Boris smiled, making it clear that he did not miss the irony in Hannibal’s dry tone. “That is your reason for keeping my location to yourself. For myself, I prefer to keep my reputation intact until the end. Let them all think I am a killer. Renata can take care of me well enough between now and the end.”
“How nice for you. But doesn’t the Petrova girl deserve some justice?”
“Justice?” Boris breathed, and choked. “Really, Mr. Jones, what possible purpose could it serve for me to be in prison? Is it not sufficient that I am a prisoner of this chair?”
“Which brings me to the one remaining thing I don’t get,” Hannibal said. “Now that I know what she knows, I don’t understand why Queenie is still here. She loves you far more than you deserve.”
“You think so?” Boris turned his chair to face the back door more directly. “You have listened to my story, but not paid much attention to what you know about her. Renata believes that I know where the missing money is. And she believes me when I say that I will share that information with her just before I die.”
Hannibal looked back toward the door. “You didn’t kill Dani Gana. You never even found Dani Gana. You don’t have any idea where the money is, do you?”
Boris gave him a sly smile and turned his chair away from Hannibal and the house. Hannibal realized this sad, sick man was right about one thing. He was being well punished for whatever his crimes were during his life. It made him feel good to know that the random vagaries of fate didn’t just strike the innocent.
With his back to Hannibal, Boris said, “I wish you luck, Mr. Jones. If you locate the money, at least my Renata and the Petrova girl will be left in peace. Now, would you please ask my wife to bring out my lunch? I’d like to stay out here in the sun.”
“Lunch. Damn.” Hannibal checked his watch, cursed under his breath, and moved quickly toward the house.
Austin Camacho
Russian Roulette
31
Hannibal’s phone was calling Cindy’s office before he pulled into traffic. The ringing didn’t give him enough time to berate himself for letting the case push their lunch date out of his mind. He would have learned all the same information if he had arrived at Boris Tolstaya’s rented house two hours later. Viktoriya would have still been under Ivanovich’s watchful eye and the three victims would still be dead. But he would not have been calling Cindy more than an hour late.
When the phone clicked over to Cindy’s voicemail, Hannibal hung up and called the office general number. After three more rings, the receptionist answered. He pushed under a yellow light, his mind elsewhere.
“Hello, Mrs. Abrogast. It’s Hannibal.”
“Hello, Mr. Jones,” Abrogast said in her deceptively old-lady voice. “I’m afraid Ms. Santiago isn’t in this afternoon. And I must tell you, she was not happy with you when she left here, young man.”
“My fault,” Hannibal admitted. “What did she say, Mrs. Abrogast?”
“Oh, something about being stood up, I believe. She remarked that she had canceled a lunch meeting with that nice real estate fellow to go with you instead.”
“Really? Well, I sure feel bad about that,” Hannibal said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes, well I don’t think it will be a big problem,” she said. “She’ll meet him for dinner instead. At Bobby Van’s, I believe. Nice place. Would you like to leave a message?”
“A message? No thank you, ma’am. Have a nice afternoon.”
As he cut the connection he felt cold inside. A message? What message could he possibly leave? Mrs. Abrogast was right. Bobby Van’s was not his idea of casual dining. It was expensive and classy, and well known for its top-notch prime rib. For a moment he considered hunting her down at court or wherever she was, but knew that would be close to impossible. Besides, if she was working, she would not appreciate his interruption. And besides all that, he was working too, damn it. He was on a case.
Or was he? No one was paying him to find the murderers or to protect the orphaned survivor. In fact, who knew how much paying work had passed him by while he was chasing Russian ghosts. Worse, this pro bono pursuit of answers no one else wanted was costing him the closeness he deserved to have with his woman. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt obligated to share what he learned from the Tolstayas with Aleksandr Ivanovich. After that, he decided, it was time to return to his own life. Right then, he defined his own life as Cindy Santiago.
The drive back to Viktoriya’s motel was uneventful despite the bank of dark clouds that slid across the sky to park overhead. Hannibal pulled between white lines among the very few cars in the motel lot and strolled to the building, scanning his environment as he climbed the exposed stairs. He didn’t see Ivanovich during his long trip between his car and the door, but he was certain that Invanovich had seen him. A sharp breeze sliced through his suit jacket as he stood on the landing. He gave the door a couple light taps when he reached it.
Dr. Sidorov opened the door just enough for Hannibal to enter and closed it without locking it. Viktoriya handed Hannibal a mug of tea poured from the little coffee pot they had moved from the bathroom to the round table. Her dark eyes were still a little drowsy, as if they had not yet pushed all the way out from under the sedative. Having never seen her calm and relaxed, Hannibal looked at her as if for the first time.
Her skin wasn’t simply fair. Her face glowed like that of a china doll. It cut a sharp contrast with the eyes that looked almost too big for her face and the rolling waves of hair like a black storm at sea. Her smile was inviting to be sure, but he wasn’t certain if it meant to suck him in or chew him up.
“So tell me,” she said, perching on the edge of the bed, “did you learn anything of value from Mr. Tolstaya?” Her voice was as soft as he remembered, but he had not noted that husky undertone before.
“Yes, tell us,” Ivanovich said. Hannibal snapped around to find him just inside the door. He had slipped inside, unnoticed. He was very quiet of course, but Hannibal knew there was another reason he did not feel Ivanovich’s entrance. For a brief moment, he had fallen under the same spell that held Ivanovich in thrall and, from all appearances, had called Dani Gana back from his African home. He sipped his strong tea while he took time to gather his thoughts.
“Well, I think I know the truth about Viktoriya’s father,” Hannibal said. He stood in the corner beside the door. Ivanovich sat on the nearer bed. Sidorov settled into a chair at the round table. With the audience assembled, Hannibal figured he’d better just get on with it. “Boris Tolstaya admitted to me that he and Nikita argued about the money he owed. The argument became violent.”
“No,” Viktoriya said. “Uncle Boris wouldn’t kill Father.”
“Not on purpose,” Hannibal said. “I think he just got carried away, and your father was weaker and sicker than anyone knew.”
Viktoriya clouded up, and buried her face in her hands. Ivanovich stood to get closer, but stopped short of putting an arm around her. After watching her body shake with soft sobs for a moment, he turned back to Hannibal.
“So this was all about money after all?”
“Maybe,” Hannibal said. “I think there may have been another factor. Boris’s wife seemed to think he wanted Viktoriya for himself, and was going to take off with her to Africa or someplace. Of course, if that was true, why would he introduce her to Dani?”
“He didn’t.”
Viktoriya raised her face when she spoke. Sidorov produced a handkerchief, which she accepted with a smile. Sidorov and Ivanovich looked at her the way the Tarleton twins watched Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind.
“You didn’t meet Dani through Boris?” Hannibal asked.
“Oh no,” Viktoriya said. “I met him in college. Actually, Professor Krada introduced us at one of his parties, and we dated for a while at Howard, but we kept it sort of quiet. It can be hard for a boy dating a white girl there.”
Hannibal’s eyes flashed to Ivanovich, then back to Viktoriya. “My mistake. I knew you went to parties with him at the college while he was a student, but I thought you met him after you yourself left school. You’ve really known this man longer than I thought you had. You didn’t drop out because of meeting him at the Russia House, did
