Swearing ripely, Derek dragged me out the door and pushed me back into the chair next to Robin. Then he shoved my head between my knees to keep me from passing out altogether. I knew he did it lovingly.
“Oh, no,” Robin cried as she grabbed hold of my hand. “What did you see in there?”
“Nothing, nothing,” I said when I could breathe again, then waved away her concern over my idiocy. “I’m okay.”
“Why in God’s name did you go inside?” Derek demanded as he paced back and forth in front of my chair.
I sucked in one big gulp of air and sat up. “I didn’t go inside,” I insisted weakly. “I had no intention of doing so. I looked inside. Big difference. I was just trying to get your attention.”
“Well, you got it,” he said, scowling.
“I’m sorry,” I said, humiliated by my weakness. “I was just worried the police would find you and arrest you or something.”
He gritted his teeth, then drew a heavy breath. “Thank you, love. That was very thoughtful. Unnecessary, but thoughtful.”
“I know. Sorry.”
He nodded and smoothed my hair back from my forehead. His jaw was clenched but he said nothing more. He didn’t have to. We’d both seen something awful inside Robin’s apartment.
SFPD Detective Inspector Janice Lee stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looked up, and shook her head. “Wainwright, we’ve simply got to stop meeting like this.”
“You’re telling me,” I said as I stood up to greet her. Janice Lee had been assigned to the first murder investigation I’d been involved in, when my old bookbinding mentor, Abraham Karastovsky, was killed. Then just last month, she’d investigated Layla Fontaine’s murder at the Bay Area Book Arts Center. I’d been working at BABA at the time of the killing and was able to give Lee some help with the suspects. So we were like old friends, only not so much.
“How are you, Inspector?” I asked, shaking her hand.
“Can’t complain. Nobody listens,” she said with a shrug. Her voice wasn’t as husky as usual, and I took that as a good sign that she’d managed to break her smoking habit. She’d gained a few more pounds, and with her exotic Asian-American features and long, shiny black hair, she looked prettier than ever. I could learn to hate her if I didn’t respect her so much.
“Hello, Inspector Lee,” Derek said cordially.
“Always a pleasure, Commander Stone,” she said, her tone a bit lighter. I suppose she had a soft spot for Derek—along with every other woman on the planet.
Four uniformed officers climbed the stairs in Inspector Lee’s wake. With eight people standing around, the normally spacious landing was starting to feel claustrophobic.
Derek passed Robin’s house key to Inspector Lee, then asked, “Will Inspector Jaglom be joining you?”
“Yeah, he should be here any minute. Why?”
Derek smiled. “Just curious. You two work well together.”
“Yes, we do,” she said, casting a wary glance his way. “Once we’ve seen what’s going on inside the apartment, I’ll have my uniforms canvass the neighborhood and watch things here until the ME and the lab folks arrive.”
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Yeah, thanks,” she said with just a touch of sarcasm. “What’s going on, Commander? Have you already been inside the premises?”
“Yes,” he said succinctly.
“Care to share your thoughts?”
“Of course.” He lowered his voice. “Body’s in the master bedroom. Blood has been tracked throughout, especially in the bedroom and attached bath. It’s a bloody mess, you’ll pardon the expression. Walls, sheets, hardwood floors. Victim was shot once in the head, once in the chest. Death appears to have been instantaneous. Ms. Tully was asleep in bed with the victim when he was shot.”
“Good to know,” she said, sliding a curious glance at Robin, who noticed her looking and shrank back into her chair.
Inspector Lee turned back to Derek. “Thanks for the info.”
I figured a rundown like that from a civilian would normally grate on her, but coming from Derek, Lee took it well. She was no fool, and Derek was no run-of-the-mill witness. As a former Royal Navy commander who’d gone on to work for Britain’s MI6 before starting his own private security company, he knew what he was doing, to say the least.
But with his brief recap of the crime scene, I could feel my eyes goggling as my brain painted some really gross mental images. There went my stomach again.
Derek noticed and swore under his breath.
Lee turned and looked at me with interest. “How you holding up, Wainwright?”
“Not well, thanks.” Seriously, with as many times as I’d landed in the middle of a murder scene, you’d think I’d be getting better at handling the sight of blood.
“Did you go inside the apartment with Commander Stone?”