“It would make more sense if he thought Robin had it,” I conceded. “Then he drugged her and searched for it.”
“It would make more sense,” he restated, probably for my benefit.
I took a quick bite of crunchy romaine, then shook my head. “But that would mean that Robin had the flash drive. And why in the world would she have a flash drive with Ukrainian government secrets on it?”
He stared at me steadily as he chewed.
“What?” Then it hit me and I choked on a laugh. “You can’t be serious. You think Robin is some kind of… what? A secret agent? A spy? You’re way offtrack.”
“All right,” he said with a casualness I didn’t trust for a second. “You tell me. Why did Robin have something so critical to the Ukrainian government that they would send one of their top operatives to steal it?”
“Who says she had it?”
“We’re just tossing around scenarios right now. Examining things from all angles. Every possibility is on the table until it’s eliminated.”
“Then let’s eliminate this one first.”
“Yes, let’s,” he said mildly. “Tell me how Robin met Alex.”
“Okay, she walked into a take-out restaurant. Alex was already in line and they struck up a conversation. There was no preset meeting, no weird intrigue, no brush pass.” I used air quotes to indicate my contempt for the whole idea that Robin could be involved in some idiotic spy game.
“All right,” he said. “Then what?”
I started to go on, then stopped. I searched my memory banks and played back my original conversation with Robin. Something was off about my starting point. And it bugged the heck out of me to admit it. “I was wrong. Robin was in line at the restaurant when Alex came in after her.”
He reached for my hand in a show of sympathy. “Go on, love.”
“While they were waiting for their food, they struck up a conversation.”
“Did Robin tell you who spoke first?”
I thought back to the night we talked about her encounter with Alex. “She didn’t say. She just said that they were having a fascinating conversation and when their orders were called, Alex said he didn’t want to be like ships passing in the night and never see her again, so they got a table and ate together.”
“Do you remember Robin telling you anything about him that I haven’t heard yet? Anything at all?”
All right, Derek was getting to me. I rubbed my cold hands together because I was starting to worry now. Still, there was no chance in hell that Robin was a spy. “We should probably get her on the phone for more details, but I do remember her saying that he was an engineer born in the Ukraine. He came over here to go to Berkeley and never left. He was cute and funny and sexy, blah, blah, blah.”
“Blah, blah, blah?” he said.
I chewed on my lip. “I shouldn’t belittle her feelings for him. She was so happy. She blushed when she talked about him. Robin never blushes. And she called him Mr. Wonderful.”
“She cared for him,” he mused. “I saw that, as well.”
“That’s right. You were here when she talked about how he liked museums and ball games and all that stuff.”
“Yes, and you called him a metrosexual.”
“Exactly.”
“I still have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“I’m not sure, either,” I said, laughing. My smile faded slowly. “She really seemed to like this guy Alex, and I was worried, somewhat selfishly, I guess. Because I know she’s been in love with Austin forever, and I’ve always wanted them to get together. Of course, now it seems they have, so we’ll see what happens.”
“Did you share your concerns with her at the time?”
“Yes. She blamed Austin for not making a move in her direction. Said she wasn’t going to sit by the phone waiting for his call.”
“No, she doesn’t seem the sort who would sit around waiting for a man.”
“She’s definitely not.” I sipped my cocktail. “And you were here when she told us about Alex manipulating her into inviting him back to her place.”
His lip curled in derision. “Yes, I remember that part. So now where are we?” He consulted his notepad. “Let’s go on. Tell me again what the name of the restaurant was?”
“Kasa. It’s an Indian restaurant. There’re a few of them around the city. We laughed about that, because she’d just returned from India. But she still had a taste for Indian food.”
“Just a moment.” He dropped the pen on the notepad, glanced around the room as though he’d lost something, then turned to look at me. “She’d just returned from India?”
“Yes, she took a tour group there. I told you.”
“No, you didn’t. You left out that rather interesting detail.” His forehead was creased in thought. “How recently did she return from her trip?”
I gave him an odd look. “Are you sure I didn’t tell you this already?”
“No, you absolutely did not.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been distracted.”
“Yes, well.” He scribbled something on his notepad. “Plenty of distractions lately.”
“I’ll say.” Most of the distractions had been caused by Derek and his sudden constant presence in my life. Not that I was complaining. I gathered up our empty plates and took them into the kitchen. Derek beat me to the sink and took over, washing the dishes as we talked. I got the funniest little twinge around my heart as I watched him work in my kitchen. Talk about distractions.
“Anyway,” I continued after forcing my gaze away from his wet, soapy arms, “Robin was on her way home from the airport when she stopped at Kasa to get dinner to go.”
He ran hot water over each dish and utensil and placed them in the drainer. “And she was in India for what? Two, three weeks?”
“Three weeks.”
“Any idea where she went?”
“I know she landed in New Delhi and the trip centered around that area of the country. She took them to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I think they rode elephants in Jaipur and camels somewhere else. You know, the usual. Then the group flew home and she flew to Varanasi to see her mother.”
“Her mother lives in Varanasi?” He tilted his head to look at me. “Why didn’t I know this?”
Frowning, I considered the question. “I’m really not sure. Anyway, she stayed with her mom for three days, then flew home.”
“And then she flew home,” he mused. “I assume she gathered her baggage, obtained her car from long-term parking, and headed for home. Unless someone picked her up. Did you?”
“No,” I interjected. “She drove her neighbor Sharon’s car to the airport and left her Porsche at home in the garage.”
“Why didn’t she just call a cab?”
I shrugged. “She did, but it didn’t show up and it was getting late, so Sharon gave her the keys to one of their cars. They have, like, four old cars.”
“Why didn’t Sharon just drive her?”
I smiled at his logical questions. Sometimes circumstances just weren’t logical. “Sharon was sick, and Robin didn’t mind paying the parking lot fee. It’s a tax writeoff for her.”
“Okay,” he muttered. “Okay. So she’s driving home. It was a long flight. She was hungry, so she stopped to pick up takeaway at this Indian restaurant.”
“That’s exactly how she described it.”
He nodded as he dried his hands on the dish towel. “So she was waiting for her food when a good-looking fellow walked in and struck up a conversation with her.”
I leaned back against the counter. “You’re making it sound like he was following her.”
“Am I?”
“You are. And that answering-a-question-with-a-question thing that you do? It drives me a little cuckoo.”
“Does it?”
I made a face and he grinned. “Sorry, love.”
I didn’t believe him for a second. “Where were we? Oh, yeah, that creep had to have been following
her. That’s where you’re going, right?”
“Yes, that would be my guess.”
“Your guesses are usually accurate,” I said with grudging admiration.
“Thank you, love.” He held my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. “I know this is tough for you. Do you want to stop?”
“No, I’ll be better once we figure this out,” I said, and began to pace the short length of the kitchen. “So he asked her out to dinner, where he manipulated her into inviting him to her home. And then he… what? Drugged her in order to search her house for a tiny flash drive?”
“Go on.”
“What I can’t understand is, why do these people think Robin has the flash drive?”
“Because someone alerted them to the fact that she was bringing it back from India.”
“But who? And why? And how?” I looked at him with suspicion. “I don’t believe for a minute that Robin had anything to do with this, but I’m willing to admit that Alex might’ve been under the illusion that Robin brought the flash drive back from India.”
Derek smiled his approval. “All right, let’s continue on that track.”
“Okay, but I had another thought. There must’ve been a lot of planes coming in around the same time as Robin’s.”
“Yes?”
“So maybe someone on Robin’s plane or in the terminal dropped the flash drive into her carry-on bag, then followed her out and signaled someone like Alex to keep following.”
“It’s a possibility.”
“A lame one, right?”
He held up both hands. “I didn’t say that.”
“I appreciate it.” I stared at the floor as I started pacing again, this time moving out to the living room, where there was more room to roam. “Here’s another possibility. Maybe Alex was told to look for a certain woman and he mistook Robin for that person.”
“Mistaken identity?” He moved his head back and forth as if weighing the possibilities. “It could happen.”
I sighed. “It’s far-fetched, I know.”
“Darling.” He stepped into my path and put his hands on my shoulders. “How much do you know about Robin’s tour guide business?”
Confused, I looked at him, then did a double take. “No, no, no. Don’t go there.”
“It’s a simple question.”
I jerked back from him. “You honestly believe her tour guide company is a cover for espionage activities?”
“Is it?” he asked mildly.
“Stop that.” I jabbed my finger at his chest. “Stop doing that question thing and stop thinking Robin is a spy.” I was seriously cranky now.
He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back. He caught me off guard or I would’ve sidled away from him.
“I have no doubt that Robin is completely innocent,” he said, and kissed the top of my head.
I clutched his waist as I glared at him. “You’re damn straight she is.”
“Of course she is.” He met my gaze. “Another theory you haven’t mentioned is that Robin did have the flash drive and simply didn’t know it. Perhaps someone slipped it into her luggage, as you suggested. Or she might’ve brought it back from India as part of something completely innocuous. A souvenir or a trinket. She’s obviously American, and there might’ve been people scoping the terminals, looking for someone like her. A random choice. Someone friendly, innocent, trusting. Who better to use as a mule to smuggle something into the country? Once she was safely inside the U.S., they sent someone to collect it.”
“I like the random theory, but I can tell you don’t believe it.”
“Not really, but it’s important to consider every possibility.”
“Okay, we’ve considered it and discarded it. So you actually think Robin knowingly carried this thing all the way from India to the U.S.”
“Not knowingly, perhaps. She might’ve been unaware of it. It was hidden in something, perhaps. But I definitely believe she brought it back with her.”
“In the book,” I muttered. My spine began to tingle, and it wasn’t from Derek’s enthralling touch. I inched away from him so I could think more carefully. “Derek, Robin brought back the book.”
“The book?” he repeated slowly. “What book? From India? Have I seen it?”
I felt my cheeks getting warm at the thought of showing Derek the Kama Sutra. “You haven’t seen it yet. It’s a rare book a friend of Robin’s mother sent. They want me to restore it.”
“May I see it?”
“Of course.” I dashed down the hall to the closet. Derek followed me and watched as I unlocked the panel that revealed the false floor. “This is the book I was worried about when the big ugly guy broke into my place.”
“Why were you worried about it?”
“You’ll understand when you see it.” I lifted the shopping bag out of its hiding place and handed it to Derek, then closed and locked the panel.
“You’ve aroused my curiosity.”
“Let’s go to my workroom,” I said, leading the way. “The light’s better in there.”
Once we were seated at the worktable, I pulled the old leather satchel from the shopping bag and unbuckled it, then slipped the book out.
“That’s an interesting old saddlebag,” he said.
“It’s cool, isn’t it? But wait till you see this.” I unwrapped the white cotton cloth and pushed the book toward Derek.
“Well, that is certainly no souvenir,” he said. His tone was light, but his jaw flexed with tension.
“It’s in decent condition, so go ahead and look through it. You won’t do any damage.”
He stared at the red leather cover and inspected the jewels. “Magnificent.”
“It really is.”
He turned it so that the spine faced him. “What is… Ah, the Kama Sutra. Another detail you neglected to share.”
“Did I?” I smiled. “There goes my brain again.”
With a half grin, he said, “Is that why you didn’t show it to me?”
“Of course not.”
It was clear by his sardonic expression that he didn’t believe me. “Has anyone else seen it?”
“Just Ian.”
“You showed Ian the Kama Sutra and not me?” He laughed. “What am I to think of that?”
“Oh, no. I just knew he would appreciate it-you know, intellectually. Because it’s a book. Not because…” Oh, God, was my face red?
“I do love seeing you flustered,” he said, his smile broadening.
I frowned. “Then you must be in heaven right now.”
He bent over, kissed me, then murmured, “Close to it.” Then he took hold of the book. “Well, let’s have a look.”
“Yes, good idea.”
After a moment of studying the cover, he said, “I’m going to assume these jewels are the real thing.”
“That’s my understanding.” I pointed out the obvious gems. “Sapphires, rubies, emeralds. I think these small clear gems are diamonds, but I’ll have to verify that.”
“And Robin’s mother sent this to you?”
“Yes. It belongs to her mother’s friend.” I gave him an abbreviated history of Shiva Quinn and her friend Rajiv Mizra. “Anyway, Shiva is a bit of a collector and Rajiv is, too. Abraham once recommended me to Shiva, so it was nice of Shiva to pass my name on to Rajiv.”
“It certainly was. Does Rajiv plan to sell it?”
“He’s not sure. He wants to know how much it’s worth before he decides.”
“So you’re to estimate its cost on the open market? Is that why you showed it to Ian?”
I nodded. “Yes, and because I knew he’d go ape over it.”
“I’m sure he did.” He continued to study the book, turning it this way and that. “What does the restoration entail?”
“Basically, I’ll separate the leather from the boards, take it apart, reinforce the ties and the boards and the spine, repair some light tears, clean it up, and put it back together, stronger than ever. I probably won’t rem
ove the gems. It would be too difficult and I would hate to lose one. I’ll use an air gun to get rid of the dust and I’ll wipe away as much grime as I can.”
He rubbed his fingers over several of the colorful gems embedded in the peacock’s feathers on the front cover. “Delicate work.”
“Yes. There are several torn pages, and fixing them will be the most challenging part.” And despite the situation and my fears for Robin’s safety and the ludicrous idea that she might be a spy, I was dying to get my hands on the book again. Just staring at it made me want to reach for my knives and get busy. So I curled my hands into fists and dropped them in my lap. “For the most part, it’s in excellent condition. Very strong. It should repair easily. I’m dying to get started.”
“Why haven’t you started yet?”
I laughed. “Distractions, remember?”
He picked up the book and stared down the edge of the front cover, then pressed it carefully. “It’s padded.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll remove it?”
“Right. I’ve got to check the batting, strengthen the spine, and reglue the endpapers.”
“Can you do it tomorrow?”
I regarded him warily. “You think there’s a miniature flash drive hiding in there?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
With a nod, I said, “I’ll start on it tomorrow morning.”
“Good. The sooner you do that, the sooner we might have some answers to our questions. And it just might save Robin’s life.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
He studied the book for another few minutes. Opened the pages, ran his hands over the calligraphy, examined the paintings and brushstrokes, inspected the positions. “It’s quite extraordinary.”
“Yes.” I sounded breathless. I’d been just as fascinated watching him as he was with exploring the book.
“And it’s written in French,” he murmured. “That’s unexpected, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
He looked up at me. “Have you studied the Kama Sutra?”
“Only a bit,” I said, as I ran my fingers over the corded spine. “I suppose everyone has a vague knowledge of it. You know, positions and such. But wasn’t it written as a social primer of sorts? Marital etiquette or something like that?”
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