Bad Bones (Claire Morgan) (13 page)

It was crystal clear that Black didn’t like any of those pointed threats, but that was just too damn tough for words. He said, “Okay, this is breaking patient confidentiality but you’re forcing my hand and I know I can trust you. I treat Anna Kafelnikov for depression. If she comes in to see me, she can tell us what we need to know. And if Ivan Petrov put out a contract on Paulie Parker, chances are that she’ll know about it, too. As Kafelnikov’s only child, she’s on the family board of directors, so to speak. And that way, Ivan will never know that he’s under investigation, which is safer for all of us.”

“And how do you propose that we arrange this little private chat with Anna Kafelnikov, or whatever her name is?”

“Ivan’s got fighters in the ring tonight. He should be there ringside. If he is, I’ll go over and say hello to him and see if I can’t get him to set up a therapy appointment for Anna. That’s the way we do it. When I’m here in town, I call and ask him if she needs to see me. You and I can interview her in the office I use at Barnes Jewish Hospital, and in private. If we do it that way, Ivan will never know you’re on to him. It’ll be better this way, Claire. I promise you. Nobody will get hurt. Then if he’s guilty, you can have a SWAT team go inside that compound and pick him up for you.”

“I don’t like it. In fact, I don’t like any of this. Are you sure that’s the only tie you’ve got with this guy Petrov?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a part of my brother’s organization?”

“Well, you’ve got to tell me again this time, if you want me to go along with your little plan.”

“Okay, there was one time that I had to deal with those guys, and I swear to God it was innocent on my part. I met with Kafelnikov at his country estate outside Moscow. Petrov was at the meeting because he’s the oldest son of Kafelnikov’s sister and was acting then as Kafelnikov’s right-hand man. All I did was carry what was pretty much a thanks-but-no-thanks answer from Jacques on Kafelnikov’s proposal to bring some of their illegal weapons in through New Orleans. Jacques didn’t want anything to do with them, but he didn’t want to disrespect Kafelnikov, either. It’s never healthy to do that. When I was there, I offered to treat Anna when her father told me she was suffering from depression over the abduction of her baby and then I gave him Jacques’s message, and I was out of there. Like I’ve told you before. I don’t get involved.”

“And you don’t call that involved? I thought we had an understanding about this stuff, Black. If you are some kind of courier for the mob, then we are done. I mean it. I am a law enforcement officer. I’m not going to look the other way on something like this.”

“I went over there before I even met you. I was contemplating opening my Moscow clinic at the time and had a trip planned anyway. Jacques asked me to do him a favor. I haven’t done another favor like that, before or since. Until now.”

And was Claire ever glad to hear that. “That’s a pretty convoluted bedtime story you just told me. A real Grimm’s tale, all right.”

“This kind of thing happens more than you might think. Once in the mob, you’re trapped there, whether you like it, or not. That’s one reason I never got in and changed my name to end any association with my brother’s business.”

“And you think Anna really will know if they hit Blythe Parker’s husband?”

“She keeps her ears open. Ivan is Anna’s first cousin, and she also knows Blythe well from when she was married to Ivan and lived in that compound. She’ll know if anything went down in the family. I wouldn’t be surprised if she helped Blythe get away from him, if she ever really did get away. The most important thing is that Booker’s and Kate’s names don’t come up in all of this. It could put his whole family in jeopardy. It could mean that Joey’s taken away from them. They couldn’t handle that, Claire. Neither one of them. They love that boy as if he’s their own.”

Claire knew Booker pretty well by now, but she had never met his wife, Kate. But now she wanted to. The woman sounded like she had a lot of guts. Claire already liked her. “Okay, I guess. But if this Anna doesn’t know anything, then I’m going to have to go see Petrov himself. I can’t just ignore Charlie’s direct orders.”

“Do you really think Petrov is going to tell you anything, even if you do interview him in person? Well, I can tell you. He won’t. But if we have to, we’ll go see him together, but only if Anna doesn’t come through for us. He thinks he owes me for making his cousin Anna feel better. He’ll see you, but I don’t want you to go inside his compound without me. Some people who go in there don’t come out. I know that for a fact. We can plan to meet him right here at the hotel instead, where nobody will see us with him. All I ask is for you to talk to Anna before you approach him. It’ll be better that way, believe me.”

“Well, one thing’s for certain, your little story makes it pretty easy to believe that Petrov and his pack of creeps are perfectly capable of beating a man to death with baseball bats.”

“You bet they are. That’s why I told you all this. And I’ve already talked to Jacques and Jose Rangos. They’re making discreet inquiries within their circles. If anybody put out a hit on Paulie Parker, they’ll probably be able to find out before we can.”

Jose Rangos was another powerful Mafioso who hailed from Miami and with whom Black bore a closer acquaintance than Claire would have liked. She had met Rangos once and afterward ended up having a rather ugly scene with Black when she confronted him about some of his more dubious criminal associates. They had worked through it at that time, but only because Black had sworn that he was not involved with them, other than familial blood ties, which was also a GREAT BIG SECRET that they were all holding close to their proverbial, mobster-loving vests. But now, here they were again, the mob back in their faces and causing complications that Claire did not want or need.

“I don’t like this any more than you do, Claire,” Black said, obviously reading the absolutely disgusted expression on her face. “But let’s just tiptoe through these interviews and get the hell out of here in one piece.”

“Fine by me,” she said and certainly meant it.
If
any of it worked. And it was a good thing Black had chosen that morning to give her a shiny new Glock 19, too. It appeared that around the Kafelnikov/Petrov families, she was going to need three weapons on her person in order to feel secure. Maybe she should stick a fancy Ritz-Carlton steak knife in her sock, too, just to be on the safe side.

Later that same evening, Nick Black followed Claire into one very rowdy, loud, and raucous Chaifetz Arena on Compton Avenue. He felt as if he were entering a Roman coliseum, with lots of thumbs just waiting to stab downward, gore galore, and hundreds of bloodthirsty fans shouting for no mercy. In other words, it was not his thing. He already knew it wouldn’t be Claire’s, either. She couldn’t stand to watch legitimate boxing matches, which he did enjoy. This sport was just a little too savage, but apparently not to the excited people now crowded together in the seats.

Claire was busy searching the place for some guy named Sonny Randazzo, whom Black didn’t really care to meet. In fact, he didn’t care to meet anybody in attendance. But he didn’t want Claire to meet them alone, either. He scanned the place for Ivan Petrov. Black didn’t know Ivan well but had spoken with him before, on occasion, as distasteful as that had been. He was willing to do it again, for Claire, and for a couple of personal reasons, too.

Once they had threaded their way to their ringside seats, they sat down in the front row where they could watch the punching and kicking up close and personal and hear the dull thuds of fists and feet bruising muscle. That’s when he found the object of his disgust. Ivan Petrov was sitting diagonally across from them, also in the front row, his usual entourage of enforcers and bodyguards surrounding him. If Black remembered correctly, they had two men inside their organization that competed in this sport. Hell, Petrov’s minions probably fought each other on a daily basis just to see the blood spatter. They were well known for their violence, even against one another. Claire did not need to mess with these guys, not on her own anyway, so he was going to do it for her. And for John Booker and his family.

Claire was still looking for her own unfortunate prey without much luck. Black didn’t envy the guy. Claire said he was obnoxious, and Claire usually didn’t handle obnoxious with kid gloves. He leaned close to her ear and said over the crowd noise, “I see Petrov. I’m going over there and talk to him.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

Black put his hand on her arm and stopped her. “You wait here. It will go better if I talk to him alone.”

“Like I told you, Black, I’ve got a lot of questions to ask him. Parker’s wife seemed pretty adamant when she accused him of murder.”

“Yeah, and like I told you, Claire, a personal confrontation is the last thing you need at the moment. These guys are not to be taken lightly. They kill at the slightest provocation.”

“Oh, yeah? They kill a police officer and they’re dead meat.”

“Which would also make you dead meat. Claire, listen to me. I am serious here. It will be better for your case if you don’t go over there and get in their faces. Asking a bunch of questions about this kid’s murder will only make them nervous. Please, let me handle this. I know a better way to get the information you need. Trust me, just this once.”

Frowning, Claire’s big blue eyes searched his face, definitely not wanting to relinquish control of her case, but finally and to his great relief, she said, “Okay. But if I see they’re giving you grief, I’m coming over there.”

“They aren’t going to give me any grief. You, they’ll give you plenty of it.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

Black looked around, and lowered his voice. “Again. And like I told you before. I treat his cousin Anna, who he says he loves and respects—if he’s even capable of those feelings. He thinks I make her a happier woman, which makes her father in Moscow a happier man, which makes Ivan more secure in his position. Kafelnikov dotes on his only daughter and will continue to do so unless he finds out she gave away his grandson to the Bookers. So just sit here and wait for me. I won’t be long.”

Claire did not look thrilled but she nodded. He got up and found Ivan Petrov’s gaze was already latched on him, as well as the eyes of every other man in his group. Most of them, however, swiveled their attention unduly to Claire as Black walked around the cage toward them, something else that did not sit well with him. He steeled himself. He truly loathed this guy but was careful never to show it. He wouldn’t show it this time, either. Ivan Petrov considered Black an equal, a loyal cohort who could keep his mouth shut. But Black wasn’t. Not even close.

When he reached the roped-off area reserved for Petrov’s thugs, Ivan stood up, smiled, and stretched out his hand. Black took it and hoped to God that there weren’t any paparazzi in attendance. The last thing he needed was for a photo of him getting friendly with Petrov splashed all over the tabloids.

“Well, if it isn’t Nicky Black in the flesh. Good to see you, man. Have a seat.” The burly guy sitting beside Petrov got up and stood in the aisle.

Black realized that some of the wiseguys were still staring at Claire, who was staring back at them, and with a look that could kill a horse. In fact, she looked as if she was fantasizing about pulling out her new Glock 19 and throwing them all behind bars. Which she probably was.

“Is that Claire Morgan I see over there?” said Ivan in his slow, heavily accented Russian speech pattern, apparently nobody’s fool, after all. “She here with you, Nicky?”

“That’s right.”

“I see her picture in the newspapers now and again. She’s that hotshot detective, yes?”

“That’s right.”

The two guys sitting on the other side of Petrov were his personal bodyguards. They were twins and looked almost exactly alike. Ike and Mike Sharpe, if Black recalled. Their last name, however, was not the least bit descriptive. Neither of them had much of a brain in his head and both were as brutal as the day was long. They were the cage fighters owned by Ivan, if Black remembered correctly, and their scarred-up faces and smashed noses bore witness to their profession. One of them grinned up at him. “Man, they didn’t make no cops like her when I lived at the lake. That babe over there? Hell, she can pat me down any time she wants and for as long as she wants. Wouldn’t mind a body cavity search, neither.”

The group of men around him all guffawed. Black set his jaw as they continued talking about Claire among themselves, mostly in explicit sexual and insulting language.

He said, “Claire Morgan and I are engaged to be married.”

That cut off their sleazy repartee right away. Ivan studied Black’s hard expression. “We meant no disrespect, Nicky, okay?” He glanced back over at Claire. “You really going to marry a cop? Yes, I can see her ring shining from here.” He looked at Nick again. “No need for us to worry about that, yes, Nicky?”

“Yes, I am, and no, you don’t.”

Their mutual suspicious scrutiny continued for a few more seconds and then Ivan grinned. “Of course not. I did not think such. You better mind your manners, though, I think. You and Jacques both. Or that smokin’ hot fiancée of yours over there just might take you down.”

Black frowned, suddenly very annoyed with the way the conversation had been going. “I have no part in Jacques’s business. Yours, either. What’s more, I am beginning to feel disrespected by you, Ivan. I don’t like that feeling. You understand me?”

Petrov’s smile faded instantly. “No, no, no disrespect, no. So, hey now, let us quit all this kind of talk. How you been? It’s been a long time, no.”

“Good.”
Yeah, right
, Black thought,
real good, that was rich, with Claire not long out of a coma, and all hell breaking loose no matter where they went.

“What you doing here in my town? Didn’t know you were into the fights, man.”

Black sat down in the empty chair beside Petrov. “I’ve got a patient I’m going to see tomorrow at Barnes. I just wanted to let you know that I have enough time for a session with Anna, if she’s interested.”

“Oh, yes, of course. She’s been down in the mouth some lately. You know, it’s still the kid, after all this time. She’s never gonna get over losing that baby. And I’m still looking for him. And the sons of bitches who took him.”

That didn’t bode well. And now Ivan Petrov was all business. He loved his cousin Anna. In fact, he pretty much obsessed over her unhappiness. Only problem was, he still kept her as a virtual prisoner inside his compound and that was what was making her unhappy.

“Well, I’ve got some open time if you want to bring her over to Barnes tomorrow. How does around ten-thirty tomorrow morning sound? That should give us an hour or so to talk before I have to get back to the lake.”

“I’m glad you came by. She always feels better after she sees you.”

“That’s good to hear.”
And she feels better for a very good reason
, he thought.

“So you really getting married, huh? When’s the big day?”

“We haven’t set a date yet.”

Petrov raised one eyebrow and lowered his voice. “Bet she’s a real wildcat, eh, Nicky? If you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, Black did know what he meant. He frowned and restrained himself from punching the guy out. He didn’t dignify Petrov’s comment with an answer.

“Hey, don’t take that wrong. That’s just my way of sayin’ best wishes.”

“Yeah, well, thanks. Look, I’ve got to get back over there. The fight’s about to start.”

“Oh, Nicky, my man, I’d say you better get over there quick. Your cop just walked off with some other guy.”

Turning to look at Claire, Black saw her disappear into the crowd with a man he had never seen before. Randazzo, he presumed. Damn it. Where was she going with him?

“Okay, tell Anna I’ll look forward to seeing her tomorrow. If the time is inconvenient, please tell her to call and let me know. We can always reschedule.”

“Better hurry. That guy looked like he could just eat her up.”

Black had had it with the suggestive talk. “You are disrespecting me, Ivan. I don’t like that. Nobody in my family will like that.”

It was a veiled threat. Jacques Montenegro and Jose Rangos acting together would be a formidable enemy, and Petrov recognized his mistake at once. He sobered quickly. “I mean no disrespect to you or to Jacques. That’s just the way I talk, man. I am foolish sometimes. I apologize.”

“Well, I don’t like the way you talk, man.” Black was angry, and made sure Petrov knew it.

Petrov held up both palms, as if to ward him off. “I get it. I, too, would take your head off if you disrespected Anna or any of my women that way. I humbly apologize, Nicky.”

“Okay. Just so you know.”

“You bring Claire Morgan over to the compound someday. I know that Anna would love to meet her. My cousin thinks the world of you.”

That’ll be a cold day in hell
, Black thought. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

“I plan to stay on the detective’s good side. Don’t want any trouble with the law.”

Black nodded and bid Ivan a hasty good-bye and headed toward the spot where he’d last seen Claire. Where the hell was she? He finally caught a glimpse of her, wending her way through the crowd toward the locker rooms. Randazzo had no doubt agreed to allow her to interview his fighters. Black sat down beside her empty seat to wait for her. Across the way, Petrov gave him a two-finger salute. Then he said something to his motley crew that made them all laugh. God, Black hated that guy’s guts. He hoped he never had to lay eyes on him again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that wonderful day in the apple orchard, Punk went to the deer stand every single day at the exact same time and waited for the pretty girl to show up again. She never did, but he didn’t give up. He would see her again. She would come back. He knew she would. In the meantime, he and Bones were getting really good with guns, now almost as good at shooting as they were with their fists. So one day when they were stalking rabbits out by the blacktop road at the edge of their pa’s woods, they lay perfectly still on their stomachs in the bushes and waited for the dead leaves to rustle when a rabbit or squirrel moved through them. They had gotten very patient when stalking, could lie silently for hours, and all that, but at the moment, they were pretty bored.

Both of them froze in place when a jogger suddenly rounded the curve below them, running toward them at a slow and steady pace. It was unusual to see anybody running out this far from town, and they watched him for a minute without moving or saying anything. He had on Nike blue nylon running shorts and a sweat-drenched, sleeveless white T-shirt, and gray New Balance running shoes with a yellow stripe, and a red terrycloth band around his forehead. He had a bottle of water in a little holder attached to his waist.

“I can’t believe that guy’s running in this kinda heat,” Punk whispered to his brother. “He’s gotta be crazy.”

Bones didn’t breathe a word until the jogger got all the way past them, and then he muttered softly, “I’m gonna kill that guy. I need me some bones to break. It’s been too long.”

“What’d you mean? No way.”

“Yep, that’s what I wanna do. I’m gonna go out there and snap every bone in that man’s body and then I’m gonna shoot him dead, right through his head.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bones. Pa’s gonna get mad, and they’ll put you in prison and you can’t win no more fights if you’re locked up inside there.”

Bones turned his head and looked straight into Punk’s eyes. He was grinning real big. “You think so? Well, who’s gonna know but us? And who gives a shit what Pa thinks? He’s so scared to damn death of us that he starts shakin’ when he sees us comin’. Especially me. He thinks I’m nuts.”

Before Punk could think that through, Bones jumped up and was out on the road, sprinting after the jogger. When he got close enough to his prey, he called out, “Hey, wait up a minute, mister.”

The jogger jerked around, stopped, and leaned over, hands braced on both knees, panting hard. “Yeah? What?”

“Thought I’d kill you dead today, or somethin’. You know, just to pass the time. I’m downright bored. Rabbits ain’t movin’. Too hot.”