"Have you decided you want to act as his attorney after all?" Nikki put a spin on it, trying to add enough gravity to put the manager in his place. "You did say you were a lawyer. Are you a criminal lawyer?"
"Actually, no. I was house counsel at Levine amp; Isaacs Public Relations before I started my company. Got tired of bailing out all the Warren Rutlands and Sistah Strifes of the world for a joke of a retainer."
Nikki reflected on Sistah Strife, the rapper-turned-actress who had a nasty habit of forgetting she had loaded firearms in her carry-on at TSA and who had famously settled a sexual battery suit by a roadie out of court, reportedly for eight figures. "I may have new respect for you, Jess. You handled Sistah Strife?"
"Nobody handled Sistah Strife. You handled the mess she left behind in her wake." He softened the edge, even if only slightly. "So how can we both walk away from this meeting happy, Detective?"
"We're working the murder of a former limo driver and Toby Mills's name has come up."
So much for the respite. Nikki had just succeeded in pushing The Firewall's reset button. She could almost hear the servo-motors whir as the defense shield rose again. "Whoa, ho, hold on. You come to us about Cassidy Towne. Now you're back about some dead limo hack? What's going on here? Are you guys on some sort of vendetta against Toby Mills?"
Heat shook her head. "We're simply following a lead."
"This is feeling like harassment."
Nikki pressed forward against his push-back. "The murder victim had been let go for some unspecified altercation with a client. In checking the records, we see that Toby Mills had been one of his riders."
"This is a joke, right? In New York, New York… in Manhattan… you are seriously trying to make a connection between a limo driver and a celebrity? Like that's a quirk of some kind? And you pick my guy? Who else is on your list? Are you also going to interview Martha Stewart? Trump? A-Rod? Regis? Word is they take limos sometimes."
"Our interest is strictly in Toby Mills."
"Uh-huh." Jess Ripton did a slight nod. "I get it. What are you doing, Detective Heat, trying to get some more publicity for yourself by pinning every crime you can't manage to solve on my guy?"
There was no percentage going head-to-head with this man. Much as she wanted to lash back, Nikki decided to stay on point and not rise to his emotional bait. Sometimes it sucks to be a pro, she thought. But she said, "Here's exactly what I'm doing. It's my job to find killers, just as it's your job to protect 'your guy.' Now, I don't know how come, but in two murders this week, the name Toby Mills has come up in connection. I'm curious about that. And if I were you?… I would be, too."
Jess Ripton grew reflective. He turned to the infield, where Toby was lying on the grass getting his hamstring stretched by the trainer. When he looked again at Nikki Heat, she said, "That's right. Your guy or not-never hurts to keep your eyes open, huh, Mr. Ripton?" She flashed him a smile and turned to go, leaving him there to think about that one for a while. When Heat and Rook returned to the Two-Oh, Detective Hinesburg came to Nikki's desk before she even set down her bag. "Got a reply from CBP on the information you asked for about the Texan."
She handed a printout to Nikki, and Rook stepped close to read over her shoulder. "CBP?" he said. "Cooties, Bugs, and, what?… Pests?"
"Customs and Border Protection," said Nikki as she digested it. "I figured if our mutual acquaintance Rance Eugene Wolf left the country to do security work in Europe, there'd be a record of his return to the States… assuming he entered legally and used his passport."
"Post-9/11, odds are, right?" asked Rook.
"Not always," Nikki said. "People find a way to get in. But this little piggy came home. Last February 22nd he flew in on a Virgin from London to JFK. And spare me the wisecrack, Rook, I'm already sorry I said it."
"I said nothing."
"No, but you did that little throat-clearing thing you do. I think we're all for the better I headed you off." She handed the sheet back to Hinesburg. "Thanks, Sharon. Now I have another one for you. Start a list for me of Tex's clients before he left for Europe."
The other detective uncapped a stick pen with her teeth and jotted notes on the back of the Customs printout. "You mean like the name of his security employer? We have that, it's Hard Line Security out of Vegas, right?"
"Yeah, but I want you to reach out to them. Make a friend there and find out who he specifically got assigned to do security for. The NCAVC synopsis said he had good relations with clients, I want to find out who they were. And if he freelanced, anything you can get."
"Anything specific I should be looking for?" asked Hinesburg.
"Yes, and write this down." She waited for her to get her pen poised, then said, "Something useful."
"Got it." Hinesburg laughed and moved off to make her call to Nevada.
Nikki picked up a marker and squeaked the date of the Texan's return onto the time line on the whiteboard. When she was done, she took a step back to look at the collage of victim pictures, dates, times, and important events swirling around the three homicides. Rook watched but kept his distance. He knew her and knew from shadowing her on the Matthew Starr murder case that Nikki was undergoing an important ritual in her process… quieting all the noise, staring at all the disconnected elements to see if the connection was up there yet… sitting on the board, waiting to be seen. He remembered the quote of hers he'd used in his "Crime Wave-Heat Wave" piece: "It only takes one weak thread to make a case unravel, but it also only takes one tiny thread to pull it all together." And as he studied Nikki from behind, words failed him. Then as Rook was enjoying his view, she turned, almost like she knew what he was doing. Busted, he felt his face flush and words failed him again. "Some writer" was the only thought that came to mind. Nikki's desktop telephone rang, and when she answered, it was a kinder, gentler Jess Ripton than she had crossed sabers with a few hours before at the stadium. "It's Jess Ripton, how you doing?"
"A little busy," said Heat. "You know, fighting crime… looking for my next publicity opportunity…"
"That was a cheap shot and I apologize for it. Seriously. And think about it. Considering how I make my living, is there any chance I'd see getting whatever exposure you can get as a bad thing?"
"No, I guess not," she said. And then waited. This was his dime and she was curious about his mission. Guys like Ripton didn't do anything just because.
"Anyway, I thought I'd let you know that I talked to Toby about the limo driver you wanted to know about." Nikki actually shook her head at the mentality of handlers like this. Working the wealthier streets of the Upper West Side over the years, she had seen it so many times. The entourages and insulators who think speaking on behalf of an interviewee precludes the need for her to ask the questions herself.
"I wanted you to know Tobe doesn't recall having any beef with a driver. And I believe him."
"Gee," she said, "then what more do I need?"
"All right, all right, I hear you. You're going to want to talk to him yourself, I know that. And, like I said today, we'll work out a time. But I'm trying to not be a dick here. Not so easy, in case you haven't noticed."
"So far, so good." She kept it offhand. No sense engaging The Firewall's firewall.
"I'm trying to get you what you want and, at the same time, get my guy some breathing room to man up for his return to the mound."
"No, I get it. But you're right, Jess, I am still going to want to talk to him myself."
"Sure, and if you can wait a day or two," he said, "I'll be in your debt."
"So what does that get me? Cover of Time? Person of the Year issue?"