Bum Rap Page 10
“Are you dressed?”
“It’s four in the morning! I’m in my Victoria’s Secrets.”
“Make that ten minutes.”
“C’mon, Jake. What’s happened?”
“I need a woman.”
“Go home!”
“No, not for that. Well, for that, too. But I need help with one of the B-girls, and you’ve got that feminine thing.”
“What thing?”
“You know. That empathy shit.”
“And you have such a way with words.”
“Elena. That’s the B-girl. She doesn’t entirely trust me, so we’ll tag team her. Good cop, bad cop. You’re the good cop, by the way.”
“No kidding.”
“Okay, I’m almost at the I-95 flyover, and I’m cruising. I love the night, don’t you?”
“I can’t wait to hear about yours.”
“Gotta warn you, I don’t look tip-top.”
“Why? What happened?”
“When I broke this guy’s nose, his blood spurted all over my suit. Shirt, too. My shoulder’s throbbing, both forearms ache, my knuckles are flaring up, and I might have tweaked an ankle rolling down a set of stairs.”
“Oh, Jesus. Should you go to the hospital?”
“No way! I never felt better. I can sense it when a case turns, Victoria. I can feel it. The blood pumps a little faster and there’s a buzz in the air.”
Must have been a hell of a night, she thought. Something had lit a fire under Lassiter. She remembered their first phone call when he was drowning in angst about all the injustice and all the losing. Now, at four o’clock in the morning, he was invigorated.
“Gotta get dressed now, Jake.”
“Say, that Victoria’s Secret you’re wearing. We talking a baby doll or teddy, maybe something see-through?”
“I’ll have coffee brewing, Jake.”
-21-
Saint Vladimir
When I headed south on I-95, I could no longer see the gray Range Rover in the rearview mirror, so I put it out of my mind. A few minutes later, Victoria met me at the front door of her house—the Solomon-Lord house—a cup of black coffee in her hand. She was wearing jeans, rope sandals, and a denim shirt tied at the waist, exposing just a flash of bare, flat midriff.
She took one look at me and nearly fainted. “Oh, my God, Jake.”
“You ought to see the other guy. Three guys, actually. Plus two women, which explains the scratches on my face.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”
“Honestly, it’s no worse than playing the Oakland Raiders. They used to bite and claw a lot. Spit, too.”
She looked at me with concern. “You should never wear your best trousers when you go out to fight for freedom and truth.”
“Huh?”
“Ibsen. An Enemy of the People.”
“Right.”
“You don’t know much about theater, do you?”
“Not true. At Penn State, I played Big Jule in a student production of Guys and Dolls.”
“The large, dim-witted gangster?”
“They needed someone who could lift Nathan Detroit off the stage with one hand.” I lowered my voice into my big-oaf baritone. “I used to be bad when I was a kid, but since then, I’ve gone straight. Thirty-three arrests and no convictions.”
I took a slug of the coffee, and Victoria said, “Now tell me about your night.”
I gave Victoria a quick summary, making myself sound more heroic and less clumsy than I had actually been. I told her that “Benny” and “the jeweler” were the same guy, but I still didn’t know what that meant or his connection to the shooting. Basically, we needed Elena to answer our questions. Especially the big one: where’s Nadia?
Ten minutes later, we were cruising north on an empty LeJeune Road. I turned down the volume on the country station, quieting Johnny Cash, who was claiming he walked the line. A left turn on Flagler Street, then a quick right turn on Forty-Sixth Avenue and we were there. Saint Vladimir Russian Orthodox Church. We parked the Eldo, then walked underneath a wooden archway with three blue onion domes on top. The church was a modest one-story building with six golden crosses on a pair of red wooden doors topped by a stained glass window. I tried one of the doors. Open.
Inside, in the dim light, a single woman kneeled in front of a pew. Elena still had on her electric-blue minidress, and her blonde hair was a rat’s nest. Victoria and I walked in quietly and sat in a pew directly across the aisle from her. Elena cast a quick glance our way, then continued praying. Maybe she was praying for Nadia, maybe she was asking forgiveness for stealing my watch, or maybe she had just lured us here so Alex Gorev could leap out of the shadows and chop us to ribbons with an AK-47.
After a moment, Elena crossed herself three times, slid gracefully onto the pew, and turned toward us. “Saint Vladimir was the first Christian ruler of Russia. Did you know that?”
I allowed as how I did not.
“A thousand years ago. Before then, all pagans. Now . . . pagans again.” She looked at Victoria. “Who is the woman?”
“I’m Victoria Lord. Steve Solomon, the man accused of killing Nicolai Gorev, is my partner. Law partner and life partner.”
I didn’t care for that “life partner” bit. “Boyfriend” would have been better, but I didn’t have a vote on the matter.
Elena turned to me. “You told Alex you were lawyer for Solomon.”
“It’s true.”
“He looked you up after you left with the police. Jake Lassiter.”
I nodded.
“He would like to kill you. And Nadia.”
“That’s why we’re here. To help her.”
“No, you are here to help Solomon.”
“We can do both,” Victoria said.
“Elena, we all know the trouble Nadia is in,” I said. “Alex Gorev isn’t the only one after her. So are the feds. She blew up their investigation of his brother, and they’d like to bury her so deep in a federal prison, she won’t see the light of day, much less a courtroom where she can talk.”
I wasn’t at all sure that’s what the feds would do, but it sounded pretty threatening.
“Can they do that, in this land of the free?”
“These days, they can do pretty much anything. Someone in the Justice Department screwed the pooch and they gotta keep it quiet.”
“Someone had sex with a dog?”
“In a manner of speaking. The way I figure it, they offered Nadia immunity for whatever they had on her. But she’s blown the deal and fled, so she still has the federal charges. Plus the state of Florida is looking for her as a material witness in the Gorev shooting and who knows for what else? Then there’s the grand larceny charge on Miami Beach for stealing a watch, which I take it is sort of a hobby with you girls.”
“Yours was big fake! I checked it.”
“Sorry.”
“Makes me think you are big fake, too.”
“Finally, we’ve got Benny the Jeweler,” I said, testing the waters.
“What about him?”
“What’s his last name?”
She shrugged her bare shoulders. “Only Benny the Jeweler. He shows up once in a while at the club, pinches the girls, and goes into Nicolai’s office to talk business. Or he did. I haven’t seen him since the shooting.”
“Benny has hired some half-assed investigator to find Nadia,” I said. “The guy tried to bribe me into giving her up. I’m pretty sure Benny wants to do her harm.”
Elena shook her head, her blonde mess of hair untangling. Looking at Victoria, she said, “Your friend is a good fighter but very stupid.”
“Like so many men,” Victoria said.
“Da! Exactly.” Elena slid to the end of the pew and extended an arm, showing off the lacquered fingernails of her left hand. She had rings on every finger except her thumb. She wiggled her pinky and said, “This one.”
Victoria smiled. “It’s real. A princess-cut diamond. I’d say about three carat
s, maybe more.”
“Three point five! From Benny, who taught me the four Cs. Carat. Clarity. Color. Cut. Very fine diamond. Nearly flawless. He gave one to Nadia that’s even larger. She wears as pendant.”
“Do all the girls get a diamond from Benny?”
“All the girls get one. But the girls Benny really likes get the best ones,” Elena said proudly.
“Why?” I asked. “Why the expensive presents for everybody?”
“You don’t know, do you, lawyer?”
“How would I?”
“How do you intend to protect Nadia? You think Benny wants to harm her? He loves her. Not man–woman love. But like a father.”
This wasn’t going well. I had lost control of the conversation and the situation. “Look, Elena, I may not know all the details, but I know Nadia is in trouble. You know where she is. If anything happens to her, that’s on you. Her blood will be on your hands.”
Elena’s eyes went cold, and her angelic features hardened. I had gone too far. She turned toward Victoria. “How do you work with such a man? He is, what is the word? Rude?”
“And boorish,” Victoria agreed.
“Da. Very good sound. Boor-ish. I will use it with the bouncer who always grabs my tits. ‘Sergei, you are rude and boor-ish.’ ”
They both laughed. Either at me or Sergei, or both.
“Lawyer, go have smoke. Me and Victoria talk.”
I shrugged, got up, and walked out the big red doors. I have enough bad habits, but smoking isn’t one of them. I sat down on a bench in the church courtyard and waited, glad I had brought Victoria along.
-22-
The Women Talk
The two women sat in the church pew, talking. Victoria realized that the atmosphere had become more relaxed as soon as Lassiter left. At least he’d had the good sense to bring her along.
“You are very pretty,” Elena said.
“Thank you.”
“You could be Bar girl. Small on top, but push-up bra would fix that.”
Victoria tried out her Russian. “Spasibo.”
“But you are too smart for B-girl.”
“I was lucky to get an education.”
“Me? Not so lucky. I worked in strip club in Riga when I was seventeen. You know Riga?”
“Latvia.”
“Then Tallinn in Estonia. But no money there. So I went to Luxembourg.”
“Really?”
“Lots of money in Luxembourg. That’s when the Gorevs went from strip clubs to champagne clubs and I became B-girl.”
“So you’ve worked for the Gorevs a long time.”
“Since I was kid. I have been around more than Nadia. She is like child in many ways. That is why she is in trouble. And you?”
“College. Law school. I was a prosecutor for a while. I had a case against Steve that got me fired. And it brought us together.”
“Do you love him?”
Victoria smiled, thinking about the complicated man she was crazy about. “On the surface, we have little in common. It’s hard to explain, our dynamic. He drives me nuts. But life is better with him than without. And, yes, I love him.”
“When I first saw you a few minutes ago, I thought you were with Lassiter.”
“Only professionally.”
“But he would like more.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“I know men, more than you, lady lawyer. He has it for you.”
Victoria shook her head. This was not a discussion she intended to have. At the same time, she wanted to talk freely with Elena and gain her trust. After all, that’s why she was here.
“In his eyes, I can see it,” Elena said. “He hurts for you.”
“I really don’t think so.”
“Does not matter. You love someone else. Which also explains Nadia.”
“How?”
“Everything she has done. The trouble she is in. Is for a man. Poor, sweet Nadia is in love.”
“Really?”
“True love. She wants to marry the man and start over with clean life.”
Victoria measured her words. “I’m not sure that’s possible unless she tidies up the mess she’s left behind.”
“If you have plan for this tidy up, I will tell Nadia and see what she says.”
-23-
Code Yellow
So, Victoria, you saying Nadia fell for a customer?” I said. “Won’t they toss her out of the B-girls’ union for that?”
Victoria nibbled at a croissant. Two hundred sixty calories and nine grams of saturated fat, according to the little card. Starbucks on Calle Ocho. It seemed like a crime. We should be at Versailles, the iconic Cuban restaurant with the French name and succulent pastelitos de guayaba. But it was only 6:15 a.m., and Versailles opens at eight o’clock.
“Nadia wanted to leave the club to be with her new boyfriend, but Gorev wouldn’t let her. He’d kept her passport and withheld a portion of her wages. Claimed she couldn’t quit until she worked there a year.”
“Could be a motive for robbery and murder.”
“Jeez, Jake, we’ll never get her back by saying that.”
“I’m just thinking out loud.”
“Our pitch is, ‘You fired in self-defense. No jury would ever convict you. No jury would even hear the case if the judge granted you immunity under Stand Your Ground.’ ”
“It’s a good pitch. Let’s see if she swings at it.”
I chomped into the bacon-and-gouda breakfast sandwich. Three hundred fifty calories, seven grams of saturated fat.
“And she’s with this man who asked her to marry him?” I asked.
“Apparently.”
“But Elena won’t say where they are?”
“Not directly. But she implied it’s in another state. He was a tourist Nadia picked up and brought to the club. Then, instead of disappearing at the end of the night, she stayed with him all weekend and love blossomed.”
“I’m touched.” I took a hit of my coffee. Verona dark roast. Black and strong. “Any clues as to what he does, any convention he might have been attending?”
“Only that he owns his own business and maybe it’s not doing so well.”
“Don’t tell me the B-girl got conned by a mark. The seductress falls for a flimflam artist.”
“You’re being a tad cynical, Jake.”
“You’re a hot woman, but you’ve been in a relationship for several years, so maybe you don’t know how many phonies are out there.”
She gave me a look and went back to rabbit-nibbling her croissant.
“What?” I said.
“I have to give you a Code Yellow.”
“The hell is that?”
“You’ve been flirting with me.”
“Have not.”
“I’ve been fending off men since I was fifteen, so I know.”
“Oh, brother. You think you’re gonna have to go all Charlton Heston on me?”
She didn’t get the reference, but then she was too young.
“Planet of the Apes,” I said. “Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!”
“You sound like a man who’s heard it before.”
“What did I do besides say you were hot?”
“That was quite enough.”
“Okay, I take it back. You’re not hot. You’re not even lukewarm.”
“Good. So it’s agreed. You’re not hitting on me?”
“Draw up a contract if you want.”
“I’ll take your word for it. You’re not attracted to me.”
I did my best to sound convincing. “Not even on a rainy Monday night. Sorry, kiddo, but you’re not my type.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t know. The barista over there making the caramel Frappuccinos.”
“The Goth teenage girl with tattoos on her neck?”
“Sure. And biker chicks with big boobs and muffin tops spilling over their short-shorts. And women who wear stretch tights to the supermarket, show
ing their camel toes in the frozen food section.”
“Really?”
“And women under indictment who jump bail. Anything but an Ivy League lawyer who’s . . .”
“Who’s what, Jake?”
I let out a long, deep sigh. My shoulder ached. I couldn’t close my right fist. I was dog-ass tired, and I’d been nailed by this sassy woman who I couldn’t get out of my mind. She was so damn smart. Intuitive, too. Women, I have long believed, are the more evolved of the species and have attained some higher level of being. Men act as if we just crawled from the swamp, our webbed feet dripping brackish water as we waddle ashore, seeking to mate with a female or, lacking that, a warm patch of mud.
“Look, I’m not hitting on a woman who’s in a committed relationship with my client,” I said. “I’m not the least bit attracted to a woman who is totally unavailable. That would be stupid and self-defeating. You have nothing to worry about. Now, are we okay?”
“Thank you, Jake. Now, you should go home and get some sleep.”
“Too late for that.” I drained my Verona roast. “What kind of coffee does Solomon like?”
“Dark, just like you. Why?”
“Let’s get one of those overpriced big ones to go. Plus a couple of scones, a slice of banana bread, and a sticky bun. Jail breakfast sucks. I’ve had it.”
“That’s very thoughtful, but it’s not summer camp. We can’t bring Steve a care package.”
“I know the corrections officer who has the early shift at the front desk.”
“He’ll let us bring food?”
“She. And the answer is yes.”
Victoria gave me a wicked smile. “Did you used to date her?”
“I always liked the way she frisked me. But it didn’t work out.”
“But she still does you favors. Speaks well of you, Jake.”
“Aw, it’s no big deal.”
She seemed to think it over a moment and said, “You know what I like about you?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“You’re a better man than you think you are, Jake Lassiter.”
-24-
Nadia and the Feds (Part Four)
One week before the Gorev shooting . . .
Office of the United States Attorney for the Southern District of Florida
In Re: Investigation of South Beach Champagne Clubs and one “John Doe”