Enemy on the Inside by John Morrow

Author:John Morrow [Morrow, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-21T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Folds loved to try different ethnic foods. He had a favorite restaurant for most: his Italian spot was a little place called Filomena, Asian was BiBap, Mexican was a food truck called Rito Loco. His favorite Russian restaurant was located across the street from the American University, which he always found to be a little ironic.

Many years before he had conducted a city-wide search for the best beef stroganoff in the city. After trying many he settled on a little place called Babushka’s and had been going there every other week for the past 12 years. It had nine tables and a small bar with six chairs, where he liked to sit, and was open every day of the week. He knew the owners well and had made many other friends during his visits there. One that had become very important to him over the years was a man named Timo Curitan.

Timo looked a lot like Santa Claus – white beard, rosy cheeks and a big belly that jiggled when he laughed, which was often. He was the happiest person Folds had ever met. He was also very connected within the Russian mob. Both were aware of what the other did for a living but had achieved a mutual respect over their favorite topic: food. Curitan wanted the Russian mob to be run more like a real business and had little patience for the direction the younger generation wanted to take it, which included more drugs, violence and murder. He had assisted Folds on a few cases in the past where he felt the line had been crossed.

After hearing what Newman had to say, Pete decided he needed to make a trip to Babushka’s in the off chance of catching Timo. He was hoping his friend could answer some questions for him and help him get closer to solving this case. He drove from the White House to the restaurant along Massachusetts Avenue. He liked this route because of the round-abouts along the way. For some reason he always felt these were more civilized than a stop sign.

He found parking about a half-block away from Babushka’s and eased the car into the spot. He dodged traffic while crossing the street and entered the dim restaurant with a little bell announcing his presence. He quickly scanned the small room and saw he had gotten lucky, Timo was in his favorite spot, the last chair on the bar. He slid onto the chair next to Curitan and slapped him on his shoulder. “Hi, Timo.”

Curitan turned his head and fixed his eyes on Folds, in his thick Russian accent he roared, “Pete! Good to see you my friend. This isn’t your usual day. What do we owe for this?”

“I had a craving for some stroganoff that wouldn’t go away and had to come in. Do you mind if I join you?”

“I welcome the company. Here, let us get you some food.” He called out to the waitress, “Dasha, please bring our friend Pete a plate of your stroganoff.

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