Murder Under Cover

Chapter 4

It was past eleven a.m. when the assistant medical examiner ran up to Sharon’s to draw Robin’s blood for analysis in the lab. He also recommended a urine test and handed her a small plastic cup.

Robin made a face. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he said. “Date-rape drugs can be detected in urine and hair follicles a lot longer than in the blood.”

“Good to know,” I said.

Normally, the medical examiner wouldn’t run a test like this, but he’d agreed as a favor for Inspector Lee. It made it a lot easier for Robin, but she was still a little grossed out as she took the plastic cup from him in front of all of us.

As far as I was concerned, she could be as disgusted as she wanted to be, but I was reassured. If they could find drugs in her system, I knew it would exonerate her completely.

As she disappeared into the bathroom, Derek walked in the front door. My heart stuttered as I watched him stride toward me, looking ridiculously gorgeous in a navy pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, and the most beautiful burgundy tie I’d ever seen. The tie alone probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. I glanced down at my turtleneck sweater, jeans, and scruffy boots, then back at him. It was sad to realize that he was a far better dresser than I was, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

In fact, he seemed just as pleased to see me as I was to see him. So I guessed I didn’t have anything to worry about, wardrobewise. Not yet, anyway. The relationship was still young. Besides, I was capable of cleaning up quite nicely when the occasion called for it. This one just happened to call for jeans and old boots.

“You’re back already?” I asked, my voice betraying my happiness.

“I was able to cancel my afternoon meeting,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist. “I couldn’t concentrate on work, knowing you were here having all the fun.”

I frowned at him. “Fun?”

“No,” he said soberly. “This has definitely not been fun for you. But except for Robin’s involvement, you can’t pretend you’re not in your element.”

I pressed my forehead against his chest. “What does it say about me that a crime scene has become my element?”

He lifted my chin up with his fingers. “It says you’re endlessly fascinating.”

I gazed up at him and knew I could lose myself in his dark blue eyes. “That’s very sweet.”

“Oy, take it somewhere else, you two,” Inspector Lee groused as she strolled back into Sharon’s apartment. “You’re gonna make me sorry I changed my mind about moving this all downtown.”

“We don’t want that,” I said, pushing away from Derek. Usually I was no fan of public displays of affection, but lately I couldn’t seem to help myself.

“Where’s my girl?” Lee said, glancing around the apartment. “I’ve got some more questions.”

I assumed she was looking for Robin. “She’ll be right out.”

At that moment, the bathroom door opened and Robin emerged, looking sheepish, hiding the plastic cup inside her jacket. She went into Sharon’s kitchen and came out a moment later carrying a small brown bag that she handed to the assistant ME.

“Hey, Schultz, call me with the results ASAP,” Inspector Lee said.

The man waved without turning. “You got it.” Then he disappeared out the front door.

“All right.” Lee motioned for Robin, saying, “Let’s do this.” She escorted Robin halfway down the hall before turning back to me and Derek. “We’ll probably be another half hour.”

Then she led Robin into Sharon’s small office and closed the door, leaving Derek and me with nothing to do but wait. And worry. Which I was really good at. At the moment, my mind was racing back and forth among every possible bad situation Robin might face.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” Derek suggested, interrupting my anxious thoughts. “I’ll buy you something to eat.”

“I could eat,” I allowed, and he grinned. Derek was well aware of my capacity to eat anytime, night or day. I loved food. All kinds of food. I wasn’t picky. You’d think I was starved as a child.

I grabbed my jacket, then tracked down Sharon in her bedroom and told her we’d be back in twenty minutes if anyone was interested.

Outside, the weather was sunny, cold, and breezy, but I didn’t mind the chill after being cooped up inside Sharon’s apartment for half the day.

Deciding on coffee and maybe a muffin, we headed over to a bakery I knew of on Twenty-fourth Street, a few blocks away. In deference to Robin, we decided to hold off eating lunch. But coffee and pastry didn’t count as real food.

We held hands as we walked, and Derek talked about the morning he’d spent at his new offices. He’d recently opened a branch of Stone Security in San Francisco, which meant that from now on, he would be commuting between here and London, as well as flying all over the world wherever and whenever his services were required.

In his London, Berlin, and Rome offices, there was a combined staff of almost nine hundred, and forty of them had made the initial move with Derek to San Francisco. They were still bringing in furniture, arranging for services and vendors, and setting up all the myriad processes and functions and staffing it took to run a successful company in a strange new land.

I’d never asked and he’d never mentioned whether he’d relocated here to be closer to his clients in the Pacific Rim countries or to me. Maybe it would be presumptuous to ask, but I was hoping it was all about me. After all, he seemed happy to be living in my home with me. But I guessed it was also a smart business decision to have an office on the West Coast, since he had clients on both sides of the Pacific Ocean. I’d decided not to ask him. Not yet, anyway, because he would’ve told me the truth. I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it.

Sometimes I couldn’t believe we had actually become so involved with each other. Derek resembled something out of a James Bond film, and by that I mean he truly resembled James Bond. Any Bond. Take your pick. Derek, of course, was better-looking, tougher, and classier than any of them. He was also loyal, bold, straightforward, and very, very hot. The first time I’d ever seen him, I was reminded of a sleek panther stalking its prey. At the time, I’d had the uneasy feeling that the prey just might be me.

Did I mention that he carried a gun? He did. He also made me laugh. I guessed I kept him laughing, too. I just had to trust he was laughing with me. He made me feel feminine and petite-not that I was Quasimodo or anything, but at five-foot-nine, I wasn’t exactly elfin. Lucky for me he was six feet, two inches of blue twisted steel. Okay, the blue twisted steel was a bit of an exaggeration. But the part about being hot? No exaggeration there.

And it sounds weird to say it, but he just plain liked me. And I liked him. A lot.

From his positive description of things in his new offices, it was clear that his partners and personnel were settling in nicely after more than a month of flux.

“You’ve been busy,” I said, “but it sounds like your assistant may be the real hero.”

“Corinne is invaluable,” he said. “I would be lost without her. I wasn’t even sure she would come with me, but she surprised me. Told me she and her husband decided they wanted an adventure.”

“They sound like an interesting pair.”

“They are. You’ll meet them both next Saturday.”

“I will?”

“I hope so. We’re having a party to celebrate the official opening of the San Francisco offices. We wouldn’t ordinarily schedule an office event on a Saturday night, but my partners are flying over from London, and a number of clients are coming in from out of town. We’re inviting vendors, staff, friends, lovers.” He raised one rakish eyebrow and flashed me a smile.

“Is that an invitation?” I asked.

“I’m not about to go without you.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said casually, while I secretly felt all squishy and blissful because he’d invited me. Maybe I would slap myself later for being such a twit, but right now I smiled and reveled in the joy of it all. “I’d love to see your offices.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to showing you around.”

I knew I was wearing a big dopey smile, but I couldn’t help it. Derek had revealed last month that he was moving here and I hadn’t gotten over the thrill yet. I could still remember the moment he told me. I’d spent the entire day-well, at least those moments when I wasn’t being threatened by a cold-blooded killer-preparing myself to say good-bye to him. Imagine my shock when he’d handed me his new business card showing a tony Nob Hill address as his new office location.

I’d been wearing this same silly grin ever since.

We turned on Twenty-fourth Street, the treelined heart of the Noe Valley community, and walked half a block down to the Noe Valley Bakery. As we entered, the intoxicating aroma of warm, sugary treats was the first thing that caught me. I stopped and stared in awe at the massive displays of fluffy cupcakes, airy croissants, and every type of gooey, yummy pastry known to man.

It wasn’t easy, but I finally settled on a sensible blueberry muffin and a large coffee, while Derek ordered coffee and took a pass on the sweets. Since most of the morning crowd was gone, we were able to grab an empty table and sit for a few minutes.

After taking some sips of coffee and a bite of my muffin, I finally posed the question I’d been waiting all morning to ask. “Did you find anything important inside Robin’s place?”

He eyed me for a moment, then said, “I assume you’re referring to something other than the dead man.”

“You can start with him if you want. What did he look like? What was in his pockets? Tell me everything.”

He glanced at me askance. “You saw him.”

“I know, but I’ve been working really hard to block out the vivid image, and now I’m no longer sure of what I saw. I just remember a bullet hole and a lot of blood.” I shivered involuntarily.

“There was plenty of that. I’m afraid Robin managed to spread it throughout the house. Her bloody footsteps were everywhere.”

I took a big gulp of coffee to soothe my suddenly dry throat. “Okay, we can step away from the subject of blood and dead bodies. I won’t be happy if my appetite is so ruined that I can’t eat this muffin, so let’s keep it simple. Did he have a gun? Was there any information in his wallet? Please don’t tell me he had photos of a wife and six children. Did you find any traces of whoever killed him? Did you see anything else that was weird?”

His smile was appraising. “Have you given any thought to going into law enforcement? You excel at interrogation.”

“I’ve had some experience in that area, on the wrong end, unfortunately.” I touched his arm. “I’m just curious, you know? And worried. Because it’s Robin.”

“I know, darling.”

“I guess I just want to know whether you saw anything that would cause Inspector Lee to arrest her.”

“Frankly, no.” But a frown line marred his forehead. “I can’t imagine they would think she ransacked her own apartment.”

“Ransacked? What do you mean?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“No. I must’ve been distracted by the body. You’re telling me that someone searched her place?”

“It was a shambles, so if they were searching for something, they didn’t do a neat job of it. Things were upturned and pulled off shelves, sofa cushions thrown every which way. Nothing truly damaged, just tossed about.”

“Oh, hell, that stinks.” Poor Robin, as if she didn’t have enough to deal with.

“Yes, it does. However, what struck me as even more odd was that the victim had absolutely no identification on him. No papers, no passport, no driver’s license, credit cards, cash. Nothing.”

“No wallet?”

“No. I assume whoever killed him must’ve taken it.”

“They must’ve,” I said. “Nobody walks around without identification or money. Or a credit card. Hell, a Costco card. Something.”

“True.” Derek clutched his coffee cup. “But his pockets were cleaned out.”

“Wow.” I was stymied. “So the killer searched Robin’s place and stole this guy’s identification papers. I don’t get it.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t either. And until Robin is strong enough to return to her home, there’s no telling whether something was stolen or not.”

“I doubt she’ll want to go inside and find out anytime soon.”

“No.” He pondered the facts for a moment. “She was able to drive to your home, so she had her keys, at least.”

“Right,” I murmured. “And she had her purse. So I assume the guy didn’t steal her wallet. Which kind of creeps me out even more. I mean, a burglary would make sense. But this.” I rubbed my arms. “It’s disturbing.”

“Yes.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. “While looking through his clothing, I noticed his shirt label was in Russian.”

“Russian? From a Russian shirt company? Printed in Russian letters?”

“Cyrillic lettering, to be precise.”

“Right. Robin said he was from Ukraine. Do Ukrainians speak Russian?”

“It’s a source of friction, but yes, Russian is spoken by many Ukrainians. The two countries were still united up until twenty some years ago.” He finished off his coffee and tossed the cup in a nearby trash can. “Let’s get back to the shirt, which I happen to know came from a well-known men’s store in Russia.”

“You know the store it came from?” I asked in amazement. But why was I surprised? The man had traveled all over the world. He’d worked with British intelligence, so he might’ve spent time in Russia. Or Ukraine. Or anywhere else, for that matter. He spoke, like, forty-three languages. Okay, seven or eight, but who was counting?

“Yes, I do,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Uomo Firenzi is a high-end men’s store. There are several branches in Moscow and one in Saint Petersburg.”

“Have you shopped there?”

“No. The clothes are of Italian design but they cater to… Russian tastes.”

I smiled at the tone of distaste in his voice. “Not your style, I take it?”

“Beautiful craftsmanship, very expensive, but no, not my taste.”

“Not Burberry enough for you?”

He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “No. Not a bit of plaid or an elbow patch to be found anywhere.”

“What a shame.”

“Indeed,” he said with a regal nod.

I sipped my coffee. “So he’s Russian or Ukrainian. He’s wealthy, with expensive taste in clothing.”

“And exceptional taste in women,” Derek added.

“Right, because he zoned right in on Robin. But he’s got seriously questionable taste in friends.”

“Or enemies.”

“More likely.” I chewed my last bite of muffin. “Which leaves us precisely nowhere. Except wondering how or why in the world Robin got mixed up with this guy.”

He patted my knee. “Let’s go see how she’s doing and perhaps find out more about this mysterious Ukrainian.”

Before we left the bakery, I purchased four of their fluffy red velvet cupcakes, hoping they would cheer Robin up.

As we walked, my mind went back to wondering how Robin had dealt with the grizzly scene in her apartment earlier that morning. Had she realized her apartment was a mess? A shambles, as Derek said? And not just from blood and death. Someone had apparently torn her place apart.

She hadn’t mentioned it earlier. Had she even noticed? Or had Alex’s death eclipsed all else?

As we walked back on Noe Street and turned on Elizabeth, I asked Derek’s opinion. “Do you think Robin simply didn’t notice, or do you think someone came in later, after she was gone, to search for something?”

He gritted his teeth, indicating that he’d had those same questions. “My gut instinct tells me she simply didn’t notice. She shut down, grabbed the essentials-her keys, purse, coat-and ran. That same instinct makes me think whoever killed Alex searched the place immediately afterward, before Robin awoke.”

“Why do you think so?”

“The killer and the searcher are probably the same person. As long as Robin slept through the killing, why wouldn’t they stay and search the place right then and there? Otherwise, they’d have to leave and take a chance on returning later, unobserved.”

“True. And the thought of two different people breaking into her home in one night stretches the realm of probability pretty far.”

“Yes, it does,” he said, and took hold of my hand.

As we walked, I tried to imagine someone traipsing through Robin’s apartment, throwing her things around, looking for God knew what. It was disturbing, to say the least, and I made a concerted effort to push it out of my mind. Instead, I focused my thoughts on those four sweet red velvet cupcakes inside the white box I was carrying. Ah, happy thoughts. Peace. Love. Food.

It was noon by the time we got back to Sharon’s and found Robin slouched in the recliner again, looking exhausted. Inspectors Lee and Jaglom were sitting at Sharon’s dining room table carrying on a quiet conversation. Sharon was in her kitchen, cutting something on her chopping-block table in the middle of the large, sunny room. She looked up and smiled, and I had the thought that despite her very real concern for Robin, she would be able to dine out on this story for a long time.

Inspector Jaglom focused his patient eyes on me. “We’ve told Ms. Tully that she’s free to go for now, but she won’t be able to go inside her place for a few days.”

“She’ll stay with me,” I said.

He nodded, then caught Robin’s gaze. “You won’t leave town without contacting us first, will you, Ms. Tully?”

“I promise I won’t.”

Inspector Lee pushed away from the table and stood. “Commander Stone, can we have a word with you? It won’t take long.”

Derek handed me his keys and motioned for me to take Robin down to his car. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“Okay,” I said, grabbing the key ring. Then I turned to the two detectives. “I guess I’ll see you both later.”

“No doubt,” Lee said.

That’s what I was afraid of.

While we waited for Derek in the Bentley, Robin rested in the backseat. An earlier request to pack up some of her clothes and essentials had been refused, so Robin would be stuck using my stuff for a day or so until we could get back into her apartment. I had extra toothbrushes and sundry items she could use, but beyond a sweatshirt and sweatpants, my clothes would be a problem for her. Robin was five feet, two inches tall with great curves, while I was seven inches taller and thinner by a size or two. I could see a shopping trip in our future.

“I bought you red velvet cupcakes,” I said.

“You did?” she said meekly.

“Yeah, four of them.” I held up the bakery box. “We can eat them all when we get home.”

“That was really thoughtful.”

“I know they’re your favorite.”

I heard her sniffle and turned around in time to see her dissolve into tears.

“They’re not your favorite?” I asked.

She laughed through the waterworks. “Yes, they’re my favorite. But I can’t even think about eating. I’m just so sad, and worried, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I’m so glad you’re with me. I’m just so… thankful that you’re hanging with me.”

“Hey, you’re my best bud,” I said, reaching back to grab her hand. “That’s what we do. Right?”

“That’s right.” She sat up, sniffed, and wiped away her tears with her sleeve. “I’m trying to stop crying, but hearing about those cupcakes put me right over the edge.”

“I know. They do that to me, too.”

Her smile was watery. “You’re so easy when it comes to food.”

“I’m sure that’s a compliment.”

“Of course.” She squeezed my shoulder. “I love you, Brooklyn.”

Now it was my turn to tear up. “Oh, honey, I love you, too. We’ll get you through this. You won’t be alone, I promise. I’m not going to leave you to deal with anything on your own.”

Right then, Derek opened the driver’s-side door and slid onto the smooth leather seat. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Robin and I exchanged worried looks.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes growing wider.

As he started the engine, he gave me a somber glance meant to silence me, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Derek,” I said, “what happened? What did Inspector Lee say?”

As he pulled away from the curb, he said, “She didn’t get a chance to say much of anything. Before we could begin to talk, Inspector Jaglom received a phone call from police headquarters that caused them both to go ballistic.”

Robin sat forward. “Why?”

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “They couldn’t find any identification in Alex’s clothing, but they saw the Russian labels. And from everything you told them about him, the cops are afraid this might become an international incident.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said.

“It is. Inspector Jaglom is afraid your Department of Homeland Security will be intrigued enough by your Ukrainian friend to take over the case.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” I asked.

“It could be. Nate told me the feds in this area have a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means that in an overabundance of caution, the feds might throw Robin in jail.”