Murder Under Cover

She pulled her hand away. “Well, aren’t you the queen of compassion?”

 

 

“No,” I countered, “I’m the queen of big messes dumped in my lap by other people.”

 

“Now, just a minute,” Robin said, her old fire rearing its head.

 

“No, you wait a minute,” I snapped. “I love you, but there’s a huge crap storm raining down on me, and I need your help to make it go away.”

 

Robin frowned, but she didn’t argue.

 

“Hell, Brooklyn,” Austin began.

 

I held up my hand to stop him. “I don’t need this from you, Austin.”

 

“Leave him out of this,” Robin said.

 

“Jeez Louise, will you two give me a break?” I jumped up from my chair and paced back and forth in front of her. “Austin, you can just butt out.”

 

He looked astonished but said nothing, so I kept going. “All of a sudden you’re Robin’s white knight? Where was this devotion a month ago?”

 

“Hold on there,” he argued, while Robin looked at him thoughtfully.

 

“No,” I said, then reconsidered. “Sorry. I apologize. That has nothing to do with why we came here. We’re here because we need to figure out what’s going on if we ever want it to stop.”

 

He didn’t look happy, but at least he was quiet, so I turned to my friend. “Now, please, for God’s sake, Robin, all we want to know is, where did you park your damn car the night you stopped at Kasa?”

 

She was taken aback at that. Frowning, she said, “That’s all?”

 

I didn’t meet her gaze. “There might be another question or two, but let’s start with that one.”

 

She stared out at the hills, thinking, then looked back at me. “I parked on the street, directly in front of the restaurant. On Eighteenth. What does that have to do with anything?”

 

“Could you see the car while you were inside Kasa dining with Alex?”

 

“Yes.” She glared at me. “You’ve been to Kasa. The whole front wall is windows. So, yeah, I could see my car the whole time. Why?”

 

Derek took over seamlessly. “We believe the people who killed Alex are looking for something that was planted in the book your mother gave you to bring to Brooklyn.”

 

“The Kama Sutra?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She looked from Derek to me. “Is that the flash drive you were talking about?”

 

“Yes,” Derek said. “It’s not a regular flash drive, but a very tiny one, the latest technology. And it’s said to have highly sensitive information on it.”

 

She tipped her head to one side and gave him a skeptical smile. “Sounds like a spy novel.”

 

“Doesn’t it?” Derek said lightly. “I assume you left the book in your car when you stopped at Kasa.”

 

“I did.”

 

“And it’s obvious that no one broke into your car or tampered with it, because you would’ve seen them.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Okay. Very good.” Derek changed the subject. “Now, when you were visiting your mother in Varanasi, did you meet the friend who owns the book?”

 

“Rajiv?” She sat back in her chair and folded her hands. “He wasn’t there on this trip, but I’ve met him a few times before. My mother said he’d gone to New Delhi to visit one of his daughters.”

 

“Can you tell me about him?” Derek asked.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Let’s start with his name.”

 

“Rajiv Mizra. Shiva’s known him for years.” Her lips thinned stubbornly. “He’s a perfectly nice, normal guy. Not a spy, okay?”

 

Derek waved his hand nonchalantly. “Of course not.”

 

But a subtle look passed between him and Gabriel, who’d been sitting on the periphery, gazing at the view, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. After a moment, though, Gabriel pulled out his phone and checked the screen, then texted something. Was he checking out Rajiv Mizra as we spoke?

 

“Rajiv is Indian?” Derek asked.

 

Robin nodded. “Yes. I think he said he was from Mumbai originally. I guess it was Bombay back then.”

 

“Tell me about him,” Derek said, then spelled out what he meant. “Is he young? Old? Conservative? Religious? Is he a wealthy man? Smart? What were your impressions of him?”

 

Robin seemed to relax a little. “He’s middle-aged, I guess. Probably around fifty, like Shiva. He’s smart, politically involved. I have a feeling he’s been in love with her for years.”

 

“And when you say ‘politically involved,’ do you mean he’s part of the government?”

 

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s just a big talker, likes to rant about the politicians and government waste, like we all do, I guess. He loves movies and drags Shiva off to the cinema all the time. She acts like it’s such a chore, but I think she enjoys it, too. He’s not married but I guess he has a few children.”

 

“Is his wife dead?”

 

“I have no idea, but I’ve never heard Shiva talk about his having a wife.”

 

Derek pondered that for a moment. “Does he have money? Is he attractive?”