The Wrong Man

53

I took the call in my office. “This is Jason Kolarich,” I said.

“Mr. Kolarich.” It was a woman’s voice, thick with an Eastern European accent. Russian or something like that. Mee-ster Kolareech.

“My name is Sasha Maldonov. Do you know who I am?”

I only knew what Marie had told me. “You knew Lorenzo Fowler.”

“Yes. I loved him. When he was… When they shot him, he’d come from my apartment.”

I didn’t know that. The police wouldn’t tell me what Lorenzo had been doing on West Arondale the night he was murdered.

“Go on,” I said.

“I am in danger. I know this. I cannot stay at my home. They think that Lorenzo told me things. Things I… should not know.” There was background traffic noise on her end of the phone. She was on a cell phone or a pay phone, if pay phones even exist anymore.

“Did he?” I asked, my pulse kicking up.

She paused. “Can you… protect me?”

“I’ll protect you,” I promised, which was a bit reckless of me. “Tell me what you know.”

“I know many things. Lorenzo knew I would not tell. He knew I would keep his secrets. But now…” Another, longer pause followed. Car horns honking.

“You’re afraid they want to kill you for the same reason they killed Lorenzo,” I gathered. “So the best thing for you to do is testify for me. Once it’s said publicly, there’s no reason to kill you.”

Clearly, she’d come to the same conclusion. “Can we meet?” she asked.

“Yes. Anytime,” I said. “Right away.”

Another pause. I had a moment of pause myself. I had to be sure this woman was legit. “Prove to me you’re who you say you are,” I said.

“Prove this to you? Lorenzo told you about me, no?”

“No,” I said.

“Ah. Well…”

“Why are you calling me?” I asked.

“Because Lorenzo went to you. He did not want to speak with the usual lawyers that he was given. He wanted someone who was not connected to the… family.”

That was true enough. “What did we discuss?”

“He told you… that he could provide the identity of someone. He wanted protection.”

“Whose identity?” I asked.

Another pause. “Not over… the phone,” she said.

I suppose I couldn’t blame her. And I didn’t want to push her too hard. I didn’t know where she was, and she could hang up this phone and disappear forever. It was a delicate dance, and I was getting desperate. She needed me, but I needed her more.

“Gin Rummy,” she said. “He told you he had proof.”

I closed my eyes. Lorenzo Fowler had said those very words to me-he had proof.

“Are you now satisfied?” she asked me.

“Tell me where you are,” I said eagerly. “I’ll leave right now.”