Murder Under Cover

the premises for a while.”

“Sure.”

As Jaglom and Derek spoke with each other in hushed tones, Lee pulled two pairs of disposable rubber gloves from her bag. She handed one pair to her partner, cutting short the niceties. “Let’s do this, Nate. Watch where you’re stepping.”

“Lead on,” Jaglom said, and the two disappeared inside Robin’s flat.

Within forty-five minutes, the medical examiner and a number of crime lab people were crawling all over the property. Robin’s neighbor Sharon invited us to hang out at her place while the police combed through every inch of Robin’s home.

After one of the criminologists swabbed Robin’s bloodstained skin and hair, she was allowed to take a shower in Sharon’s bathroom. Nervous to be alone, Robin begged me to sit in the bathroom with her while she showered. We both relaxed a bit once she’d washed all the dried blood away.

Derek spoke to the police a while longer, then left to go back to my place to shower and dress for work. It was Sunday, but since he’d been gone all week, he’d arranged several meetings that couldn’t be canceled. Once he was gone, I dozed on Sharon’s couch.

At some point, Inspector Lee took Robin into Sharon’s kitchen to ask her a bunch of questions. After an hour or so, Lee went back downstairs and Robin curled up on Sharon’s recliner. She slept soundly, but not calmly as she tossed and turned and moaned every so often. Poor Sharon didn’t know what to do to help, and truthfully I didn’t either. We commiserated in her kitchen as she made a pot of soup. She said she always made soup when she was worried.

We’d been there for over three hours and I had thumbed through most of the magazines on the coffee table when Inspector Lee walked into Sharon’s apartment again. Robin was still stretched out in the chair, but I stood and watched the cop as she folded her arms tightly across her chest and flexed her neck muscles. I could tell something was up.

“I have to ask you to come downtown with me for further questioning, Ms. Tully.”

Robin blinked, then looked at me in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Wait.” I jumped up from the couch. “No. What for? She’s innocent. You can’t arrest her.”

Inspector Lee thrust her hand out in a gesture of understanding. “I’m not arresting her, Ms. Wainwright, only taking her in for further questioning.”

“That’s just one small step toward county,” I said, angry now. “This is unacceptable.”

“Calm down, Ms. Wainwright,” she said in a patient tone she probably used with lunatics.

“I won’t calm down. This is Robin we’re talking about. She’s a victim here.”

“Ms. Wainwright, please.”

I hated that she was calling me Ms. Wainwright, all formal and patronizing. It was not a good sign, and it didn’t bode well for Robin’s future. I was feeling all kinds of betrayal, because Inspector Lee should’ve been on our side. She and I were practically friends, we saw each other so often.

Okay, maybe not friends exactly. More like crime scene buddies. Why did she need to question Robin any further? Why wasn’t she out trying to find the murderer who’d killed Alex and ruined Robin’s life?

Meanwhile, Robin could barely move the recliner up to a sitting position.

“Look at her,” I said indignantly, pointing at Robin. “She can barely sit up. Oh, crap.” That was when it finally hit me with both barrels. I’d wondered earlier if maybe she’d taken a sleeping pill. It had been bothering me off and on for hours, but I kept getting distracted.

“Robin, did you take a sleeping pill last night?”

“Huh?” she said, taken aback. “No, I never use them. You know that. I hate the hangover. I’d rather just get up and work when I can’t sleep.”

“Why do you seem so groggy?”

She swiped her forehead and scratched her head. “I don’t know. I just can’t seem to snap out of it.”

I’d thought it was the trauma she’d been through, but that couldn’t be the only reason Robin had been so out of it all day. I whipped around to Inspector Lee. “Have you considered giving her a blood test? I wouldn’t be surprised if that guy drugged her last night.”

“If he drugged her, she wouldn’t remember having sex,” Lee pointed out. “That’s the point of Rohypnol, after all.”

“I know, I know,” I said, pacing the floor between Robin’s chair and Inspector Lee. “But maybe he drugged her after they had sex. And maybe it wasn’t Rohypnol. Maybe it was just some kind of strong sleeping pill.” I turned to Robin. “Did you have anything to eat or drink after… you know.”

“Sex, Wainwright,” Lee said. “They had sex. Jeez, don’t get all puritanical on me now.”

I shot her a dirty look, then went back to Robin. “After sex, did you have anything to eat or drink?”

Robin had been watching Inspector Lee and me go back and forth like a tennis match. Now she had to think for a moment. “Yeah, we shared the rest of a bottle of wine.”

“Oh.” My shoulders sagged in disappointment. “You shared it?”

“Yeah.” Her forehead creased in concentration. “He went into the kitchen and poured two glasses and brought them back to bed.”

“Aha.” I turned to Lee in triumph. “Some of these drugs stay in the system for only twenty-four hours, right? I want a blood test taken right now.”

“What are you, a lawyer?” Lee asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “You don’t make demands of me.”

I usually enjoyed trading barbs and quips with Inspector Lee, but this wasn’t funny. This was Robin’s life we were talking about.

“No, I’m not a lawyer,” I said as my irritation escalated. “But I can get one over here faster than you can shout benzodiazepine. Just say the word.”

She folded her arms across her chest and tried to stare me down. I stared right back.

“Fine, Wainwright,” she said finally. “We’ll run a damn blood test.”

“Thank you,” I snapped.

“I was going to do it anyway.” She found her cell phone.

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

She gave me a sideways glance. “And miss the fun of watching you go all F. Lee Bailey on my ass? No way.”

I tried to channel my mother by concentrating on keeping my breaths even, my thoughts positive, my dosha aligned. But I was still riled. “I was beginning to think you were playing good cop, bad cop. Without the good cop.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I snorted politely. “You would.”

She chuckled. “I really like you, Wainwright.”

“Jeez,” Robin muttered. “I’d hate to see you with someone you don’t like.”

Chapter 4

It was past eleven a.m. when the assistant medical examiner ran up to Sharon’s to draw Robin’s blood for analysis in the lab. He also recommended a urine test and handed her a small plastic cup.

Robin made a face. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he said. “Date-rape drugs can be detected in urine and hair follicles a lot longer than in the blood.”

“Good to know,” I said.

Normally, the medical examiner wouldn’t run a test like this, but he’d agreed as a favor for Inspector Lee. It made it a lot easier for Robin, but she was still a little grossed out as she took the plastic cup from him in front of all of us.