to take this witness, not me. And I knew her well enough to know that she was going to do only what she wanted to do.
“What, Marie?” I said, walking away from Shauna.
“You have a phone call,” she said. “Someone named Sasha?”
I didn’t recognize the name.
“She said she was Lorenzo Fowler’s girlfriend,” Marie said. “And it’s urgent.”
53
I took the call in my office. “This is Jason Kolarich,” I said.
“Mr. Kolarich.” It was a woman’s voice, thick with an Eastern European accent. Russian or something like that. Mee-ster Kolareech.
“My name is Sasha Maldonov. Do you know who I am?”
I only knew what Marie had told me. “You knew Lorenzo Fowler.”
“Yes. I loved him. When he was… When they shot him, he’d come from my apartment.”
I didn’t know that. The police wouldn’t tell me what Lorenzo had been doing on West Arondale the night he was murdered.
“Go on,” I said.
“I am in danger. I know this. I cannot stay at my home. They think that Lorenzo told me things. Things I… should not know.” There was background traffic noise on her end of the phone. She was on a cell phone or a pay phone, if pay phones even exist anymore.
“Did he?” I asked, my pulse kicking up.
She paused. “Can you… protect me?”
“I’ll protect you,” I promised, which was a bit reckless of me. “Tell me what you know.”
“I know many things. Lorenzo knew I would not tell. He knew I would keep his secrets. But now…” Another, longer pause followed. Car horns honking.
“You’re afraid they want to kill you for the same reason they killed Lorenzo,” I gathered. “So the best thing for you to do is testify for me. Once it’s said publicly, there’s no reason to kill you.”
Clearly, she’d come to the same conclusion. “Can we meet?” she asked.
“Yes. Anytime,” I said. “Right away.”
Another pause. I had a moment of pause myself. I had to be sure this woman was legit. “Prove to me you’re who you say you are,” I said.
“Prove this to you? Lorenzo told you about me, no?”
“No,” I said.
“Ah. Well…”
“Why are you calling me?” I asked.
“Because Lorenzo went to you. He did not want to speak with the usual lawyers that he was given. He wanted someone who was not connected to the… family.”
That was true enough. “What did we discuss?”
“He told you… that he could provide the identity of someone. He wanted protection.”
“Whose identity?” I asked.
Another pause. “Not over… the phone,” she said.
I suppose I couldn’t blame her. And I didn’t want to push her too hard. I didn’t know where she was, and she could hang up this phone and disappear forever. It was a delicate dance, and I was getting desperate. She needed me, but I needed her more.
“Gin Rummy,” she said. “He told you he had proof.”
I closed my eyes. Lorenzo Fowler had said those very words to me-he had proof.
“Are you now satisfied?” she asked me.
“Tell me where you are,” I said eagerly. “I’ll leave right now.”
54
Traffic was light on my side of the commercial district, given the unofficial holiday of the day after Thanksgiving, plus it was just after four in the afternoon. The sun was close to setting, but among skyscrapers in the city, it was, for all practical purposes, nightfall already. I steered clear of the east and north sides, where the stores were presumably swollen with early Christmas shoppers. I didn’t like to think about Christmas. It reminded me too much of my wife and daughter.
I avoided the expressway on the western border of the commercial district and took side streets south. Sasha Maldonov wouldn’t tell me where she was staying, but she told me where she wanted to meet. She wanted a public place, she said, but not too obvious.
The street was zoned commercial, but the stores weren’t exactly bringing in the early shoppers. The city’s southwest side didn’t attract Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus and Macy’s. This street had consignment stores and payday loan services and convenience shops.
I pulled my SUV into the parking lot of the boarded-up restaurant on the southeast corner. There were no working lights, and by now the sun had set, so visibility was poor. To the east of this building was a big-and-tall store that also advertised secondhand clothing. Its neighbor to the south was another vacant building that used to be a shoe store, I think. But in between the two vacant buildings was an east-west alley.
And standing on the street, next to the alley, was a woman in a long black coat and baseball cap. Sasha Maldonov. Tall, attractive, long dark hair spilling out beneath the cap. She said she’d be in a dark coat and red baseball cap. I couldn’t make out the color of the cap in the dark, but there was no doubt we’d connected.
I nodded to her. She nodded in return and turned down the alley.
I approached the alley with caution. I looked down it before committing. The alley wasn’t a through-and- through; it dead-ended about a hundred feet down. There were garbage dumpsters along the right side and at the far wall. The lighting was poor, provided mainly by a streetlamp across the street. Sasha stood near a door that was part of the now-vacant restaurant. She gave me a curt wave, urging me to get away from the street and farther into the alley.
I kept my approach cautious. I had a tape recorder in my pocket. I didn’t have a gun. I didn’t make it a habit to carry it and lacked the permit to do so. I probably should have stopped home to get my weapon, but I hadn’t.
I passed the garbage dumpsters and got within maybe fifteen feet of her. She seemed apprehensive, and I didn’t want to rush anything.
“Mee-ster Kolareech,” she said to me in a thick accent, as I approached her. “I can be sure you were not followed?”
“I wasn’t followed,” I said, though I wasn’t sure of that fact at all. I raised my hands in a calming gesture. “Tell me how you want to do this.” I took another step toward her.
Then the door next to her burst open. A man stepped out, and Sasha-or whatever her name was-stepped inside, disappearing. Now it was me and this guy, who was wearing a leather jacket and a turtleneck.
And holding a Beretta in his right hand, aimed directly at me.
Then I heard noise behind me. Another guy, similar in look and build, had been hiding behind one of the dumpsters. He had a gun, too. He stepped out behind me. One in front of me, one behind me.
I did a double-take, then something registered with me. These were the two guys from Vic’s who were harassing Tori the night I first met her. The guy in front of me was the one I had clocked and sent to the ice outside.
“We meet again,” he said, giving me a wide smile.
It didn’t make sense. But this was no time for logic games. I had to assess and do it quickly. He was too far
