Murder Under Cover (4 page)

“Tell me what you saw before you ran,” Derek said evenly.

“Blood. Everywhere.” She shuddered uncontrollably. “Alex. Dead. Blood trickling down his face, on the sheets. On the wall above the bed. On my hands, my stomach, my legs. I was covered in his blood.”

“Did you see a weapon?” Derek asked carefully. “Was he stabbed? Shot? Could you tell?”

Grimacing, she said, “No. No weapon. Just . . . b-bullet holes. In his . . .” She couldn’t say the words, just covered her eyes again.

“Robin?”

She nodded, then managed to rub her forehead. “Here.” Then she touched her chest. “Here.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head and rocked slightly back and forth.

“Somebody shot him in the head and the chest?” I exchanged a quick, apprehensive glance with Derek. “While you were sleeping?”

“And I never woke up,” she whispered on a sob. “I was curled up next to him, holding him, but I never woke up.”

“It’s okay,” I said, and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

We sat like that for a long moment, rocking slowly. I watched Derek, whose eyes were narrowed in thought.

Finally Robin eased away and looked at me, then Derek. “Who would do that? Why? In my house? How did they . . . ? Oh, God. They were in my house.” Her face contorted into a mask of disgust and pain and dread. Her entire body shivered as more silent tears fell.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” I squeezed her hand, wishing for things I had no control over. “We really need to call the police now.”

“Yes,” Derek said, standing. “We’ve already let too much time pass.” He was clearly anxious to get the police involved. He couldn’t help himself, having been on the proper side of law enforcement his entire life. “We’ll put clothes on, get Robin bundled up and in the car; then I’ll call Inspector Lee on the drive over.”

Robin grabbed my hand. “They’ll think I did it. But I didn’t do it. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course you didn’t do it,” I said indignantly. “You’re the victim here.” And there was Alex, I amended silently. I met Derek’s gaze again to telepathically convey the message that I expected him to make sure the police didn’t do something stupid, like arrest Robin.

His mouth twisted into his version of a determined grin as he telepathically assured me back that he would do his best. His best was pretty darn good, so I was satisfied with that.

Robin’s gaze darted around my living room; then she stared at her hands in dismay. “Can I take a shower first?”

“No, honey,” I said gently. “You might destroy evidence, and the more evidence we destroy, the worse it’ll look to the police.”

Derek’s expression of surprise almost made me laugh. Believe me, it was a shock to hear myself say that, too, because, you know, been there, done that, tried to wash off the evidence. But I guess I’d learned a little something from being involved in so many murders over the past six months. I wouldn’t say I was starting to think like a cop, but at least I was no longer doing the kinds of stupid things that invariably led to my name being put at the top of the suspect list.

“There’s one thing we can do,” Derek said, looking at me. “If you have a clean cloth to spare, I’ll wipe the blood off Robin’s hands and give the cloth to the police.”

“Thank you,” Robin whispered.

“Perfect,” I said, flashing a grateful smile at Derek.

He took care of washing off her hands, then left the room to change into street clothes. I took his place on the coffee table and leaned forward to grab hold of Robin’s arms. “I want you to know you won’t go through this alone. Things will get better eventually, but it’s going to be slow and awful for a while.”

“I know you’ll be there for me,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “That’s why I came here.”

“Oh, come on,” I teased. “You came here because you knew Derek would be here.”

“Well, that, too. I’m really glad he’s here.”

“Me, too.”

Her smile faded. “You know what’s awful?”

“What’s that?”

“I was too flipped out to put on shoes. My feet are filthy. I hate that.”

“I’m sorry. As soon as we talk to the police you can shower everything away.”

She giggled. I wasn’t sure why. It was a sweet sound—or it would’ve been, if not for the fact that Robin rarely giggled like that for no reason. Was this just another way of dealing with the stress and shock? Or was she coming unglued?

I couldn’t say it to her face, but I was going to need her to snap out of this soon. I couldn’t take it when she wasn’t strong and firing on all cylinders. It was as if the balance of power in the universe was askew, and I didn’t like that one bit. And when had this become all about me and my wants and needs?

Robin rested her head against the couch, and I felt my eyes mist up as I contemplated the hell she’d be going through over the next few days.

 

Derek slowed the elegant black Bentley, then pulled into an available parking space two doors down from Robin’s flat on Elizabeth Street. The police had not arrived yet.

I got out of the car and stared up at Robin’s building, wondering what the police would see when they got inside. Everything looked deceptively calm and quiet from here, but I knew that wouldn’t be the case for long.

The Noe Valley duplex was designed in the classic San Francisco style, with a small two-door garage on the street and a set of stairs on the side that led up to a wide outdoor landing with two doors. One door opened into Robin’s flat on the second floor, and the other door opened to another set of stairs that led up to her neighbors’ apartment on the third floor.

Robin’s friends Gilbert and Sharon lived upstairs. They all had access to a tiny rooftop patio, where they’d thrown a number of legendary parties. The view looking out toward Twin Peaks was a great perk.

Robin liked to claim that Noe Valley, with its upscale urban professional population, had more baby strollers than humans. It was a scary statistic, if true. But I think she had a tendency to exaggerate the facts after being clipped in the ankle one too many times while out walking.

Derek held Robin’s arm as we walked to the stairs.

“Do I have to go inside?” she asked.

“No, you wait here,” he said, “but I’d like to take a quick look before the police arrive.”

Robin handed him the key and he jogged up the stairs, then disappeared inside. Robin and I clutched each other’s hands as we sat down on the bottom steps.

It was barely seven o’clock in the morning, still cold enough for our breath to be frosty. I’d thrown on jeans, boots, a sweater, and a down vest, but I felt the chill. I’d loaned Robin a pair of ill-fitting sneakers, some sweatpants and a shirt, along with a wool scarf and another jacket, but she was still shaking. A jogger raced by; then a dog walker strolled down the walk. Both checked us out as they passed.

“Let’s get off the sidewalk, okay?” I said.

“Yeah, good idea.” She grabbed my arm and we walked up to the landing outside her door. It was spacious and filled with plant stands, two directors’ chairs, and a small table along the side rail. I steered Robin over to one of the chairs and helped her sit. I knew she often sat out here with her neighbors, drinking wine and watching the world go by. There wouldn’t be much of that going on today.

“Sorry for being such a wimp,” she said.

“You’re kidding, right?” I took the other chair and scooted closer to her. “Give yourself a break. You’ve been through hell—plus you’re covered in . . . you know. You’re nowhere near being a wimp. Don’t forget who you’re with. I’m the queen of the fainting couch, remember?”

“Oh, God, I forgot all about your thing with blood.” She started to reach for my hand in sympathy, then shrank back. “I’ve been touching you. You must be totally flipped out.”

“I’m not.” To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it in a while, but now I shuddered at the memory of touching her bloody hands and feet.

She shook her head in self-disgust as she stared at her own hands, mostly clean now. “It’s so awful to think . . .”

“Stop thinking about it.”

She sighed. “You’re a total hero to put up with all this.”

“You’d do the same for me,” I said, and resolutely grabbed hold of her hand again.

“Maybe. But I’m glad I don’t have to prove that right now.” She leaned her shoulder against mine. “And can I say again how glad I am that Derek’s here with us?”

“Yes, you can. I’m glad, too. He knows what he’s doing, and his connections should get us some answers a lot faster than if it were just you or me.”

She stared at her front door. “I don’t know how he can go in there, though.”

“He wants to check everything out before the police show up. Once they get here, he might not have the chance.”

“Better him than me,” she murmured.

“Or me,” I said. “I love you a lot, but there’s no way I would go inside your place right now.”

“There’s no way I would let you.” She shivered again and I put my arm around her. I knew it was crazy, but I was actually dying to know what Derek was doing inside her place. Robin had described a horrific scene. I wondered if it would help if I could see it and be able to relate to what she’d been through last night.

Who was I kidding? There was no way I could walk in there and not pass out within ten seconds. And wouldn’t that be fun for everyone? No, I just wasn’t a good enough friend. But I could live with that.

Less than a minute later, two police cars arrived. One of them stopped while the other made a U-turn to grab a parking place. I jumped up and pounded on Robin’s door to alert Derek. I knew he wouldn’t want to be caught at the crime scene. When he didn’t respond, I opened the door ever so slightly.

“Derek?”

He didn’t answer, so I pushed the door open a little more and stuck my head inside. I wasn’t about to step beyond the doorway. “Derek?” I called out louder.

“Right there, love,” he said from the bedroom.

I could see Derek from where I stood. He was standing by the overstuffed chintz chair in Robin’s bedroom, where it looked like the man had thrown his clothes. Derek held the man’s jacket as he checked the pockets.

“The police are here,” I said with more urgency.

“Good,” he muttered. “Be right with you.” He threw the jacket down on the arm of the chair and walked quickly but cautiously to the front door.

But now that he’d moved, I could see what he’d been blocking before. It was the view of Robin’s bed. And the dead man lying there. And the blood. And his eyes, open, staring at nothing. And the small, dark bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

Derek caught me as I slid to the floor.

Swearing ripely, Derek dragged me out the door and pushed me back into the chair next to Robin. Then he shoved my head between my knees to keep me from passing out altogether. I knew he did it lovingly.

“Oh, no,” Robin cried as she grabbed hold of my hand. “What did you see in there?”

“Nothing, nothing,” I said when I could breathe again, then waved away her concern over my idiocy. “I’m okay.”

“Why in God’s name did you go inside?” Derek demanded as he paced back and forth in front of my chair.

I sucked in one big gulp of air and sat up. “I didn’t go inside,” I insisted weakly. “I had no intention of doing so. I
looked
inside. Big difference. I was just trying to get your attention.”

“Well, you got it,” he said, scowling.

“I’m sorry,” I said, humiliated by my weakness. “I was just worried the police would find you and arrest you or something.”

He gritted his teeth, then drew a heavy breath. “Thank you, love. That was very thoughtful. Unnecessary, but thoughtful.”

“I know. Sorry.”

He nodded and smoothed my hair back from my forehead. His jaw was clenched but he said nothing more. He didn’t have to. We’d both seen something awful inside Robin’s apartment.

SFPD Detective Inspector Janice Lee stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looked up, and shook her head. “Wainwright, we’ve simply got to stop meeting like this.”

“You’re telling me,” I said as I stood up to greet her. Janice Lee had been assigned to the first murder investigation I’d been involved in, when my old bookbinding mentor, Abraham Karastovsky, was killed. Then just last month, she’d investigated Layla Fontaine’s murder at the Bay Area Book Arts Center. I’d been working at BABA at the time of the killing and was able to give Lee some help with the suspects. So we were like old friends, only not so much.

“How are you, Inspector?” I asked, shaking her hand.

“Can’t complain. Nobody listens,” she said with a shrug. Her voice wasn’t as husky as usual, and I took that as a good sign that she’d managed to break her smoking habit. She’d gained a few more pounds, and with her exotic Asian-American features and long, shiny black hair, she looked prettier than ever. I could learn to hate her if I didn’t respect her so much.

“Hello, Inspector Lee,” Derek said cordially.

“Always a pleasure, Commander Stone,” she said, her tone a bit lighter. I suppose she had a soft spot for Derek—along with every other woman on the planet.

Four uniformed officers climbed the stairs in Inspector Lee’s wake. With eight people standing around, the normally spacious landing was starting to feel claustrophobic.

Derek passed Robin’s house key to Inspector Lee, then asked, “Will Inspector Jaglom be joining you?”

“Yeah, he should be here any minute. Why?”

Derek smiled. “Just curious. You two work well together.”

“Yes, we do,” she said, casting a wary glance his way. “Once we’ve seen what’s going on inside the apartment, I’ll have my uniforms canvass the neighborhood and watch things here until the ME and the lab folks arrive.”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said with just a touch of sarcasm. “What’s going on, Commander? Have you already been inside the premises?”