Free Murder Under Cover by Kate Carlisle

“Did you sleep okay?”
    “I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep.” She stretched her arms and yawned. “But the good thing is, I fell asleep right away last night, probably because of the wine.”
    “Wine always helps,” I said. “Mm, coffee, too.”
    Derek walked into the kitchen to retrieve the third stool I kept there. He pulled it close and sat facing us.
    After a few more sips of coffee, I started to wake up. “So what have you two been talking about?”
    Robin turned. “Derek’s agreed to talk to the police so I can get some things out of my apartment.”
    “You have?” I said. “That’s nice.”
    “He’s just a hero,” Robin said, shaking her head. “That’s all there is to it.”
    “You really are,” I said, holding the warm mug with both hands. “Thank you.”
    He shook his head. “That’s enough out of you two.”
    “It’s cute the way he protests,” Robin said.
    Scowling, he pushed himself up from the stool. “I was going to make French toast, but now I’m not sure you deserve it.”
    “Oh, we do, we do,” I crooned.
    “We’ll be good, I promise,” Robin said, then giggled. Again, giggles weren’t her style, but it was fun to see her able to tease and enjoy herself after her ordeal.
    Over French toast, bacon, juice, and coffee at the dining room table, Robin compiled a list of items she wanted from her place. Most urgent, besides underwear and her favorite jeans, were her computer and the briefcase that held her calendar and tour and travel information.
    As she spoke, I noticed that she really did seem better. Not so frightened of her own shadow, and not so muzzy as she’d been yesterday. Derek and I exchanged glances and I started to say something, then changed my mind. It was too soon.
    Robin glanced from Derek to me and back to him. “Oh, go ahead and ask me the question. I know you’re dying to.”
    “What question?” I asked.
    “The one that’s been hovering over the room with all the subtlety of Rodan for the past ten minutes.”
    “Hey, we were being sensitive to your needs,” I insisted.
    She smiled in acquiescence. “Well, you can stop it. I assume you want to ask me about Alex.”
    “Who’s Rodan?” Derek asked.
    Robin sat back and stared at him. “You’ve never heard of Rodan?”
    “The flying monster?” I added. “Godzilla’s buddy?”
    “I know of Godzilla,” Derek said, as he finished off a piece of bacon.
    “ Rodan is another old monster movie,” I said. “My parents let us watch it when we were kids. It was very scary at the time. Prehistoric flying reptiles, killer bad breath.”
    Robin nodded. “Rodan blew deadly gaseous fumes out of his beaked mouth.”
    “Fascinating.” Derek shook his head. “Clearly I’ve lived a life of deprivation.”
    “I’ll say,” Robin said, and turned to me. “Jeez, we can really go off on a tangent.”
    “You think?” I said, then shifted in my chair. “Okay, since you’re feeling better, I’m hoping you’ll tell Derek about Alex.”
    “Sure.” She settled back and seemed to gather her thoughts. Her features tightened and I could see the flash of guilt and pain in her eyes. “I told you he was wonderful, right? He was. Handsome, funny, charming. He obviously had money, not that it mattered. He liked to do interesting things, or at least that was the impression he gave me.”
    “What kinds of things?” Derek asked.
    “Oh, you know. He said he liked to go to art galleries, museums, the park, the beach. He talked about all kinds of music. Jazz and rock and bluegrass. He even mentioned the symphony. He loved food, all kinds. We first bonded over aloo jeera and kati rolls at Kasa. But he also raved about Giant dogs and garlic fries.” She sighed again and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I still can’t believe this.”
    “So he liked baseball, too?” I asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “A regular metrosexual,” I said, then added, “I’m not judging.”
    “That’s okay. I don’t