Chapter 9 Kobe #2
I tore a piece from my bagel, smirking. “Right. Second date.” I ate the morsel and washed it down with a sip of coffee.
“How about we focus on lighter stuff. Heck, we might not have anything in common. In which case, discussing our tragic pasts would be a waste of time and emotional energy. So, tell me about Dominique Chevalier. What do I need to know?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Seeming perplexed, he shook his head. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“Give me the Dominique Chevalier dating app profile. The full rundown. It’s mostly how I get to know guys. I’m embarrassed to admit I’m a modern age cliché.”
I earned another half-smile as he inspected his croissant.
“All right. Let’s see. I’m thirty-eight, raising a strong-willed toddler on my own.
I wake at an ungodly hour to go to the gym three or four days a week—for sanity more than anything.
I cycle in the summer, enjoy single malt scotch in the evenings with nonfiction books I shamelessly collect in abundance, and I have a fascination with anatomy.
I dissect human cadavers in my spare time. ”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “You also have a dry sense of humor that I quite enjoy, Doc.”
“Was it a winning profile?”
“The best. I’d click that.”
Although a depth of pain I might never understand still haunted his husky-blue eyes, a spark of life surfaced with the lighter conversation. “I like your laugh,” he said.
“I like your smile.”
“How about you, Detective? Let’s hear the Kobe Haven dating app profile. See if I’m interested in a deeper look or if I’m scrolling past.”
“Oh-no. No pressure.” I chewed another bite of bagel as I considered, then playfully rubbed my hands together. “Okay. Ready?”
Dominique waited.
“First of all. My profile picture is me, shirtless on a beach. Golden tan. Sleek shades. Sunkissed hair all messy and sexy. I’m buff, but not gym buff. More a guy-with-solid-genes buff.”
“So far so good.” He rolled a hand for me to continue.
“I’m thirty-two with the heart of a twenty-five-year-old.
I love sleeping in, watching football with my unfairly hot neighbor, and playing video games with my little brother.
I coach baseball in the summer and have a nasty habit of instigating snowball fights in the winter.
They never end well, and I have a scar on my jaw to prove it.
” I pointed it out, but it was usually hidden under dense scruff since I had a love-hate relationship with shaving every day.
“Despite my admirable volunteering, I have the sense of humor and attitude of a twelve-year-old, and it often gets me in trouble. I’ve never been to Europe or Asia or anywhere overseas, but I’ve been to various resort destinations in Mexico. Please refer back to my stunning profile picture.”
Dominique’s lopsided smile grew.
“Sounds lovely, right? Well, every time I go, I come home sunburned and with far too many black holes in my memory thanks to my on-again, off-again relationship with tequila. I knowingly cave to peer pressure. It’s one of my charming flaws that is becoming less charming as I age.
In my spare time, I hunt down baddies and try not to piss my sergeant off.
I’m better at the former than the latter.
” I contemplated. “I think that sums it up.”
“I’d click that.”
Lowering my voice, I leaned over the table. “But would you tap that?” I wiggled my brows.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, hotshot.”
Laughing, I held up my hands in submission. “I would never.”
“So, you’re a good detective?”
I shrugged. “Not bad. Rue and I have a decent solve rate, but it’s not glamorous like the cop shows. Cases go cold all the time. More people than I’d like to admit get away with murder, even in this modern age of technology.”
“Why homicide?”
“Now that’s a good question. The short answer. There was an opening, and it paid better than patrol.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep. No secret passion. No family tragedy drew me to hunt down killers. I have a degree in criminology, so that gave me a leg up, and everyone else who applied didn’t have enough years under their belt.
Truthfully, street patrol landed me in trouble more than I’d like to admit.
My sergeant was encouraged to hire me in the hope that it might give me direction and help me focus.
I would not have been her first choice.”
I rapped my knuckles on the table. “But now we’re hedging into territory I’m not ready to talk about. Let’s move on, shall we?”
Dominique ate a few bites of his croissant as he studied me with less reservation. “I thought you were younger when I met you.”
“Most people do. Good genes, remember? I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen. It meant I had to grow up fast, but my best friend Elifet thinks it had the opposite effect.”
“Meaning?”
“He thinks I’m impulsive and immature. Perpetually sixteen because no one taught me how to be a proper adult. It’s not true. I’m a full-fledged adult with credentials to prove it.”
To be fair, Elifet had spouted his opinion one time six years ago during an argument, but I’d never been able to let it go, even after he’d apologized. Deep down, I knew there was truth in the statement, but if I didn’t make light of it, then all it did was piss me off.
“Hence, your on-again, off-again relationship with tequila and your tendency to cave to peer pressure?”
I chuckled. “Something like that.”
“Why Mexico?”
“No particular reason. When I was eighteen, a buddy invited me to join him and his friends over spring break. Someone in their group dropped out at the last minute, and they needed to fill a spot. Half of the trip was paid for, so I scrounged up the rest and went. It was the first vacation I’d ever taken.
I had the time of my life. All the bullshit I’d been dealing with for years was gone in an instant.
“I kept going back, looking for that same sense of freedom, but I couldn’t recreate it, not like the first time.
I had fun, don’t get me wrong, but the older I got, the more life and being a responsible fucking adult got in the way of my enjoyment.
You can’t turn back time. You can’t be carefree and eighteen forever, no matter how hard you try.
It took me a long time to realize that.”
“That doesn’t sound immature and impulsive to me.”
A self-deprecating laugh escaped me. “You don’t know the whole story.”
“What’s the whole story?”
I licked a finger and stabbed a few remaining crumbs off my plate. “Let’s just say it involved a rental car, too much alcohol, and a swimming pool. I broke up with tequila for good after that trip and decided I wasn’t going back. I’m still paying for damages, and I almost lost my job.”
Dominique looked intrigued, but the shame of the whole situation was unbearable. Why did I bring it up?
“Please don’t ask. The details aren’t important.
The point is, the next time I travel, it will be with grown-up pants on and to somewhere historic with culture.
I’ll go to museums and visit ancient ruins.
No more beach resorts. No more tequila. No more bad decisions.
Is scotch a nice guy? We don’t know each other well. He sounds sophisticated.”
“He keeps me warm on cold nights. I can’t complain.”
“See? That’s the kind of man I’m looking for. Tequila has a complete disregard for my health or well-being.”
“He sounds like an asshole.”
“He truly is.”
Dominique stared for a long time with an edge of curiosity or wonder. For the first time since we met, he seemed properly engaged. Interested. Content.
I didn’t have a glowing track record when it came to life.
I’d made a lot of mistakes growing up, partly because I’d had no one watching over me, giving me directions.
Even when I lived at home, no one cared.
I’d fought for everything from my education to my job, from securing a roof over my head to ensuring I had food in the fridge.
I might have grown into a mostly mature and somewhat responsible adult, but there were plenty of days when it felt like the sixteen-year-old boy inside me was still struggling to find his way in a complicated world.
Dominique didn’t seem to mind the picture I’d painted, so maybe there was hope.
Desperate to shift the conversation away from my unglamorous youth, I tossed the ball in Dominique’s court. “How about you? Ever done stupid shit you regret?”
He huffed humorlessly and examined his empty coffee mug. “Haven’t we all?”
“Wanna share?”
He seemed to consider, then shook his head and changed the subject. “Did you get my report?”
“Oh. Yes. I meant to message you about that. Sorry I didn’t make it to the autopsy on Monday.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“I know. I wanted to be there, but we’ve been busy.”
Dominique pushed his empty plate aside and set his mug on top, and I got the sense the date was coming to a close. Especially if we were veering back to work talk. “Have you sorted anything out? With the case, I mean.”
“Still working through it. We spent much of Monday locating Jesse’s parents and delivering the bad news.
That never goes well. We interviewed them.
They were distraught, obviously, so we didn’t get as much information as we would have liked.
Plus, Jesse was an adult with his own life, so they didn’t know much about acquaintances or relationships.
Yesterday, we worked on getting an idea of who he was, where he worked, who he associated with, and so forth. Get this…”
I leaned over the table, lowering my voice.
“Jesse Vargas attended the University of Ottawa. Same place Navid taught. He wasn’t in a medical program or anything, but still.
It’s a loose connection. About the only one we could find.
Also, he got kicked out of his program last year for trafficking drugs on campus, and this was after several accusations were filed with the administration.
Inappropriate advances on female students. ”