He nodded, affirming. “The buzz saw herself.”
She immediately started calculating how the apparent murder of the New York Ledger’s powerful icon, whose “Buzz Rush” column was the ritual first read for most New Yorkers, was going to ratchet up the stakes on this case. As Raley and Ochoa returned and deemed the apartment clear, she said, “Ochoa, better reach out to the MEs. Give them a courtesy heads-up that we have a high-profiler waiting for them. Raley, you call Captain Montrose so he knows we’re working Cassidy Towne from the Ledger and he doesn’t get blindsided. And see if he can put a hustle on CSU and also get some extra uniforms here, like, now.” The detective could already project that the quiet, golden block she had enjoyed a few minutes ago would soon be transformed into a media street fair.
As soon as Roach left the kitchen again, Rook stood and took a step toward Nikki. “Seriously. I’ve missed you.”
If his step closer was meant as body English, she had some nonverbal cues of her own. Detective Heat turned her back to him, got out her reporter’s-cut notebook and a pen, and put her face to a new page. But she knew herself well enough to know the chill message she wanted to send was as much to herself as to him. “What time did you discover the body?”
“About six-thirty. Listen, Nikki . . .”
“How close to six-thirty? Do you have a more accurate idea of the time?”
“I got here exactly at six-thirty. Did you get any of my e-mails?”
“Got here, as in ‘in the room to discover her,’ or got here, as in ‘outside’?”
“Outside.”
“And how did you get in?”
“The door was open. Just as you found it.”
“So you walked right in?”
“No. I knocked. Then called out. I saw the mess up the hall and went in to see if she was all right. I thought maybe a burglar had been here.”
“Did you ever think someone else could have been in here?”
“It was quiet. So I went in.”
“That was brave.”
“I have my moments, you may recall.”
Nikki looked as if she was focused on a notation but really she was replaying the night in the hallway of the Guilford last summer when Noah Paxton used Rook as a human shield, and how, even though he had a gun in his back, he still put a body slam on Paxton that gave Heat a clean shot. She looked up and said, “Where was she when you found her?”
“Right where she is now.”
“You didn’t move her in any way?”
“No.”
“Did you touch her?”
“No.”
“How did you know she was dead?”
“I . . .” He hesitated and continued. “I knew.”
“How did you know she was dead?”
“I . . . I clapped.”
Nikki couldn’t help herself. The laugh shot out of her with a mind all its own. She was angry at herself for it, but the thing about a laugh like that was you couldn’t take it back. You could only work to suppress the next one. “You . . . you clapped?”
“Uh huh. Loud, you know . . . to see. Hey, don’t laugh, maybe she was asleep, or drunk, I didn’t know.” He waited while Heat composed herself. And then a chuckle of his own fought its way out. “It wasn’t like applause. Just . . .”
“A clap.” She watched the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and she started to thaw in a way she didn’t like, so she threw the switch. “How did you know the victim?” she said to her notepad.
“I’ve been working with her the past few weeks.”
“You’re becoming a gossip columnist now?”
“Oh, hell, no. I sold First Press on the idea of doing my next piece for them on Cassidy Towne. Not so much the titillating gossip thing but profiling a powerful woman in a historically male-dominated business, our love-hate relationship with secrets, you get the idea. Anyway, I’ve been shadowing Cassidy for the past few weeks.”