Forgotten in Death(99)

“Thank you, lyubimaya.”

Eve recognized the look in his eye as he watched his wife walk away. And wondered if she’d still see the same in Roarke’s for her when they were eighty.

“So,” he said. “There’s more for us to discuss?”

“We came to the area to speak with Elinor, J. Bolton, and Marvinia Singer. And thought we’d conduct a follow-up with you, as we’re here.”

“Ah, Marvinia. A lovely woman. She and my Marta are good friends.”

“So she told us.”

“I fear Elinor will be displeased with me, for Alexei’s sins. What can you do? So, Alexei, he’s on his way to his new life?”

“I’m sure you know he is.”

Bardov smiled. “You and your associates have done an excellent job. I don’t believe I’ll waste time, any more time, on Alexei. He’s hurt and disappointed his aunt and, for me, this is a bigger sin than the theft. She shed tears for him, but they’re done now. Our granddaughter brought the twins to make her happy. They do.”

“They were decorating each other more than the cookies,” Peabody told him, and now he flashed a grin.

“Children are the light that cuts through any shadow. You don’t ask, but I’ll tell you. We’ve gone to see and reassure Nadia. She’s family, her children are our children. As are the others. They’ll be cherished and tended as children should be.

“Now.” He gestured and began to walk. “Tell me why you came. You don’t worry I’ll hunt for Alexei. The woman he killed, I know, is to be laid to rest by her family, in her home. As I know the man who once beat her, treated her cruelly will now be punished for it.”

“You know quite a lot.”

He nodded at Eve, stopped to pull small snippers from his baggies. He cut a fat red peony and offered it to Peabody. “You enjoy the scent.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I know quite a lot because I have an interest. You and Detective Peabody are of interest to me. At one time of my life, this interest would have had a different purpose. But these days, I enjoy my gardens, I think to get chickens. The children would enjoy them. I think a puppy. It’s time, as old Boris died in his sleep last winter. I think I have years ahead and will spend them with the gardens and the children, the chickens, the dog. Two dogs,” he said with a nod. “We’ll get two puppies.”

The idea seemed to please him as he took off his gardening gloves.

“The … pursuit?” he continued. “The interest in such things wanes. I wonder if your husband would like to buy my company.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I have no one to leave it to now. It would have been Alexei’s. How foolish he was to steal what would have been his own in only a few years. My children have other lives, and are not involved in this part of mine. I’m grateful for that now. I see Marta was wise to insist. So, I think I am retired.”

He nodded again. “I’ll be speaking to Roarke. But that’s another world from this, from you coming to see me. This is about the woman, the one with child. I have thought of her since I learned. I’ve asked some questions, but I don’t have any answers for you.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

“Yesterday, ah, perhaps, perhaps not. Today, I’m retired.” He smiled, radiating charm. “Yes, I would. I would accept your way of justice today. And I hope, tomorrow. She haunts me. I have no face to give her, but she haunts me. I ate in the restaurant with my family, many times, with her and the child trapped under our feet. I would help you if I could.”

Eve pulled out her PPC. “Let me give you her face.”





20





Bardov studied the sketch, then crooked his finger.

He sat on a bench and, when Eve sat beside him, studied the sketch again.

“A man in the line of work from which I have retired must remember faces. I remember faces. I don’t know hers. Didn’t know hers,” he corrected. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you who she was. But I know I’ll remember her face now.

“Will you find her?”

“I will. We will.”

“Good.” He put his hands on his thighs. “She had a mother, perhaps my age now. Her mother should know.”

“How closely was your business aligned with the Singers when the woman in this sketch died?”

“They had more trouble than me. I had ways to profit from the … unrest. Some still call it unrest. Ways I won’t detail to cops on such a pretty day. We can say my interests were more diverse, and not so bound up in building and development. So during the time this young woman died, and the push for building ran hot, the Singers, and others, required backing. Loans or influence.”

“Such as knowing which inspectors to bribe, what official to blackmail?”

“Such as,” he said with a smile. “Though Elinor still pulled most strings, J.B. was the titular head and he would have his vanity project.”

“The Singer Tower.”

“Yes. It had survived the unrest, but hadn’t been completed and, as many buildings did, had damage—from the unrest, from squatters. He had a vision, and not a bad one for all that. For the tower, for the lesser buildings to accent it. He poured the company into that, and gave less to the—ah, what did they call it?”