“Not to worry. There’s a radio car out front.”
“What if there’s a sniper?”
“Come on, Rook. Who goes around worrying about a sniper?” He checked the higher rooftops anyway. She said, “I am not going to run scared and I am not going to give up on finding out how Gilbert pulled this off.”
“You always love a high degree of difficulty.”
“Just because something’s difficult doesn’t make it impossible.”
“True,” he said. “For instance, did you know a French author published an entire novel — two hundred thirty-three pages — using no verbs?”
“Snapple cap?”
“Snapple cap. An education inside every lid. More tequila?”
“We should maybe pace ourselves,” she said. “Speaking of difficult, but not impossible, are you done publishing blogs and articles that make my life miserable?”
“Are you calling me difficult?”
“But not impossible.” She leaned in to kiss him again. “OK, one more.”
“Kiss or shot?”
“Surprise me.” Rook kissed her, then poured. Before she drank it, her cell phone rang. “Ochoa. I’d better.…”
He agreed and threw back her ounce while she answered.
“Sorry to call you so late,” said Ochoa.
“You kidding? You guys can call me anytime.” She tried to sound bright and, yes, conciliatory but didn’t get a response. “Where’s your partner?”
“I’m on, too,” said Raley.”
“Hey, Sean. Good. Got the full Roach.” Nikki heard herself pushing too hard. Whether it was from the tequila or trying to rekindle lost camaraderie, she decided to dial it back to business mode. “Going to put you on speaker because I’m with Rook.” She pressed the button. “What’s up?”
“Just got off my conference call with the state BCI inspector handling the fugitive warrant for Earl Sliney.” By reflex, Heat reached for her notebook the way ex-smokers go for phantom packs, but she’d left it downstairs. Rook pulled out his and handed it to her with a pen. “Sliney’s been off the grid, but they caught a break because, apparently, he’s traveling with the other guy from the Queensboro Plaza video cam.”
“Mayshon Franklin?”
“Right. Well, Mayshon screwed up day before yesterday and shoplifted some beer at a package store up the Hudson in Rhinebeck.”
“Got his picture taken by the cash register cam,” added Raley. “And they pulled his prints off the glass on the beer case.”
Ochoa dovetailed right in to the narrative. “Database spit him out as a known associate of Sliney’s, who has a brother living in that area, a small town called Pine Plains up in Dutchess County. State and county vanned up and raided the brother’s place. They’d missed nabbing these dirtbags by six hours.”
Nikki asked, “Did Sliney’s brother say where they went?”
“Nah, either he doesn’t know or he’s throwing up a wall. But that’s not the reason we called.”
“It’s about what we learned about the brother,” said Raley with some weight attached.
“Yeah…?”
Ochoa said, “Earl Sliney’s brother works at a farm up there. His job is he flies the crop duster.” After the shortest pause, he continued, “So what we’re saying is that Earl Sliney’s brother had access to an airplane.”
Even slowed half a step by the tequila, Heat quickly calculated the math of Roach’s inteclass="underline" Fabian Beauvais worked the ATM theft crew with Franklin and Sliney; Sliney was already known and wanted as a murderer; security video depicted Sliney popping off three rounds at Beauvais, who was on the run from him; Beauvais had a gunshot wound; Sliney’s brother had a plane; Beauvais fell from the sky.
A familiar claw grabbed hold of Nikki’s gut. She wasn’t liking at all where this was going. Not liking the bright, shiny, and new probabilities of Earl Sliney versus Keith Gilbert as the killer.
“It’s food for thought,” she said and found out what it sounds like when a Roach sighs on a conference call. “I’m not saying it’s not viable stuff. It’s just—”
“—It’s big,” said Ochoa, jumping on hard.
Heat bobbed her head. “Agreed. So what we do is put it with all the other pieces and see how it shakes out.”
“What needs to shake out?” Raley’s question was as valid as it was tersely delivered.
“Look, I’m not shutting your theory down, fellas. You know that, don’t you?”
After an interval of whooshing street noise rising on their end, Ochoa said, “What are we doing, then?” His voice carried the subdued consternation of both partners.
Because she needed to be open to the possibility that they could be on to something, and because she wanted to reconnect with this pair that she liked and admired so much, she said, “Here’s what you’re doing. Set your alarms for early-early and be in Pine Plains by sunup. Go to that farm and brace Sliney’s brother, Roach style. Check out his whereabouts on the morning of the planetarium fall. Get his story and get corroboration. Check out the plane. What condition is it in? How many seats? See if there’s logs or flight plans. I don’t know the rules for rural aviation, but you may get lucky. What I’m saying, boys, is work this. Follow the hot lead, right?”
Only slightly mollified, they said that was all they wanted to hear and said good-night.
“So,” said Rook after Nikki plopped her phone on the table. “Sounds to me like they’re still hacked off from this morning when you bitch-slapped them on the sidewalk in Chelsea.” He caught her reaction and froze to backpedal before he bit into the lime wedge. “Perhaps I should explain. It’s true that I spoke to Detectives Raley and Ochoa on another matter today and that incident came up. But in a purely informational way. The inference that your interaction constituted a bitch-slap was purely mine.”
Nikki set aside her annoyance about being gossiped about and went for the money. “What other matter did you discuss with my detectives?”
“See, I should never do the reposado and talk murder. It’s a bad combination.”
“Don’t try to joke your way out of this, Rook, tell me.”
He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair to consider. “All right. I was going to let this go until tomorrow, not wanting to add another log to the pyre of your case, but I heard that Keith Gilbert had filed a restraining order last month against — wait for it — Alicia Delamater.”
“And this was from a good source?”
“Yes, but I always verify. Hence the call to Roach. And it checks. So things may not be so cozy around Beckett’s Neck. Not like that puffed-up, hack mystery novelist neighbor says.”
“You’re pissed because he said you should stick to magazines.”
“I don’t think it’s ignoble that I found his judgment harsh.”
Nikki didn’t hear that. She’d slumped in her chair and raised her face to the sky conducting some secret dialogue with herself.
“Heat, I know it’s not good news. It blows the mistress theory right out of the sky — meaning no disrespect to the late Mr. Beauvais.” He leaned forward and put his hand on her knee. “Hey?” She lowered her chin and stared at him. “Can we just put this whole business on hold and enjoy the rest of our night?”
Nikki shivered, wishing she’d brought up a sweater. Or maybe never come up. “You mean like talk more about our day?”
“You want something to eat?” He started to reach out with a fork. “The smoked salmon is from Citarella.”
“Maybe talk about how my case is unraveling before my eyes?” He put the fork down and gave her his attention. “Or how my squad is whispering and giving me the buffalo eye when I walk in the room? Or how about the meat grinder I walked into with One Police Plaza?”
“They’ll get over it. Zach Hamner has no feelings. He isn’t even human. Probably hangs his suit of human skin over the shower rod at night.” When she didn’t crack a smile he said, “Are you worried he’ll kill your shot at the task force?”