Murder Under Cover by Kate Carlisle

threatened by a cold-blooded killer—preparing myself to say good-bye to him. Imagine my shock when he’d handed me his new business card showing a tony Nob Hill address as his new office location.
    I’d been wearing this same silly grin ever since.
    We turned on Twenty-fourth Street, the treelined heart of the Noe Valley community, and walked half a block down to the Noe Valley Bakery. As we entered, the intoxicating aroma of warm, sugary treats was the first thing that caught me. I stopped and stared in awe at the massive displays of fluffy cupcakes, airy croissants, and every type of gooey, yummy pastry known to man.
    It wasn’t easy, but I finally settled on a sensible blueberry muffin and a large coffee, while Derek ordered coffee and took a pass on the sweets. Since most of the morning crowd was gone, we were able to grab an empty table and sit for a few minutes.
    After taking some sips of coffee and a bite of my muffin, I finally posed the question I’d been waiting all morning to ask. “Did you find anything important inside Robin’s place?”
    He eyed me for a moment, then said, “I assume you’re referring to something other than the dead man.”
    “You can start with him if you want. What did he look like? What was in his pockets? Tell me everything.”
    He glanced at me askance. “You saw him.”
    “I know, but I’ve been working really hard to block out the vivid image, and now I’m no longer sure of what I saw. I just remember a bullet hole and a lot of blood.” I shivered involuntarily.
    “There was plenty of that. I’m afraid Robin managed to spread it throughout the house. Her bloody footsteps were everywhere.”
    I took a big gulp of coffee to soothe my suddenly dry throat. “Okay, we can step away from the subject of blood and dead bodies. I won’t be happy if my appetite is so ruined that I can’t eat this muffin, so let’s keep it simple. Did he have a gun? Was there any information in his wallet? Please don’t tell me he had photos of a wife and six children. Did you find any traces of whoever killed him? Did you see anything else that was weird?”
    His smile was appraising. “Have you given any thought to going into law enforcement? You excel at interrogation.”
    “I’ve had some experience in that area, on the wrong end, unfortunately.” I touched his arm. “I’m just curious, you know? And worried. Because it’s Robin.”
    “I know, darling.”
    “I guess I just want to know whether you saw anything that would cause Inspector Lee to arrest her.”
    “Frankly, no.” But a frown line marred his forehead. “I can’t imagine they would think she ransacked her own apartment.”
    “Ransacked? What do you mean?”
    “You didn’t notice?”
    “No. I must’ve been distracted by the body. You’re telling me that someone searched her place?”
    “It was a shambles, so if they were searching for something, they didn’t do a neat job of it. Things were upturned and pulled off shelves, sofa cushions thrown every which way. Nothing truly damaged, just tossed about.”
    “Oh, hell, that stinks.” Poor Robin, as if she didn’t have enough to deal with.
    “Yes, it does. However, what struck me as even more odd was that the victim had absolutely no identification on him. No papers, no passport, no driver’s license, credit cards, cash. Nothing.”
    “No wallet?”
    “No. I assume whoever killed him must’ve taken it.”
    “They must’ve,” I said. “Nobody walks around without identification or money. Or a credit card. Hell, a Costco card. Something.”
    “True.” Derek clutched his coffee cup. “But his pockets were cleaned out.”
    “Wow.” I was stymied. “So the killer searched Robin’s place and stole this guy’s identification papers. I don’t get it.”
    His eyes narrowed. “I don’t either. And until Robin is strong enough to return to her home, there’s no telling whether something was stolen or not.”
    “I doubt she’ll want to go inside