Murder Under Cover (11 page)

“What are you doing?”

I jumped about three feet off my chair. “Nothing.”

Robin laughed and circled my chair to see exactly what I was doing. “Oh, right. You were looking at dirty pictures.”

“They’re not dirty.”

“So why did you jump like I caught you doing something bad?”

“You just startled me.” I closed the book and wrapped it carefully in the cloth.

Robin continued chuckling. “Your face is red.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, and laughed as I picked up the book and took it back to its safe nest in my steel-lined hall closet, under the false floor where I locked my most important documents and the rare books I worked on.

“I’m going stir-crazy,” Robin said, following me down the hall.

“Did you get what you wanted off the Internet?”

“Yeah. Now I feel like walking or something.”

“We could walk to South Park for coffee.”

“Sounds great.”

We threw on jackets and strolled two blocks over to the small city park that was my favorite discovery when I moved to the area. It was a green belt of trees, grass, and a playground one short block long, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of city traffic and surrounded by town houses, local businesses, shops, and restaurants. The coffeehouse stood at the far end of the block. There was one empty table outside, so we grabbed it and sat to enjoy lattes and scones.

“I’m sorry about last night and the whole mob thing,” I said, once I’d taken a few sips of my double-shot latte.

“No, you were just trying to figure things out. I thought about it later, after I went to bed. Sorry. I should’ve been more open to the possibilities.” She shook her head in regret. “I didn’t even know this guy. I don’t know why I was being so defensive.”

I tore off a bit of scone and munched as I thought about it for a moment. “I’d say you were defending yourself as much as him. In your mind you’re thinking that if Alex was a bad guy, then you made a bad decision. But you didn’t. None of this is your fault.”

“Oh, please.” She laughed without humor. “For all I know, he could’ve been a serial killer. Those guys are supposed to be charming, right? Hello, Ted Bundy?”

“True enough.”

“Alex was definitely charming,” she admitted.

“Fine, but he wasn’t a serial killer.”

She sat back in her chair. “He was something.”

“Still doesn’t make it your fault. This isn’t about you picking a bad guy. There’s something bigger going on.”

“Maybe he wasn’t a bad guy, but he was definitely the wrong guy. And, Brooklyn, I brought a guy I didn’t even
know
into my home.” Her laugh was short and desperate. “My home? I brought him into my bed! What the hell was I thinking?”

“You were thinking that he was cute and fun and sexy and charming and—”

“I should have been smarter about it.”

“I’ll agree with you there. Did you use protection?”

“Of course! I’m not that stupid.”

“Then what else are we supposed to do? Should we have guys fill out questionnaires before we go out with them? Once in a while we meet a nice guy and we take a chance, that’s all.”

She nodded, gripped her latte with both hands, and sipped. “I . . . I was tired. Jet-lagged. I’d just spent three days with my mother. She makes me crazy, makes me feel . . . you know, inferior, somehow. She fills a room until there’s no air left for me to breathe. So I guess when some good-looking guy expressed some interest in me, I just . . . grabbed that attention with both hands, you know?”

I touched her arm. “I know. You can’t keep dwelling on this or you really will go crazy. So please stop beating yourself up over it.”

She rolled her eyes, then smiled tightly. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Good.”

She sighed. “Thank you.”

“I’m not sure why, but you’re welcome.”

“Just for hanging in there with me.” She stared down at her latte as if looking into the past. At that night. She shivered.

“Come on, let’s go back,” I said. “It’s cold out here.”

She stood and zipped up her jacket. “It’s springtime in San Francisco. Of course it’s cold.”

As we strolled up Brannan, I pointed out the new and elegant tower of condos being constructed one block south of us. I wasn’t happy with the high-rise aspect, but any construction was a good sign that the neighborhood was once again vibrant after a year or two of economic uncertainty.

“This is a great area,” Robin said, gazing around.

“Yeah, I was so lucky to find my loft. I really love it around here.”

I lived on the south edge of SoMa, or South of Market, close to Giants Stadium (which my dad loved), with a view of the bay. Yes, you could turn a corner and see the random blighted, burned-out factory or deserted housing project, but that was true of most neighborhoods in the country these days. I tended to avoid those dodgy blocks and stuck close to the fun parts. Overall, this was a lively, happening area. And it was freewayclose to everything else in the Bay Area.

“Maybe I should think about moving over here,” Robin said.

“That would be great,” I said, excited at the thought of her living even closer to me. “We could have so much fun. But, Robin, that’s not something you need to think about right now.”

“I know.” She shivered from the breeze that seemed to be blowing straight off the bay and right up Brannan. “Especially if this street is always a wind tunnel like it is today.”

“Not always, but it’s definitely cold today. Let’s run.”

We scurried up the block, wrapping our arms around ourselves to keep warm.

“Hey,” I said as we slowed down, passing one of my favorite neighborhood Thai restaurants. “We should take you shopping later.”

She eyed me. “You hate shopping.”

“But you need clothes to wear.”

“True. We’ll go someplace cheap and get some sweats. It’s not like I have anything to dress up for.”

“That works for me.”

She made a face. “I guess I should try to find out when I can move back to my place.” She didn’t sound happy at the idea, and who could blame her? On the other hand, she did have to reclaim her home or she’d never feel safe anywhere again. Not that I would ever push her to leave.

“We can call the police when we get home,” I said. “But you know you can stay with me as long as you want.”

“Thanks, but I’m starting to feel like a third wheel.”

“No, you’re not.”

She smiled. “It would be different if you and Derek were an old married couple, but you’ve just begun a new relationship. My being there has got to be cutting into your personal romance time.”

“Not so much,” I said, grinning. “You don’t need to worry about us. We’re doing just fine.”

She glanced at me sideways and wiggled her eyebrows. “Really? Care to share the details?”

I refused to blush. “No. But much to my surprise, everything’s going really well with us.”

“Good. You deserve a wonderful man in your life.”

“Yes, I do,” I said, laughing.

“But still, I shouldn’t stay there much longer.”

“You’re going to make me mad if you keep saying that.”

“Okay, I’ll shut up.”

“If you really don’t want to stay with me, we could drive you up to Dharma for a few days.”

She looked puzzled at the suggestion. “If I want to go to Dharma, I can jump in my car and go.”

“Yeah, but this way, we could keep you company. It might be hard to drive all that way alone.” Truthfully, I was afraid a long drive like that would give Robin too much time to focus on the nightmare of what had happened and to start punishing herself again. “We can drive you up, stay for dinner, then drive back. You can give us a call anytime and we’ll come pick you up.”

“Listen to you, saying ‘us’ and ‘we.’ It’s very cute.”

Now I was blushing, but I ignored the sensation. “So, what do you say?”

“I wouldn’t have my car,” she argued. “It would be weird.”

“You know you can borrow anyone’s car up there.” I waved the thought away, realizing that Robin would never go for it. She liked to be in charge of her comings and goings, hated borrowing anything. It was a matter of control, and I could totally relate. Being stranded in Dharma at the whim of whoever was in charge of picking her up would make her nuts.

“Never mind,” I said. “It was a silly idea. You’re too independent to want to be anywhere without your own car. I’d feel the same way.”

“Thanks for the offer, though.”

“You’re welcome.” We stopped at the light at Third Street and an idea occurred to me. “But if you did go up there for a few days, I could take care of getting your apartment cleaned up for you. You could relax, get a massage, hang out with friends, then come back to a sparkling clean apartment. What do you think?”

She didn’t say anything, but her lips were twisted in thought. Finally she looked at me. “I would hate to leave that up to you.”

“You’d really hate it, or you’d just feel bad about it?”

“I’d feel really bad about it.”

“Okay, then it’s settled.” I nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“That’s crazy. You don’t have time to do that for me.”

I met her gaze. “Do you trust me?”

Scowling, she muttered, “I guess.”

I laughed. “And would you do it for me?”

“Of course.” She didn’t have to think about it.

“There you go.”

The light changed and we crossed Third just as a woman on the other side of the street began screaming in some foreign language I couldn’t name. I didn’t think much of it, as I’d become inured to the occasional deranged rantings of homeless people as they walked down the street. But curiosity won out, and Robin and I turned to see what the problem was.

The dark-haired woman was young and fairly attractive in jeans and a camel jacket. She didn’t appear to be hurt, just livid. She pointed with urgency in our direction as she continued screeching. Looking both ways up and down Brannan, she caught a break in traffic and started running across the street.

“Jeez,” Robin muttered, glancing around. “She’s ready to kill someone.”

I looked around for the target of her wrath and noticed a heavyset woman dressed in black pants, black trench coat, head scarf, and dark glasses, standing in front of my building. Was the other woman yelling at her?

As the screaming woman from across the street got closer, the trench-coated woman took off running up the block and disappeared around the corner.

What was that all about? She looked vaguely familiar, but I didn’t have time to worry, because at that moment, the screaming woman rushed onto the sidewalk, stormed right up to Robin, and punched her in the face.

I gasped and tried to grab hold of the woman, but she knocked Robin down to the sidewalk, then jumped on top of her. It was surreal. She was pummeling Robin, slapping and beating her in the head and face as she babbled and cried in some foreign language.

Robin yelled back as she swatted at her attacker, trying to push her away while also trying to protect her face. I managed to grab the woman by one shoulder and arm and yank her back, so she turned and slapped me. Robin got to her knees and grabbed hold of the crazed woman by both arms so she couldn’t swing out and hit either of us. Robin struggled to a standing position, yanking the woman up with her and away from striking distance.

“You keel him, you beech!” the woman screamed in English as she wiggled and squirmed to get away. “You keeller! You keel Alexei!”

“What the hell?” Robin cried, struggling to keep a grip on both her arms. “I didn’t kill him!”

The woman slammed her foot down on Robin’s, causing Robin to release the wildcat and swear loudly as she hopped around.

Crazy Lady was stretching her arm back to slug Robin again when I grabbed hold of that arm and clutched it tightly in mine. Robin snatched her other arm, and between the two of us we got her under control for the moment.

She kept repeating something in her language. It sounded like, “
Date-eh it-eh om you! Date-eh it-eh om you!
” Something like that. It was hard to understand, since she was belting it out at the top of her lungs.

“Can you hold her?” I yelled, and reached onehanded into my purse for my phone. “I’m calling the police.”

“Hurry.”

“Nooo!” the woman screeched, and ripped one arm away from Robin’s grip. “Keeller!”

“Jesus, shut up!” Robin shouted.

True to California life, people were staring at us, but not stopping. Heck, in this neighborhood they probably thought we were doing a street performance.

She whipped her arm away from my grasp and turned to slug Robin again. I came from behind and shoved my knees into the backs of her legs, causing her knees to buckle. Robin pushed her down to the ground and sat on her back, straddling her so she couldn’t escape. But she bucked and rolled, making it look like Robin was riding one of those mechanical bulls.

“Call the police!” Robin shouted.

“Already got them,” I said, and rattled off my address to the 911 dispatcher.

The crazy cow kept trying to buck Robin off her. She tried swinging her arms around to smack Robin, but it was useless.

I noticed Robin’s eye was beginning to swell badly. Her strength was ebbing.

I heard sirens. “Police are on their way.”

That news caused the woman to bellow and rear up again, so I sank down and sat on her legs to keep her from kicking. Together Robin and I managed to hold her down.

But the woman wasn’t finished. She swung her elbow back and connected with Robin’s thigh. Robin howled in pain but didn’t give an inch.

Robin was usually the nicest human being on the face of the planet, but she’d had a hard week and wasn’t willing to be pushed anymore. She grabbed a thick clump of the woman’s hair and yanked at it. “Chill out or die, bitch.”