L.A. Boneyard (22 page)

“Mickey?”

“Let’s go find out,” David said.

They waited for the Caddie to coast to a stop. Two spots in front of them a pale blue Ford Fairlane van half blocked their view of it. David climbed out as the man they assumed was Mikalenko got out. The guy had a really bad hair weave. His natural hair was almost entirely gray and it so didn’t match his blond add-on. He was also heavy set and even from the passenger’s side door David could see the thick hair that covered nearly every inch of exposed skin. The Bear. The guy wore as much gold bling as a rapper at a midnight rave. He looked like a mange-ridden cat with a gold fixation.

David and Konstatinov approached the unaware man cautiously. David was glad to see Konstatinov had his rover out, and was ready to call for backup, if Mikalenko rabbited.

The Ukrainian finally noticed them. He tensed, then tried to look nonchalant as he turned away from them. Then before David could react, he bolted across the street. Konstatinov was right on his heels. David raced after them. Mikalenko darted down an alley between two apartment buildings. He darted left, and came up against a wooden barrier surrounding two half-filled dumpsters. He threw himself at the wall, and would have
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made it over, if Konstatinov hadn’t been right behind him. He grabbed Mikalenko’s ankles and hauled the heavy man back, onto the ground, snapping his cuffs on him with a single practiced move.

Mikalenko screamed like they were beating him with batons.

David hauled him to his feet and shoved him back toward their unmarked.

“Why are you chasing me?”

“Why are you running away?” David countered.

“Police brutality,” Mikalenko yelled. “I want my lawyer. You cannot touch me, I have done nothink. I am innocent.”

“We’re just going down to the station for a little chat. You can call your lawyer there,” David said. They loaded Mikalenko into the back seat of the Crown Vic, still cursing in English and Ukrainian. They listened to twenty minutes of that while they returned to Northeast where they booked Mikalenko on suspicion of soliciting with intent to sell. They didn’t bother laying the murder charges on him yet. David knew there wasn’t enough proof to take that charge to the DA.

Mikalenko was good as his word. He lawyered up the minute they Mirandized him and took him down to the booking station, where he was fingerprinted and photographed. Now they had an up-to-date picture for their files.

They didn’t have a lot more, and David knew if they didn’t find something soon, Mikalenko was going to walk. No doubt bound for the first plane back to Ukraine.

They were on a tight leash now.

“Come on,” he said to Konstatinov. “Let’s go back and talk to those girls. Maybe they’ll believe us now.”

Monday, 3:55 PM, Cherokee Avenue, Hollywood
They found Irinka packing for a trip she flatly denied planning. She stonewalled any attempts by Konstatinov to get her to talk until David shrugged and pulled out his cuffs. Then she did an abrupt about face and starting talking so fast even Konstatinov had trouble keeping up with her.

The two other women were still in the house, hiding in the closet of the smallest bedroom in the back of the bungalow.

They crept out like whipped dogs when David popped the closet door open. Konstatinov kept up a constant stream of soothing conversation, and after several minutes, all three women calmed down enough to talk.

David put a call in to the station to try and round up a female officer who at least had some understanding of Ukrainian. As luck would have it they found one in Chatsworth and she would be dispatched to Northeast that same day. Now, all they had to do was talk the three women into going to the station with the two men, without resorting to arresting them.

Fortunately Konstatinov seemed to have a golden tongue, and a way with the ladies, so it wasn’t long before they were laughing and teasing the handsome blond officer, who blushed furiously every time one of the good-looking women looked at him. He seemed especially enamored of the soft zaftig Irinka.

He spent the ride back to Northeast leaning on his elbow over the back of his seat, chatting up Irinka and getting her chattering like a magpie.

Back at the station, David threw the car into park. “If you’re going to marry the girl, you can set the date later. We need to get them into interview rooms and wait for our translator.”

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Konstatinov blushed but he still took the time to guide Irinka into the station, leaving the others to be escorted by David, who brought up the rear.

Activity in the station halted as all three women tottered in on high heels, their blond hair swinging free, and their flushed faces taking in the sight of a half a dozen men, most wearing uniforms, stopping whatever they were doing to watch the Ukrainian beauties walk by.

Some wag noticed David and couldn’t help from saying,

“Now there’s a waste. How do I volunteer for a duty like that?”

David ignored him.

Konstatinov led Irinka into an interview room. David took his charges in to two others, separating them so they couldn’t cook up stories between them, or corroborate their activities. If he was right, the three women were victims here, but he had to establish that before he could release them. He also had to know they weren’t going to skip once they were released. His case against Mikalenko might just hinge on them.

David left the two other women with soft drinks and a quiet word, and joined Konstatinov and Irinka in interview room one.

“You ready?” David asked the younger man.

“What should I ask?”

“I’ll feed you lines, you just translate.”

“Yes, Detective.”

“First, for the record, ask her if we can record? Then get her full name, social, place of birth and employer if she has one.”

Irinka was clearly uneasy about recording her interview but Konstatinov soothed her rattled nerves and got her to agree.

The rest was easy. They already knew most of it. Then, “Ask her when she first met Mikalenko. Was it here in the US or was it in Ukraine?”

“Ukraine. In Kiev. That was over two years ago.”

“Did he have other women with him at the time?”

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“No, he was alone. Later there were women, but she’s not sure where they came from. Irinka only knew their first names.

Halyna and Zuzanna. That was maybe two years ago.”

“What did Mikalenko offer them?”

“She is not sure what you mean by offer.”

“Did he promise the girls anything? Jobs? Money? Visas for the US?”

Irinka was nodding vigorously. “He told them they would get good jobs in America. That they would be well paid and he also said they would get good husbands. American husbands. It is like marrying a prince to them. Happily ever after.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t tell them he’d make them movie stars,” David snorted. “What’s one more impossible dream to shoot for. Was she ever pregnant?”

Irinka bolted upright at the question, her already pale face going parchment white. “She wants to know how you knew?

Have you seen her baby? Mickey told her it was dead, that it was born dead. She was never quite sure she believed him. She felt him move when he was born. She thinks she heard him cry.”

Tears were leaking down Irinka’s face now. She flinched when Konstatinov used a Kleenex to wipe her face dry.

“What about the other women? Any of them have babies too?”

“All of them. Natalya was last. She had her baby only last month.”

There had been no babies in the small bungalow. “Natalya?

Does she mean Natalya Lapchuk?”

Konstatinov shook his head. “She does not know her last name. Only Natalya.”

“What happened to the babies?” David asked.

“She does not know, but she is beginning to fear that the answer to that question is terrible. Mikalenko was present at all of the births and he said they all died. But how do three babies die, boom, boom, boom? It is not like they did not see a doctor.

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Mikalenko took them to see a nice Ukrainian doctor several times during their pregnancies. He always seemed to care. So what did he do with them? If the other three were also pregnant, then Mikalenko wanted it that way. He wanted those babies. Why kill them all? Talk about cooking the golden cow.”

“Black market for blond white babies is huge. The sky’s the limit for some rich couple who can’t have their own. They don’t ask too many embarrassing questions. Babies get into the system, they disappear just like that.”

“I am very confused,” Konstatinov said. “Why are the three women dead then? It does not make sense.”

“I don’t know.” David frowned. “You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense. He could have kept the three of them immobile for a few more weeks, induced labor and he’d have had three more very marketable babies to sell. So what went wrong?”

“She seems genuinely confused. She does not see that he might have done harm to them. He was so good to her and her friends. He did not do what he said he was going to do, they never got jobs and the visas they came with were never used.

She never even saw them again. Mikalenko took them and told them it was for ‘safe keeping.’ But he did bring men around.

And there was talk of marriage.” She gave a delicate shudder.

“Some of the men were not nice. Some smelled bad and they were rough.”

“A marriage scam? I’ve heard about them.” David wished Chris was still talking to him. He could get Chris to run down all the information that was available on Internet marriage scams. David never paid a lot of attention to that world, though he knew there were cops who did nothing but work Internet crimes, mostly kiddie porn and identity theft, but something like this might tweak their interest. But he couldn’t go to Chris, could he?

“Did she hear Mikalenko ever talk about money changing hands? For any reason?”

Irinka talked long, waving her arms around to emphasize some points, curling her hands in her lap at other times. Finally L.A. BONEYARD
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she stopped and sat looking at Konstatinov, who said something soothing to her.

He turned to David. “She says no, then qualifies it. He did want them to be extra pretty for the men and more than once she saw the other men give Mikalenko ‘stuff,’ she’s not sure it was money, but it could have been. She did not like what it implied so she never asked. Whatever it was, none of them ever saw any. Mikalenko bought food, but he expected them to cook it themselves, and keep the house clean. He got very angry when it was not cleaned properly.”

“Did he hit them? Beat them when they did something that made them mad?”

“At first she said no, then she admitted he did—once or twice. Not much. I get the impression they pretty well thought that was par for the course. All men hit women. It is their nature.”

“Did he claim room and board from them?” Off his puzzled look David explained. “If we go to him with a complaint that he didn’t pay his ‘workers’ he’ll claim they were working for room and board. Still not legal, but it might be enough to let him slide out from under.”

Konstatinov posed a question and Irinka answered. “Ah, he expected them to pay him. That is why they were supposed to be nice to the men he brought over. If they weren’t nice, he told them he would put them out on the street and they would be picked up by immigration.”

“Bingo,” David said softly. “Now let him try to tell us he was just helping out some fellow country women. How much?

How much did he charge them?”

“It depended on how many men they had to be ‘nice’ to. If there were many, he said they owed more since it was more work to clean and cook for them.”

“But they never saw any of this payment? Did he buy them things?”

Irinka nodded. Konstatinov said, “Yes, clothes, toiletries. He even brought in a professional makeup lady who taught them to
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put on makeup and look pretty. The woman used to work in movies, she said. She told a lot of fun stories. All the girls hoped to impress a big Hollywood person and live up in the hills. They felt very glamorous, with their faces dressed and the new clothes Mickey gave to them. Sometimes Mikalenko would take them driving in his ‘soft’ car and show them all the beautiful homes. He implied he could see that they lived up there and had all the money and clothes they ever wanted.”

Tears welled up in Irinka’s eyes as Konstatinov said, “But she says ‘All I wanted to do was go home to my baby.’ The one Mikalenko didn’t get away from her. She is glad now he talked her into leaving the baby behind with her Baba—her grandmother, and her husband. She does not know what Mikalenko would have done to the child if she had been here.”

“So if he didn’t already have this baby selling scheme planned out, he must have come up with it later. What happened? Did one of his girls get pregnant, and he couldn’t force her to get rid of it, so he decided to sell it?”

“It’s possible. He is a monster, either way.”

David nodded. “Tell her if she cooperates with us, we’ll see that she gets home. That I can promise her.”

Konstatinov spoke for nearly a minute. That seemed to rejuvenate the woman who chattered for several minutes, presumably about her daughter back home.

David stood up, drawing an alarmed look from Irinka that was quickly quieted by Konstatinov. “I think that’s enough for now. We need to interview the other two, then we can see about getting them home. Mikalenko will be in jail at least for the night, even if he does get a mouthpiece. After that, they may want to think about relocating.”

Konstatinov relayed the words of advice. Irinka frowned and shook her blond head. “What will they do? Where will they go? They know no one here. Only Mickey—”

“I know, I know. He was always good to them. Tell her I’ll think of something. I’m sure we can contact the local women’s shelters. They’ll help us.”

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The other two interviews were only moderately productive.

They mostly confirmed Irinka’s words. It turned out Katrina also had a child in Ukraine, a six-year-old boy who was staying with his aunt, Katrina’s sister. She had been married, but her husband was killed in Iraq. He had been dead for over five years. She had no prospects so she had jumped at Mikalenko’s offer.