Free Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation, Vol. 2 by Michael Genelin

returned to the woman who had held a gun to his head. “We know nothing about her. Believe me, we turned the country upside-down. Nothing.”
    “So you stopped looking.”
    “When he died, there was no reason to look any further.” Grisko laughed. He watched the expression on Jana’s face, enjoying the fact that she didn’t quite comprehend what he was saying.
    “You thought you had the first case in which he died. No. I did.” He continued watching her face as she tried to piece what he was saying together with the facts she had.
    “Died? You mean in Slovakia?”
    “Here. In Kiev. Seven years after the ice-pick murder. Near the monastery; everybody knows the place. All the tourists go to see those dead monks in the catacombs. You should go there. Quite a sight. I went there as a boy. Frightened me when I realized even holy men die.” He ran his fingers through his hair, patting a few strands down, then wiped the hair oil off his fingers onto the tablecloth. “He was killed in a collision with a fuel truck. The driver was killed as well. Bad fire. Identification by documents.”
    “Just like the Slovak burning.”
    “Maybe he was killed here? Maybe in Slovakia? I’ll tell you what: I’ll let your country have the credit.”
    “Maybe he was not killed anywhere.” Jana thought about the crash in Slovakia, then came back to Ukraine. “Witnesses?”
    “One, a monk from the monastery. Out on some errand for his patriarch. The monk saw the crash. The car came down the street, slid on the ice, and boom! Accident. The monk’s name is in the reports. He would seem to have been a reputable witness.”
    “I can find him at the monastery?”
    “He drank himself to death a short time after the crash. By mistake: He drank cleaning fluid.”
    “A bad way to die.”
    “All ways to die are bad.”
    “You are sure he drank the cleaning fluid without being coaxed into it?”
    “You know better than to ask that. There are no crystal balls in our pockets. I practice police work, not astrology. In this business, there is nothing sure.”
    “Did you believe Koba was dead?”
    “At first, I thought, possibly. I wanted him to be dead. After the monk died, not so much possible. Now, maybe no.”
    Her business with Grisko was over. Not very satisfactory, but a piece of information or two. Koba was taking shape. Jana looked at the dance floor to invite Mikhail and Adriana back to the table. They were not there.
    She quickly checked the rest of the club. The B-girls were no longer sitting at the bar; the waiters were gone. There were no other customers. The room was empty except for her and Grisko. A flicker of fear went through her.
    “Grisko, get up!!” She stood. Grisko, a little bewildered, stayed seated.
    Jana reached over and pulled him to his feet. “Everyone is gone, Grisko. No one is here but you and me.” She let him go, yelling for Mikhail and Adriana.
    Grisko looked around, comprehension suddenly dawning. Frightened and wide-eyed, he came out of his seat as if he had been ejected. “Bad!! We have to get out.”
    He started to go for the front door. Jana grabbed him. “Through the kitchen, not the front.” Grisko responded by bolting toward the kitchen, with Jana following him.
    The pouter pigeon ran surprisingly fast as they scrambled through the kitchen area. Food was still steaming in the pots. There were no cooks. “Everybody is gone.” Grisko ran even faster, scuttling through the rear door.
    The two of them skidded into a dark alley, Grisko caroming off a garbage can, sliding to his knees, scrabbling to his feet again as they ran toward the light in the nearest side street. As soon as they reached it Jana saw Mikhail and Adriana leaning against a car across the road. Jana ran toward them; Grisko followed.
    “Up the street!! We need to go further up.”
    Mikhail immediately reacted to Jana’s sense of urgency. He didn’t wait for Adriana to respond. The huge man picked up his wife and carried her an