Chapter 19

It’s autumn in New York that brings the promise of new love…

Irena never got tired of listening to Frank Sinatra sing “Autumn in New York.”

Autumn in New York is often mingled with pain…dreamers with empty hands…

One of Irena’s favourite fall traditions was to lose herself in the  velvety sensuous voice of Frank Sinatra. The song was so evocative of the nostalgia she herself felt at this time of year. … dreamers with empty hands. Not always had her hands been empty. She smiled, so grateful for her treasure trove of happy memories.

Although the blaze of fall foliage no longer crowned the trees of Central Park and it was getting cold, Irena had always enjoyed November. Strange, since almost all of her acquaintances suffered from one form or another of seasonal affective disorder. Not Irena. She found the crisp weather invigorating. She went on long walks all across Manhattan to enjoy every moment of her sweet November.

Just like her daughter Vika, Irena had two watches—one set at New York time; one set for Riga. She waited and waited for Vika to call her. She had texted several times but there had been no response. Not even Frank Sinatra could mitigate the sense of unease she now felt. She couldn’t stop worrying about the overheard conversation Bernie had with a Juris. Who was this Juris? And why was Bernie so enraged finding her at the door to his study?

The bring of her cell pulled her out of her thoughts. Hoping it would be Vika, she snatched it and answered.

“Mamma, I’m OK. I’m fine,” Vika started. But Irena immediately knew that was not true. A mother knows.

“Vika! Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing to worry about, mamma. Just please…one thing…if Bernie asks you about me, just tell him you’ve had no news.”

Irena gasped. “So, you are in trouble, aren’t you?”

“Well, it’s a bit complicated right now. I just want to enjoy Riga without Bernie bothering me. You know what I mean. I just need a holiday from him.”

Irena made a guttural noise in her throats. She often did when Bernie’s name was mentioned. They both needed a holiday from Bernie but this was not about to happen.

“Listen, Vika. I texted you what I had overheard. Bernie talking to some Juris. The name Svetlana was mentioned. What does all that mean?”

“Yes. I certainly noted that,” Vika replied hesitantly. She didn’t know what it meant but she had been worried sick. And had stopped communicating with Bernie.

There was a brief silence before Vika continued. “I’m very concerned about you, mamma. I wish you were here in Riga with me. Is there any chance—”

Vika heard a gasp from Irena. “Wait. There’s someone at the door.”

“Don’t answer the door!” Vika all but screamed.

Irena didn’t hesitate. She immediately deleted Vika’s calls, set the phone to mute and placed it on her side table. She knew it was Bernie and she’d have  to let him in. It was his condo.

The minute Irena cracked open the door Bernie barged right in, nearly shoving his mother-in-law aside. Irena had been through a great deal in her life. She knew how to hide fear. Before facing him, she forced herself to breathe normally and plastered on a phony smile of welcome.

Bernie’s face was pinched with barely contained rage. “Hey! What’s going on here? My wife won’t answer my calls.”

Irena flapped her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh you know Vika. She gets so carried away. She must be excited to be on her own and she—”

Bernie cut her off. “Where is she?”

Irena feigned surprise. “In Riga of course. You yourself kindly invited me to join Vika but she’d have none of it. Never liked her old mother trailing after her. She’s a free spirit.”

“Yeah sure. Free spirit with my money. How far would she go without me? Tell me that!”

Irena stared at Bernie’s red face. He looked dangerous, almost out of control. She knew she had to act quickly to appease him however she could.

“Don’t worry Bernie, she’s always put you first. You know that, don’t you? Now, can I get you a drink? I was just about to make myself a very dry martini.”

Bernie’s eyes roamed the room. Lit up when he spotted the phone.  “Turn it on!” he barked. “I want to look at your calls.”

Irena’s relief was almost palpable. Thank God she had deleted Vika’s calls. And, since there hasn’t been much activity, she hoped her bases had been covered.

Bernie snatched the phone, went through it. Everything seemed legit. But still he wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m taking it for now.”

Irena’s mind raced. She couldn’t let that happen. “Oh Bernie, no! I’m an old lady. I must have emergency access to the outside world.”

Bernie glared at her but relented.

“If Vika calls you, tell her to call me immediately.”

“Absolutely, Bernie. Absolutely. And if she calls you, please let me know.”

Irena was almost dizzy with relief. “Now, the drink?”

Bernie frowned. “Forget it.”

With that he turned and left. He was royally pissed off. Walking to his car he kept muttering under his breath, What good are these dames anyway? Got to get rid of them. Irena was too expensive and completely useless. Vika needed to be replaced by a younger fresher mule. And this Frankie Caputo? Unusable.

It was time to take matters into his own hands. He felt sure that Irena was hiding something from him. The deal with Juris wasn’t going through. What happened to Svetlana? And to Vika?

He needed to reach the guy who had put him in touch with Juris—Jurmala Juris, as they called him, or simply JJ.

What a bummer! He’d have to go down to Brighton Beach—the headquarters of Russian Mafia in the USA. He had never had anything to do with that bunch before. Oh well, there was always a first time for everything.