Trusting the Enemy by Sharon Hartley

Author:Sharon Hartley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-02-20T13:18:44+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

MONROE THREW HIS FILE on the table and sat across from Lomonosoff. “I’m Detective Monroe DiSilva. Thanks for coming in.”

Lomonosoff spread his arms. “I am always happy to cooperate with the police,” he said in a cultured voice.

Monroe realized Lomo had worked hard to lose his Russian accent, but a slight lilt remained.

“Good,” Monroe said. “We understand you own the Beautiful Bear Modeling Agency on Ocean Drive.”

“That is correct, Detective.”

“We have a few questions about one of your employees.”

Lomonosoff shook his head, as if distressed to hear that. “You surely know my models are young and prone to get into trouble.” He sighed. “The old saying is true that youth is wasted on the young.”

Monroe nodded his agreement. He’d dug up everything he could find on Lomonosoff. The Russian and his sister Tasha had arrived in this country legally six years ago escaping poverty in Russia. Lomonosoff had been in his twenties—or maybe a little older; the records were sketchy—pursuing a modeling career. He’d done well with print ads, but had never become a superstar.

According to his contact in Vice, the immense wealth Lomo so loved to flaunt came first from prostitution, and then he branched out into drugs. Businesses that relied on cash that needed to be scrubbed clean.

No convictions. Yet.

“Tell me about Todd Ewing,” Monroe said.

“Ah, Todd,” Lomonosoff said, his tone mournful. “I was devastated to learn about his untimely death.” Lomo folded his hands and placed them on the table. “Not only because he had a promising future—and I had invested heavily in his career—but he was a fine young man.”

“Were you aware of his drug use?”

“Alas, that is a common problem with models. They are young, beautiful, living the good life with easy access to cash, offered so many favors, freebies. They often get carried away.”

“So you knew?”

“I warned Todd. Offered him counseling, even a visit to rehab, but he refused.”

“It’s come to our attention that he and his family owed you quite a lot of money.”

Lomonosoff waved that statement away as if it were of no consequence. “An advance against future earnings. As I said, an investment I believed would pay off when his bookings increased.”

“So you believe Ewing’s death was an accidental overdose?”

“Is that not what the medical examiner found?”

“And you have no other information about his death?”

Lomonosoff folded his hands. “I am sorry that I cannot help.”

Monroe looked down at his notes. Lomonosoff managed to avoid answering any question he didn’t want to respond to. Scary smooth. So smooth he was slimy. Perhaps he knew the penalty for lying to the police.

Time to throw him a curve or two.

“Did you know a police officer named Rudy McFadden?”

Lomonosoff’s calm expression didn’t alter. “I do not believe so. Why? Did this officer also die from a drug overdose?”

“No. A motor vehicle accident.”

Lomonosoff dipped his head. “Unfortunate. A loss to your police department, I am sure.”

“When was the last time you were in Russia?”

“Several years I believe,” he said, not even blinking at the change in subject.

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