Undercover Lover (5 page)

“No, but I am worried about a friend of mine. Can you walk with me to my car, Detective?”

“Drake.” He reached out for her hand and shook it. “I’m sorry if I was being a jerk.”

“It’s understandable.”

Drake gave a humorless laugh. “You’re supposed to say something along the lines of ‘no, not at all.’”

“Why? You were being a jerk. But like I said, it’s understandable.”

“You don’t pull any punches, do you, lady?”

“You’re a cop. Buck up.”

Drake’s grin eased across his face. Pam’s eyes sharpened on him.

“What?” he asked.

“You do look familiar. Who was your home room teacher?”

“Man, we’re going back twenty some odd years. Mrs. Shea?”

“I’ve got to look in the yearbook,” she said.

“Don’t be disappointed when you see me. I was a bit of a dirt bag back then.”

“How did the dirt bag get to be a detective?”

“It was either that or jail,” he said and opened her car door for her.

“Come on, you can’t say something like that without explaining the rest of it.”

“If you want more details, then you’ve got to go to Nikolai’s.” He was trying not to be distracted by her luscious mouth and the black curls that the wind kept blowing in her face. Those frank blue eyes seared something deep inside him. He felt a hard coil of lust that shocked him as much for its timing more than anything.

“That’s a hard bargain. Are you going to take off your sunglasses when we get inside?”

He shook his head. “My eyes are all red and puffy from crying. It blows my tough guy shtick.”
And she might just recognize him from something other than high school, which would blow his cover.

“All right. I’ll see you there. Just one drink.”

Good luck with that, he thought as he closed the door and watched her pull away. He scanned the parking lot and the other mourners. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He nodded at the two plain-clothes detectives that were on the murder case. They were standing next to his partner. Mark and Drake were Vice, not Homicide. Nikolai’s case was better off in the murder cops hands. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that even if they caught the punks that had broken into Nikolai’s house and beaten him to death with a baseball bat, they wouldn’t be able to tie it back to Oksana.

He sauntered over to the detectives. “Did you pick up Vadim Fomin?”

“Not your case, Logan.”

“Peace, McNally. I come in peace.” Drake held out his hands. “Cut me a break. We just buried my godfather.”

“Yeah, sorry for your loss.”

Mark gave him a man hug and pounded him on the back. “Nikolai rocked, man.”

“We’re going to hunt down the animals that did it,” the other detective, Johanssen, said. “Unfortunately, Fomin has an alibi.”

“Of course, he does.” Drake kicked the dirt.

“Actually, this one is water tight. He was in police custody for resisting when they went to ask him about the doctor’s complaint.”

“It’s not his style anyway,” McNally said as he unwrapped a stick of gum and crammed it in his mouth. “We’d never have found Nikolai, or he’d have been floating in the river.”

“One thing you should know,” his partner said. “I don’t know if you checked your messages.”

Drake shook his head.

“The two scumbags that attacked Nikolai’s doctor? They’re pressing charges against her.”

“For what?” Drake exploded.

“Assault. Claims she tasered one for no reason and then beat the snot out of the little one.”

“Seriously, they’re going to pin the beating they got on Pam? That’s going to put their reps in the toilet. Who put them up to it?”

“I dunno, but the marshal is going to serve her papers tomorrow.”

“I got news for you,” McNally said. “She ain’t going to survive to go to court.”

Chapter Seven

P
am stopped by her office on the way to the wake. Anything to put off going to the bar and saying goodbye to a friend. Sitting on top of her desk, along with the rest of her mail, was a plain, brown package. It was addressed to her, but didn’t have a return address on it.

She sat down at her desk and used her letter opener to peel off the wrapper. A card was placed on the box. She opened it up and was glad she was sitting down.

“I’m sorry to hear those thugs gave you a hard time. I’ll take care of it. Please accept this gift. It was hand carved and painted in Russia. I’ll show you a trick when I see you next week. Sincerely, Nikolai Egorov”

“Nikolai,” Pam said sadly. She looked at the postmark on the wrapper. He’d sent it the day he died. Fingers shaking, she opened the box. It was a set of matryoshka dolls.

The doll was painted wearing a red and black peasant dress with a red
babushka
covering her hair.

“I know this trick,” she said, twisting the wood to separate the top half from the bottom half of the doll. As expected, a slightly smaller doll painted and carved in exact detail was there. It repeated for four other dolls. The fifth doll was a tiny version of the previous ones. Only this one didn’t open.

Pam blinked back tears. It was a lovely gift. And unlike some of the other ones he had brought to her, this one would have a special place of honor. Going into her treatment room, she rearranged her shelf to line up the dolls in a row and put her candles on either side. They were regal, just like Nikolai had been. Speaking of, she owed it to him to go to his wake and say goodbye. But first, she had to see if she could find Ralphie. She was worried that the thugs would find him first and hurt him.

She took a quick walk around the hospital and a drive around the block, hoping to spot him, but he had disappeared. In fact, it had been almost a week since he’d hightailed it out of the hospital. Maybe he’d decided to hitchhike down to Florida to be with his family. Pam just hoped he was safe.

With great reluctance, she drove to Nikolai’s Tasting Room. Parking was a nightmare, but she managed to parallel park a few streets down. When she got out of her car, Detective Logan was waiting for her.

Men in uniform always looked impressive, but Drake oozed a weird combination of menace and safety. Even in heels, she felt short next to him. She couldn’t decide if he looked really sexy in the mirrored shades or a little bit like a caricature of an FBI agent.

“I thought you might have changed your mind,” he said.

“I went back to the hospital. I’m concerned about a friend of mine. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?”

“I can’t do anything about parking tickets.”

“Somehow I doubt that, but it’s not what I was asking. Have you read the report of my attack?”

“Yes.” Drake took her arm and led her across the street into the noisy bar. “If we’re going to talk business, I’m going to need a drink first.”

The drinking had begun in earnest, and she was surrounded by people who were laughing, crying, and generally talking over one another. Drake grabbed a bottle of Stoli Cristall around the neck and pulled her into the kitchen.

“This is my favorite place,” he said. “I used to wash dishes and beg for scraps.”

“He still begs for scraps,” Marishka said, coming out of the walk-in freezer. Her eyes were bloodshot and red.

“I’ll watch the roasts,” Drake said. “Why don’t you go into the lounge and relax?”

“I will, Drago. You’re a good boy.” She kissed him on the cheek and left them alone.

Drake checked the temperature on the ovens.

“You cook, too?”

He shook his head. “I don’t screw up. That’s how Marishka puts it. He left her the bar, you know.”

“Is Andrej mad about that?”

Drake gave a short bark of laughter. “No, he’s relieved. He burns spaghetti.”

“How do you burn spaghetti?”

“Don’t ask. I’d rather eat dog food than what he cooks up. No, Marishka is like a mother to him. Me too. He’s probably relieved he doesn’t have to worry about what to do with the place. She should sell it and retire.”

“And then what?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Get the hell out of here. Go somewhere and bake in the sun.”

“Is that where you’re going to retire to?”

“I got a long way until retirement.” Drake poured them both large glasses of vodka.

Pam’s eyes grew wide at the amount of booze in the glass. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Don’t be such an American,” he said in a low Russian accent.

Yeah, the mirrored shades and the sexy fake accent were doing it for her. Against her better judgment, Pam was charmed, and her toes curled a bit when he pressed the glass in her hand. They toasted each other, and she took a deep swallow.

“Here, you’d better eat something.” He snagged a tray of crudities and fed her a carrot stick.

“Thanks,” she said after she was done chewing. “About my report…”

“The bald-headed man is named Vadim Fornim. He was in police custody at the time of Nikolai’s death.”

Pam sighed, and her knees wobbled a bit. “I thought the worst when I heard baseball bats were involved.”

“Forensics thinks it was two people who went after Nikolai.”

“Do Gregor and Piotr have alibis?”

“Yes, but we’re working on seeing how airtight they are.”

“What I wanted to talk to you about was the man who helped me. His name is—”

“Ralph Brooks. Yeah, we know.”

“I’m afraid that Gregor and Piotr will find him and kill him. He hurt them badly. Not to mention what this Vadim could do to him. What does Vadim do for a living?”

“Steals, murders, rapes,” Drake said. “I don’t have any proof, but that’s what his street rep is.”

“I thought he worked for Oksana.”

“Not officially. It’s not like he files tax forms. But yeah, your old boyfriend’s mother has been known to throw him a job now and then. You mentioned in your report that they said they were under her orders to kidnap you. Oksana and her boys are denying everything.”

Pam drank. “Oksana said as much.”

“What?” Drake said

Pam looked at her glass. This stuff seemed more potent than normal vodka, but it was smooth. “Oksana came to the hospital yesterday.”

“She did?”

“She said that she didn’t know why these men were claiming they work for her, because they don’t. She looked around my office, booked a Reiki appointment, and left.”

“What did she do to the
Feng Shui
of the room?”

“Do you even know what that means?” Pam tilted her head at him.

“Just a Wikipedia definition.”

“Doesn’t anyone do their own research anymore?”

Drake took a long swallow of vodka and stuffed a cracker topped with caviar in his mouth. He shrugged and muttered something that sounded like, “I don’t know.”

“Anyway, I diffused some cypress essential oil, and that purified the space.”

He snickered. “I don’t believe in that mystic crap.”

She blinked her eyes at him.

“Did the room get a little colder to you?” he said with a nervous laugh. “No offense. Look, I
did
do some research. On you, mostly. With your smarts and degrees, you could be at a high-priced hospital pulling down major bucks. Or being a private counselor to Madame Fifi or something.”

“I don’t want to help the Madame Fifis of the world. There are plenty of people who can help them.” Pam traced the rim of her glass with her finger. When she looked up at him, she saw her own reflection in his sunglasses. She looked a little red in the face and disheveled. Putting the glass of vodka down, Pam folded her hands primly in front of her. “Why aren’t you one of Oksana’s thugs? You certainly grew up with them.”

“Actually, Piotr and Gregor are a lot younger than me.”

“You know what I mean,” Pam said.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not Russian.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“It was for most of my childhood. I know most kids at some point wish they were adopted. It was my favorite fantasy. My parents were a horror show. My father drank himself into a stupor before deciding to go for a swim in Harding Harbor. Nikolai took me under his wing. I would have done anything for him.”

“What happened?”

Drake finished his vodka and poured some more. He tried to top off her glass, but she held her hand over it and shook her head.

“Lightweight.”

“I have to drive home. You can collapse here.”

“You can collapse here with me.”

Pam licked her dry lips and nibbled on a cracker to give her something to do. That was a tempting offer, even if it was most likely the vodka talking. She just had to make sure the alcohol wouldn’t also answer him. “So you would have done anything for Nikolai. What did he ask you to do that you couldn’t do?”

Drake shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. Just the opposite. After Dad’s death, and a good few years before, my mom’s oblivion of choice was crack. It was more important to her than anything.”

“Oh, Drake.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“What a train wreck, right? That was my life. She eventually OD’d. I wanted to kill the dealer. Nikolai wouldn’t let me.”

“Did Nikolai have someone do it for you?”

Drake twisted a grin. “Is that what he told you?”

“He didn’t cop to murder or anything like that when he talked to me.” Pam laughed nervously. “Why is everyone so sure that after sixty years of keeping his mouth shut, Nikolai suddenly decided to confess everything to me?”

“Blame the
Sopranos
.”

Pam shook her head. “He was a nice man with bad knees.”

“Did he go to you for psychological therapy or just the Reiki?”

“The lines get muddled sometimes. I know he’s dead and it might not matter to him anymore, but our sessions were private. I’ll keep his secrets.”

“Will you die for them?”

“They weren’t worth dying for—or killing for, either.”

“Just make sure Oksana knows that,” Drake said. “Vadim and her boys are planning to sue you for assault.”

“Me?” Pam changed her mind and took another large sip of vodka. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I guess they didn’t know Ralph’s name. Do you think you can get him to testify what really happened?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Why should he get involved? The less these goons know about him, the better. Besides, I can contact my lawyer and claim self defense. They have criminal records, or at least criminal backgrounds. I’m not worried.”

“You should be,” he said. “I don’t think they were planning on having this go to trial. They might use this as leverage to get you to drop the charges, or worse, beat you up in an alley.”

“They have no reason to hurt me. Oksana and I settled it. She was worried Nikolai was spilling Russian Cold War secrets or something.”

“Was he?”

Pam eyed her drink. How was her glass empty? “He reminisced. He wasn’t always a law-abiding citizen, as I’m sure you’re aware. I would imagine the statute of limitations have passed on some of the petty crimes. It wouldn’t do any good to air them now. Oksana agreed.”

“Was that all?”

She bit her lip. “Do you think Nikolai was killed because they thought he was talking to me?”

“I don’t know. I’m not buying the ‘gang members looking to score drug money’ angle that the newscasters are trying to shove down our throats. If that was the case, they would have broken in when he was with you or here. No, they planned it so they could talk to him.”

“That’s all I can think of. Part of me thinks there’s this grand conspiracy that Oksana is willing to kill for, but the less dramatic part thinks it’s just Oksana letting her guilty conscious get to her in her old age.”

Drake gasped mockingly. “Meow. I noticed there was a little friction between the two of you.”

“She and I have a love-hate relationship. As long as I stay away from Stefan, she loves me. If Stefan and I start dating, she hates me.”

“I don’t get it. You’re beautiful, accomplished, smart…” Drake trailed off.

“No, please go on, Detective. It’s not often that handsome men compliment me.”

“Well, now that we’ve gotten it out of the way that we think each other is sexy, are you seeing someone?”

Pam shook her head. “Nope. You?”

Drake shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on picking up a chick at my godfather’s funeral, but it’s looking pretty good.”

Pam clinked glasses with him. “Good luck with that.”

“Think I’ll need it?”

“Not if you keep pouring this stuff. Seriously, it’s wonderful.”

“It should be, at what they charge for it,” Drake said, looking at the label. “So you and Stefan aren’t looking to rekindle your high school love affair?”

“He’s a state away. New York to Connecticut might not be that far away for a real long-distance relationship, but our schedules don’t gel. It’s too complicated.”

“I like complicated. A cop’s life is complicated. “

“My life was pretty easy until recently. My hours got changed around. Some thugs tried to kidnap me. My boss was arrested for selling drugs. I’m just hoping everything will settle down.”

“They say bad things come in threes,” Drake said, slurring his words a bit.

“Do you think Oksana was involved in Nikolai’s death?”

“I don’t have any proof, but the timing is coincidental,” Drake said. “What do your mediations say? Isn’t that what you do in Reiki? You meditate.”

“You think I’ve had time to meditate lately?”

“It’s like sleeping during the day, right?”

“Some people do relax enough to take a nap. Why is that a bad thing?” she asked when he shook his head.

“It’s not. Hell, I could use a nap right now. Want to join me?”

“You’re obnoxious when you’re drunk,” she told him.

“Actually, I’m always this way.” He smiled again, and she saw herself smiling goofily back in his shades.

“Take off those stupid glasses.”

“Make me.”

“This conversation is degenerating to the kindergarten level.”

“I blame the naps,” he said. “Okay, I’ll get serious.” Drake took a deep breath and concentrated on annunciating his words. “Just tell me one thing. Was my godfather involved with drugs?”

Pam shook her head. “No.”

“No, you won’t tell me, or no, he’s clean?”

“He didn’t take drugs.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He wouldn’t take any over-the-counter medicine for his arthritis. I can’t see him using, or selling for that matter. His aura was very clean.” She glared at him, catching him in mid smirk. “Usually, drugs appear as shadows and toxins in the system. I didn’t detect any.”

“Did you detect any shadows and toxins in Dr. Mastandrea’s aura?”

“He was never on my table.”

“And now he’s never going to be. How did a little thing like you get a drop on him with the mop?” Drake cocked his head at her.

“That wasn’t me. That was Ralphie.”

“He’s a handy guy to have around,” Drake said.

“I wouldn’t know. I can’t find him. I’m worried about him.”

“Don’t waste your worries. People like that have a survival streak a mile wide.”