Private Moscow (Private 15)

Jessie and Rafael took me up a spiral staircase that stood at the edge of the building and, as we climbed, I looked out of the huge windows at the snow-covered city. Somehow the sunshine reflecting off the surrounding skyscrapers seemed brighter than ever. Maybe it was an effect of the freezing air, or perhaps I just wanted to see warmth wherever I looked.

We made our way through the executive floor and came to Jessie’s office, which was located in the northwest corner of the building. Jessie went in first and I followed.

Victoria Parker was sitting on one of two tan leather couches that faced each other. Sitting next to her was a woman in a black dress.

“Jack,” Victoria said as she got to her feet.

Her eyes were raw, but there was no sign of any fresh tears. She looked furious.

“I’m so sorry,” I told her as we embraced.

“Thanks,” she replied. “This is Letitia Jones.” She indicated the woman in the black dress. “She’s our … my attorney.”

Letitia shook my hand. She was mid-forties and had a cold, suspicious demeanor.

“How’s Kevin?” I asked.

“He’s at home with my mother,” Victoria said. “The doctor’s given him some sedatives.”

“I’m so

rry,” I repeated with a deep sigh. “I just don’t know what to say.”

“There isn’t anything anyone can say at a time like this,” Victoria replied. “You know that as well as anyone.”

I nodded. She was right. My personal interest in the case was clouding my professionalism.

“Would you like a drink, Mrs. Parker?” Jessie asked.

Victoria shook her head. “No, thank you. I want us to get down to business. I’d like to hire Private. I want you to find my husband’s killer.”

CHAPTER 12

“WOULD YOU MIND giving us a minute alone?” I asked Jessie and Rafael.

Letitia looked at Victoria for guidance, and her client nodded. The three of them left the office, and Victoria and I were soon on our own.

I went over to the west-facing window and looked down at the footsteps in the snow-covered park. Pursuing a personal investigation was a very different matter from taking Victoria on as a client, and I wanted her to understand the risks involved. I looked up and searched the city for inspiration, but my attention was caught by my own translucent reflection, which looked like a ghost floating in the January sky. A tired, troubled ghost, I thought as I studied my face.

“What do you want to say, Jack?” Victoria asked. “Karl always spoke very highly of you. He never mentioned you were the type to beat around the bush.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to face her. “I was trying to find a delicate way to say what needs to be said.”

“Do I look like someone who gives a damn about delicacy? If it needs to be said, just let it out. Today of all days.”

“If you hire Private, we’re obliged to share the results of our investigation. Even if they’re ugly.”

“I know my husband, Jack. I’m not worried about what you might find.”

It was the same confidence exhibited by so many clients, but I’d seen too many people break down when shown detailed evidence of treachery at the hands of a spouse, friend, family or business partner. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

“If I look into this myself, without taking you on as a client—” I began.

“Then you don’t have to share anything unpleasant with me,” Victoria finished my thought. “But then you also aren’t under any obligation to take my instructions or to report back to me the things I need to know.”

She hesitated, and her eyes glistened as she fought for composure.

“I don’t want to be protected, Jack. I want to know the truth about why Karl was killed.” She choked back a sob.