Murder Under Cover

“Um, Robin—”

 

“Sorry, Brooklyn,” Robin cried, and grabbed me in a tight hug. “But I don’t want to be the excuse he uses to leave you.”

 

I looked at Derek. “Please stay.”

 

“Don’t beg,” Robin whispered. “If he hasn’t figured out you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, it’s his problem.”

 

I stared at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

 

Derek laughed. He seemed delighted with the entire conversation. “I’ll stay here tonight, if you don’t mind.”

 

Robin beamed. “Wonderful.”

 

“Sounds good to me.” Still slightly baffled by what had just transpired, I held out the bag. “Cookie, anyone?”

 

Robin grabbed hold of both our arms and pulled us closer, then looked back and forth from Derek to me. “I’m a little nutso right now, so thank you for tolerating me. I owe you both so much for coming to my rescue today. I’m not sure I can ever repay you, but I love you for it. Thank you.”

 

“It’s what friends do,” Derek said.

 

“Well put,” she said, and kissed him smack-dab on the lips. Then she turned and did the same to me.

 

I laughed and gave her a tight hug. “You really are crazy—you know that? But I love you, too.”

 

She looked at Derek. “So it’s settled.”

 

“It’s settled,” he said with a nod.

 

“Guess we’re having a sleepover,” I said, still not sure what they’d settled, but glad about it.

 

“So what’s for dinner?” she asked, grabbing the bag of cookies.

 

“I’ve recently developed quite a taste for pad thai noodles,” Derek offered.

 

“My favorite.” Robin clapped her hands, then turned to me. “Do we have wine?”

 

“Oh, hell, yes.” I quickly pulled a bottle out of the wine rack and grabbed the corkscrew. It was better than tea any day of the week.

 

 

 

 

 

Later that evening, as we watched reruns of Nash Bridges and nibbled on red velvet cupcakes, Derek’s cell phone rang. I paused the show, because Derek had never seen it, and despite his best intentions, he was starting to get into it.

 

He mostly listened on his end, and the call was over in less than two minutes. Turning to Robin, he said, “That was Inspector Lee. They did find traces of Rohypnol in your system.”

 

“I knew it,” I said. “That bastard.” I whipped around and grabbed Robin’s hand. “Sorry. But really, what a jerk.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so.” She seemed a little dazed by the reality of what had been done to her.

 

“The inspector will call you tomorrow morning to set up a time to come by so she can discuss things in detail with you.”

 

“Why did she call you?” Robin wondered aloud. “She could’ve called me and cut out the middleman.”

 

“She probably thinks you took a Valium and went to bed,” I said.

 

She sank back into the couch. “Oh, what a good idea.”

 

I looked at Derek. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, but I’ll arrange to be here when she comes.”

 

“Thank you, Derek,” Robin said. “Again.”

 

He waved away her thanks. “I’m just being meddlesome. I want to hear what the police are up to.”

 

I chuckled. “Me, too.”

 

“No,” Robin said. “You’re being heroic and protective, and I appreciate it.”

 

I nudged her with my elbow. “You don’t have to keep saying thank-you. You would do the same for us.”

 

“I know, but . . . it’s weird.” She laid her head back on the couch.

 

“I know, sweetie.”

 

A noise like hailstones pitter-pattered outside in the hall, and we all looked at one another. “What the hell is that?”

 

I jumped up and ran to the front door.

 

Three Asian children were running up and down the wide, well-lit outer hallway. As they raced toward my door, the lead child saw me and skidded to a stop, causing the other two to collide into each other. The last child tumbled to the floor, laughing.

 

“Children!” a dark-haired woman cried from the end of the hall. She had to be their mother.

 

They all stood at attention. The tallest child, a little boy, stared at me with wide eyes while the two girls looked at the floor. I estimated the boy was six or seven and his siblings a year or two younger.

 

“You’re disturbing the peace of our neighbors,” the mom said. “What did I tell you about making noise?”

 

I waved at the woman standing outside her door. “Hello. I’m Brooklyn. You must be our new neighbors.”

 

“Yes. I am very sorry for the children’s behavior.” She approached my door slowly as she explained, “They have been cooped up all day, and I let them out to greet their father, who should be here any minute.” She gazed severely at her children. “But that is no excuse for such rambunctious conduct.”

 

“Sorry, Mama,” they said in unison.

 

“Perhaps you should apologize to our new neighbor, so she won’t think you are all little hooligans.”