“Means nothing. ‘Connections.’ ” Miksit spat the word. “Come on, Detective.”
Nikki was used to the woman’s confrontational style, but she had seen it while sitting behind her in a courtroom as an ally, not across the table on the receiving end. Heat had to wrestle to keep this her meeting, and she did so by continuing on her road in spite of the push-back. “And one of those victims, Cassidy Towne, we have just learned, was writing a book about the death of Miss Gray’s fiancé.”
“Oh, please, this is why you brought us in here?”
Soleil cleared her throat and swallowed hard. Helen Miksit made great theater placing a comforting hand on her forearm. “Is it really necessary to do this? This subject is still an open wound for her.”
Nikki spoke quietly. “Soleil, there’s little doubt Cassidy Towne was murdered to stop the publication of her book about the circumstances surrounding Reed Wakefield’s death.” She paused to choose her words carefully, unsure whether the singer was a conspirator or a victim herself. “If you are involved or know about this in any way, this is the time to speak up. The time to hide is over.”
Helen Miksit said, “As I told you at the outset, you can have your meeting. It doesn’t mean she’s going to participate other than to be here.”
Nikki leaned toward Soleil. “Is that how you feel? There’s nothing you want to say about this?” The singer pondered, looked like she was about to speak, but in the end, she looked at her attorney, shook her head, and went back to chewing at the tiny flap of skin on her knuckle.
“There you have it, Detective Heat. I assume we’re finished now?”
Heat gave one last look to Soleil, hoping to bridge the chasm, but she wouldn’t give Nikki her eyes. “We’re done. For now.”
“For now? Oh, no. This ends here. If you want to get yourself in boldface on ‘Page Six,’ you’re going to do it harassing someone else.” Miksit stood. “A word of caution? You may find that when the PR machine reverses direction, it isn’t always so friendly.”
Heat led them out, and as she watched them walk away through the lobby, she felt even more certain that Soleil was into this. She just wasn’t sure how.
Nikki returned to the bull pen, where Rook was already at his computer reading the first pages of the PDF of Cassidy’s book, which had arrived during the interrogation. She found Detective Hinesburg sitting in Heat’s own chair, using Heat’s desk, and jotting on Heat’s notepad with one of the pens from her pencil cup. “Make yourself comfortable, Sharon.” Nikki was still feeling tight from her meeting with Soleil and The Bulldog, and venting a little steam at Hinesburg gave her some relief. She could feel guilty about it later.
“Hey, funny,” said the detective, oblivious. Another irritating quality, but at least it would save Nikki an apology. “I was just leaving you a note. I checked on the PI Elizabeth Essex used to snoop on her errant ex-hubby. Local Staten Island guy her lawyer uses. Not our Texan.”
Heat wasn’t surprised by the news, but at least that loose thread ended there. “What about Rance Wolf’s other clients, where are we with that?”
“Spoke to the CEO of Hard Line Security in Vegas. He’s cooperating and putting together a list for me. Both corporate and individual clients. I also asked him about Tex’s freelances. He said they maintain notes on any freelance jobs their people take on since their company policy is that agents have to disclose to avoid conflict of interest. He’ll share that, too. I’ll let you know the minute I get it all.”
Detail and initiative like that were why Hinesburg was such a great cop. And why Nikki put up with the petty annoyances. “Good work. And, Sharon, sorry if I sounded a little irritable.”