“By any chance, did you happen to see who my mother argued with?”
“Lady, you kidding? Anybody says two hundred long is no biggie to somebody, I’m
gonna see who it is.” He curled the fingers of one hand to his palm and looked at
Nikki through the tunnel he’d made. “I peeped the peep hole in that door.” He
paused. “Looked like a cop.”
Heat had expected that. Just for drill, she asked, “Can you describe him?”
“Him? Wasn’t a him, it was a her.”
“And she looked like a cop?” Nikki drew a line through Callan’s name. “Can you
describe her?”
He thought again. “Sorry… It’s just been too long.” He laughed. “And too many
spliffs.”
His attorney quickly added, “That is a figure of speech, not an admission of guilt.
”
That evening, Rook’s only response to Nikki’s conversation with Algernon Barrett,
including his plans for jerk chicken pop-up stores, was to say he was starved and
insist they dine like human beings. “We can still be dedicated, nay, obsessed
investigators and enjoy at least one meal that isn’t delivered in a greasy bag with
a menu number instead of a food name.”
“I don’t know,” said Heat, “I really enjoy my forty-sixes, hold the elevens.”
“They all start tasting like number two to me.”
“Appetizing.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” And he did. Just stepping into Bar Boulud, Daniel
Boulud’s French bistro, across from Lincoln Center, Nikki’s guilt about taking
some downtime melted away. “Besides,” as Rook pointed out, “we can still talk
shop, if we keep our voices down.” They scored a back table at the far end of the
charcuterie, and as she sipped her Sidecar and he his Prohibition Manhattan, Rook
observed, “Here’s how immersed I am. I look at all the saucissons and fromages
behind that bar, and all I can see are Tyler Wynn’s buying habits and how far we
have yet to go.”
“Nice to get away from the office,” she said, rubbing her toe against his leg
under the table.
“Actually, it is.” He set down his glass and lowered his brow. “I miss the ‘us’
part of doing this.”
“We’re working together.”
“Yes and no. It feels more to me like parallel play instead of teamwork. You’re
doing your thing, I’m off doing mine. I miss you. I miss our connection. I want it
to be like old times. And by that, I mean a month ago.”
“Likewise. But welcome to police work. This is what you do when it all piles on—
and why I flared at you earlier today. I’m sorry. However, the beach and the Janet
Evanovich are still out there.”
“And the sex.”
“Count on that.” Both their cell phones were in front of them. She swept them
aside with her forearm and patted the tabletop. “Right here. Wanna?”
“Detective, please,” he said in mock reproach. “You’re a marked woman. Behave.”
They ordered the grilled day boat scallops and a Colorado lamb cavatelli. While they
shared plates, she recapped her visit to Quantum Recovery. After her rundown, he
said, “You know what I can’t shake about this Joe Flynn murder?”
“Uh-oh. I know that tone. Do I hear the revving of the conspiracy engine?”
“You hear an inquisitive journalist with an open mind shining light on inescapable
considerations. Like how Flynn’s murder just created an intersection of the two
cases you’re working. Like how is it that Rainbow happened to find the link between
you and Flynn?”
“Rook, did you seriously just call him Rainbow?”
“Hey, even a serial killer needs a brand. Anyway, my point is that the real
connection may not be from Flynn to you, but from you to whatever this Tyler Wynn
conspiracy is all about.” She smiled dismissively while she chewed a bite of
scallop. “Don’t scoff, I’ve thought this through. Tell me it wouldn’t suit Tyler
Wynn’s purposes to see you dead.”