Buckley flinched. “Are you serious?”
I waited, despising how this guy wanted me to validate everything.
“No. Why do you want to make him into a bad guy? God, you people are the worst. He was smart and helpful and one of the best teachers in the medical program.”
Buckley’s insistence on Navid’s glowing character felt over the top. I suspected he wouldn’t say a single bad thing about the professor if he had a gun pointed at his head, which alone was odd.
“One last question. Were you aware that Dr. Kordestani was on the committee that decided Jesse Vargas’s fate at the university last year?”
“I heard.”
“How did you hear? Did he tell you?”
“No. I wasn’t his TA last year, but everyone knew because Fatemeh found out how he voted and fucking tore him apart for it in the middle of the dining hall in the north building. She made a huge scene. Have you seen her? We all thought she was going to flatten him.”
I stared at the kid, but nothing on his face or in his body language told me he was lying. Was this how the rumor had spread?
Fatemeh had lied to me.
20
Kobe
I sat in mycar in the department’s back lot, rolling new ideas around my head, too reluctant to go inside and face the fire that was my partner and sergeant, at least not until I was sure I had something worth sharing.
Rue had sent me on a goose chase to entertain me and keep me out of her hair. I wasn’t stupid. She considered my theory ridiculous and thought I wasn’t focused, but the joke was on her. I’d made discoveries.
Could Navid have been providing Jesse with drugs to sell on campus, or was the suggestion Fatemeh’s deliberate means of redirecting my attention? If it was true, how did peddling drugs get him killed? Why had Fatemeh lied? Was Navid murdered for insurance money, or was there something deeper and darker going on?
Insurance money alone didn’t explain why Ford and Jesse were dead, so it had to be something else.
How were the three connected?
What was I missing?
Head buzzing, I located Dominique’s number in my contacts and hit Connect, letting it ring. The man wasn’t at work, but he had taken home the autopsy files for all three of our victims, and I had niggling questions.
He answered on the third ring. Children’s music sounded in the background at high volume.
I chuckled. “Saturday morning cartoons?”
“I wish. At least that would be something different. Cosette is on aT’choupi et Doudoukick. We watch the same ten episodes on repeat and have been for the past six months.”
“It could be Dora.”
“I’d take Dora in a heartbeat. I’d even take the cursed Caillou, and I can’t stand that whiny fucker.”
I laughed. “That’s a big bad word for you, Doc. Might be the first time I’ve heard it cross your lips.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a trying morning. Cosette woke up in a mood, so I’m doing all I can to keep tantrums at bay, but I’m sure you didn’t call to chat about children’s television shows and hardheaded toddlers.”
Dominique must have relocated to another part of the house since the background noise quieted. “What can I do for you?”
“Hopefully, answer a few questions.”
“Shoot.”
“I’m curious if any of our victims had drugs or alcohol in their systems at the time of death.”
