“A toe tag? Yes, it is. Isn’t it great?”
“How morbidly appropriate.” Still chuckling, I set the paper aside and lifted the drink to my nose, swirling the liquid. The smoky essence remained, and when I sipped, it blended with several other flavors. Under the distinct punch of rye, I picked out subtle notes of amaretto, cinnamon, and something I couldn’t identify.
Kobe seemed to be waiting anxiously for my report, so I tipped the glass in his direction. “It’s incredible and strong enough to make my eyes water.”
“It reminds me of summertime.”
“Of camping,” I confirmed.
“Yes.” His eyes lit up. “Do you camp?”
I could imagine Kobe as an outdoorsman. I suspected he hiked or played sports. The theory was based strictly on his rugged appearance. “I did as a child. I haven’t been in years. You?”
“I do. I take my little brother every summer. We fish, canoe, and hit the trails. I help coach his Little League team as well.”
I studied Kobe, reminding myself he’d claimed to be thirty-two. “There must be quite an age gap. How young is your brother?”
“Oh. No. I mean, he’s not my little brother in the sense that we’re related. I volunteer with the Big Brothers organization. Émeric and I were paired up three years ago when he was six. He’s nine now. I try to spend time with him at least once a week, provided my work schedule doesn’t get in the way. He’s great.”
Big Brothers. I’d heard about the organization. “That’s… impressive.”
Kobe shrugged. “I hate seeing kids struggle.” He looked away with a troubled expression. I suspected it was a topic with far more depth than he was willing to share. That was fine. Personal subjects were off the table for me as well.
“Are you a fan of coconut?” he asked, his smile returning.
I paused, thinking of the perfume and his comment at the crime scene but sensed that wasn’t what he was referring to. “Not particularly, why?”
“The Midnight Cure is another one of my favorite drinks, but I won’t recommend it if your palate doesn’t lean in that direction. It’s tropical.”
Kobe’s Mortician arrived, and we underwent the same smoky unveiling as before. Once the bartender had moved off, Kobe spun and squinted into the shadowed lounge. “We should find a table. This way.”
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.
