Murder Under Cover (6 page)

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.