Chapter 8
The house had a for sale sign in the yard, faded from the sun. Ivan approached the entrance, and after punching in the codes to the pass lock, opened the door. Elena and Detective Bush went in first. Ivan held the door for me.
The house had stale air, and I detected another familiar smell. “This place smells bleachy.”
“The real estate agent insisted that the place get cleaned up as soon as we took photos and we cleared the crime scene,” Bush said.
Ivan pointed to the bedroom where the murder occurred.
I walked in, and took out the photos from the brief case I brought to get a better idea where the body of Hannah King lay. The small bedroom was a standard square shape with two windows equally distant from each other. “Is the carpet new?”
“Yes,” Ivan answered. “The realtor also painted the window sill. You should have a photo of some scratches on it.” As he said that, I skimmed through the photos and found which ones he was talking about. “We think she crawled to the window, choking, and left those marks.”
Elena made a slight hand gesture to Ivan. I knew what that meant.
Stop talking.
I walked around the rest of the house so I could find the answer to the real question I had in my mind: how does someone get in or out? Although I didn’t have to prove Frank’s innocence, finding reasons for jurors to have reasonable doubt helped.
The house had two exits: the front entrance where we came through and the sliding doors that opened up to the back yard. The sliding doors could be easily pried. Frank’s claim of innocence wasn’t so unbelievable.
I put the papers and pen I had back in my case, and said, “Okay, I’m done.”
We all walked out. Ivan made sure the door closed behind us, and the pass lock worked before he got back into his car. As we walked back to his vehicle, I got a good look at Ivan. He hadn’t changed since we first met about four years ago. He still wore a short haircut. The slight fold of his eyes betrayed his Eurasian ancestry in Russia. He stood shorter than Noah, but was stockier. Elena and Bush left the driveway first.
Ivan followed and asked, “So are you seeing someone?”
After the initial shock wore off, I answered. “No, too busy with work and stuff.”
“You know, if you have any questions about this case, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thanks, Ivan, though I’m not sure how Elena would like that.”
“Is she going to be the prosecutor in this case? Considering she’s your ex-wife? Isn’t there a conflict in that?”
“Nope,” I said. “You should know this.” I stopped realizing my statement sounded sarcastic. I wanted to keep it professional. “Her interest is to prosecute Frank for a crime. I represent Frank; my job is to ensure that the evidence is there to convict him.”
“Still it must make you uncomfortable that your ex-wife is trying this case against you.”
“Not at all. In fact, Elena’s not a prosecutor I’d be worried about holding back evidence.”
We stopped at the railroad crossing as the gate bars came down. As the train started its long crossing, Ivan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Ivan, what happened with the job at Tampa Police?
“As a patrol officer, you don’t make a lot of money. I found out this job at Pineridge opened up, and I took it. Same pay, less work. Now I just got promoted to detective. If I’d stayed in Tampa, I’d be competing with five hundred other people for a detective spot.”
I nodded.
Ivan added. “I think I know what you’re thinking. Why Pineridge? I actually like the small town feel. My grandparents lived in a small town in Russia before my parents and I left. I love small towns.”
“Have you gone back to visit?”
“I have. My mother moved back and I visit her once a year, usually after Christmas when the flights are cheaper.”
“Must be freezing there that time of year.”
“Yeah, it’s below freezing since she lives between St. Petersburg and Moscow. But I also try to time my flights to visit my brother who lives in Dubai.”
Ivan’s eyes locked on me. “All right, I’ve talked about myself. Let’s talk about you. You told me that you would never leave Elena because of your daughter. And I find out a few days ago, when the news reports came out that you had been shot, that you’re divorced.”
Is that the lie I told him?
“I left Elena because it was the right time. I didn’t want to keep living a lie.”
“So did you ever tell Elena about us?”
“No, but I could.”
“What does that mean?”
“If Elena asks, I’m not going to hide it. Not when my client’s innocence is involved.”
“Well, that might mean I’m off this case. And your easy source of information dries up.”
“Why would you want to help me in this case?”
Ivan smiled, took off his sunglasses so I could see his eyes. “If you have to ask, you’re not as smart as I think you are.”
The railroad track gate rose, but Ivan remained quiet. He drove over the hill, and in less than a minute we were back at the station. I left his car and stepped over to my old BMW parked in the next lane. I put my briefcase in the backseat and grabbed my own sunglasses.
After shaking hands and saying good-byes, Ivan and Gary left.
Elena approached me as the detectives walked to the station. Squinting at the sun behind me, she asked, “So, how do you know Ivan again?”
“He was a witness in a traffic homicide case I had in the PD’s office, right before I went to Anton’s firm. My guy took off in a high speed chase, crossed over to Tampa, and killed a pedestrian near Ybor City.” I paused, averting Elena’s stare.
“So, that’s the extent of your dealings with him?” She knitted her eyebrows. “Because it looked pretty chummy.”
I didn’t want to tell her the truth: that Ivan had been a f**k buddy who wanted more. He texted me constantly for two weeks after I told him I couldn’t see him after the two or three times we hooked up.
I took a quick breath. Putting on my sunglasses before I answered, I said, “Yeah, that’s the extent of it.”
I didn’t want to lie, but I figured I might need Ivan’s help in order to help Frank, and to help me get paid.