He had been discreet about his note-taking since his return to the Two-Oh. Rook had an unexpected exclusive that was all going into his Cassidy Towne article, but in deference to Nikki’s sensitivity and the fish eyes he had been getting from some of the squad, his MO had been to memorize key words or to scrawl them on scraps of paper or, if something required more jotting than he felt he could sneak, to make an unnecessary trip or two to the men’s room. But that day, Rook surrendered to the volume of detail coming at him and began to take written notes in the open. If anybody noticed, he or she didn’t seem to care. They were all taking notes, too.
The spine of his black Moleskine answered with a comforting crack as he bent it back so the fresh page would lie flat on his thigh. He heard the throaty tone in Nikki’s voice when she said a simple good afternoon to the packed room, and the journalist wrote on the top line in block letters, “Game Changer.”
Detective Heat confirmed it with her opening remarks. “I just briefed Captain Montrose to let him know what we all suspect from today’s developments. Although the autopsy is pending and CSU is still on the scene of this afternoon’s homicide, I have reason to believe we are now dealing with a professional killer.” Somebody cleared a throat, but that was the only sound in the room. “What began as a search for a revenge killer, perhaps someone who hired our John Doe Texan to murder Cassidy Towne, it’s clear this has ratcheted up to where we have someone who is trying to cover something up and has a pro contractor on the job as a sort of silencer.
“We already had allocated extra resources on this case because of the high-profile nature of the first victim, but due to this change in scope, the Cap has requested, and has received from 1PP, the clearance to bring in extra manpower and lab resources to find our killer.” Nikki called on one of the Burglary plainclothes, who had a finger raised. “Rhymer?”
“What do we have on the new vic?”
“Still developing, but here’s the rundown I do have.” Nikki didn’t need notes; she had it all in her head and wrote each item on the new, smaller whiteboard that had been brought in and set up beside Cassidy Towne’s. “Prelim TOD is same night as our gossip girl. OCME will give us a time window soon and I’ll forward to you. Derek Snow was an African-American male, twenty-seven, according to DMV. No arrests, except for a couple of speeding tickets. Lived alone in a one-bedroom, Lower East, steady tenant, paid his rent, no problems, neighbors loved him. Stable employment, worked since ’07 as a concierge at the Dragonfly House in SoHo. If you aren’t familiar, it’s a five-star boutique hotel, quiet and discreet, attracts lots of creatives, mostly Euros but Hollywood-friendly, also.”
She waited for them to make their notes before she continued. “Rhymer, I’d like you and Roach to head down to his apartment to dig a little deeper with the neighbors, see if one didn’t love him. Or if anybody has new thoughts on something they saw or heard.
“I don’t know if he liked boys or girls, but see if he had any relationships worth looking at. Check the neighborhood, too. It’s one of those blocks where everybody knows your name, so hit the diners and the bodegas.”
Ochoa, who was sitting beside Rhymer, a clean-cut Carolina transplant, said, “In that neighborhood you can get yourself a nice tat while you’re down there, too, Opie. ‘Love’ and ‘Hate’ on your knuckles, maybe?”
Nikki seemed glad for Ochoa’s tension breaker, and when the laughter settled, she said, “CSU is sweeping his place with a special eye toward any hard connection to Towne or Miss Gray. I’ll let you know. And let’s not forget our common COD by stabbing and the apparently identical restraints with the duct tape. I’m heading over to OCME now to see the results of Snow’s autopsy, but aside from the new arrival of other possible suspects, we are still liking our John Doe Texan, so show his sketch and the picture of Soleil Gray in your files when you make your rounds.