However, he claims not to know the subject of the book and says he doesn't have a manuscript.'
'Bullshit,' said Hinesburg.
Nikki, who heard enough profanity on the street not to enjoy it in the office, turned to the detective. 'Sharon, I believe you're saying what we're all thinking.' And then she smiled. 'The rest of us had the poise just to think it.'
When the laughs died down, Raley asked, 'What about a search warrant?'
'I plan to look into that, Rales, but even with some of the more sympathetic judges we know, my gut says that's a tough one to get because of First Amendment issues. The whole idea of police looking through files at a book publisher conjures some unpleasant totalitarian connections for some people, go figure. But I'll try anyway.'
Roach made their report on the Padilla ground they had covered. Ochoa said that for something that had looked like it might be nothing but dead ends because nobody would talk, they had ended up finding something pretty intriguing. 'Our nobody produce truck driver was actually a former limo driver. Frustrating that it took so long for that to pop. Maybe one day the city can get all the systems so they talk to each other.'
'Then what would we do?' said Nikki, her sarcasm eliciting a few chuckles.
'Anyway, we ran him through TLC,' continued Raley, 'and got the name of his old employer.'
Ochoa picked up. 'We also got with his produce truck boss. He says that Mr. Padilla had gotten an attorney and filed a wrongful dismissal suit against the limo company. Figured we'd check out the lawyer first before we hit the limousine dudes. That way we'll know what we're walking into.'
'Know who the attorney is?' asked Raley. 'None other than Ronnie Strong.'
The whole room groaned and then began a unison, albeit ragged, chorus of the tagline from the sleazy lawyer's local TV commercials. 'Been done wrong? Call Ronnie Strong!'
'Nice work, Roach,' Heat said. 'Absolutely, get over and see that attorney. Judging from his commercials, I'd bring some hand sanitizer.' And as she gathered up her files, she added, 'And if either of you comes back here wearing a neck brace, you're dead to me.' Detective Heat had a gift waiting for her when she got over to her desk. An encrypted e-mail from the FBI agent at NCAVC in Quantico. It was from the data analyst she had befriended the night before, and when she clicked the e-mail open, the top half of her screen filled with a color photograph of the Texan. The police sketch Nikki had provided was underneath and it was nearly an exact match. She stared at both and then had to remind herself to breathe. Nikki wasn't sure if her reaction was due to the memory of his assault or the excitement of zeroing in on him. Either one was enough to kick her heart rate up a notch.
A brief note from the NCAVC analyst said, 'I'd like to take credit for the quick ID, but this is what happens when cops give good data. Your counterparts around the country could take a lesson, Detective Heat. You can thank me by bringing this one down.' Nikki scrolled to read the sheet the agent had put together for her.
His name was Rance Eugene Wolf. 'Male, cauc, forty-one. 6?-1? 160. Born/raised in Amarillo, TX, by his father after the disappearance of his mother when subject was in middle school. Local police investigated the mother's sudden miss-pers on a drive to Plainview to visit relatives with the son/subj., who was found alone in a motel room off Hwy 27. Husband was cleared and case went cold as unsolved/runaway. Interesting to note the son/subj. was questioned five times over two years, including by a psychologist. No comments, no disposition.
'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.'
