about his summer ride-along experience with her squad hit the October issue of First Press, Nikki had been battling the negative attention the article gave her. So many colleagues felt left out and were either jealous or hurt. The fallout was not pleasant and it was in her face every day. Even Raley and Ochoa, the strongest allies on her team, harbored their own bruised feelings about getting footnote status in what turned out to be, unhappily for Heat, a love letter to her. But Nikki wasn't up for getting into their resentments about Rook's article any more than she wanted to open that can about her issues, which ran more personal. 'Ask Raley' was all she said.
He let it drop while he did some texting, then said, 'We're all set. Get off the highway at Fourteenth and head south on Tenth Avenue.'
'Thanks for the notice.' They were right on top of the exit. She shoulder checked and jacked the wheel to get them in the feeder lane before they blew past it.
'Skills,' he said.
As she nosed onto Tenth Avenue, she asked, 'Are you sure this source you're taking me to is willing to talk to me?'
'Affirm.' He held up his iPhone. 'That was the IM. We're all good.'
'And will this require a special series of knocks? A password? A secret handshake?'
'You know, Detective Heat, you mock me and it hurts.'
'Skills,' she said.
Just two minutes later they got out in the parking lot of the Apple Shine 24/7 Car Wash. Rook came around to meet her. She tipped her sunglasses down her nose and looked over the top of them at him. 'You're kidding.'
'You know, a little red hair and you could be that CSI guy.'
'I swear, Rook, if you're wasting my time here…'
'Hey, Jamie,' came the voice from behind her. She turned to see Rook's mob buddy, Tomasso 'Fat Tommy' Nicolosi, across the lot, holding open the glass door to the wash lobby and waving them over. Rook gave her a self-satisfied grin and walked to meet him. She followed, making a casual sweep of the lot for any hood pals.
Inside the lobby of the Apple Shine, Fat Tommy gave Rook a bear hug and a double-clap on his back, then turned to Heat with a smile. 'Nice to see you again, Detective.' He extended his hand and she shook it, all the while wondering how many beatings and worse he had used it for over his decades in The Life.
A livery driver in the requisite black suit and red tie came out of the restroom and sat down to read the Post behind them and they could see Fat Tommy's face tighten. 'It's a beautiful day,' said Rook. 'Would you rather talk at one of the outside tables?'
The mobster made a cautious appraisal of the busy corner where Tenth met Gansevoort. 'I don't think so. Let's use the office.'
They trailed him around the counter and into the room marked 'Private.'
'Are you losing more weight?' asked Rook as Fat Tommy closed the door. The hood had gotten his nickname in the early 1960s when legend had it that during one of the racket wars he took three slugs in the stomach but survived because of his gut. Nicolosi was still heavy enough to tilt his El Dorado to one side when Rook first met him, but now he was more afraid of cholesterol than brass jackets. Heat noticed he was wearing a similar track suit to the one he'd worn when she was introduced to him at the construction site in the summer, and it did seem a little loose on him.
'Bless you for noticing. Five more pounds. Check it out, Fat Tommy's tipping it at one seventy-three.'
Rook tugged at some excess velour. 'You lose any more, I'm going to have to tie a ribbon on you just to find you.'
Tommy laughed. 'You gotta love this guy. Don't you love this guy?' Nikki grinned and did a bobble head. 'Sit, sit.' As they took seats on the couch, he eased into the chair behind the desk. 'By the way, that was some nice article Jamie wrote about you. Real nice. Didn't you like it?'
'It was… memorable, for sure.' She turned to Rook and gave him the ready look.
Rook picked up on it. 'We really appreciate the courtesy of this meeting.' He waited for the protocol of Fat Tommy dismissing it with a wave and continued. 'I'm working with Nikki on that murder from this morning, and I told her you had some information that might be helpful.'
'You didn't tell her?'
'I gave you my word.'
'Good boy.' Fat Tommy removed his oversized sunglasses, revealing his basset-hound eyes, which he set on Nikki. 'You know my business. I keep my hands clean, but I know people who know people who aren't the most upright citizens.' Heat knew he was lying. This cordial little man was as bad as they come but was a master at insulating himself from anything prosecutable. 'Right, just so you understand. Anyway, I got a call recently from somebody inquiring about what it would involve to take out a hit on Cassidy Towne.'
Heat sat herself up a little higher on the couch. 'A contract hit? Somebody called you to make a hit on Cassidy Towne?'
'Not so fast. I didn't say someone asked for a hit. Someone asked what it would take. You know, there are stages to these things. So I'm told.' She started to speak, but he held out his palm and continued. 'And-and nothing ever came of it.'
'That's it?' she said.
'Right, it ended there.'
'No, I mean that's all you have?'
'Jamie said you wanted help, so I'm giving it. What do you mean, is that all?'
'What I mean,' she said, 'is I want a name.' He put his elbows on the desk and looked to Rook and then back to her. Heat turned to Rook. 'Did he tell you the name?'
'No,' said Rook.
'He doesn't know it.'
'I want it,' said Detective Heat, holding the mobster's stare.
A long silence followed. Through the walls they could hear jet blowers blasting water off a car. When they stopped, Fat Tommy spoke quietly. 'I want you to know I'm only giving you this because you're with him. Understand?'
She nodded.
'Chester Ludlow.' He put on his sunglasses.
Nikki felt a skip in her chest. She was going to write it down, but she thought she could remember the name of an ex-congressman.
'We good?' asked Fat Tommy as he rose.
'We're good,' said Rook, who also stood.
'Almost good,' said the detective, who remained seated. 'I want something more from you.'
'She's got balls, this one.'
Rook's turn to head bobble.
Nikki rose. 'This morning a crew, three shooters and a driver, jacked the coroner's van and stole the body of Cassidy Towne.'
Fat Tommy slapped his thigh. 'Holy crap, somebody ripped off the meat wagon? What a town.'
'I want them. Two of my friends were on that van and the driver is in the hospital. Not to mention a body was stolen.'
Fat Tommy opened up his poor-me hands. 'I already made it clear, I don't do that kind of work.'
'I know. But like you said, you know guys who know guys.' She stepped close to him and put a finger point on his chest for each word. 'Know some guys.' Then she smiled. 'I'd appreciate it. And it'll make it nicer when we see each other next time, Tommy. Hey, and congrats on the weight loss.'
He turned to Rook. 'You gotta love the balls.'
Out in the lobby they shook hands again. Rook said, 'By the way, Tommy, I didn't know you owned this place.'
'I don't,' he said. 'I'm just here getting mine washed.'
Heat called the precinct for an address on Chester Ludlow as soon as they got back in the Crown Victoria. When she hung up, she said, 'What's Chester Ludlow's beef with Cassidy Towne?'
'She was the reason he's not a congressman anymore.'
'I thought that was his doing, given the scandal.'
