“You’re an idiot, Haven.”
“Yeah, I know. Be more specific. What did I do?”
“You failed detective school, apparently. Do you want to know why he’s wishy-washy about your invitation and you can’t get a read on him?”
“Because he’s straight?”
“No, Haven. He’s grieving.”
“I mean… yeah, maybe. Probably, or he’s straight. He was obviously married, so he likely isn’t sure what to do with some random guy hitting on him.”
“I can’t believe I have to say this. Not all married men are straight. Not all people in hetero-presenting relationships are straight. He could be biand grieving.”
“Okay, no need to emphasize the obvious and lecture me. I hear you. My timing is shit. I should back out.”
“Kobe, he could be interested but not sure if he’s ready to move on.” Rue made a noise of exasperation in her throat and faced her laptop. “Tread carefully. That’s all. If he agreed to have a drink with you on the premise of discussing work, then maybe he’s unsure what he wants. Let the night unfold naturally. Play it by ear. Don’t push yourself on him.”
“Yes, mother. I didn’t plan to. I know how to date. Sort of. Did you know he’s from Gatineau?”
“I heard. Can we move this along? I IDed our victim from last night.” Rue motioned to the laptop screen. “Dr. Navid Kordestani. Forty-seven years old. Owns a house on Brantwood Drive, next to the river, south of where we found him. He worked part-time at the University Hospital in the ER and taught threenights a week at the University of Ottawa. His father is deceased. His mother is a resident at Billingswood Manor, a retirement home off Bank Street. He divorced his wife two years ago. They had no children.
“When he didn’t show up for his morning shift at the hospital and no one could get a hold of him, a concerned colleague made a friendly house call. She discovered his vehicle in the driveway but got no answer at the door. She called the local PD for a wellness check. They found no sign of him inside the house, but his wallet and keys were by the door. The pieces swiftly aligned when they came back to the station to file the report.”
An image of the deceased appeared on Rue’s computer screen.
“Yep. That’s our guy.” I gave my partner a rundown of what I’d learned at the autopsy the previous night, confirming the cause of death and explaining the postmortem insertion of the spike.
Rue spun in her chair to face me. “What do you make of the flower and note?”
“Our perp is telling us something. I’m not sure what exactly, but by calling Navid a heartless bastard, I assume they are justifying their kill. The perfume is bizarre. Do you think that was intentional?”
“Yes. It was too strong to be a transfer. I asked a tech for an analysis on it specifically, but the decomposition of the rose is an issue. Are you still leaning toward a male suspect and potential infidelity?”
“I’m not locked in, but it makes sense.”
“So, a jaded husband found out his wife was cheating and went after the lover?”
I waffled my head from side to side. “It’s been known to happen. I’m more apt to believe a husband went after his wife’s lover than a wife sought retribution for a cheating husband.”
“Why?”
“Strangling him like that? No fucking way.”
“That’s sexist, Kobe.”
“It’s a fact. We discussed it.”
“It’s sexist. There are plenty of women capable of bringing down a man twice his size.”
I held my hands up. “Okay. I submit. Icouldbe wrong, but it’s not likely. Besides…” I tipped my head at the computer. “He’s divorced, remember? We’ll keep a female suspect on the table, but I’m not sold. We should talk to a few of this guy’s colleagues and see if he had any enemies or was dating someone.”
“And the mother? We have to deliver the news at some point.”
“I know.” I shifted uncomfortably as my gut twinged. “I hate giving bad news to the elderly.”
“It’s delicate. Word will get out, and we have to stay ahead of it.”
“Fine. Nursing home first, then we visit the hospital and university.”
