Jude Devine Mystery Series (105 page)

“Hugo Debroize of Counter Threat Group?” Jude asked.

The response came in a deep South African drawl, the vowels broad and flat. “I’m your man. How can I help you?”

“This is Detective Jude Devine with the Montezuma County Sheriff’s Office in Colorado.”

“Don’t tell me. Fabian Maulle?” He added, “CTG notifies us when clients are hit. I was expecting this call.”

“Hit?” Jude repeated. “You think Mr. Maulle was executed?”

“It’s an assumption in our line of work. Most clients are at-risk individuals.” Debroize spoke so rapidly Jude had to concentrate to follow his speech pattern. A faint rise on the final syllables reminded her of Tulley. When he was nervous, his voice took on an unusual sing-song lilt.

“I understand you were employed by Mr. Maulle last year,” she said.

“Yes, for six months.”

“Could you tell me about that assignment?”

“Why don’t I save us both time and tell you who killed him?”

“Go ahead,” Jude invited. “But I’ll still need answers to my questions.”

Debroize barked a brief, resigned laugh. “Anton Voronov had Mr. Maulle killed, but you won’t pin anything on him. Even if you catch the
skebengas
who pulled the action, they won’t give him up. He has special punishments for idiots who rat him out.”

Not wanting to sound like she knew very little, Jude said, “We have information that Mr. Maulle and Mr. Voronov had a business relationship.”

“Ah, so you know who I’m talking about.”

“Of course,” Jude lied smoothly. If Debroize thought the police already had the facts and he wasn’t a sole source, he would speak more freely.

“Mr. Maulle hired CTG when Anton decided to blackmail him. He sent in a couple of goons to vandalize Mr. Maulle’s property, then threatened a family member.”

“Pippa Calloway?”

“You know the girl?”

“She found Mr. Maulle as he was dying.”

“
Yissus
, that’s rough. Nice young lady. Is she okay?”

“Yes, shaken up, of course. What was the blackmail about, Mr. Debroize?”

He became cagey with exact detail, testing to see how much she knew. “Mr. Maulle had class, but he did business with some real animals.”

“I guess when you deal arms to the highest bidder, that’s inevitable,” Jude remarked. “Anton piloted for him, didn’t he?”

“They both flew. But Mr. Maulle stopped when he didn’t need to skivvy anymore. Anton gets a rush from playing the big man, so he’s still running shipments himself.”

“I heard they argued.”

“Mutual loathing, but Anton went too far. Mr. Maulle said he was cleaning house before the New Orleans incident and told Anton he was out. The blackmail was retaliation, and Anton wanted back in, so he threatened to have Miss Calloway killed.”

“The break-in at Maulle Mansion was a calling card?” Jude queried. “Proof that he could get to her.”

“Yes, the warning shot.”

“How did Mr. Maulle resolve the threat in the end?”

“He gave Anton what he wanted,” Debroize said without emotion. “You have to understand something. Vermin like Anton Voronov don’t let go. Mr. Maulle had no choice. He knew what they would do to his niece.”

“So he believed he’d dealt with Anton.”

“Strange, hey? Anton’s busting his
knaters
to stay in the game, then he takes Maulle out anyway. Insane.”

“Very weird,” Jude agreed.

And why would Maulle have put up with an associate he hated for so long? She thought about the photographs. Maybe Anton knew about Maulle’s “hobby” and had used it as a lever to keep their business connection alive. Then Maulle got fed up and tried to cut him off, so he had to raise the stakes.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Jude asked.

“I’ll ask around. Give me your number.” After Debroize had taken her contact details, he said, “Please tell Miss Calloway I’m sorry. Also, if she needs security, CTG can take care of everything. She can ask for me personally.”

Jude felt a prickle at her nape. “Are you implying that Pippa’s still at risk?”

“
Ek sê
. That’s the problem. I don’t know what I don’t know.”

“Well, I appreciate your help. One more thing, why did Anton want to stay in business with Maulle?”

“Mr. Maulle was the one with the government contacts, and he never included Anton in that side of the operation.”

“So without those contacts, Anton would be frozen out?”

“Dead in the water. Scum would deal with him, but what’s he going to sell? Small arms like everyone else.” He was quiet for a few seconds, perhaps weighing how much to say. “Mr. Maulle was world class. Jet fighters. Submarines. Maybe even nukes.”

Jude’s heart raced. How did Debroize know all this? They’d googled Maulle and all they found was this or that charity awarding him medals. “Was his business common knowledge?”

Hugo Debroize chuckled. “No, strictly to insiders. But we have to know what we’re contending with when we provide close protection. Most CTG clients provide a detailed profile.”

“What was Maulle’s beef with Anton before the threats to Pippa?”

“Can’t help you there. Mr. Maulle never talked about it.”

“Okay. Thanks for your time, Mr. Debroize.”

Jude wasn’t sure if she was happy they’d talked or depressed. The more she found out about Fabian Maulle, the more bizarre this case got. It was already way beyond the scope of a standard homicide investigation.

She was about to end the call when Debroize said, “Something you might want to know… The Solntsevo crime syndicate put a contract out on Anton about a month ago.”

“They want him dead?” Jude scrawled down the name. “Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But it’s interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, very.”

Jude ended the call and strolled to the window, her mind racing. As she watched whirls of dust rise from the ochre plain beyond the headquarters building, a motive for the crime took shape. Anton thought Maulle was going to have him hit as payback for the threat against Pippa, so he sent in a couple of thugs to scare him into canceling the contract. Only they took things too far and Maulle died. That explained Coco’s murder and the bizarre attempt to clamp Maulle’s wounds with the bulldog clips. They weren’t supposed to kill him, Anton needed him alive.

To prove her theory, she needed to catch one of Anton’s men. Even if he wouldn’t cut a deal and give up his boss, maybe he would provide a few answers. So far there’d been no response to their composite drawings, although a couple of detectives in Miami said they had an angle on a Russian pimp and might get an ID.

As she left the undersheriff’s office she’d borrowed for her overseas call, Jude wondered how much longer they could run the case without involving the feds.

Koertig raced up to her as soon as she showed her face. “This isn’t what we thought.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Her cell phone vibrated against her hip and she said, “Hang on, pal.”

She stepped away to check an incoming text message, hoping for something from Debbie. At Wednesday night’s potluck, she’d tried to get some time alone with her, but Sandy made sure that didn’t happen. Jude had gone on to spend most of yesterday stuck in Telluride with a team of FBI agents trying not to draw attention to themselves. The first film festival arrivals were already in town and being greeted with open arms by those about to endure a long winter at the mercy of the hedge-fund crowd.

The people who worked for wages at the Mountain Village resort and local restaurants couldn’t afford to live close to Telluride. Instead they commuted along suicidal snowbound roads throughout winter only to find they could work all day without a tip from jerks who expected their shoelaces to be tied for them. The general consensus was that the film festival crowd might not have lots of new money, but they did have some class.

Having heard the bad news, the festival organizers were frantic, trying to decide if they should call the whole thing off and look like pawns in a phony government terror alert or let it roll and discover, via a theater full of dead celebs, that the FBI was telling the truth. Their position could best be described as one of mordant pragmatism. Amidst dark rumblings about the McCarthy era and outbursts over police-state tactics, they had handed over their VIP lists, festival program, and the names of anyone Jewish or any film that might attract a Jewish audience. The Klaus Barbie feature was among them.

Jude had left Hill and the team poring over risk-reduction options last night so she could get to Cortez in time for dinner with Koertig and his wife and an early start on the Maulle case this morning. Between times, she’d had a conversation with Arbiter and they’d agreed that she would search Sandy’s property first thing Monday and confirm whether she was a friendly or not. Arbiter had a heavy squad on stand-by in case the situation went south. The same applied to the ASS op on Sunday. Jude had her orders, and he’d even forwarded them in writing.

Having sown seeds of doubt in Hawke’s mind about a mole in the ASS, she was now supposed to spin some bullshit to Aidan Hill at the soirée tomorrow, giving her a last minute heads-up about the meeting at Lone Burro. Jude’s mission was to extract Hawke the moment the feds arrived. If they didn’t arrive, she had to use her judgment. Arbiter didn’t care if there was a body count so long as she didn’t compromise long-term objectives.

No pressure.

Jude read the text on her cell phone a second time:
Won’t be at soiree. Going Utah late Sat. Home Tues. XX Deb

Jude keyed a quick reply:
Cats fine. Have fun. Keep in touch
.

As Debbie signed off, Jude looked up to find Koertig had migrated to a huddle at another detective’s desk. She joined him and asked, “What’s up?”

“It’s Miami PD.”

“I think you better take this.” The detective passed the phone up to him.

Jude watched the excitement drain from Koertig’s face as he listened. He was silent for a while, then said, “Yeah, we’ll send someone. Thanks, Lieutenant.” He replaced the receiver and took a few seconds before announcing, “Listen up, everyone. That was Special Investigations Section in Miami. There’s two DBs in their morgue that fit the descriptions of our suspect males. Both died of gunshot wounds thought to be sustained during an altercation over a prostitute. No arrests have been made.”

He glanced toward Jude. “Devine will brief you shortly on her conversation with the security guard. This could shed light on the motive for the homicide.”

“Do you still want us working the Mercedes SUV trace?” someone asked.

“Yeah, it’s business as usual,” Koertig said. “We still have to prove these guys are the killers.”

“We have DNA, a shell casing, and a bullet,” Jude said. “If we get a match, or if the Miami PD find that Apple laptop or other property that ties the dead men to Maulle, we have our killers.”

She told the team to assemble for the briefing in fifteen minutes, and drew Koertig aside. After filling him in on her conversation with Hugo Debroize, she said, “If these are our guys, this was an inside job. Probably Anton having his own troops murdered for screwing up.” She gave him a beat or two to absorb the ramifications, then suggested, “Maybe take the waitress down to Miami with you and have her ID them in person.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s them,” Koertig said. “They’ve got the tattoos, and the lieutenant says they’re Russian and known to the Organized Crime Detail.”