Both men said good morning to Gert as they passed her desk. Inside Rissik’s office they found a pot of fresh coffee. Rissik poured for both of them, and then sat at his desk.
“Fair enough,” Hannibal said after tasting his coffee. It wasn’t gourmet in any way, just good, solid coffee. “Here’s what I think I know. Chameleon Boy, otherwise known as Dani Gana, was Boris Tolstaya’s courier. Tolstaya was coleader of an investment firm either run by or at the very least doing business with the Russian Mafiya. The firm might have been skimming from the clients, which is a bad idea if they were laundering mob money. Tolstaya was skimming from the firm, an even worse idea. Dani was skimming from Tolstaya, which, as it turns out, was even stupider. I think Tolstaya killed Dani for stealing.”
“That all makes sense, and gives us enough motive for us to get serious looking for Boris Tolstaya,” Rissik said. “And if he can be convinced to turn state’s evidence, we might even get to poke a hole in the Russian mob.”
“I’m glad I could make you so happy, Chief,” Hannibal said. “And nobody in uniform could have gotten that stuff. Now, about your news…”
“Oh yeah,” Rissik said, leaning back with his hands on the back of his head. “The murder weapons.”
“What about them?” Hannibal asked, annoyed that Rissik felt the need to be dramatic.
“Oh. You remember that the bullet that went through Mrs. Petrova was an unusual, small caliber? Well, the bullet that took Dani Gana out was the same. They found it in the vehicle. I had asked the Maryland boys for the report and when I read that, I got on the horn with them to let them know about Raisa’s case.”
“Got to be the same gun,” Hannibal said. “And I can see how Boris might have taken out Mrs. Petrova if she wouldn’t give up her daughter’s lover. But why the tiny gun?”
“I can see it if he’s really a gambler and businessman,” Rissik said. “Easy to conceal, right? And real quiet.”
Hannibal’s nod was more vigorous than usual because his cell phone was vibrating in his jacket pocket. He excused himself and pulled it out.
“Mr. Jones? It is Yakov Sidorov.”
“Yakov?” Hannibal looked up at Rissik. “What’s going on? Is Viktoriya OK?”
“Fine, fine,” Yakov said, “but I need to talk to you.”
Hannibal again looked at Rissik, who said, “Go ahead. We’re done here and I’ve got lots to do now, thanks to you.”
Hannibal smiled, nodded, and headed for his car.
“Yakov, what’s the problem?”
“Do you know a man named Krada? Jamal Krada?”
“Yeah, but how do you know him?” Hannibal asked as he walked across the parking lot.
“He called my cell phone, asking all sorts of questions about Dani Gana. He said he knew you.”
That brought Hannibal up short and he stopped beside his car. “What? How’d he get your number?”
“He said he got it from Gana, who was one of his students. He said he had lost contact with his student and wanted to know if I could put him in touch with him.”
“What did you tell him?” Hannibal asked, getting into his car and yanking the door shut.
“Nothing,” Yakov said. “I just said I did not know what he was talking about. This man I did not know and who was I to tell him his student had been killed?”
“You did the right thing,” Hannibal said, checking his watch. “I have to be in the District for lunch anyway. I think I’ll swing by Krada’s house and tell him in person.”
Krada didn’t look happy when he opened the door, but he also didn’t look as arrogant as he had before. Hannibal judged him to be a private man. He would not like too many people knowing his business, especially if one of them was a private investigator. He looked up at Hannibal like a boy who had been caught peeping in the girls’ dormitory window.
“So this Sidorov person felt the need to drag you into this,” Krada said.
“Actually, he said you mentioned my name to try to get him to talk to you,” Hannibal said. “So the truth is, you dragged me into this. And I’d like to know why you were so concerned.”
Krada offered a noncommittal grunt and walked back into the house. Hannibal followed him to the same seat he had occupied on his first visit. The house carried the faint lemon scent of furniture polish. Had the woman been up cleaning the house this early?
As he sat, Mrs. Krada floated into view wearing a caftan in muted colors and carrying a carafe of coffee. As she poured for the two men, Hannibal rose from his seat and said good morning. She did not respond verbally, but he saw color come to her cheeks as he sat back down. How did a woman come to be so unaccustomed to simple courtesy in twenty-first century America?
“So why were you so concerned?” Hannibal asked Krada as his wife faded into the background.
“Well, Gartee was always taking chances,” Krada said. “I have worried that he would attract too much attention and they’d find him.”
“That would explain his changing his name to Dani Gana,” Hannibal said, not asking whose attention Gana would not want to attract.
“Exactly,” Krada said, sipping his coffee. “He never understood how determined those feds could be.”
Hannibal nodded. “FBI,” he said, sipping and staring out the back door.
“Immigration,” Krada said, correcting him, and then raising his eyes in surprise. “Wait. You didn’t know, did you?”
“So he was in country illegally,” Hannibal said. “And he shared that knowledge with you, along with the phone number of one of the first friends he made in this country.”
“Yes, as have many of my students,” Krada said. His eyes seemed to soften somewhat, and he stared down into his cup. “Sometimes they have no one else to turn to, and they need a fatherly figure. I stay in touch with a few, as I did with Gartee.”
“Yes, I should have seen that right away,” Hannibal said. “It explains how he was able to toss off the answers to all of your quiz questions. You gave them to him before I got there. That was clever.”
“Was I wrong to try to help him keep his secrets?” Krada asked. “If so, I was not alone. Sidorov would tell me nothing. But you said you had some news to share.” He ended the sentence on an up note, like a question. His expectant expression made Hannibal’s next words more difficult to say.
“I’m afraid I don’t have good news. I’m sorry to tell you that Dani Gana, Gartee Roberts, is dead.”
“Dead?” Krada almost spilled his coffee putting the cup down. “How?”
“He appears to have made some enemies far worse than the INS,” Hannibal said. “I’m afraid he was murdered.”
Krada’s gaze returned to the inside of his cup. He seemed to need a few seconds to take the news in. Not knowing what to say next, Hannibal finished his coffee and waited.
“When I spoke to him last, Gartee was about to get married,” Krada said.
“Yes, they did marry,” Hannibal said. “In fact, I think you knew the girl. A Russian girl, Viktoriya Petrova.”
Krada’s eyes went up as if he was searching his memory. “Viktoriya? Yes, I think I may have met the girl back when Dani was still attending classes. This must be terribly hard on her. Is she all right?”
“She’s fine,” Hannibal said, “and safe and sound under Dr. Sidorov’s care.”
“Well I hope he can protect her,” Krada said, “in case whoever went after Gartee goes after her. Perhaps I can offer a safe haven.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Hannibal said, standing, “but I think I have a better idea of how to make sure she’s safe. And if I move right now, I’ll just about have time to take care of that chore before my lunch date.”
Hannibal shook Krada’s hand at the door and called good-bye to his wife just to see the annoyed look on his face. He was still smiling at his ability to get under Krada’s skin when he started the car and his phone rang at the same second.
“All right, Rissik, are you lonely or something? You can’t have learned anything about old Boris in the time since I left your office.”
“Nope, but one of yesterday’s pigeons has come home to roost.”
“News about Dani Gana?” Hannibal asked as he backed out of the driveway.
