The Con Man's Daughter (39 page)

"Yuri destroying the evidence," Eddie said.

"That's why he's not going to let you near his wife," Babsie said. "He'd burn down half of Brooklyn to protect her."

The front door of Yuri Borodenko's home had the same ornate carvings as the door of the Mazurka. Eddie pressed a button and the chimes rang out a few notes of a song he didn't recognize. Before he could ring again, a voice came over an intercom. Eddie pressed another button and gave their names. He said he needed to speak with Mrs. Borodenko. He had important information about her parents. They waited over five minutes, then an Asian man in a white Nehru jacket invited them in. A set of Gucci bags was stacked just inside the door.

"Women's luggage," Babsie said.

They were led into a room lined with books. The books were arranged too neatly to have been read by anyone. Borodenko came in immediately through another door. He was much shorter than Eddie had thought, but he'd only seen him seated. The Russian introduced himself. Not a bodyguard in sight. There had to be video security throughout the house; thugs close by, ready to pounce. Babsie sat on a red leather sofa. Eddie refused a seat, wandering around instead, looking for the portal with the hidden rifle pointed at him.

"You have information for me," Borodenko said, getting right to the point.

"First, I want to thank you for finding my daughter."

"Your daughter?" he said, looking surprised. "Your daughter is in the hospital, am I correct? I heard on the television. Doing well, I hope."

"A little rough right now, but it looks good."

"I'm happy for that, Mr. Dunne. But don't thank me. I had nothing to do with your daughter's return. From what I've heard, you worked tirelessly to find her, as I would in your position. I cannot imagine what lengths I would go to in order to save my wife or child. The most extreme, I can assure you."

"I'm not here to hurt Sophie, if that's what you're thinking. Or to rehash these past twelve days."

"Very noble of you. I'll pass your thoughts on to her."

"I need to talk to Sophie in person," Eddie said.

"That's not possible. You'll just have to forgive my wife's absence. Rest assured I will relay your message."

"Then ask her where I can find Zina Rabinovich."

"Sophie doesn't have that information."

The room was far less gaudy than Eddie had expected. It could have been the library of an Ivy League dean. A huge red-and-black Oriental rug centered the room. Dark wood all around. The paintings on the walls appeared to be the work of Russian artists. Eddie recognized an oil by Konstantin Lomykin, a favorite of Lukin. Snow-covered roofs in Odessa, the scene as desolate and sad as a hollow in Appalachia.

"I know who Sophie is," Eddie said. "I know all about her."

"And just what do you know about my wife?"

"I was the detective handling her parents' murders."

"I've read your reports."

"Then you haven't read the truth."

Borodenko was less imposing than Eddie remembered. He'd gotten paunchier, and balder. The cardigan sweater, though a soft expensive wool, gave him a frumpy look. His face showed the ravages of the long trip from Moscow and a marriage to a troubled woman half his age.

"Being that you know the tragedy of Sophie's parents," Borodenko said, "it surprises me that you would embarrass her with those photographs."

"We had a potential tragedy going here ourselves," Babsie said.

"I needed a way to force you home," Eddie said.

"Those photographs did not get me home, sir. My travel arrangements were made days earlier."

"Do you want to know why Sophie's mother died?" Eddie said.

Borodenko picked up a silver humidor from the table. He opened it and offered its contents to both of them. Eddie expected cigars, but it was filled with cigarettes-unfiltered cigarettes in a cream-colored paper. Borodenko lit one and walked to the window. The ocean looked as calm as a lake, not a ripple of white anywhere except at the very edge of the shore.

"Sophie's parents were killed during the act of robbery," Borodenko said.

"Nunez and Vestri, the two men who committed that act, went there with specific orders to kill them."

"Give me one reason why I should accept your version of the truth."

"
You
don't have to accept it, because I'll only tell
her
what happened," Eddie said. "Are those her bags near the door?"

"Sophie is going away for a short time. She has had a rough period recently and needs rest and medical attention."

"She's well enough to travel?" Eddie said.

"Yuri," Sophie called out.

Yuri Borodenko crossed the room and put his arms around the slender woman. Sophie was wearing a dark business suit, but she looked to be still in the process of getting dressed-no jewelry, no makeup, her hair still wet from the shower. Borodenko spoke softly to her in Russian, obviously imploring her to go back to her room.

"My wife is not prepared for this, Mr. Dunne. She is being treated for severe depression and is taking medication."

"No, Yuri, please," she said, pushing him away. "I want to say how sorry I am for the trouble I have caused. It's all my fault, all this trouble. All of it."

She was glassy-eyed and slurring her words slightly.

Yuri said, "My wife is a victim, Mr. Dunne. She has listened to an adviser who preyed upon her like a vulture."

"Zina only wanted to help," Sophie said. "First, let me explain everything to you about Zina."

"You have nothing to explain," Borodenko said sharply; then he spoke to her again in Russian. When he was finished, he said in English, "We are not doing this. This woman is a detective sitting here. We are going to postpone this discussion until I have time to have a lawyer present."

"Nothing any of us says will leave this room," Eddie said. "You have my word."

"I want to speak," Sophie said, pointing to Eddie. "I don't care of the consequence."

Even mob guys can be whipped, Babsie thought. Yuri doing everything but licking her shoes. And she didn't like the way Eddie was letting Sophie work him. Both males circling around her in some middle-aged dance of seduction. Babsie didn't want to hear the blonde's story, or Eddie's latest tale. She'd had enough sad stories in her life. But what pissed her off most was the fact that Eddie had the balls to commit her to legal silence.

"After my parents were killed," Sophie said, "my grandparents took me to Russia with only one small suitcase. They were frightened and only trying to protect me, but I had no pictures, no mementos, nothing of my parents. After I married Yuri and came here, I tried to find out things about them, some old friends with stories or someone with pictures, but no one will help. Yuri won't help because he says it will upset me."

"I hired Zina to help you."

"You hired Zina to guard me, but she did help. But Zina was afraid of Yuri, so I couldn't tell him what we were doing."

"You could have told me," Yuri said.

"Zina worked like crazy," Sophie said. "She found newspapers with pictures, and old friends who knew my parents. We met them in restaurants or Zina's apartment. Like a storybook, everything unfolded for me. Every week new people or mementos, always some memento of my parents' life. That's how I found out about you, and Pavlo going to the boat with my mother."

"Why kidnap my daughter?" Eddie asked.

"Mistake," Sophie said.

"My wife was not part of that," Yuri said. "These are thirdhand rumors she speaks of. She had no knowledge."

"She was driving the BMW," Eddie said.

"I have caused problems," Sophie said.

"We call them felonies," Babsie said.

"This interview is over," Borodenko said, grabbing his wife by the arm. She was stronger than she looked, and, combined with the power of tears, she made Yuri release her.

Sophie said, "Zina went into your house only to get mementos for me."

"What mementos?" Eddie said.

"She found nothing."

"She found Kate," Babsie said.

"She didn't know anyone was at home. Everything was bad after that, it happened so fast. Zina said Yuri would kill her so nothing mattered. I was afraid of what she was doing next."

"You could have stopped it anytime," Babsie said.

Tears ran down Sophie's face. "I wanted to. I wanted Yuri home so bad, but I couldn't tell him what had been done. Zina became crazier, saying she loved me."

Yuri held his wife.

"Enough," he said. "We'll set an interview at a later time."

"Just tell us where to find Zina," Babsie said.

"Not to hurt her," Sophie said.

"I think we've said enough," Borodenko said. "Sophie has a flight to catch. If you have matters concerning us, take them up with our lawyer. We will cooperate fully."

"You sent Sergei all the way to Italy for mementos?" Babsie asked.

"Am I wrong for wanting to know answers?" Sophie said. "Would you leave such questions unanswered?"

"What questions?"

"My father, Marvin Rosenfeld, had a defect," she said. "Zina found his first wife. She was surprised of my birth, due to doctor saying my father had medical defect. He was not able to have children." Sophie shrugged, as if any further medical explanation was beyond her.

"It was
your
DNA that Zina sent to Celltech," Babsie said. "You thought Paulie Caruso was your father."

"None of this matters," Borodenko said. "Zina Rabinovich is the criminal here. She is the one who sent Sergei to Italy. I fired her immediately when I heard. This woman clouded Sophie's judgment with alcohol and drugs. My wife had no idea Mr. Caruso would be murdered."

"I knew of Pavlo's time with my mother," Sophie said.

"Many people knew of them together. Zina said we'll have a medical test for proof. A little teeny bit of blood, she told Sergei, was all that was needed."

"Mission accomplished," Babsie said.

"Then Pavlo told Sergei of you and my mother," Sophie said.

"Your mother was killed because of me," Eddie said.

"I don't believe this," Sophie said.

"It's true," he said. "I met your mother my first week in Brooklyn."

"When was this happening?" Sophie said.

"Latter part of 1974."

"A love affair?" Sophie said.

"For a few months. Then she broke it off, never gave me a reason. Later, I heard she got married. I'd see her shopping on Brighton Beach Avenue, but she didn't know me. She'd look away."

"Pavlo said about the boat."

"I didn't speak to Svetlana again for years. In the early eighties, Paul Caruso brought her to a party we had on the new boat. He introduced her to me as Lana, the love of his life. 'Nice to meet you,' she said. And it went like that, until one night we were alone together."

Babsie Panko turned away and walked to the window. It was her turn to shake her head and stare out at the ocean. Yuri Borodenko nodded, beginning to understand. Eddie knew Yuri could see the whole robbery plan unfolding in his mind, the Caruso brothers at the helm. Sophie flopped down on the red sofa, sitting in the spot Babsie had vacated.

"Paulie was obsessed with your mother," Eddie said. "I knew that when he found out about us, there would be hell to pay. But I never thought he'd do this. I still can't believe he let them kill her. Not in a million years."

"From jealousy?" Sophie said.

"From a sick, vindictive mind," Eddie said. "I should have seen it coming."

"She wouldn't blame you," Sophie said. "I know what her heart was like and I saw your gentleness and kindness. I saw that when I watched you with your little one. Your granddaughter. I knew you couldn't have hurt my mother."

"You've said enough, Sophie," Borodenko said.

"Such a sad, beautiful love story," Sophie said.

"Beautiful?" Babsie said.

"Tell me something about her," Sophie said. "Please. Give me one memory of my mother. One special thing, please."

"Are all Russians this nuts?" Babsie said.

"Lana liked to sing," Eddie said. "She'd sing in my ear in this soft, whispery voice. I taught her to sing Irish lullabies. We were on a blanket in the marina, but she liked to pretend we were in the South Seas. And when she sang
too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
in that whispery Russian accent, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry."

"I will learn this song," Sophie said.

"That's just peachy," Babsie said. "Just tell us where to find Zina."

Sophie took a folded piece of paper from her pocket. She handed it to Eddie.

"Is this a joke?" Eddie said, looking at the note.

"No, you will recognize it," Sophie said.

"Maybe you should look harder for a relative of your father's," Babsie said. "They have professional services that do that now. Might save you a lot of trouble in the long run."

"I don't need such services," Sophie said. "Zina did DNA test with Kate, with different laboratory. Eddie Dunne is my father."

Chapter 44

Friday

4:30 P.M.

They crossed the Verrazano Narrows Bridge in the thick of the homebound traffic. Everybody was escaping for the weekend except Eddie Dunne's two-person contingent. A sea of taillights stretched out ahead of them on the Staten Island Expressway, but he swung off just past the bridge toll plaza, taking Fingerboard Road to Hylan Boulevard, which extended in a series of traffic lights through small, townlike neighborhoods. His third trip down it in eight days. This time, he'd go past Jimmy's Bistro to Great Kills Harbor on the south shore of Staten Island. If he had been more patient on either of the first two trips to Jimmy's Bistro, he would have tailed Sophie and Zina right to his daughter.

"Sophie is a collar," Babsie said coldly.

"We'll talk to the DA."

"What's to talk about? She's part of a kidnapping."

The note Sophie had given him contained only the name of a boat and the marina. She said the marina belonged to a friend of Zina, someone whose parents had once owned Coney Custards. Zina had kept Kate on the boat ever since that first night in Freddie Dolgev's apart-ment. Sophie said Eddie would recognize the boat. It had been a special gift from Zina. Six months earlier, she'd bought it from a man named Stark in Gerritsen Beach, then changed the name back to the original
Bright Star
.