Chapter Five
The Starbucks was relatively empty when they arrived, sane people having reached the time of day to stop drinking caffeine. A small group of students occupied a few tables near the entrance, laptop wires tangled by the rare and coveted outlets. Once Juliet and Lassiter had settled onto bar stools in a quiet corner with fresh coffees, they pulled out their notebooks to compare records.
As soon as they'd sat down, Lassiter loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button, signaling his shift to thinking-mode rather than duty-mode. For a guy so dedicated to his cop identity, he seemed far happier out of uniform, Juliet noticed. She wasn't sure why she was feeling unusually warm toward him lately, particularly given how erratic he'd been, snappish and roughing up witnesses. A part of her felt that she was close to unlocking something in him that might help him turn a corner, that those glimpses of a calmer, kinder Lassiter she sometimes saw in private could be who he really was, given the right environment.
Realizing that he was already back on task, Juliet pulled her attention back to the present. Lassiter first filled her in on his own conversations, providing additional detail on the lighting issue the owner brought up.
Juliet agreed that the lighting malfunction sounded suspicious. "And get this," she said, flipping to the correct page. "She has a new boyfriend, Diego something. Nobody's met him, but she speaks highly of him."
"Well, that settles it," Lassiter said dryly. "We've obviously got our guy."
"Stop! I'm just saying that we have a plausible suspect. Maybe he came to pick her up and they got into an argument."
Lassiter frowned. "How new?"
"The other assistant manager said she'd first mentioned him a couple weeks ago, but she got the sense they'd been dating longer and got more serious." She looked up. "Why, what are you thinking?"
He shook his head. "Nothing yet."
"I mean, statistically, we have to rule out the boyfriend before chasing down a random attacker, right?"
Lassiter agreed with this reasoning. He paused. "Boyfriend's always the number one suspect. It's a wonder any woman dates a strange man."
Juliet picked up on his underlying anxiety. "That doesn't mean you should give up entirely," she said softly. "We know there are still good ones out there." She reached out a hand and rested it on his for a moment before withdrawing it again.
He gave her a crooked smile, the one that reminded her that somewhere beneath all the bluster, he was actually insecure and boyish. She waited as he processed her reassurance and, to her surprise, seemed to accept it without protest.
After a moment, she turned back to her notebook. "So, our next step should be getting an ID on Diego. I've asked her coworkers to call me if he turns up."
"Emergency contact is her sister, lives up in San Fran. Maybe the sister knows more about her personal life."
"Oh, great. Give me the number, I'll reach out." Juliet hesitated. "I mean, unless you'd rather…"
Lassiter glanced up, amused. "Calling a woman to tell her her sister is in the hospital and, by the way, does she know who's responsible? I think you're going to do a better job with that one."
Juliet leaned back, smiling.
He'd already returned to flipping through his notes, so it took a moment for Lassiter to realize that she had stopped doing the same and was just watching him. "What?" he asked, a little suspicious.
"Not that long ago, you would never have admitted that someone else could do something better than you. Even – especially – me."
"O'Hara, we both know you're better with people than I am," he protested.
"Yes," she said, undeterred. "But now you can say it without damaging your ego. You've changed."
"I'm still an ass." One of his hands, seemingly unconsciously, lifted to rub at his neck.
She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. You are sometimes. But a loveable one."
He looked down. "That's not a thing."
She continued watching him for a moment, amused. His ears were reddening. Usually when he was embarrassed, he would lash out, deflect the discomfort back on her, or change the subject entirely, but this silence was new.
Well, he was already uneasy, so she might as well lean into it. "How are you feeling about tomorrow night?"
He sighed. "How am I feeling about meeting a woman I know nothing about who's friends with my partner and will share all of my faults with her afterward? Great."
She pretended to miss the sarcasm. "I'm glad. I think you'll like Deborah."
Lassiter glared at her.
"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts." Juliet suddenly had a fear that he would back out at the last minute.
"I never had first thoughts. You pressured me into it."
Juliet chuckled and shook her head. "Carlton, that's not true and you know it. You were more than eager to chat up the prostitute with her breasts hanging out when you thought she was my friend."
His mouth fell open in shock. "She said her favorite movie was Heartbreak Ridge, too!"
"And you believed her?" Juliet rolled her eyes. "It's a wonder you graduated middle school, let alone the Academy."
"Hey, I have no problem asking women on dates." He looked a little angry now. "I would consider myself above average in that regard."
Though it could be his ego talking, Juliet suspected he was telling the truth. He did, after all, seem to lack a certain self-awareness about the effect he had on people sometimes, and that blind confidence combined with his general attractiveness would result in a greater degree of success in simply acquiring first dates.
"What are you wearing?" She figured a quick redirect might pull him back from whatever rant she guessed he was gearing up for.
He looked down, as if he thought she meant right now.
"Because I thought you should go for something dark blue, maybe."
"I know how to dress for a date, O'Hara," he said, still irritated.
She leaned forward, placing her arms on the table around her cup. "And how about your cologne? Do you have something a little more… spicy?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat under her scrutiny. "So, all I have to do is change everything about myself and women will like me – is that it?"
She sighed. "No, that's not what I mean." He was back to rubbing at his neck, eyes wandering around the rest of the coffeeshop to avoid meeting hers. "I just – you're very handsome."
His eyes darted back to her at the word handsome and then away again. "That's right. It's just my personality that makes me undateable."
Juliet lowered her entire head to stare at the edge of the table for a moment in frustration. In truth, she found it kind of charming that he didn't seem to be insecure about his looks, though that could be a little more of his bluster. "Now you're just being contrarian." She looked up again.
He was studying her, but made no move to object, perhaps choosing to disprove her by refusing to engage in further contrariness.
"You don't need to change everything," she continued gently. "You just need to accentuate your nice qualities." She paused, deciding whether this might fuel his discomfort further. "Like your eyes. Look at her the opposite of the way you'd look at a suspect. Just – give her a look that shows her you really see her." She swallowed. "Like that – exactly." Her words felt a little strangled.
He'd leaned in, his face not far from her own, and fixed his gaze directly on hers. There was a look in his eyes she'd never seen before, an intensity paired with a strange softness that contrasted so with the annoyance he'd expressed moments before that she spent the first few seconds just bewildered at the switch.
She knew she hadn't moved – if she moved forward even a few inches, Juliet's forehead would touch his – but she felt as if some force were drawing her closer nonetheless, inviting her into some space, and she welcomed its pull. That darkened blue of his eyes brought to mind a whirlpool, but what lay at the center remained a mystery.
This was definitely not the look he gave suspects, but if he kept it up much longer, she could see herself confessing something.
Something clanged in the vicinity of the counter, a barista dropping some metal piece of equipment, and it broke whatever spell had come over them. Lassiter blinked and pulled back, and she did the same, as if a string holding them together had snapped.
After a moment, Lassiter coughed. "Thanks for covering my overnight shift."
So he was going to move on without comment, Juliet thought wryly. It was just as well, since she didn't understand herself what had happened between them. "Of course. You've taken plenty of my shifts for a date." So few of them had been worth it, she thought.
"Damn straight," he said with a snort. For a second, she wondered if he'd read her mind. That must have been an aftereffect of the odd connection they'd severed.
Still flustered from their moment, Juliet groped for an innocuous topic. "While we're on the subject of self-improvement, maybe you should consider cutting back on the cream and sugar."
His eyes drifted down to where she gestured toward his cup. For a long moment, he didn't respond, and she wondered if she'd inadvertently hit a nerve.
"You want to know the truth?"
She swallowed, unsure where this was headed.
Lassiter looked up again, directly into her eyes, and there was a hint of the link they'd shared moments earlier. "I hate the taste of coffee. I only started drinking it for the caffeine on long shifts."
"Oh." Such a small admission, and yet Juliet felt as if she were privy to a detail from his life that he'd never shared with others. Not for the first time, she mused at what had caused him to guard himself so carefully that even his beverage preferences were shielded from scrutiny.
Anxious after his confession, Lassiter tapped his fingers against the side of his cup, looking away again. Juliet decided she needed to offer him an escape route from the entire conversation. She drew herself back, both physically and emotionally.
"Well, enjoy yourself tomorrow." She smiled cheekily. "And don't be an ass." She drained her cup and slid out of her seat before he could formulate an answer.