Ivanoff: No, sir. She was a decent woman. A good woman. Just trying to make ends meet like the rest of us.
Sharpe: And when you drove her back to her apartment building in the city, was there anything inappropriate, or shall I say, intimate, about the encounter?
Ivanoff: No, sir. I’m a married man, sir.
Sharpe: What did you talk about on the drive back to Seattle?
Ivanoff: She said she had to make a very hard decision. Sounded like relationship trouble, if you ask me. I didn’t ask her many questions. She didn’t seem to want to talk much. But she did say something about one of the ladies at the house she had been at, that she hadn’t been kind to her. We both agreed that rich folks can sometimes be as mean as the devil himself.
Sharpe: So you got the impression that someone had been unkind to Miss Ray in the Windermere neighborhood where she had been visiting?
Ivanoff: Yes, sir. She was shaken up. You could tell she’d been crying. I felt sorry for her.
Sharpe: All right. So you dropped her off at the apartment building, and that was it?
Ivanoff: Yes, sir. I only saw her off and on after that. I’d tip my cap at her. Once I fixed a loose brick in her fireplace.
Sharpe: Why did you help her with it?
Ivanoff: The landlord was a real tyrant. Made the tenants pay for repairs themselves. I helped as many people as I could. After the storm, a branch from the cherry tree outside hit one of the old lady’s windows. She couldn’t pay for the repair bill, so she had to live without a window. I had some scrap wood in the truck, so I boarded it shut for her. Cold as an icebox, that apartment.
Sharpe: It sounds as if you were the unofficial handyman of the building.
Ivanoff: You could say so. Somebody had to help those poor folks. I tried to lend a hand whenever I could.
Sharpe: And when you fixed Miss Ray’s fireplace, did you get any indication that she was trying to proposition you?
Ivanoff: Heavens, no. Like I said, she was a decent woman. Besides, by the time I visited her apartment to fix the fireplace, she had a newborn baby. I was surprised at first. I didn’t even know she was expecting. She was such a little thing. Seemed hard to believe she could have carried a child. Besides, I’d never seen a man around her place. Not once. But it was her business. I didn’t ask questions. She loved that little baby. Cooed at him the whole time I was workin’.
Sharpe: Did she tell you the child’s name?
Ivanoff: Why, yes, sir. She called him Daniel.
Sharpe: And was there any monetary exchange for your services?
Ivanoff: No, sir. She tried to give me the last few coins from her pocketbook, but I wouldn’t accept them. She offered me a slice of bread instead. That was nice. The missus had been sick, and hadn’t baked bread in weeks.
Sharpe: Can we clear something up about your record now? You were arrested previously for allegedly striking your wife during a bout of drunkenness. Can you explain what happened?
Ivanoff: It’s true that I drink more than I should. But I would never lay a hand on my wife, or any woman, for that matter.
Sharpe: Then what happened the night your wife was harmed?
Ivanoff: I was at the saloon down below the apartment. It had been a long day. I had drunk more than my share of ale. My wife came down to find me, to bring me home. One of the men at the bar didn’t like seeing a woman in the place. He called her a terrible name, he did.
Sharpe: What did he call her?
Ivanoff: An ugly Russian. Pointed to her fingers, and called them fat, fat as pierogies, he said. Made her cry. I couldn’t let him speak to my wife that way. So I stood up to tell him what I thought of him, and he popped his fist at me, straight at my jaw. Lost a tooth that night.
Sharpe: Can you please stand and show the court which tooth?
Ivanoff: Sure thing. It’s this one right here. Fell right out. I never did find it.
Sharpe: Mr. Ivanoff, can you tell me what happened to your wife that night? Why was she taken to the hospital?
Ivanoff: She tried to break up the fight, and that bastard hit her. She got hurt real bad.