Entry Island

The condo was on the third floor of an apartment block in St Lambert. It had three bedrooms, and would have made an ideal first home for a couple wanting to start a family. That thought had always been in the back of Sime’s mind when he took it on. He had been in a relationship then that had lasted nearly a year, a record for him, and they had been going to move in together.

Then suddenly she was gone. Without a word. And Sime never did know why. Which is when the self-doubt had started creeping in.

Meeting people had never been easy for him. A policeman’s hours, almost by definition, are antisocial. Even harder was maintaining a relationship, because there was never any guarantee what time you would be home, or sometimes what day. Sime had never really got involved in the social life of the Sûreté, like so many of his colleagues. It had just seemed too incestuous. So the dating agency had been something like the last hope of a desperate man.

It was a friend from his academy days who first suggested it, and at first Sime had been violently opposed to the idea. But it worked away at his subconscious over several weeks, slowly breaking down all his arguments against it. And finally his resolve faltered.

It was an online agency. He had to verify for them who he was, of course, but beyond that complete anonymity was guaranteed. They provided him with a fictitious dating name that he could choose to dispense with, or not, after their first meeting.

Sime spent a whole evening filling in the questionnaire on the website, trying to answer as honestly as he could. And then when he reviewed his answers decided nobody in their right mind would want to date him. So he was both surprised and a little shocked when the agency said they had come up with a match, and that if he wanted, she would be happy to meet him.

Sime had faced down murderers, been shot at, disarmed a man with an automatic rifle on a killing spree, but he had never felt as nervous as he did the night of his first date.

They had arranged to meet in a Starbucks on Avenue du Mont-Royal Est. Sime arrived early, afraid that he would get snarled up in traffic and be late. The place was quiet when he got there and ordered a grande caramel macchiato. He sat near the window so he could see customers come and go.

Which is when he saw Marie-Ange crossing the street outside. He knew her, of course. She was one of the department’s crime scene specialists, though they had never actually worked together. Sime turned away so that she wouldn’t see him sitting in the window, but was horrified when she pushed open the door and headed for the counter. He almost cringed with embarrassment at the thought she might discover that he was there on a blind date set up by an internet dating agency. It would have been all over the division the next day. He fervently hoped that she was just in for a take-out and wouldn’t notice him.

But he had no such luck. She picked up her skinny latte from the barista and turned to look straight at him. Sime wanted the ground to swallow him up. She seemed almost startled, but there was no way of avoiding the fact that they had seen each other. So she smiled and came over to sit down at his table. Sime did his best to return her smile, but felt it was more like a grimace.

‘Hi, Sime. Fancy meeting you here.’

He blurted, ‘I’m waiting for someone.’

‘Oh?’ A wry smile spread itself across her face and she pushed up one eyebrow. ‘Hot date?’ In contrast to his agitation she seemed unnaturally relaxed.

‘Sort of.’

‘Anyone I’d know?’

‘I shouldn’t think so.’

‘Can’t be anyone in the force, then. I only seem to know cops these days.’

‘Yeah, me too.’

‘Except for your date.’

Sime tried to seem amused. ‘Yeah. Except for my date.’

A silence settled awkwardly between them and they sipped on their respective plastic lids. She glanced at her watch and Sime stole a look at her. He had never really paid her much attention before. She was just one of the guys, the short hair and boyish figure contributing to that sense of her. But he saw now that there was a wonderful depth to the green of her eyes, a finely angled jawline and rather full lips. At second glance she was really quite attractive. She looked up and caught him watching at her.

‘What time’s your date?’

‘Seven.’

She sighed. ‘Pity. You could have taken me to dinner. I’ve got nothing else to do tonight.’

And suddenly he thought, yes! I would much rather have dinner with you. With someone I didn’t have to pretend with. Someone who already knows me. Who knows I’m a cop, and what that means. He raised his eyes towards the clock on the wall. It was still only 6.55. He stood up. ‘Let’s do that.’

She frowned. ‘Do what?’

‘Have dinner?’

She laughed. ‘What about your date?’

Sime shook his head and glanced nervously towards the door in case she would suddenly turn up. ‘Never liked her much anyway.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on.’

She laughed again and took it and stood up. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I know a great little place over on Rue Jeanne-Mance.’