on the wall in Russia. He’d explained that during the winter everyone’s apartments were very cold due to the concrete walls. Using wool carpets for heat insulation became popular among the poor. And even though the walls were concrete, they were thin. A person could hear quarreling neighbors on one side and crying children on the other. The carpets served as soundproof material too.
Many of the rugs in Yuri’s place were half dangling on the walls. The people had exerted a lot of energy to yanking them up and looking under them.
I took a few more steps, making sure not to trip over all the stuff on the ground.
What were they searching for?
There was an antique table turned over on its side by the window. Two framed photographs lay on the floor.
“This was recent. I talked his mother yesterday morning.” Boris put the table back. “I always check on her.”
I picked both photographs up and looked at them. One showed a teenaged Yuri in an ice hockey uniform. Another was what I assumed to be of his mother, father, and Yuri. His mother had blonde hair and blue eyes. A black man stood next to him in green and purple African garb. Yuri stood in the middle of them and must’ve been ten years old.
I set the framed pictures back on the table. “Did Yuri’s mother say anybody had come by?”
“No. She said she was going to start helping my mother at the shelter. That she was so sad and needed something to do.”
“This is more than a struggle between a woman and a robber.” I stepped over a toppled lounge chair. “They were looking for something.”
Scowling, Boris scanned the place. “I should have gone to see her, when I came back.”
“Don’t blame yourself. I kept you busy.”
“I could’ve sent someone or—”
“Don’t do that. It’s not your fault. What’s done is done.” I stopped in front of the turned over shelf. All of its contents spread across the floor—several cracked potted plants, a bible written in Russian, some figurines of dolls. “We’ll find out who did this and kill them. Don’t worry about it.”
“Whoever murdered Yuri’s mother. . .I would like to deal with them personally.”
“You got it, Boris.” I looked forward. “Where’s his mother at?”
“In the kitchen. She was cooking breakfast, when they did it. Sometime yesterday. It must’ve been after our phone call.”
I shook my head. “Yesterday morning?”
“When did you make the phone call?”
“Before we entered Kazimir’s office.”
“People were around?”
“Everyone except Max and you. All the top brothers. I wasn’t speaking loud, but I did tell her sorry about Yuri’s passing and that I would come by to talk to her.”
“Someone heard you and didn’t want you to find something.”
“I hope to God that is not the reason she’s dead.”
There was no security system. No intruder alarm. No pads, no wires. No automatic call to the nearest police precinct. No way of telling if the murder had been long or not.
I pulled out my phone and walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen smelled faintly of cooked vegetables and stewed coffee. It was small, halfway between tidy and untidy. A well-used space. They hadn’t searched this room much. Whatever they were looking for, they assumed it would have been in the living room or probably the bedroom.
Did they find it?
I dialed Kaz.
At the first ring, Kaz’s deep voice came on. “Mysh, are you okay?”
“I am. I just need your cops. How do I get them?”
“What do you need them for?”
I stopped in front of Yuri’s dead mother. She had long gray hair and wore a blue and red flannel nightgown. She was on her side. Her arms and legs had sprawled in a way that made it look like she was running. One side of her head was caved in.
They hit her with something.
I could see blood and brains matted in her hair. More dried blood had pooled on the floor. It looked dark and sticky.
A flipped over pot of porridge was next to her and mixed into the blood. All had dried. I guessed the blood on the floor was at least fifthteen hours old. But it was impossible to be precise.
I squatted down and got a closer look.
Kaz’s voice disrupted my thoughts. “Mysh?”
“Someone killed Yuri’s mother. They were looking for something. I’m in his apartment.” I leaned over and looked at her head. “She was hit with something hard and heavy. Just a single blow, but a serious one.”
I scanned the space, searching for the weapon.
Boris walked around