Murder Under Cover

I knew Derek wasn’t in favor of telling the police. He’d obtained the intelligence on the flash drive from his sources at Interpol and knew there were people at the highest levels of the U.S. government who were aware of the situation and would step in if and when they felt the need to do so.

 

I didn’t share with him that confidence that our government officials would play fairly. Besides, I had a personal relationship with Lee and Jaglom. I didn’t want them coming out of this with egg on their faces because their higher-ups didn’t feel a need to keep them in the loop.

 

“At least we saw who killed the guy,” I said to Inspector Lee in my defense, lame as it was.

 

Lee and I stood on the small balcony outside Alex Pavlenko’s apartment. She and Jaglom had been first on the scene, beating the uniformed guys and the medical examiner. Now Jaglom and Derek were talking inside while we all waited for the medical examiner and the crime scene specialists to show up. Two uniformed officers were already knocking on neighbors’ doors, looking for witnesses.

 

Lee smirked. “So you’re saying you saw Galina Shirkova pull the trigger?”

 

So that was her last name, I thought, then sighed. “No, I didn’t exactly see her do it.”

 

“You hear a gunshot?”

 

“Okay, no. But—”

 

“All you really saw was Shirkova walking down the sidewalk and driving away in a car.”

 

“Maybe so, but she was in there,” I said, pointing at Alex’s door. “Then she left, drove away. Two minutes later, we get up here and, oh, look, there’s a dead body.”

 

“Still not good enough.”

 

“Oh, come on,” I retorted. “She’s a menace who never should’ve been let out of jail. I don’t know why you’re hedging about her. If I’d done the same thing, you’d already have your handcuffs out.”

 

She pulled them off her belt and twirled them around her finger. “That’s because you would look so good in these.”

 

I regarded her askance. “Okay, that’s weird.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, chuckling as she slipped the handcuffs back in place.

 

It had been a little tricky at first, explaining to the police what we were doing at Alex’s apartment. I’d attempted an elaborate explanation with justifications and details, but Lee interrupted rudely, shutting me down, telling me I was the worst damn liar on God’s green earth. That was when Derek had stepped in to offer a semblance of the truth, saying we were merely curious to see where Alex lived, but when we saw Galina leaving, we felt duty-bound to check things out.

 

Now, desperate to change the subject away from murder, I asked, “How’s your mom doing?”

 

“Hey, she’s doing okay. Thanks for asking.” Lee leaned her elbows on the porch rail. “No sign of cancer after the surgery and the tests, so she’ll be coming home from the hospital tomorrow.”

 

“That’s great news. Does she have someone staying with her, helping her get around?”

 

She made a face. “Oh, hell, no. She’s too damned independent for that. But she’s got good friends and neighbors, so I’ve secretly organized them all to take turns checking on her, offering to pick stuff up at the grocery, that sort of thing.”

 

“You’re a good daughter.”

 

“What’re you gonna do?” She lifted both hands in surrender. “I can’t be there around the clock, so this is the next-best way to make sure she’s being looked after.”

 

We kibitzed for twenty more minutes until the medical examiner arrived. Then Derek and I took advantage of the distraction and left the scene.

 

In the car, Derek gave me some bad news. “Inspector Jaglom believes the victim was shot sometime yesterday.”

 

“What?” I cried. “But Galina was just there. She had to have shot him during those few minutes before we got there.”

 

“I’m sorry, darling. Nathan will call with the medical examiner’s findings, but he’s fairly certain, based on rigor mortis, that the man was shot at least twenty-four hours ago.”

 

I punched the seat cushion. “So they won’t even question Galina.”

 

“They’ll certainly question her if they can find her.”

 

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Where is she?”

 

It was after five o’clock, too late to get back to Robin’s place before the cleaning service clocked out for the day. I called Tom, the lead guy, on my cell and he assured me they’d be back to finish the job tomorrow morning, bright and early. For someone who cleaned up the dirtiest consequences of violent death, he was remarkably affable.

 

Too tired to cook, we parked the car in the garage and walked to Hama, my favorite hole-in-the-wall sushi joint two blocks away. Laughing and arguing about what to share, we finally settled on a mixed platter of sushi, sashimi, and tempura. We ate the whole thing, finished off a small bottle of sake, and were in bed and asleep by ten o’clock that night.