Rook asked the bartender to turn up the volume on their TV so they could hear the breaking story, which didn’t go down so well with the Sunday Night Baseball fans, but he and Nikki didn’t care. They stood under the big screen, their wings forgotten and growing cold on the table behind them, as they gaped up at the New York cable news channel.
The reporter stood outside a length of caution tape in a city street and spoke to the camera. Underneath him the graphic read: “Live, from Hell’s Kitchen.” Pressing the earpiece to his ear, he nodded, picking up his cue from the anchor. “Thanks, Miranda. Yes, a major break in a case that has been the talk of New York this week, ever since the frozen corpse of an Inwood woman, the victim of a fatal stabbing, was found inside a suitcase on a food delivery truck.” He turned and gestured behind him, and the camera slowly zoomed to show the front entrance of a tan brick apartment building, where an NYPD uniform stood guard. “You can see it’s quiet here now on West Fifty-fourth Street, but that’s the doorway of the building where, minutes ago, officers and detectives of the NYPD stormed the apartment of an alleged killer.”
Next came recorded footage of Captain Irons standing with his gut to the crime scene tape, in his glory, with his name plastered on the screen and a sea of microphones pointing at him. “Our suspect’s name is Hank Norman Spooner, age forty-two, a self-employed apartment sitter. Mr. Spooner was apprehended without incident by myself and Detective Sharon Hinesburg from my precinct, the Twentieth, as well as officers assisting from Midtown North.”
Rook said, “This gets better every minute.” Heat didn’t respond; she just stood transfixed as Irons answered one of the questions shouted at him from the press frenzy.
“The suspect came under our scrutiny this weekend after one of my team received an anonymous phone call expressing regret for the murder of Nicole Bernardin last week, as well as for the death of another victim, Cynthia Trope Heat, in 1999.” Nikki flashed back on Roach’s account of the giddy Saturday night appearance of Irons and Hinesburg listening to an audio recording behind closed doors. Reporters shouted more questions all at once. “That’s right,” answered the captain, “the caller implicated himself in both murders and said he couldn’t live with it anymore. His call contained sufficient detail about both crimes that we felt assured he was our man and, upon tracing him to this address, made tonight’s arrest. He is currently in custody up in the Twentieth Precinct, and is in the process of making a formal confession. May I say that the citizens of New York City will sleep better tonight, knowing we have taken this individual off the streets, and I am proud to have led the team that brought this case to a safe and swift conclusion. Thank you.”
Heat’s cell phone rang. It was Ochoa. “What about a heads-up?” she snapped. Not even a hello.
“Hey, I’m just hearing about it myself. Captain iced us all out. Except for Hinesburg, nobody had a clue. I’m calling you first off to make sure you knew. I guess you did.”
“Oh, Miguel, I’m sorry I flared.”
“No sweat. It blows, we all get it. I’m heading in now to see what’s what and do as much damage control as I can. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Do,” she said and hung up. Nikki threw down enough cash to cover the check and tip and started for the door. Rook was already holding it for her.
On the walk back to his loft, he said, “I wonder how many items on the Kama Sutra menu Big Wally scored by mentioning Hinesburg on TV.”
“Save it, Rook.”
“Hey, I’m pissed, too. This is how I cope.”
“Then cope with your inside words. I’m not up for conversation now.” But then after three strides, she said, “He’s screwing the whole thing up. No, worse than that. What scares the hell out of me is that he’s just getting started screwing it up. I’m out of there less than a week, and he’s not only got the wrong guy but he’s potentially doing irreparable harm to these cases.”
“Then stop him.”
“How?”
They waited at the crosswalk, and he stepped to face her eye to eye. “You know how.”