killings on me. You have to prove, and you can’t.”
Cardinal put his notebook and papers aside and leaned across the table. “Two questions for you, Yevgeny. One, why didn’t you come to the police when your sister disappeared? We couldn’t even find you as next of kin. And two, why are you still here nearly two weeks later?”
“I want to find out what happened. This is so strange?”
“And yet you never showed up to help our investigation, or to ask a single question.”
“As if you know answers. Lev was not perfect business guy, okay? Is good chance they were killed by mafiya. You think he didn’t have dealings with mafiya? He did. How much, I wouldn’t know. They kill whole families, mafiya-I don’t want to go back to Brooklyn, find some fucking vor in my apartment. Okay?”
“So for safety’s sake, you hang around in the place where your sister was murdered.”
Divyris shrugged. “Is true. You think I would stay here if I killed them? Waiting for you and your handcuffs? I am not rich, maybe, but I have business too. I have to make a living. I’ve been talking to people, setting up deals. You can check.”
Cardinal pulled out a sheaf of papers he had printed out and placed it on the table. “E-mails,” he said. He pulled out another sheaf of papers and placed it beside the other. “Translations.” They were actually Google translations and perfectly hilarious, but close enough that Cardinal could fake it.
Divyris said something in Russian or Ukrainian. When Cardinal didn’t reply, he said something else.
Cardinal improvised from the top translation. “‘Don’t imagine I will forget. I will never forget. Your loving husband made promises and you will make him keep them, Irena, or it will be trouble for you.’”
“Fuck you.”
Cardinal read from another one. “‘Always the same story. Always these lies. Make him do right, or I will make him myself.’”
“And you wonder why I don’t phone police. I am angry, okay? Lev owes me, okay? Bastard has everything. He owns world and all little tiny worlds that make up big world. And me he can’t give decent living? His sister’s brother? Treats me like dog? Worse than dog.”
Cardinal got up and went to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Mendelsohn and McLeod were in the next room, watching through the one-way glass. Mendelsohn put down the phone. “Manager confirms he ordered Spitfire Pussy and ran it from 11:30 to 1:30 a.m.”
“Thank you, Maestro,” McLeod said, “but that doesn’t mean he watched it.”
Cardinal handed McLeod the sheaf of bogus forms. “Get a list of his so-called business contacts and check them out. I want to know what he’s been doing for the past two weeks.”
“Absolutely,” McLeod said. “I also plan to watch Spitfire Pussy from beginning to end. Don’t thank me, it’s just my duty as an officer of the law.”
30
Cardinal had no doubt that Divyris-despite his alleged fear of the Russian underworld-would flee the country if he could. When McLeod finished with him, he was booked on the fraud charge and installed in a cell. By the time that was done, the day was pretty much over.
Cardinal and Mendelsohn were heading out to dinner, to Morgan’s Chop House.
“Oh, hey-old-style chophouse with the red check tablecloths and all that? Sounds like my kind of place,” Mendelsohn said. “Sounds like my ideal.”
“So let’s go there and we can toss ideas around.”
“Excellent. I could eat an entire cow.” He opened the door to his bright red rented Alero. “Oh, wait-sorry, I forgot my galoshes. Hang on a second and I’ll follow you in my car.”
Mendelsohn went back inside and Cardinal crossed the parking lot and got into his Camry. He backed out of his space just as Donna Vaughan was pulling into the lot. They rolled down their respective windows.
“Is there any chance I can take a few minutes of your time?”
“I’m just heading out to a working dinner with a visitor, I’m afraid.
“Is that him?” Donna pointed to Mendelsohn, who was coming out the side door of the station, now wearing his galoshes and fur hat.
“That’s him. FBI.”
“Seriously? He doesn’t look nearly slick enough.”
“Is it urgent? I can postpone dinner half an hour.”
“No, that’s all right.” Her grey eyes were cool, in contrast to her voice. “To tell you the truth, I just wanted to see you. I’ve been thinking about last night.”
“Why don’t you come round later?”
“I really shouldn’t. I’ve got to organize all my notes into some usable form, and a friend just FedExed me a fat trial transcript to read.”
“Come over when you’re done.”
“Really? I mean, I’d love to, but-”
“Good. I’ll see you later.”
–
“Oh, this is nice,” Mendelsohn said. He looked around over the top of his menu. “Stained glass lamps, waitresses in uniforms, I like this. What more could a man want?”
They ordered salads to start, even though Cardinal warned him they would be strictly iceberg lettuce.
“I’m old enough to remember when we just called it lettuce. It was all iceberg lettuce. Pour some of that Kraft ranch-style on it? Can’t be beat.”
Mendelsohn had delicate table manners, dabbing at his mouth often with his napkin. Cardinal asked about his colleagues (wonderful characters, good men), and his boss (not a bastard, but not exactly effervescent).
“Tell me about this McLeod,” Mendelsohn said. “I get the impression he’s maybe not quite the loose cannon he seems.”
“McLeod is a solid investigator. Also reliable in court, keeps his facts straight.”
“Oh, in court. I imagine he has a pretty good delivery. And this Delorme. Now there’s an attractive woman, and I don’t mean just pretty.”
“Sergeant Delorme has no idea how attractive she is.”
“Which is part of the attraction.” Mendelsohn pointed a fork at his food. “Good pork chop. Most places dry them out, but this is just right. By the way, database came back negative on the Bastovs for Russian mob.”
“You wouldn’t necessarily know if they’d merely been threatened by the mob, though, would you? Most people are going to be too scared to tell anyone, right?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t rule it out. But I checked with NYPD as well-they’re the real experts. Lev Bastov has met one or two connected people in Brooklyn, but not in a way that raised flags. They got a don down there with interests in the fashion business, which gets you to furs pretty quick.”
They talked about Yevgeny Divyris. Neither of them thought he was guilty of murdering his sister and her husband. Whether he hired someone else to do it, however, was still an open question, at least to Cardinal. Mendelsohn was skeptical even of that.
“He has the motive,” Cardinal said. “And he’s got a nasty edge to him.”
“Hundred percent. I agree with you. But I’m coming at this from an entirely different angle. And here…” Mendelsohn paused, fork in midair. The expression on his face was as if he were straining to hear a faint melody. “And here, I don’t know. There’s other stuff I should tell you.”
“So tell me.”
Mendelsohn winced. “I feel awkward. It isn’t that I didn’t trust you. It’s just-especially in the Bureau-you learn to keep things close to your chest. We’ve been burned by other agencies, other departments, and the DOJ itself, come to that. Don’t even talk to me about the CIA. So, we’re not real good about sharing information.”
“It’s pretty much like that between us and the RCMP.”
“Oh, good. I mean not good, but good you understand-now I don’t feel so selfish, so ungrateful.” Mendelsohn dug into his meal with renewed gusto. The snap peas were downright refreshing.
