Naked Heat by Richard Castle Read Free Book Online Page A

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,