breakfast of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Nick said hurriedly, “It’s about Dara.”
The lieutenant paused. Then sat down.
“What’s about Dara?” asked K.T. sharply when the waitress had refilled their coffees and left.
“Danny Oz, the Israeli poet who was one of the last people interviewed by Keigo Nakamura…”
“I remember who Oz was,” said K.T.
“… told me yesterday that he met Dara and an unidentified fat, balding guy who must’ve been ADA Harvey Cohen on the day that Keigo interviewed him. I need to know why she was there, K.T.”
K.T. lifted her coffee cup with both hands and sipped slowly, obviously just as a way to find time to think. “Oz never mentioned your wife in any of the other five investigations into Keigo’s murder,” she said softly.
“Five?” said Nick. “Five? I just knew about our department’s joint investigation with the Feebies and then the Japs themselves, Nakamura Senior, doing it again a couple of years later.”
“There’ve been three more since,” said K.T. while she looked down at her coffee. “DHS three years ago, then our office again after the governor put a rocket up Pena Junior’s ass. Then, a year and a half ago, the Feebies again with the CIA or some damned spook group looking into the nasty corners where the feds usually can’t go.”
“So my investigation makes six in six years,” murmured Nick.
“Your investigation makes five and one one-hundredth,” snapped K.T. For a fleeting instant there was a rare expression on her face, as if she wished she hadn’t said what she’d said.
But Nick just nodded. “Why has Nakamura hired me after all that firepower has come up empty? But the truth is, I don’t care why… I just want to find out why Dara and Harvey Cohen were there in Six Flags that September day. There’s also a chance that she was at the party in LoDo the night Keigo was murdered there.”
K.T. looked up. “At Keigo’s digs? No chance, Nick. All the investigations have combed that party list and the video recordings a thousand times. Hell, Nakamura’s people even re-created the whole thing in a three-D simulation. No sign of Dara.”
“Simulations come out of a computer,” growled Nick. “Computers depend on what goes into them. And on one of the outside videos I caught a glimpse of… someone… who could’ve been Dara, across the street about half a block away. Right when everyone was hightailing it out of the building before the cops got there.”
K.T. shook her head. “The FBI and the other tech investigations enhanced all those outdoor night videos. No matches with anyone of interest.”
“Well,” said Nick, setting words in place like sliding bullets into a revolver, “maybe my dead wife wasn’t of interest to them. But she’s of interest to
The lieutenant leaned back and away from him. “Jesus, Nick. You’ve been watching or reading too many goddamned private-eye stories where the defrocked ex-cop still has a pal on the force that does all the heavy lifting for him, despite the fact that it’d cost a real cop in the real world her gold shield. Well, I’m not your pal anymore, Nick Bottom, and I wouldn’t do it if I were.”
“You were Dara’s pal,” Nick said flatly, his hands clasped together and his forefingers pointing at K.T.’s chest like a pistol. “Or you acted like you were back then.”
“Fuck you, Bottom.”
“And fuck you, Lincoln. You’re not worried about losing your gold shield. You’re worried about losing your next promotion. But what’s next to get promoted to, K.T.? Commissioner? Mayor? Queen of Colorado?”
Nick had chosen a booth near the back of the diner, near the restrooms and away from the windows and early-morning crowd, but people were still turning to stare over the backs of their booths.
Nick leaned closer and whispered, “I need your help, K.T.”
The lieutenant’s expression had not changed except perhaps for a slight narrowing of her eyes. “What you need, Nick, is a shave, a haircut, to get your teeth cleaned, and to lose about twenty-five pounds. A new suit and a tie might help as well.”
Nick felt the wince inside but did not show it. “I need your help, K.T. I need to know why Dara was at Six Flags. And if she was near Keigo’s apartment that night.”
“She never said anything to you about Cohen or the district attorney looking into anything having to do with Keigo Nakamura?”
“Nothing that I remember. I’m going through those days one at a time with flashback and everything she says or doesn’t say seems suspicious to me now. I need to talk to the district attorney then, Ortega.”
“Mannie Ortega?” K.T. chuckled and took a piece of bacon from Nick’s plate. “Good luck in seeing the mayor to ask questions about something he probably didn’t even know about six years ago. The word downtown is that Ortega sees being mayor of Denver as a temporary stepping-stone. He has national aspirations.”
“Well, fuck him and his national aspirations,” hissed Nick. “I just need to know what Harvey Cohen was working on that might have put him and Dara in Six Flags Over the Jews that day.”
“Maybe you can get away with pulling your Advisor strings once to get in to see Ortega,” said K.T., “but your… investigation… doesn’t have a damned thing to do with who killed Keigo Nakamura anymore, does it?”
“I don’t know,” Nick said truthfully. “I just know that right now I don’t give a shit about who killed that kid unless it has something to do with Dara. And maybe even Dara’s… accident.”
K.T.’s strong eyebrows shot up. “Her accident? You’re not suggesting that the car crash that killed her and Harvey Cohen was more than an accident?”
Nick shrugged and looked down at his cooling and congealing breakfast.
“Nick, the state patrol, sheriff’s office, and DA’s office all shared their investigation notes with you five and a half years ago. I know they did. Traffic was moving fast when Cohen’s car started to exit I-Twenty-five to East Fifty-eighth Avenue—Harvey always drove too fast around the city. The old couple in the Buick gelding in front of them stopped suddenly. No reason… someone just slowed in front of them and they slammed on the brakes, the way old drivers do so often. Harvey couldn’t stop in time or get out of their way, neither could the driver of the eighteen-wheeler behind them, and all three vehicles went into the barrier. The old couple and the trucker also died in the fire. For God’s sake, where is there anything but an accident in that, Nick?”
He looked at her through bloodshot eyes. “Did you ever hear of a swoop-and-squat, K.T.?”
The lieutenant snorted. “Sure I have. One of the oldest auto insurance scams on record. But I’ve never heard of the braking car in front of the targeted auto being an old anglo couple with not a single moving violation to the driver’s name, nor the squat car being an eighteen-wheeler. Nor have I heard of swoop-and-squat scamsters volunteering to die in a fire. You have to do better than that, Nick.”
“Where the hell were they coming from, K.T.?”
“Who?”
“Harvey and Dara. Where were they coming from when this ‘accident’ happened?”
“Lunch, I think the report said.” K.T. suddenly sounded tired.
“They’d been out of the office for more than three hours by then,” snarled Nick. “Long goddamned lunch. And where the hell were they going? The DA’s office at the time just said they were going to take a deposition of someone in Globeville—no other details. Who the hell goes to Globeville to get a deposition?”
“I guess ADAs and their assistants do when the person being deposed lives in Globeville,” said K.T. “Why didn’t you bring these questions up at the time?”
“They didn’t seem important at the time,” said Nick. “Nothing seemed important at the time.”
K.T. looked down at her strong fingers where they were splayed on the tabletop. “You’ll have to see Ortega and the current district attorney for all that information,” she said very softly. “What do you want
“First, get me everything that the state highway patrol, sheriff’s office, and DA’s office didn’t show me almost six years ago,” said Nick. “And everything from the coroner’s office that I didn’t see.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Finally, she said, “Nick, do you really want to see the accident-site photos of Dara’s crumpled and burned body?”
“Yes,” said Nick, returning her stare with some ferocity. “I do. Also Harvey’s body, the old couple’s, and the truck driver’s. And I need to see everything the department had on everyone involved in that crash. I want to know everything there is to know about that trucker and the old farts.”
“Is that all?”
“No,” said Nick. “I need you to poke around and see if any branch of the department or the FBI or anyone else was looking into anything about Keigo Nakamura before he was murdered… anything that might have brought
