he wasn’t above embellishing a story just to make it even more interesting. He was a professional rumor mill on an island full of people eager to encourage him.
“What kind of things?” Leo asked. He seemed intrigued, but I guess that was to be expected. I mean, the concept of a criminal on the island was exciting, but I’d need to warn him to take everything Dmitri said with a block of salt. And follow it with tequila and a lime.
Dmitri adjusted his hat. “Well, I don’t like to kiss and tell, but I’ve been known to have a dalliance here and there with gals who work up at the Imperial Hotel.”
“You mean like hookers?” Leo’s eyes widened.
“We do not have hookers on Wenniway Island!” This time it was my voice that carried, but fortunately no one seemed to be paying any attention to me. As usual.
“No, no. Not hookers,” Dmitri said. “Housekeepers, waitresses, cashiers. Working girls but not, you know . . . working girls. Anyway, I had a lovely little interlude with a maid two summers ago, and she told me about some very interesting items she’d once seen in a guest’s room.”
“Such as?” I demanded.
“A bag full of identification badges. Driver’s licenses and passports with the same photo but different names. And some tools that she didn’t recognize, but when she described them to me, I told her they sounded like lock-picking tools.”
“Seriously?” I looked at him intently, trying to discern if this was honest-to-goodness fact or his unique brand of fiction. “Dmitri, if that’s true, she should go talk to my dad.”
“Alas, she’s gone. She left the island at the end of that summer, and I haven’t spoken to her since. This may sound cavalier, but I can’t recall the dear thing’s last name. It was a brief yet passionate affair.” He took a big gulp from his drink.
“And you never told my dad? Or hotel security? How is that even possible?”
“She was afraid she’d lose her job if anyone found out that she’d gone through a guest’s belongings. Apparently, the items weren’t left out in the open. They were zipped up inside of a suitcase. I didn’t tell anyone, because I was protecting a dear friend.” He gave me a sideways glance as if to remind me that he was indeed capable of keeping a secret. He’d been keeping one for me for quite some time now.
“That’s wild,” Leo said, seeming to be fully engaged. “Did she say what name he was checked in under? Or the names on the other ID cards? Maybe it’s some jewel thief we would have heard of. Like somebody famous.”
As much as I hated to be any part of this discussion, I found myself drawn in. “The private investigator said one of his names was James Novak.”
Dmitri set his glass down. “He said James Novak?”
I nodded. “Yes, and the pictures he had were from the eighties. Sound familiar?”
He stared at his drink as if deep in thought. “No. I’ve never heard of a James Novak, and I don’t remember my friend mentioning any names, either. Wait. Maybe she said he was checked in as a Michael Jones?”
Leo leaned closer still. “Michael Jones. There’s got to be a million of those around. Did she tell you what the guy looked like?”
Dmitri took a slow sip from his glass, eyeing Leo over the brim. “I don’t recall, exactly. Maybe she said he was short and stocky? And swarthy. You saw pictures, Brooke? What do you think he looked like?”
“Grainy and pale. The pictures were pretty much useless. But seriously, Dmitri, you need to share this with my dad. If you are, indeed, telling the truth.”
He had the nerve to look affronted, as if we didn’t all know his propensity for exaggeration. It would be just like him to insert himself into the drama just for the fun of it, and my dad would not want to be bothered with some tall tale from bored, overly imaginative Dmitri. But if what he said was true, then my father definitely needed to know.
“Of course I’m telling the truth. What possible reason could I have for making that up?”
“No reason at all,” I said, as both an agreement and a warning.
“Exactly.” He stood up. “And now you have insulted me and besmirched my good name. I shall leave in a huff.” He wasn’t actually insulted. I knew him better than that. He was leaving because he’d already told me his little anecdote about the