Evidence in the alleyway butchering case was steering us back towards Professor Andreiopov, a man I had talked to earlier. After I mentioned that the reporter Tara O’Malley knew I had visited him, Dina decided we had to rush off immediately and hopefully beat her in talking to the man.
In the car, I turned to Dina and asked: “Why do you and Doctor Giles hate Miz O’Malley so much?”
“For one thing, she is annoying – always popping up when not needed, inserting herself into the investigation. For another, due to not checking her sources out once, she almost got Karen fired – this was about the same time you started with the force. Big mess, made a lot of news, ruined a few careers. She finally printed a retraction and issued a formal apology but … well, it’s hard to get over that.”
I decided I would need to look into that a bit more on my own. “The Professor is Russian-born and currently lives with his sister. He seemed open and friendly – especially when he learned I speak Russian, but…”
“You speak Russian?”
Distracted by the question I hesitated for a moment before giving my reply: “Yes. Russian, English and Spanish,” I didn’t mention the two other languages I have found myself conversing in – one I later learned was Polish; never did learn what the fifth was – for some reason it seemed going into these details would lead to more questions I did not want - or, honestly, know how - to answer.
“I saw Spanish in your file, and English is obvious but there was no mention of Russian – where did you learn it?”
“Growing up,” I replied. “Hung out with some kids from the Ukraine – the ones that ultimately got me into the gang, in fact.” It might have been the truth – I honestly do not know – but it made sense; she simply nodded.
“We’re here. You should have mentioned that – additional languages can always help an investigation.”
This time, Dina rang the doorbell. Once again, Jenna answered, but this time she greeted us with: “He is busy at the moment.”
“Busy with a pretty redhead?” Dina asked.
Jenna’s eyes widened. “A reporter, yes.”
Dina gave me an “I told you so” look, and then turned back to Jenna: “I’m sure they won’t mind us intruding. I can flash a badge if you wish?”
“Already saw his,” she answered, nodding at me. “Come in, wait here.”
Dina looked at me, I shrugged, and we did as requested.
Glancing around the entryway, Dina suddenly grabbed my arm and hissed: “Do you have your tablet or a camera handy?”
I followed her gaze to a spot on the floor near a wall. A tiny, red-brown smear was visible there. I nodded and took my phone out, snapping two quick photos before I heard Jenna’s footsteps returning. I realized she favored one foot – her left – and logged this information away.
“My brother is happy to meet with you, and Miss Omahlie wonders what took you so long,” she informed us. I found her pronunciation of Tara’s name amusing.
Dina shook her head, nodded at the apparent bloodstain, and, after I nodded affirmative, set out to follow Jenna.
I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing my other senses to run over the room, and realized there was a second drop of liquid near my feet. I dropped down to tie my shoe, as I did so, I slipped out a sample tube and collected the now-mostly-dry spot. Glancing through the door, I saw another halfway between this room and the kitchen. That was all I had time for before I realized how far ahead of me the two women were, and I rushed to catch up.
Dina glanced at me, and I mouthed: “found another; bagged it.”
She mouthed back: “Should have found them the first time!”
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I nodded, as Jenna opened the door to Professor Andreiopov’s study.
The Professor stood to welcome us: “Ah, today I am visited by two beautiful women – and one of the few civilized men I have found in this city, for a second time. I truly am blessed.”
“Sir, I’m Detective Dina…”
“Yes, Officer Daniels’ partner and mentor. I was told you would probably show up soon,” he interrupted.
“Yes,” Tara added, smiling, “and I was waiting until you got here to ask him for details on one of his students,” she checked her cell phone before continuing, “a Linda Marshall…”
“Why, so you could show off to my partner?” Dina replied coldly.
“She was the victim, right?” Tara answered, still smiling but with a touch of ice in her voice.
“We can neither confirm nor…” Dina began to recite like a parrot.
“Can it, Dina…” the reporter interrupted.
Ice in her voice, my partner replied: “Detective Genovelli…”
“Detective. I have more friends in the state crime lab than you have … well, probably, friends. You do not need to confirm it, though I’ll probably cover you in a more favorable light if you do…”
The Professor laughed: “Ladies, please sheathe your claws.” To me he added, in Russian: “It is always fun to watch them fight – from a distance, but close up? Too much collateral damage.”
I smiled and was about to reply, when I got an incoming text message beep on my phone. I noticed Tara make an odd movement at that same moment, and, on a hunch, passed my phone over to Dina.
“Tara, may I see your phone?” I asked innocently.
She started, and for a brief second her composure was gone. Then it recovered, and she asked: “Why?”
“Because I believe you were just texted a time of death, just as we were…”
Dina flashed a predatory grin: “You can either comply with my partner’s request – and help us plug a leak at the state crime lab – or you can refuse him and be charged with interfering with an investigation. Your call – I am happy with either outcome.”
Tara sighed, walked over, and placed the phone in my hand; she managed to brush her fingers along mine in the process, and I felt an odd rush of warmth course through my body at the contact. I thought I covered my reaction well, but a sudden gleam in her eyes suggested otherwise.
I focused on the phone. “Password protect…”
“Try D514,” Dina suggested. Tara paled at this as I typed in the combination. The lock screen vanished and a text screen identical to the one on my phone appeared. “Same message,” I informed the room.
“Pity. Ken’s good. Pretty easy on the eyes too,” Dina muttered. “Hope he does not get fired over this…”
“You wouldn’t…”
“If you promise to not print anything about this investigation until we tell you to, I will not,” my partner replied. “Otherwise, he’s on report…”
Turning to Professor Andreiopov (and not wanting this conversation to go any farther), I said: “By the way, sir, if you can prove you got here at two AM, you are off the hook. We’ve got the time of death at approximately three AM.”
“Will my security logs be sufficient?”
“If there is video…”
“I will go get them. Please keep the ladies from killing each other – there are some objects in this room that it is a bear to get bloodstains out of,” he informed me, then rose and hurried out.
As soon as he was out of the room, Tara said: “If I can have my phone back, I’ll see if I can get my editor to hold the story I already filed, OK?”
Dina glared at her as I passed the phone back, trying my best to avoid direct contact with her.
A few seconds later, she came back with: “We’re in luck. Give me your email and I’ll forward a copy to you two, but the editor hasn't passed it to typesetting yet.”
“What kind of a story do you have already?”
Her assurance – and smile – returned immediately. “You mean you don't know? This is the third killing!”
We were about to ask for more details when the Professor returned with a CD in his hand. “This disk covers eight hours - should be the entire time in question. I have not looked at it myself, though.”
Dina took the disk from him: “Thank you, sir. We’ll be in touch, one way or the other, after we review this.” She then turned to Tara, “and you we will need to talk to, outside – Now!”
Tara smiled: “Of course – I’ll be back later to chat with you about your student, if you don't mind, Professor?”
“Of course not! Do you need Jenna to show you the way out or…?”
“No, we’re good. Thank you for your time, sir,” I replied. I had managed to move over by his window, and casually opened it a crack before turning to head out.