The phone rang.
A phone ringing at three o’clock in the morning is not like a phone at any other time of day. It bawled through the house, more frightening and piercing than a child screaming in distress, a siren announcing imminent calamity. She stumbled, running to stop it. “Hello?”
“Ms. Reilly? This is Carol Elliott. I share a lab with Dr. Hirabayashi.”
“Ginger?”
“I know she’s been doing some time-sensitive work for you, and I thought I should call. Also, I didn’t want you hearing about it in the media tomorrow without some warning.”
“Hearing what? Where’s Ginger? Why isn’t she calling?”
“She can’t. I’m calling from the hospital. Someone broke into the building where we work. He stabbed the guard on duty, stole his keys, and ransacked our lab. Ginger’s still unconscious.”
Nina touched the scar on her chest, cold, remembering. “Was she stabbed?”
“No, although I wasn’t sure at first when I found her. She put up one hell of a fight. The lab’s wrecked.” She must have realized how frightening this sounded, so she went on hastily, “He hit her in the forehead with something and knocked her out. She’s had a mild concussion. She has a cracked rib and a black eye. But she’ll be fine.”
“Thank God. How’s the guard?”
“He took some serious cuts on the arms and hands, but he’ll make it. Another guard saw the attack happening and called for help right away. Unfortunately, nobody came quick enough to catch the guy that got Ginger.”
Horror tugged at Nina. Ginger could have been killed. “Who did this? Do the police know?”
“They don’t know who and they don’t know why. They seem to think maybe someone was looking for drugs. There’s a surveillance video but the police said it wasn’t helpful. He was wearing a mask.”
“Were any drugs stolen?”
“Nothing that we could determine.”
She puzzled over the information. “Was anything taken?”
“Nothing of value, although it did look like her bench had been swept clean.”
“What was on it?”
“As far as I can remember, bones. Labeled as being from you. That’s why I called. I’m assuming the bones were taken by this intruder. I told the police and gave them your number.”
Bones, again. What was the story on these damnable bones? “When can I talk to her?”
“Tomorrow morning. They want her to rest.”
“Should I come up? I’m only a few hours away.”
“No, really, you can’t do anything. I wish I could tell you more, but I just got here.”
“You’ve heard something,” Paul said, once he was awake enough to answer his phone. Nina explained about Ginger. When she was finished, he said, “Shit. This is my fault.”
“You couldn’t have prevented this.”
“She was up against a pro. Amazing that she survived.”
“She practices karate three times a week. She fought like crazy, probably kept herself alive. You’re sure it was Krilov? The Russian?”
“It was the Russian.”
“The bones, Paul. Why would Sergey Krilov take them? Why are they worth a guard’s life, a priest’s life, a doctor’s life? He’s gone on some sort of rampage. I’m calling Alex Zhukovsky again.”
“I think the rampage is over,” Paul said. “He wanted the bones, and he has them. Have the Sacramento police call me too when they get in touch. I can’t believe I let that bastard touch Ginger.”
Friday morning Nina made a few calls, then got Bob off to school, which wasn’t simple.
“I hate this school. I hate all the kids.”
“Why don’t you make more of an effort?” she said. She was making his lunch, slapping blackberry jelly and peanut butter on wheat bread, tossing a bag of chips and a milk carton in the brown bag. Ordinarily, he made his own lunch, but when he was this contrary, he would go without rather than compromise. “Join a club. Get involved in fund-raising for the cross-country team. People are the same everywhere, you know. It’s not a regional thing.”
“I disagree,” he said, folding his arms. “Here they are all the same. They wear the same stupid Carmel clothes. They like the same jerk music and the same lame movies. They grew up together and I’m a freak and I hate it, Mom.”
He would not go, he informed her, refusing to eat, refusing to dress, and finally, refusing to get into the car until she threatened him with various punishments, and one finally caught his attention. “Get in that car now,” she said, “or I will take away your music. I will take away your computer and I will dump it in a ravine!”
One thing she had done right with him. She never made promises she didn’t fully intend to keep, and he knew it. He dragged around, but he got dressed and made it outside.
All the way there, while he maintained a silence as noxious and pervasive as the fumes spewing from the garbage truck up ahead, she agreed with him in her heart. For sensitive souls, such was high school. But if he was that kind of boy, it would probably prove just as hellacious at Tahoe.
After she dropped him at the school, forcing him to lean in for the kiss he was still just young enough not to refuse her, she parked on the street and tried calling the hospital. They found Ginger right away.
“Hey, you,” she said. “They shaved a perfect bald square very neatly in the hair above my forehead so they could dress the cut,” she said. “Normally, I might consider it a serendipitous style-statement, but I just got a really good haircut, damn it.”
“How are you?”
“Leaving as soon as they unhook the IV.”
“The guard’s doing okay.”
“I heard. Phil fought back. And the funny thing is, this kid, this loser, the other guard? He was quick enough to get people there that got Phil help, and interrupted the attack on me, without risking his own skin. Phil’s saving for a houseboat so he and his wife can spend their golden years floating around on Lake Shasta, drinking mai tais. Right this second, I’m motivated to join them.”
“What happened, exactly?”
“I knocked the knife out of his hand, I do remember that, but there were too many potential weapons in our lab, turns out. He whacked me on the head with the ezda, I’m told, although I jumped away and avoided serious damage. I hope I got his nuts good, at least.”
“The ezda? What’s that?”
“That bum, Kevan, talked us into buying an ESDA a couple of months ago. It’s an electrostatic device that detects indented writing on questionable documents. It’s as big as a portable copy machine, so this guy is strong.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“No. He had a ski mask on. Somebody ought to outlaw those things, or at least register the name of any purchasers. I wish I knew who it was, because I consider our business unfinished. And I don’t like pending business.”
“We know-we think we know who attacked you, Ginger.”
“Great. I’ve got a pen. Just give me his address and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“His name is Sergey Krilov. He’s involved in our case, although I’m not sure how. We don’t know where he is. Anyway, you leave him to the police, Ginger.”
“Speaking of that, the police asked Carol to make a list of what’s missing from the lab, and it’s pretty clear what Krilov wanted, Nina, since he took every single thing on my bench.”
“He wanted the bones.”
“Yep.”
“And he got them.”
“Yep.” But Ginger sounded almost blithe, and Nina thought, she must be on Vicodin.
“Shit,” Nina said. “Now I’m more sure than ever-”
“Don’t fret, baby, he didn’t get everything. Just before he arrived, I decided to do another marrow extraction. I took fresh samples. I stored them in the fridge. I asked Carol to check this morning. Still there, frosty as they ought to be.”
“Really?”
“No shit.”
“That’s a great break!”
/>
“The son of a bitch missed ’em. Yippee! We still don’t know why the bones are important, but it’s more obvious than ever that they are. I have new test results. I wish I could tell you what they meant. I can’t. Yet.”
“Right.” That meant Nina should cancel the appointment she had rushed to make this morning with Jaime. She had thought, with the bones missing, there was a chance she could get some time out of him, more time to develop their case. Since they still had marrow, that wouldn’t play.
“Ginger, this is important. Don’t tell anyone you have the marrow. That’s between you, me, and Paul.”
“And Carol. She’s cool. I’ll need new copies of the DNA profiles for our defendant and victim from you. They’re gone.”
“Done.” She made a note for Sandy to send copies immediately.
“I’ve run some new tests on the marrow, and I’m getting some good ideas. Sorry I can’t say what yet. I’m not sure I even remember. But the results weren’t lying on my bench, they were on the counter by the fridge, and Carol has ’ em safe. Is that cool or what?”
“That’s very cool. Do you feel able to stay on the phone with me a few more minutes? I have a strange little angle we’re working.” Nina filled her in on what she and Paul had been thinking, that there might be a Romanov link. “Is there any way you could compare his DNA to that family?”
“Maybe if I had several months, a translator, and a bunch of politicians smoothing the way.”
“Oh. I didn’t know it would be so hard.”
“One of those pretenders to the throne has been trying to compare his DNA with the DNA of one of the Romanov family dukes for years,” Ginger said. “It’s a political thing.”
“I guess the Romanovs are getting sick of all the Anastasia descendants out there.”
“Something else strange,” Ginger said.
“What’s that?”
“I’m forgetting something important. It’s a creepy feeling, like old age sneaking up on me. I had a thought and lost it.”
“You have a concussion,” Nina reminded her.
“Maybe-maybe even an insight. Damn.”
“It’ll come to you.” Nina heard rustling on the other end of the phone.
“The IV’s out,” Ginger said, “and I am out of here. I’m going back to the lab to survey the damage. I’ll call you later.”
“Is the doctor there? Did the doctor say you could leave?”
“Nobody’s here except me.”
“You took out the IV yourself?”
“See, that’s why I work with dead people. They are so much more patient than the living.”
Paul met Nina in front of the Salinas courthouse at nine. “He’s been following the trial,” he said, after moving in for a kiss and receiving a distracted peck on the cheek.
“Who?”
“Krilov. He left the minute he heard there were still bones out there.”
Nina set down her case and adjusted one elegant shoe. “I suspect a political connection to Russia, Paul, and he’s our link. He was Christina’s lover; Father Giorgi knows him; he comes from an important family. We’ve got to find him.”
“Oh, I’ll find him.”
“Let’s assume Constantin was a page to the royal family, as he claimed. Maybe he knew something-important. Maybe he knew something about their deaths. Maybe he was a witness? And Sergey’s family-but why would any of this matter all of a sudden? This all happened nearly a century ago.”
“I hate to admit it, but I don’t know much about Russian history.”
“Take a look at my research, okay?” she said, checking her watch and smoothing her hair. “Sandy has copies. What I told you is a little sketchy. I’ve got to go.”
She turned and left, forgetting to kiss him good-bye. What a relationship, Paul thought. How could she leave without that last kiss? They might never meet again. She should be able to tell the news media, when he croaked that day in a high-speed crash, I told him how much I loved him.
Paul paid a king’s ransom for a large cup of coffee, stopped by Nina’s office to pick up her handwritten research notes, then went to his office, once again conducting an exhaustive study of the paperwork in the case. He reviewed the old reports, and sure enough, found a mention of Sergey Krilov in the report Dean Trumbo had filed with Klaus several months before. At last, he had an excuse to track the bastard down.
He found Deano playing an early racquetball game at the Sports Center in downtown Monterey. In a large glass booth, grunting and sweating, he took on his competition, an athletic sprite who flew from corner to corner, returning every volley, smacking every serve like a pro. With pleasure bordering on the sadistic, Paul watched Deano lose big.
Seemingly undisturbed, Deano shook hands with his partner, even giving him a little congratulatory pat on the arm. Well, you had to expect it. Show me a good loser, Paul thought, and I’ll show you a loser.
“Rotten luck,” he said as Deano caught sight of him, raised the racket for protection, and turned as white as a boiled egg.
“It’s y-you,” Deano said.
“I’m here on business,” Paul said, not wanting to scare him off. The last time they had met, Paul had been compelled to beat Deano almost senseless for trying to steal his business. Judging by the fresh layer of sweat boiling up on his forehead, Deano hadn’t forgotten the encounter.
Deano recovered his cool act fast. “Follow me,” he said, jerking his head toward the locker room. As tall as Paul but dark, with a trim, square jaw and black curly hair, which women found compelling but Paul found effeminate, he led the way, his stride consciously casual but his towel getting a workout on his brow.
“Work going good?” Paul said, adapting his stride to Deano’s anxious one.
“Great! I mean, fine. I’ve got a few pans frying.”
“Such as the one with Klaus Pohlmann’s firm.”
“That job’s finished. I heard you picked up the investigation.”
“Yeah, Klaus told me he had hired a second grader when the graduate was unavailable.”
They reached Deano’s locker. Dean spun the combination lock and opened it. Clothes smelling like dead, wet fur hung on pegs. Pulling out the clothes and setting them into a neat pile on the bench, watching Paul for any sudden moves out of the corner of his eye, Deano said, “You really scared my mom, calling her like that.”
Paul thought about the last time he and Deano’s mom had spoken. He had been pretending to be an IRS agent.
“She thought I was in trouble with the government. Wouldn’t talk to me for months. Was terrified I was gonna get arrested. Thought it might reflect badly on her.” He glowered.
“Now, why would she think you’d be in trouble with the government?”
Deano slammed the locker shut. “Let’s just leave it that you got even, okay? Now what do you want?”
“It’s this report you prepared for Klaus Pohlmann’s firm, Deano,” Paul said. “You mention a guy named Sergey Krilov.”
Deano took the report and skimmed it. “Oh, yeah. He’s nobody.”
“He was Christina Zhukovsky’s lover.”
“Really? I guess that makes sense.”
“How do you know that? You don’t say here.”
“Stands to reason. She went to Russia to be with him. Lived in his apartment, or whatever they call an apartment over there. He followed her back here, at least for a while.”
“I don’t see anything about Christina’s trip to Russia here, Deano.”
He leaned over Paul’s shoulder and shrugged. “Huh. Guess I didn’t put that in there. It was deep background, not relevant. Remember that time she was gone? She went there. Her cleaning lady told me. I don’t think I got around to writing up those notes.”
“What was she doing there, Deano?” Paul asked.
Deano blew air from his mouth, but decided to humor Paul. “Screwing Sergey Krilov, obviously.”
“She followed him there, or she met him there?”
“She
met him here. I guess you missed the cleaning lady. Oh, right, Genya was just getting ready to go back to the Ukraine when I talked to her.”
“So did Genya tell you why Christina went to Russia in the first place?” Paul asked.
Deano took his shirt off, revealing a nicely muscular torso gleaming like a spritzed model of youthful perfection. He leaned over the report, studying it. “Well, I don’t say why, do I? Hmm.”
“No. You don’t.” Paul swallowed his anger.
“Guess not, then.” Deano pulled back. From a duffel bag, he extracted a comb, shoes, and fresh socks. “So, why did she go?”
“Deano, how much did the Pohlmann firm pay you? A thousand? Two?”
He looked cagey. “Oh, that was months ago. It’s hard to say.”
“More than you deserved for two hours’ work, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hell, no. I spent at least a day on this.” He appeared truly offended.
“What did Christina Zhukovsky do while she was in Russia? I mean, aside from sleep with Sergey Krilov?”
“I think she was political,” Deano said. “According to Genya the cleaning lady. Genya was a beauty, but what a talker. Talked my ear off.” Paul hadn’t run across any Genya. Months had gone by; Deano had interviewed an important witness, but hadn’t made a report or even noted her name or her interview, and Genya was probably gone for good. It rankled.
Deano sensed criticism in the air. “Genya didn’t know diddly about the murder,” he said. “She was visiting relatives in San Fran when it happened. All she knew was general background.”
“Sergey Krilov is in California. I want to know where he is, Deano.”
“Well…” Deano thought. “Not with Father Giorgi.”
“He’s connected with Giorgi?”
“They know each other, but I don’t think they like each other. Christina ended up tight with the priest and told Sergey to fuck off. Genya really enjoyed eavesdropping on that conversation. She loved listening to Christina on the phone.” He took his stinky socks off slowly and stowed them in the outside zip compartment of a black gym bag.
“Why would Krilov stay?”
“Here’s the thing,” Deano said, pulling his pants off to reveal things Paul never wished to see. “These people aren’t like you and me. They take no pride in their government. They have no money. They don’t have nice houses. They can’t afford health clubs, probably don’t even give a damn about being buff.” He pushed back his hair, looking astonished at the thought. “They amuse themselves by griping about two things, the scarcity of alcohol and the dirty politicians. Well, you can’t blame them. What else is there to keep a person sane in a godforsaken place like that?”
Unlucky in Law Page 25