The Boy Who Stole From the Dead by Orest Stelmach Read Free Book Online

name’s Iryna. She’s Russian.”
    Nadia blushed. She could feel Meredith’s eyes all over her, judging her for not being intimately familiar with every aspect of Bobby’s life. And Nadia agreed. She thought she’d known about everything Bobby did, but clearly she’d been kidding herself.
    “How did he meet her?” Nadia said.
    “I don’t know,” Derek said.
    Trent pointed a finger at Derek. “Son, you think you’re helping Bobby by keeping a secret? You’re not. It’s time for you to man up. Speak.”
    Derek took a deep breath. “She’s a model.”
    “What type of model?” Nadia said.
    “Lingerie and swimsuits and stuff.”
    “How old is this girl?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe sixteen or seventeen.”
    “How did Bobby meet her?”
    “She friended him on Facebook.”
    “Facebook? Bobby’s on Facebook? That’s impossible.” Bobby had agreed to stay away from social media to minimize the risk of someone recognizing him and revealing his true identity. “Since when?”
    “I don’t know. A couple of months. He’s got fans.”
    “He does?”
    Derek nodded. “On account of the Gáborik race. The YouTube videos.”
    “And how did this girl find him?”
    “A friend of hers showed her his home page. They had a lot in common.”
    “What friend?”
    “Another girl. A friend of mine.”
    Meredith frowned. “What friend of yours?”
    “Someone I met. She goes to St. Mary’s in Flushing. We play them twice a year. She goes to the games.”
    “And you’ve been seeing this other girl?” Shock registered on Meredith’s face.
    “She friended me after one of the games this past season. We’ve gone on a couple of double dates. She’s a model, too. It’s nothing serious.”
    “Who is this girl? Who are her parents?” Meredith turned to her husband. “Did you know about this?”
    Trent shrugged.
    “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Meredith said.
    “Did Bobby go to see Iryna the night he was arrested?” Nadia said.
    “Couldn’t tell you,” Derek said.
    “Son, if you’re lying…”
    Derek glared at his father. “I’m not lying.”
    “Do you know her full name and address?” Nadia said.
    “Her last name is Arshun. I don’t have an address. We never went to anyone’s house.”
    “How about a phone number?”
    “Nope. I never called her. She’s Bobby’s girl.”
    “But you have your girlfriend’s number.”
    “I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend.”
    “Call her whatever you want,” Trent said. “But go get your cell phone, and call her now.”
    Derek stood up.
    “No, no,” Nadia said. “I just need a look at her Facebook page. If I can get a last name and a look at her picture, that’ll be plenty.”
    “You don’t want her phone number?” Meredith said.
    “No. I’ll find her,” Nadia said. She caught Derek’s eyes. “I’d rather her friends not warn her I was coming.”

CHAPTER 8

    T HERE WERE THREE Arshuns listed in the phone book as living in Brighton Beach. All were listed under men’s names. Nadia called them sequentially. A different woman with an Eastern European accent answered each time. Nadia identified herself as Cynthia Moss, Vice President of the Lauder Modeling Agency in Manhattan. She asked to speak with the promising young model named Iryna. Each time she was told no such person lived there. Nadia asked if they knew a teenage model by that name that lived in Brighton Beach. The first two women said no and hung up. The third one, however, kept talking.
    “Is this about modeling?” the woman said.
    “No,” Nadia said. “Super modeling.”
    The woman gasped. “Iryna lives with my daughter’s friend. Please hold. I give you phone number.”
    Nadia called and left a voice mail. Iryna called back three minutes later. She spoke good English but with the same accent. They agreed to meet for drinks at 8:00 p.m. After Nadia hung up, an investment banker called with a job proposition. His client needed a forensic securities analyst fluent