Heat Gauge

Chapter Four

“Vic is Natasha Herskovitz, 43, born in Lithuania to Russian parents who immigrated to NYC in '72,” Ochoa read from his notebook. “They were circusfolk. Her father was ringmaster until he died in a car accident in '83, and her mother was an acrobat. Natasha learnt to eat fire and trained the horses, but her heart was always in the flames.”

“Oh … I like that … very poetic.”

“Rook.”

“Sorry.”

Ochoa shook his head. “Natasha loved fire so much she started using it outside the circus. Aside from her arson conviction in '95 she was also suspected of several fires that destroyed old warehouses, and one instance where the garden shed of an ex-boyfriend suddenly and mysteriously caught alight. There was never enough evidence to convict her.”

“Well at least the fire-eater career explains the burns around her mouth,” Rook said as Nikki scrawled the information Ochoa had just given her onto the murder board. A mugshot of Natasha Herskovitz was Blu-Tacked above. She was no beauty queen, but certainly had an aristocratic handsomeness about her.

Nikki stepped back from the murder board and tapped her lower lip with the capped marker, contemplating. “Did any of the workers or performers see anyone suspicious around the horse or mirror tents?” she asked.

“No-one recalls seeing anything out of the ordinary, but then again they were all inside the big top preparing for their first show next week. Pony Boy was the only person outside and he said he was over on the other side of the set up.”

Nikki pondered for a moment, looking at the photo of the vic's corpse. “Why the circus? Why not some random in an alleyway? The circus is exposed. They could have easily been seen. And how did they know Natasha would be in the horse tents?”

“They must have ties to her somewhere in her history,” Rook said. “An old friend or enemy perhaps.”

“Or cellmate,” Nikki added with a snap of her fingers. “Rales, call Bedford. Get Natasha's file here asap.”

“Roger that,” Raley said, hurrying off to his desk.

“And Ochoa, that family search you did, are any kin still alive?”

Ochoa consulted his notes. “Well, like I mentioned, her father died in '83. Her mother died of cancer in 2001, and one of her younger brothers was KIA in Afghanistan last year. But she has one brother left.”

“Where's he at?”

“Says here he moved to Vegas in '99.”

“Get his digits and give him a call. Maybe he can shed some light on his sister.”

Ochoa nodded and went to his computer, leaving Rook and Nikki staring at the board. A few minutes of silence followed as Nikki ran her eyes over every bit of information they had, becoming familiar with it, storing it away for future reference. It was what she did best.

“I'm going to find whoever did this,” she promised the photo.

“You want me to do what?”

“Rook, I mean it, stay in your apartment.”

“And what about you?”

“I'm going home. I still feel sick.”

He gripped her hand to keep her from leaving. “Fine, why don't you stay the night again, then? I'll keep an eye on you.”

Nikki hesitated, her free hand on the door handle.

“I can't,” she said eventually.

He sighed heavily. “Fine.”

She went up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Go finish your Cassidy Towne article. I'll call you in the morning.”

Nikki barely made the street before her cellphone rang.

“Is it morning yet?”

“Jamie!” She pivoted to look up at the dark window of his study. “Article. Now.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Jameson Rook, if that article isn't done by the morning there won't be any sex for a month.”

His slow, deep chuckle crackled through the connection. “Okay, okay … but what are you wearing?”

Nikki threw a quick glance at the detail parked across the street, waved briefly and strode quickly towards the corner, cupping her hand over her mouth so they wouldn't lip-read. “You know that red silk shift you got me?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, not that.” She laughed at his groan of frustration. “Rook … I'm not wearing the shift because I'm not wearing anything at all.” Air hissed. She pictured him sucking it in, hollowing his cheeks. Her imagination added a slight five o'clock shadow, even though she knew he had been clean shaven when she'd seen him three minutes ago. “And what about you?”

“Well, you just caught me getting out of the shower ...”

The light drizzle that began to fall was unable to dampen the fire that spread throughout Nikki Heat as she laughed and talked to the man who had wormed his way through her armour.