Free Murder Under Cover by Kate Carlisle Page A

think they really exist.”
    “An urban legend?”
    She paused to contemplate that one, then shrugged. “Anyway, he was adorable. And he liked me, Brooklyn. He liked women. You could tell, you know?”
    “I know.”
    “Of course you do. He was a lot like Derek. Well, except he didn’t carry a gun, of course. And he wasn’t all . . . Well, I mean, he was normal.”
    “Excuse me?” I said.
    Derek laughed.
    Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean . . . sorry.”
    Waving away her apology, I said, “It’s okay. He’s really not normal.”
    “Yes, he is,” Robin insisted.
    I shook my head. “No, he’s not.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Derek said.
    “You’re extraordinary.” I smiled at him.
    “Darling, you’ll make me blush.”
    I laughed at that. “You’ve never blushed in your life.”
    “You could drive me to it.”
    Robin cleared her throat. “The point is that—”
    “The point is that Derek is dangerous and carries a gun,” I said. “He takes risks. He walks on the wild side.”
    “You’re getting carried away again,” Derek murmured.
    “No, no,” Robin said, leaning forward and planting one elbow on the table. “I get what she means. Okay, Alex wasn’t so much like Derek. He was more laidback. He reminded me of a . . . a fun-loving aristocrat. He wanted to show me a good time, take me places, spend money on me. That’s what he said, anyway. He wanted to make me laugh. God, he was sexy. He made me feel sexy. I haven’t felt that way in a while.”
    Not since my brother, Austin, broke things off with you , I thought, but didn’t say aloud. “You said he was born in Ukraine.”
    “That’s what he told me.”
    “Did he have an accent?” Derek asked.
    “A very mild one. He said he came over here for college, and he was in his thirties, so he’d lost some of his accent.”
    “Did he say where he went to school?”
    “Berkeley.”
    “Impressive.”
    “He is pretty smart,” she said thoughtfully. “I mean, he was pretty smart. God.”
    Derek asked a few more basic questions, then moved to the crux of the matter. “You know he drugged you, Robin. Did you realize what was happening at the time?”
    The question caught her off guard. She reached for her coffee and took a few nervous sips. “No. I remember feeling really tired, and then I guess I just fell asleep. But why would he drug me? We’d already had sex. Great sex, by the way. Amazing. Inventive. I mean, really great.”
    “Yeah,” I said intently. “We heard you the first time.”
    “Sorry.” But her teasing smile faded as her eyes clouded over. “Why would he drug me after we had sex? What would that accomplish?”
    Derek sat forward. “It would allow him to search your place without interference.”
    “But why? I don’t have much money lying around. I have artwork.”
    “Is it worth a lot of money?”
    “Most of it’s my own, plus a number of local artists. We’re not talking Rembrandts. Who would want to steal anything from me?”
    “He must’ve thought you had something worth stealing,” I said.
    “Like what?”
    I had no idea. “Maybe he was just a charming cat burglar who worked from the inside out.”
    “So I was a crime of opportunity?”
    I winced. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “So then who killed him?” she demanded. “A rival burglar? It doesn’t make sense.”
    “No,” I agreed. “That’s definitely the sticking point. Why would anyone come into your place and kill this guy?”
    “It wasn’t random,” she mused.
    “No, of course not,” Derek said.
    She frowned. “I mean, if it was random, they probably would’ve killed me, too. And they didn’t steal anything. Not that I know of, anyway. I have my purse, so they didn’t rob me. So who were they and what were they after?”
    I pondered the question. “A jealous wife?”
    “Oh, God, no,” Robin cried. “That’s just too awful to consider. Maybe it was a business rival?”
    “Or an old boyfriend of