Free Naked Heat by Richard Castle

didn’t take dictation from Chester Ludlow, she wasn’t going to honor Jess Ripton’s type-A stampede. She wanted to keep this her meeting. But now, at least, she understood the stall. Daddy’s here.
    “Are you Toby’s attorney?”
    “I have a degree but no. I’ll call the attorney if I think we need one. Do we need one?”
    “Not my call to make,” she said with a bit of push-back in her tone. Then she thought, what the hell, and left Ripton in his chair to take a bar stool facing Mills. “Toby, I want to ask you about an incident last week at the residence of Cassidy Towne.”
    The PR handler shot to his feet. “No, no, no. He’s not answering any questions like that.”
    “Mr. Ripton, I am a New York City homicide detective on official business. If you’d rather have me conduct this interview at the Twentieth Precinct, I can arrange that. I can also arrange for those news trucks on 78th Street to roll four blocks north for some choice video of your client’s arrival for questioning. Now tell me, exactly what point would that be along your value chain?”
    “Jess?” Toby broke the silence. “I think we should just clear the air and get this behind us.”
    Nikki didn’t wait for Jess. Toby was willing, so she grabbed the moment. “An eyewitness says a few days ago you kicked in the door at that residence. Did you?”
    “Yes, ma’am, I sure did.”
    “And may I ask why you did that?”
    “Easy. I was pissed off at that bitch for dickin’ with me.”
    Jess Ripton must have bent over and picked up the face that he’d lost, because he got back in the mix, albeit with more diplomacy. “Detective, would it be all right if I told the story? Toby’s here to correct me if I miss anything and you can still ask him all your questions. I think it will go a lot smoother for all of us, and, as Tobe says, we can put this behind us. Looks like the team is going to advance to the ALCS next week, and I want him focused on getting his hammy better so he can be ready for the opener.”
    “I am a baseball fan,” said Heat. “I’m a bigger fan of a direct answer.”
    “Of course.” He nodded then continued as if she had never spoken. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Toby Mills isn’t found in the scandal sheets. He has a wife, a young child, and one on the way. His brand value is family friendly, and he not only has multiple top-tier endorsements, but a thriving charitable foundation.”
    Nikki turned her back on the suit and faced the client. “Toby, I want to know why you kicked in the door of my murder victim.”
    That got Ripton on his feet. He took the bar stool between her and Rook and drew it back so he formed the center of a semicircle around his client when he sat. “It’s a simple story, really,” said the manager. “Toby and Lisa just moved into this place two weeks ago. They wanted to be in the heart of the city he plays in instead of Westchester County. What does Cassidy Towne do? She prints the story, including the street address, right? So there it is in the New York Ledger , a full half page of her column. A picture of Toby. A picture of this house. And the street address for every nutjob in the world to see.
    “Well, two guesses what happened. Toby has a stalker. Last week, a couple mornings after they move into their new dream home, Lisa takes her son for a walk to Central Park. The sailboat pond is, what, a block away? They’re crossing into the park, and this stalker rushes up, starts yelling his crazy talk, and scares the crap out of both of them. Her security guy intervened, but the guy got away.”
    “Do you know the name of the stalker?”
    “Morris Granville,” said Toby and Jess together.
    “Is there a police record of this?” Heat asked.
    “Yes. You can check it out. Anyway, Toby was at the stadium when Lisa calls him, crying, and he goes ballistic.”
    “I tell you, I freaked.”
    “Do I need to school you about stalkers? Do I need to tell you what happened to