I let go of Abner and he fell back to the floor. He glared at Maks with venom.
“You’ll get nothin’ out of me. You’re wasting your time. I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”
“I know,” Maks said ominously. “But your brother will.”
He looked at me.
“Outside!”
As I left, Maks was reaching into his duffel bag. He pulled out a large knife with a black handle. I had seen it before. It was a Finnish puuko, a woodsman’s tool that became such a favorite of the Russian underworld it was banned by the Soviet Government. Maks was partial to it.
I didn’t have to wait long. It was a pleasant enough night, except for the screams. The door opened. Maks stood there, knife in hand, and nodded to me. I followed him back inside. There were now no scurrying sounds from the rafters. Whatever creatures had made them had been frightened into silence.
I looked at the twins. Both had been tied to posts, facing each other. Rufus was blubbering but otherwise appeared untouched. Abner, on the other hand, was apparently dead, and looked as if he was better off that way. His handlebar mustache was now red. I turned away, sick to my stomach.
Maks now faced Rufus. He slowly wiped the bloody blade of his puuko back and forth across the man’s leg. Rufus looked at the red stain on his pants and began to make a mewing sound. His eyes were now as wide as a barn owl’s.
“He will now tell you everything you want to know.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Maks pointed his knife at the motionless Abner Bodine.
“The power of suggestion.”
CHAPTER 18 - LEDGER
I knelt in front of Rufus Bodine, who had stopped crying. He looked at me in supplication.
“Please,” he said, “we didn’t mean to kill the kid. We thought it was you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not so sure I know how to take that,” I said, “but let’s move on. Who sent you?”
There was no hesitation. He was completely broken.
“Spivey.”
That wasn’t the answer I expected. I looked at Maks, who raised an eyebrow. For Maks, that was the equivalent of fainting with surprise.
“I thought you worked for Blaloch,” I said.
“He has us on the books at the funeral home, but Spivey calls the shots since the judge got killed.”
“Elson?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of shots?”
“We didn’t know everything, but the four of them had some sort of scam goin’.”
“Who is the fourth?”
I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from Bodine.
“Gruber.”
“And Elson was in charge before Spivey?”
“Yeah. Nobody did nothin’ without him givin’ the OK first. He was the brains.”
“Who killed Elson? You and Abner?”
“It wasn’t us.”
Maks moved closer and showed his knife.
“I swear! Man, I’d fuckin’ tell you if we did it. Why would I hold back on that?”
“Good point,” Maks said.
I leaned in on Rufus.
“Did one of the others do it?”
“I don’t know. We was as surprised as anybody. They usually used us for that kind of stuff. Me and Abner figured maybe they had a fallin’ out or something. But I ain’t even sure about that. They had a meet after the killin’ and we heard shouting. They were each accusing the others of doin’ it. But I hear they all had good alibis. They even asked us if we did it and we said why the fuck would we kill our gravy train? It must have been some nut, or one of Elson’s broads.”
This was crazy. Even the crooks seemed to be mystified by Elson’s murder. It didn’t mean that one of Elson’s partners didn’t kill him, but that was now sounding more unlikely. But what were the partners involved in? It certainly wasn’t just golf.
“Did you break into the judge’s house a few days ago?”
Rufus nodded.
“Yeah. Spivey said we had to find a book.”
“What kind of book?”
“He said it was a diary or ledger or something. Brown, about the size of a big paperback.”
“Did you find it?”
“No.”
“What is in it? And how were you supposed to know what it was? Elson had a lot of books.”
“Like I said, it was a ledger, with handwriting. They said we’d know it because it had names of Gruber’s nursing homes in it and other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
“Names of people. Dates. Money amounts.”
“What is so important about this book?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that they want it before anyone else gets it. That’s why they asked us to kill you. They were worried you’d find it.”
“What about Elson’s computer?” Rufus looked at me blankly. “You took his computer, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think there was anything useful on it. Spivy and the others were pissed. Had us toss it in the river.”
I kept at it for another 10 minutes, but there was nothing else to get from the surviving Bodine, who occasionally stole a glance at his motionless brother and kept wetting his lips with his tongue. I stood up and motioned to Maks to follow me outside. Rufus was left staring at Abner. Even outside I could hear him chanting, over and over, ‘Oh, God, oh sweet Jesus, help me’.
“What do you make of his story?”
“This is one fucked up town,” Maks said.
“You keep saying that. What else?”
“He told you everything he knows. That judge was running some sort of operation and kept a record.”
“Something involving Gruber’s nursing homes.”
“It would seem so. There is a lot of money in nursing homes. They are a very profitable for Arman.”
The Rahm family owns a string of nursing homes and Medicare clinics in New York and New Jersey as part of its “legitimate” business empire. Much like the other lawful enterprises, the homes and clinics help to launder the oceans of cash from the Rahm’s criminal operations. But by all accounts they are well-run, models of their industry.
“Arman told me that even honest nursing home owners can make money,” I said, “given the aging population and Government largesse. Why would Elson and the others have to run a scam, whatever it is?”
“Maybe they are just greedy. Don’t forget, the Rahm family has many other sources of income. To be honest, I am interested to know just what these otmorozki are up to.”
My Russian is a little rusty. I had no idea what otmorozki meant, but I suspected it wasn’t a compliment.
“If it is so lucrative they are willing to kill people to keep it secret,” Maks continued, “perhaps Arman is missing something.”
I stared at him.
“Joking,” he said.
God, I hoped so.
“Do you think his partners killed Elson?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
“You can’t go to the police.”
“Rufus can testify.”
“To what? That we kidnapped him and killed his brother?”
“We could claim self-defense.”
Maks gave the remark the scathing look it deserved.
“Don’t be stupid. You saw Abner. What are you going to say? He fell into a thresher? And even if it worked, any good lawyer would get the testimony suppressed. Believe me, your appalling legal system is the best thing that has ever happened to criminals.” Maks actually smiled. “I speak from experience. Wait here.”
He started to go back into the barn. I grabbed his arm. It was like grasping a piece of metal.
“Maks, I won’t let you do it.”
Kalugin looked at me. Then at my hand on his arm. I wondered if anyone had ever grabbed him like that. Anyone still alive, that is. But he only patted my hand.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt him. Here, you can even hold this.” He gave me his knife.
“Put it in the van for me, will you? And get some rope in the back.”
When I returned to the barn, Maks was moving Abner’s body into an alcove where there was some old hay. I looked at Rufus, who appeared to be unconscious. As I got closer to him, I could see that his head was lolling at an unnatural angle. I pushed it back. It flounced around like a Slinky. He was dead.
“I thought you weren’t going to hurt him!”
“Perhaps I misspoke. I meant that it wouldn’t hurt. Believe me it was quite painless. Now help me with his body.”
When I hesitated, Maks walked up to me.
“Grow up.”
A half hour later we left the barn, with sparks shooting into the night sky. Maks had arranged the two bodies in poses that might suggest they fought each other to the death, supplying each of them with knives from his bag of tricks. Then he expertly set the barn ablaze, starting fires in all four corners of the structure. The old wood and hay made for a nice conflagration.
“Any decent forensic expert will know they didn’t stab each other to death,” I said as we drove away. I could see the glow from the burning barn in the rear view mirror. “And he will surely notice the broken neck.”
Kalugin snorted. Or maybe laughed. With Maks it was hard to tell.
“So what? Nobody will grieve over those two otmorozki. Their bodies will be melted together. They are identical twins, remember? The police will be so confused by the similar DNA they might not even look for anything else. They probably won’t be able to tell who is who.”
“What about dental records?”
“Did those two look like they ever went to a dentist? They didn’t have 10 teeth between them. And didn’t you tell me the coroner is Blaloch, and he only works part-time? Do you think he will start an investigation that may lead back to him? Even if he identifies those two bodies, he will shit his pants. I hope he identifies them. He and his partners will wonder what the hell is going on.”
“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“You are never dull, Rhode, I will say that. I think people must hire you for the entertainment value.”
We drove for a while in silence.
“Maks, what would you have done if Rufus hadn’t broken? If he was as tough as his brother.”
“He was the weak link. I could tell that from the fight in the parking lot. There is always a weak link. You Americans have your ‘good cop, bad cop’ strategy when dealing with a suspect. In Russia, we have something similar called ‘dead suspect, talkative suspect’.
When we first met, Maks Kalugin wanted to kill me. We’d come a long way since then. But he still scared the hell out of me.
“Just what the hell is an otmorozki?”
“Plural. Scumbags.”
I knew what my next move was. I had to find that book. It might not help me find Elson’s killer, but I couldn’t let Spivey, Blaloch and Gruber get away with Lucas’s murder, let alone whatever other crimes they’d committed.
CHAPTER 19 - WELL, WELL
We drove back to the Elson house. While Maks cleaned up his “tools,” I poured a bourbon for myself and a vodka for him. When he finally sat down, he raised his glass to me.
“"Vashe zdorovie, Rhode. All in all, a good night’s work. It went well.”
“I’d hate to see what you consider a bad night’s work.”
He heard the bitterness in my voice.
“It had to be done. And your hands are clean.”
“I was there.”
“If you are remorseful over what happened to those two, don’t be. They shot a child in the face with a shotgun. And I’m sure it was not their first murder. Now, have one more drink and get some sleep. Tomorrow, we look for the book.”
“I’m beginning to think it isn’t here. I searched this place pretty thoroughly. And that’s after the Bodines and the cops went through.”
“Did Elson maintain an office downtown?”
“I don’t know. He was a retired judge. Does it make sense that he would keep something incriminating in a courthouse. It’s obvious his partners thought it was here. Perhaps they even saw him write in it during their scheming.”
“Then we go through the house again in the morning. I’ve done many searches. Two sets of eyes are better than one. But they must be fresh eyes.”
***
I awoke to the smells of sausages and Kalugin’s thermonuclear coffee. I went to the kitchen and ate a quick sandwich with two cups of his potent brew. Then we began our search. I started in the attic and worked my way down. Kalugin, in the basement, did the opposite. We passed each other in the second floor hallway about two hours later. Two hours after that, we worked every room together. Then we checked the outside of the house, even going on the roof and looking under the eaves. We gave the porch a thorough going-over.
“If it’s here,” Kalugin finally said angrily, “we’ll need an ax to find it.”
“I doubt that he would hide it so that he’d have to chop up the floor or walls to get to it.”
“Why couldn’t the bastard have a safe like a normal person.”
“I don’t think he was normal, in any respect.”
“I’m hungry,” Kalugin said.
We sat in the kitchen. Maks warmed up some stuffed cabbage, the smell of which effectively killed my appetite. I settled for more coffee and some black bread and butter.
“Isn’t a bit early for vodka?”
“The sun is up,” Maks replied.
“I don’t know what my next move should be.”
“We can kill the other three and be done with it.”
“No wonder you guys beat Hitler. But let’s put that plan on hold for a while. Besides, it doesn’t help me find out who killed the judge.”
“Why do you care? He was just as bad as the others. The boss, actually.”
“I want to know what they did. What they still might be doing.”
“We could ask them. I’m sure there are some other abandoned barns around here. And afterward they wouldn’t be doing it anymore.”
The logic was inescapable. And frightening.
“I have to make sense of all this, Maks. If only for the Browne kid.”
I thought of Lucas the morning he was killed. Talking to me in this very kitchen about fixing the windlass on the well.
“My way is easier,” Maks said.
But I was no longer listening. There must have been something in my face because Maks asked, “Rhode, are you all right?”
“Jesus Christ!”
I jumped up suddenly and headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
He caught up to me when I reached the well.
“What are you doing?”
I tried to turn the handle on the windlass. It was still stuck. I grabbed the rope and started pulling on it. A moment later, the dripping bucket appeared. It was made of wood and leaked steadily. There was some bedraggled clothing festooned with old wet leaves hanging from the bucket. I quickly tossed the cloth on the ground when I saw what was sticking up from the rapidly draining container. It was a large plastic Ziploc freezer bag, inside of which was another, slightly smaller plastic bag. Both were tightly closed. The second bag held a sealed Tupperware container. We both could see what was in the container.
“Sukin syn!” Maks said.
“Son of a bitch!” I said.
“I just said that.”
I ripped open the bags, opened the container and took out the small brown, and very dry, ledger. With Maks looking over my shoulder, I started turning pages. There were only 14 with writing on them. Each of the 14 had a name on the first line, followed by a date. The last page had only a name. The date on the first page was eight years earlier. The last date was from the previous year. On each page there were also various entries: INSURANCE, PROCEEDS OF WILL, REAL ESTATE, AUTOMOBILES, JEWELRY, OTHER PERSONAL EFFECTS and MISCELLANEOUS. Next to each entry was a N/A or a dollar amount. The totals were added at the end of each list. They varied,
but none of the totals was less than $250,000 and the largest was almost $2 million. At the bottom of each page where there were financial amounts, there were initials, next to which were dollar amounts and what appeared to be bank routing numbers. The initials were “C.E.”, “M.G.”, “A.B.” and “C.S.”
“Elson, Gruber, Blaloch and Spivey,” Kalugin said. “And those are foreign accounts. Switzerland and the Cayman Islands.”
I didn’t have to ask him how he knew that.
“Looks like the judge took 40%,” I said, “and the rest got 20% each.”
I did a quick calculation of all the totals in my head.
“More than $11 million,” I said.
“What do you think it means?”
“A record of that much money hidden in a well and worth killing for? Nothing legal.”
“More bodies,” Maks said.
We went back to the house and I fired up my laptop. Then I started Googling the names from the ledger, starting from the first. A couple of them popped up in local news reports or photos from the town daily, the Atlas Advance, and a weekly, the Atlas Record. But the stories were boilerplate. Garden shows, golf outings, a charity dinner and the like. And all were years old. None were recent and none were what I expected. Obituaries.
“I assumed these people were dead,” I said.
“So did I,” Kalugin agreed. “Or else, why the insurance payments. And they must be old, from the look of the photos, which are from years ago.”
I checked the websites of both papers.
“These newspapers have comprehensive obituary coverage,” I said. “Death notices, feature stories, the works. Some of these people in the ledger must have died, but there are no obits. Makes no sense. We’re missing something.”
I pulled out my cell phone and called Chief Deerly-Johnson.
CHAPTER 20 - ARSENIC AND OLD LADY
We met the Chief outside the Atlas City Courthouse. I showed her the ledger.
“The goddamn well! Don’t I feel like an idiot.”
“Lot of that going around, Chief” I said. “It only stuck in my mind because Lucas wanted to fix the winch just before he was killed. We wouldn’t be close to any of this, whatever it is, if people around here weren’t so murderous.”
THE ELSON LEGACY (Alton Rhode Mysteries Book 6) Page 11