“You don’t have to answer any of that,” said the Bulldog. “Detective Heat,
you said you had a few questions about helping you ID suspects. Let’s stick to the
agenda.”
Algernon slid off his Kate Spade Vita sunglasses. “I don’t mind. Lets her know I’
m not some punk to fuck with, right?” He turned to Nikki. “I’m expanding. The
food truck thing is so yesterday, mon. Pop-up stores, that’s the thing. I just
secured permits to set up surprise locations at all the prime New York spots. No
more playing Where’s the Jerk? on social media. This week people are going to be
seeing my Do the Jerk stores springing up at Grand Central, Empire State Building,
Columbus Circle, Union Square, outside all the stadiums.” He slipped the Vitas back
on. “You want a job?”
“You never know. But congratulations, Mr. Barrett. I’ll have to come by.”
He stood and opened the desk drawer. “I’ll get you a free coupon.” He found one
and handed it to her, an oversized fake dollar with his picture in the statesman
spot. Helen Miksit then suggested the detective move along to business.
“First of all, Mr. Barrett, you are not under any suspicion. I am merely seeking
your help because my mother tutored your daughter in piano…”
“Ah, sweet lady, that Cynthia.”
“… Thank you. Anyway, I wanted you to think back to that time. May I ask if you
ever saw any of these people?” She came to the side of the desk and set out twin
head shots of Tyler Wynn, one circa 1999, the other present-day. He studied them at
length then shook no. When she placed the photo of Salena Kaye on his blotter, Nikki
caught a reaction. “What, Mr. Barrett? You recognize her?”
“No, but I’d sure like to. I’d have a fine time with that.” He chuckled
salaciously.
“Trust me, you wouldn’t.” She moved on to her last picture: the surveillance shot
of Dr. Ari Weiss and Fran?ois Sisson, Wynn’s Paris doctor, taken as both men talked
in the front seat of a parked car.
“I’m sorry,” said the Jamaican. “Don’t know them, either.”
“So we’re done,” said Miksit, getting to her feet. “And by done, we’re done-
done, right? My client will be left in peace?”
“Absolutely. But just one more question.” Nikki sat. The lawyer sat, too, but not
without checking her watch. “Mr. Barrett, would you try to think back? Do you ever
recall seeing my mother with anyone, even if it was before or after those piano
lessons?”
He tilted his head toward the acoustical tile to ponder, twirling the end of a
dread. He began to shake his head but then said, “You know, one time I remember. I
remember because, hoo, I got pissed off.” Heat gently opened her spiral pad. “I
got pissed off because my little Aiesha’s lesson got interrupted. See, that day we
had our tutoring session in Cynthia’s place in Gramercy Park because I had business
in Manhattan. Right in the middle of the lesson, buzz-buzz, someone’s at her door,
and Teacher Heat says, ‘pardon me,’ and goes into the hallway, leaving my girl to
sit there while she argues with someone.”
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?” Nikki leaned forward in her chair,
full of new anticipation.
Miksit stuck her nose in. “Detective, it was over ten years ago, how would he
remember what they were arguing about?”
“Money,” said Algernon Barrett. “When somebody talks big money, it’s not
something you forget.”
“What money? How big?” asked Heat. “Can you remember?”
“Not only can I remember how much, I remember what your mom said.” Nikki paused
her note taking and glued her eyes to him. “Teacher Heat, she say, ‘Two hundred
thousand dollars is nothing to you people, so get off my back.’ ”
Barrett had just named the exact amount of FBI seed money Agent Callan gave her
mother to bribe her informant. “Did you hear any more of the argument?”
He thought about that and said, “That’s all that sticks.”