I heard a scuffing in the alley and glanced over my shoulder to see Ana standing there, watching me. She must have thought that she’d thrown in with a mad man, the way I frothed and sobbed against that light post. I stood up, despite some objection from my shaky legs, and turned to face her.
I could see no readable expression on her face. I took that as a sign that she hadn’t changed her mind about leading me to Mikhail. I slid the bracelet into my pocket and headed toward the Durango, which was still half in and half out of the garage.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I was far from okay, but I nodded as I passed her, and she followed me to the car.
CHAPTER 34
Up North
By the time that I’m drilling my sixth hole, the clouds are almost gone from the sky. The line between low and high pressure systems is passing over our heads, and I can feel the temperature falling. It has to be well below zero now. Clear skies in Minnesota are the coldest skies. I ball my fingers into the palm of my shredded gloves to keep them warm. My fingertips touch against the tender skin and blisters on my palms. My pectoral muscles feel like they’re clamped in a steel-jaw trap. I’ve gone past hungry to numb. Every turn of the auger takes focus and effort. My left foot is screaming in pain, and my right foot isn’t too far behind. I try marching in place as I dig. I try hopping. Nothing seems to warm my feet. I can’t stop now. I’ve come too far.
“Someone’s been feeding you a pack of lies,” Mikhail says. “You’re being used.”
“Uh-hum,” I say.
Mikhail has to be cold, but he isn’t showing it. Maybe he thinks I’ll give up if I get too cold. If that’s what he thinks, he’s wrong.
“If I was doing all that,” Mikhail says, “if I was running prostitutes out of my club, there’d be a record. Someone would have noticed and I’d have been arrested. There’d be some proof other than your belief. But I’ve never been arrested. I have a clean record because I’ve never done those things.”
“You have a clean record because you’re smart. You know how to cover your tracks.”
“You’ll choose to believe what you want to believe. I’ll never be able to prove that I didn’t kill your wife as long as you want to believe that I did. You have nothing.”
“I have the words of Zoya Savvin.”
“Who the hell is Zoya Savvin?” I can hear a slight shake in Mikhail’s confidence. He pauses for a second to put this new piece in place before he continues. “I’ve never heard of her.”
“Sure you have. She used to work for you. She was one of your prostitutes.”
“Of course, she was.”
“She wore your tattoo. You branded her.” I tap on my neck just behind the ear. “Yes, Mikhail, I know all about the ruble tattoo. That’s your brand, isn’t it?”
“That’s sick! How can you—”
“That’s how you mark your girls.”
“I don’t have girls. If this Zoya is saying that I’m a pimp, then bring her here. Let her say it to me directly. Let me face my accuser.”
“Zoya’s gone.”
“I suppose I killed her too?”
“I didn’t say she was dead.” I pause in my drilling to look at Mikhail. In his eyes, I see trepidation. “But, yes,” I say. “You killed her too.”
“Why would I do that—if she was my prostitute?”
I lean on the auger. “My wife loved her job. She loved trying to help people like Zoya. The officers found Zoya wandering down the street in a daze. She’d been beaten and thrown through a motel window. Of course, you already know that.”
“I’ve never heard of the girl. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The girl,” I say slowly, letting his mistake sink in. “Not ‘the woman’?”
“It’s just an expression.”
“My wife wanted to help the girl. She wanted to protect Zoya from you, and you killed her for it.”
“And how, exactly, did I kill your wife? Knife? Gun? I’d really like to know how I did it.”
“Oh, you didn’t do it yourself. No, you ordered it done.” I start drilling again.
“You are sounding more and more like one of those crazy conspiracy theorists, Detective. Now I have lackeys and hitmen working for me? I must be a regular gangster.”
“Ray Kroll. You remember him.”
Mikhail pauses, pretending to give my question some consideration. “Yeah, I remember Ray. He used to be a bouncer at the club. He quit some years back. Too bad. He was a decent bouncer. So you think Ray killed your wife?”
“At your direction. He and Reece Whitton.”
“Reece Whitton? That name sounds familiar. I think he’s a customer at the club. Spent a lot of money there. He was a cop, wasn’t he?”
“‘Was’? Past tense?”
“I . . . it seems I heard a news story on the radio this morning. Something about a guy falling off the roof of a parking ramp. I’m pretty sure they said his name was Reece Whitton—a cop. You a friend of his?”
I just shake my head.
“I think the guy on the radio said that Mr. Whitton was dead.” Mikhail purses his lips, probably to keep from smiling. “So, let’s see if I have this right,” he says. “You’re going to execute me because you say that I ordered my former bouncer and a cop to kill your wife. And the evidence that you have for this is a prostitute, who is dead, my former bouncer, who is dead, and the cop who fell off a roof yesterday, and he’s also dead. Too bad the dead can’t testify.”
“Sometimes they can,” I say. “Before you killed my wife, she left a voice-mail message with an interpreter.” I watch as Mikhail’s face goes slack. “On that recording, the girl you killed, Zoya, names you. She says that you are going to kill her—and then you did just that.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I also have the blackmail CD Kroll made.”
“What blackmail CD? What are you talking about?”
“The one where Kroll and Whitton are planning my wife’s death. Kroll says your name: Mikhail Vetrov. I have the recording. I’ve heard it.”
“That’s a lie.” Mikhail raises his voice in anger. “That’s a goddamn lie, and you know it.”
“You know, Mikhail, you’re right. That was a lie,” I say. “They never actually said your name. Of course, you knew that, because you listened to the recording.”
“Okay, he played it for me,” Mikhail says. “Kroll was in trouble for beating some guy up and he wanted money for an attorney. He said that he was going to tell the police that I ordered some hit if I didn’t give him a hundred thousand dollars. I didn’t know what he was talking about. It was all a lie. I fired him on the spot. I didn’t know they were talking about your wife. I swear to God I didn’t.”
“God dammit!” I stop drilling and straighten up. “What are you doing?”
“What?”
“I’m giving you a chance here. You can’t keep lying to me. You’re hanging off a cliff, and instead of grabbing the rope I’m offering, you spit in my face.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Soon, you’re going to beg me for forgiveness. You’re going to want me to believe that you’re sorry for killing my wife. I can’t believe you if all you do is lie to me.”
“I’ll never ask for forgiveness for a crime I didn’t commit.”