“Fuck…What happened to her?” Unguarded at last.
Nikki kept it in simplest terms, for now. “Jeanne Capois was found beaten and strangled on the street uptown.” She turned to a blank page, wanting to take advantage of the openness shock always brought. “When Jeanne came to your place, did she mention any threats against her?”
“No,” she said, low and dazed. She gave the same reply when she quizzed her about whether Capois seemed agitated, worried, or talked about being followed. Then Nikki brought out the photographs and sketches, She presented them, one at a time, to Opal, who had slid to a spot on the couch beside her. The young woman shook her head to each one: Fabian Beauvais—no; the four mercs who had attacked Heat a block from Opal’s old apartment in Chelsea—no; the gangstas in the ATM shot—no; Keith Gilbert…Hesitation.
“Opal, do you recognize him?”
“Of course, he’s that politician. Kind of a dickwad, if you ask me.”
“You have no other reason to know of him?”
“No, why should I?”
Heat smelled something here. Rather than jam her, she offered an escape hatch. “Opal, I talk to a lot of people in my job. And I sort of get a sense when someone is not being open with me.”
“Are you accusing me of lying?”
“I’m saying if there is anything you aren’t sharing, for any reason, this is the time to tell me.” She read her interviewee, sitting again with her back against the armrest of the couch with her knees pulled into an upright fetal position. “If you are afraid of someone, I can give you protection.”
Opal Onishi digested that but said, “I answered all your questions, right?”
At the door Heat gave her a business card. “In case you remember anything.” Or, she thought, watching her take it, if you decide to tell me why your hand is shaking.
Rook met Heat on the sidewalk outside the precinct at nine that morning. “What did Wally say?”
“Don’t worry about Wally, just come in.”
“You threaten him? Maybe say I’ll do him dirty in the press?”
“If you must know, I haven’t spoken to him. He’s not in yet. Look, don’t give me that face, this won’t be a problem. Trust me, I know how to handle Wally Irons.”
Good enough for Rook. He held the door for her. But she didn’t budge so he closed it again. “What?”
“Irons isn’t the only one who needs to be dealt with. I have a condition, too.”
“Go on.…”
“You have an article to write, and I will honor my commitment so you can keep riding along. But—I have enough stress without adding to it if you’re going to go around bruised or harboring an attitude.”
“I hear you. And just you watch. I can be a team player. I can even still be your court jester.”
“Good.” she said. “Now, we can hash our personal stuff out when all this gets settled. But, until then, Rook, I need to know we can move forward without any more drama.”
“Are you telling me to behave myself?”
She smiled. “See? We’re back to normal already.” Heat pulled the door open and went in. He shrugged then followed.