Murder Under Cover

by Kate Carlisle

  “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 he
ard 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.”

  Chapter 5

  Once we were back at my place, I started water boiling for tea. I didn’t drink tea very often, but I found it comforting when I was feeling blue. Today qualified.

  Derek walked into the kitchen, put his arms around me, and spoke quietly. “It might be a good idea if I checked into a hotel tonight. That way, you and Robin can spend time with each other without my interference.”

  “I heard that.” Robin came rushing over to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living and dining areas. “Don’t you dare leave on my account. I won’t let you.”

  Derek turned. “I thought it would be preferable if-”

  “No,” she insisted, “it’s not. I’d rather you stayed. I’ll feel much safer if you’re here. Oh, but…” She pressed her hand to her mouth as though she’d misspoken.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She walked into the kitchen, ignored me, and glared at Derek. “Unless you’d rather stay at your hotel.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not-”

  “It’s your decision, of course,” Robin went on. “But why are you so anxious to leave? Do you know how lucky you are to have Brooklyn to curl up with every night?”

  “I’m astonishingly lucky,” he said, winking at me.

  “Hey,” I said, embarrassed now and reaching for the bag of double-fudge Milanos on the counter. “Let’s have some cookies.”

  “That’s right,” Robin said, ignoring me as she shook her finger at Derek. “Why would you want to stay anywhere else?”

  “Why, indeed?” Derek said nonchalantly.

  “Exactly!”

  “Um, Robin-”

  “Sorry, Brooklyn,” Robin cried, and grabbed me in a tight hug. “But I don’t want to be the excuse he uses to leave you.”

  I looked at Derek. “Please stay.”

  “Don’t beg,” Robin whispered. “If he hasn’t figured out you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, it’s his problem.”

  I stared at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Derek laughed. He seemed delighted with the entire conversation. “I’ll stay here tonight, if you don’t mind.”

  Robin beamed. “Wonderful.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Still slightly baffled by what had just transpired, I held out the bag. “Cookie, anyone?”

  Robin grabbed hold of both our arms and pulled us closer, then looked back and forth from Derek to me. “I’m a little nutso right now, so thank you for tolerating me. I owe you both so much for coming to my rescue today. I’m not sure I can ever repay you, but I love you for it. Thank you.”

  “It’s what friends do,” Derek said.

  “Well put,” she said, and kissed him smack-dab on the lips. Then she turned and did the same to me.

  I laughed and gave her a tight hug. “You really are crazy-you know that? But I love you, too.”

  She looked at Derek. “So it’s settled.”

  “It’s settled,” he said with a nod.

  “Guess we’re having a sleepover,” I said, still not sure what they’d settled, but glad about it.

  “So what’s for dinner?” she asked, grabbing the bag of cookies.

  “I’ve recently developed quite a taste for pad thai noodles,” Derek offered.

  “My favorite.” Robin clapped her hands, then turned to me. “Do we have wine?”

  “Oh, hell, yes.” I quickly pulled a bottle out of the wine rack and grabbed the corkscrew. It was better than tea any day of the week.

  Later that evening, as we watched reruns of Nash Bridges and nibbled on red velvet cupcakes, Derek’s cell phone rang. I paused the show, because Derek had never seen it, and despite his best intentions, he was starting to get into it.

  He mostly listened on his end, and the call was over in less than two minutes. Turning to Robin, he said, “That was Inspector Lee. They did find traces of Rohypnol in your system.”

  “I knew it,” I said. “That bastard.” I whipped around and grabbed Robin’s hand. “Sorry. But really, what a jerk.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She seemed a little dazed by the reality of what had been done to her.

  “The inspector will call you tomorrow morning to set up a time to come by so she can discuss things in detail with you.”

  “Why did she call you?” Robin wondered aloud. “She could’ve called me and cut out the middleman.”

  “She probably thinks you took a Valium and went to bed,” I said.

  She sank back into the couch. “Oh, what a good idea.”

  I looked at Derek. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but I’ll arrange to be here when she comes.”

  “Thank you, Derek,” Robin said. “Again.”

  He waved away her thanks. “I’m just being meddlesome. I want to hear what the police are up to.”

  I chuckled. “Me, too.”

  “No,” Robin said. “You’re being heroic and protective, and I appreciate it.”

  I nudged her with my elbow. “You don’t have to keep saying thank-you. You would do the same for us.”

  “I know, but… it’s weird.” She laid her head back on the couch.

  “I know, sweetie.”

  A noise like hailstones pitter-pattered outside in the hall, and we all looked at one another. “What the hell is that?”

  I jumped up and ran to the front door.

  Three
Asian children were running up and down the wide, well-lit outer hallway. As they raced toward my door, the lead child saw me and skidded to a stop, causing the other two to collide into each other. The last child tumbled to the floor, laughing.

  “Children!” a dark-haired woman cried from the end of the hall. She had to be their mother.

  They all stood at attention. The tallest child, a little boy, stared at me with wide eyes while the two girls looked at the floor. I estimated the boy was six or seven and his siblings a year or two younger.

  “You’re disturbing the peace of our neighbors,” the mom said. “What did I tell you about making noise?”

  I waved at the woman standing outside her door. “Hello. I’m Brooklyn. You must be our new neighbors.”

  “Yes. I am very sorry for the children’s behavior.” She approached my door slowly as she explained, “They have been cooped up all day, and I let them out to greet their father, who should be here any minute.” She gazed severely at her children. “But that is no excuse for such rambunctious conduct.”

  “Sorry, Mama,” they said in unison.

  “Perhaps you should apologize to our new neighbor, so she won’t think you are all little hooligans.”

  “Sorry, new neighbor,” they said.

  I bit back a laugh. “That’s okay.” I looked at the mom. “I heard them running and came out to investigate. Except for the elevator, this is a pretty quiet building.” I cringed inwardly as I said it. I didn’t want her feeling self-conscious and stifling her kids too much. On the other hand, did I really want to hear little kids racing up and down the hall all day? The answer was a big no way.

  “I’m Lisa Chung,” the woman said. She was beautiful and petite, with long black hair. She had a mild Chinese accent.

  “I’m Brooklyn Wainwright.” I shook her hand, then pointed toward my door. “These are my friends Derek Stone and Robin Tully.”

  She bowed slightly in our direction. “How do you do?”

  “Did you just arrive today?” I asked. “We saw movers over the weekend but didn’t see anyone actually moving in.”

  “Yes, the movers came ahead of us. We came in with the children this morning.”

  The Chungs had caused a stir a few months ago when they bought two loft units next door to each other, then tore down the shared walls to make one huge apartment to accommodate their family of five.