Night of Knives - The First in a Series of Articles About the Unsolved Murder of a Woman.
She was a woman in her forties. A woman to whom life had not been at all kind. Neighbors remember her as being slight and extremely pretty. What stood out most, though, was her kindness. She was willing to help anybody, and she regularly looked after some of the older women in the street. The street she lived on was just like most of the other residential streets in St. Petersburg: full of apartment buildings and play areas. It was a close-knit neighborhood where people knew each other and took an interest in each other.
You could be forgiven for thinking that the woman in question worked in a local factory or shop, but you would be wrong. Illona Kuklov was a prostitute. On the night of January 13, 1985, it was bitterly cold, and she had just let her last client of the day out of her apartment. Somewhere around ten p.m., there was a scream. It was a scream that makes those I have interviewed about the incident still have sleepless nights.
When neighbors rushed into her apartment, they found Illona struggling for breath in a pool of her own blood. She had been repeatedly stabbed, and the weapon was still poking from her chest. Illona's murder has remained unsolved, but it shouldn't be. There is more than enough evidence to bring the murderer to trail. Several witnesses, a murder weapon, and a shirt are all pieces of vital evidence that have been ignored by investigators.
This newspaper has uncovered the truth about this gruesome murder, and we are able to reveal that the chief suspect in the murder is Stanislav Kuklov, Illona's son. He is better known today as the Russian Ambassador to the United States of America.
Follow each day this week as we exclusively reveal how this man has avoided arrest for so many years and what can now be done to bring him to trial.
Slava put down his phone and smiled to himself as his plane took off for New York.
*****
“But how do I hold her?” Slava said as he looked at the tiny bundle in his arms.
“Oh, I can see you've got a lot to learn,” Octavia said as she walked up the gangplank on Serene. “Bottle feeding and diaper changes—you can learn the lot.”
“Octavia, come here please,” he said. As he put his arm around her, he kissed her. “You have made me so a happy, I can't tell you. She is so beautiful. I'm afraid I will never be able to give her away to another man like your father did on our wedding day.”
“You will if he's as good a man as you,” Octavia said.
Later that day, Slava received a text message from Igor.
“Judge says he's an animal. Gave him thirty-five years.”
*****
THE END
BWWM MAFIA Romance - The Russian’s Love Child: Nicki’s Story
The plane from Moscow to JFK was three hours late due to heavy snow in Russia. Nicki had tried to call Nathan from Moscow but hadn't managed to get a hold of him. She just hoped he'd waited for her. If not, she'd have to get a taxi, and she only had a purse full of worthless rubels.
When she'd cleared US customs and reclaimed her bag, she walked out into the arrivals lounge. There were a lot of people waiting to pick up family and friends. She didn’t see Nathan. Whenever he'd picked her up at the airport before, he'd stood where he could see her. Today he wasn't in the usual place. She walked off to the side, put her heavy bag on the floor, and reached inside her jacket for her cell phone. She let it ring a few times. No reply. Darn it. Not only would she have to get a taxi, but she also would miss the opportunity to talk to him.
“Nicki, over here,” Nathan shouted. “I tracked the flight on the net and saw the delay, so I only set off when they gave a landing time. I didn't realize the traffic would be so bad. Sorry.”
That was Nathan, she thought, always apologizing for something that wasn't his fault. “Hello,” she said as he hugged her. She couldn’t let him hold her for too long; it would be unfair.
“Let me have a look at you,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “Still the same beautiful Nicki: perfectly dressed and not a hair out of place, even after such a long flight.”
“And you've lost weight. Have you been eating properly?”
“How can a man eat properly when he is lovesick?” he said as he picked up her bag. “Jesus, what have you got in here, a real elephant?”
“Just a few small ones to add to my collection.”
“I've never understood why you collect elephants,” he admitted as they walked toward the parking lot.