The Boy Who Stole from the Dead

CHAPTER 9

NADIA GOT HOME at 10:30 p.m. She stripped her clothes and jumped in the shower. When she got out, she put on her favorite robe—the one with the pink elephants—and poured herself a glass of chardonnay.

Bobby’s cell phone wouldn’t help Nadia identify who called him. It was locked away with his other personal possessions in prison. Nadia logged onto her wireless phone carrier’s website. Bobby’s cell phone usage appeared under her account as part of her family plan. She knew her ID and password by heart because she paid her bill online. She also monitored Bobby’s usage. The exercise provided unexpected satisfaction. It wasn’t the product of spying. It was a function of responsibility. It was a family plan. She was the head of the family. The title secretly thrilled her, though she never would have admitted it to Bobby. He held things inside. Acted as though discussing emotions was a weakness. Outwardly Nadia disagreed, but deep down she knew she was just like him.

The phone calls and text messages Bobby had received during April appeared under current usage. Nadia studied the phone numbers. She recognized most of them: Derek, Iryna, her office, her cell, their apartment, the Fordham hockey coach, and three other hockey teammates. Iryna’s number appeared more often as time passed. The first of the month she texted him twice. The day Bobby was arrested she texted him twelve times. That bothered her less than it would have before she’d met the girl, but Nadia’s blood pressure still spiked.

Five phone calls were placed to Bobby on the day Iryna said he’d answered the phone and turned white. One was from Nadia, the other from the hockey coach. Nadia didn’t recognize the other three numbers. The first had a 718 area code. Nadia searched the Internet.

Brooklyn.

She dialed the number.

A woman with a Slavic accent answered. “Hello, Café Glechik, how can I help you?”

Nadia entered “Glechik” into the computer and searched. “Are you a restaurant?” she said.

“Yes.” Annoyed now. “How can I help you?”

“Do you do a big takeout business?”

“Yes. What would you like?”

“Thank you.” Nadia hung up.

The search brought up a supposed Ukrainian restaurant in Brighton Beach. The sour cherry dumplings looked tempting, but half the dishes were Russian. The owners were from Odesa near the Black Sea. That explained the Russian influence. That must have been the takeout Iryna and Bobby ate for dinner.

The next number had a 551 area code. Northern New Jersey. Nadia dialed the number.

It rang five times. A man with a gruff voice picked up.

“You called Bobby Kungenook’s cell phone on April eleventh,” Nadia said. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” He paused. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Bobby’s legal guardian. He’s a minor. Do you want to tell me who you are or do you want me to—”

The voice mellowed. “Ms. Tesla?”

“That’s right.”

“This is Tom Dowd. The NHL hockey scout. We met after the game in Coney Island this year.”

Nadia remembered. “Why are you calling Bobby without my knowledge?”

Dowd mumbled an apology. Nadia warned him not to call Bobby without asking her permission first.

“How’s that thing going with his arrest?” Dowd said.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Nadia said. “We’re looking forward to our day in court.”

The third number had an area code of 713. Houston, Texas. That made no sense. Nadia dialed the number and got the automated answering service for the parks and recreation department. That made even less sense.

Nadia checked the log again. The number 44 was printed to the far left of the entry. The country code for England. She searched for international call information on the web. A call from a landline contained ten digits and two to five more for an area code. A call from a mobile phone contained only ten digits. There was no area code. That meant it was a call from a cell phone.

Nadia dialed the number.

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

She cursed under her breath. Prepaid cell phone, she guessed. This was the call that Iryna had described. The one that made Bobby blanch. Valentine was from England. The call came from London. It was too much a coincidence to be anything else.

Afterward she checked his outgoing calls. She found nothing suspicious, leaving her with one logical conclusion based on her previous discovery.

The answers to her questions were in London.