Deadly Heat

Detective Ochoa said, “We did get word from the ME that traces of chloroform

were found on the front of the victim’s jacket.” Heat whipped her head his

direction. She hadn’t known that. Her mind shot back to a missed call from Lauren

Parry while she was in the thick of it with the Syrian Mission. The medical examiner

’s boyfriend gave Nikki a small nod. Ochoa had her back.

“So…” Nikki picked up her rundown quickly, “it’s possible Mr. Conklin was

either chemically subdued at the crime scene, or else beforehand, and transported.

Until we know COD, we won’t know if he went in the oven alive or dead. If he was

alive, we can only pray he was totally unconscious from the chloroform.” The room

stilled as the cops contemplated Roy Conklin’s last moments.

She resumed. “The other wrinkles are the unburned items on and near the body.” She

recited each as she posted Forensic photos on the board: “The lanyard and ID around

his neck; his folded jacket; and the coil of red string with the dead—unbaked—rat

beside it. At the very least, this bizarre MO suggests kinkiness, revenge, or a

message killing. Let’s not forget, he was a restaurant health inspector, not only

killed in a restaurant—potentially by one of its pieces of equipment. The placement

of the rat plus the preservation of his DHMH badge mean something. Exactly what, we

need to find out.”

Ochoa reported that the unis had come up zero on neighborhood eyewits. And his visit

to Conklin’s apartment revealed no signs of struggle, burglary, or anything. The

building super said Conklin’s wife was away on a business trip, and the super gave

him a cell number. Raley had found a half dozen surveillance cams in the area and

was poised to begin his video surfing. Feller, back from the Department of Health

and Mental Hygiene, had spoken to Conklin’s supervisor, who characterized him as a

model employee, using terms like “motivated” and “dedicated” and calling him

“one of those rare types who lived the job and never went off the clock.”

“Nonetheless, we have to see what else he was about,” said Heat. She assigned

Rhymer to run his bank records to look for irregularities, with an eye toward

bribes, big vacations, or living beyond his means. She put Feller on digging deeper

with his coworkers and to see if there were any complaints about him from the places

he inspected. “Rales, along with your surveillance screening, you and Miguel pair

up and hit the restaurants and bars on Conklin’s roster. Listen to what they say

about habits, vices, enemies—you know the drill. I’ll put in a call to the wife

and try to meet her in the morning.”

Afterward, at her desk, Nikki studied the slip of paper with the name Olivia Conklin

on it and the 917 number under it. She put her hand on the phone, but before she

lifted it off the cradle, she paused. Just ten seconds. To honor the body. Ten

seconds, that’s all.




When she came into her apartment, she found Rook twisting the wire cage off the

bottle of Louis Roederer that First Press had sent him to commemorate his role in

launching their Web site. “The amazing day I’ve had, Nik, what I really want to

do, is saber this thing off. I’ve always wanted to try that. You wouldn’t, by

chance, have a saber, would you?”

As he filled their flutes, Nikki said, “You never told me about your ceremony. I

only saw the glitter on your shoulder.”

“I confess it was fun. Of course, I pretended it was a pain in the ass, but truly?

It was so cool. We were all behind this rope line on the sidewalk right there on

Broadway, across from GMA. Me, the mayor, Green Day, the magazine suits…”

“Wait a minute. Green Day was there?”

“Well, not all of them. Only Billie Joe Armstrong. American Idiot opens this week

at the St. James, and he had his PR haftas to hafta do, also. Anyway, the moment

comes, the editor in chief, Elisabeth Dyssegaard, gives me my intro. The cameras are

flashing and/or rolling, and I press this huge red button.”

“Like for dropping the New Year’s Eve ball?”

“Mm… More like the That Was Easy button. But the whole deal was about me making

the ‘first press’ of the button that posted the first article on FirstPress.com.”