Naked Truth

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “It’s your godfather, Nikolai,” Mark finally said. “He’s been murdered.”

  DRAKE HAD SLICKED HIS blond curls back into a tight ponytail that he’d tucked into his shirt. He stood at parade rest over Nikolai’s casket and clenched his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t go for Oksana Bobrova’s throat. She was dressed in a leopard-fur coat that made her look like a color-blind Cruella De Vil. Her hair was painstakingly set high on her head. All the rings and bracelets she wore flashed into the priest’s eyes, making him wince at the glare during his sermon whenever she dabbed crocodile tears off her heavily made-up face.

  Standing next to Oksana were her son, Stefan, and Pam. Pam’s face looked red and blotchy. She wasn’t a pretty crier like Oksana was. And it burned him that she clung to that moron Stefan’s hand like a lifeline. Surely, she had to suspect that his mother had ordered the hit on Nikolai. Drake had pulled on the mirrored sunglasses as soon as he saw her. He didn’t need her to recognize Ralphie, who had quit the hospital and vanished into thin air the day after Dr. Chris Mastandrea’s arrest.

  Andrej’s sobs brought him back to the reason they were there. Andrej was built like a bear, even resembled one with all the hair. But he was a marshmallow inside, always had been. His father had tried to toughen him up by making him take boxing lessons, but Andrej would skip out to feed an alley cat. He was a veterinarian now. Doing as well as he could.

  “Papa,” Andrej cried. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

  Drake put a bracing arm on him. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I told him to move out of that house. It’s no good.”

  “The house wasn’t the issue. It was the junkies looking to score and Nikolai not backing down.”

  “He never backed down from anything in his life. He certainly wouldn’t have let punks come into his home and steal from him.”

  “That’s true,” Drake said.

  “Would you have gone on your knees and let them rob you?”

  “No, I would have shot them. Why didn’t your father?”

  “What are you saying, Drago?”

  Drake pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the stabbing pain that felt like his brain was leaking out of his head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. They let me look at the crime scene and the evidence as a courtesy. I’m not officially on the case.”

  Andrej stuttered, and Drake interrupted him.

  “I said not officially. I’ll find who did this.”

  “Why his home? Why not take the bar? There’s more money.”

  “He was isolated at home.”

  “I should have been there.”

  “You might have died too.” Drake gripped his arm. “Was your dad into anything stupid?”

  “You ask me this now, at his funeral?” Andrej turned tear-filled eyes at him.

  Drake shook his head. “Forget it. I’m just pissed, and I hate standing here when he’s in the ground.”

  Andrej clasped him in a hug that nearly cracked his ribs. “He loved you like a son. He wanted me to be tough like you.”

  “He loved you just the way you are,” Drake said.

  “You find his murderers and leave the rest to me. I’m going to kill them.”

  “No, you’re not, Andrej. You’re not a killer.”

  “Or maybe I get someone to do it for me.”

  “Don’t go down that road. I’ll handle this. Let me do this for you and for him.” Drake gestured to the coffin.

  Andrej gave a tight nod and allowed Drake steady him when it was time to leave the grave site. Drake should have expected it, because Oksana had brass balls the size of meteors, but he was still taken aback when her entourage approached them.

  “Andrejechka.” She put her red-painted claws on his face and kissed him. “How we will miss your father. He was the light of the neighborhood.”

  “Thank you, Babushka Oksana.”

  Despite the circumstances, Drake’s lips twitched at her reaction. Oksana didn’t like being reminded of her age. But she let go of Andrej’s face before she scarred him with her nails and turned to Drake.

  “And you, Drago? What are you going to do about this?”

  “We will catch the killer and bring him—or her—to justice.”

  Oksana snorted. “Thieves killing respectable businessmen. It’s an outrage.”

  “I’m shocked it happened on your watch,” Drake said.

  She was too shrewd to take the bait. Instead, she gestured and asked, “You remember my son, Stefan?”

  Stefan was literally the golden boy. Slavic blond with ice-blue eyes, he didn’t have to work for much in his life, even without his mother’s money and influence. He’d tried his hand at the Olympics but didn’t make the final cut. Drake recalled that he worked at a gym somewhere in New York.

  Stefan shook both Andrej’s and Drake’s hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t know Nikolai well, but I’ve been to the bar a few times.”

  “Who is your friend?” Andrej said, looking at Pam.

  “Doctor Pam Krupin, this is Andrej Bobrov, Nikolai’s son, and Detective Sergeant Drake Logan. He was Nikolai’s godson.”

  “I’m so very sorry, Andrej,” she said, “Your father was one of my patients. He was a wonderful man. I will miss him. He used to brag that you were the best animal doctor in the world.”

  Andrej blinked back tears and pulled Pam in for a gruff hug before kissing her loudly on both cheeks. He set her back down when she cleared her throat.

  “I don’t know if you remember me?” Pam said to Drake. “We met at Tea Time?” She held out her hand but let it drop when Drake just stared at her. “Nikolai spoke very highly of you too. He was proud you were a detective.”

  Drake realized he was clenching his jaw and forced himself to ease up before he ground his teeth into powder. He couldn’t manage a thank-you without his voice cracking, so he nodded instead.

  “Thank you,” Andrej said. “You must come back to the bar with us.” He took her by the elbow.

  Pam shook her head, even as Oksana and Stefan nodded.

  “What else did Nikolai say to you?” Oksana asked sweetly.

  Pam glared at her and gently extracted herself from Andrej’s grip. “I need to get back to the hospital.”

  “I insist,” Drake said to her, bringing her attention back to him. “I want to talk to you about what happened at Harding General a few nights ago. If that’s agreeable with you, Miss Krupin?”

  “That doesn’t matter now,” she said, turning to Oksana and her son to explain. “It was an unfortunate situation involving a coworker of mine and some poor choices.”

  “Do you think that’s related to my father’s murder?” Andrej said.

  Drake looked over at Oksana, who was trying not to appear too obvious about listening to the conversation. “Maybe.”

  Pam gaped at him. “I don’t see how. But I gave my statement to the investigating officer that night. I would be glad to go over it with you, but right now, I need to get back to work.”

  “You’re on call. Joan said she’d page you if anyone needed you,” Stefan said.

  “Please,” Andrej said, his voice shaking. “Drink for my papa.”

  Pam looked at all of them, and it was obvious she was out of excuses. “Of course,” she said reluctantly and threaded her arm through Stefan’s again.

  Oksana’s face looked like she was sucking on a lemon.

  That was interesting.

  Drake handed off Andrej to Marishka so he could follow the trio back to their cars. “So, where do you two know each other from?” Drake said.

  “We were high school sweethearts,” Stefan said, giving Pam an adoring look.

  “I don’t remember you from high school, Miss Krupin.”

  “Why don’t you call me Pam, Officer?”

  “Detective.”

  “Really?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “I would think a detective would remember that I was introduced to him as Doctor Krupin.�
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  Drake grinned. She really didn’t take any guff from anyone. “Pam, I would have remembered you.”

  She shook her head. “I doubt that. I wasn’t in high school for long. My parents moved around a lot.”

  Drake saw the sneer on Oksana’s face again. It warranted investigation, but he didn’t think there was any love lost between the two of them.

  “I cannot stand out in the wind anymore. It’s wrecking my hair. Stefan, get in the car,” Oksana said, and Stefan jumped like a frog to open the door for her.

  “Do you know the way to Nikolai’s?” Stefan asked Pam.

  She nodded. “I’ll see you there.”

  Drake and Pam watched Stefan pull the big Mercedes out of the parking lot and speed away.

  “You’re not thinking of ditching us, are you?” Drake said.

  “It crossed my mind. Wakes aren’t my thing.”

  “They’re not anyone’s thing.”

  “True,” Pam said and rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Have you had any other stalkers since the incident?”

  “No, but I am worried about a friend of mine. Can you walk with me to my car, Detective?”

  “Drake.” He reached out for her hand and shook it. “I’m sorry if I was being a jerk.”

  “It’s understandable.”

  Drake gave a humorless laugh. “You’re supposed to say something along the lines of ‘no, not at all.’”

  “Why? You were being a jerk. But like I said, it’s understandable.”

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you, lady?”

  “You’re a cop. Buck up.”

  Drake’s grin eased across his face. Pam’s eyes sharpened on him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You do look familiar. Who was your homeroom teacher?”

  “Man, we’re going back twenty-some-odd years. Mrs. Shea?”

  “I’ve got to look in the yearbook,” she said.

  “Don’t be disappointed when you see me. I was a bit of a dirtbag back then.”

  “How did the dirtbag get to be a detective?”

  “It was either that or jail,” he said and opened her car door for her.

  “Come on, you can’t say something like that without explaining the rest of it.”

  “If you want more details, then you’ve got to go to Nikolai’s.” He was trying not to be distracted by her luscious mouth and the black curls that the wind kept blowing in her face. He remembered that kiss, and inappropriate images burned away the grief for a moment. Those frank blue eyes seared something deep inside him. He felt a hard coil of lust that shocked him as much for its timing as anything. He wanted to kiss her again and, this time, not stop.

  “That’s a hard bargain. Are you going to take off your sunglasses when we get inside?”

  He shook his head. “My eyes are all red and puffy from crying. It blows my tough-guy shtick.” And she might just recognize me from something other than high school, which would blow my cover.

  “All right. I’ll see you there. Just one drink.”

  Good luck with that, he thought as he closed the door and watched her pull away. He scanned the parking lot and the other mourners. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He nodded at the two plainclothes detectives who were on the murder case. They were standing next to his partner. Mark and Drake were Vice, not Homicide. Nikolai’s case was better off in the murder cops’ hands. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that even if they caught the punks who had broken into Nikolai’s house and beaten him to death with a baseball bat, they wouldn’t be able to tie it back to Oksana.

  He sauntered over to the detectives. “Did you pick up Vadim Fomin?”

  “Not your case, Logan.”

  “Peace, McNally. I come in peace.” Drake held out his hands. “Cut me a break. We just buried my godfather.”

  “Yeah, sorry for your loss.”

  Mark gave Drake a man hug and pounded his back. “Nikolai rocked, man.”

  “We’re going to hunt down the animals that did it,” the other detective, Johansson, said. “Unfortunately, Fomin has an alibi.”

  “Of course he does.” Drake kicked the dirt.

  “Actually, this one is watertight. He was in police custody for resisting when they went to ask him about Nikolai’s doctor’s complaint.”

  “It’s not his style anyway,” McNally said as he unwrapped a stick of gum and crammed it in his mouth. “We’d never have found Nikolai, or he’d have been floating in the river.”

  “One thing you should know,” his partner said. “I don’t know if you checked your messages.”

  Drake shook his head.

  “The two scumbags who attacked Nikolai’s doctor? They’re pressing charges against her.”

  “For what?” Drake exploded.

  “Assault. Claim she Tasered one for no reason and then beat the snot out of the little one.”

  “Seriously, they’re going to pin the beating they got on Pam? That’s going to put their reps in the toilet. Who put them up to it?”

  “I dunno, but the marshal is going to serve her papers tomorrow.”

  “I got news for you,” McNally said. “She ain’t going to survive to go to court.”

  Chapter Seven

  Pam stopped by her office on the way to the wake. Anything to put off going to the bar and saying good-bye to a friend. Sitting on top of her desk, along with the rest of her mail, was a plain, brown package. It was addressed to her but didn’t have a return address on it.

  She sat down at her desk and used her letter opener to peel off the wrapper. A card was placed on the box. She opened it up and was glad she was sitting down.

  I’m sorry to hear those thugs gave you a hard time. I’ll take care of it. Please accept this gift. It was hand carved and painted in Russia. I’ll show you a trick when I see you next week. Sincerely, Nikolai Egorov

  “Nikolai,” Pam said sadly. She looked at the postmark on the wrapper. He’d sent it the day he died. Fingers shaking, she opened the box. It was a set of matryoshka dolls.

  The big doll was painted wearing a red-and-black peasant dress with a red babushka covering her hair.

  “I know this trick,” she said, twisting the wood to separate the top half from the bottom half of the doll. As expected, a slightly smaller doll, painted and carved in exact detail, was there. It repeated for four other dolls. The sixth doll was a tiny version of the previous ones. Only this one didn’t open.

  Pam blinked back tears. It was a lovely gift. And unlike some of the other ones he had brought to her, this one would have a special place of honor. Going into her treatment room, she rearranged her shelf to line the dolls in a row and put her candles on either side. They were regal, just like Nikolai had been. Speaking of, she owed it to him to go to his wake and say good-bye. But first, she had to see if she could find Ralphie. She was worried that the thugs would find him first and hurt him. Of course, she really wanted to corner him and ask him why he quit a good job. Why did he run away? She had come on a little strong. Maybe he thought... Pam sighed. She didn’t know what he was thinking. She, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

  She took a quick walk around the hospital and a drive around the block, hoping to spot him, but he had disappeared. In fact, it had been almost a week since he’d hightailed it out of the hospital. Maybe he’d decided to hitchhike down to Florida to be with his family. Pam just hoped he was safe. She wished they had some time to explore the chemistry between them. She didn’t give a damn if he was homeless. She liked him. A lot.

  With great reluctance, she drove to Nikolai’s Tasting Room. Parking was a nightmare, but she managed to parallel park a few streets down. When she got out of her car, Detective Logan was waiting for her.

  He oozed a weird combination of menace and safety. Even in heels, she felt short next to him. She couldn’t decide if he looked really sexy in the mirrored shades or a little bit like a caricature of an FBI agent.


  “I thought you might have changed your mind,” he said.

  “I went back to the hospital. I’m concerned about a friend of mine. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?”

  “I can’t do anything about parking tickets.”

  “Somehow I doubt that, but it’s not what I was asking. Have you read the report from my attack a few weeks ago?”

  “Yes.” Drake took her arm and led her across the street into the noisy bar. “If we’re going to talk business, I’m going to need a drink first.”

  The drinking had begun in earnest, and she was surrounded by people who were laughing, crying, and generally talking over one another. Drake grabbed a bottle of Stoli Cristall around the neck and pulled her into the kitchen.

  “This is my favorite place,” he said. “I used to wash dishes and beg for scraps.”

  “He still begs for scraps,” Marishka said, coming out of the walk-in freezer. Her red-rimmed eyes were bloodshot

  “I’ll watch the roasts,” Drake said. “Why don’t you go into the lounge and relax?”

  “I will, Drago. You’re a good boy.” She kissed him on the cheek and left them alone.

  Drake checked the temperature on the ovens.

  “You cook too?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t screw up. That’s how Marishka puts it. He left her the bar, you know.”

  “Is Andrej mad about that?”

  Drake gave a short bark of laughter. “He burns spaghetti.”

  “How do you burn spaghetti?”

  “Don’t ask. I’d rather eat dog food than what he cooks up. No, Marishka is like a mother to him. Me too. He’s probably relieved he doesn’t have to worry about what to do with the place. She should sell it and retire.”

  “And then what?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Get the hell out of here. Go somewhere and bake in the sun.”

  “Is that what you're going to do when you retire?”

  “I got a long way until retirement.” Drake poured them each large glasses of vodka.

  Pam’s eyes grew wide at the amount of booze in the glass. “You’re kidding, right?”