Darren—”
“Dmitry.”
“If they catch you, you’ll go back to prison.”
He shrugged. “I like prison. Free room and board.”
“You like being locked up? Your liberty and freedom taken away?”
“Liberty and freedom are overrated,” he said, looking down at his coffee. “Are you through lecturing me?”
“That wasn’t even close to a lecture. Are you using?”
“No,” he said.
They stared at each other in stony silence until Pam deflated with a sigh. “So, what do you think I have that you want?” she said.
“Nikolai Egorov was a patient of yours,” he said.
“I’ve been through this with Oksana and the police. He was a nice old man. He wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t a vor, either.” She gave him a challenging look. “He didn’t know enough about anything to matter. Or if he did, then he didn’t tell me.”
“What else do you know about him?”
Pam found herself staring at his inked hands in fascinated revulsion as he brought the cup to his mouth. “I know that he didn’t do drugs. He wasn’t involved in gambling, protection, or prostitution.”
“You know quite a lot about this man you claim was just a patient.”
“I saw him every week for a year.”
“He was generous to you? Gave you presents?”
Pam sighed. “Just say it. What was he supposed to have given me that has put me on the Russian mob’s radar?”
“You mentioned what Nikolai wasn’t. You didn’t say he wasn’t a thief.”
Pam looked down at her desk blotter. “It’s not my job to judge.”
“You’re judging me.”
“Are you a thief, Darren?”
“You will call me Dmitry.” He said it mildly, but there was an undertone of menace in his voice.
Pam wasn’t about to call his bluff. “So you think Nikolai stole something and gave it to me? What?”
“Nikolai did a lot of traveling. Coincidentally, his traveling started about the time he started seeing you.”
“What?” Pam said. “I’m not getting the connection.”
“Nikolai had contacts all over Russia. He imported more than vodka and then sold it here.”
“Without the vor’s permission?”
Darren clicked his teeth and pointed his finger like a gun at her. “Exactly.”
“It was the vor that killed him? Did they beat him up for not paying a cut to them, and it went too far?”
Darren just looked at her.
“What’s Oksana’s play in all this?” she said.
“Oksana is losing power. The world of men is moving around her and leaving her where she belongs. She is nothing. She’s grasping at straws.”
“Look, I’m just a psychologist and a Reiki practitioner. I don’t want to be involved in the underworld. Nikolai wouldn’t have gotten me involved.”
“Nikolai was also an old fool. He thought he was brokering art that the Nazis stole from Russian museums. In some cases, he did buy authentic paintings and was able to sell them on the black market back in the States.”
“He didn’t give me any paintings.”
“He was also successful buying jewelry, coins, and medals.”
“He gave me a Faberge egg for Christmas last year, but it’s not real,” she said.
“Are you sure? Show it to me.”
“You’re an art curator? I didn’t realize they taught that in prison.”
“The license plate class was all signed up.”
Pam pointed to the paperweight she was using on the top of her filing cabinet. The egg had lost its sparkle, but the green glass was pretty in certain lights. It was heavier than she’d expected, so she used it as a paperweight.
“He said he found it at a yard sale and thought of me.”
Darren looked it over, opening it and turning it this way and that.
“Is it one of the missing ones that Rasputin stole from Alexander the second?”
“No, I think it’s a Lord and Taylor knockoff.” He put the egg back on the papers.
“It would help if you told me what you are looking for,” Pam said.
“It would help if I knew myself. What else did he give you?”
“He gave me a pendant. But it’s
“Dmitry.”
“If they catch you, you’ll go back to prison.”
He shrugged. “I like prison. Free room and board.”
“You like being locked up? Your liberty and freedom taken away?”
“Liberty and freedom are overrated,” he said, looking down at his coffee. “Are you through lecturing me?”
“That wasn’t even close to a lecture. Are you using?”
“No,” he said.
They stared at each other in stony silence until Pam deflated with a sigh. “So, what do you think I have that you want?” she said.
“Nikolai Egorov was a patient of yours,” he said.
“I’ve been through this with Oksana and the police. He was a nice old man. He wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t a vor, either.” She gave him a challenging look. “He didn’t know enough about anything to matter. Or if he did, then he didn’t tell me.”
“What else do you know about him?”
Pam found herself staring at his inked hands in fascinated revulsion as he brought the cup to his mouth. “I know that he didn’t do drugs. He wasn’t involved in gambling, protection, or prostitution.”
“You know quite a lot about this man you claim was just a patient.”
“I saw him every week for a year.”
“He was generous to you? Gave you presents?”
Pam sighed. “Just say it. What was he supposed to have given me that has put me on the Russian mob’s radar?”
“You mentioned what Nikolai wasn’t. You didn’t say he wasn’t a thief.”
Pam looked down at her desk blotter. “It’s not my job to judge.”
“You’re judging me.”
“Are you a thief, Darren?”
“You will call me Dmitry.” He said it mildly, but there was an undertone of menace in his voice.
Pam wasn’t about to call his bluff. “So you think Nikolai stole something and gave it to me? What?”
“Nikolai did a lot of traveling. Coincidentally, his traveling started about the time he started seeing you.”
“What?” Pam said. “I’m not getting the connection.”
“Nikolai had contacts all over Russia. He imported more than vodka and then sold it here.”
“Without the vor’s permission?”
Darren clicked his teeth and pointed his finger like a gun at her. “Exactly.”
“It was the vor that killed him? Did they beat him up for not paying a cut to them, and it went too far?”
Darren just looked at her.
“What’s Oksana’s play in all this?” she said.
“Oksana is losing power. The world of men is moving around her and leaving her where she belongs. She is nothing. She’s grasping at straws.”
“Look, I’m just a psychologist and a Reiki practitioner. I don’t want to be involved in the underworld. Nikolai wouldn’t have gotten me involved.”
“Nikolai was also an old fool. He thought he was brokering art that the Nazis stole from Russian museums. In some cases, he did buy authentic paintings and was able to sell them on the black market back in the States.”
“He didn’t give me any paintings.”
“He was also successful buying jewelry, coins, and medals.”
“He gave me a Faberge egg for Christmas last year, but it’s not real,” she said.
“Are you sure? Show it to me.”
“You’re an art curator? I didn’t realize they taught that in prison.”
“The license plate class was all signed up.”
Pam pointed to the paperweight she was using on the top of her filing cabinet. The egg had lost its sparkle, but the green glass was pretty in certain lights. It was heavier than she’d expected, so she used it as a paperweight.
“He said he found it at a yard sale and thought of me.”
Darren looked it over, opening it and turning it this way and that.
“Is it one of the missing ones that Rasputin stole from Alexander the second?”
“No, I think it’s a Lord and Taylor knockoff.” He put the egg back on the papers.
“It would help if you told me what you are looking for,” Pam said.
“It would help if I knew myself. What else did he give you?”
“He gave me a pendant. But it’s
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