"Subject's father continued to live/work in Amarillo as a veterinarian. Subject-Rance worked in practice, trained in, and was accredited for surgical assists." Nikki pictured the array of sharp instruments on Rook's counter. She raised her head to look at the whiteboard and the autopsy photos of Cassidy Towne's perforated ear canal. She turned back to read on.
"No connections made at time, but new data search based on Det. Heat info/subj. MO with pick-tools and duct tape shows hits on unsolved animal mutilations in Amarillo vicinity corresponding to subj.'s residence there.
"Subj. enlisted US Army, completing two tours Ft. Lewis/Tacoma, WA, as military police. MP records provided first hit on the fingerprint provided by NYPD-Det. Insp. Heat. Data delayed on link to mutilations (human amp; animal) in vicinity during service hitch due to duplicate suspect MOs in area-will update." Nikki could imagine what a sadist with a badge could do and expected some hits.
"Following hon. discharge, subj. took security job at Native Am. casino near Olympia, WA, for one year, leading to sim. detail at casino in Reno, NV (6 months), then moved to Las Vegas (4 yrs) working high-end VIP security for major casino [all casino names and employer info listed at end of this memo]. Subj. then recruited as contractor/agent for Hard Line Security of Henderson, NV (see Licensing Commission ID photo, above). Subj. rapidly promoted on basis of personal protection skills and comity with celebrity and VIP clients. OF NOTE: Subj. detained in knife assault upon threat suspect to visiting client Italian communications tycoon. Incident resulted in subj.'s arrest. Charges dropped due to lack of witnesses willing to testify. Alleged weapon was knuckle knife, described in LV police report (attached) but never recovered.
"Immediately following disposition of assault case, subj. left US to freelance in Europe. Current information ends there. Will maintain database search and contact Interpol. Will apprise as new info avail."
Rook finished reading a full minute after Heat did because he wasn't as adept at the police jargon and abbreviations as the detective-but he certainly understood the significance. "This guy made his career working with celebrities and VIP clients. Someone is paying him to cover something up."
"No matter what it takes," Nikki said. Heat immediately made copies of the dispatch and fast-tracked their circulation both in the squad and in the usual places out in the field, including ERs and other medical facilities, like the ones Roach had canvassed the morning after the Texan's escape. She also assigned detectives to recontact previously interviewed witnesses to see if they recognized him now that they had a picture, not just a sketch.
Nikki also spent some time back at the murder board, studying all the names on it. Rook came up behind her and voiced her thoughts. "Time line isn't your friend so much now, is it?"
"No," she said. "Case has been bending the other way for the last thirty-six hours, but now it's pointing in a different direction. With a pro killer on this level we're off alibis and totally onto motives." She tacked up the color photo of Rance Eugene Wolf beside the sketch and stepped away from the whiteboard. "Saddle up. I want to revisit some of these myself," she told Rook.
"You mean the dog walker I heard was such a fan, Miss Heat?"
"No, definitely not that one." And on the way out, she paused at the door and said in a British accent, "The adulation. Sometimes it bores me so."
Cassidy Towne's nosy neighbor was easy to find. Mr. Galway was at his usual post on West 78th, in front of his town house grinding his teeth at the rising wall of uncollected garbage. "Can't you police do something?" he said to Nikki. "This strike is threatening the health and safety of the citizens of this city. Can't you arrest someone?"
"Who?" asked Rook. "The union or the mayor?"
"Both," he snapped. "And you can go in the clink with them for having such a smart mouth."
The old fossil said he never saw the guy in the picture, but asked to keep it in case he showed up again. Back in the car, Rook suggested that Rance Eugene Wolf would have done them all a favor if he had just gone to the wrong address, which earned an arm swat from Nikki.
Chester Ludlow said he had never seen Wolf before, either. Ensconced at his usual corner in the Milmar Club, he didn't even seem to want to touch the photo, let alone keep it. The duration of his observation of the picture barely qualified as a glance.
Heat said, "I think you should take another, more careful look, Mr. Ludlow."
"You know, I preferred when people still called me 'Congressman' Ludlow. With that form of address, they very seldom told me what I could and couldn't do."
"Or, apparently, who," said Rook.
Ludlow narrowed his eyes at him and then smiled thinly. "I see you still roam Manhattan without neckwear."
"Maybe I like borrowed ties. Maybe I like the way they smell."
"I'm not ordering you to do anything, sir." Nikki paused to let him enjoy her white lie of respect. "You did say you retained a private security firm to gather information on Cassidy Towne. Well, this man worked for such a firm, and I would like to know if you ever saw him."
The disgraced politician sighed and took a longer look at Wolf's ID shot. "The answer's the same."
"Have you ever heard the name Rance Wolf?"
"No."
"Maybe he had another name?" she asked. "Talked with a Texas drawl, soft-spoken?"
"No. Y'all."
Nikki took back the photo he was holding out to her. "Did you employ a firm called Hard Line Security for your inquiry?"
He smiled. "With all due respect, Detective, they don't sound expensive enough to be a firm I would hire." Since it was past noon and they were on the East Side, Rook said lunch was on him at E.A.T. up near 80th and Madison. After she ordered her spinach and chevre salad and he put in for a meat loaf sandwich, Nikki said, "So you're still not going to talk about it?"
He feigned innocence. "Still not going to talk about what?"
She mocked him: "What? What?" Her iced tea arrived and she peeled the straw wrapper thoughtfully. "Come on, seriously, it's me. You can tell me."
"I'll tell you what… This table is wobbly." He grabbed a sugar packet and ducked under the table, then came up seconds later, testing the adjustment. "Better?"
"Now I understand why you were so hesitant about going with me to the publisher this morning." He shrugged, so she pressed. "Come on. I promise not to judge. Have you seriously been trying to break in as a romance fiction writer?"
"Trying to break in?" He cocked his head and grinned. "Trying? Lady, I am in. I am so in."
"OK… how are you in? I've never seen one of your books. I've even Googled your name."
"For shame," he said. "OK, here's the deal. It's not uncommon for magazine writers to supplement their income. Some teach, some rob banks, some do a little ghostwriting here and there. I do mine there."
"At Ardor Books?"
"Yes."
"You write bodice rippers?"
"Romance fiction, please. You might say I make some pretty handy side money as one of their authors."
"I know 'romance fiction' a little bit. What name do you use? Are you Rex Monteeth, Victor Blessing?" She paused and pointed at him. "You're not Andre Falcon, are you?"
Rook leaned forward and beckoned her closer. After a glance side to side at the other tables, he whispered, "Victoria St. Clair."
Nikki shrieked a laugh, causing every head in the place to turn. "Oh, my God! You're Victoria St. Clair?!!"
He hung his head. "It's nice to see that you're not judging."
"You? Victoria St. Clair?"
"No judging here. This is more like straight to the execution."
"Rook, come on. This is big. I've read Victoria St. Clair. There's nothing to be ashamed of." And then she laughed, but covered her mouth with her hand, stopping herself. "Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking about what you said the other day about everybody having a secret life. But you. You're an A-list magazine writer, a war correspondent, you've got two Pulitzers… and you're Victoria St. Clair? This is so… I dunno… beyond secret."