Alicia Delamater didn’t share Detective Heat’s desire for a nice chat. She sat with her hands folded on the interrogation table doing what most people did in that room—trying at first not to look in the mirror, but then surrendering to glimpses, which became glances, which became lingering self-appraisals. To Nikki, that was the magic of the magic mirror: the spirit-crushing view of the guest reflected back in one of life’s low moments.
But it still didn’t open her up. This woman’s relationship with Keith Gilbert was Heat’s best chance yet to get inside to find out what was going on with him, with Fabian Beauvais, with Conscience Point, and more. It presented a tricky dynamic. Alicia was not a suspect or even charged with a crime. But she was involved somehow, or she wouldn’t have gone underground. For now, Nikki just wanted knowledge. Any scrap to run with and gain some new traction. She had invited Rook into the interview because that day in her house at Beckett’s Neck, Delamater seemed attracted to him. That allure had, unfortunately, not translated into any advantage. And so the three of them sat. One of them making mirror checks but not speaking.
And then Rook spoke—going back to one of the first interrogations he and Nikki had ever done together—to play the perfect card. “So what now, Detective? Time for the Zoo Lockup?”
Both women’s heads whipped to him: Alicia’s in nervous disquiet; Nikki’s in stunned admiration. He didn’t wink, didn’t have to. Nikki took the baton handoff without missing a step. “Well, I didn’t want to resort to that, but maybe it’s been long enough.”
“What’s the Zoo Lockup?” If she saw her reflection now, Nikki thought, she’d melt.
Rook started to rise from his chair. “Want me to call down and tell the sarge we’ve got another live one for the cage?”
“What are you talking about?” Alicia’s mouth had gone dry. “What about cages?”
“Actually, it’s one cage,” said Rook. “With an assortment of colorful types waiting for processing.”
“Colorful…?”
“They don’t call it the Zoo for nothing,” said Rook ominously.
The picture that painted freaked the woman out. Of course she had no way of knowing there was no such thing as a Zoo Lockup, and that it was a total bluff created years ago by Heat, fabricated to loosen the tongues of novices to the criminal system. “You can’t do that. Can you do that? What if I want my lawyer?”
Nikki said, “Sure. You can wait for him there.”
“In the Zoo Lockup,” said Rook.
“But it’s Sunday. It could take him hours.…Maybe he evacuated.”
“Alternatively, we could just talk,” said Heat.
Alicia didn’t need to think too long. “Fine.”
Rook sat. Heat picked up her pen.
“Let’s start with why you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you. About what?”
“You said Fabian Beauvais hurt himself with the hedge clippers.”
“That’s what he told me.”
“He’d been shot.”
“Then he’s the one who lied.” Delamater’s answers came a little to defensively for Nikki’s taste. Was she lying again, or was she just scared of the Zoo? She came at her from another angle.
“Have you ever seen Keith Gilbert with a gun?”
“No.”
“What about the night of the intruder? The Southampton police said you were there when they arrived and that Gilbert had a handgun.”
“Oh, wait, yeah. That. But Keith isn’t a gun guy. I thought that’s what you meant. He was just trying to protect me.”
Rook said more than asked, “From a drunken crime novelist?”
“We didn’t know it was him.”
“What’s a mystery writer gonna do?” said Rook. “Tease you with a scary cliff-hanger?”
Heat put a hand on the table between them. “Rook, I’ve got this.” Actually, she was glad for the sidetrack. It gave her what she wanted, which was a chance to hairpin turn back to the Haitian in hopes of shifting her off-balance. “During his time working on your property, did you and Fabian Beauvais have a good relationship?”
“Sure. We got along fine.” Then she reconsidered. “‘…Relationship?’ You mean like sleeping together?” Heat’s turn not to reply. The woman kept going. “No, never. Not like that. But we were friendly. Ish.”
“Did he ever open up to you about having any papers?”