Puzzles of the Heart

Chapter 2

A ballet dancer working her way through dance school as an exotic dancer was found dead in the woods near a neighborhood. Normally I grow as fascinated as my partner as we build our cases but this one got to me. The thought of someone drilling into some poor woman's skull just so he could damage her brain, make her act like she wanted to stay with him, it made me sick. I couldn't wait to catch this creep and put him behind bars.

When we found the guy, Bobby wanted a meal voucher, to get close to the perp. I didn't realize it, but it was Nelda all over again. The farther Bobby got inside this guy's head, the more he sympathized with him. The more he understood his interests, his triggers, his motives, the more he empathized.

Once Bobby understood that John Tagman was drinking because of his remorse, Bobby got reeled in. I wished I had been with him when he had went to talk to this guy. I will always wonder what Tagman said to him exactly that made Bobby jump so completely into his corner. Neither the Captain, ADA Carver nor I could get past the things that Tagman did to his victims but the one afternoon Bobby spend with him alone, playing the big brother was enough to convince him that the young chocolatier was worth saving. You didn't tell me what you had planned, you didn't take me into your confidence, Bobby.

We finished interrogating Tagman and I left the room. I thought Bobby was right behind me but he stayed and got the man to confess. He blew the ADA's plans for first degree right out of the water, right in front of the attorney's eyes.

By the time we got word of Tagman's murder in the prison laundry room, I had calmed down enough and given the problem enough thought that I understood my partner's reasons. Not only his reasons for going to bat for Tagman, but what drew Bobby to him. You felt sorry for him, Bobby. You could empathize with the struggle he had forming attachments, chatting up the girls, being the shy guy. I've watched my partner over the years. He has an incredible amount of charm that he uses on women and men alike to get what he wants. I've seen him charm information out of librarians, hookers, priests and mothers. He does it so elegantly that only I can tell that it comes at a price. Underneath, he is a shy guy, too. Maybe Bobby thinks he could be in John Tagman's shoes if only he hadn't been smart enough, observant enough to cultivate that charm. "You never seem to doubt your own intelligence, Bobby, why do you ever doubt your own humanity?"

When we left Carver's office, I asked Bobby to the Cop Shop bar for a drink. We found seats at the end of the bar away from the blare of the juke box and crowds around the pool table. Bobby looked at me sharply when the bartender set a martini down in front of me without asking. I kept my eyes on the floating olive. I didn't speak until his whiskey was in front of him and he had downed a good portion of it.

"I ..I uh wanted to apologize Bobby." I stuttered. That got his attention and he turned on his stool to face me. "I didn't get it at first why you could take up for Tagman. I couldn't see past what he had done for awhile." I looked up from the olive to see Bobby looking at me intently. I could see compassion and the understanding he had for how hard I found it to say this to him.

"I know we are supposed to only concern ourselves with catching the bad guys and making sure there is enough evidence to convict them but......" he left off and took another sip of the whiskey. "I find it impossible to separate evidence from truth. The evidence isthe truth, to me. It was impossible for me to find the evidence of John Tagman's guilt and then ignore the evidence of his horror and remorse. I couldn't sit idly by and watch Carver only choose to use half of the truth." I smiled at him encouragingly. "It's always when I'm trying to find out the whole truth that I seem to lose the support of those around me." He hung his head as if he was ashamed.

I had turned in my seat to face him also. I took both of his hands in mine, marveling at their size and delicacy. A small shiver ran through me as I couldn't help taking a moment to think what those hands might feel like on my skin. "Bobby, you didn't lose anyone's support. Yes, the Captain and I were surprised, at first, but both of us understood eventually. After you left, the captain told Carver to hurry up and get in there to Tagman to offer him a plea. Carver even pulled me aside after we got the call from the prison to say he realized he had been overzealous."

My thumbs rubbed gentle circles over his palms. Bobby kept his eyes focused on our hands but he looked up into my eyes as I finished speaking. A small gentle smile played at his lips. I knew my expression at the that moment was unguarded and the truth lay open upon my face. The smile grew wider as he brought a finger to my temple and brushed an errant lock of my hair away from my eyes tucking it behind my ear. That same finger finished its descent by drawing a trail of fire down my jaw line and out to the tip of my chin. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear: "Thank you, Eames." His lips just barely brushed my cheek and then he was gone. I sat there dazedly not believing what had just happened. I spent the next few moments still feeling his lips on my cheek, wishing there was a way to capture the feeling in a box so I could take it home and keep it for always.

I spent the weekend with my family. That always helped me regain my equilibrium but I finally gave into my desires and called him on Sunday just to hear his voice. "What are you doing?" I asked him.

His voice was a rich chuckle at my question. "I um, uh was just about to catch a movie actually."

I felt mortified that I had given into my stupid temptation and had interrupted him on a date. "Hey, have a nice time, Bobby. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

"Eames," I heard just before I was going to hang up. "Would you like to come with me?" I couldn't believe how much I felt like a school girl, I couldn't bring myself to answer, I was so surprised. "Eames?", there was that chuckle again.

"What's the movie, probably some French film with subtitles and no popcorn, huh?"

"Ah, its actually a chick flick." He said. I bristled at the term and I was pretty sure he realized that and he had used it to get a rise out of me. "But you'll have to come if you want to know what it is."

Two hours later we were emerging from the theater just as the marquee lights were coming on. "What made you choose Breakfast at Tiffany's?" I asked. He had turned to walk to the left of the theater, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He was walking slowly put I still had to trot to keep up with his long stride.

"I met this sort of strange guy in the library last week. We were both reaching for the same dusty old psychology tome. We struck up a conversation. I told him what I did for a living and he began to spout off psychology sources he thought would be of use to me. Get this, he's a retired cop." We had both come to a stop on the sidewalk. "I think he may have been asked to leave. Anyway, I had read most of the sources he sighted then the guy cocked his head to the side and studied me really intently and asked if I had ever seen Breakfast at Tiffany's. I told him I hadn't and the guy just smiled, shook my hand and left."

"Who was he?"

"Just said his name was Nickels." Bobby shrugged and continued down the block.

"Doesn't ring any bells with me. Hey, my car is the other way." I said using it as an excuse to take his arm.

"But the best ice cream in the city is this way." He said putting his hand over my hand and threading his fingers through mine, effectively trapping it there as if I would want to remove it. There was a cold wind swirling lazily around the buildings lifting newspapers and playbills into the air and twirling them around my ankles. I stopped to pull one such paper off me where it had somehow gotten lodged in the top of my boot but Bobby leaned down to retrieve it first. I had to close my eyes as I felt his hand on my thigh near the edge of my skirt. Surely, he was taking too long just to pull a piece of trash away from me. I didn't open my eyes again until I could feel he had straightened back up to his full height and was no longer caressing my thigh. Did I imagine that his face looked flushed or was it just the cold wind that created the apples in his cheeks and had reddened the tip of his nose?

He repositioned my scarf around my neck and gave me one of those rare delicious smiles that made me immediately not need my scarf ever again. "Name your poison, Eames. What do you like Rocky Road, Vanilla or Rum Raisin?" He began to run the rest of the way to the shop pulling me along after him.