'This is some nice luggage, man. Quality stuff, all brand-new. This is real Tumi, huh, not that knockoff crap.'
'Yeah, well, we're taking some vacation time. Need to chill after the funeral and all,' said the cousin, not sounding very convincing, even to Raley, who didn't speak the language.
'That's a lot of luggage for just a vacation. How long you plan to be gone?' When the cousin just stood there with his door keys in one hand and a CVS bag in the other, Ochoa rose from his chair and walked the line of suitcases. 'Let's see, you've got two jumbo sizes here. A garment bag-I guess that's for those new clothes we saw hanging on the door the other day. Another large suitcase. Three carry-ons… Homes, you are going to get so hit with baggage fees. And tips. You're going to need to tip that skycap a ton to help with all this. That's going to cost you, my friend. But you can handle that, I guess, right?'
Victor said nothing, just stared at a dead spot in the air somewhere between himself and Ochoa.
'Well, I think you can swing it no sweat. Tips, baggage fees… I bet you could even get a limo from your cousin's old boss to drive you to the airport and it still wouldn't make a dent. Not in this.' The detective nudged a small sport duffel with the toe of his shoe. The skin on Victor's forehead tightened and his gaze slowly descended to the bag. The top zipper was wide open and the stacks of cash were visible.
'I told you to zip it,' Victor said to the boy.
Ochoa wanted to ask whether he meant his mouth or the duffel, but he didn't want to ice the conversation. They had a lot to talk about. Back at the precinct, Heat took a call from Raley, who told her about the carry-on of cash and that they were bringing Victor and Pablo in for questioning. She agreed that since the bag was open and in plain view, spotting the money likely obviated the need for a search warrant, but that he should consult the DA in case any charges came out of this. 'How much cash was it?'
'Ninety-one thou.' Raley paused before he added, 'In twenties.'
'Interesting number.'
'Yeah, and we ran a check, the cousin's straight. No drug busts, no gambling or gang affiliations. That chunk of change smells like some sort of payoff that's light by about nine thousand. My guess is it went to plane tickets, wardrobe, and luggage.'
'A hundred grand just doesn't go as far as it used to, does it, Rales?'
He laughed. 'Like I would know.'
When Heat hung up, she turned to find Sharon Hinesburg hovering around her desk. 'We've got a customer coming.'
'Who?' Nikki figured it was too much to hope it would be the Texan, and she was correct.
'Morris Granville. The Toby Mills stalker? They picked him up in Chinatown trying to get on a Fung Wah bus to Boston. He'll be here in thirty minutes. Or you don't pay.' Hinesburg handed her Granville's file.
'They're bringing him here?' asked Heat. 'Why not the Nineteenth Precinct or CPK? Central Park claimed turf on him, we're just cooperating.'
'Except the arresting officers say the guy mentioned you specifically by name. He says he saw you in yesterday's 'Buzz Rush' and has something he wants to talk to you about.'
'Know if he said what?'
Detective Hinesburg shook her head. 'Maybe it's a desperate attempt to bargain.' And then she chuckled. 'Hey, I know. Now that you're a big celebrity, maybe he wants to stalk you.'
'Hilarious,' said Nikki mirthlessly.
Oblivious as ever, Hinesburg said, 'Thanks,' and moved on.
Nikki wondered if she should call Toby Mills's manager, Jess Ripton, to notify him. Ripton had cooperated by providing photos and details about Granville, but the stalker's specific request to see her was unusual enough to make Heat decide to see what that was about before inviting the brutish distraction of The Firewall into the mix. And to be truthful, she had to admit she was annoyed at the manager for being such a ballbuster every time they encountered each other. Making him wait an hour brought an undeniable passive-aggressive satisfaction she wasn't proud of but could live with. Cops are human, too.
While she reviewed Morris Granville's jacket to prepare for the interview, her phone rang. It was Petar.
'I heard that was you with Soleil Gray today and wanted to see how you were doing.'
'Holding up,' she said. The mental replay of the singer's dive under the train spooled again in the sickening slow motion unique to traumas. Nikki tried to switch it off before the part with the blood on the white leotard but couldn't. Then she realized Petar was asking her something. 'I'm sorry, I missed that. What did you say?'
'I was asking if you wanted to get together on my dinner break.'
'Petar, you know, this may not be the best night.'
'I probably shouldn't have called,' he said.
'No, it's thoughtful of you, thanks. I'm just preoccupied. You can imagine.'
'OK then. I know you better than to push.'
'Smart boy.'
'Hey, if I were that smart, I would have learned that years ago. Anyway, I'm sorry you had to go through what you did today, Nikki. I'm sure you did everything you could.'
'I did. But it was in her head to do this. Soleil had something she couldn't live with and found her way to end the pain.'
'Did she say what?'
'Unfortunately, no.' Heat made it a practice never to discuss details of a case with anyone outside the squad, so she slid by it. 'All I do know is there was nothing I could have done.' Saying it made her feel a little better, though she knew that if she really believed it, she'd stop the replay and the search for what she could have done differently.
'Nikki,' he said, 'I know right now isn't the time… but I want to… see you again.' The weight of that notion and the complication it brought was off the charts for her to even consider, especially after her day.
'Petar, listen-'
'Bad timing, sorry. See? I pushed it anyway. When will I learn?' He paused. 'What about a coffee or something tomorrow?'
Across the room, Detective Hinesburg appeared in the doorway and gave her a beckoning nod. Nikki picked up Granville's file. 'Tomorrow… Yeah, maybe we could do that.'
'I'll call you in the morning. In the meantime, please know that if you want to talk, I'm here for you.'
'Thanks, I appreciate that.' After she hung up, she stared at her phone, feeling a little strange about his call and his pushing. Then Detective Heat cleared her head and strode off to Interrogation. In the corridor she met up with Raley, who was outside Interrogation 1. 'How's it going with the lottery winners from East Harlem?'
'Ochoa's in there with them now. Nothing yet.' He held up a package of peanut butter crackers and a bottle of hideous blue energy water from the vending machine. 'The kid's hungry, so I'm springing for dinner.'
'I'll be in I2 with Toby Mills's stalker. But let me know if anything breaks.'
Nikki stood a few moments in the Observation Room to size up Morris Granville through the glass before she went in. His file said he was forty-one, but in person he looked more like he was in his twenties. In spite of his receding hairline and the first strands of gray showing up in his thick brown curls, he had the look of a man-child. Chubby, short, with a pasty complexion and a slouchy posture that made his neck disappear into his double chin. He was alone and kept looking up at himself in the mirror across the room, but sideways, never facing himself. It was as if he kept checking to see if he would still be there when he looked back.
Granville sat up when Heat entered the room and sat down. His eyes, which had a permanent squint that made him look like he was always smiling, widened and fixed on her in a way that made Nikki feel uncomfortable. Not leered at so much as… gawked at with unearned admiration and intimacy.
'I'm Detective Heat.' She tossed his file and a pen on the table and sat. 'You wanted to talk to me about something?'
He stared at her some more and said, 'I loved your magazine article.'
'Mr. Granville…'
'So formal. Morris is fine. May I call you Nikki?'
'No.'
'I saved an issue. Is there any chance I could get you to sign it?'
'Zero.' She watched him tilt his head down. His mouth twitched ever so slightly and his dense eyebrows
