“Haven. Look at me.”
I looked, knowing everything was on display. Some people could hide their emotions behind a shield. I was not one of those people.
“In my defense, you sent me to the autopsy. What did you expect?”
Rue narrowed her eyes as she studied every nuance of my face. “Did he say yes?”
I pursed my lips and rocked my head from side to side. “Sort of.”
A single sculpted brow inched toward her hairline as she rolled a hand. “Might as well get this out of the way so it doesn’t interfere with our job later. God knows you’ll be insufferable otherwise.”
“I will not.”
“Talk.”
I heaved an exaggerated sigh and leaned forward, scanning the bustling room.
Dozens of detectives and constables rushed around. The harried energy in the bullpen was typical of a Monday morning as people raced about collecting new assignments or getting updates on the weekend arrests.
“You might as well join me at my desk,” she said. “I have stuff to show you anyhow.”
I dragged my chair beside Rue’s. A faint hint of floral perfume surrounded her, reminding me of the out-of-place tropical essence at the crime scene the previous day.
Rue wore a black pantsuit with a white blouse under the suit jacket. Sleek and professional as always. Her silky black hair hung past her shoulders. No ponytail that morning.
Our age difference meant Rue tended to mother-hen. It drove me up the wall. Once I got comfortable, she rapped the desk. “Talk.”
“We’re meeting at the Apothecary for a drink.”
“When?”
“Whenever I set it up. I was thinking tonight or tomorrow night.”
“Sounds like a date. Why the hesitation?”
“It is a date. I think. In a way. It was how I intended it when I asked, except…” I replayed the parking lot conversation in my head for the hundredth time but came up with the same unclear picture as I had the previous night. “I don’t think he accepted the offer as a date invitation. He seemed to stress it was a meeting with the sole purpose of discussing the results of the autopsy.”
“I can’t imagine you were subtle in your delivery.”
I wrinkled my nose. “No. Elifet is convinced I’m incapable of being subtle. He says my body language gives me away. I don’t know. I suppose if Dominique’s not interested in men, the invitation might have seemed bizarre or too forward. It could be why he emphasized discussing work.”
I sighed and scrubbed my face. Two days of scruff rasped against my palms. I’d forgotten to shave again, and if I wasn’t careful, my sergeant would pull me in for a reprimand. She wanted her detectives to fit a certain mold, and I never quite met those qualifications in her eyes. She nitpicked at everything.
“There’s a reason I’m single, you know. I truly suck at asking guys out.”
“Do you get a vibe at all? Don’t all the gays brag about having a sixth sense about these things? What do they call it? Gaydar?”
“Ugh. Mine is clearly broken. It’s weird. I do and I don’t get a vibe. Dominique is… reserved to excess. He stares at me in a way that feels like interest, but if I acknowledge it, he finds somewhere else to focus his attention, and I can’t snag it back. Did you know he has a kid?”
Rue flinched. “He does?”
“Yeah. She’s little. Two and a half. He has a picture of her on his desk. She’s fucking adorable.”
“A wife?”
“I asked. She passed away.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Rue smacked me across the back of my head so unexpectedly, I yelped and grabbed at the afflicted area. “Ow. What the heck was that for?”
