The Ukrainian connection fed into Lee’s theory that this whole mess was related to the escalating turf war. Once again, Derek and I kept mum, but I wouldn’t be able to be quiet much longer. We were withholding evidence, and all those levels of government jurisdiction didn’t matter to me as long as Robin was still in danger. If the police knew we were looking for a mysterious missing flash drive, they would freak, and I wouldn’t blame them.
I knew Derek wasn’t in favor of telling the police. He’d obtained the intelligence on the flash drive from his sources at Interpol and knew there were people at the highest levels of the U.S. government who were aware of the situation and would step in if and when they felt the need to do so.
I didn’t share with him that confidence that our government officials would play fairly. Besides, I had a personal relationship with Lee and Jaglom. I didn’t want them coming out of this with egg on their faces because their higher-ups didn’t feel a need to keep them in the loop.
“At least we saw who killed the guy,” I said to Inspector Lee in my defense, lame as it was.
Lee and I stood on the small balcony outside Alex Pavlenko’s apartment. She and Jaglom had been first on the scene, beating the uniformed guys and the medical examiner. Now Jaglom and Derek were talking inside while we all waited for the medical examiner and the crime scene specialists to show up. Two uniformed officers were already knocking on neighbors’ doors, looking for witnesses.
Lee smirked. “So you’re saying you saw Galina Shirkova pull the trigger?”
So that was her last name, I thought, then sighed. “No, I didn’t exactly see her do it.”
“You hear a gunshot?”
“Okay, no. But-”
“All you really saw was Shirkova walking down the sidewalk and driving away in a car.”
“Maybe so, but she was in there,” I said, pointing at Alex’s door. “Then she left, drove away. Two minutes later, we get up here and, oh, look, there’s a dead body.”
“Still not good enough.”
“Oh, come on,” I retorted. “She’s a menace who never should’ve been let out of jail. I don’t know why you’re hedging about her. If I’d done the same thing, you’d already have your handcuffs out.”
She pulled them off her belt and twirled them around her finger. “That’s because you would look so good in these.”
I regarded her askance. “Okay, that’s weird.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, chuckling as she slipped the handcuffs back in place.
It had been a little tricky at first, explaining to the police what we were doing at Alex’s apartment. I’d attempted an elaborate explanation with justifications and details, but Lee interrupted rudely, shutting me down, telling me I was the worst damn liar on God’s green earth. That was when Derek had stepped in to offer a semblance of the truth, saying we were merely curious to see where Alex lived, but when we saw Galina leaving, we felt duty-bound to check things out.
Now, desperate to change the subject away from murder, I asked, “How’s your mom doing?”
“Hey, she’s doing okay. Thanks for asking.” Lee leaned her elbows on the porch rail. “No sign of cancer after the surgery and the tests, so she’ll be coming home from the hospital tomorrow.”
“That’s great news. Does she have someone staying with her, helping her get around?”
She made a face. “Oh, hell, no. She’s too damned independent for that. But she’s got good friends and neighbors, so I’ve secretly organized them all to take turns checking on her, offering to pick stuff up at the grocery, that sort of thing.”
“You’re a good daughter.”
“What’re you gonna do?” She lifted both hands in surrender. “I can’t be there around the clock, so this is the next-best way to make sure she’s being looked after.”
We kibitzed for twenty more minutes until the medical examiner arrived. Then Derek and I took advantage of the distraction and left the scene.
In the car, Derek gave me some bad news. “Inspector Jaglom believes the victim was shot sometime yesterday.”
“What?” I cried. “But Galina was just there. She had to have shot him during those few minutes before we got there.”
“I’m sorry, darling. Nathan will call with the medical examiner’s findings, but he’s fairly certain, based on rigor mortis, that the man was shot at least twenty-four hours ago.”
I punched the seat cushion. “So they won’t even question Galina.”
“They’ll certainly question her if they can find her.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. Where is she?”
It was after five o’clock, too late to get back to Robin’s place before the cleaning service clocked out for the day. I called Tom, the lead guy, on my cell and he assured me they’d be back to finish the job tomorrow morning, bright and early. For someone who cleaned up the dirtiest consequences of violent death, he was remarkably affable.
Too tired to cook, we parked the car in the garage and walked to Hama, my favorite hole-in-the-wall sushi joint two blocks away. Laughing and arguing about what to share, we finally settled on a mixed platter of sushi, sashimi, and tempura. We ate the whole thing, finished off a small bottle of sake, and were in bed and asleep by ten o’clock that night.
The next day, Derek was up early and I joined him for coffee before he left for the day. Seeing him dressed for work in a beautiful dark gray suit, white shirt, and swirly navy-and-gold tie that by itself probably cost more than all the shoes in my closet, I was reminded of the mean girls from the office party. At this point, I didn’t even care about the flavor-of-the-month comment. What bugged me all over again was that they could talk so rudely and vocally about a woman their boss was obviously dating and cared for enough to bring to the party. It showed disrespect for Derek, and I hated them for that.
As my father says, sometimes people just suck.
After Derek left, I took a shower and dressed, then went to work. There was so much to do on the Kama Sutra, but first I wanted to get little Tyler’s beloved book finished and back to him.
So I spent the next three hours working on Where the Wild Things Are, separating the text block from the cover, resewing the signatures, and reinforcing the spine with a strip of heavy card stock. I replaced the endpapers with a thicker piece of stock that would strengthen the joints. Then I slid sheets of Mylar in between the front and back endpapers and the text block and glued everything down.
After that, I slipped the book between two pieces of wrapped plywood to keep it secure, then placed it in Big Betty, my heavy-duty antique brass book press, and clamped it securely. The book would remain there for twenty-four hours so the glue could dry, then be good as new for Tyler.
At eleven, I drove over to Robin’s to meet the cleaning crew. Yesterday I’d suffered a twinge of uneasiness when Derek and I left them alone to work in her apartment. But I’d been assured that the company employees were fully bonded, and besides, they’d come highly recommended by Inspector Jaglom. That had to count for something. Now, walking through the apartment with Tom, the head guy, I was happy to see that my trust had not been misplaced.
I learned two things from Tom that I’d never realized about crime scenes before. The first was that when blood was spilled, the scene became a biohazard site. Robin had tracked Alex’s blood from the bedroom to the bathroom and across the floor of her living room. These cleanup guys took their job seriously; they dressed head to toe in disposable hazmat gear.
The other thing I learned was that crime scene cleanup was covered by Robin’s homeowner’s insurance, so Tom wouldn’t take my check. Go figure.
But back to the biohazard issue. Not only had the guys cleaned and wiped down every surface where all that creepy fingerprint dust had scattered, but they’d also disinfected every square inch of the floors and walls surrounding the bed where Alex had died. They had stripped and disposed of the bloody linens, only to discover that the mattress itself would have to be thrown out.
I cringed when Tom told me that, knowing it meant that Alex’s blood had seeped through the sheets and into the mattress. I asked them to dispose of the box spring, as well, knowing Robin would never want to sleep on any part of a bed where Alex’s blood had been spilled so violently.
But in the midst of all the negative vibes, there were Tom and his team. Compassionate and respectful, they left Robin’s place sparkling clean and smelling as fresh as springtime. I couldn’t thank them enough for the work they’d done.
On the way to the mall, I had a long telephone conversation with Robin, who let me know she wanted the exact same superdeluxe mattress she had before. So I spent the afternoon buying her a mattress and box spring, then shopped for sheets, two new pillows, a down comforter, a duvet, and some cheerful mix-and-match throw pillows. I made sure everything I bought was the most beautiful and most expensive I could find. I knew my finicky friend well enough to know that that was exactly what she would’ve done.
That evening, I decided to experiment with making a shepherd’s pie. I had warm memories of my mother’s version, and I wanted comfort food after spending time with Robin’s crime scene cleaners.
Derek called to let me know he was running late, so once dinner was in the oven, I took the opportunity to work on the Kama Sutra. The only French dictionary I’d found at the mall that afternoon was for children, so I didn’t know how much help it would be, but I would consult it anyway. I’d also bought The Knucklehead’s Guide to the Kama Sutra, thinking it might come in handy. And I booted up my computer in case I needed to find references online.
I picked up the text block and turned at random to one of the middle pages and began to read, translating as I went along. I lost track of time as I studied the romantic French phrases and meticulously wrote out the English translations in my notebook. I had progressed from the chapter that emphasized sharing love and mutual commitment to the beginning of the section on the sixty-four elements of sexual loving, but now I struggled with one line.
The lingam soothes the fire in the yoni, and their union appeases… Appeases what? I couldn’t make out the French words.
Yesterday, I didn’t have a clue what a lingam was, never mind a yoni. Now I blushed whenever I came upon the words, but at least I knew what body parts they referred to. I had managed to translate another page when the front door opened and Derek walked inside.
“Hello, darling, are you still working?” he said as he strolled over and kissed me. Then he noticed what I was reading and a slow smile formed. “Ah. Do you need help with that?”
I met his smile with one of my own. “I do. I’m sure you must know twenty different languages, but how are you at reading Old French?”
“Do you believe the book is that old?” He placed his briefcase on the desk and took off his jacket. “I’m no expert, but didn’t Old French fade out with the bubonic plague?”
I chuckled. “No, the book isn’t that old, but I’m wondering if some of the archaic language was chosen deliberately.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
I slanted the page so he could read it and pointed to the sentence I’d given up on a little while ago. “It’s this word that’s giving me trouble. Arracher.”
He squinted at the word, then glanced up. “Arracher. To extract. To pull out.”
“Right.” Why did it sound so sexual when he said it? “I did a Google search and found this 1887 French dictionary. Its first definition is ‘to pluck out.’ But in context with the sentence…”
“ ‘Arracher la mangue meür,’ ” he read, finishing the phrase. “La mangue is mango, of course. But I don’t recognize meür.”
I scanned the 1887 dictionary. “Here it is. That spelling is out of use. The modern word is mûrs, which means ‘ripe.’ ”
“Ah, that makes sense. ‘Pluck the ripe mango.’ ” He raised one eyebrow. “Lovely visual.”
“Um… yes.” Was it getting hotter in here or what? “I guess I was overcomplicating the phrases.”
“What else have you translated?”
Pointing to a previous illustration, I said, “I’ve got this one worked out. It’s, um, ‘ride the wild stallion.’ ”
“Stallion.” He nodded, fighting back a smile. “Of course. Go on.”
“They’re a little obsessed with animals in here,” I muttered, my throat suddenly dry. I turned the pages and pointed to the various animals I’d translated. “Here’s a cow, a dog, a crab, a cat, a goat, a crow.”
“The crow is not to be missed.”
“Well,” I whispered, then coughed to clear my throat. “Maybe we’ve seen enough.”
“Hardly.” He turned the page and we both gazed at a couple enjoying a position as old as time. Beneath was a phrase I hadn’t yet translated.
“Ah, ‘driving the nail home,’ ” Derek translated easily, and shot me a lopsided grin. “An old favorite of mine.”
My vision was starting to fog up, making it difficult to write in my notebook. “I really should check on dinner.”
“How about that one?” he asked, pointing to a picture on the opposite page.
“You’re taunting me, right?”
“Yes.” He shifted closer, lifted my hair, and planted kisses on my neck.
I groaned, then focused my energies on my three highest chakras in order to keep from melting into a pool of lust on my clean floor. Fine. Two could play at this game, right? But it was getting harder to concentrate. I turned reluctantly and read the French words under the rather graphic illustration he’d pointed to. “That one is known as ‘trapping the snake.’ ”
He nuzzled my neck as he reached for the top button of my shirt. “And exactly what are they doing there?”
I didn’t have to look too carefully at the drawing of two people, one on top of the other, lying in opposite directions. I’d already spent way too much time studying it. “Each person holds on to their partner’s feet. The movement is more of a rocking motion. It’s supposed to be… more pleasurable for the woman.”
“I’m in favor of that,” he whispered in my ear, causing a few of my synapses to snap and fire.
“Yeah, me, too.” Did I really say all that out loud? Were we having a conversation? Why wasn’t he tearing my clothes off and driving the nail home? But wait. Dinner was cooking in the oven. Oh, God.
He’d finished with my buttons and was pushing my blouse off my shoulders. “Do I smell something cooking?” he murmured against my skin as his mouth traveled along my jawline.
I barely heard him through a fog of pleasure. “What?”
His deep chuckle reverberated as he raised his head and gazed into my eyes. “I said, I’m going to kiss you again. Then I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the bedroom, where we’ll conduct research for your book.”
“Oh, yes, research,” I said, smiling up at him. “But dinner…”
“I’ll turn off the oven.”
Much later that night, long after we’d had dinner in bed and conducted more research, Derek shifted his pillow and sat up. “I had to fire two employees today.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That can’t be easy.”
“On the contrary, it was the easiest thing I did all day.” He tilted his head to make eye contact with me. “Why didn’t you tell me about those women at my office party?”
“What?” I blinked a few times, then rolled over and sat up. This was not a conversation I’d imagined having in bed. In fact, this was not a conversation I ever thought we’d be having at all. I guessed I was hoping the problem would just go away.
“Corrine told me,” he said.
“So you’ve known about it for days?”
“No, I just found out this morning. However, Corinne has known for days. She heard them talking and saw your reaction. She expected you to tell me and thought that at any moment I’d storm in and fire the women. When I didn’t do anything, she finally brought it up. Why didn’t you say something to me?”
I sighed and adjusted my pillow
to get comfortable. “I’ll admit I was hurt by their words, Derek, but I wasn’t going to whine about it to you. They were just women being… you know.” I wasn’t about to call his employees bitches, but I could tell by his frown that he got the gist. “Believe me, my biggest problem wasn’t with what they said about me, but the fact that they were so disrespectful to you. But even so, I still didn’t feel I could say anything. They work for you, they’re loyal to you, and I assumed you trusted them. For all I know…” I stared at my hands.
“For all you know, they were speaking the truth.” Troubled, he reached out and brushed my hair back from my forehead, then cupped my cheek with his hand. “They weren’t.”
“I’m glad.”
He nodded, then gritted his teeth and said, “Can you put yourself in my shoes for a moment and imagine my reaction when Corinne told me what she’d heard? I felt… ill, absolutely sick to my stomach, that people I thought I could trust would betray me by hurting someone I care so deeply about. I was furious. I didn’t want to simply fire them. I wanted to throw them into a dungeon somewhere and leave them to the dogs.”
I smiled forlornly. “That would teach them to cross you.”
“Indeed.” He grimaced. “Sadly, Corinne pointed out that I have no dungeon here in the States, so my only remedy was to fire them.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yes, so am I, because it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. On top of that, I could only fire two of the women. Corinne reminded me of all the red tape we had to go through to get the other two transferred over here from London, so they’ve been sent to different departments, put on probation, and had their security clearances revoked.”
Murder Under Cover Page 20
