants Robert’s money, and

he’ll kill me if he doesn’t get it.”

Joe looked at her, then at Elina, and finally back at Ashley. “Oh, I’ll have a talk with Mr.

Sokov.”

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Chapter 52

Joe told Ashley that he had to get the police involved. After some discussion and

reassurance, she agreed. He called Juanita Kincaid. “Juanita?” he said in greeting.

“Well, Mr. Joseph Russell,” she replied with mock surprise. She was sitting at her desk

finishing up some paperwork, and she leaned back in her chair when she found out who it

was. “It’s back to Juanita, is it? No Detective Kincaid on the phone?”

“Your rules,” he told her, smiling. “I figured your partner might look at you cross-eyed

otherwise.”

“You’re probably right. To what do I owe the honor of this call? Looking for a dinner

companion?”

Joe looked into the living room, where Elina and Ashley seemed to be doing quite well

without him, striking up an animated conversation. “No, I had dinner,” he said with a

faint smile. “I need another favor.”

There was a pause. “I see. Let me guess – you have something to trade for this favor?”

“Yeah, I think so. I want you to see what you can come with on two names. One of them

is a guy named Sokov – I’m sorry, I don’t have a first name, and the other is a Robert

Wilde. With an ‘e” at the end. Can you do that?”

Juanita leaned back towards her desk again. “Hey, I hadn’t promised anything yet.”

“Come on,” Joe said with a pleading tone of voice.

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“I’ll have to see what I can find out about this Sokov guy,” she said, already punching his

name in the computer. “But your other guy – one of my squad caught the case. Two

slugs in the back of the head a few days ago – bang, bang! Very professional.”

Joe nodded. Ashley’s story was proving true, in case he wondered. “Any leads?”

“Ice cold. The guy was a financial planner, which I guess is what they call life insurance

salesmen these days. Wife didn’t know anything, but was pretty shook up, from what I

hear.” She stopped talking and chewed on her lip as she read Sokov’s record. “You

going to tell me what this is all about?”

“Later. What about Sokov?”

“Later is when, exactly?”

Joe thought about his plans, and how things had to play out. “How’s tomorrow? Buy

you some lunch at the diner?”

Juanita’s wheels were turning. She didn’t know what Joe was up to, or how these two

particular names fit with his brother’s murder, but she had a pretty strong hunch it was all

connected. She quickly read the information on her computer screen. “Your Mr. Sokov

is a tough cookie. Gets arrested every few months for running a book, but hasn’t served

any time for it. He runs with a guy named Andre Franklin, the muscle but certainly not

the brains. Several arrests for extortion, assault, aggravated assault – you know, the

whole list – but never a conviction. The witnesses suddenly decide not to testify or

something. Funny how that works, eh? So – where does Mr. Sokov fit in with your

brother?”

“Tomorrow,” Joe said absently, already thinking ahead to his visit with Sokov.

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“Uh-huh,” Juanita said to herself. “Hey, and Joe – I had another conversation with

Delray Lopez today.”

“And?”

“Tomorrow,” she said deadpan.

“Fair enough,” Joe said with a smile. He hung up and asked Ashley a few more

questions about Mr. Sokov and his operation.

An hour later Joe was at The Bitter End. He walked in and headed straight to Sokov’s

office. “Business with Mr. Sokov,” he said to the man at the door to the back office.

“Hold on there, hoss,” the guard said, sliding off his stool. “Got to pass go first.” He

indicated that Joe should raise his hands. Joe put his hands in the air innocently and let

the kid frisk him. He hadn’t brought any weapons, or felt the need to, despite warnings

from both Juanita and Ashley. He was hoping that there didn’t have to be trouble,

although he wouldn’t have bet on it. The guard ushered him into Sokov’s office.

Sokov was sitting behind his desk, tapping away at his computer with his good arm, his

other arm in a cast. The bald headed muscle man was sitting on the couch looking bored.

He looked up hopefully when Joe came in, but Sokov kept his head down.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?” Sokov challenged without ceasing

punching in numbers.

“I’m here about Ashley Wilde.”

“Never heard of her.” He didn’t raise his head or interrupt his work.

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“I’m here about Ashley Wilde and the forty – no, fifty – thousand dollars you claim she

owes you.”

That caused Sokov to look up. He appraised Joe carefully. “You a cop?”

“Nope.”

“You got my money?”

“Nope.”

Sokov put his head back down and started keying again, his disinterest evident. “Then

we got nothing to talk about. Beat it.”

Joe came closer and sat on the edge of Sokov’s desk, which caused Sokov to look up

again. “Get the hell off of my desk. Andre!” Andre started to get up.

“Calm down, Andre,” Joe said, putting his hand out in a soothing gesture. Curiously

enough, Andre remained seated, although he sat on the edge of the couch, ready to move

if needed. Joe turned back to Sokov. “Thing is, my understanding is that Ashley’s

husband’s debt to you was paid off. In full. But you keep coming around bothering her

about it.”

“Listen, buddy, excuse my French, but – what the fuck is it to you?” Sokov glared at

him, then stared at Andre again. “Andre!”

Joe gestured at Andre again, stopping him. “Just a minute, Andre, let’s talk this out first.

Listen, both of you: Ian Russell told her that he paid you off, in full and with a few

thousand extra.”

“Never heard of him.” Sokov started keying again.

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Joe swept the keyboard away from him with a sudden gesture that caused Sokov to look

up in surprise. “I think you have.”

Sokov gave Andre the full bore stare. “Andre! Throw this dumb fuck out!”

Joe looked calmly at Andre, who stood up slowly with an anticipatory smile on his face.

“Andre – hang on a second. This is one of those big life decisions for you. You made a

bad one a few days ago when your boss told you to kill Robert Wilde.” Joe was pleased

to see Andre’s eyes shift nervously towards Sokov at the sound of Wilde’s name.

“You’re going to pay for that, because the police are going to catch you and you’re going

to end up getting the needle. That is, unless you cop a plea and rat out your boss here

before he tries to do the same to you. This is that kind of choice again for you Andre –

don’t screw it up again.”

Joe was surprised that Andre had let him talk as long as he had, and he was clearly

nervous. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, but that was why Sokov was there. “Throw

him out!”

Andre was never quite certain what happened next. He remembered charging the

stranger, who was still sitting on Sokov’s desk. Then, just before Andre reached him, the

man was up. His arm clotheslined him while his feet somehow swept Andre’s own legs

out from under him, then the man’s foot stomped on his mid-section. Then the man was

sitting back on the desk, looking like he had never moved, except for one foot resting

ominously on Andre’s throat. It seemed like it happened too quickly for it to be real, but

there he was, on the floor and quite helpless.

Andre had still not said a single word to Joe, but he suddenly found himself in an

unspoken agreement with him. Andre’s part of the bargain was to lie there entirely

motionless, in return for which Joe agreed not to crush his windpipe like a cockroach.

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Sokov, too, was stunned by the rapid turn of events, and too late made a move towards

his desk drawer with his good hand. Joe caught him easily, then grabbed the arm in the

cast and twisted it just slightly. Sokov bellowed in pain and jerked back, holding his re-

injured arm. Joe had to take his weight off Andre’s throat for a second as he did this, so

he stomped on Andre’s mid-section again for good measure and put his foot back on his

throat. “As I was saying,” he said to Sokov.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sokov’s eyes were watering in pain as he held his arm

protectively.

“I’m Ian Russell’s brother, and I’m looking after Ashley Wilde’s interests.”

Sokov stopped short, his surprise evident. He quickly regained his composure. “All

right, all right. What makes you think he paid me off?”

Joe smiled a not particular friendly smile at him. “Because he told her that he would take

care of it, and then he told her that he did. So he did. I’ll believe him over a dumb

bookie like you any day.”

Sokov was starting to regain some of his defiance. “Yeah, well, her debt is back on. And

fifty isn’t going to cover my – my pain and suffering any more.”

Without warning, Joe leaned over and slapped Sokov hard, knocking him out of his chair.

Sokov struggled to his knees. “Try again,” Joe said in a quiet tone of voice.

“All right, OK,” Sokov said, still on his knees but his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“He gave me the money, but the guy who gave it to him took it back. He said it wasn’t

your brother’s to give, so I’m out my money and that dumb broad has to pay.”

“Who took the money back?” Joe asked, already knowing the answer.

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Sokov shook his head vigorously. “You can come in here and rough me up all you want,

but there’s no way I’m telling you his name. Look what they did to your brother. If you

think I’m risking that kind of shit, if you think you can scare me into helping you – forget

it. You’re in over your head, friend.”

Joe stood up, easing off Andre’s throat but giving him a menacing look to keep him on

the floor. He shook his head. “Lots of people keep telling me that, but here we are with

both of you on the floor. But, anyway, it doesn’t matter if you tell me or not. I don’t

need the name. I already know.” Joe scowled and his eyes went cold. “But let’s be clear

about one thing here.”

Sokov looked suspicious. “What?”

“Ashley Wilde debt is paid. In full and forever. If you can’t keep your hands on your

money, that’s your problem, not hers.”

“But…” Sokov started to protest.

“Shut up,” Joe cut him off. “I’m looking after her interests, and if I ever hear about you

threatening her, talking to her – even coming near her, then you’re going to think what

happened to my brother was merciful by comparison to what I’m going to do to you and

your bodyguard here. “Got it?”

Sokov looked as though he had gotten off too easily, but nodded in agreement. “Your

brother told me that, too. He couldn’t make it stick.”

“I will,” Joe told him. Joe knew that his threat was largely meaningless, because in about

a day both of them were going to be behind bars for Robert Wilde’s murder. But they

didn’t know that and he didn’t think it would hurt. He walked out of the office without a

backward glance.

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When he got outside the office the guard gave him a smirk. Joe stopped. “Hey, buddy,”

he said in a friendly voice.

“Yeah, what?” the guard said, trying to look both bored and tough at the same time, and

mostly just ending up looking stupid.

“Are you good at anything?”

The guard now looked confused. “What?”

Joe’s friendliness dropped and went cold, like an icy front moving in. “If you’re good at

anything else, you should do that, because you’re shit at this job. You should try

something else while you still can.” Joe paused a second, then turned on his friendly

smile. “Got it?”

He walked away leaving the baffled guard behind. He had a few preparations to make

before his little visit with Jack Holland.

Chapter 53

Jack Holland woke up with a start, feeling disoriented. He jerked his head around wildly,

but the blackness was total; he couldn’t see anything. He must be in bed, he thought,

because he seemed to be lying down. The thing was, though, it didn’t feel like his bed,

and if it were his bedroom there would have been a light from the hallway. Perhaps he’d

picked up some strange broad and this was her apartment.

Now that he thought about it, he seemed to be laying on top of his hands, which was

peculiar. They must be asleep, he thought, because he couldn’t really seem to move

them. Actually, he realized, he couldn’t seem to move his legs either. He tried

experimentally to wriggle his feet, but found they were immobile as well. Oh, my God,

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he thought, I’m paralyzed, in a moment of pure panic. Calm down, he told himself

sternly; he could still feel his arms and legs; he just couldn’t move them. Maybe it was

some kinky sex thing, he thought wildly, still holding out the faint hope that this was a

safe situation and that the girl would wake up soon and let him go.

He suddenly remembered getting out of his car in his garage -- alone, he realized

significantly -- but not making it into the house. There had been a blow on his head – it

still hurt, he suddenly realized – and that was when the memories stopped. He had an

overwhelming sense of panic and struggled to move, but it was to no avail.

“Waking up, are we?” a calm voice said from somewhere above him. He tried to orient

his head so he might catch a glimpse of the person speaking, but he still couldn’t make

anything out. “Who’s that?” he asked tentatively.

“You know who it is,” Joe said. “But that’s not important.”

“Where am I?”

“That’s not really important either.”

“Please! Where am I?” Even as he asked, Holland was frightened of the answer he

might hear.

“OK, you asked,” Joe said brightly. “You’re in a hole in the ground, buried up to your

neck. You can try to scream if you want, but there’s no one anywhere near. You can try

to get out of the hole – I mean, if I wasn’t here – but you’ll find that, between the duct

tape around your wrists and ankles and the several hundred pounds of dirt covering you,

you’re pretty helpless. Basically, you’re in a bad situation here.”

“Why can’t I see? Am I blind?”

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Joe shook his head, although, of course Holland couldn’t see him. “You’ve got a bag

covering your head.”

“So I can’t see your face?”

“Mr. Holland, I think you already know who I am,” Joe said.

“Who are you?” Holland screamed. He frantically tried to free himself, but as the man

had promised, he was trapped. He desperately tried to think of who would do something

like this. Gaines came immediately to mind, but the voice definitely wasn’t his. He

rapidly ran through a short list of other candidates, but couldn’t think of anyone crazy

enough or ruthless enough to put him in a situation like this. Sweat started to form on his

brow. “Get me out of here!”

“Not so fast, Mr. Holland. I need to know a few things first.”

“Fuck you!” Holland screamed. “Let me go! Now! I have powerful friends. You’ll pay

for this!”

Unseen to Holland, Joe smiled. “Yeah, maybe, but that doesn’t really help you right

now, does it? Besides, no one is ever going to find you here. You’re just going to be a

body filling up a hole in the ground.” He paused for effect, heightening the drama. “You

know what’s going to start happening pretty soon?”

“What?” Fear made his voice crack. Holland could think of several options, none of

which was promising.

“Oh, pretty soon the worms and the ants are going to get real interested in you. Maybe

you feel them crawling around on you already.”

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Now that the man mentioned it, Holland did think he felt something on his leg, or maybe

it was on his stomach. “Let me go!”

“We can talk about that, Mr. Holland,” the voice assured him. “But you’re going to have

to help me first.”

Sweat was streaming down Holland’s face now, and he was definitely sure that

something was nibbling on his upper thigh. He shuddered. “What is it? Money? I can

get you money, but you have to let me go.”

“This isn’t about money, Mr. Holland. Have you figured out who I am yet? It would

make things go a lot faster.”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Let me go and I’ll make it worth your while.

Just tell me what you want.”

There was a long period of silence, and Holland despaired. He feared the man had gone

away and just left him there to the insects. Then the voice spoke to him, in the calmest

manner imaginable. “Why did you call Ian Russell and ask him to meet you at the

warehouse?”

Holland was nonplused. That was about the last thing he expected, as well as about the

last thing he wanted to talk about. He tried to stall. “I don’t know what you are talking

about.”

There was silence from above, then he heard movement. He was startled when

something landed near his head. “What’s that?” he cried out.

“Dirt,” Joe said simply. “If you can’t answer my questions, you’re no use to me.” He

threw another handful of dirt near Holland’s head.

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“Wait!” Holland screamed. He squirmed again to no avail. “I told the police everything

I know, which is nothing. I was at the club all night. Even the police said my phones

didn’t show any record of me calling this guy Russell. Hey, I never even met the guy.”

Joe threw down another handful of dirt, this time hitting Holland on the head. “You want

to know something? I put the bag over your head so that when I cover your head with

dirt you won’t die right away. You’ll have a little pocket of air. I figure you can live

three, maybe four days before you die. By that time you’ll probably be a little ant farm or

something, but you’ll have a memorable few days dying slowly.”

“You’re Russell’s brother,” Holland said in amazement. “You’re the guy who came to

see me.”

“Maybe. It doesn’t really matter who I am. All you need to worry about is answering my

questions.”

“I already told you – I don’t know anything about your brother.”

For effect, Joe sighed heavily, stood up and picked up the shovel. He loudly dug into the

loose dirt, then shoveled some into the hole near Holland’s head. Holland’s terror

increased. “Wait!”

Joe paused. “Well?”

Holland thought furiously. “He’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“Jack,” Joe said kindly. “I don’t think you’re appreciating the big picture here. You’re

in kind of a bad spot here already. What might happen to you later is not your first

priority.”

“You don’t know him,” Holland whispered. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

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“Oh, I have a pretty good idea on both counts,” Joe said. “But I also know that you’re

going to die a slow death underground if you don’t tell me what I need to know. That’s

not a good way to die, my friend. He’s not worth protecting.”

Joe knew that he had crossed some moral line here. Knocking someone out, trussing him

up like a chicken, and interrogating him while he was buried up to his neck in a shallow

grave was not generally considered socially acceptable. His friends and coworkers, not

to mention the police, would be shocked to know what he was doing. They’d want him

to just report what he knew to the police and let them take care of it. Well, he’d tried that

route, and it wasn’t delivering results, so he had to take matters into his own hands,

whether his actions would be considered moral or not. Joe figured that Holland had

forsaken any moral high ground long ago, when he agreed to do business with Jazy.

Having met Holland twice now, he didn’t really think the man had actively participated

in Ian’s killing; he liked others to do the real dirty work. On the other hand, he did

believe that Holland had set Ian up, and he was going to get the story out of him, one way

or another. He didn’t really think he was going to have to kill Holland to get his answers,

but he was prepared to go as far as he needed to. If Holland confirmed his suspicions

about Jazy, Joe knew that he have to go even further over that fuzzy moral line. It didn’t

bother him in the least. He knew he was doing the right thing.

Holland was frozen with fear. Fear of dying this anonymous black death, and equal fear

of the things Jazy would do to him if he ever found out. “I can’t,” he croaked out,

squeezing his eyes shut.

Joe pursed his lips. “I also know that you knew my brother, and that Elina Jazy

introduced you. Her father didn’t much like that, did he?”

There it was. Holland gasped audibly. “You already know?”

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“I know and I’ll deal with Mr. Jazy later. Right now I need you to tell me how it went

with Jazy and my brother.

Holland broke. He blurted out how Jazy had come to him, and how Jazy had laid

everything out exactly as he wanted it done. He told Joe the conversation he’d had with

Ian, how excited Ian had been about the prospect of doing some business with him. How

he’d known Jazy meant Ian great harm, and went along with his scheme anyway. He’d

made the call, sent Ian on to whatever his fate was, and spent his evening hobnobbing

with the crowd at Darci’s without giving Ian a second thought. He shuddered at the

recollection, and Joe felt himself grow even colder. He knelt over the hole, where only

Holland’s head was still visible.

“That’s what I needed to know, Jack,” he said softly.

Relief flooded Holland. “Now let me out! I told you what you wanted.”

“We have to get something straight first, Jack.”

Holland froze with fear again. The man wasn’t going to let him out after all. “You said

you’d let me go if I told you what you wanted. I kept my end of the bargain.”

Joe smiled to himself. “Actually, I didn’t exactly promise you that. I said we’d talk

about it.”

“Let me go!”

“You have to understand, Jack, that if you tell anyone about our little conversation it’s

going to be bad for you.”

“What?”

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“I mean, if you tell Jazy you’ll have to admit that you gave him up, and we both know he

won’t like that at all. If you tell the cops about your little adventure here, well, I’m pretty

sure I was at home all night. So this is our little secret, right?”

“Right!” Holland agreed excitedly. At that point he would have agreed to just about

anything, but in this case Russell was right. Better that Jazy never hear about this than

hear about it from him. If this crazy guy Russell tried to take on Jazy, he’d just end up

dead like his brother. Holland just had to hope that Russell wouldn’t blurt out anything

he’d said when Russell was under whatever duress Jazy was likely to put him. He

realized there was silence above him. “Hey?” he said experimentally, then more loudly.

“Hey!” There was no response; Joe had slipped away, silent as a ghost.

It took Holland several hours to extricate himself from his almost-grave. The dawn was

just breaking when he shook off the last remnants of dirt.

Chapter 54

Joe met Juanita Kincaid at the same diner he’d had coffee with her and Reilly a few days

ago, although it seemed like a lifetime ago. It was becoming their regular place, he

thought ironically. He got there first, and waited patiently for her to arrive. He watched

the other patrons, engrossed in their meals or conversations with companions, and

wondered what dramas they had going on in their lives. He wished he were back in his

usual world, worrying about business or kid’s parties or other more mundane affairs. He

shook it off when he saw Kincaid come in the diner.

She was dressed in a pair of slacks, blouse, and a blazer, and he could see the pistol in her

hip holster. The other people in the diner probably just saw the pretty young woman

attracting more than her fair share of stares, even a couple appreciative comments. She

either ignored them for the most part, although she did give one particularly persistent

suitor a withering glance. She slid into the booth across from Joe. “Been waiting long?”

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Joe smiled at her. “Not long. I’d say something nice to you about how you look, but

after seeing how you put down that other guy I think I’ll pass.”

Juanita preened slightly at the buried compliment. “Thanks. I’d have been nicer to him

if I’d known that it might have encouraged you.” Joe raised a questioning eyebrow in

response.

The waitress came by and got Juanita some coffee, refilling Joe’s cup too. They agreed

they were hungry and ordered some lunch as well. Joe had a grilled ham and cheese,

with fries, while Juanita ordered a salad. He teased her about her order, both about how it

ran counter to the cop stereotype and the risks she might be running with salad makings

from a diner. She made a face and tried to repeat her withering look, but failed and

cracked a smile instead. “I’ll take my chances. We don’t all eat donuts and fries, you

know. So, you were saying?”

Joe rubbed his head wearily. “You first. What’d you find out from Lopez?”

Juanita nodded her head, as though to say ‘OK, that’s how you want it.’ Her face took on

a more professional air. “Well, I had a couple more conversations with our friend Delray.

I was thinking about your question about the bats, and I got to thinking about what other

details he might not know.”

Joe smiled, suspecting what was coming and pleased that he’d judged her right. She

could have just let the case sit, but it didn’t sit quite right and she couldn’t accept that.

Juanita smiled at her recollection of the follow-up interviews with Lopez. “Well, it turns

out that Delray couldn’t quite remember how he got there. You know, did he come with

Waterstone, was your brother in the same car or a different car, that sort of thing. And he

had no pat story about where they went afterwards. He told a couple different versions,

enough to make me really doubt he was there at all. Don’t get me wrong – he’s a damn

good liar – but he’s definitely lying.”

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“You don’t have to tell me.” Joe smiled encouragingly.

Juanita leaned in. “I checked around a little more about Lopez and Waterstone. Delray is

an ambitious young man, and there was no love lost between him and Waterstone. If a

bright guy like Delray wanted to get Waterstone out of the way, this wouldn’t be such a

bad choice.”

Joe shook his head. “It was a stupid move. Once this has all settled down Delray is

going to find himself dead. These people don’t leave loose ends like that.”

That got Juanita’s attention. “Which brings us to what you have to tell me. Who are

‘these people’ and what do Sokov and Wilde have to do with all this?”

The waitress arrived at that moment with their food, allowing Joe to increase the

suspense. He even took a bite of his sandwich, and chewed deliberately to prolong it.

Juanita watched him with some frustration, then laughed and took a bite of her salad. Joe

cleared his throat. “It’s kind of complicated.”

She winked at him. “That’s OK. I’m pretty bright, you know.”

Joe winked back. “I know. OK: Sokov killed Robert Wilde. Wilde had a gambling

problem. He owed Sokov forty thousand dollars, and didn’t have any money left to pay.

They killed him and now are coming after his wife Ashley for the insurance money.”

Juanita wrinkled her brow and her fork paused in mid-air. “My understanding is that the

detectives on Wilde’s case talked to the wife and she claimed she had no idea who might

have killed him. Nothing about debts.”

Joe shook his head. “She was scared to death to tell them anything. They’d killed her

husband and she thought they killed Ian.”

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That got Juanita’s attention, in spades. She put her fork down. “Ian? Where does he fit

into this?”

Joe sat back and looked around the diner. No one was paying them any attention, just

continuing on with their own lives. He exhaled heavily. “Ashley Wilde was the woman

from the apartment you thought was Ian’s. They set her up in it and wanted her to seduce

Ian.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. What’s the connection between Sokov and your

brother? Why would Sokov set her up in that apartment?” Juanita’s face showed her

skepticism. She picked up her fork again, and started to play with it instead of resuming

eating.

“That’s a lot of questions. Let’s start with the last one. It’s simple: he didn’t,” Joe

replied. “He just wanted his money. He was promised the money if he got her to keep

Ian occupied, which proved to be harder than anyone expected.”

Juanita gave him her professional look, a mixture of doubt and cynicism, suggesting that

she wanted to believe him but that he was going to have to do better. He laughed. “I told

you it was complicated. We haven’t even gotten to the weird parts yet.”

“I can’t wait,” she said dryly. “So who was willing to pay so much money to keep your

brother ‘occupied,’ as you said?”

Joe took a drink of coffee before answering. “Marko Jazy.”

Juanita’s face showed her skepticism. “Marko Jazy? We talked to him. He was the

father of one of the women that your brother might have been involved with. He said

your brother didn’t even know his daughter.”

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“He was lying.” Joe’s tone left no room for doubt.

“We didn’t find anything linking your brother with her – oh, what was her name?”

“Elina.”

“Elina. And Marko Jazy is a legitimate businessman. Just your average, ordinary rich

businessman.”

Joe smiled a cold, cold smile. Juanita watched him and, at that moment, she knew Joe

knew something. He wasn’t just making this up. She couldn’t have said why she knew,

but she was a detective and she could tell these things. “Marko Jazy used to be an arms

dealer and drug dealer in another life,” Joe told her. “Now he just launders money for

arms dealers and drug dealers. He’s as ruthless as they come. His record is clean here,

but that just means he’s covered his tracks well. He had Sokov dangle the girl in front of

Ian so Ian wouldn’t get involved with his daughter. When that failed, he tried to bribe

Ian with fifty thousand dollars – the money you found in that apartment – and when that

failed he killed Ian. I don’t know yet if he killed Ian himself or if he had his dirty works

guy Carl Gaines do it, but, one way or another, he had Ian killed.”

“Wow,” Juanita said despite herself. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Jazy got Jack Holland to lure Ian to the warehouse, and they killed him. They

put the money and the drugs in the apartment to distract you guys, then threw Delray into

it when they got worried you might stumble upon the truth.”

“Oh, they were worried we might ‘stumble’ on the truth, eh?” Juanita said with mock

indignation.

Joe raised his hand to indicate no offense was meant. “It happens.”

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Juanita thought for a while, holding Joe’s eyes in a contemplative gaze. She needed to

process the wild story Joe had thrown at her. “Why would your brother risk his life for

this girl, Ms. Wilde? Was he involved with her?”

Joe shook his head. “No. That part of Jazy’s plan failed, but Ian got to know her well

enough to get pissed off that she was in this situation.”

“He felt responsible?”

“In a way, I suppose. I mean, it wasn’t his fault that Jazy picked her as the target, and it

wasn’t his fault that she went along with it. She could have come to the police right off

and stopped the whole thing before it got too far. But she didn’t. Still, Ian must have felt

that it wasn’t right what was happening to her.”

“And he thought he had to do something about it?”

Joe shrugged. “He was impulsive that way.”

Juanita studied him for a few moments. “You’ve been seeing too many movies,” she said

at last, but with a light tone.

“The only movies I see these days are animated.”

“That’s right,” she agreed. “You and the kids.” She paused and tapped absently on the

table, cocking her head at him. “I don’t suppose you can prove any of this.”

“It’s not my job to prove anything,” Joe told her with a faint smile. “That’s your job. My

job was to figure out what happened. Well, this is what happened.”

“I thought you were an accountant. Aren’t you supposed to have lots of facts and figures

to back everything up?”

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“I’m not that kind of accountant,” Joe said, pushing his plate away. It was still only half-

eaten, but his appetite was gone.

Juanita pushed away her plate as well. “What kind of accountant are you?”

“I figure things out,” Joe said. He looked her deep in the eyes. “I figure now that you

know what happened you can prove it. Ian wasn’t the first boyfriend of Elina’s that Jazy

tried to scare away. I talked to a few of them and they’ll testify about being intimidated.

Holland will crack if you push hard enough. Walker was a loose end, which is why they

killed him. There must be other guys like Walker who were there. Find them.”

Juanita was thinking again, lost in the plan of attack for the investigation ahead of her.

She’d need something really solid to reopen the case. The department and the DA’s

office would need some convincing, especially after the press had congratulated them on

cracking the case. “Joe,” she said, reaching out to cover his hand with her own. “If you

are right…”

“I am,” he assured her, very aware of her hand on his.

“Then you should leave town,” she finished. “If they’re tying up loose ends, you may be

one of them.”

“Maybe,” Joe said, sounding unconvinced.

She looked at him meaningfully. “You’re getting in a little over your head here, don’t

you think?”

He smiled at her. “So people keep telling me.”

“You’re not going to do anything impulsive, are you? Like your brother?”

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Joe shook his head. “Not me. Ian was the impulsive one. I’m the accountant,

remember? I ask for help when I need it. Like now.” He waited a beat, and put his other

hand over hers and squeezed. “I’m not quite ready to leave, but you can do me a favor.”

Juanita pulled her hand back. She widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise. “Another

favor?”

“Yeah, another favor,” Joe said with an easy-going smile. He grew serious again.

“Listen, if they come after me, I’ll call you on your cell phone, OK?”

She would have preferred that he went away until she could get her hands around this

mess, but she had a feeling this was the best compromise he was going to agree to.

Accountant or not, he didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who walked away when it got

too hot. She nodded. “Day or night.”

“If I call, you bring out the cavalry. Jazy is bad news, but his guy Gaines is the real

threat.” Joe looked extremely serious.

“Gaines,” she said, making a mental note.

“Don’t bother checking up on him,” Joe advised her. “He doesn’t have a record. Gaines

isn’t his real identity. Thing is, he’s some kind of ex-Special Forces – maybe Delta,

maybe something else. He’s very bad news. If he comes after me and I call you, come

with the SWAT team.”

Chapter 55

Joe went to see Elina at her office later in the afternoon. She had told him and Ashley the

previous night that she was going to confront her father, even finally quit her job, but Joe

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managed to persuade her to not do anything rash quite yet. He asked her to go in to work

as though everything was normal. He slipped past the receptionist using a gaggle of other

workers as cover, then managed to find her office by asking a few people in their cubicles

where he might find her office.

“Joe?” she said in surprise when he came to her door, her assistant protesting. “Nancy,

it’s OK. Come on in.”

He came inside just enough so that his voice wouldn’t be easily audible from the hall.

“Want to take a walk? Take your purse and your car keys, like you’re not coming back.”

Elina appeared confused, but complied. She gathered up her purse and turned off her

computer, saving a couple of documents first. She told her baffled assistant that she was

going out, and Joe could see the surprise in her face, a look repeated on the main

receptionist’s face. As soon as they got on the elevator, Elina started to ask him where

they were going, but Joe held up a cautionary hand. “Later,” he told her, and didn’t

elaborate. He walked them to a square in an office complex about two blocks away, and

sat her next to him near the artificial waterfall. The sound of the water was reassuring but

noisy. “Now we can talk,” he said approvingly.

She looked back at the fountain incredulously, then surveyed the area for any suspicious

characters. “You think we’re being followed?”

Joe smiled. “You never know. Listen, last night you said you wanted to help. Did you

mean it?”

Elina gulped. She had thought about little else since their evening the previous night. On

the one hand, there was her father, who had single handedly raised her, provided her with

food, shelter, even a job once she was an adult. OK, maybe he was not the warmest

father, and maybe he’d delegated her upbringing to a series of nannies and boarding

schools, but he was still her father. On the other hand, there was this quiet man she knew

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so little about, other than he was the brother of a man she very possibly had fallen in love

with. He had told her outlandish things about her father, things no rational person could

believe – yet there was something about him that made her believe him. Outlandish or

not, his story made some sense of her life. If her father had been responsible for Ian’s

death, that meant she was responsible for his death too, and she couldn’t just shrug that

off to protect her father. “Yes,” she said steadily.

Joe looked at her carefully. “Are you sure? You need to be sure.”

Elina smiled weakly. “I’m sure. I mean, you’re not going to kill him or anything, are

you?” Her smile faltered when she saw that his expression didn’t change. Her mouth

dropped. “Are you?”

Joe looked away. “I need to talk to your father alone, Elina. Without Gaines and without

his bodyguards. I need to have him tell me what happened.”

Elina’s eyes widened. “I don’t need to worry about you killing him. He’ll kill you! Are

you nuts? Leave this to the police.”

He turned to face her. “I’m not going to let him kill me, Elina. But I need to get him

alone. Will you help me?”

Again, Elina felt torn. He really was crazy, trying to see her father. Once again, though,

her obligation to Ian won out. If seeing her father was what Joe felt was what he had to

do, she’d help, despite the risks. She nodded. Joe relaxed. “OK, here is what I want you

to do,” he started to explain.

Joe called Debbie around the usual time. She put Melissa on first, and she happily ran

through her account of her day, a day filled with little joys and satisfactions. She got a

little sad when it was time for Doug to get on the phone, and told him how much she

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missed him. He assured her that he missed her too, and would think about her when she

went to bed later. Doug was similarly talkative, and grumbled about Melissa trying to

play with him and some of his friends during the day. “She’s too little,” he complained.

“I wish she’d just go away. Why does she have to be a girl?”

“Doug,” Joe said softly, but with an edge that Doug was already learning meant he’d

better pay attention. “We’ve talked about this. She’s your little sister.”

“I know,” he said dramatically, as if to complain about the injustice of it all.

“That means you have to take care of her,” Joe reminded him. The lesson had never been

as real to Joe as it was now, and even an eight-year-old Doug could sense how serious his

father was. “When she gets to be older she may take care of you too, but it will always

be your job to take care of her. She’s the only sister you have.” Joe wasn’t sure that

Doug was old enough to draw the parallel to Ian and himself, but the thought made his

eyes water.

“But why do I have to take care of her? She’s a girl and she does dumb things.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Joe told him. “Your sister, your mother – you take care of your

family. When you’re older it will be your wife and your kids, but Melissa is always

going to be your younger sister. Understand?”

“I guess so,” Doug said, sounding unconvinced.

“That’s part of being a man,” Joe said, his voice so soft that he was almost talking to

himself. On the other end of the line Doug struggled to hear, not wanting to miss what

his dad was telling him. “Part of being a grown-up.”

“I understand,” Doug said proudly.

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“You have to take care of Melissa and your mom, especially when I’m away, all right

Doug. Can I count on you for that?”

“Yes, sir,” Doug said. He’d never felt so important or so grown-up in his life, and he’d

never meant anything as much as he did that. Joe’s heart felt like it might burst with

pride. “Now put your mom on the phone.”

Debbie came on the line, after Joe heard Doug yell for her, then run away whooping out

his sister’s name. “My,” she said, sounding impressed. “That must have been some talk

you had with him. He was beaming.”

“We just had a little man-to-man talk,” Joe informed her. “Guy stuff.”

“You’re not telling him about S-E-X over the phone, are you, you coward?”

“Not yet,” Joe said, smiling.

“So when are you coming home, my dear?” Debbie asked, trying to keep her tone light.

Even over the phone she could tell the change in mood her question caused her husband.

“Soon,” he said distantly. “I’ve got to wrap up a few things.”

“So you keep saying. I’d think things would be pretty wrapped up by now!” she teased,

but recognizing that it wasn’t working. Her heart rose in her throat. Something in his

tone was different. It didn’t sound like the Joe Russell she was used to. It sounded

colder, harder – not towards her, but she sensed it nonetheless, and realized at once what

it meant. “You know who did it, don’t you?”

Joe could not bring himself to answer. His heart felt so big it threatened to choke him.

“Do the police know?”

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“Yes.”

“Are they going to arrest this person?”

“It’s complicated. They think they already know who did it.”

“Why do they think that, especially if they know about this other person?”

“It’s a long story,” he said. “It’s a long story and I don’t know the end of it yet.”

Debbie took this in. She knew her husband, and her voice was quiet with courage when

she spoke. “You’re going to do something about it, aren’t you?”

Joe took a deep breath again still didn’t answer, not knowing what to say.

“Aren’t you?” she prodded, tears suddenly in her eyes.

Sitting alone at the breakfast bar in Ian’s apartment, surrounded by Ian’s things, Ian’s

memories, yet talking to his wife and thinking of his own precious memories, Joe was

almost overcome with emotion. “It will all be over soon, honey, I promise.”

“Then you’ll come home?” she asked, her voice nearly breaking. “You’re not going to

do anything stupid, are you?” She regretted the words as soon as she’d said them. Joe

might do a lot of things she didn’t agree with, but he never did anything stupid.

That at least got Joe to smile. “No, nothing stupid,” he promised slowly.

They finished up their goodbyes, exchanged their love several more times, and Debbie

again unsuccessfully tried to extract a more specific timeline from him about his return.

When they finally got off the phone, Debbie had to go to their bedroom so the kids

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wouldn’t see her cry, wondering if she’d ever see him again. Joe continued to sit,

looking at the phone like it was the last life preserver on a sinking ship, his last

connection to the world he so longed to be in. He wished he didn’t have to do what he

knew he had to do, but there it was. Not yet, he thought sadly. There was more he had to

do before Ian could lie in peace.

Chapter 56

At exactly twelve-thirty that night, Marko Jazy’s bedside phone rang. He had just drifted

off to sleep, but he woke immediately. Only a few people had that number, and if they

used it that late at night it was important. He turned on the light on the table beside the

bed and grabbed the phone. “Yes?” he answered in a curt tone of voice.

“Father, I need to see you,” Elina said, her voice choked with emotion.

Jazy considered this. He had heard that Russell had shown up at Elina’s office in the

afternoon, taken her out, and that she had not returned or been seen since. Even worse,

word of Russell’s clumsy interrogations of her previous boyfriends had gotten back to

him. Who knows what Russell had told her, or what she believed? Perhaps Russell had

even kidnapped her. He kept his voice calm as he started to play out different scenarios.

“Yes, dear. Why are you calling so late?”

“I need to talk to you. Tonight. Meet me in your study in a half an hour.”

“My dear…” he started to say when the phone went dead.

Jazy thought for a moment, then sighed. Impulsive Elina, causing another complication.

He called Gaines and briefly explained the situation. Gaines told him he’d be over as

soon as he could, but probably not before Elina arrived. Jazy smiled and told him to take

his time – knowing Gaines undoubtedly had company – but he might need Gaines to help

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clean up any mess afterward. “All right, I’ll be there in an hour,” Gaines said, turning his

attention back to his willing but handcuffed female companion, who looked at him with

Ecstasy-glazed eyes. “Maybe an hour and a half.”

Jazy got up, put on a robe and slippers, and went into the hallway. He told the guards he

was going to be in the study for a while, and they could take a break. He made his way to

the study and went to his desk, turning on his desk lamp.

“Hello, Marko,” an unexpected voice said.

Jazy was startled. Gaines was the only person who would dare to come uninvited into the

study, and Jazy knew Gaines was nowhere near. When he saw who it was sitting

comfortably in the armchair, he had trouble believing it. It took a moment, but only a

moment, for him to regain his composure. He leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Russell,” he

said, eying Joe carefully. “What a surprise. I believe they call this breaking and

entering.”

“Thanks for coming, Marko,” Joe told him, ignoring Jazy’s comment. “I figured you and

I had some catching up to do.”

Jazy was rapidly assimilating the situation and growing more confident. Russell must

have convinced Elina to make the late night call and to let him in the house. That

decided the issue; Elina had become too big a problem. Russell had unknowingly

provided him with a very neat solution.

Jazy made a steeple with his fingers. “What shall we talk about, Mr. Russell? World

politics? The stock market? I rather doubt we have much in common.”

Joe eyed him with a steady look. “There’s always my brother.”

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“Oh, yes, your brother, the poor pathetic bastard. What shall we discuss? His drug

dealing?”

“I think we both know Ian was no drug dealer,” Joe said. “I’d like to talk about why you

killed him. Maybe you can explain that to me somehow.”

Jazy got a thoughtful expression on his face. “Is this just you and I talking, Mr. Russell?”

“Just you and me.”

“No one hiding behind the drapes, no police listening in? You’re not wired, are you?”

Jazy raised these questions as though they were perfectly normal options that two adults

might talk about.

“Just you and me.”

Jazy nodded thoughtfully. “You don’t mind if I verify that, do you, Mr. Russell?” Joe

shrugged his indifference, and Jazy opened a desk drawer and pulled out a device. Out of

the corner of his eye he also verified that his gun was still there; Russell was too stupid to

have even checked on something like that before ambushing him. Jazy turned on the

scanner and checked that there were no electromagnetic waves being transmitted. It was

possible that Russell was wearing a tape recorder, but, if so, Jazy figured he could find

that when he got rid of his body. He turned off the scanner. “As President Reagan used

to say, ‘trust but verify.’ I think that’s good advice, don’t you?”

Joe shrugged again, letting some contempt slip into his facial expression. “So why did

you kill him, Marko?” he asked again, using Jazy’s first name like he was working some

stupid street thug.

Jazy had to work to control his anger; people usually spoke to him with more respect. He

let his guard down. “He pissed me off, Mr. Russell,” he said, letting the satisfaction

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show. “I tried to be patient, I even gave him some money to stay away from Elina, but

the stupid fuck not only went back on his word, he even used my money to pay back the

money that stupid whore owed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Somehow I doubt Ian promised to stay away from your daughter. He was too stubborn

for that.”

Jazy smiled. “He was indeed stubborn, right until the end. I took great satisfaction in

seeing him die.”

Joe’s expression didn’t change. He had known Jazy had done it, and had a pretty good

idea of how Jazy would feel about the murder. He had almost everything he needed from

his little visit. Both Joe and Jazy were surprised to heard a rustling from the drapes and

see Elina charge out. “You bastard,” she screamed, coming to within a few feet from her

father’s desk. “How could you do it?” Tears were running down her face.

Jazy was even more surprised to see her than he had been to find Russell in his office, but

he was not too surprised to notice that Russell appeared equally surprised. He didn’t plan

this, Jazy thought, and he started to think about how he could use this advantage. He

placed his right hand on the desk to be closer to the open drawer. “My dear,” he said as

calmly as he could. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard everything you said,” she told him hotly. “Joe told me you killed Ian. Part of

me believed it but at the same time part of me couldn’t believe it. I had to hear it for

myself.”

Jazy watched her, not with the look of a father but with the cold eyes of a predator seeing

new prey. He looked back at Russell. “Things have gotten complicated, haven’t they,

Mr. Russell?”

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“She’s not part of this, Marko,” Joe said softly. “Let her go and we’ll finish our

business.”

Jazy shook his head, enjoying it. “You know, I believe I’ve gotten too soft over the last

few years. Instead of dealing harshly with your brother from the start, I let Gaines talk

me into trying to divert him. Then when you came along, I made the same mistake. I

didn’t take you seriously enough. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Joe stared at him with expressionless eyes. “There won’t be a next time, Marko. You’re

through.”

Elina followed the conversation with a baffled look on her face, turning her head as each

of them spoke, like she was watching a tennis match. She could not believe how

unemotional these two men were about what they were talking about. She couldn’t stand

it. “You killed Ian,” she accused her father. “And you have the nerve to sit there and

talk about it like it was one of your business deals.”

Jazy smiled at her and raised his left hand to indicate the trifling nature of the matter. “It

meant less to me than a business deal, my dear. You are a very naïve young lady.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise and she took an involuntary step backwards. When

she had recovered marginally she screwed up her courage. “What about my mother? Did

she matter less than a business deal when you killed her?”

Jazy raised his eyebrows and lowered his hand, putting both hands flat on the desk before

him. He sighed. “Your mother was a strong-willed woman. When she came to this

country she forgot her place. When I found out she was having an affair, I had to see that

she got what she deserved.”

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Elina’s eyes filled up with tears. She had suspected the worst, intellectually, but had not

been prepared to hear him admit it, certainly not with such a self-righteous, cavalier

manner. He seemed to have no remorse about it.

Joe watched her with infinite sympathy, his eyes softening from the coldness he felt for

Marko Jazy to the sadness he felt for her. She had some terrible surprises, and they

weren’t done. He turned back to Jazy and his heart grew hard again. “Tell her the rest,

Marko.”

Jazy jerked his head towards Joe, and shifted his expression uneasily. He was not

prepared for this, and cursed himself again for not dealing with the man sooner.

“What rest?” Elina demanded, part of her already both fearing and hoping she knew what

Joe wanted her father to tell her.

Jazy kept his eyes on Russell. His fury was barely under control, and it was not clear

whether the venom in his voice was directed at Russell or at two people long dead. “It

turned out that the affair had been going on longer than I had realized, my dear. Her

lover was your father.”

Elina’s knees weakened and she stumbled to the second chair across the desk from the

man she had grown up thinking was her father. “You’re not my father?’ she gasped.

“Who is he? Where is he?”

“He was someone who worked for me. After your mother’s death, I had him slowly

roasted to death, listening to him scream in agony. He begged my forgiveness, and

begged me to not hurt you.”

Joe had turned to watch Elina. He reached over and patted her arm with faint comfort,

and looked back at Jazy. Jazy seemed untroubled – even pleased – by the account. “And

how did you take care of Elina, Marko?”

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Jazy smiled evilly. “It would have been much too kind to simply kill her. She was so

much like her mother. Always looking on the bright side, always expecting happiness no

matter what happened. So every time you made a friend, or found a teacher or a school

you liked…”

“Or started to fall in love,” Joe interjected softly, glancing over at Elina.

“Especially when she started to fall in love,” Jazy agreed with emphasis. “I’d find some

way to snatch her happiness away. Change schools, arrange for her friend’s father to

transfer, and of course you now know about her various boyfriends.”

Elina put her hand to her mouth in horror. “You’re a monster,” she whispered, in shock

at the enormity of the calculated destruction of her attempts at human relationships that

her father’s hand had engineered.

“Perhaps,” Jazy agreed, untroubled by the accusation. He reached into the drawer and

took out the pistol in a smooth move. He pointed it directly at Joe and was pleased to see

at least a minor look of what he took to be distress in the man’s eyes. “Now, I’m afraid,

all this lovely reminiscing must come to an end.”

“Father!” Elina said without thinking.

Jazy looked at her just briefly, then looked back at Joe in case he tried something stupid.

“I thought I had explained all that.”

“But – you can’t just kill him.”

Jazy smiled, feeling pleasure in his total control of the situation. “Can’t I? Perhaps you

don’t realize the situation. Mr. Russell here was obsessed about your supposed

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relationship with his brother. Several people can attest to his efforts to find you. Well,

apparently tonight he broke into the house, found you and killed you.”

Elina’s eyes went wide. “Killed me?”

Jazy was enjoying himself. “Yes, killed you. I haven’t decided yet how he killed you, or

if he took the time to rape you first. When Carl arrives in a little bit we’ll discuss it. But,

anyway, I arrived too late to rescue you, but I was able to shoot Mr. Russell. Justice will

be served.” He looked with smug at the tidy solution. All the pieces fit together nicely.

He began to look forward to seeing Elina’s body with something other than a paternal

interest; it had not been easy to control these urges as she had grown into a woman. Too

bad they would not have much time; her death had to be reasonably close enough to

Russell’s for the story to work.

Elina looked at Joe for support, hoping he could somehow still help her. He turned his

head and shook his head slowly. “It will be all right, Elina.”

Jazy laughed. “Oh, no, Mr. Russell. It will be all right for me, but not for either of you,

I’m afraid. I mean, you don’t have a gun there, do you, Mr. Russell? You are, after all, a

Quaker, which means you are a pacifist, as I understand it. I could give you a gun and

you still couldn’t defend yourself, or my lovely daughter.” He said the last word in a

mocking tone of voice that emphasized his years of deception.

Joe turned back to Jazy with an impassive expression. “Nope, no gun. I don’t like guns.

They’re too dangerous. You should put that one down before you hurt yourself.”

Jazy laughed. “There’s not much chance of that, I’m afraid. You and Elina are the only

ones here who are going to get hurt. Oh, I’ll play the grieving father after Elina is good

and dead, but I’ll be fine, don’t you worry.”

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Russell’s stare was strangely ominous. “Don’t do it, Marko,” he told Jazy. “You’ll

regret it.”

He made no move to get up. He also showed no sign of fear, and Jazy was annoyed that

he was taking it so calmly. It must be that silly religious faith of his. Jazy had nothing

but disdain for religion, especially ones that urged turning the other cheek. He had never

turned the other cheek in his life, and would never have been satisfied with merely

trading an eye for an eye. One always inflicted greater damage, preferably something

particularly daunting to anyone else who might get any ideas. “You are a fool, Mr.

Russell,” he said to Joe, contempt filling his voice. “You think violence doesn’t solve

anything, but I often find it to be the best solution. Like now.” Without any further

hesitation, he pulled the trigger.

The gun went off with a loud explosion. Elina threw her hands up to her face

protectively, but when she peeked out she was surprised to find Joe getting up out of his

chair, apparently unscathed. On the other hand, her once-upon-a-time father was covered

in blood. He had suffered massive damage. His right arm was entirely missing – gushing

blood from the ragged stump -- and he was also bleeding heavily from several gaping

puncture wounds in his chest and face. The specially designed charge that Joe had

obtained from his contact had done its job, turning a deadly bullet meant for him into an

explosion that did maximum damage to the person holding the gun. He’d had time to

place the charge in Jazy’s own gun before Jazy had come down to the study tonight. A

very thorough forensic examination would reveal evidence of the explosive, but Joe knew

that was not going to happen.

Jazy was in shock, and losing blood rapidly. He tried to sputter some words through the

blood in his lungs and the utter confusion he felt. He also realized, with growing fear,

that he was dying. “But…you’re a Quaker,” he managed to blurt out in surprise.

Joe came to Jazy’s side of the desk, and assured himself that Jazy was hurt badly enough

that he would bleed to death in a few minutes. “My wife is the Quaker,” he told Jazy

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matter-of-factly. “I’m not.” He surveyed the damage to Jazy and was satisfied things

had worked as planned. “I told you that you’d regret trying to shoot me.”

Jazy was already having a hard time hanging on to consciousness, but he knew that

Russell must have done something to the gun to cause this. He didn’t know how Russell

had gotten into his house, or what he had done to cause this disaster – in his own study,

of all places! – but he was beginning to understand why the other Russell’s last words

had been to warn him that this one would come. He should have killed the entire Russell

family at that point, as he would have in the old days, but he had become too

Americanized. This was the price he had paid for that softness. Jazy’s eyes showed his

confusion, but also revealed his calculation. He turned to his only other available option.

“Elina,” he cried out, his voice betraying the pain and even fear that he was feeling.

“Help me!”

It was typical of his chutzpah, Joe thought. He tells Elina that she’s not his daughter, and

was quite prepared to simply kill her a few minutes ago, but now that he needs help he

had no qualms about asking her once more. The trouble was, Joe wasn’t sure how Elina

would respond. She’d been through several shocks over these last few days, and most of

all in the last few minutes, but she had grown up believing that this damaged man was her

father. Joe had planned for the noise of the explosion being contained by the

soundproofed walls, but he hadn’t planned on Elina’s presence. He could not afford to

have Elina call for help. Even worse, he could not even afford for her to wait for Jazy to

finally die; he simply did not know how long it might be until Gaines might turn up. He

wanted to avoid tangling with Mr. Gaines under these circumstances.

Elina had not moved since the initial shock of the gun blowing up. Her once-father’s

words seemed to reach her from a distance, traveling slowly, as if heard through water.

She slowly came out of her trance, with Joe watching her closely. If she made the wrong

choice, he would have to deal with her – whatever that took. He was surprised by her

reaction. “God damn you, you bastard,” she said, her eyes burning holes into Marko

Jazy’s own eyes. “Just die.”

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Jazy took in these words and seemed to shrink marginally, as his last chance to help was

instead cursing him vehemently. Joe walked over to Elina, grasping her arm to get her

attention away from Jazy. “We have to get out of here. Did anyone see you come?”

She finally tore her gaze away from the carnage, and shook her head slowly. “No.”

“Good. We need to get out of here unseen.”

“Where are we going?”

“You should go home, and do your best to act surprised when they come to tell you the

bad news. You were never here, I was never here, and none of this happened. Never talk

about what happened here, not to anyone. Do you understand?”

Elina was still moving in slow motion. She looked once more at Marko, whose eyes

were now closed and whose breathing becoming more ragged. She turned her attention

back to Joe. The expression on her face was utterly serious, and not a little tragic. “I

understand,” she said simply.

They made their way out of the house and the grounds silently and went their own ways.

Joe felt sorry for her, but he had other things on his mind tonight than her emotional

health. She would have to deal with it herself, hard as that might be.

Elina watched Joe walk away, wondering if she would ever see him again, wondering if it

all was, indeed, over -- or just beginning. She sighed deeply and walked to her car to

play out the rest of the night’s events.

Chapter 57

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Joe waited patiently in the dark, sitting on the far edge of the couch in Ian’s townhouse.

From that vantage point he couldn’t be seen by anyone until they entered the room, but

by listening very carefully he could hear movement coming from any direction in the

townhouse. It was late and he was tired, but he had no trouble staying awake and alert.

This was the end game and he would be ready.

It was not until almost four in the morning that he heard a faint rustle coming from the

back door. He’d expected that, although he hadn’t ruled out a side window or even –

knowing what he knew of Gaines – walking boldly through the front door. He pressed

the programmed buttons on his cell phone, and waited. If he had not been listening

intently for it, he’d have missed the sounds of movement. Gaines was very good, moving

as stealthily as a cat in the dark. He slipped first into the master bedroom, then moved

into the hallway to check the guest room next.

“Hello, Carl,” Joe said calmly. “I’m going to turn on the light here, so don’t freak out on

me.” He flipped the light switch and caught Gaines standing frozen in the hall.

“Up late, are we, Mr. Russell?” Gaines said. If he had been momentarily surprised by

Joe’s presence, then that moment had passed before the light came on. He looked as

though it was perfectly natural that he was visiting the home of a man he’d helped murder

in the dead of the night, and that the murdered man’s brother was sitting up waiting for

him. He moved over and took a seat on the chair, some ten feet away from Joe. Joe

noticed that he sat on the edge of the chair, ready to move in an instant. Anyone else

sitting like that would have appeared stiff and uncomfortable, but Gaines made it look

like he was as casual as could be.

“I left the front door open so you wouldn’t have to break in, but you still came in the

back.”

“Don’t worry,” Gaines assured him. “The lock was a piece of shit. I could have opened

it with a handkerchief.”

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“Oh, well,” Joe said, watching Gaines with some interest.

Gaines looked around the room, then back at Joe. He raised his hands, palms up. “We

have to talk.”

“So talk.”

“You may or may not be surprised to find that Marko Jazy died tonight.” Gaines

watched Russell closely as he said it, trying to gauge his reaction, but Russell showed

neither surprise nor sorrow.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Gaines waited a few seconds to see if Russell would ask or say anything, but he

appeared entirely indifferent. “His gun blew up on him in his study.” He looked

searchingly at Joe. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? I mean, his

gun just happening to blow up and all?”

Joe just shook his head.

“No, I didn’t think so,” Gaines said appreciatively, if not quite convincingly. He

laughed, finding gristly humor in the situation. “Hell, it blew off his arm, ripped him up

good. Blood everywhere. The poor bastard bled to death in minutes.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” Joe remarked.

Gaines nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t know what they’re going to rule this one.

Accident? Murder? Suicide? Hard to say.”

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“I’m guessing they’re going to find it was suicide,” Joe suggested. “I’m thinking he saw

the error of his ways.”

“Maybe so.” Gaines leaned forward just slightly, smiling coyly. “We’re a lot alike, Joe

Russell. You and me.”

Joe’s face showed his skepticism. “How do you figure?”

Gaines laughed again, seeming to enjoy the situation immensely. “Leave it to that poor

dumb fuck Walker to screw up something as simple as checking you out. He got the wife

and kids, he got the job, but, you know, he kind of completely missed the fact that you

went to the Naval Academy. Or that you spent ten years in the service, the last five of

which you were detailed someplace so secret that I couldn’t track it down even calling in

some special favors. I’m thinking NSA, maybe CIA. What was it?”

“I really couldn’t say,” Joe said without emotion.

Gaines nodded again. “So, you know, we’re both the kind of guys who get done what

needs to get done. The kind of guys who don’t go into a room without sizing up the other

people in the room and how to take them or make a quick exit if we need to. The kind of

guys you really don’t want to get into a fight with.”

“I don’t get into that many fights, to tell you the truth.”

Gaines smiled, seeming to be amused and still entirely relaxed. “I’ll bet you win the ones

you do get into. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to spar.”

“So what do you want, Mr. Gaines?”

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The good humor vanished from Gaines’ face, like a light going off. “You had to deal

with the man who killed your brother. I can appreciate that. I respect how you figured

things out, and took care of the situation.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joe said flatly without any emotion, just

making the ritualistic protest that was expected.

“Yeah, whatever.” Gaines studied Joe with his cold eyes, and Joe matched his stare.

“With Jazy gone, his business is going to fall apart. His daughter won’t get anything.”

Joe shook his head. “In the first place, Elina isn’t really his daughter, and, in the second

place, I don’t think she really gives a shit about his dirty money.”

Gaines sat back slightly. “Not his daughter?” He appeared genuinely surprised.

Joe kept his poker face. “It’s a long story.”

“Hmm,” Gaines said almost to himself, working through the implications of that new

information. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m going to have to leave.”

“Get a new identity.”

Gaines nodded. “Get a new identity, start over. I have plenty of money stored away.”

Gaines leaned forward a millimeter further. “What I need to know is, is this thing over

between us? Your brother is dead, Marko is dead. Either we call it even and we both

walk away, or I have to end it here. And if I end it I clean up all the loose ends. Your

wife and kids, your parents. Elina.”

“Delray Lopez,” Joe added, not allowing the threat to his family register.

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Gaines waved his hand like swatting a fly. “Delray’s dead, or will be soon. That was my

second phone call after I found Marko.”

Joe seemed to think for a few seconds. Gaines was encouraged by this. He thought

Russell was a reasonable sort, and would take what he knew he could get. He actually

respected Russell, more than he had Marko. Nonetheless, he was quite prepared to carry

out his threat. He’d come here to kill Russell. He didn’t believe for a second that Russell

would stop until he’d gotten everyone involved with his brother’s death, but he was

curious to see what Russell would say. Hey, he thought, maybe he’d give the guy a

chance. A guy like Russell, maybe he understood not everything was personal.

“I need to know what happened to Ian,” Joe told him, appearing to consider Gaines’

offer.

“What?” Gaines wasn’t quite expecting this. He’d just wanted a simple yes or no, not a

negotiation.

“I need you to tell me the story. Don’t leave anything out. I need to hear the whole

thing, then I’ll give you your answer.”

“I could have just killed you, you know,” Gaines said. “A bomb or a sniper shot. Maybe

poison your water. You’d never know I was coming or be able to stop me. The point is –

I didn’t have to come here and have this little chat. You could be dead right now.”

“I know.”

“But I wanted to give you the chance to clear the air. No one is going to grieve after poor

Marko. We’re square in my book. But I don’t want to spend the next few years looking

behind me for you coming after me.”

“So tell me the story and we’ll see where we are.”

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Gaines thought that this was odd, but decided perhaps Russell needed it for closure of

some sort. He leaned back. “OK. It started with Elina…”

Gaines was a good storyteller, and managed to weave the story of Ian’s and Jazy’s fatal

dance into a compelling tale, told with flair and efficiency. He didn’t gloss over his own

involvement, or spare Joe the gruesome details of Ian’s final moments. “Your brother got

in a few good licks there towards the end, you know; he did himself proud. But he

shouldn’t have ever gone into that room without being prepared,” Gaines concluded. “I

liked your brother – he had attitude – but you’d never have done that. I’d never have

done that. You know, right at the end he warned us about you, said you’d be coming

after us. We laughed at that, especially once we learned more about what we thought you

were, but now I can see why he did it. You’re a scary guy, Russell.” He stopped, waiting

for Joe to respond. He thought it was going to be over, but he was prepared to move fast

in case he was wrong.

“What was it about, really?” Joe asked. “Was it really about Elina? Or was it the

money? Or maybe Jazy just lost it?”

Gaines laughed, again finding humor in the gristly story. “Yeah, all of that, but mostly

Marko’s pride was hurt when Ian pissed on him about the money. He hated people to

snub him like he thought your brother did. Your brother didn’t know how to back off,

not even for a second.”

“No, no, he didn’t,” Joe agreed softly. He moved up on the couch, and leaned forward.

“You’re wrong about you and I being alike, you know.”

Gaines frowned slightly. “How so?” he asked, keeping his tone light but preparing to

counter any sudden moves.

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“You act just on your own, no real loyalty to anything. Joe and me – we have family, we

know when something means something. My brother and I were alike,” Joe told him

with quiet force. “I don’t have anything in common with you.”

They both heard the sound at the same time. Gaines took a quick glance towards the

source, but Joe kept his gaze fixed on Gaines. Gaines smiled. “That would be Detective

Kincaid, unless I miss my guess.”

Kincaid came around the corner with her gun drawn, having come in through the front

door, which was unlocked, as Joe had subtly let her know while she was eavesdropping

on Joe’s conversation with Gaines. She’d obviously not had much time to get ready,

simply having thrown on sweat bottoms, a t-shirt -- and a Kelvar vest. She wasn’t

wearing any make-up and hadn’t fixed her hair, but Joe thought she looked beautiful.

And fierce and lethal. “Freeze, you dumb fuck!” She trained her gun on Gaines.

Gaines seemed entirely delighted by this new turn of events. “Let’s see,” he said, looking

back at Russell. “There weren’t any surveillance vans outside – I checked – so I’m

guessing a cell phone, right?”

Joe nodded and took the cell phone away from where it had been laying by his side. He

put it on the coffee table in front of him. “It’s on voice mail too. The whole thing.

You’re screwed here, Carl.”

Gaines should have looked worried, but instead he seemed to be only pretending to think

about the situation. He looked slowly over at Kincaid, then back at Russell. He

shrugged. “Women. Give them a gun and see what happens?”

Kincaid was furious. She’d dealt with suspects who didn’t respect her physical presence,

who thought because she was a woman that she couldn’t handle herself. Well, she knew

she could handle herself just fine, and she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if she had to. Still –

something about Gaines scared her. Maybe it was the warning Joe had given her

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previously, or maybe it was the entirely casual attitude he seemed to have towards

violence and death. She had been genuinely chilled by Gaines’ recount of Ian Russell’s

eventual demise, and was determined not to let him get away. Gritting her teeth, she

started to move closer, Gaines still ignoring her. “On your knees, Gaines,” Kincaid

shouted. She advanced a step, wondering why Gaines seemed so calm. “Hands behind

your head! I don’t want to have to shoot you.”

Gaines appeared no more moved by her threat than if she had been a two year old waving

a toy. He smiled at Russell, two men of the world confronted by a woman overstepping

her limits. Joe matched his stare but not his humor. It made Kincaid even more angry

that Gaines still seemed to be treating this as a matter between the two of them, just the

boys, as though she were merely a side amusement. And Joe, who she felt should know

better, seemed to be going along with Gaines’ attitude. He kept his eyes strictly on

Gaines.

“You know what they say about making love to a gorilla, don’t you?” Gaines asked

Russell, as though this was the most natural line of conversation.

Kincaid risked taking her eyes off Gaines for a second to see how Joe reacted. He

seemed only mildly interested, and shook his head just the barest amount.

Gaines held Russell’s eyes. “It’s over when the gorilla says its over, not when you want

it to be over.”

Joe nodded. “And you think you’re the gorilla?”

Gaines smiled broadly.

“I don’t know about gorillas,” Kincaid inserted. “But you’re the one who is fucked here,

Gaines.”

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Gaines looked at her only long enough to indicate his lack of fear – or even his contempt

for her – and turned back to Russell. He smiled knowingly. “I could take her, you

know.”

Kincaid almost gasped. The audacity of the man astounded her, but a shudder ran

through her as it hit home that Gaines meant it – not boasting, not bragging, but simply

stating what he took to be an undisputable fact.

On the other hand, Joe seemed just sad about it. “Maybe you could, Carl,” he said softly.

“It’s me you don’t know if you could take.”

At that Gaines furrowed his brow just slightly, and he regretted not having taken a better

measure of the man earlier. Russell alone or the woman alone, or the woman with just

about any other man, and he’d have no doubts. When he looked at Russell, though,

staring at him with that unflappable expression, knowing what he knew about his

background – for once he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t think Russell was sure, either, but

what mattered was that Gaines himself didn’t know, and wasn’t quite ready to take the

risk. So he hesitated, and the opportunity was lost.

The SWAT team burst into the room from all directions. They covered Gaines, taking

Kincaid’s admonishments to be very careful quite seriously, and quickly had him trussed

up, his hands and feet both manacled. Gaines took it all with as much dignity as possible

under the circumstances, acting as though he was simply tolerating the inconvenience.

He continued to match stares with Joe. His look was one that was going to haunt Kincaid

for a long time. “It’s not over, Joe. Not by a long shot,” Gaines told him ominously

once they started to pull him away. He resisted their efforts long enough to make his

point to Russell. “Too bad you didn’t get much sleep tonight, because every night from

now on you’re going to be wondering if you’re going to wake up, or if your wife and kids

will be there when you wake up. I’ve met them, you know. I’ve talked to them. I can

get to them anytime I want. You’ll never know when it’s coming. Welcome to hell.”

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“Whatever,” Joe said, unimpressed. Gaines stared at him until he was dragged out of the

room.

Once Gaines was gone, Joe smiled appreciatively at Kincaid. He didn’t seem at all upset

by what had happened or by Gaines’ threat. “I was glad to see you show up, but I have to

admit I was wondering when the cavalry was going to arrive,” he told her dryly.

She tried to frown at him, but could only manage a relieved and fond smile, her heart still

racing. Their lives had been in great danger and Kincaid wasn’t entirely convinced that

they were now truly safe, but Joe seemed entirely unaffected. She breathed a long sigh of

relief. “I think the cavalry was here when I got here.”

Chapter 58

It was several hours later when Kincaid found occasion to rush back to Ian Russell’s

townhouse. She expected to find Joe sleeping, but she feared to find him dead. She did

not expect to find him doing what he was doing. She pounded on the door and was

relieved to have him answer the door a few seconds later. “You’re all right,” she said

with relief.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Joe said calmly. He invited her in, and she immediately saw

that he had been busy. The apartment was much more deserted than it had been a few

hours ago, and several half-filled boxes stood within sight. She stopped short. “What’s

going on?”

Joe moved around her and went to one of the boxes. He started sorting items from the

bookcase. “I’m packing up. I already took Ian’s clothes to Goodwill, plus most of the

appliances and kitchen stuff. I’m going through the stuff I want to keep. Some for my

parents, some for me, and a few things for a couple of Ian’s friends who wanted some

keepsakes.”

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It was amazing how quickly a home could go from being filled with a reflection of its

inhabitant’s personality to just being a set of rooms. Ian hadn’t been much of a saver,

and hadn’t been too sentimental about keeping things, but there had been enough to fill

the townhouse with some measure of his vibrancy. The pictures on the refrigerator, a few

souvenirs from tropical vacation spots, disorganized papers and bills – gone. Joe had

packed or given those away, and the emptiness of the townhouse was now overwhelming.

“You’ve been busy,” Kincaid said, somewhat distracted.

Joe just nodded. He offered her something to drink, and she accepted a bottle of water.

She noticed the refrigerator had been virtually cleaned out as well, and had to remind

herself why she had rushed here. “You’re in danger,” she said, turning to face Joe

resolutely.

“What, again?” he said in a teasing voice. “That would explain the squad car that pulled

up a while ago.”

“Weren’t you curious?”

Joe shrugged and smiled. He didn’t seem too worried about it. “Somehow I figured

you’d come explain it to me. What’s up?”

Kincaid took a deep breath. “You better sit down,” she said, and they both sat down at

the breakfast bar. “Gaines escaped.”

Joe frowned and his eyes narrowed. “What?”

Kincaid put her hands flat on the table. “We took in him and started questioning him.

Reilly took a team out to the Jazy house, started working the crime scene. Much to his

surprise, the feds showed up about an hour later with a subpoena for the house. Man, it

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was like someone had stirred up the federal anthill. There was FBI, DEA, IRS, ATF –

you name it, they were there. The DA is shitting over all the jurisdiction fights. I guess

they finally got wise to what Jazy was up to.” She glanced knowingly at Joe.

“Imagine that,” he said noncommittally.

She raised an eyebrow. “So, anyway, we worked Gaines for a few hours.”

“He didn’t lawyer up?” Joe asked, not surprised. Gaines was too smart to incriminate

himself, and, anyway, Joe suspected he wasn’t expecting to go to trial.

Kincaid shook her head. “Nope. I think he was having too much fun screwing with us. I

mean, thanks to you we had a confession from him that not only had two witnesses but

also was caught on tape. He acted as innocent as the baby Jesus, just denied everything

and spent more time trying to bait whoever was trying to get him to talk. I had several

very interesting – er, read perverted – offers from him myself.”

“So how did he escape?” Joe asked, needing to understand the situation.

Kincaid shook her head. “The feds wanted to talk to him. The DA stalled them for a

while, but ended up agreeing to letting them have him for a few hours, but they wanted to

interview him at the Federal Building.”

“Oh, no,” Joe said, already thinking of what Gaines was capable of doing. “Did he kill

the guards?”

“They were experienced Marshals, Joe,” Kincaid said. “These weren’t some kids.”

“So what happened?” He wasn’t underestimating the U.S. Marshals, but they weren’t

used to guys like Gaines. Not many people were. Still, he was comforted that the way

Kincaid was talking, it sounded to him that at least Gaines hadn’t killed anyone new.

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“The transport van got cut off – front and back – by two vans with tinted windows. A

team of these, I don’t know, heavily armed ninja SWAT commandos swarmed the van,

blew the doors open, and forced them to give Gaines up. It was over in less than ten

seconds. The guards said they’d never seen such a professional job.”

“They’re all right?”

Kincaid nodded, and Joe smiled. Joe seemed relieved more than by just the fact that the

guards were safe, and Kincaid couldn’t figure out why. She frowned. “What are you so

happy about? The guy who was ready to kill both of us a few feet from here just a little

while ago is back on the loose. Yeah, maybe he’s smart enough to cut his losses and get

out, but from the way he was talking I’m worried for you and your family.”

Joe got up and walked over to the counter. He leaned back against it and looked fondly

at her, a look that surprised Kincaid. “Gaines isn’t going to come after me or anyone

else.”

“Why not?”

Joe shook his head in mock amazement at her. “Who do you think those guys who took

him were?”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why, Jazy’s men, of course.”

He walked back over to her and sat next to her. He exhaled. “Gaines is back with the

people he ran away from. They’ll take care of him. Gaines would have escaped sooner

or later, and he probably would have killed someone in the process. This was the only

way that he was going to be neutralized.”

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Kincaid studied him carefully. Joe had seemed surprised when she told him Gaines had

escaped, but that was because she had gotten the story wrong. He wasn’t surprised that

Gaines had been taken. He’d expected that. No, she realized, he’d counted on it. Gaines

in police custody was a loose end, as far as Joe was concerned. He’d had to be sure.

Stalling for time, she brought him up to date on the other loose end. “Our friend Delray

Lopez is dead.”

He nodded. He’d warned her about this, and even though they had Lopez in protective

custody it hadn’t mattered. “How?”

“Hung himself in the shower, where the cameras weren’t on him. With a belt.”

“Imagine that,” Joe said. He put his hands on the bar and seemed saddened. “Mr. Lopez

wanted to play with the big boys a little too badly. He was over his head.”

“We all were,” Kincaid admitted. She looked at him with a look that was mixed

admiration and suspicion. “I think you were about the only one who knew what was

going on and could handle it.”

Joe just looked at her, neither denying nor admitting anything. She continued. “You

figured it all out, and then you pushed all the right buttons to end it. Oh, maybe we could

have built a case against Jazy, but there was a chance he’d have beaten the rap. Gaines

might have gotten away. It was risky, wasn’t it? So you played it your own way.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Joe protested, but without anything behind it.

It was just the expected thing to say, and both of them knew better.

Kincaid thought for a moment. “Those things Gaines said about your past, about that

special ops shit – that’s all true, wasn’t it?”

Joe showed no reaction. “It was a long time ago, Juanita,” he said at last.

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She waited to see if he would elaborate, but it became clear he had said all he intended to

say on the topic. “I was thinking.”

He waited for her to finish, but she had stopped to see if he’d ask, so he obliged her.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a funny thing about Jazy’s gun, don’t you think?”

“How so?”

“I mean, it blowing up like that.”

Joe stared carefully at her. “Guns are dangerous things.”

She stared boldly back at him. “I know,” she said. “What I’m wondering is what he was

shooting at.”

Joe smiled. “Maybe he was cleaning it. Maybe he liked to shoot out windows. Maybe

he saw the error of his ways and decided to kill himself. I don’t really care. Do you?”

She waited a beat. “I don’t suppose so,” she said, her lips pursed. “I don’t think the DA

will either, to be honest. You’re a piece of work, Mr. Joe Russell.” She looked around at

the boxes. “So you’re just leaving?”

Joe nodded. “This afternoon.”

She shook her head. “There’s going to be hell to pay, you know? Jazy’s dead, Lopez is

dead, Gaines is gone, Wilde’s murder is mixed up in all this – and Waterstone’s lawyer is

screaming bloody murder about false arrests, lawsuits. It’s going to get ugly. People are

going to lose their jobs.”

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Joe just looked at her steadily. “It’s not my problem.”

“The DA’s going to want to talk to you.”

“She can call me.”

“I could lose my job,” she complained.

“You won’t.”

He sounded pretty sure of this. She wasn’t really all that worried about it, but it was nice

to know Russell thought so too. “What about Elina Jazy or Ashley Wilde? You don’t

figure they’ll be needing you? I think they’ll miss you.”

Joe shrugged. “My family needs me more. Elina will be OK. For the first time, she’ll be

on her own. She’ll be fine. Ashley – well, I worry she’ll end up with some other loser

that she has to take care of, but not much I can really do about that, is there?

She had to smile. “You’re quite the ladies man, you know, just like your brother.”

“I’m flattered,” he said with a faint smile. “I may be like Ian in some ways, but I’m no

ladies man. I’m just a one-woman guy. I think that, eventually, he would have been too.

Maybe with Elina.”

Kincaid was going to say something else, but in the end there wasn’t anything really to

say. She exhaled deeply and slid off the stool, coming perilously close to him as she did

so. She noticed that he didn’t flinch or edge away. On the other hand, he didn’t seize the

opportunity either. She moved a couple of feet away. “You going to tell your wife about

all this?”

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Joe stood up but didn’t move closer. “Yeah, most of it. She’s a very forgiving woman.”

Kincaid raised her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?” she said with a smirk.

Joe got the message. “Not that forgiving,” he chided her with a tolerant tone of voice.

Kincaid eyed him playfully. “You ever date a woman of color, Joe?”

“Come again?”

For once, she thought he was surprised. She laughed. “Never mind. Let’s see. You’re

taken. Your brother, God rest is soul, is unavailable. Any other male Russells out there

that I should know about?”

Joe shook his head. “Well, there’s my dad, but I think my mom would put up a pretty

good fight for him.”

“Just my luck,” Kincaid said with a smile that didn’t go all the way down to her heart.

She studied Joe carefully, seeing in him a world of sadness but at the same time a world

of hope. “You know, in a way, fidelity caused everything.”

“How do you figure?” Joe asked, not sure if she was joking or not. Neither was Kincaid.

“Well,” she told him. “If Ian had just slept with Ashley Wilde, then he’d probably still be

alive. Elina would have her father – well, the guy she probably would have still thought

was her father – alive, Ashley would have had her husband alive. All those people dead

just because Joe was faithful to Elina Jazy.”

Joe looked at her without emotion. At last he shook his head and gave her a wry smile.

“Nope, it doesn’t play that way. Ian died because he was stubborn, yeah, but mostly

because he was trying to do the right thing. For Elina, for Ashley, for himself.”

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“Not a bad way to die, if you have to die,” Kincaid agreed dubiously.

“No, I suppose not,” Joe agreed absently, lost in memories he didn’t want to have but had

anyway. He shook himself and gave her a forgiving smile.

“You’re kind of stubborn yourself, you now? The other day when we were talking about

your brother helping Wilde, you said he was impulsive that way, but you weren’t. I

guess you were wrong about that, eh?”

He held her gaze. “Believe me, there was nothing impulsive about anything I’ve done.”

Suddenly she felt almost chilled. She was very glad he wasn’t mad at her. “That stuff

Gaines said, about killing you or your family. You were taking an awful risk, weren’t

you?”

Joe shrugged. “I don’t think it was Gaines’ style to kill my family, not just for revenge.

Jazy, yeah, but not Gaines.”

“He’d have come after you. If I’d been a few minutes later…”

“But you weren’t.”

Kincaid smiled. “No, I wasn’t. But if I had…”

“Then he would have killed me and it would have been someone else that would have

taken care of him. My father, for one.”

She stared at him in surprise. “He’s kind of old, don’t you think?”

He smiled back. “He’s getting up there, but he’s got a few tricks left in him, plus he’d

have a head start because you’d be able to tell him where to start.”

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“And what if Gaines killed him too?”

“Then it would have been someone else. A friend of mine, or one of my dad’s. But

someone would have made sure this didn’t end on their terms.”

Kincaid looked at him as though he was describing another world, one she’d heard of but

hadn’t believed in until this moment. “And risking your life, your father’s life, maybe

even your wife and kid’s lives – avenging your brother was worth all that?”

He looked back at her, almost feeling sorry for her. “It wasn’t about avenging him. They

didn’t just kill him. They wanted to humiliate him, then poison the memory of who he

was all this drug stuff. Make people believe he was someone he wasn’t, someone darker

and untrustworthy. Those of us who knew him couldn’t let that happen. He deserved

better. Someone had to make it right. You know, sometimes you have to do the right

thing, regardless of the risk, just because it’s the right thing to do.” He smiled at her.

“Hey, you’re a cop. You do that everyday, for people you don’t even know. Is it so

strange that I’d do it for my only brother?”

She studied him again like he was from some other planet, as if she’d never see his like

again and was sorry about that. She made up her mind. There wasn’t much else for them

to say, nothing much else that was going to happen. It was time to go. “Joe, it’s been

real. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Joe told her solemnly. “I’ll be back in town sometime to finish

settling Ian’s affairs. We can get together then, OK?” She nodded her head in

agreement, although she wasn’t sure that was going to work out that way. Joe looked

around the apartment, a lost look appearing on his face for the first time since she’d

known him. “Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

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He gestured around them at the remains of Ian’s home. “You live your life, and when

you’re gone someone just packs up your stuff in a few boxes. Seems like it should be

harder than that, doesn’t it?”

For a moment Kincaid thought she was going to cry, or that maybe he was, but the

moment passed. “You were there for him, Joe,” she said fiercely. “He never lived one

minute of his life without you being there for him.”

He tried to force a smile. “Yeah, look where that got him.”

“You did what you could. And wherever your brother is, he’s got to know that you’ll

remember him the rest of your life, that he’s part of who you are. Not many people have

someone like that.” She stopped, fighting back sudden tears. “I don’t.”

He looked at her gratefully, and he’d have given her a hug to thank her had the

circumstances been different. “You do now,” he promised.

She had to blink back the tears, now ones of gratitude instead of sorrow. Because of the

kind of person he was, he had that kind of ability, to change feelings for the better like

that, she thought to herself in amazement. She took a deep breath to get her emotions

back under control. “Goodbye, Joe,” she said at last, extending her hand.

“Goodbye, Juanita,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it. They held on to each other’s

hands a few moments longer than necessary, and held each other’s eyes with a look that

was part tenderness, part longing, and mostly regret. In a different place, under different

circumstances – who knew? But it wasn’t going to be. She started to walk away, then

suddenly stopped and turned to him with a strange look on her face. “Hey.”

“What?”

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“What you said to Gaines, about him not knowing if he could take you too.”

“Yes?” he asked, grimacing.

“Well, could you have taken him?” she asked intently.

Joe thought for a moment, a serious look on his face. Then he shrugged and his face

smoothed out into a more neutral expression. “We’ll never know now, will we?”

It suddenly came to Joe that Ian would have wanted to know. He hopefully would have

made sure that he’d taken care of Jazy first, to make sure the job was done, but he’d have

wanted a crack at Gaines. Not in some warehouse, caught by surprise and badly

outnumbered, and not with a SWAT team backing him up either, the way Joe had played

it. Just him and Gaines, mano a mano, last man standing and all that. And, who knows;

maybe Ian could have taken him. As for himself, well, he could live without knowing

how he would have fared.

Juanita laughed and turned to walk away. She got into her car and drove for a block,

until she was out of sight, before she started to cry. She sat in the car and cried for the

might-have-beens, then pulled herself together and drove away.

Joe watched her drive away from the window, his emotions mixed but knowing there was

no other way. Suddenly he felt desperately tired, the weight of everything suddenly

coming crashing down on him. Ian’s death hadn’t really been real until now. He’d had a

job to do since he’d been here. First it was getting Ian’s affairs in order, then it became

taking care of whomever killed him. He’d done both duties like the good soldier he used

to be, like the good brother he’d always been, but now his jobs were done and the aching

void of the world without his brother was so deep and so dark that it scared him. It

scared him because he wasn’t prepared for the sadness, for the emptiness he felt.

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Despite his weariness, he kept packing, trying to focus on his last remaining task at hand.

He found himself thinking about what Juanita had said. He was putting these

memorabilia of Ian’s life away, but he didn’t need things to remind him of Ian. He’d

always have a brother, where it mattered most. He’d have to work on making sure his

kids remembered their uncle, that he didn’t just become a long ago piece of family

history, the tragedy no one talks about. Well, he’d make sure that they talked about Ian,

and he’d try to pass along some of that spirit that Ian had in so much abundance. He felt

better about things, and suddenly he wanted to be home so badly that it hurt. He missed

the kids, his missed his wife, and he missed his life there with them. For a while there he

wasn’t sure he was going to make it home to them, Kincaid’s faith in him

notwithstanding. He’d done what he could here, and it was time to go. Ian would be

with him there, as he had always been.

He thought about what he would tell his wife. He’d tell her about Elina and Ashley, of

course, and telling her about them meant he’d have to tell her about Marko Jazy and how

twisted he was. He wasn’t so sure he’d tell her about Gaines, and he was sure that she

didn’t need to know exactly how Marko Jazy had met his end. Just that he had gotten

due justice for what he had done to Ian.

He’d have to report back to his dad, of course, but his dad would just accept that it was

done. He’d have had faith that Joe would not cease until it was. Perhaps someday when

he was visiting his folks, after the kids and the wives had gone to bed, he and his dad

would sit out on the patio and Joe would tell him the whole story over a couple of beers.

They’d toast Ian, for the man he was and for the man he never got a chance to be. But

that was for much later. Right now he only had one person he wanted to talk to and be

with.

He picked up the phone and called home. Debbie answered it on the first ring, almost as

if she had been waiting for the call. Her voice had the sound of someone trying to hide

how deeply anxious she was, and Joe was glad that it wasn’t someone like Detective

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Kincaid having to make another, more awful call. She couldn’t see it, but he smiled

broadly, if wearily, for the first time in weeks.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said to her softly. “I’m coming home.”

THE END

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