The Truant Officer (32 page)

Eicher respected her passion—he was the same way when he started out as a prosecutor in his twenties. And the sad thing was, those days weren’t that long ago, even if they seemed like a different lifetime. While he refused to consider the possibility of Dava’s involvement, and thought Fitzpatrick had continued her trend of poor judgment, he didn’t think she went on some vigilante murder spree. Nor did he think she was a liar.

There must have been something that would explain what Fitzpatrick thought she saw. He sought to shut down Sarvy’s—Natalie Gold or no Natalie Gold—to find the answer. But he had no influence. And that was before more dead bodies accumulated, with a rogue federal marshal playing the role of lead suspect.

“Maybe you should take a cue from the Russians—you talk way too much. And you also get too close to those you protect. Nick is exhibit-A, and now you’re too close to this Darren McLaughlin.”

“I was supposed to be Nick’s girlfriend, it was part of the gig. And I happen to be worried about Darren because he’s in real danger,” she said, “but maybe I should become cold and detached like my father.”

“Your father is a good man who wants the best for you. And besides, this has nothing to do with him—this is about you.”

A light bulb seemed to go on. She snapped her fingers a couple times. “No, this is totally about parents.”

Before Eicher could inquire into the meaning of her cryptic statement, a guest walked into his office. It was Ivan. Eicher was relieved he carried no ice chest this time.

“I talk to sources. The ones I most trust. A woman flashed the badge of Dava Lazinski, demanding to see Parmalov. She had two hostages who met description of Nick and his lady friend. They were chained like prisoners.”

Eicher sat down slowly in his seat, stricken by Ivan’s words. “Are you sure it wasn’t someone who had gotten hold of her badge?”

Ivan shook his head. “They remember her from Brooklyn DA’s Office, when she tried to take down a Sarvydas prostitution ring.”

Dava had come to the US Attorney’s office from the Brooklyn DA’s Office, true, but the idea that she could be working for Sarvydas just wasn’t computing.

Fitzpatrick didn’t look especially relieved to hear the news, even if it backed her story. She appeared to be stuck on the eureka moment she had before Ivan arrived.

“I was wrong,” she muttered. “I told Darren that parents suck more these days. But parents have always sucked.”

Chapter 76

“Ivan, tell me about Nick’s mother. You knew her, correct?” Fitzpatrick asked, as if an energy bolt had shot through her.

Ivan smiled. It was the same way Nick smiled when he talked about his mother. Paula Zellen had a way of eliciting that reaction.

“Her beauty was only eclipsed by her voice,” he began. “She came to Brooklyn as a young girl from Canada. She was Paula Branche then. She would sing at local clubs as teenager. That’s when Viktor Sarvydas discover her, and made her headline act at Sarvy’s.”

“She also began headlining in his bedroom, right?”

“Yes, but Viktor’s bedroom wasn’t most exclusive club, especially when it came to his protégés. That’s what made Paula different.”

“How so?”

“He was in love. He’d practically skip down Brighton Beach Avenue. But it had to remain hush-hush because of Trina and their child, Alexei.”

Fitzpatrick looked mystified. “I don’t get it. Sarvydas is one of the world’s greatest plotters and strategists. Yet his ambush on Miklacz and his wife was a failure. It doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean failure?” Eicher interjected. “He ended up becoming the don of the Russian Mafiya and one of the most powerful men in the world. And nobody could ever prove he was behind it.”

Fitzpatrick shook her head. “I just spent six months in high school. And you know what I learned—it has the same dynamics as the Russian Mafiya. Both have certain codes that must be adhered to, to maintain the balance in the society. One common code is that the star quarterback always gets the prettiest cheerleader. Paula was the cheerleader, but she didn’t end up with the quarterback—she ended up with his nerdy sidekick, Karl Zellen. It goes against the laws of high school, and the Russian mob.”

“Most believe he have Trina killed to be with Paula. Sometimes man don’t think straight when in love,” Ivan said. “But then rumors began.”

“They’re not rumors when they’re true,” Fitzpatrick asserted.

Ivan nodded. “They were started by a Parmalov—he thought he should be king. Viktor wasn’t untouchable like today—his power was fragile, at best, and wouldn’t survive full-scale war. He needed to immediately squash rumors. That’s why I think he push Paula to marry Zellen and have child. It put him in clear.”

“But Sarvydas is a cake-and-eat-it-too kinda guy. And while he’s always been brazen, he is never stupid. Taking out her father made sense, but killing Trina was stupid. Why not just maintain the affair with Paula? Mistresses for powerful Russian mobsters are as common as vodka and extortion. Trina was no threat to his power, even though she was a blood Miklacz. The Russians are chauvinists by nature, a woman would never become the don. Killing her made no sense, except…”

“I don’t see where you’re going with this, Fitzpatrick,” Eicher said.

She ignored him. “She wouldn’t have been a threat to his power once he got it, but what if she was a threat to him ever gaining power? What if she was about to kick Viktor to the curb at the time of the ambush? If he got booted out of the Miklacz family, he would lose his place in the succession line.”

Eicher took the bait, “You think she was going to divorce him because she found out about the affair with Paula?”

“Affairs were accepted for Russian men of stature,” Ivan agreed with Becks. “It would have to be something more. Some secret he need Trina to take to grave, before her father found out.”

“Any ideas what that might be?” Eicher asked with exasperation.

“No—but I know who might,” Fitzpatrick said.

“And who would that be?”

“Parmalov told Darren and me that he set things in motion by revealing the truth to Alexei about his mother’s death, and then just sat back and watched the Sarvydases tear each other apart. I think Alexei was the one responsible for killing Paula Zellen. Who else would have access to that fortress of a mansion, where she was supposedly working on her music? And I don’t think it was a coinkidink that it was done in the same manner that Viktor used to kill Alexei’s mother.”

Eicher never truly believed that Viktor was behind Paula’s murder. If Viktor was going to take bullets for the show, they wouldn’t be directed at his face. He was too vain.

He tried to piece Fitzpatrick’s ramblings together. “So you’re saying that after Parmalov confirmed Alexei’s suspicions that Viktor murdered his mother, Alexei killed Paula for revenge—hitting Viktor where it hurts most. But Karl believed that Viktor was the one responsible for his wife’s death, in response to his potential testimony, and was going to go after him. But Viktor beat him to the punch, by putting a hit on Karl before he could act. And for such a special job, he called on his son, and future heir, Alexei.”

Fitzpatrick nodded. “But once again, Viktor was a step ahead. He secretly knew Alexei had betrayed him by killing Paula. So when Alexei did the deed on Zellen, his fingerprints were planted at the crime scene. My guess is Dantelli, Bachynsky, or both, were dirty, which is probably why they’re dead. Alexei was set up to take the fall, and with a lot of time on his hands to think, even a simpleton like Alexei was able to figure out who set him up—his own father.”

“He’s getting set up again,” Ivan said, catching on. “Viktor is returning favor of fake loyalty, just like Alexei did by accepting to do hit on Karl. By killing all evidence, it looks like Viktor freed him from prison—but it was all for show.”

“They got him out of jail to kill him,” Fitzpatrick stated emphatically.

Eicher cringed. “And he’ll go right to them. Alexei has said repeatedly that he knows who set him up and he’ll ‘take care of it.’ They’ll use his aggression against him. But what I don’t understand is why didn’t Viktor just have him killed when he learned about the betrayal. Why jump through all the hoops for the same result?”

A look came over Fitzpatrick’s face like she just solved the whole thing. She mumbled that she now knew why Viktor killed Trina, but provided no details. “Family is complicated,” she stated with a look of wonderment. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eicher demanded, she was technically still in custody.

“I’m going to the Natalie Gold video premiere party. That’s where they plan to kill Alexei.”

Eicher grabbed his coat and followed. Ivan wished them well—he couldn’t afford to risk his cover. Then Eicher remembered something. “Zubov went with Natalie Gold to pick up Alexei. He is going to be her date tonight.”

“Zubov isn’t going to kill him,” Fitzpatrick said.

“Then who is?”

“Darren McLaughlin.”

Chapter 77

Jessi Stafford stood outside the club where the Natalie Gold premiere party was about to commence.

The GNZ cable news network had negotiated a deal with Channel-6 for exclusive rights to her reports on the case. What this deal did for Jessi was provide a car and cameraman upon her arrival in New York, along with a press pass for the party. And best of all, a budget to purchase a designer dress for the event and use of the best hair and make-up people in Manhattan.

She anchored the prime position right in front of the Sarvy’s entrance, under its famed awning. She would have the last word with the glamorous celebrities before they entered the party. Not only had she clawed her way back to the top of the mountain, but she’d finally exchanged a monotonous news career for the exciting world of entertainment.

She could feel the buzz of energy as the stars rolled in—the streets had been blocked off, but that didn’t stop the fans from showing up to display their love for Natalie Gold. Jessi was more interested in seeing someone else—Nick Zellen.

She nervously checked her watch, beginning to grow anxious about his arrival. But when she looked up, he appeared out of the blue like a superhero to save the day. He sure did clean up well, looking dapper in a black Hugo Boss suit. He was alone, which surprised her. The way he talked, she expected him to be surrounded by a posse of gun toting grease-balls ready to shoot him on command. The McLaughlins were nowhere to be seen, nor was the leaker, Dava Lazinski.

Jessi knew there was no time to lose. “I’m standing here with Nick Zellen, a man we’ve learned also goes by the name Brett Buckley.”

Nick said nothing, appearing agitated.

Jessi pushed, “Are you ready to tell your story to the world, Nick?”

“There’s been a change of plans, I need to get inside,” he said, his eyes fixed on an enormous Hummer limo that had just arrived.

The comment threw her for a loop—she had withheld the information in exchange for this interview, and he’d made it sound like his life depended on it. But before she could lash out, he whispered in her ear, “I will provide you what I promised, but I just can’t at the moment. I was able to escape my captors, but I need to get inside before they track me.” He slipped her an object. He explained, still whispering, “It’s a secure cell phone—I will call you as soon as I can for our interview. But if I don’t make it out of here in one piece, run with the photos and text messages I gave you.”

Nick bolted into Sarvy’s. Before Jessi could even process what just happened, all eyes returned to the limo that Nick was so fascinated by.

Chapter 78

Natalie Gold stepped out of the limo to the screams of adoring fans, while camera-wielding paparazzi snapped photos. She looked stunning in a gold gown.

Her date was none other than Alexei Sarvydas, the rebellious son of music mogul Viktor Sarvydas, who was sporting a prison-chic hairstyle. Jessi understood that the bad-boy always attracted attention—and ratings. Alexei was as bad as they came, having just beaten a murder rap.

A third man was helped out of the vehicle and settled into a wheelchair. With his ill-fitting suit and out-of-date mustache, he didn’t seem to fit with the star-studded couple and their entourage. The cynic in Jessi figured he was a handicapped war veteran that celebrities would exploit in exchange for some good PR. He wasn’t stylish enough to be an agent or publicist.

He led them down the red carpet, shoving away any reporters who sought a word with Natalie. This didn’t discourage Jessi, who had blockaded the Sarvy’s doorway.

“Get out of the way or I’ll slit your throat,” the man in the wheelchair threatened. “That face of yours won’t look so pretty if I slice it up.”

“And you would be?”

“My name is Zubov, but most people call me their worst nightmare.”

“Were you wounded in the war? Speaking as a proud American, I thank you for your service.”

He smiled smugly. “Yeah, I was wounded in a war, but I don’t think it’s any war you’re talking about. Now get out of our way!”

Hero or no hero, he wasn’t going to keep Jessi from getting a few words with the world’s biggest pop star. “So how does it feel to be in America?” she asked Natalie Gold.

“It has already been a memorable experience. Just at the airport alone.”

“Tell me about the song from the video tonight—‘Vengeance.’ I think any woman who has had their heart broken can relate to this song.”

“The song is actually about a dream I had. I was standing outside my apartment building and watching as my own body was carried out. And I vowed to get vengeance on those who murdered me.”

“Well, many would say your rise is the thing of dreams. Just six months ago you were living on the streets of Tel Aviv and singing for your supper, but now you are the biggest star in the world.”

After performing the prerequisite duties of an entertainment reporter—discussing Natalie’s dress, shoes, hair, and every other accessory she wore, while giving proper credit to those responsible for her look—Jessi asked about the accessory on her arm. “And who is this handsome man who escorted you here tonight.”