5 Deal Killer (22 page)

“But Mikhail sold his companies, didn’t he?” Gina was rooting in
her backpack for a granola bar. It was hours since she’d munched on animal crackers with the boys and she was starved.

“True, but if Rodin bailed him out of something, maybe it had to do with his businesses.”

Miles cocked his head. “Should I look into the litigation, Gina? I’ve got some time.”

“Great.” She unwrapped a snack bar and took a bite. “Penn’s firm is Corcoran, Corcoran, and Sterling.” She looked at her watch, took another bite. “I’ve got to go and meet Bethany to sign our leases for the store.”

“How about those jumpers? Do you want them now?” Miles stood
and queried Gina, his hands on his hips.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“You know that when he says ‘jumpers’ he means ‘sweaters’?” Darby couldn’t help but tease.

“Jolly right,” Gina said. “Let’s go get them.”

_____

Time for lunch,
thought Peggy Babson, following the narrow path that led through the living room piles to the stove. She opened the refrigerator and then shut it, quickly, as the stench of something rotten assailed her nostrils.
Well, I’m not eating anything from there!
She recoiled from the fridge and opened a cupboard. Perhaps a nice
bowl of soup?

There was a whole stack of cans in the cupboard, and at least a few
of them were condensed soup. She nodded with satisfaction. The only issue now would be a clean pot.

She rummaged in a lower cabinet until she found a pot that looked
reasonably clean. She moved stacks of newspapers and boxes around on her range until she had cleared a small radius around one burner, and then she turned on the gas.

The blue flames shot up hungrily while Peggy picked her soup. The cans were all appealing, but in the end she decided on cream of mushroom. Naturally, it was the can near the bottom of the stack, but she was confident she could dislodge it without too much trouble.

Somewhere in the house she heard the cries of Pete and remembered that she owed him some food. He could have a bowl of cream of mushroom soup, too, she decided. He’d enjoy a change from plain old dog food.

She put her hands on the can of soup and yanked it quickly from the stack. For a minute she thought her rapid tug had worked, that the mound of cans would not topple. She thought of magicians who performed similar tricks and decided it was not very difficult. Just then, the entire stack of metal cans came down, straight at her head.

Diced tomatoes in their own juices and tender niblets of corn tumbled from the shelf, but it was a five-pound can of baked beans that did the damage. It struck her just above the right eye, knocking her to the floor, where her head whammed into a foot-high stone bunny. The statue was a relatively new acquisition, and missing one ear, but Peggy had spotted it on a neighbor’s front porch and felt the familiar itch that meant she had to have it.

Later, those same neighbors would find Pete outside their door, looking as if he needed a good meal but otherwise fine. The house down the street had not fared as well. The fire department described the structure and its contents as a total loss. As for Peggy Babson, she was found to have perished in the blaze.

twenty-one

A deep, resonant male
voice on the other end of the phone said Devin’s name.

Rona held her breath, her mind racing. The voice said the name again, this time in a questioning tone.

“Hey,” she said, in that breathless way her daughter said it.

“Well hey to you, too.” The man sounded older—as in Rona’s age—but she couldn’t be sure. “I was hoping you could come and keep me company later on. Say, dessert and drinks? I can’t wait to spoil my little angel.”

“Yeah.” She tried to sound eager, hoping he’d say more.

“Come to the townhouse, okay?”

“Hmmm …” She hoped that she sounded indecisive.

“Ah, come on baby, I know you prefer the Upper East Side, but Midtown isn’t that bad.” He gave the address, which Rona scribbled down.

“See you at eight, sugar,” the voice said.

Rona hung up, her head pounding. Was this the source of Devin’s pocket change? Had he supplied her with drugs, too?

Rona licked her lips. This mystery man was in for the shock of his life.

_____

Miranda pushed the buzzer of the penthouse. Beside her, panting on his leash, was Korbut. He whined.

“I know, I know, you need a drink,” she said to the wolfhound, stroking the top of his head. She’d already dropped off Mimi and Honey, after putting all three dogs through a brisk two-mile walk. At Vera Graff’s she’d asked Yvette if the rumor about an antique sword having been stolen from their apartment was true.

The maid, her whole body quaking, had said yes, and that it was the weapon used to kill the Russian man.

“Was anything else taken?”

A jittery Gallic shrug and then Yvette had surprised her by answering, “Some coins, a little horse, a crystal paperweight, and a small jeweled egg.”

Miranda had thanked her, given her Mimi, and climbed the elevator to the penthouse. She once more pushed the buzzer.

“Okay, Korbut, I guess I get to root around again for the key.” She found it, inserted into the door, and she and Korbut entered.

The apartment was not entirely quiet. Down the hallway, Miranda could hear music from behind a closed door. She reached over and unclasped Korbut’s leash.

The dog went bounding down the hallway, nudging open a doorway and bursting in. Instantly the music was louder. Miranda was wondering if that was where his water bowl was kept when Natalia appeared in the room’s door frame.

Naked.

She didn’t look down the hallway, didn’t see Miranda, but instead tugged the door closed, this time more securely. Miranda heard the click of the latch, said a quiet “huh,” and clutching the leash, left the apartment, re-locking the door behind her.

_____

As Rona approached the door of Devin’s apartment, she heard the chirpy voice of Heather Cox saying hello.

“Are you—I mean, I know you’re really upset—but is it, like, any easier today?”

Rona met her wide eyes with an unsmiling face. “No.”

“Oh. I get it.” She stood behind Rona as she unlocked the door. “Well, I’m glad I’m here to help.”

Rona was about to say she didn’t need or want any help when she stopped herself. Maybe she could use Heather’s help after all.

“Yes, I’m glad, too.”

The smile on the girl’s face was pathetic.

Rona pushed open the door and the two went in. “I wonder if you can look through the kitchen drawers and cabinets, Heather, for anything that looks valuable. The insurance company has asked me to make a list of items, and they need it right away.”

“What about valuable kitchen stuff? Like good knives? Or a Panini maker?”

“That might be good. Tell you what: look for some paper and keep track of those kinds of things, okay?”

The girl nodded and got right to work. Rona sighed and headed into the bedroom. Heather would be out of her hair for a while at least.

She started first with the nightstands, opening the little drawers and poking around on the shelves. She found a heavy crystal paper weight, decided it could be valuable, wrapped it in one of Devin’s old tee shirts and slipped it into her bag.

On the dresser, she opened a brightly colored cigar box and found
some jewelry. Nothing caught her eye until she picked up a familiar-looking watch. She flipped it over. “To CB from RR.”

The watch brought back a series of memories. She remembered finding it downtown and having it engraved with the inscription. Giving it to Charles after he bought the apartment—actually, the day he moved in—right after his wife had skedaddled. She and Charles had been close for a while there. Maybe they would be again.

How had Devin come to own this watch?

Rona let out a long hiss of air. There was only one explanation. Her daughter had been a thief.

She tossed the watch in her bag and continued looking. She’d forgotten all about Heather, hard at work in the kitchen, and was nearly finished with the dresser, when she came upon a shoebox wedged into the bottom drawer.

She sat on her haunches and opened the box. Inside was a heavy horse figurine, its body smooth and black, with eyes some kind of glittering jewels. Beside it was a small pile of coins, and something wrapped in purple velvet.

Rona unwrapped the object, which was heavy and about the size of her palm. It was an egg—but not just any egg. It was a jeweled Easter egg, light pink in color, encrusted with diamonds and pearls. She held her breath and looked at it. It was truly gorgeous.

“Cool.” The voice of Heather from the doorway interrupted her reverie.

Rona shoved the egg in her bag, but then thought better of it. “I’m sorry,” she said to Heather. She pulled out the egg and held it out. “You’d probably like to see this. I gave it to Devin a few years ago at Easter. None of these little gems are real, but it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Heather knelt down. “They look real, that’s for sure.” She held out a hand and Rona was forced to hand her the egg. The girl fingered the different enamel panels and Rona was about to tell her to stop when a part of the egg sprung open, revealing a heart-shaped frame and three tiny portraits.

“Wow! This is really amazing!”

“Yes!” Rona backpedaled, amazed at what the girl had discovered. “I forgot about that!”

“Who are these people?”

“Old family members,” Rona answered. She stuck out her hand. “Better get back to work,” she said, taking back the egg and wrapping it in the velvet.

Heather handed her a steno-sized notebook. “Here’s what I found
. Nothing too valuable.” She stood. “I’ve got to go. Have you figured out what to do about the apartment?”

“No—I’ll just break the lease, I guess.”

“I’d be interested in renting it, if you want someone to see Devin’s lease through.” She smiled. “I wrote my number down on the list. And I wouldn’t be creeped out that Devin died here, because she was my friend.”

“Uh-huh.” Rona supposed this was a compliment. “Thanks. And thanks a lot for your help.”

“No problem.”

Rona went back into Devin’s bedroom. She put the shoebox back
into the drawer and continued looking through the closets, the glittering pink egg impossible to forget.

_____

Corcoran, Corcoran, and Sterling proved an easy place to obtain information, at least for Miles Porter. Darby marveled at the way he chatted up a paralegal, telling her that he was a new guy, helping out with the discovery. “I’m making sure the case is well and truly dropped,” he explained. “I’m supposed to take my little sister out for dinner for her sweet sixteenth, and I was afraid I’d have to cancel given this whole thing.” She heard him say that yes, they’d been lucky that Rodin was now out of the picture, and yes, it had been a frivolous claim to begin with, but what could you do. A minute later, he hung up.

“Penn Cooper’s firm gave Alec Rodin bad advice on an investment,” he said,
“
and Rodin was ready to sue.”

“What kind of investment?”

“Condos in Miami. There were several investors—including Mikhail Kazakova.”

“No way! So Mikhail was probably annoyed about these condos, too, right?”

“I imagine so. I wonder whether his beef would have been with Alec, the one who got him into it?”

“Interesting. Was Penn Cooper directly on the line?”

“Doesn’t appear so, but who knows. What are you finding out?”

“I’m reading about Mikhail’s fertilizer company in the Chelya-binsk region of the Ural Mountains. The local residents claimed that toxic substances were leaching into their water supply from the disposal of chemicals used at the factory. There were lots of protests, but it doesn’t look like it really went anywhere.”

“Any familiar names?”

“Mikhail is mentioned quite a bit as the then president of the company, but nothing else.” She looked a moment more and then said, “Hang on. One of the leaders of the opposition against the factory—her name is Elena Bokeria.”

“Bokeria? Isn’t that Sergei’s family name?”

“Exactly. Perhaps it’s common in the Urals.”

“We need to find out if there is any connection. Certainly would give Sergei a reason to dislike Mikhail.”

Darby nodded. “Not sure how it helps us with Alec Rodin’s murder, though.” She rubbed her temples and scrunched up her nose. “I need some fresh air. What about you?”

“Capital idea. Let’s go for a stroll, maybe find some of those warm chestnuts.” He held Darby’s jacket for her and then shrugged on his own as well. “I’m going to need to take you for a good dinner tonight, too.”

“You’ve got it.” She turned and faced him. “Maybe we’ll talk more about Simon tonight?”

Miles shrugged. “There’s not much to talk about until we see what
happens, love. If he doesn’t want to see me, that’s pretty much the end of it.”

“He’ll want to see you.”

“Then we’ll figure out the timing and make a plan.”

“Okay.” She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Off we go to find chestnuts.”

_____

“I saw the strangest thing today.” Mikhail Kazakova was standing before the window in Miranda Style’s apartment, gazing out at the view.

She appeared with a drink and handed it to him. “What’s that?”

He took the glass and reached a hand around her waist. “Thank you, my dear.” He took a sip. “It’s quite terrible, really. I was standing on the street corner, near Wall Street, waiting with a horde of people to cross, and suddenly there was a kind of a scream, and this man next to me flew into the line of traffic.”

Miranda put her drink down. She looked at his profile, until he turned to her and laughed.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t hurt at all,” he said.

“What about the other guy?”

“He didn’t fare so well, I’m afraid. Some sort of delivery truck was coming through and he landed right in front of it.”

“He was pushed.”

“Apparently so.”

Miranda took a sip of her drink. “Do you think that shove was meant for you?”

“Me? No, I do not.” He took a long gulp of the drink. “Why do you say that?”

She sighed and sat down gracefully on a white leather couch, her long brown legs folded elegantly in front of her. “Alec was murdered five days ago in broad daylight. You’re describing an accident today in the closest proximity possible, also in the middle of the day. Yes, I think there’s a possibility that you’re a target.”

He turned from the window. “I don’t see why.”

“It could be any number of reasons, couldn’t it, Mikhail?”

“I don’t know.” He made an exasperated sound. “I suppose. What do you think I should do?”

“Have Sergei guard you.”

“Absolutely not. He’s Natalia’s bodyguard. She’s the one in danger.”

“From whom?”

Mikhail shrugged. “The world is a treacherous place. I will not remove her protection.”

“Then arrange for your own. Immediately.”

“You really think I should?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll make a call tomorrow.”

“Did you see anything or anyone when this man was pushed?”

He shook his head. “It happened so fast. I heard the noise of his yell, felt him brush by me, and then the screech of brakes … A very brutal way to die.”

“And virtually impossible to solve, unless there were witnesses or a security or traffic camera.”

“Yes. But let’s leave all that and talk of other things. You are busy? Our Korbut is keeping you in fine shape, I see.”

“Korbut, and my other clients.”

“And your other business?”

Mikhail knew that Miranda had another life, but he did not pry. She had made it clear to him that those were the ground rules, and other than some innocent questions, he did not press the issue.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “My little business on the side is going fine.”

He finished his drink. “I think we should dine out tonight. Somewhere opulent. In fact, I want to surprise you.”

“Sounds exciting. I’ll get dressed while you make the arrangements.” As Miranda chose a pale ivory dress from her closet and proceeded to put it on, she remembered seeing Natalia naked, obviously in the middle of some afternoon delight.

She decided she would not tell Mikhail, at least not now. He had enough to worry about.

_____

Special Agent David Cardazzo called just as Miles and Darby had finished their walk. They had stopped to admire the outside of Central Park Place, and were seated on a bench directly in front of the building.

“Can you talk?” The agent asked, his voice gruff.

“Yes.”

“I imagine you’re calling about the murder of Alec Rodin, am I correct?”

“Yes.” Darby could not keep the surprise out of her voice. “I’m amazed that you know.”

“Detective Benedetti provided us with a list of anyone he’d spoken with. When I saw your name, I put two and two together.” He paused. “Not difficult.”

“I see.” She frowned at Miles. So far this wasn’t going very well.

“I certainly appreciate your taking the time, Agent Cardazzo. I don’t remember if you recall our meeting in Maine—”

“Of course I do. Listen: here’s the deal. We’ve taken over this case
, so any information you discover should come directly to me.”