Authors: Libby Fischer Hellmann
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #General, #Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths
“And the girls?”
“Not sure. They’ll check their immigration status, probably try to send a few into rehab, but for the most part, they’re on their own.”
“But couldn’t they end up—back on their backs, so to speak?”
“I guess they could. But Vlad won’t be controlling the operation. He’s out. He lost face. His ‘associates’ will be moving on.”
“Still doesn’t make me feel real secure.”
“Look, Ellie. Even if we found him and brought him to justice, he could get off. You know how it goes. Witnesses don’t show up. Evidence conveniently gets lost. In a way, you’re probably safer with him on the run. He’s probably back in the Caymans by now, anyway. Maybe even Russia.” She swigged down more beer. “And our pals at the Bureau say they’ll be on the lookout for him. Who knows? Maybe they’ll even find him.”
My wound started to throb. I put my beer down and slid my fingers lightly over the bandage. “Tell me something.”
“What’s that?”
“If Vlad was powerful enough to do everything he did—and get away with it—then what the hell did we accomplish?”
She didn’t answer for a minute. Then, “We got Gordon. We shut down a sex prison. It’s a start.”
“A start.”
“It was a huge network. Two continents, five countries, god knows how many people.”
“Greed knows no borders.” I picked up my beer. We were quiet. Then, “Why did she do it?” I asked.
“Why did who do what?”
“Mika. Why did she blow it all wide open? That took tremendous courage.”
“When you don’t have anything, you’re not afraid of it being taken away.”
Davis looked over with an expression that told me not to follow up. I took a sip of beer. There was another spate of silence. “So, what do you think’ll happen to Gordon Towers? Think it’ll get built?”
Davis shrugged. “They always do.”
“I guess you’re right. A consortium of developers will probably jump in.” I laughed. “And I’ll just bet Ricki Feldman will be one of them.”
Davis started. “Who?”
“Ricki Feldman. The woman who hired me to shoot the ground-breaking video. And tipped me about Gordon.”
“Stuart Feldman’s daughter?”
I frowned. “Why? You know her?”
She didn’t answer for a minute, but the color drained from her face. Then she said, “I—I was on the force when her father got into trouble.”
“Then you probably know she’s been trying to rebuild her reputation. Except that the woman has never done anything uncalculated in her life. Which makes me wonder why she told me Gordon was asking questions. Was she doing a
mitzvah
—a good deed—or a self-serving act? You never know with people like her.”
Davis kept her mouth shut. Her eyes were pools of blue reflecting glass. I knew there was more to it, but whatever history they shared was going to stay off the record. I changed the subject. “So, Davis, what did Olson say? Do I start calling you Detective Davis?”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“What do you mean? You did a great job.”
She tossed back her beer and looked for a place to pitch it. I opened the cabinet under the sink. After she pitched it in the trash, she turned to me with a wry expression. “When we were doing a post mortem, I told Olson what happened at Celestial Bodies. With the gun.”
“The gun you ‘found’ in the bathroom?” She nodded. “Why?”
“The lying.” She shrugged. “It was bothering me. Olson gave me a pat on the back. Told me what a good job I’d done. How proud of me he was. Then he suspended me.”
“He what?”
“I falsified a report.”
“But you solved the case.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s a major violation.”
“You did it to protect me. The bouncer would have killed me—maybe, you too—if you’d given him back the gun.”
She shrugged. “We don’t know that.”
“Come on, Davis. You know what would have happened. Look. Olson wasn’t there. Why don’t I call him and—”
“Ellie, forget it. There was also the fact that I used my own car to stake out DM Maids instead of an unmarked. And I had you with me in the first place. None of that’s in the cop handbook.”
I heard the finality in her voice. “So, wh—what are you going to do?”
“Take some time off. Travel. Maybe go down to Georgia.” Another shrug. “Maybe I’ll find something I like doing better than this.”
That was a lie. Davis was a good cop. She’d be back.
I threw my beer into the trash. “Well, good luck.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “You know, I didn’t think I’d like you when this started. But I do. Take care of yourself.”
“I like you too.”
She started for the door.
“One last thing,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Who tells the family? Arin’s, I mean? Mika said she’s got a son.”
“Officially, I’m not sure. One of the guys on the force speaks Russian. I thought I’d track them down and give them a call.”
I thought about Arin’s son, whoever he might be. Jordan’s foster kids. David. Even Davis herself. “And one more child grows up without a mother,” I said quietly.
Rays of bright sun glinted off the windshield, hinting at long summer days to come. I opened the door of Susan’s car and slid out.
“Thanks for lunch.”
“It’s the least I could do.” She motioned to my head. “You came close this time.”
“Thank god for Davis.” I curled my fingers on the door handle. “I can’t believe they suspended her. She was doing what she thought was right.”
“No, she wasn’t, Ellie. She lied. Compromised her colleagues’ trust.”
“She saved my life.”
“She’s young. She’ll survive. Maybe even learn from it.”
I took my hands off the window. “It’s strange, you know. The ones who were already rich—Gordon, Vlad, Ricki Feldman… hell, even Brigitte…they were the greedy ones. But the ones who had nothing—Mika, Petrovsky, Arin…they tried to look out for each other. Somehow, it doesn’t seem fair.”
Susan didn’t reply.
“And then there’s Jordan Bennett.”
“What about him?”
“I wonder what will happen to him now.”
“Jordan sounds like a man with resources. He’ll probably run for President.”
“He’s too good for that.”
Susan smiled. “Speaking of the witch, what have you heard from David?”
“Not a word.”
Her smile faded.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”
“Okay. So what’s Barry up to?”
“He reverted to type. Has a new girlfriend, Rachel says. Some blonde bombshell with young kids. Julia something.”
“Not Julia Hauldren.…”
“I think that’s her name.”
“God, Ellie. She lives around the corner from you.”
“No!”
“Yes. Right off Happ Road. Her kids go the same school as Rachel.”
“What?”
“They’re younger, of course. First and second grade.”
“Oh great. Just what I need! Can’t wait to run into them at the next concert. Or bake sale.”
Susan pulled down the cuffs of her silk blouse. “Life is full of burdens, but you will bear them.”
“You sound like Fouad.” I spotted a crocus, its little purple stalk cheerfully struggling against the snow. He would be back soon. I smiled.
***
I was puttering around the kitchen, getting ready to pick up Dad for dinner when the phone rang.
“Hello, Ellie.”
My stomach flipped. “Hello, David.”
“How—how are you?”
“I’m good. What about you?”
“This—this is the hardest call I’ve ever made.”
I steeled myself. “Why?”
“I made a huge mistake, Ellie, and I wonder—”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. “A mistake?”
“You were right. Brigitte took off right after we signed the papers.”
“Oh,” I said softly.
“We could void the sale. Keep the shop. But Willie doesn’t want to. He—he’s going to stay here and get treatment. The doctors are confident they can help.”
“That’s good news. But are you sure about the shop? She took you for—”
“It’s obvious she wanted—or needed it more than we do. And—” He paused. “It’s only money.”
Only money. I know about “only money.”
“Ellie, I have a lot to do. Getting Willie settled. Coming to terms with myself. Working things through. But I want to ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Will you—well, do you think you could ever forgive me?”
I started to walk with the phone. “Forgive you?”
“I know I hurt you. Terribly. And not only you. Your father, Rachel, I let them down, too. I let myself down. I don’t know how it happened. It was as if I—”
“Was under a spell?”
“Something like that.” He cleared his throat.
I walked to the window and stopped. Assuming I could forgive him, even put it behind me, David and I were fundamentally different people, with different ways of thinking and behaving. We hadn’t done such a good job accommodating each other in the past. Indeed, if I were being honest with myself, that was one of the reasons that had driven him into Brigitte’s arms.
But maybe we weren’t trying hard enough. Or maybe we were making too much of those differences. Maybe they were just separate sides of the same issue. I thought about the way I felt in his arms. Safe. Content. At peace. The way his eyes sparkled when we were together. Didn’t we deserve the chance to try together—just one more time? I felt my heart tugging to be with him even now.
Then I remembered how I felt at the airport in Philadelphia. I couldn’t go through another betrayal. Not again.
“I—I don’t know, David. I’m going to need to think about it.”
He was silent. Then he made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. “Well, at least it’s not a definite no.”
“No. But it’s not a yes, either.”
“I understand.”
More silence.
“I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”
“Okay.”
I hung up. A lot could happen in a few days. I gazed out the window. Out on Happ Road, a truck thundered by, its clatter arcing and then fading away. A dog barked. The sun was just sneaking down past the tops of the bare trees. Almost six, and it was still light. I grabbed my coat and went outside to look for signs of spring.
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