There was laughter—the first Nikki had heard in that squad in a long time. She let it play out and then said, “In deference to Mrs. Borelli, we’ll let it drop there.” Compassion ruled. Nikki couldn’t see increasing the old woman’s mortification.
There was a stirring in the back of the room. Heads turned as a doughy-looking man in a white shirt with two gold bars entered the bull pen. “Oh,” he said, “I see I’ve interrupted.”
Heat took a half step toward him. “No problem, Captain, may I help you?”
He came up to join Nikki at the Murder Board and addressed the squad. “Probably best that you’re all in one place for this. I’m Captain Irons. I’ve been assigned as the interim commander of this precinct. My mandate is to get things on an even keel here while the decision is made as to who should be the permanent replacement for Captain Montrose.” He paused, and Nikki saw numerous eyes go to her, but she remained stoic and gave the temporary man her attention. “Now, even though I come from Administration, and it’s been a few years since I was out here in the field, and I know I can’t replace your old cap, I’ll do my best to make this workable for everyone. Fair enough?” The room chorused a “fair enough” back to him. Even though it was limp, he said, “Thank you for that.” He turned to Nikki. “Detective Heat? A moment?”
* * *
They met in Montrose’s glass office and stood because it was still bare following the instant purge by Internal Affairs. “Guess I’ll have to get some furniture, won’t I?” He sat against the lip of the counter that housed the heat register, and Nikki noticed how his soft belly forced his shirt to spread between the buttons. “I know your rep. You’re a heck of a detective.”
“Thank you,” she said, “I do my best.”
“Here’s the deal. I have a shot here at turning things around, direction-wise.” Irons gave her a look of significance as she wondered how else one turned things around except direction-wise. “Now, I know you are involved in some holdover cases.”
Heat put a mildly corrective spin on it. “Actually, I have an active case. In fact, the meeting you . . . ah, joined . . . was about the case I’m working now. The dead priest?”
“That’s all fine, but that goes back burner. Effective now. I have set a personal goal to show what I can do here. And, for me, that means turning to a fresh page and running hard with cases that start on my watch. Day one. Today.”
“Excuse me, Captain Irons, but I was attacked in Central Park by five armed men, three of whom are still out there, and I believe it was related to the Graf murder.”
“You believe? You mean like an assumption? A theory?”
“Yes, I know it’s not the same as proof,” she said, already feeling herself on quicksand. “I’m working it hard now, sir. And since we got off to a slow start already, I don’t believe this is the time to put it on the back burner.”
“I understand your personal interest.” It sounded dismissive because it was. He crossed his arms and studied his shoe shine, then said, “The guy you killed, he had gang connections on his sheet, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ve been reading all the departmental bulletins about gang initiations, some of which are to target police officers. I think I can work this out for both of us by turning this over to the gang task force. If you’re a target, you can step aside from that case, be safe, and I get my investigative priorities met.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Now. Moving forward. I hear some patrol officers discovered a body in one of the pedestrian tunnels in Riverside Park about a half hour ago. Homeless guy. But if there’s foul play, I want to be all over that. Top priority.”
Detective Heat pondered a moment and smiled. “Then you want my best investigator on this. Sharon Hinesburg.”
“Can you spare her?”
“I’ll manage, sir.”
He seemed happy. Nikki would be happier when she replaced him.
* * *