Raley nodded. “Positive match to the vic in a family photo taped to his dashboard.” Just the sort of detail that always made Nikki’s stomach take an elevator plunge. “I’ll do a follow-up.”
“Good, keep me up on it.” She gave him a nod and started to her desk.
“So you really think that was a coyote, huh?”
“Looked it to me,” she said. “They do get into the city every now and again. But I have to go with the ME on this one. If it was a coyote, it came after the fact. I can’t think of any coyote that would steal a man’s wallet.”
“Wile E. Coyote would have.” Rook. Smart-assing from the old desk he used to sit at. “Of course, he would have gotten some ACME dynamite first and blown his nose and hair off. And then stood there blinking.” He demonstrated. “I watched a lot of cartoons as a youngster. Part of my unsupervised upbringing.”
Raley looped back to his desk and Heat stepped over to Rook. “I thought you were going to write a statement and go.”
“I wrote it,” he said. “Then I tried to make an espresso out of this machine I gave you guys and it’s NG.”
“We, um, haven’t made a lot of espresso drinks since you left.”
“Clearly.” Rook stood and dragged the machine from the back of the desk toward him. “God, these things are always heavier than they look. See? It’s not plugged in, the water reservoir is down . . . Let me set it up for you.”
“We’re good.”
“OK, fine, but if you decide to use it, don’t just put water in. It’s a pump, Nikki. And like any pump it has to be primed.”
“Fine.”
“Do you want some help with that? There’s a right way and a wrong way.”
“I know how to—” She ended that thread of conversation right there. “Listen, let’s forget all about . . .”
“Steamy deliciousness?”
“. . . coffee, and look at your statement. Deal?”
“Done.” He handed her a single sheet of paper and sat on the edge of the desk, waiting.
She looked up from the page. “This is it?”
“I tried to be concise.”
“This is one paragraph.”
“You’re a busy woman, Nikki Heat.”
“All right, look.” She paused to collect her thoughts before she continued. “I was left with the distinct impression that your weeks—weeks—in the company of our murdered gossip columnist would mean you had more knowledge than this.” She dangled the page at its corner between her thumb and forefinger so that it sold flimsy. The air-conditioning kicked on and it even waved in the breeze, a nice touch.
“I do have more knowledge.”
“But?”
“I’m bound by my journalistic ethics not to compromise my sources.”
“Rook, your source is dead.”
“And that would release me,” he said.
“Then pony up.”
“But there are others I talked to who might not want to be compromised. Or things I saw, or confidences I was given access to that I wouldn’t want to write down and have taken out of context at someone’s expense.”
“Maybe some time to think about this is what you need.”
“Hey, you could put me in the Zoo Lockup.” He chuckled. “That was one of the great take-aways from my ride-along, seeing you break down the newbies in Interrogation with that hollow threat. Beautiful. And effective.”
She assessed him a beat and said, “You’re right. I’m a busy woman.” She took a half step and he blocked her.
“Wait, I have a solution to this little dilemma.” He paused long enough to let her complete a rather unsubtle watch check. “What would you say if I told you we could work this case together?”
“You don’t want to hear what I’d say, Rook.”