When Nikki came home to her apartment and opened her front door, it banged into something after a few inches and stopped. “Oof,” said Rook on the other side. “Hang on a sec.” Then he pulled it open wide. He was holding a screwdriver and standing beside a stepstool.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I have a surprise for you.” He pointed above the door, to where he had mounted a wireless lipstick camera. “Huh? What do you think?”
“Rook, a NannyCam?”
“Correction: NikkiCam. After the fingerprint team left, I thought you needed some extra security, so I went over to the spy store on Christopher Street. I could spend hours in there. Mainly because I can see myself on every monitor.” He struck a pose in the hall mirror. “I really am ruggedly handsome, aren’t I?”
She stepped past him and looked up at the camera. “Not a bad installation.”
“Oo, this is starting to sound like one of those porn videos where I’m the casual laborer.” Rook smiled. “As you know, nothing casual about how I work.”
“No, quite diligent. You’re on my list for employee of the month.” She kissed him and went to the counter to drop the stack of mail she had brought up along with the evening newspaper.
“What’s your pref for dinner? Take out or go out?” When she didn’t answer, he turned. Nikki’s face had gone pale. “What?” Rook got up and stood beside her at the counter where she had unfolded the front page of the New York Ledger. When he saw the headline, he looked at Nikki but didn’t dare interrupt her. Heat was too engrossed, too stunned by what she was reading.
TEN
INFERNAL AFFAIRS
Suicide Cop, Infighting Tarnish 20th
Insider Exclusive
By Tam Svejda, Senior METRO Reporter
Just how bad can it get for the NYPD’s 20th Precinct? Yesterday this paper reported bickering and disarray within the station’s Homicide Squad over what has been characterized as “a rudderless, wheel-spinning” probe into the shocking sex dungeon strangulation of a local priest. First it was the good father, now it seems it’s his investigation that’s choking.
Frustrated detectives were openly questioning the leadership of longtime precinct commander, Captain Charles Montrose. According to those familiar with the situation, the captain had recently become more of a part-time visitor than a full-time commander at his Upper West Side cop shop, spending increasingly more hours outside his office, and closing himself off from staff the few hours he was present.
Friction . . . and Heat
Sources agreeing to speak on condition of anonymity confirm the captain’s absences were only one element that failed to get the investigation into Father Gerry Graf’s murder out of the starting blocks. Montrose’s disputed choices hamstrung detectives (led by magazine cover-cop Nikki Heat, whose dazzling rate of case clearance made her a rising star among hero-hungry commishes downtown). For instance, he banned Detective Heat and her ace squad from following promising leads, instead ordering them to pursue a grand tour of Dungeon Alley, even though it was a road that continually proved colorful yet fruitless.
Members of the 20th also recently witnessed an in-house throw down between Heat and Capt. Montrose over the stalled case, complete with desk pounding and finger pointing. “It was NYPD black and blue,” said one insider who asked not to be identified.
Bad To Worse
The latest installment in this melodrama was written in blood. Yesterday police responded to a gunshot victim in a parked car. The man was none other than Captain Charles Montrose. Pronounced dead at the scene, he was killed by a single bullet wound to the brain from his own gun. The incident occurred at the curb of Our Lady of the Innocents—poetically, ironically, but not so coincidentally—the very parish of the murdered priest.