The Suitcase

by T V Scribner

  "Enter!" Boris grouched.

  "Your espresso, sir,” he said, cautiously opening the door, scooting over to the desk, and with trembling hands, he set the small tray on the mahogany desktop.

  “Stay close, Yakimov," he groused, as he reached for his espresso, “I’ll have a message to send back."

  "Yes, I'll be here," Yakimov said, and hurried out of the office, closing the door behind him.

  Although Yakimov had worked for Tazvoshenko for two years, the anger his boss displayed almost daily, frightened him. Tazvoshenko, a volatile and dangerous man, headed a Russian Mafia organization, which had grown very large and prosperous, over the years, and Yakimov always remained cognizant, of this fact.

  While Tazvoshenko leaned back in his chair and sipped his espresso, he opened his computer to read the now decrypted, message received earlier. Enraged, he jumped up, pacing between the door to his office and his desk, only stopping once, to down the entire contents of his cup of espresso, before continuing to pace.

  On his next pass by the desk, he used his powerful arm, in a fit of anger, to sweep the basket of papers off the desk, including the empty cup and saucer, which shattered, as it hit the floor. The papers scattered into the air and drifted to the floor, as he bellowed for Yakimov, who rushed into the office.

  "Clean up this mess!" he demanded, then stomped out of the office and into the main area of the warehouse.

  "Yes, sir," Yakimov said weakly, but Tazvoshenko had already traveled too far down the metal-shelved aisles, to hear Yakimov’s feeble reply. Closing the office door, he began picking up the shattered china and papers strewn on the floor.

  The figure of Tazvoshenko striding down the warehouse aisle, in disheveled clothes, old scuffed boots, stuffed with his pant legs, certainly did not represent the image of a wealthy Mafia leader. He used his mass of shoulder-length hair, to partially cover his weathered face, while black eyes glowered from underneath bushy brows. But it was the perpetual sneer, decorating his lips, which intimidated his men.

  "Are the men at the other warehouse today?" Tazvoshenko asked, with his deep gravelly voice.

  Pavel Gorka, his warehouse manager, startled at the ferocious tone in his voice said, “Yes, they are here today working.”

  "Good! If you need me, I will be at other warehouse," and with that, he headed for the side door and into the parking lot, intent on his mission. His other warehouse, located northwest of Moscow's capitol, in an industrial area, was both private and secure—a place to make an urgent phone call, to Zolotov, and he did’t care what time it was, in Minnesota!

  Wednesday, May 17, 2017 Pinecrest Wednesday morning around seven, Paisley met Boone in his office at the precinct, to discuss the reports from Ben’s Burgers. But before tackling them, Boone said, "I thought we'd review the video-feed from the businesses in the mall, across the parking lot from Ben's."

  "Oh, I didn't know you had them." Paisley sat opposite him, as he angled the monitor so she could also, see the feed.

  "Well," he said, with a sigh, when they'd viewed the videos, "It seems the businesses' cameras are too far away from Ben's, to discern if anyone entered or left his establishment that night. It's too dark from that distance."

  “What a shame Ben didn't have video security," Paisley commented, "however, I believe he's considering it now. We talked about it when I paid him a visit the other day. He said nothing had ever happened to concern him enough to consider installing security equipment."

  "Yes, a shame," he echoed, “but, we do have several leads coming from some of the reports and printouts, which I checked over yesterday."

  "Which reports?" she asked.

  "I jotted down names from the employee file, and called a few people, whom I know in high places to check them out, for me. One of the reports contained information on Zolotov, the guy we interviewed. They traced him to a Russian town near Moscow—and it wasn't the town’s name, which he gave to us…and no wonder, since he has quite a colorful background."

  Walking over to the file cabinet, he picked up the papers, sitting on top of the opened drawer, and stood looking through them, for a moment.

  "I'm not surprised," and she scooted her chair over to his side of the desk, to review the reports, "he seemed very uncomfortable and my instincts told me, that something didn’t make sense.”

  Boone looked at her curiously then walked back to the desk and sat in his chair, next to her, ignoring the move of her chair, so close to his. He turned to face her, and said, "The fingerprints we, or I should say, you," he corrected himself, "purloined at Zolotov's, house, have been put through the FBI's facilities, thanks to your clever work, I might add!" She thought she noticed the beginnings of a smile, but he was still in business mode.

  Pleased by his comment, she replied, "I couldn't help myself! My intuition told me to do it, so I simply acted on it. When he brought me the glass of water, I handled it carefully, and dropped it in my purse when no one was looking, so we could test for fingerprints in the lab."

  "Well, we have the prints, and by using them, my contact found Zolotov in the system, and we were able to track several nefarious operations connected to some businesses of his, in Russia, and several other foreign countries."

  "Really? I guess I'm not surprised,” she was eager to hear. “So, what's he done?"

  "He's been accused of spying for the Russians in Britain, and also running munitions from Russia, to some Middle Eastern country, but it was never proven."

  Now he had Paisley's attention, "Wow! How does someone get away with that?"

  "Wait," he said, "that's not all. He also involved himself in a series of robberies in France, in the early 90s, and he became a person-of-interest in the bombing of a restaurant in Italy, which killed some mafia higher-ups. "

  "He has quite the rap-sheet!" she said.

  Boone could see she was pleased to know the fingerprints were so helpful. ”They nabbed several men for these crimes, including Zolotov, but never convicted them, because of their access to fancy lawyers. They couldn’t prove any of these men were connected to these crimes. He's a slippery snake, who's managed to circumvent authorities at every turn."

  "A dangerous man, like him! Why is he here in Brainerd, and what’s he doing?”

  Before he answered her question, he stood up and asked if she'd like some coffee, she nodded, and he left the room for a moment, then returned with two cups.

  He sat the cups on his desk, "I hope you like it black?" She nodded again as he handed her a cup, and continued speaking. "It seems wherever he went, trouble followed. I came across some old photos from a Russian news website, during the time of a brief incarceration, before one of the trials.”

  "Let me see," she said, and stood from her chair to look over his shoulder, at the pictures arranged on his desk. They both examined the three photos, included with in the report, but they appeared blurry, grainy, and could not be identified, as Zolotov.

  “One more thing,” Boone said, “Pyotr Zolotov, is not his real name.”

  “Wow! Okay," she said, then stood up and began to pace, as she tried to wrap her mind around this new piece of information. Stopping and turning to Boone, she said, “…then what is his name?”

  “His real name, as far as we know—because he may have other aliases—is Petrov Zharco.”

  Paisley was quiet for a moment, then moved her chair opposite Boone’s again, and sat down. “Does this make Zolotov our suspect? So, he lied about his name, he’s on the FBI's radar, he's a very high-profile person for this area…does that mean he’s a murderer?” She looked directly at Boone,"Why is he here? Maybe he's exactly who he says he is, and has put his life of crime behind him!”

  "I share your frustration!" Boone moved the files, to the side.

  She continued her thoughts, “But why would he want to kill Kamorov? Is it because he didn't he like the #5 Combo Burger at Ben’s, and blamed Kamorov? None of this makes sense!" Almost through with her rant, she ended with, “I need to kn
ow more information if I'm working on this case too! Is there any other information that you have, and I don't?"

  CHAPTER 18

  “Are you finished?" he said good naturally. She nodded. He continued, "You know the old saying, it's on a need to know basis, and right now..." he trailed off.

  "I know, I know," she replied, with a calmer more resigned tone, "...and right now, I don't need to know!"

  "Look," he said consolingly, as he leaned forward in his chair, “there’s no time at the moment. I’ll fill you in later, I promise! There're still a few more reports to look over and afterwards, an autopsy to attend this morning. You still want to go, don't you?"

  "Of course!" Paisley nodded her head again, and for the moment, she was pacified. She sighed, stared at Boone, and said nothing. They quickly perused several of the other reports with much the same results: grainy pictures, and no new information.

  "Well," she sighed again, "we almost know less now, than when we started. There’re so many unanswered questions."

  "Come on," he urged, "we have to leave for the autopsy. On the way to Ramsey County, I'll explain what to expect. Have you ever attended one?" Boone felt he knew the answer to the question.

  Ramsey County ME Office Upon arrival at the Medical Examiner's Office, they parked in small lot, designated for officers and relatives, and entered the small building tucked next to the Regions Hospital.

  They found themselves standing in front of a secure door with a thick glass window, and were buzzed in and welcomed, by a technician. She directed them to a lounge area where they could wait until the autopsy was ready to begin, since the start times were usually approximate, based on the preparations.

  The two of them, only waited a few minutes before another autopsy technician with a welcoming smile, entered and introduced herself as Ginny. She handed them a mask and gloves to wear, including shoe coverings, which were optional. Both Boone and Paisley put on all of the items, and followed Ginny towards the door, to the postmortem room (which she referred to as the post room), where they were buzzed inside.

  Both detectives reacted to the odors in the room, but it was Paisley, who commented. ”Wow! Wasn't expecting it to smell like this! Potent!"

  Boone agreed, "Yes, even though I've been here before, the first whiff always hits me the hardest.”

  The large room contained four stainless steel tables, with stainless steel sinks at the foot of each table, to catch fluids from the procedure. There were two other autopsies being performed when they entered the room. Dressed in the gown and mask they were given, Ginny positioned them at the head of the table, so they could view the procedure. The body bag was already on the table.

  “Dr. Raj, will be out in just a minute." Ginny said.

  "Where does the Doctor stand?" Paisley asked. She had assumed he would be standing at the head of the table.

  "The Doctor stands to the right side of the table, and I'll be standing on the left,” Ginny responded.

  Although Ginny had on a gown, shoe covers, and a face mask, she proceeded to put on more protection. Paisley watched in fascination, as she pulled a cap over her hair, followed by a full-face plastic shield over the cap, and then another set of sleeves. Paisley, was surprised once more, as Ginny pulled on a pair of heavier gloves, over the latex pair she already had on, and proceeded to add a third pair of latex gloves over those.

  "What kind of a glove is the second pair you put on?" she asked.

  Ginny giggled, "Well, it probably seems like overkill, but they're Kevlar, and with all three layers, it protects my hands from knife cuts."

  Paisley nodded, "Make sense," and leaned towards Boone, whispering softly, "No wonder it feels chilly in here, because it must be hot inside all that protective clothing." Looking up at him, she wondered If he'd smiled, because even if he had, she wouldn't be able to see it, with his face mask.

  His response, was to lean close to her and whisper, "Are you sure you want to participate? There's still time to change your mind."

  "I haven't changed my mind. I really want to be here," she whispered back.

  "Got it," he replied quietly, all the while smiling under his mask. What a determined woman, he thought.

  She considered asking Boone if it was okay to ask questions during the procedure. However, at that moment, Dr. Raj, reached the table and with introductions all around, they turned their attention to the body bag on the table. Because it was a homicide, Ginny hadn't done the prep work, because the Doctor had to be present the entire time, when it was a murder case.

  The body bag could only be unzipped in his presence. Dr. Raj proceeded to do this, then read the tag attached to the bag, "Date: May 17, 2017, Case No.: 876R44105, Name: Gregore Kamorov, From: Crow Wing County Coroner's Office." The bag was removed.

  Pictures were taken of the body in situ, from all angles. Boone handed Documents, from the Crow Wing County forensics team, to Dr. Raj, who proceeded to read them.

  "It's noted here, the body had a cursory prelim examination, prior to being transferred to us, and the stats are: Kamorov, male 28 years old, approximately 177 pounds (80.29 kg), 5' 8" tall, Caucasian."

  Paisley whispered to Boone, "This is fascinating,” prompting Boone to give her ‘the look’.

  Dr. Raj, continued, "According to this information, death occurred sometime between midnight and 7:00 a.m., probably closer to midnight, given the condition of the eyes, and rigor. Hmmm, found in establishment's freezer..." his finger scrolled over the information, "...and immediately transferred to Ramsey County ME offices, as found, in its frozen state."

  Turning to the detectives, he asked, "Can you brief me with any other facts or pertinent information you discovered, or concluded about cause of death?"

  Boone did the talking, while Paisley observed Ginny removing the paper bags, from the body's hands, then bagging nail scrapings and clippings along with other pieces of evidence from the clothing, to be tested for DNA. Dr. Raj turned back to the body, and the clothing was removed and set on top of a new body bag on an adjacent table.

  A barely audible intake of breath, emanated from Paisley, causing Boone to glance at her, "You Okay?" he asked in a hushed voice.

  "I'm fine," she nodded, still repulsed by the odors emanating from the body, which seemed stronger, now that the body was removed from its bag, and unclothed.

  Dr. Raj, began examining the head, noting the laceration on the back of the skull, the condition of the eyes, mouth, throat and bruises on the neck. These were all noted by Dr. Raj, on a notepad.

  Ingles whispered to Boone, "I thought they dictated all their notes into a recorder?”

  Boone said nothing. Next, Dr. Raj, examined the torso and legs to check for bruises, cuts, scars or any other injuries. The Doctor turned, from time to time, making notes on the pad positioned on a small rolling table, to his right, which also held various instruments.

  "Note: Markings: scar on left leg directly under lateral knee cap," he said, and moving back up to the arms remarked, "Small tattoo, in crook of left arm. Green snake with black markings, coiled in S-shape; approximately 2 inches (5.08 cm) long..."

  As soon as the Doctor described the tattoo, Paisley perked up, and just as the Doctor was about to move on, she blurted out, "May I see the tattoo?" Boone, surprised when she asked to see the tattoo, wondered what she was up to, now?

  "Yes, of course, Detective Ingles," and Dr. Raj stepped aside, so she could move a little closer. She stared at it for a moment, then asked, "Is there a way I can get a picture of it?"

  "Sure, if either of you has a precinct camera, you're welcome to take a picture."

  Boone taken aback by her request, gazed at her with curiosity, wondering what her purpose was. She turned and gave him a questioning look. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small camera and handed it to her. She took it and stepped around him, walking to the cadaver's left side, and took several pictures.

  "Thank you, Dr. Raj," she said, and resumed her place next to Boone, and returned
the camera.

  The autopsy proceeded in earnest. A hard-plastic block was positioned between the shoulder blades, causing the chest to protrude, which made the chest easier to access when making incisions. A ‘Y’ incision was made in the torso, and the body opened further, in order to extricate the organs.

  Ginny, the forensic technician, proceeded to weigh the organs, and shave off thin slices to be stored in jars, to examine under a microscope. The Doctor specifically dissected the neck and neck muscles, to determine if the horns of the hyoid bone were broken, which could indicate strangulation.

  When the autopsy, was complete, Dr. Raj turned to the two detectives, "Without the lab test results, including Toxicology tests, which have been ordered, here is my preliminary conclusion, based on my examination. This man was attacked from the front, made a valiant effort to fight off his attacker then fell, hitting the back of his head on the floor. However, it appears to have been banged multiple times on a hard surface, causing a concussion."

  "Dr. Raj, is there any chance that he was still alive when he was put in the freezer? Could the final cause have been freezing to death?” Paisley hated to interrupt, but she was curious. Paisley pictured the suffering he would have experienced, if he had still been conscious, while he froze to death! Boone and Dr. Raj, looked at her, making her suddenly feel self-conscious.

  Dr. Raj answered, “Strangulation, appears to be the primary COD (cause of death). There were bruises on the front of the neck, heavier bruises on the back of the neck, and indications of a fractured hyoid bone. Therefore, this is a homicide. I suppose it's possible he was alive for a few minutes, while he was being dragged to the back of the freezer.”

  "Thanks, Doctor." Boone said, and Paisley added her thanks, too.

  “When the tests are run on the evidence collected," Dr. Raj continued, “we'll know COD conclusively, and I'll send my full and final report."

  He pulled off his latex gloves and deposited them into a container, saying, " My final report will also contain the results of the Toxicology and DNA tests."