Kate Carlisle: Murder Under Cover

She nodded slightly. “I… We… um, we went to dinner. Then he came back… to my place. We had some wine… and… you know…” She paused and met my gaze.

“Yes, I know.”

“Then… we went to sleep.”

“He spent the night at your house.”

She nodded, then signaled for more water. It was slow going, but she was beginning to come around. Her skin wasn’t quite so pale and damp, and her eyes seemed clearer than before.

“I slept,” she whispered. “I’ve never slept so well. It was… it was wonderful. So deep. Peaceful.”

I looked at Derek. “She’s always been a really light sleeper. If she wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, she’ll get up and start working on her sculptures.”

Even when she was young, Robin didn’t sleep through the night. My mom used to think it was because she was worried about her own mother.

“I woke up,” Robin continued slowly. “I needed to use the bathroom. I was so sleepy. Groggy, you know?”

She sought our acknowledgment after every other sentence, so at this, Derek nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“I came back to bed. I was so sleepy, I almost tripped over a pillow on the floor. I picked it up. There were marks on it, like… like dirt streaks. It was weird. I could barely keep my eyes open, but you know how I get a little anal retentive about things.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, relieved that small pieces of her personality seemed to be returning.

“I didn’t want to wake Alex by turning on the bedroom light, so I took the pillow into the bathroom to look at it.”

She swallowed, started to sniffle; then one teardrop fell, followed by another as she continued. “It… it was blood. I thought maybe he’d cut himself. Then… then I happened to look in the mirror. I screamed. I had blood on my face. Clumped in my hair. On my hands.”

She stopped to try to swallow again. For a second or two, I thought she might throw up. I felt close to it myself.

“I ran back to check on Alex and saw more streaks on the sheets. There was enough light coming in from the street that I could see dark streaks and… and blotches. Everywhere. I yelled his name to wake him up, then shook him. I flipped the light on and that’s when I saw…”

“What did you see?” Derek asked with remarkable calm.

She covered her face with both hands. “I was so afraid. I hated to leave him, but I had to get out of there. I ran. I’m so ashamed.”

“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.