The Scent of Lies

by Debra Burroughs

  He shrugged halfheartedly, a melancholy look on his face. “I tried to stay on the job, but everywhere I looked, something reminded me of her. Sometimes I could swear I saw her, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt for the first few months after Evan was killed.” She squeezed his hand and then awkwardly released it, feeling suddenly conscious of the fact that he was sitting in a spot that Evan had occupied so many times himself. “How long ago did Miranda die?”

  “Over a year ago. At first I worked every shift I could get, trying to fill up my hours so I wouldn’t miss her so much, but I was burning out. Then I took a leave of absence for a few months. I stayed at my uncle’s cabin in the mountains of Northern California, hunting and fishing, reading and writing. After awhile I started going stir-crazy for civilization, so I went back to San Francisco and back to work.”

  “Was it better? I mean, after you returned?”

  “Some,” he nodded. “Time seems to help.” He set his half-eaten bowl of ice cream on the coffee table and leaned back, putting an arm on the back of the sofa.

  “Time does help.” She picked up her ice cream and finished the last of it. She needed a distraction from her mixed-up emotions.

  “My folks encouraged me to find a job somewhere else—to get away from all the places Miranda and I went together. So, when Ernie told my dad about the opening in Paradise Valley, they pushed me to apply for it.”

  “So it wasn’t your idea to come?”

  “Well, I’m not really a small-town kind of guy. You could say I needed a gentle nudge to make the decision.”

  “Gentle nudge?”

  “Well, okay, more like a kick in the pants.” He laughed.

  Emily was glad to see him lighten up. It helped her push her thoughts of Evan aside. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and looked up into his face. Emily had forgotten how good it felt to be close to a man, to nestle in the strength of his arms.

  “I’m glad you came to Paradise Valley.” Her words were soft and genuine.

  “Me too.” He caressed her face, lifting her chin ever so slightly then kissed her sweetly, before she even had time to think about it.

  He leaned back and gazed into her eyes as if he was trying to read her thoughts, and Emily wondered if he could see that she didn’t want him to stop. He must have, because he covered her lips fully with his and kissed her so deeply that she thought she could feel it down to her bare toes. Then, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, he pulled her in closer and she floated into his embrace.

  It had been a very long time since she had been kissed like that and she relished the sensations awakening within her. When Colin finally released her, she sighed contentedly and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. She closed her eyes, enjoying the intimate nearness of him, breathing in his masculine scent.

  They were completely symbiotic as they sat on the sofa, snuggling for a long time without speaking, simply clinging to each other. It had been six months for Emily and even longer for him. They shared an unspoken connection, suffered a similar loss, and Emily thought it was time they both put their losses behind them, moved on with their lives.

  Colin’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. Unwinding from their embrace, he pulled it out. “It’s a call from New York,” he said to Emily as he answered it. “Hello, this is Colin Andrews.”

  Emily sat up on the edge of the sofa and listened.

  “Hey, Joey, what do you have for me?” Colin asked.

  “Uh, huh.” He paused and listened. “Harry Andropov?”

  The mystery man in the dark car?

  Colin sat up straighter. “He does? Like what?”

  Emily’s ears perked up. What was the caller telling Colin?

  “Hmmm, Richard Vale?” Colin wore a focused look on his face. “How much?”

  Emily was having a hard time containing herself. “How much what and who is Richard Vale?”

  Colin covered the phone and whispered, “I’ll tell you in a minute.” He returned his concentration to the telephone conversation. “Yeah, that changes everything. I need to question him, too.”

  What changes everything? Question who? About what? Emily wanted to blurt all her questions out, but held back. Instead, she stood up and began to pace.

  “No, I’d rather talk to him in person—but I’ll have to clear it with my police chief. Then I’ll let you know when I’m coming.”

  Where’s he going?

  “Okay. Thanks, Joey, I’ll be in touch.” Colin clicked his phone off and stuck it back in his pocket, exhaling loudly.

  “Who was that? And who is Richard Vale? And what changes everything?” Emily’s questions spilled out one on top of the other. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, Madam PI, it was a New York City detective I know. I had called and asked him to let me know if and when he located Harry Andropov. Joey said they know him well—him and his boss. Harry the Hatchet is what he’s known by—he does the dirty work for his boss, Yuri Imakaev.”

  “That sounds like the Russian Mob.” Emily’s eyes widened with the realization of it. She sank onto the sofa.

  “Yeah, I think it is. Delia’s husband was involved with some pretty nasty people.” Colin leaned back and stretched an arm out on the back of the sofa.

  “What else did your friend say?” Emily asked with growing interest.

  “He said they just picked up Harry tonight on drug trafficking charges, caught him and a bunch of others in the middle of a warehouse raid. He said Andropov wants to make a deal, claims he has information about a murder.”

  “Our murder?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it our murder, but yes, the Ricardo Vega murder.”

  “And who is Richard Vale?” she asked.

  “Hey, I think I’ve told you too much already.”

  “Fine. I’ll just Google him,” she said.

  “It would be better for me if you did.”

  She dashed to her laptop that sat on the breakfast bar and searched the internet for Richard Vale. Old news stories popped up, a few with his photo. “Richard Vale is—or was—Ricardo Vega.” She carried her computer to the living room.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “No wonder Isabel couldn’t find any history for Ricardo before his time in the Boise area.”

  “You didn’t hear that from me.”

  “I wonder how they found him,” she said.

  “Joey didn’t say.”

  “I wonder if Harry’s the one who killed Ricardo.”

  “Well, he’s not admitting to having killed Ricardo, or Richard.”

  “But you think he knows who did?”

  “I can’t say just yet. Seems Andropov wants a deal before he gives up any information about it.”

  “Then we need to go and talk to him. He can clear Delia.” Emily jumped to her feet. “Where’s my phone? I need to call Alex. Let him know I have to go to New York right away.”

  “Whoa! Slow down. Who said anything about you going? After I get the okay from the Chief about this, then I’ll be on the next flight out of here.”

  “Not without me. This Harry Andropov could be the key to proving Delia’s innocence. I have to be there.”

  “You need to stay here, Emily, and let me do my job.”

  “I have a job to do, too. There could be valuable information to be gained from that man that could prove Delia innocent. So, with or without you, I’m going to New York.”

  “Are you always this stubborn?” His jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

  “When I have to be,” she shot back.

  “This is a serious murder investigation, and I’m not going to jeopardize it by having you tag along.” Colin was deadly serious about this and she could hear it in his voice. “Do you understand?”

  Emily stared at him in silence, biting her lip to keep from speaking her mind. She would not be shut out of going to New York and finding the truth.

  “I don’t mean to be so harsh, but I won’
t put you in harm’s way.” Colin’s voice softened a bit.

  “All right, all right. I understand.” It was a protective reaction, and if she was honest, she rather liked the macho gesture. Emily smiled in spite of herself. “You go and ask the questions, make the deals, and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

  “Thank you, Emily.”

  His arms encircled her and she melted into his chest, inhaling his musky scent.

  “I said I’d try.”

  Chapter 17

  Colin called the police chief before he left Emily’s house. She heard him explain the circumstances, and how in the interest of finding the truth, he needed to go and question Harry Andropov as a new lead in the Vega murder. The police chief seemed to balk at the expense of going, because Colin went on to say that just because they had arrested whom they considered the prime suspect, they would not want Paradise Valley to be known for putting the wrong person in prison because they couldn’t be bothered to spring for a plane ticket.

  Emily listened intently and formulated her thoughts while Colin talked. Then as soon as he was gone, she phoned Alex and recounted everything. She explained that she had wanted to go with Colin, but he had adamantly told her to stay in town.

  Emily had other ideas, though. There was more than one flight to New York City in the morning and he had no right to stop her. Although she had agreed with Colin that he would be the one to interrogate Mr. Andropov, she had every right to follow up on leads to clear her client.

  “I’m glad to see the police are looking at someone besides Delia,” Alex said.

  “So am I. Colin and the ADA were pretty set that Delia had to have done it. It was an open and shut case, as Miss Laraway put it.”

  “One question, though, Em. You were with Colin tonight when he got the call from New York?”

  “Yes.”

  “On a date?” Alex asked.

  “Um...yeah,” she admitted cautiously.

  “Well, Isabel and the girls will be happy to hear that.”

  “I’m sure they will be. Now let’s get back to the case, Alex.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Andropov is alluding to the fact that he knows who the killer was. I’m just holding my breath hoping he doesn’t say it was Delia.”

  “Oh, man, that would just put the final nail in her coffin. You didn’t say that to Colin, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Whew.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence there, Alex. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “We’ll just sit tight and wait to hear from you. Stay safe.”

  * * *

  The next morning Colin was on a flight to New York City, not reaching the east coast until early evening. He hopped in a taxi and went directly to the police station where Detective Joey Marconi was waiting for him.

  “Hey, Colin,” Joey called out as Colin stepped off the elevator, giving his friend a bear hug.

  “It’s good to see you, man. What’s it been? Six years?”

  “More like seven,” Joey replied.

  “You look good, old man,” Colin kidded.

  “You, too. That small town life must be agreeing with you.” He laughed. “Oh, before I forget, there’s someone here to see you.”

  “Me?” Colin questioned warily.

  “Yes, here she comes,” Joey replied, gesturing toward the young woman walking up behind Colin.

  Colin spun around to see who it could be. “Emily?”

  “Hello, Colin. Did you have a good flight?” she asked with a satisfied grin. “You didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?”

  “You know this girl?” Joey asked, eyeing Emily flirtatiously.

  “Yes,” Colin replied, pausing as he breathed in deeply. “This is Emily Parker,” Colin introduced.

  “A friend of yours?” Joey asked Colin.

  “No, I’m a private investigator, just here to find out what I can about Mr. Andropov.”

  “A lady PI—well, well,” Joey teased. He leaned over to Colin and whispered loudly in his ear. “She’s smokin’ hot, man. You and she?”

  “No,” Colin responded quietly, glancing over at Emily.

  She returned his gaze, clearly overhearing every word and understanding he did not want to divulge their personal relationship.

  “Mind if I, uh...” Joey implied.

  “Not a good idea, my friend,” Colin said.

  Emily scowled, looking a bit taken aback by this New Yorker’s audacity.

  “Okay,” Joey responded, “moving on. I had Andropov brought up from holding, so he and his attorney are waiting for us in the box. Right this way.”

  “The box?” Emily asked quizzically.

  “The interrogation room,” Colin explained. Emily nodded, fishing her pen and pad out of her leather handbag. “But you can’t be in there.”

  “I’ll just stand in the corner and take notes. I’ll be quiet as a mouse,” she promised. “Please.”

  “Sorry,” Joey told her. “Tell you what I can do—I’ll let you watch from the observation room.” He looked to Colin for the okay.

  “I guess that’d be all right,” Colin reluctantly agreed.

  Joey showed her to the observation room and left her there to watch them at work.

  Harry Andropov and his lawyer looked up when the two detectives came into the room. Harry was a man of average height and build, and appeared to be in his middle to late forties. His graying dark hair was cropped short and a day’s worth of stubble covered several scars on his hardened face. Anyone could see this man had lived a hard life, likely both in his native Russia as well as his more recent time in the U.S.

  Joey set a tape recorder on the table and they took a seat across from them. “We’ll be recording our conversation, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Fine,” the attorney agreed.

  Colin pushed the record button on the device and began the interrogation. “Detective Marconi tells me you have some information on a murder in Paradise Valley.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What do you got?”

  “What are you offering?” the attorney asked.

  “The drug arrest would probably get you fifteen to twenty,” Colin replied. He turned and asked Joey, “What would information on a murder be worth to the state of New York?”

  “I could probably get five or ten years knocked off, but the information would have to be good,” Joey responded.

  “How do we know you are not the murderer?” Colin asked Harry.

  “No, Mr. Andropov is not the murderer,” the lawyer responded for his client. He leaned over and whispered something into Harry’s ear, and Harry whispered something back. Andropov raised questioning eyebrows at his attorney.

  “Mr. Andropov would like to tell you what happened, but he needs your assurance that you will not hold him accountable for anything he did or conspired to do in Paradise Valley,” the lawyer said.

  “Aside from murder, you mean?” Colin asked. “Because there’s not a chance in hell we would let this guy walk on a murder charge.”

  “Let me assure you, Detectives, Mr. Andropov did not kill anyone in Paradise Valley. However...he may have done some things that might possibly be construed as illegal. So, in exchange for his cooperation and testimony, if he tells you what he knows, he wants full immunity from prosecution on those acts, in addition to a reduced sentence on the drug charges here in New York.”

  “He doesn’t want much, does he?” Joey quipped.

  “I can’t speak for the State of New York,” Colin said, glancing at his friend, “but I believe I can do something to help you in Idaho, assuming you have good info and you can prove you’re not the murderer, Harry.” He would have to get any deal he made approved by the District Attorney, but if he didn’t promise help to Andropov in some way he’d probably never know the truth of what happened.

  The lawyer nodded to his client to proceed with his story.

  “The man you call
Ricardo Vega, his name is Richard Vale,” Andropov said in a thick Russian accent, “like I told other detective yesterday. He owe my boss couple hundred thousand. He disappear a few years ago and we try to find him ever since.”

  “How did you know Ricardo, or Richard, was in the Boise area?” Colin questioned.

  “My niece. She live in that area. She write to me that she have new boyfriend named Ricardo and send me photo. Picture is of her and Richard. Picture look like she cut other people out, so I ask her why when I phone her and she say she cut out ex-wife. She did not know we have been searching for Richard.”

  “Who is your niece?” Colin asked.

  “Anna Petrova.”

  “Anna Petrova?” Colin was stunned and he was sure Emily was in the other room feeling the same state of shock he was.

  “What? Why you ask like that?” Andropov questioned.

  “Never mind, keep going,” Colin directed, gesturing in a circular motion with his hand, trying to keep the interview on track. “What’s the rest of the story?”

  “Okay, okay. My niece she tell me she work with him at company called...Heaven something...I forget. So, I go there and wait for him in parking lot. When I see him come out,” Andropov continued, “I walk over and we talk a little.”

  “He just stood there and talked to you?” Colin raised an eyebrow.

  “No, I have gun. We walk to car and get inside and talk. I ask for money, but he say he does not have it. He say he has some, but not all.”

  “Then what?” Colin pressed.

  “He say if I kill wife, he get life insurance money and company. Then he pay twice what he owe.”

  Colin maintained a poker face. “Then what happened?”

  “I say sure, if it get boss two times money—why not.”

  “Go on,” Colin said with interest.

  “He give me address and he tell me come to house Sunday night at seven-thirty. He say park across street and wait for signal. So I do that. I tell him if I no get money, he will be one to die. You know, scare him a little.” Andropov chuckled. “So, I drive up and park. I see in front window he is arguing with woman. She slap him and he slap her back. I say to myself, I like this guy. He no let woman hit him.”