by Rickie Blair
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t he tell me—”
“That he was married?” Mila’s eyes were cold.
“No.” Ruby shook her head. “I mean, yes, that too, but … I only contacted Dimitri because I wanted to find you. Why didn’t he tell me where you were?”
Mila stared at her, but said nothing.
“Okay. Look. Do you remember, back on the ship, when you helped me leave the Emperor Suite?”
Mila nodded.
“Do you remember seeing a leather box? About this big,” Ruby gestured, “with a hinged top. It was in my tote bag.”
Mila’s eyes widened, but still she said nothing.
“I don’t care why you took it,” Ruby said with a heavy sigh. “But I need it back. Those men, the ones you warned me about? I didn’t realize it then, but that box was meant for them. They’re looking for it. They’re looking for me. I have to get it back, Mila.”
“What was in it?”
“Bearer bonds from a Cayman Islands bank. They’re worth millions. Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
Mila fingered the silver locket that hung from a chain around her neck and looked back at the rooming house.
“He knows you live here.”
“Dimitri?”
She nodded.
“How could he? He’s never been here. I’ve only seen him once, and it wasn’t here. He promised to call me with your number. That’s all, I swear.”
Again, no reply.
Ruby bit her lip. What did this woman want?
“I’ll pay you,” she said, holding up her tote bag. “I have over ten thousand dollars here, and I can get more. I know those bearer bonds are supposed to be easy to cash and untraceable, but you won’t be able to cash them here. Or in the States, either. Not without a lot of questions. And if those … those mob guys find out you’ve got them—”
Mila zipped open her handbag, pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to Ruby.
Thank God. Ruby grabbed the envelope, tension seeping from her shoulders. “You’re making the right decision, believe me.” Opening the flap, she pulled out a sheaf of heavy paper and turned it over.
They were not bonds. They were photographs. Of her.
They weren’t casual snapshots, either, the kind someone might take with a camera phone or a point-and-shoot digital. They were the kind paparazzi take, with those ultra-long lenses that can pick out their prey from hundreds of yards away.
Ruby shuffled through the pictures one by one. If a paparazzo had taken these, why hadn’t he sold them? A pap wouldn’t be sitting on photos that proved Ruby Danger wasn’t dead. He would be at the bank cashing a huge check. She looked up.
“Where did you get these?”
“He’s following you.”
“Who’s following me? A photographer?”
“Dimitri.”
Ruby slid the photos back into the manila envelope. Her hand shook as she smoothed the flap closed.
“It looks to me like you’re the one doing the following. Or should I say stalking?” She eyed Mila. “You think you can blackmail me, don’t you?”
“You don’t understand. I want to help.”
Ruby shoved the envelope against Mila’s chest and leaned in.
“You want to help? Give me back the money you took, or leave me alone.”
Ruby turned back to the street, twitching to get away from Mila and those photographs. She tried to wave down a cab, but it breezed past. Turning, she walked up the street with long swinging strides.
Mila scurried to keep up with her. Ruby stepped up her pace until she was almost running.
“Please,” Mila said, panting. “Is not blackmail. I swear. Stop. Please.”
Ruby looked around. A black Chevy cruised by, the driver rolling down his window and gesturing rudely with his tongue. She couldn’t keep running with Mila in pursuit. They had attracted too much attention already. Ruby grabbed Mila by the arm and pulled her into the sheltered doorway of a corner deli.
“All right.” She crossed her arms. “You’ve got two minutes.”
“I didn’t take the photographs, I found them.”
“Where?”
“In Dimitri’s apartment.”
“His apartment? Don’t you live with him?”
“No. I mean, yes, I live with him. But not there. That’s not our apartment. I didn’t know about it until today. I followed him and I saw you go into that building. It’s not the first time Dimitri …” Mila looked down at her feet.
Ruby crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. As if things weren’t bad enough, now she had a jealous wife to contend with.
“Listen, I’m sorry about your husband, if he is your husband. But it sounds like there’s a lot you don’t know about him. That’s not my fault. And I’m telling the truth. Nothing happened between us.”
Mila didn’t look convinced.
“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” Ruby said. “I need to know where you hid the bonds.”
“Dimitri has them.”
“So, you did take the bonds. And you gave them to Dimitri.”
“No. I mean …” Mila ran a hand through her hair and began again. “I saw the money in the Emperor Suite and I thought it was in the box. I didn’t know about the bonds. You were asleep. I wanted to keep the money safe. I was going to bring it back. Truly.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“How could I? You were gone.”
Ruby stared at her. Well, that much was true.
“So where’s the money now? Oh,” she slapped her head in mock dismay, “I forgot—”
“Dimitri has it,” they said in unison.
“If that’s so,” Ruby said, “then why didn’t he tell me when he helped me get off the ship? Did he simply forget that he had twenty million dollars of my husband’s money? I asked him about it. He knew nothing. So Dimitri lied, but you’re telling the truth? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I told him the bonds are not ours, and we must give them back. He said no, everyone thinks you took them.”
Ruby leaned back on her heels and pursed her lips.
“That does seem to be the consensus.”
“I told Dimitri we could go to the police. He laughed. He said, ‘Ruby Delaney had the bonds, and Ruby Delaney is dead. If we return them, the police will say we killed her.’”
Ruby stepped back as a man and woman brushed past her into the restaurant. When the door had closed behind them, she turned to Mila.
“You could give the bonds to the police now because they know I’m not dead. So you wouldn’t get arrested. But giving them to the police won’t get the mob off your back, or mine.” She shook her head. “You’re in danger as long as you have those bonds, Mila. And if Dimitri knows about them, he’s in danger, too. Just bring them back and I’ll pay you. Ten thousand, I promise. More if I can get it.”
Ruby glanced at the street, where the black Chevy was cruising past for the third time.
“Let’s go inside. I’m not saying I believe you, but we can’t stay here.”
They walked into the restaurant and sat at a table in the back. A waitress with frizzy blonde curls brought two glasses of water, placed them on the table and pulled her order pad from her pocket.
“What can I get you?”
“Just coffee, please.”
After the waitress had returned with the carafe and filled their cups, dropped a handful of creamers on the table, and walked away, Ruby rested her elbows on the table and stared at Mila.
“Why were you following Dimitri?”
“To look for your leather box. That’s how I found the photographs.”
“Did you find anything else?”
She nodded.
“Well? Are you going to tell me?”
Mila zipped open her purse, pulled out a black handgun and placed it on the table with a clunk.
“Yikes.” Ruby jerked back. “What are you doing?” She threw her napkin over the gun, her heart hamm
ering. “Look,” she said, when her breathing had slowed, “I don’t know what they do in Moscow, but here you can’t pull out a gun like that. In fact, you can’t even carry one around.” Extending a cautious finger, she pushed the napkin-covered handgun to Mila’s side of the table. “Put it away, for heaven’s sake.”
Mila picked up the weapon and put it back in her purse with a slight shrug.
“Lots of people have guns here.”
“Not any people I know.” Ruby picked up her coffee, trying to be nonchalant. “Is it loaded?”
Mila nodded.
“What?” Ruby slammed her cup onto the table and coffee slopped over the side. “It’s loaded? What were you thinking? You could have killed yourself or me. Do you even know how to fire it?”
“You don’t understand. You are in danger.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Mila shook her head.
“No. Not me.” As she handed Ruby back her napkin, Mila’s forearm slid out of her coat sleeve. A vivid purple bruise circled her wrist.
Ruby grabbed her hand and turned it over.
“How did you get this?”
Mila pulled her hand away.
“Who did that to you?”
Mila tugged her sleeve down, pressing her lips together.
“Okay,” Ruby said, “if you’re not threatening me, then who is?”
“The vor v zakonye. They killed my parents. I know these men.”
Ruby studied Mila while tapping the side of her coffee cup. She leaned over the table.
“You know what I think? I think you’re lying. I think you took the bonds and Dimitri doesn’t even know. So you found a gun? That proves nothing. Dimitri told me that apartment belongs to a friend. It’s probably his gun. As for the mob,” she paused, “I think you know more about them than you’re letting on.”
Ruby pulled a ten-dollar bill from her bag, dropped it on the table and stood up.
“Ten thousand is a good offer. If I were you, I’d take it. If you decide to tell me the truth, you know where I am. For now, anyway. I’ll be gone within the hour. Make up your mind.”
She turned to walk out, mentally counting the seconds. One. Two. Three— “Wait.”
She turned back, making sure her face gave nothing away.
“Please.” Mila gestured at the chair. “Please. I’ll tell you everything.”
Ruby sighed and sat down.
“I’m listening.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
When Ruby’s taxi pulled up in front of Carmen’s that evening, Hari stood outside with his trench coat collar turned up against the swirling mist. His smile faded when he saw her face.
“I can explain everything, Ruby. Come inside.”
He held the restaurant door open and she walked through. Inside, he exchanged nods with the maître d’, who led them past a circular stage in the middle of the room to a curved booth near the back. The maître d’ handed them menus, winked at Hari and walked away. Pushing her coat to one side of the booth, Ruby opened the menu.
“Why did he wink at you?” she asked, turning a page and reading as casually as possible.
“He knows me. I’ve been here before. The cacciatore is good, by the way.”
Ruby put down the menu and glared at him.
“I was in that police station almost two hours. I was scared to death.”
“I know and I’m sorry. But I had nothing to do with that, Ruby.” He shook his head. “If it’s any consolation, they grilled Antony on the ship a lot longer than that after you disappeared. For an entire day, in fact.” Hari chuckled. “So you can imagine how pissed off he was when he found out you were alive.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I mean, he was glad, ecstatic even—”
“Don’t overdo it.”
“—but later, he was pissed.”
Hari handed both menus to a hovering waiter.
“Two orders of the chicken cacciatore, please. And a bottle of the 2008 Chablis.” He smiled at Ruby. “That okay with you?”
“I don’t really care, to be honest.”
Hari took off his glasses and laid them on the table. His deep brown eyes were much more intense without them. He leaned in and lowered his voice.
“When I thought you were dead …” His voice cracked and he looked down at the table.
Ruby’s chest tightened and she frowned. Dammit. Why did she have to apologize? She drew a ragged breath.
“I’m sorry about that.”
Hari rubbed the back of his neck, looking up with an embarrassed chuckle.
“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. And you’re not dead, so … that’s good.” Smiling, he flicked his spoon back and forth on the table. “Very good.”
The waiter walked over with a basket of rolls, placed it beside them with a slight nod, and walked away.
Hari leaned back and grinned at her.
“So, tell me. How did you get off that ship, anyway?”
“Oh, no. Forget it.” She crisscrossed her hands in an emphatic gesture. “I answered enough questions at the police station, thanks.” Leaning back, she fingered the tablecloth while glancing around. “You’re getting rather fancy with the wines and all, Hari. I remember when you rated your plonk by whether it was in a bottle or a box.”
“Is that all you remember?”
She ignored his question and lifted her chin at the stage.
“What do they use that for?”
“The customers sing. They’re amateurs, but most are fairly good.”
“That’s why the maître d’ winked at you,” she said, her mouth twitching. “You’re his favorite tenor.”
Hari flashed a sheepish grin and shrugged.
The waiter arrived with the wine and filled their glasses. Ruby sank back into the soft caress of the upholstered velvet bench, sipped her Chablis, and looked around the dimly lit room. A spotlight illuminated the stage, augmented by tiny lights along the front. At this early hour only about half the booths that lined the walls were occupied, each with a lamp that cast a pool of light on the table. The door to the kitchen swung open and tantalizing aromas of tomato, garlic, and roasted meat wafted out. She looked at Hari.
He smiled at her and for a moment she almost forgot why they were there.
Three musicians walked to the stage and sat down. A woman rose from a table, stepped onto the stage and nodded at the trio. The familiar opening bars of I Dreamed a Dream echoed through the restaurant. The mezzo-soprano spread her hands and launched into the first verse.
Ruby raised a hand to shield her expression, turned to Hari, and made a face. He leaned in.
“I did say most were good,” he whispered.
When the song ended, the patrons applauded politely. The singer handed the wireless mic to the maître d’ and returned to her seat. The maître d’ walked over and handed it to Hari.
Ruby shook her head, suppressing a grin.
“I knew it.”
Hari winked at her, walked to the stage and nodded at the musicians. Soon the notes of a clarinet hung like jewels in the air.
In a clear but powerful tenor, Hari sang Tosca’s E lucevan le stelle, expressing the anguish of a condemned man who faces his execution after falling in love for the first time.
The music swelled and Hari’s voice rose to match it. Ruby closed her eyes, letting the emotion wash over her.
‘E muoio disperato
E non ho amato mai tanto la vita!’
She looked down, blinking rapidly, as the aria ended and Hari slid back into the booth. Ruby shook her head.
“You have such a wonderful voice. Why did you stop singing?” She looked up at him and smiled.
He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Startled, she pulled her hand away.
His face darkened. He picked up his glasses and slid them back on.
“Why did I give up singing? Well, let’s see. I was living in a cheap rooming house with nothing on the
horizon. I had a girlfriend with more talent and ambition than I could ever hope to match. My parents had cut off my allowance and insisted I refocus.” He glanced around the room and sighed. “I’m good with numbers, Ruby. At Stanford, they said I was a genius with numbers. Turns out, that’s a highly negotiable skill. Whereas singing,” he shrugged, “not so much.”
“But you love singing. You could have—”
He held up a hand. “Never mind that.” He lowered his hand to the table and studied her. “Antony’s in more trouble than you know.”
She slumped back against the bench.
“Not my problem. And if he’s in trouble, he deserves to be.”
“Maybe. But he needs those bonds back, Ruby. The ones you took off the ship.”
She pressed both hands to her temples.
“I told you, I don’t … wait, I get it.” Her voice quavered. “Antony sent his right-hand man to soften up his bitch of a wife and get his bonds back. Well, it’s not going to work because I don’t have them.” Grabbing her coat, she slid off the bench.
“Ruby, please. I’m trying to help you.”
She tugged on her coat and turned to face him.
“Why do you keep tormenting me, Hari? Why did you have to work for Antony? Why can’t you leave me alone?” Brushing a tear away with the back of her hand, she walked out.
A soft rain gleamed on the sidewalk and fog wreathed the streetlights. Ruby turned up her collar and set out for the subway. She was half a block from the restaurant when Hari caught up with her.
“Ruby, please.” He put a hand on her arm.
She shoved his hand away and kept walking, her head lowered against the drizzle.
“Leave me alone,” she said over her shoulder.
“Antony is scum. He’s always been scum. Why do you think he married you?”
Ruby stopped and turned, crossing her arms.
“Be careful, Hari.”
“You were a bright shiny object. One he didn’t have. And he knew I would try to make his schemes work if you were around.”
“Are you saying Antony didn’t love me?”
“Of course he loved you. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean? Tell me the truth.”