The Scent of Lies

by Debra Burroughs

  “Get back to the story, Harry,” Joey ordered.

  “Okay, okay. At first, I think this must be wife, but no, because couple of minutes later, front door open and woman, she come out. I think maybe this is my niece, it look like her, but her head is down. She does not look at me. I cannot tell for sure. She get in car then drive away. Richard, he nod to me and go back inside. I get out of car and walk across street. But, as I walk up to house, I see Richard arguing again with woman.”

  Colin could practically hear Emily in the other room—he hadn’t known her long, but he sensed she was imploring him to ask his next question. “Another woman? Who was it?” Colin turned toward the observation room and winked.

  “I don’t know. I cannot see face. She have long dark hair like my niece, but I think to myself the young woman who just left was maybe my niece, or is this my niece? I don’t know.” He paused, shaking his head.

  “Go on,” Colin directed.

  “They argue. I see she have knife in her hand. Richard, he reach out and grab her by her arms but she pull free and stab him in the stomach, over and over. So I get back in my car and drive off fast as I can.”

  “Do you think the woman you saw kill Richard was his wife?”

  “I don’t know. Like I say before, I did not see her face. But Richard told me his wife have long dark hair.”

  “What was she wearing—the woman with the knife?” Colin asked.

  “Let me see,” he paused and looked upward, like he was trying to picture the scene again. “Something light, like white or—how you say?—beige.”

  “So you’re saying both women had long dark hair and were about the same height?” Colin questioned.

  Andropov nodded.

  “So they could have been the same person,” Colin said.

  Suddenly the intercom cut in, and Emily’s tight-sounding voice reverberated through the room. “Ask him how Ricardo was planning to have an alibi for his wife’s murder if he was at the house to let him in.”

  “What’s that?” Andropov jumped out of his seat.

  “Yes, Detectives, who was that?” the surprised attorney questioned.

  “I’m sorry about that, it was a little mouse,” Colin apologized. “That never should have happened.” He turned and glared at the two-way mirror. “Please Mr. Andropov, have a seat.”

  “But the little mouse does have a good point,” Joey added. “Harry?” He eyed the man.

  “He say he will leave when I come in. He say to make it look like robbery.”

  “What about the housekeeper, Andropov?” Colin asked. “The wife would not have been alone in the house.”

  “Yes. Richard say she would be in room at back of house, but if I see her, kill her too—that is only way I get boss’s money.”

  “Okay, Harry, let’s go back to the woman you saw kill Richard. You’re saying you think she may have been your niece?” Colin asked.

  “Maybe—I cannot say. It may have been Anna who left. I don’t know.”

  “This doesn’t make sense to me,” Colin said with disgust. He dropped his pen hard on the table. “Why would you give up your niece? To save yourself?”

  “What is the American saying?” he posed, his eyes becoming narrow and steely. “Every man for himself.”

  “That’s cold, man,” Joey commented.

  “Her mother was my sister. She never approve of what I do for living. She say I am dead to her and stay away from her daughter. I no hear from Anna for years, until letter and picture saying she is pregnant and needs money. So, I no go to prison for her.”

  “How can we be certain you didn’t kill Richard?” Colin studied Andropov’s face for a tell.

  “If I kill Richard, my boss no get his money. If my boss no get his money and it is my fault, boss will have someone kill me.”

  “Well, Detective?” the attorney asked, looking at Colin. “Is that enough to make a deal?”

  “Possibly. I’ll have to talk to the District Attorney, but I think we can work something out.” Colin stood up and Joey followed his lead. “We’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  Emily and Colin shared a taxi back to the airport. He’d been furious with her for coming when he had specifically told her not to. Although he did concede that she had brought up some valid points. She, on the other hand, would not be held back from finding the truth, and Colin would just have to get used to it if he wanted to be in her life.

  They stopped for a quick bite at one of the airport eateries as they waited for their flight home, sharing a couple slices of New York-style pizza.

  Emily took a moment and texted Alex that they were done with the interview, having a bite to eat, and that they would be flying through the night to get home. They agreed to chat in the morning and Emily tucked her phone away.

  She turned to Colin with a question. “Do you believe what Harry Andropov told us?” Emily dabbed her lips with a napkin.

  Colin swallowed his bite of pizza and cleared his throat with a swig of Coke. “It makes sense, and it seems to match the timeline of what the other witnesses have given us.”

  “So, if someone hadn’t killed Ricardo, or Richard, or whatever we choose to call him, then Delia would be dead now,” Emily took another bite of her pizza, wrestling with the stringy cheese, “possibly Marcela, too.”

  “It certainly sounds that way,” Colin agreed with grease dripping down his chin.

  Without thinking, Emily reached over and wiped it with her napkin. He smiled and she awkwardly offered her own smile in return, suddenly aware how intimate the gesture was.

  He continued. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t Delia that Andropov saw through the window.”

  So much for intimacy. Emily pulled the napkin back and threw it down on the table, her anxiety replaced with irritation. “What’s it going to take to make you see Delia didn’t do it?”

  “How about solid evidence?”

  “Andropov all but pointed to his niece as the killer,” she shot back.

  “He never saw her face, and he said he saw her leave, if it was his niece.”

  “Even if it wasn’t his niece, whoever she was, she could have gone around the corner and come back in through the rear of the house. Don’t forget the house sits on a corner and the backyard is easily accessible from that side.”

  “That is a possibility, Emily, but it’s not proof.”

  “Well, it does prove that Mr. Osterman was wrong about seeing Ricardo and Delia arguing.”

  “I’ll give you that,” Colin agreed, polishing off the last of his pizza.

  “Doesn’t it make you wonder, if the young woman was not Andropov’s niece, who was she?”

  “Yeah, it does.” He downed the last of his soda.

  “If it was Anna Petrova, she would have motive, you know, with him having gotten her pregnant and then refusing to leave Delia to marry her.”

  “Granted, you do have a point,” he said, eyeing her uneaten half a piece of pizza. “Are you going to finish that?”

  She pushed it over to him. “Wait a minute,” she said, coming to a realization. “It had to have been Anna.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, I know for a fact it was Anna that Ricardo was having the affair with, assuming he was only cheating with one woman. Remember, the housekeeper said she heard Ricardo arguing with a woman about their affair and that she was pregnant.”

  “That’s right, I do recall reading that in her statement, but she never gave the woman’s name.”

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you?” she asked sheepishly. “I uncovered a piece of information that confirmed it was Anna, Delia’s assistant, that Ricardo was seeing on the side.”

  “No, you must have forgotten to mention that.” He glared at the oversight.

  “Sorry,” Emily apologized with a grimace, feeling the need to quickly change the subject. “Speaking of the housekeeper—”

  “Who was speaking of the housekeeper?” he interrupted.

&nbs
p; Emily ignored his comment and continued. “I was flabbergasted when Andropov said Ricardo told him to kill Marcela, as well. Can you believe that?”

  “Yeah, it stunned me too,” he replied, grinning at her, which took her by surprise. She assumed it meant all was forgiven.

  “What so funny?” She was puzzled by his expression.

  “You.” He smiled. “You continue to amaze me, woman, asking all these probing questions, looking at the situation from every angle. What did Joey call you? The hot lady PI?”

  “You got that right, mister,” she teased, “and don’t you forget it!”

  Chapter 18

  They caught the red-eye flight back to Boise, with a short layover in Denver, which put them into Boise just as the sunrise was breaking, casting a spectacular orange glow over the Rocky Mountains.

  Colin was able to sleep through most of the flight, but too many thoughts and ideas swirling in Emily’s head had kept her from getting much rest. Not long before their final descent was announced, she’d managed to doze off.

  As the flight attendant announced over the loudspeaker that they were preparing for landing, Emily woke just enough to be aware that she had both her hands clinging to Colin’s muscular upper arm, and had been leaning her head on his shoulder as she slept.

  He gently nudged her. “Smokin’ hot lady PI,” he sang softly into her ear. She smiled, but did not move.

  “Are we home yet?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

  “Almost.”

  * * *

  Colin dropped Emily off at her house and told her he was going home to shower and change before heading in to work. He would need to fill the police chief in on what they had learned, as well as ADA Laraway.

  “I’ll call you later today,” he said as she climbed out of the car.

  She turned and smiled, “Okay.” Then, waving at him, she walked up her front steps. Turning again when she got to the door, she noticed he was still watching her all the way inside. She was warmed by the knowledge that he was protecting her.

  Emily texted Alex that she was back in Boise but hadn’t slept all night, asking if she could have a few hours sleep before she filled him in on what she had found out. Since it was only seven o’clock in the morning, Alex replied that he wanted to hear from her by ten.

  “Will do,” she answered before setting her alarm, taking her jeans off, and crawling into her crisp, cool sheets.

  Ten o’clock rolled around and the buzzer sounded on her alarm clock. She turned over and hit the snooze button once more, wishing she didn’t have to get up yet. However, the thought that Alex was waiting for his briefing motivated her to climb out of bed.

  Emily wandered into the kitchen, still in her underwear and t-shirt, and turned her coffee maker on, hoping the caffeine would wake her up. She noticed one of the kitchen drawers was not quite closed and a corner of the photo that she had stuck in it was peeking out. Snatching the photo out and laying it on the counter, she shoved the drawer shut all the way and went back to watching her coffee as it percolated through her coffee maker. She phoned Alex to brief him on what she learned.

  “So, what did you find out?” Alex asked. “Give me the whole scoop.”

  Emily shared the content of the interrogation, focusing on Andropov’s claim that he was there to murder Delia.

  “What?” Alex shrieked.

  “It gets better,” Emily said. “Ricardo, whose real name was Richard Vale, owed Andropov’s boss, a Russian gangster, a ton of money. Ricardo promised Andropov he would pay his debt from Delia’s life insurance and profits from her company.”

  “Boy, I never saw that coming.” He sounded stunned. “So, Delia was the real target.”

  “Yes, according to Andropov’s story, but get this—Anna, Delia’s assistant, is Andropov’s niece.”

  “So, he would probably color his story to protect her, wouldn’t he?”

  “Not necessarily,” she replied. “He told us she may have been the one he saw stab Ricardo, he couldn’t be sure.”

  “But why would he implicate his own niece?”

  “He said he wasn’t going to prison for her—every man for himself, as he put it.”

  “What a gem. Well, I need you to put all of this information in a report for our files. Then we’ll have it handy to refer to.”

  “What about Delia? Shouldn’t we fill her in on what we found out? Bring her up to speed, so to speak?”

  “Absolutely. We’re meeting at her house at three, so why don’t you have the report written and printed out by then and meet us there?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “So, tell me. How was it working with Colin?” he inquired.

  “Actually, I think it went pretty well. His buddy, the New York City detective, gave me a new nickname and Colin seems to like calling me that.”

  “What is it?” Alex asked.

  “Well, I’m probably going to regret telling you, but...”

  “Oh, come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

  “He called me the smokin’ hot lady PI.” She could hear Alex laughing out loud, one of those deep belly laughs that fills a room. “It’s not that funny!” she shouted.

  “I’m sorry, Em,” he apologized, curbing his laughter. “It could be worse,” he said, breaking out in laughter again.

  “Bye, Alex.” Emily hung up the phone and poured her coffee, stirring a little sweetener into it.

  The photo on the counter seemed to be calling to her. She picked it up and looked at it again. She couldn’t help but focus on the woman but then she shook her head. She didn’t have time for ruminations—she had a report to write. Emily retrieved her trusty notepad from her handbag, set her coffee down and pulled out a chair at the table. She flipped her laptop open and began perusing her notes.

  As she finished typing the last details, she contemplated who could have killed Ricardo if it wasn’t Delia and it wasn’t Andropov. It had to be Anna, didn’t it?

  She looked over at the photo. Could it have had anything to do with Evan’s death? Were they tied together somehow?

  The sound of the phone ringing in the otherwise quiet house jerked her out of her thoughts. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Em, it’s Isabel.”

  “Hi, what’s up?”

  “Delia gave me access to their company records, passwords and everything. I’ve been doing some snooping under the radar. I thought you might like to know what I’ve found as I’ve been going over Ricardo’s financials.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Ricardo was getting a sizable salary and his car expenses paid for. Beyond that, he took a few additional bonuses of five to ten thousand dollars each. They seem to be legit. I haven’t been able to find any hidden bank accounts anywhere yet.”

  “Try looking under the name Richard Vale instead of Ricardo Vega,” Emily suggested.

  “Why? Who’s Richard Vale?”

  “That’s Ricardo’s real name, before he came to Paradise Valley.”

  “Well, that could change everything, Em.”

  “I thought it might.”

  “But there was something else. In going over the company’s financials, there were some...let’s call them irregularities,” Isabel said.

  “Irregularities?”

  “Some things that just don’t look right. Maybe I’ll be able to figure it out when I search for Richard Vale’s financials, because someone is definitely siphoning off funds. If it wasn’t the husband, then it was someone else at Heaven Scent.”

  “Could it have been Delia’s assistant, Anna Petrova?”

  “I can’t say yet. I don’t know what kind of access she has. So I’m going to dig into this Richard Vale, now that I know, and do some more research in the Heaven Scent accounts. Anna Petrova, huh? I’ll check her out, too.”

  “Thanks,” Emily said.

  “You’re welcome, smokin’ hot lady PI.”

  “Oh, brother! You’ve been talking to Alex.”

  Chapter 19


  Emily arrived at Delia’s home, finding Alex already there.

  “Come in, come in,” Delia welcomed her, holding the door open. “Alex is in the living room.”

  Greeting Alex, Emily took a seat next to him on the sofa.

  “Did you bring your report?” Alex asked.

  “Yes, right here,” she replied, patting a folder on her lap.

  As Delia was taking a seat in one of the chairs that faced the sofa, Marcela walked in with a tray of cookies and tall glasses of sweet tea. She set the tray on the coffee table, not making eye contact with any of them.

  “Thank you, Marcela,” Delia said, as the housekeeper left them alone.

  “How has it been for you, working from home?” Alex asked, taking a glass of tea.

  “Awkward,” she replied. “I don’t have some of the things I need, yet I don’t want to call and ask Anna for anything. Please tell me it won’t be much longer.”

  “I can’t really say at this point, but we are making some headway,” Alex assured her. “As you know, Emily went with Detective Andrews to New York City yesterday to interview a pivotal witness.”

  “So, what did you find, Emily?” she asked.

  “It’s all in there.” Emily handed the folder to Alex.

  He opened the file and scanned the report then closed the folder. “Where do I start?” he muttered.

  Delia looked worried.

  “Some of this report is—well—rather shocking. So prepare yourself, Delia, but we’ll sort it all out,” Alex said.

  “Shocking? Please tell me, I need to know.”

  Alex opened the folder again and began reading the highlights of the report out loud. “Ricardo’s real name was Richard Vale, he owed a Russian gangster several hundred thousand dollars. Ricardo told Andropov to kill you, Delia, and he would pay his debt from the life insurance money.”

  “What?” Delia gasped. “Ricardo hired that man to murder me?” Her eyes grew wide as she put a hand over her open mouth.

  “I’m sorry, Delia. I tried to warn you to prepare yourself,” Alex said.

  “Give me just a moment. I’ll be all right.” Delia shifted in her chair and breathed deeply. “Okay, please proceed.”