Raging Heat

“You mean, like, immigration papers?”


“Alicia, I’m not here to bust you for sleeping with the help or hiring an illegal. I want to know if Mr. Beauvais talked about possessing any documents.”

“No, why would he tell me that?” Again, that defensive oversell.

“So he never talked about documents he had or gave you a package or file to keep?” Delamater shook no. “I can’t hear that.”

“No.”

“Did you ever see him with one? Maybe a file, a small bag, or a thick manila envelope?”

“Again, sorry.” But then the eyes trailed off. Not to the mirror but to the ceiling. Heat smelled something and persisted.

“Maybe it slipped your mind. That happens. Think about it.”

“I don’t need to. No.”

Nikki smiled and said, “OK, good, good.” Which made Alicia relax. Which was just what Heat wanted before she jerked her chain.

“What blew up your romance with Keith Gilbert?” The woman’s features widened and blotches surfaced on her neck. “Come on, Alicia, I know about the restraining order. What happened?”

“That is…that is very personal.”

“And it’s why I am asking you. He wanted you out of his life for some reason. Did he catch you in bed with Fabian?”

“He did not!”

“Then what turned?”

“Do you have to ask this?”

“Did his wife find out you were crossing Beckett’s Neck for more than a cup of sugar?”

“No. I mean, she never knew.”

“Did you push him? Play me, or trade me?”

“I didn’t push anything. It was him. He just fucked me over.” Heat’s pressure had touched a nerve. “It was so exciting, having our little affair when I worked with him. Dangerous and new.…Hot. But it got too tough to manage a relationship in the workplace, you know? It got to be a distraction. Too large to handle.” Nikki didn’t turn but sensed Rook’s slow swivel to her.

“Go on,” said Heat.

“So then he gets the idea I could quit Gilbert Maritime and have a place in the Hamptons near him. Close, but under the radar, if the wife should ever decide to show up. So he bought my house, helped me get my business going, and it was all fun and games—until that bastard cut me off. Asshole scumbag.” Alicia Delamater had started slowly but became hostage to a juggernaut of growing rage. “Know what he called me? A political liability. See? It wasn’t his wife. His goddamned career was his wife. And I couldn’t compete. How do you fucking compete with that? Tell me. Huh?”

The outburst ended in tears, racking sobs with Alicia cupping her face in both hands. Maybe it was the all-nighter in the Bronx that lowered her own guard, but the testimony hit close to home for Nikki, too, who still felt Rook’s unspoken scrutiny. She hoped to hell he would have the grace to keep it unsaid.

They could have held Alicia Delamater on a ticky-tacky charge, something like lying to a police officer. But her attorney would have had her sprung, and what was the point? Heat did the next best thing, which was to tell her she was still considering whether to charge her with hindering an investigation and to remain at the Midtown extended-stay hotel where she had been hiding all this time.

“What’s your take?” asked Rook when she’d left.

“Smoke screens and dodges, that’s my gut. The fact that she’s no longer in bed with Gilbert doesn’t mean she’s not part of this somehow. I want to find out more.”

“Do you really think she’ll open up later?”

Nikki wagged no. “She’ll only have time to come up with better lies. And show up with her attorney. No, I want to find out without relying on Alicia Delamater’s help. I want some search warrants.”

“On what grounds?” Rook’s undercurrent of skepticism annoyed her. But she checked herself. With fatigue and emotions swirling, this was not the time to pick a fight or get offended. So she answered plainly.