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could see her reflection. His dark blond hair was slicked back tight against his scalp, and when he turned to face Vera, Pam saw that he had a ponytail tight against the back of his neck and tucked into his jacket. He looked like a cross of a Men in Black extra and a Chippendale’s dancer. Pam decided he was better eye candy than the street punks outside and unashamedly watched him.
    “Hello, detective,” Vera said. “Are you here on business or pleasure?”
    “I was hoping for a little of both. Have you seen Piotr?”
    She shook her head, and her shoulders drooped, as if the weight of the world had just crashed down on them. “No. I haven’t seen him in two days, but that’s not out of the ordinary. He doesn’t live with me anymore, but he usually comes around for lunch.”
    “Do you mind if I wait a bit and see if he comes in? I’d love to try some of your pumpkin oladi. Andrej speaks reverently about them.”
    Vera flushed a deep red. “He’s most kind. I was thinking of asking him to help me pick out a dog to adopt.”
    “He’d be the best person to talk to. He’s such a soft case, he takes in every stray he finds.”
    “Sit down, Drago, and I’ll get you a pot of tea. You like black tea, yes? Same as Andrej?”
    “Exactly.” The man she’d called Drago turned to Pam and caught her looking. He flashed her a smile that was all teeth.
    Rawr!
    “Hi, I’m Drake Logan,” he said.
    “It’s nice to meet you.” Pam nodded to the empty seat across from her. Maybe having a snack with a handsome detective would shake her out of the funk being back in the neighborhood had put her in. “I’m Pam Krupin.”
    He shook her hand and sat down.
    “Why did Vera call you Drago, if your name is Drake?”
    “My godfather calls me that.”
    “You do look a bit like Ivan Drago.” She smiled.
    “I vill crush you,” he said in a deep Russian accent.
    Pam put a hand over her heart. “I would have totally gone for that, back in the eighties. Of course, I was only five, I think, when the movie came out.”
    “Me too, but it’s a classic. So, do you work around here?” Drake moved as Vera put down his tea pot.
    The strong tea smelled so much like home, she got a bit choked up.
    “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine,” she said, and when he looked at her oddly, she realized she had spoken in Russian. “Oh, I’m sorry. I said—”
    “I speak Russian,” he said in the same language. Then he reverted back to English. “I was just startled to hear you speak it.”
    “I’m fluent. My father spoke it at home. I spent a year of college in St. Petersburg.”
    “Wow,” he said. “I’ve never been to Russia. My godfather was the one who taught me. I think you might know him. Nikolai Egorov?”
    Pam smiled. “Yes, he’s a trip. Nothing slows him down, does it?”
    “Not even his arthritis, which he said you help with.”
    “I’m very glad to hear that. He’s a nice man. He and I speak Russian together. It keeps me from getting rusty.”
    Vera brought Drake’s pancakes with her pastry, and they both dug in. They ate in companionable silence, and Pam enjoyed looking up at him through her lashes. She wished he’d take off his sunglasses. She’d like to see his eyes. The sunlight shaded in his cheekbones and strong unshaven jaw line. For an instant, she compared him to Ralphie, and the similarities had her shaking her head in bemusement. It wasn’t like her to be so besotted with a client that she saw parts of him anywhere. Maybe because he had saved her, she was putting him on a pedestal.
    “I would have said something,” Drake said after he devoured his pancakes like a man possessed, “but there was a party in my mouth. Contrary to the evidence, I have eaten today.”
    “I know the feeling. Vera’s the best cook.” Pam poured her last cup of tea from the pot. She was surprised to feel a little disappointed that she would have to be going back to work so soon. She was enjoying talking to