Crime Machine

Crime Machine by Giles Blunt

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Authors: Giles Blunt
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close to his father.”
    “Okay, now please think about this: did the Bastovs have any enemies? They made a lot of money. Maybe somebody thought they didn’t deserve it. Maybe somebody felt cheated.”
    Another shrug. “I heard Irena’s brother is not so crazy about Lev. At first he was all for this marriage. Totally excited. Telling whole world. Then, I don’t know, some business deal goes bad, something like that, and … not so happy. This is what I hear—I never met him.”
    “What about jealousy? Maybe someone more romantic than yourself was in love with Irena Bastov.”
    Ms. Kuritsyn turned to Cardinal but gestured toward Delorme with the slightest toss of the head. “She’s good cop, no?”
    “You should just answer the question,” Cardinal said. He kept it deadpan. He seldom got to see Delorme wrangle with another woman and he was enjoying it.
    “You two see each other outside of work?” Ms. Kuritsyn asked.
    “Please focus on the question,” Delorme said.
    “I think you do.” Ms. Kuritsyn sat back with the smile of one who has just won a hand of poker. “I didn’t really know Irena Bastov. I wasn’t interested in Irena Bastov. But I hear things. Things maybe true, things maybe not true.”
    “Things like what?”
    “A bush pilot, comes here a lot. Ron Larivière. Everybody in this business knows Ron. Supposedly he was fucking her. Why do you look like that? You don’t use this word? All right. Supposedly they were
making love,”
she said, giving it ridiculous emphasis. “You like better? Supposedly they were
making love
. If true, I think this would upset Lev. Who knows? Maybe he got upset and someone got upset back.”
    “But why would he kill Irena too?”
    “In your job I suppose you must try and understand people. Is necessary maybe. But for me?” Ms. Kuritsyn shook her head. “Waste of time.”

10
    I T WAS DARK WHEN C ARDINAL and Delorme came out of the fur warehouse. The temperature had dropped, and blades of cold pressed against Cardinal’s face. The parking lot was empty except for three or four cars and a red pickup with a bumper sticker that said
I ♥ Country Music
.
    “Lev Bastov’s been in this industry forever,” Cardinal said. “It may be his killer has too. At some point we’re going to have to talk to some real old-timers. Get background on him and the local biz.”
    “What did you think of our Russian agent?” Delorme said. She pulled her hood up against the cold.
    “I think she liked you.”
    “Are you kidding? She was completely hostile.”
    “Funny thing, Lise—you don’t seem to have any trouble understanding men, but women are a whole other story. I meant she
liked
you.”
    Delorme looked back toward the warehouse, then at Cardinal. “No way. She has a husband.”
    “Touching your hand, saying she’d marry you.”
    Delorme shook her head. “You are so wrong.”
    “Well, why don’t you wait in the car a minute.” Donna Vaughan was waving to Cardinal from across the parking lot. “Someone I have to talk to.”
    The reporter was by her car, notebook in hand. She had bought herself a thicker parka since the other day.
    “Just leaving?” Cardinal said. “Or just arriving?”
    “Leaving. Man, I get tired of Russians. These people are paranoid with a capital
P.”
    “You talked to Natalia Kuritsyn?”
    “Yesterday. Kind of frisky, that one. Today I was interviewing Russian buyers. Four of these guys, all built like trucks. All from Kalinin. Spoke five words of English between them.”
    “How were you able to ID the Bastovs before we were?”
    “Trade secret.” She held out her wrists together. “You can tie me up and beat me. I’ll never tell.”
    “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
    “Actually, it was just dumb luck. I happened to be interviewing Natalia Kuritsyn when she was waiting for the Bastovs to show up. She got more and more worried, called the hotel, called the cops. Did you find the car yet?”
    “We’re running that

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