A tight, humorless smile formed on her painted lips. “A coincidence. I didn’t know I was still listed as his beneficiary until yesterday when the lawyer contacted me, but I’m sure you won’t believe that.”
“It’s a hard sell.”
A nurse approached as though looking to interrupt our conversation. Fatemeh held up her hand in a stop motion, asking for a minute. The action was brief, and the nurse retreated, but not before something caught my eye.
Before Fatemeh could lower her hand, I caught her wrist. She immediately tried to wrench free, but I held tight, turning it to view the underside.
Fatemeh’s nostrils flared, and she pulled the appendage, trying to free herself a second time. “Let go of me.”
I didn’t and stared at the thick line of raw and torn skin along the base of her fingers. When she saw where my attention was focused, she snarled, “I lift weights, Detective. Calluses are par for the course, and I have a habit of tearing them off when I’m stressed. Ask anyone.”
I dropped the hand and snagged the other. “What are you stressed about?”
“You’re crossing a line, Detective.”
“Sue me.”
Teeth gnashing, Fatemeh relented to the inspection. The same line of freshly torn skin marred her other hand. Marks like that could be the result of many things. The remains of weightlifting calluses, sure. Maybe. Using all her strength to hold a rope while strangling a resistant male victim twice her size? Why not?
Fatemeh’s hostility mounted when I released her. Instead of stepping back, she moved into my personal space and lowered her voice. “Never touch me again. Consider that a warning.”
“You’re not a fan of men, are you?”
“I’m not a fan of men who think it is their right to touch women without permission. You and your badge and your authority don’t scare me. If you want to see what years of weight training have done for me, Detective, I dare you to cross that line again.”
I sensed more than I saw numerous hospital personnel stop and stare. For a moment, I wondered what Rue would say if she was present. Knowing better than to feed Fatemeh’s fire, especially when we had an audience, I stepped back and raised my hands in surrender, resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to get any information from this woman.
“Thank you for your time,” I bit out sarcastically before turning and marching away.
I was halfway down the hall, eyes on the elevator and my escape, when the specialist called out, “If you can’t see the connection between Jesse Vargas and my ex-husband, then you’re an idiot.”
Fists clenched, I ground to a halt and spun to face the smug doctor, who was adjusting her scarf and fixing her hair.
I waited, hating that she had regained the upper hand.
Finished arranging herself, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin at a smart angle, smirking. “My husband was many things, Detective, but a sex-fanatic he was not.”
She spoke loud enough that anyone nearby could hear. She clearly had no compunction about humiliating her husband, even in death. “The man self-prescribed Viagra for years. One of the reasons our marriage failed was because even with a little blue pill in his system, he couldn’t get it up. The man drank like a fish, among other things. Whether the drinking was the cause of his impotence or his impotence was the result of his heavy drinking, I have no idea.”
“Maybe it was you.”
She laughed humorlessly. “You would say that. Why are all men afraid of beautiful women?”
“You think you have me pegged, but you’re wrong. Your beauty has no effect on me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say. Use that tiny little brain of yours for once. Jesse Vargas was a drug dealer. My husband was a doctor with access to any pills he wanted. Shall I draw the parallel for you, or can you sort it out from there? The answer seems simple if you ask me.”
I frowned. “Are you saying Jesse bought drugs from Navid?”
“I have no idea if he did or didn’t, but you wanted a plausible connection between the two. I’m giving you one. I’m far more apt to believe that my husband peddled opioids or whatever the kids want these days than that he was some sort of sex-fanatic who couldn’t keep his limp dick in his pants. Particularly that he was seeking the company of students half his age.”
I refused to admit she might be onto something. Instead, I spun, waving over my shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Ms. Kordestani.”
“It’s Doctor, asshole.”
I gave her the finger. Rue wasn’t around, and this woman had shredded my final nerve.
Instead of heading backto the station, I aimed for the university campus and the building where Navid had his office. Classes had wrapped up for the holiday, so I wasn’t hopeful I would find who I was looking for, particularly on a weekend.
