Private Moscow

Chapter 74

I was in the library with Dinara when Leonid returned to the Residence. We were checking through the photographs Justine had sent us of Karl Parker as a child. Victoria had taken his album of childhood pictures to Private New York, and Justine had had them scanned and sent to Dinara’s secure email.

There were baby photos, pictures of Karl as a young child, then there was a gap that started when he was around seven years old, the same time as his parents’ accident. The pictures resumed when he was a teenager, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. I wondered what had happened to my friend in those intervening years, and kept returning to the image of him, Elizabeth Connor and Ernie Fisher in the Novoko Bar in Volkovo.

“I made the offer,” Leonid said, taking a seat at the neighboring table. “Then I checked on the surveillance team watching Erik Utkin. They say he’s definitely supplying the dealers. He has eight teams selling drugs throughout Kapotnya.”

“They documenting it?” I asked.

“Of course,” Leonid replied. “Gathering everything they can on camera.”

“And will Anna Bolshova get us what we need?” Dinara asked.

“I think so,” Leonid replied. “She needs a win to get out of trouble with her superiors.” He looked at his watch. “Anyone hungry?” he asked. “Lunch finishes soon. Or do you just live on clues and paperwork?”

Dinara smiled and got to her feet. I was about to follow when my phone rang. It was Justine.

“Go ahead,” I told them. “I’ll catch up.”

They left the library as I answered.

“I managed to get hold of the chief of police of Clarion,” Justine said. “He was the officer on duty the night Karl Parker’s parents died. I’ve got him on the line now.”

“Patch him through,” I said.

“Hold on.”

The line went dead, and a moment later I heard a voice.

“Mr. Morgan?” a man said.

“Yes.”

“This is Chief Wilson. Your colleague, Miss Smith, left a message for me to call yesterday,” he said. “I got tied up with one thing or another, so my apologies. You’re first on my list today.”

“Thanks for phoning, chief,” I said. “Must be early.”

“Six a.m.,” he replied. “But you know what they say about a man being early to rise. Apparently it should make me wise as a hooting owl. How can I help you, Mr. Morgan?”

“I want to ask you about an accident that happened thirty-five years ago,” I said. “The Parkers.”

“Your colleague mentioned something about it in her message. I remember it vividly. It was the first fatal accident I attended as a rookie. You never forget your first fatality.”

“Was there any evidence of foul play?” I asked.

“No. None. The other driver was drunk. He overtook a truck out on the thirty-five and hit the Parkers head-on. There were no survivors,” Chief Wilson replied. “What’s this about?”

“We’re investigating the death of Karl Parker,” I said.

“The New York Stock Exchange shooting? I saw that,” Chief Wilson remarked. “That’s odd. Is he related to them?”

I felt the hairs on my neck rise. That wasn’t a question I’d expected. Something wasn’t right.

“He’s their child,” I said. “His parents were Ken and Delores Parker.”

“That’s impossible,” Chief Wilson replied. “Their son was in the back of the car when it was hit. Karl Parker died at the scene of the crash with his parents.”