The water began to boil and I ran back to the kitchen, where I poured hot water into the teapot with the sage tea bags. “I think the sage compress worked really well with the ice to bring down the swelling. You really don’t look as bad as I thought you would.”
“That’s a bald-faced lie,” Robin said. “I look like I was run over by a truck.”
“A very small truck, maybe. But you’re less puffy, and it looks like you can actually open your eye now.”
“It still hurts a lot.”
I walked over, handed her another bag filled with ice, and sat on the couch. “I’m sure it does, but I’m so proud of you for kicking that bitch’s ass.”
She chuckled. “Your mother would have a cow if she heard you talking like that.”
I shook my head. “If Mom had been there, she’d have helped us kick her ass. Of course, afterward, she would have helped the woman cleanse her aura and dust off her dosha, then suggested ways to reach enlightenment. . . .”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Robin said.
“Sorry.” But I was glad to see Robin’s sense of humor returning.
“Hell.” Robin splayed her hands on the cushions. “I really know how to pick them, don’t I?”
I patted her knee in sympathy. “Don’t go there again. Remember? None of this was your fault.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not bad enough that Alex had enemies who wanted him dead. Now I have to find out he had a girlfriend?” She shifted on the couch to get comfortable. Pookie shifted with her. “It’s a little humiliating to realize how thoroughly he used me.”
All true, but this probably wasn’t the time to say so. “We don’t know if Galina was his girlfriend.”
She stretched her shoulders bit by bit and I could tell she still ached all over. “I hope not. I hate knowing Alex might’ve been involved with someone as psychotic as her.”
“I hope not, too,” I said. “But if it’s true and he was cheating on her with you, that’s one more reason to bring him back from the dead, just to smack him upside the head a few dozen times.”
She sat up abruptly. Pookie jumped off the couch as the bag of ice slid down her cheek. “Oh, my God, Brooklyn. What if she was his sister?”
I reached over and grabbed the bag. “Put your head back.” I smoothed her hair away from her face, then repositioned the bag and rubbed her arms until the tension loosened in her shoulders. “Look,” I said, “we’ll just have to wait and find out what the police say about her.”
“All right,” she muttered. “Where’s Pookie?”
At the sound of her name, the cat jumped up on the couch and kneaded her claws in the thick material. Robin pulled the cat close and Pookie went boneless in her arms, then curled up on her lap and purred loudly. I tried to stifle my hurt feelings, but the fact was, she rarely did that for me. Pookie, I mean. She didn’t pay much attention to me at all.
I sighed. “Until we have more information, you should just close your eyes and try to relax. Don’t think about Galina anymore.”
“Okay.”
I was glad she couldn’t see me cringing at the idea that Galina might’ve been Alex’s sister. I really didn’t want to feel sorry for that vicious woman. But I had to admit that if someone had killed my brother, I could picture myself doing exactly what Galina had done, namely, tracking down the person I thought was responsible and smashing her face in.
After munching her bagel and cream cheese, Robin took a nap with Pookie, and Derek went off to work. I decided to take an hour or two and drive over to the Covington Library to show the Kama Sutra to Ian McCullough. As president and head curator of the highly respected Covington, Ian would be able to help me appraise the book and might even want to buy it for the library, if Shiva’s friend Rajiv were planning to sell it.
Ian was also in a position to throw bookbinding work my way, so it was always a good idea to keep in touch. Besides, I’d known him forever. He was my brother Austin’s college roommate as well as my ex-fiancé. That hadn’t worked out, obviously, but we were still great friends.
I bypassed the ubiquitous morning traffic hassles by skirting the Civic Center and zigzagging my way through SoMa over to Divisadero. From there, it was straight on up to Pacific Heights. On the way, I called Ian’s secretary on my cell to make sure he was in and available. Should’ve thought of that first, but I was a little distracted lately. Luckily, he had no meetings and planned to be in the office all day.
My luck held out as I snagged a parking space on the street. I took in the graceful Italianate building with its famously lush gardens and walked up the wide central marble stairway. The stately iron doors were open, and I entered the hushed foyer, then walked into the grand hall, a massive room three stories high that held many of the most sacred and rarest of all the books of the world.
I’d been coming to the Covington since my early teens and had never grown tired of it. I loved this place. It defined me.