Raley gave her the report that there had been a sighting overnight of a pickup truck matching the description of Nathan Levy’s 450 in the parking lot of the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia. Port Authority PD had run a check, and it came up registered to a caterer from Edison, New Jersey. Both George Gallatin and her stolen car were still unaccounted for, with the APB still being repeated on her scanners.
Detective Rhymer confirmed Wilton Backhouse’s whereabouts the previous day, which didn’t surprise her. “The professor indeed was scheduled for, and personally conducted, a lab at Hudson University at the time he said on the subject—get this: ‘Velocity, Spin, Frictional Coefficient, and Impact Angle.’” He looked up from his notes. “Sounds like a porn title.”
“Maybe in Virginia,” Heat said with a grin.
If it had been anyone other than Joseph Barsotti, a career scumbag, Heat would have set up a more informal interview in the relatively relaxed setting of the conference room. But once on the shit list, it’s a complicated process getting off of it. So, after a pat-down to make sure he knew this wasn’t a social visit, she and Rook sat across from him in one of the interrogation rooms.
Her plan was to press Barsotti as the prime suspect in the killing of Lon King. Although that didn’t seem likely to Heat, given the investment Fat Tommy had in keeping his debtor alive, the enforcer didn’t know that, and would be more pliable if he was trying to beat a homicide rap. So that is how Nikki cut the ribbon on the interrogation, coming at him hard with questions about his firearms and permits, his arrest jacket for violent offenses, and repeatedly using phrases like, “the last time you saw Lon King alive…” Without the protection of his mob code of silence, Barsotti grew fidgety and his eyes darted around. Heat liked that. And once she had him in a more vulnerable place, she zeroed in on what she really wanted to know.
“If you expect me to believe you didn’t kill Lon King, you’d better give me something I can get my teeth into. Something real. Otherwise, it’s you, Joe.” Heat knew Barsotti wasn’t the killer, but making him worry that he might take the fall for a murder was great leverage to get him to talk about things she needed out of him—and she was going to use it.
“What can I tell you other than I didn’t do the guy?” he whined. Nikki always paid attention to hands. Barsotti’s were large, be-ringed, and had empurpled knuckles. She pictured him giving the beat-down to that exotic dancer and was glad she’d held a hard line with him.
“You’ve got to give me everything you saw. How long were you dogging King?”
“I dunno, a few days?”
Heat slapped a hand down, making him jump. “You dunno?”
Rook tilted his head toward the man and gave him a sympathetic face. “Trust me, pal. If I were you, I’d start knowing.”
“A week. Not every single day. Six. Six days.” He looked at Rook and got a reassuring wink in return.
Nikki slid a blank yellow pad and a ballpoint to him. “Write ’em down. Dates, times, places. Soon as we’re done.” Barsotti nodded. “I also want to know about any unusual activity around King.”
“He was a shrink. Everything was unusual.”
She heard a soft “Ahem” for her benefit from Rook, but kept her gaze on Barsotti. “You’re not helping me, which means you are definitely not helping yourself. Give me specifics. You were pretty much stalking him, right?”
“I wouldn’t use that word…” He caught Rook’s cautioning head wag. “Yes. I watched him. But only so I could pick my spot to persuade him to repay his debt.”
“Did you notice anyone else watching him?”
He paused. “Yeah.”
“You’d better not be saying this to please me, because if you’re lying, I’ll know. It won’t be good.” Heat had him emotionally where she needed him and slid a photo from under the cover of her file. “Ever see this man?”
“Oh him, fuck yeah. He’s off the chain.” He handed the picture of Timothy Maloney back across the table like he might catch something from it.
“Tell me.”
“I made—let’s call it an office visit—to provide incentive to Lon King about his gambling debt. When I got there, a big argument was going on in the waiting room. That guy was reaming out King while everyone else freaked.