“Not yet,” said Nikki.
“Tell you something. In my career, I’ve had to handle my fair share of PR nightmares. I don’t envy One Police Plaza today. Although, at my fee, I could get over that, if anyone asks.” He laughed at his own joke and shook Heat’s hand. “Listen, sorry I gave you a slam at first,” he said. “It’s my protective instinct. It’s how I got my nickname.” Asshole? thought Nikki. “The Firewall,” he said with no small measure of pride. “But now that we’re on the right foot, let’s keep it that way. Anything you need, call me.”
“I’ll tell you what I would like,” she said.
“Name it.”
“Any communication this stalker had with Toby. Letters, e-mails, anything.”
Ripton nodded. “Our security boys have all that on file. You’ll have copies on your desk by the end of the day.”
“You guys have a lot of security cameras. Do you have a picture of him?”
“A couple, unfortunately. I’ll include them, too.”
He started to go back to the town house, but Rook said, “I’ve been thinking about something, Jess. I’d been working pretty closely with Cassidy on a profile I was doing of her and she never told me about Toby’s door kick.”
“Your point?”
“That was the same afternoon he pulled his hamstring,” Rook made air quotes, “ ‘in the game,’ right?”
“You’re going to have to spell it out for me, Jameson, because I’m not following.” But Ripton’s look of innocence was unconvincing.
“The math I’m doing suggests maybe he injured himself before the game. Or his stunt contributed to it later. That would have an impact on his contract, not to mention a few family-friendly endorsements, if it came out, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t know about any of that. If she chose not to be open with you, that was her choice.” He paused and gave the mirthless smile again. “What I do know is we apologized and compensated her for her damage,” said The Firewall. “And her trouble. You know how this song goes. She got a little money and a few pieces of gossip I happened to be privy to. That’s how we fill the favor bank. Trust me, Cassidy Towne was not unhappy with the results.”
Nikki smiled. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Nikki Heat heard the hissing and turned from her desk. Rook. Across the bull pen, steaming milk. She resumed her reading, and when she finished a no-foam latte arrived blotterside.
“I primed it,” said Rook. “By myself.”
“A skill you will, no doubt, find useful.” She called, “Hinesburg, you there?”
“Yo,” came the voice from the hall. It bugged Nikki that Detective Hinesburg spent so much time away from her desk, hanging out, and she made a mental note to discuss it with her privately.
When the roaming detective entered, Heat said, “I’m looking for that record I asked you to run on Holly Flanders.”
“Look no further. Just came in.” Hinesburg handed over a manila interoffice envelope and snapped her chewing gum. “Oh, and I screened the calls on Cassidy Towne’s answering machine. It produced no leads, although I did learn a few new curse words.”
While Nikki finished unwinding the red string from the cardboard button on the interoffice envelope, she said, “Trade ya,” and handed Detective Hinesburg the sheet she’d just been reading. “This is the incident report from a stalker assault last week.” She made an aside to Rook, “Toby’s story checks out, as advertised.”
“Are we working this?” asked Hinesburg between gum snaps.
Heat nodded. “Central Park Precinct owns it, but the victims live in the One-Nine. Let’s make it a party and join in. Don’t get in a turf contest, but stay close. I’m especially interested in any leads on the stalker.”
“Morris Granville?” Hinesburg said, scanning the sheet.