It was two o’clock before inspectors Lee and Jaglom finally came by. Suzie had dropped off Pookie and her paraphernalia a while earlier, and the cat had already glommed onto Robin. When she lay down on the couch to take a nap, Pookie curled up next to her.
I was glad to see Robin drop off to sleep so easily despite being frightened out of her mind. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and I would’ve offered to get up and keep her company, but once I fall asleep, I tend to sleep soundly. My dad always claimed I slept like a dead tree, which sounds appalling, but Dad is an outdoor kind of guy. To him, a dead tree is a thing of beauty. That’s the story he fed me, anyway.
As he’d promised, Derek returned home a few minutes after the cops arrived and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Despite my best intentions, I’d been anxious to have him be present while the police were here. I simply wasn’t at the top of my game this time around, probably because it was Robin who was the chief suspect. The situation shook me, and I found myself depending on Derek to run interference. He didn’t seem to mind at all, but my dependence on him was starting to annoy me. Damsels in distress could get boring really fast.
I offered the inspectors coffee and they both accepted, so everyone hung out around the kitchen bar while the coffee brewed.
“Derek thought you might be handing the case over to the Department of Homeland Security,” I said.
“I may have spoken too soon,” Lee admitted. “Our guy might not have been here illegally, like the feds first thought. According to Ms. Tully here, he attended school at Berkeley, so he might’ve been in the U.S. ever since. We’re still checking records. Depending on his status, we may keep the case or we may have to pass it along.”
“Does that happen a lot, where you trade off cases with the DHS?”
“Once in a while.” She leaned a hip against the edge of the bar. “DHS covers a lot of ground. Lately, we’ve mostly been trading off immigration cases with ICE.”
I nodded knowingly as I pulled five mugs from the cupboard. I watched Law & Order, so I knew that ICE was Immigration and Customs Enforcement. “Coffee’s ready.”
“Great,” Inspector Lee said. “Should help me stay awake a while longer.”
As I poured the coffee, Robin cleared her throat self-consciously. “So, Derek says they did find drugs in my system.”
Lee turned to her. “Yes.”
“So I’m . . . cleared? You’re not going to arrest me?”
Inspector Lee looked at her for a long second or three. “That remains to be seen.”
Robin blinked. “Do you need more information? Is there anything—”
“Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Derek stepped into the kitchen and placed his arm casually around my shoulder. I knew why. He was getting ready to hold me back in case I tried to lunge over the bar and claw Inspector Lee’s eyes out. There was no way in hell she was arresting Robin.
“Inspector, please explain,” Derek said.
Lee shot Derek a defensive glare. “Just because she was on drugs doesn’t mean she didn’t kill the guy.”
“And ransack her own apartment while she was at it?” he said. “Highly improbable.”
Robin slid down onto the nearest barstool, gulping convulsively.
“This is crazy.” I was livid. What the hell was wrong with Inspector Lee?
Derek shot me a warning glance.
“I’m sorry, but it is,” I said.
Derek turned to Jaglom. “Nathan?”
“Come on, Jan,” Jaglom cajoled his partner. “These are good people. Dial it down.”
After a few tense seconds of a staring match between the two, Inspector Lee muttered, “Hell, I need a cigarette.” We all watched as she walked across the living room to the wall of windows, where she stared out at my narrow view of the bay.
Jaglom leaned in. “She’s been wearing the patch lately to help her quit smoking, so sometimes she goes a little . . .” He pointed to his head and circled his finger as if to say she was going nuts.
If this had been about only me, I might’ve been more sympathetic to her problems. After all, I liked Janice Lee. I really did. She was a good cop. Usually. But right now, she was screwing with Robin’s emotions, and I was ready to beat her with a stick.
I banked my anger, poured coffee into the mugs, and passed them out. Then I walked over to Inspector Lee and handed a mug to her.
She took it and sipped silently. After a moment, she gritted her teeth and, still staring out the window, said, “Sorry. My mom’s in the hospital, I’ve got an idiot for a brother, and all I want is a cigarette.”
I nodded, acknowledging the apology. “Sorry about your mom.”
“They cut a few feet out of her colon yesterday and they’re still running tests. There’s an outside chance she’ll be okay.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” She shook her head in confusion or disbelief; I couldn’t tell which. “They’re hoping it’s diverticulitis. We’re afraid it’s cancer. They’re the experts, so maybe it’ll turn out fine. But can I tell you the worst part of all this? It’s seeing my mom in that hospital bed, looking so weak and sick. I mean, my mom is a tigress. I hate seeing her like that. It’s rough, you know?”