“But here’s what I don’t get,” she said. “Say it were him. Why steal the body?” With both wrists brushing his chest, Nikki was close enough to breathe in the scent of his cologne, subtle and clean. She looked up from the knot and met his eyes, held them briefly and then stepped away. “Looks like you’re going to need scissors.”
Heat called in from the front steps of the Milmar to see if anything had turned up about her missing victim. Nothing. While she was on, Nikki ordered a check on a Holly Flanders. She also retrieved a voice mail from Roach and started walking to the car. “Let’s take a ride. The boys have turned something for us.”
On the drive across the park, Rook asked her, “OK, this is bugging me. How is it you know about pony play?”
“Does that excite you, Rook?”
“In a happy-scared way, yes. And no. Leaning to yes.” He frowned. “You know?”
“Oh, trust me, I know. I know all about happy and scared.” She smiled a wicked smile but kept her eyes on the taxi in front of her. “Just like I know my lollycrops from my posture collars.” She didn’t have to look to know he was staring at her to see if she meant it.
Traffic Control had to move sawhorses to let them onto West 78th. The number of news vans had doubled, with every station staking out turf for the live shots that would be coming starting on the 4 P.M. casts, still hours away. It gave Nikki’s stomach a twist that the lead wouldn’t be the murder but the theft of the body. They met up with Raley and Ochoa in the subbasement of Cassidy Towne’s brownstone, in the office-workshop of her building superintendant.
They introduced him to Nikki, and as Rook appeared in the door, he smiled. “Hey, Mr. Rook.”
“JJ, hi. Sorry about what happened.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be a big cleanup,” said the super.
“And, also. You know.”
“Ms. Towne, right. Horrible.”
Nikki addressed her detectives. “You have something for me?”
“First of all,” said Raley, “no private trash pickup.”
“That’s like the worst joke,” chimed in JJ. “Owner of this building isn’t going to spring for that. Can’t even get budget for paint. Or to get a new rolling bucket, look at the wheel off that thing. Pitiful.”
“So you’re still on the trash,” she said, trying to keep things on course. “You said first. What’s the second?”
Ochoa picked it up. “JJ says that he recently had to change the locks on Cassidy Towne’s apartment.”
That got her interest. She cast a glance at Rook.
“That’s right. It was a couple of days ago,” said Rook.
The super corrected him. “No, that was the second time. Had to do it twice.”
“You changed them twice?” said Heat. “Why was that, JJ?”
“I have locksmith training, so I was able to do it myself on the side for her. You know, off the books. Works out good for the both, you understand? Saves her a little coin, puts a little jingle in my pocket. It’s all good.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Nikki. JJ seemed like a nice guy but a talker. To interview talkers, she had learned, you needed to keep things concrete, move in steps. “Tell me about the first time you changed the locks. When was that?”
“Just two weeks ago. Day before my man here started.” JJ indicated Rook.
“Why? Did she lose her key or something?”
“People are always losing things, aren’t they? Heard on talk radio yesterday about cell phones. You know where most people lose their cell phones?”
“Bathrooms?” asked Rook.
“No more calls, please.” He extended a hand and gave Rook a shake.
“JJ?” said Heat, opening her notebook to signal a sense of importance. “Why did Cassidy want you to change her locks two weeks ago?”
“Because she said she felt like someone had been coming into her apartment. Lady wasn’t sure, but she said things were just off in there. Little things moved around where she didn’t put them, stuff like that. Said it creeped her out. I thought, maybe she’s just paranoid, but, hey, it’s money in my pocket, so I rekeyed them for her.”