Part 8 (1/2)
He grinned wolfishly ”I trust no one but Boris and Irina. But you, a little, yes. I have a question for you. Private question.”
”Shoot.” I was impatient to work the conversation around to Corinne. I didn't have long to wait.
”Someone from Solveto's tells me,” he said, ”that Corinne Campbell is almost drowning. She fell from pier at your party?”
”Almost drowned,” I corrected automatically. Boris liked help with his English. ”Well, she ended up in the water, yes. I'm not sure how.”
”She is all right now?”
”Yes, she's all right. She was in the hospital overnight-”
”This I know! I hear of it in the morning and I think, I should go to her bedside! She needs me! But I don't go.”
”Why not? You two were pretty close for a while.”
He gave a rumbling growl. ”Not close enough, for Corinne.”
”Yes, you mentioned that she wanted to get married. That's not so unreasonable, is it?”
”Unreasonable all of a sudden!” he protested. ”We are having fun, we are making frequent love, then like that”-he snapped his fingers-”she is different voman. Tears, sighing, no making love, merry me, merry me.”
”And why didn't you want to marry her?”
He shrugged. ”If I wanted or not wanted, no difference. I am merried already.”
”Boris!” I exclaimed, forgetting Corinne momentarily. ”You and I... we... you're married?! Why didn't you tell me?”
He waved his arms and the biedermeier nearly went flying. ”Do not shout at me, Kharnegie! Did you vant to merry me? Did you?”
”That's not the point.”
”No, you did not vant. So what does it matter to you if I have wife in St. Petersburg? Besides, I have asked her for divorce.”
”Did you tell Corinne that?”
”Of course not! Would only encourage her.”
I gave up. ”OK, just tell me this. Do you think Corinne was so upset about breaking up with you that she would try to commit suicide?”
”She fell on purpose?”
”I really don't know. I'd like to help her out, if I can.”
Boris pursed his lips, giving the question judicious thought. ”Why drown? Why not shoot?”
”You mean shoot herself? For starters, she'd need a gun-”
”She has gun.”
”She does?”
He nodded. ”For protection, for woman living alone. Liddle gun, but she had lessons for it. Bring more tea.”
When I returned with his gla.s.s, he was frowning intently as he tucked florets of hydrangea in a final lacy ring around the sweetheart roses. ”Of course, Corinne is upset when we break up. I am magnificent lover, she said so. Why did you not ever say how magnificent I am, Kharnegie?”
”It must have slipped my mind. Seriously, Boris, would Corinne drown herself over losing you?”
The blue-flame eyes narrowed. ”Seriously... no. To drown for love, you must have a big soul, a Russian soul. Corinne, she is perfect for fun, but her soul is small. It must be that she fell. You are sure she is not harmed? You are the one who I can ask.”
”I promise, I saw her with my own eyes. Her priest was taking her home. Maybe you should call her?” If someone really tried to kill Corinne, she could use some big, strong company. And who knows, maybe there were divorce papers on the way from St. Petersburg. ”I'm sure she'd like to see you.”
”No, no, no. I wish her to be well, I do not wish her to be with me. Not now.” He lifted the biedermeier and twirled it in one hand, an exquisite little carousel. Then he strode across the room to a rack of ribbon spools and pulled off two lengths, one of narrow pink brocade and the other of white velvet cord. He twisted the two loosely together and tied them in an intricate bow around the stems, leaving four long fluttering strands. Then he presented the finished bouquet to me.
”As I said, it's charming.”
”It is yours.”
”Mine? Boris, that's for a bride!”
”I make her another.” He pressed it into my hands. ”This one is yours.”
I lifted the flowers to my face, pink and cream and misty blue with a heavenly scent. ”But why?”
He reached over and touched my cheek. ”Because Kharnegie, your soul is not so small. You are in love these days?”
”No! Well, maybe. Maybe I am.”
”I thought so. Be happy, Kharnegie.”
Irina's twinkling eyes followed me as I left with the bouquet, and I caught some admiring glances on my way back to the van. I set the flowers carefully on the seat beside me, and was so entranced with them as I pulled out of the lot that at first I thought the hideous clanking noise was coming from somewhere else. But no, it was Vanna White, issuing a violent racket that didn't stop even when I hit the brakes and pulled to the curb. The clamor was unbearable, which I found out later is not unusual when an engine throws a piston rod that impales the oil pan like an arrow through an apple.
People up and down the block stopped to stare as Vanna gave a final bang! and expired in agony. A gray-haired woman rushed out of a T-s.h.i.+rt shop, her eyes huge with alarm.
”What was that noise? Was it a gunshot?”
”No, ma'am,” I said sadly. ”That was the sound of h.e.l.l freezing over.”
Chapter Twelve.
”WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, YOU THREW A ROD?” ”It probably means a couple thousand dollars.” ”Good heavens, Carrie! Do you have enough money?” I do now. ”Don't worry, Mom. I've got it covered.” It was Tuesday, the day after my visit to Nevsky Brothers, and Mom had called to chat. Having just gotten off the phone with Pete, my mechanic, I unwisely mentioned to her that Vanna was due for major surgery. As I sat in my living room, admiring the biedermeier bouquet, I hastened to find a less alarming topic.
”Listen, Mom, you'll like this. I'm going to be a bridesmaid for one of my clients.”
”Oh, fun!” My mother had a somewhat oversimplified view of what I did for a living, so she saw no problem in my pulling double-duty for Elizabeth. She also believed that I had a lovely figure. ”Is it the Christmas wedding?”
”No, the November one, at the Experience Music Project.”