the room slamming the door behind him.
*****
Two hours later he was presenting his badge for inspection at the gateway leading to the section of Logan Airport set aside for use by privately owned aircraft.
Carl stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up and into Develin’s private jet. ‘Have a good flight Carl. Tell John that I will bring the part for the Daimler back with me,’ Develin said.
‘Dick, look I …’ Carl swallowed hard. ‘You haven’t told me what happened.’
‘Perhaps that is because there is nothing to tell.’ Develin backed up a pace then turned to signal to the pilot. ‘Jamie is eager to get going. I will see you Sunday.’
‘How could she die like that, Dick? What were you doing that could have …’
Develin stared at Carl with pale blue eyes suddenly grown remarkably cold. ‘Why the hell do you care? She was just a whore.’
‘She died of fright, Dick,’ Carl challenged. ‘That’s what I was told.’
‘She died of a fucking heart attack, Emery. Got that?’ Develin backed away, visibly annoyed. The engine noise from the twin jets increased in volume.
Carl Emery shouted overtop of the high pitched scream. ‘What were you doing to her?’ he demanded. Develin said something, a single word lost in the shrill whine.
Carl hurried up the steps and into the aircraft as an airport attendant prepared to close and lock the door. From his window seat he could clearly see Develin as he walked back towards the terminal building. Just before entering he turned and watched the jet as it eased back from its chocks, turned and began to taxi across the tarmac to join the queue waiting at runway 4R-22L, outbound.
Carl leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Moments later they opened with a start as the single word Develin had uttered came through to him, stripped now of all of its background noise … PRACTICING.
*****
‘Yours I presume?’
Develin spun around. ‘It was my understanding that our business was concluded, Inspector.’
Yakinchuk shrugged then smiled. ‘I merely came down to ensure that you and yours were safely on their way out of my fair city.’ He paused as Develin sidestepped around him. ‘We don’t like your sort here, Develin.’
Slowly, almost reluctantly Develin turned to confront Yakinchuk, taking in the substance of him in one swift glance. Despite himself, Yakinchuk felt his heart skip a beat as Develin’s eyes met his own. ‘And what precisely do you mean by that?’
‘I had a wee chat with Nigel Rogers; the Chief Coroner. Apparently Miss Kojak had enough semen in her to float a good-size barge. Active it was too - very.’
Develin’s eyes narrowed. ‘I have no time for this. The investigation is concluded Inspector in case you missed the directive from your boss, and the Mayor.’
Yakinchuk continued, despite the warning tone of Develin’s voice. ‘You know, it’s strange. As rich as you are you would think that you could afford two girls; one for you and one for Emery.’ He smiled maliciously. ‘Off night was it for you?’
Develin turned on his heel and stormed across the terminal corridor and through a set of doors to his waiting car - a chauffeur-driven limousine. Yakinchuk followed in his wake. Fifteen feet from the car Develin halted then turned to confront Yakinchuk.
‘The death of Miss Kojak is indeed unfortunate, but as I understand it, she had no family and was in fact a ward of Merhot Capritzo. Is that correct?’ Yakinchuk nodded. ‘I also understand that Capritzo knew of her delicate condition so, perhaps you might wish to talk with him.’ Develin smiled, although there was precious little warmth to it. ‘Capritzo is, I believe, a resident of your fair city so I am sure there will be a natural amity. For my part, I have seen to a proper funeral for the girl. Under the circumstances, I think I have been more than generous. Now Inspector, if you will excuse me.’
‘You murdered her, you bastard.’
‘Be very careful Yakinchuk in your choice of words, particularly when dealing with me.’ Develin reached inside his jacket, pulled out a silver cigarette case and selected a handmade, unfiltered cigarette from the row. He regarded Yakinchuk evenly as he tapped the cigarette on the side of the case before lighting it. ‘I would offer you one but you don’t indulge, do you, in this particular vice?’
‘You know nothing about me.’
‘Please, don’t ever make the mistake of underestimating me.’ Develin blew cigarette smoke out through tightened lips. ‘I could see you coming leagues away.’
‘I could have you arrested now. A sample of semen would prove that it was you who was with Susan Kojak and not Emery.’
Develin took a deep drag from his cigarette. ‘Too late Yakinchuk, the case is closed.’
‘It’s fucking closed when I say it is,’ Yakinchuk snapped.
Develin sighed as he reached once more inside his jacket pocket, this time extracting a small notebook. He opened it. ‘Victor Nicholas Yakinchuk, born Warsaw, Poland, November first, 1940 to Stanis and Marie Yavinchuk - your father changed the family name just prior to arrival in the new world.’ He regarded his adversary evenly as he continued. ‘Despite your father’s considerable intellect and level of education, he took up employment with an obscure shoe manufacturing firm in New Bedford, Massachusetts. Curious, until one realizes that obscurity was just what he wanted, particularly if his activities during the war should come under close scrutiny.’
Yakinchuk started. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘You don’t know?’ Develin smiled. ‘Then I shall tell you, in brief, since the details should, under the circumstances, be addressed by your father. Briefly told, your father collaborated with the Germans. In fact, Stanis Yavinchuk was extremely instrumental in assisting the SS in rounding up more than a representative sample of the Jewish population and seeing them into the ghetto. Anyone who has studied their history knows what happened to the inhabitants of the Warsaw ghetto in 1942.’
Develin drew one final drag from his cigarette before dropping it, crushing its life out with the toe of his shoe. Yakinchuk stared open-mouthed. ‘Of course, if you don’t believe me Inspector then by all means talk with your father but, I would do so soon since, as I understand it, he is not in good health.’
‘You fucking bastard,’ Yakinchuk growled. ‘I’ll have you, you murdering son of a bitch!’
‘Ah,’ Develin erupted, in mild surprise, ‘you continue to skate on the moral high ground, totally oblivious of the danger. Pity. Then you will excuse me if I tighten the screws, but remember no one invited you here.
‘Betty Winston - name sound familiar? She was
