Chapter 6 #2
I followed as he maneuvered skillfully through the room.
We passed several empty booths, but Kobe disregarded them, moving deeper into the gloom.
In a tucked-away corner near the rear of the lounge, he slid onto a curved bench that hugged a round table.
The high backing of the seat added an extra layer of privacy.
Definitely not a business meeting. In another life, under different circumstances, I might have been thrilled to have snagged Kobe’s attention, but with the metric ton of baggage slung from my shoulders, it wasn’t going to work.
What was I doing?
A short candle flickered in a glass holder. Its amber flame highlighted the contours of Kobe’s face, reflecting in his eyes. I kept a distance between us, but the circular table wasn’t meant for a large party, so our knees bumped regardless.
Kobe did not withdraw his knee.
Still unsure about the direction I planned to take, I shifted away, eliminating contact. The change in his countenance suggested he had noticed.
He diverted his gaze about the room but said nothing.
I focused on the drink cradled between my palms, admiring the subtle refractions as the combination of liquids emulsified.
The Apothecary was a well-rounded sensory experience.
Between the close atmosphere, the dramatic unveiling of the drinks, the music, and the olfactory reminder of my childhood, I needed a minute to absorb.
Never mind that the man beside me seemed to pull me into his orbit without trying.
“Do you come here often?”
Kobe seemed to be watching an intimate exchange between a couple at a table over. My question brought him back from wherever his thoughts had taken him.
He smiled and sipped his drink. The matching dimples did not appear. “A couple of times a month. They have live jazz music on Thursday nights. It’s busier, but well worth it. My buddy and I make reservations and have dinner. The menu is fantastic.”
Kobe mindlessly rotated his glass. His gaze locked on me as though trying to puzzle something out.
The timidity I initially witnessed when he made the invitation was gone.
Curiosity seemed to remain, but also reservation.
I suspected that moving my leg away from his had surfaced questions.
Kobe didn’t know where I sat any more than I did.
Unsure how to respond or where to take the conversation, I focused on the candle’s flame. Angelique’s sad eyes flickered in my memory.
“How’s the case?” I asked, scrambling to break the tension I’d created.
Kobe sipped his drink. “Which one?”
Confused, I shifted my attention from the candle to face him.
Kobe chuckled. “Sorry. I’m kidding. We’re busy with several cases. You mean Navid, the heartless bastard. Well, the guy has a long list of people who consider him an asshole, so I anticipate his death will go unsolved, unless we unexpectedly hit pay dirt. Our suspect pool at present is immense.”
“Oh. That bad?”
Kobe eyed me with a hint of mischief. “I’m not really supposed to talk about open cases, Doc. You know that.”
I stalled, unsure what to say and concerned about the direction of our night. “I thought… Wasn’t that why you wanted to meet?”
I knew it wasn’t. Discussing the case was how Kobe had justified the meet-up, but I had intended to use the excuse for my own gain. It provided a buffer for this obvious date.
Kobe slapped my arm, his dimples reemerging.
“I’m kidding. I mean, I’m not. My sergeant would have my head if you were anyone else, but you’re on the inside.
Honestly, there isn’t much to tell. We chatted with his colleagues at the hospital and university, and apart from a TA, who sings his praises, everyone seems to confirm that Navid was a douchebag.
We were hoping to chat with the ex-wife today, but she’s a surgeon at Montfort and was booked solid. We’re meeting with her in the morning.”
“What do you hope to learn?”
Kobe shrugged. “Not sure, but the TA seemed convinced their separation was not amicable.”
“Divorces rarely are.”
“True.” Another shrug. “That’s it. That’s all we’ve got. Dead guy on a trail and a hundred and ten people who aren’t all that sad about it. I give it a week, maybe two, and we’ll be shifting it aside for something else.”
The conversation died, and I wasn’t sure how to resuscitate it. The mellow jazz filtered in from a hidden speaker system saved us from an awkward moment. We sipped our drinks, and when a server stopped by to ask if we needed anything, Kobe requested two more Morticians.
When she left, he drained his tumbler and shifted, draping an arm across the seatback and folding his knee into the space between us. “I read your report. I have a question.”
“Shoot. I might have an answer.”
The candlelight danced in his eyes, transfixing me in the moment.
“The flower spike in the heart, the white rose, the message, the perfume. It’s significant.
All of it. Rue put me on an impossible mission of researching flower shops, but I spent time this afternoon researching the symbolism of a white rose instead.
It’s frustratingly subjective. People give white roses at weddings, funerals, anniversaries, graduations, you name it.
It can mark new beginnings, be used to remember the deceased, or offer comfort during difficult times.
They can stand for purity, devotion, love, friendship, and a handful of other things. ”
“That doesn’t sound helpful.”
“It’s not. I have a feeling I won’t know its true meaning in relation to the case until I uncover our suspect. If I uncover our suspect. Even then, understanding why a killer does something isn’t always clear-cut. Often, their motivations are subjective, rooted in their personal psychology.”
“You took criminology, right?”
“I did.”
“It shows.”
Kobe swelled with pride. “It’s the spike that makes me curious.”
“What about it?”
“Past the ribs and through the heart. A heartless bastard. This is more important than the rose, in my opinion.”
“Oh?”
The server arrived with our drinks and made his presentation. The comforting cloud of memories stirred once again.
Kobe deeply inhaled. “I love that smell. Rideau River Provincial Park. I can feel the sticky August heat on my skin, along with pesky mosquitoes.”
“Calabogie Lake in the fall. Campfires and autumn leaves.”
“Never been there.”
“I don’t remember much except it was gorgeous.”
I brought the fresh drink to my nose and closed my eyes as the soft tendrils of smoke worked their magic. Snippets of those camping trips came and went. Pumping water from the well. Building sandcastles on the beach with my father. Hiking endless trails. Climbing trees.
Mournfully, I added, “It was a long time ago.” A time of childhood innocence before the cruel world hooked its claws into my heart and shredded me alive. “The spike. You were asking a question.”
Kobe paused a moment as though recovering his thoughts. “Right. The spike.” He traced the tips of his fingers along his bottom lip as he squinted into the middle distance. “How much space is there between a person’s ribs?”
I frowned. I wasn’t sure what I had expected Kobe to ask, but that wasn’t it. “The intercostal spaces vary from person to person. Why?”
“Approximately how much?”
“Maybe somewhere between ten and twenty millimeters on average. If you want a textbook answer, I would have to look it up. Why?” I asked again.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but impaling someone between the ribs would require extreme precision and substantial force, right?”
“I wouldn’t say substantial. There are three layers of intercostal muscles.
External, internal, and the innermost. They all aid in breathing.
Breaking through them with a sharp or pointed object like your flower spike wouldn’t be all that difficult.
There would be resistance, but with moderate force, it would slide through easily enough. ”
“Provided the ribs weren’t hit.”
“Correct.”
“According to your report, you didn’t find any failed attempts.”
“No.”
“What are the chances of that?”
“I’m not sure I understand. The man was already dead. We discussed the ease with which the subject could probe the victim’s body to determine their location.”
“Okay, but let’s say someone has zero knowledge of human anatomy. What are the chances they bypass the ribs on the first try by simply feeling for the correct location?”
I saw where he was going. Navid’s colleagues were doctors, nurses, med students, and professors in a similar field.
All of them would have a base knowledge of human anatomy.
The only exception would be the ER patients he purportedly upset.
Having that level of familiarity with human anatomy eliminated all but a select pool of suspects.
“First try, and with no hesitation? Slim, I suppose. Especially with something easily breakable like a plastic flower spike. It wouldn’t take much resistance to snap the shaft if they didn’t have the correct angle.”
Kobe grinned. “I thought so.”
I examined the pride on the detective’s face. His honey-brown eyes glimmered amber in the candlelight. Tiny flames burned within, drawing me under his spell. Kobe’s scruff wasn’t as dense as the other day, but he still sported a five o’clock shadow. It was alluring and tempting.
When his knee met mine again under the table, I blinked, breaking his hypnotic pull. Clearing my throat, I shifted without thinking, drawing away and deciding too late that maybe, perhaps, I should have left my leg there.
Again, the blazing inferno dimmed. Kobe glanced at his drink. He wet his lips and seemed uncomfortable.
Before he could shut down, I asked, “How does that information help you?”
“It doesn’t. Not really. Navid works in the medical field. It could be anyone.” A pause. “I was making conversation.”