Yuri patted his pocket. “That is not what you told me just a moment ago. You are confused, yes? We will ask Constanta, the hostess. I am sure she will verify the fact that she has seen you here before.”
“That’s impossible.” I spun away from Yuri, ready to head out the door. But he grabbed me so hard and so fast, I was facing him again before I even knew it.
“Nothing is impossible,” he said, his words quiet, like the hiss of a snake. “Not if I say so.”
“But you know I didn’t kill Drago.” Was that my own voice I heard? The one that wavered over the words? It sounded small and afraid. I didn’t like it one bit.
I raised my chin and looked Yuri in the eye. “Quit playing games. You know Beyla’s the one who killed Drago. What do you want?”
I didn’t really need to ask.
“The disc, you stupid woman.” His eyes flashed. But a moment later, he let go of my arm.
“But of course… You cannot realize how important it is.” His gaze whipped back to mine. “That is, unless you have looked at it?”
“I haven’t.” I was getting to be a skilled liar-I never even blinked. “Now here’s the deaclass="underline" the disc in exchange for the receipt.”
Yuri didn’t expect me to drive a hard bargain. His lips curled into something between a sneer and a smile. “I hate to give up the receipt so easily, when I worked so hard to get it in the first place.”
“Worked?” I rolled my eyes. “You snatched it right out of my hand. Like a bully on a playground. You-”
Suddenly, I felt cold settle in the pit of my stomach. “You’ve been trying to get that receipt from me for weeks. That’s why I couldn’t find my purse that night I went to Whitlow’s with Jim. You snatched my purse and looked through it and put it back when you didn’t find the receipt inside. And my apartment-” The cold solidified into ice. “You were there. When Jim and I got there the night I followed Beyla, I thought my things had been moved around. You were in my apartment!”
Yuri shrugged. “I am not a dishonest man,” he said. “But you see how desperate I am. You see how very important this is to me.”
“OK, you wanted the receipt. But why? At the time, you didn’t know-”
“Does it matter?” he snapped. As he fought to calm himself, his teeth clenched and his jaw tensed. “We will make a trade,” he said more quietly this time. “The disc for the receipt.”
Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the bits and pieces of everything Yuri had said. If he knew about the receipt, but he didn’t know if I’d ever find the disc…
I shoved the thoughts aside. Better to stick to one subject than to let Yuri know I was baffled. “So if the disc is that important, why not just let me take it to the police?”
“You will not do that.” The steel in Yuri’s voice made it clear that the subject was not open for discussion. “You will bring it to me. I will call to tell you when and where. And once I have it, I will deal with Beyla.” He turned to walk back into the dining room. “Me. Not the police.”
It simply didn’t make sense. At least not in my mind. “But why?”
When Yuri turned, the smile on his face was so icy, it sent a chill through my body. “Why? The best reason of all… Revenge.”
Eighteen
I DECIDED TO FACE THE MUSIC AND TAKE THE DISC TO the police.
Was it smart?
I honestly didn’t know, especially with Yuri’s threat hanging over my head.
Yuri knew I didn’t kill Drago. I knew I didn’t kill Drago. But the police… well, I liked to think that if Yuri came forward and produced the receipt from Bucharest, the police would need a little more evidence before they locked me up and threw away the key.
Besides, I had bigger things to worry about than a restaurant receipt.
I had to admit that as a detective, I was a failure. Somehow, everything had turned into a gigantic mess. The worst of it was, I was confused about exactly what had happened and where our investigation had gone wrong. If all Yuri needed to establish that Beyla killed Drago was the disc now residing in my Sinatra jewel case, why wasn’t it enough for me to prove that she was guilty? Except for the fact that it was all in Romanian, of course.
But now the stakes were higher. No matter what Yuri said, there was something about him I just couldn’t trust. Something dangerous. Which is why, at some point in the day after I’d run into Yuri at the restaurant-a day in which my stomach was tied in knots and my head pounded like a brass band-I’d decided to let the professionals sort it all out.
As for me… well, I’d probably have enough time to work things through for myself.
Like the three to ten years I’d get for stealing evidence from a crime scene.
That evening after work when I stopped home to collect the disc, I packed a small overnight bag. I wasn’t going to take the chance that they wouldn’t give me a toothbrush when they threw me in the slammer. I stashed my fuzzy slippers in the bag, too, then gave myself a mental slap and pulled them out again. Something told me pink faux fur was not de rigueur in lockdown.
As I zipped up my bag, I noticed my hands were trembling. For about the hundredth time that day, I looked longingly at the phone, wishing I could call Jim. Jim would understand. I couldn’t explain how I knew it, but I was certain in a way that I had never been certain about anything before. Jim would support me. Jim would come to the police station with me, and stand by my side. He’d hold my hand if I asked him.
But I couldn’t ask him, not for any of it.
Not without involving him-and there was no way I was going to do that.
After everything that had happened with Peter, I knew enough not to fall head over heels for any guy. Not too quickly, anyway. But I couldn’t deny that I liked Jim-more than just a little. It wouldn’t be fair to tangle him up in this mess. After all, Jim had plans, and he had ambitions of his own. Someday, he was going to own that upscale restaurant he’d always dreamed about. I wasn’t about to risk embroiling him in my problems.
I set my bag down by the door and went to the living room where I kept my CD player, and what was left of my collection of music after Peter had gotten through raiding it. I grabbed the jewel case with “Sinatra” written on the front of it with the disc we’d found at Miss Magda’s inside, and tucked it in my purse. I took a deep breath and threw my shoulders back, hoping that a big dose of false courage would be enough to keep me going. But no sooner had I turned to the door, when the phone rang. The machine picked up immediately.
“Miss Capshaw. You know who this is.”
Yuri.
“Your little trick, it did not work so good. I am not amused. How stupid you were to think I could be so easily fooled.” He clicked his tongue. “I like Sinatra, but really!”
Sinatra?
It took a second for the pieces to fall into place. When they did, my blood went cold.
With one ear still tuned to the rest of what Yuri had to say, I raced to the bedroom. Sure enough, the jewel case where I’d originally stashed Beyla’s disc was gone. I hadn’t told Eve I’d switched the disc for Sinatra’s greatest hits. And Eve was the only one who had a duplicate key to my apartment. That meant-
I flew back in the living room just in time to hear Yuri say something about a last chance.
“You have only one hour. Then I will be forced to take serious measures.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
I grabbed the phone and hit the Talk button. “Hello? Hello? I’m here. I’m listening. I couldn’t answer in time.”
There was no reply. I cursed myself for being so slow. But then I heard a rustling, as if the phone was being handed from one person to another.