Chipping Through the Ice

Chapter 29

After years of water damage due to a leaky roof, and with the population of young people at the school diminishing, the annex where Joey Banks had hidden the evidence of his crime has fallen into disuse. No developer bid on the property, and it has stood unoccupied for a decade. Other than trimming back the weeds that grow around it, and making sure there are no squatters, the city does little to maintain it. When, by the light of heavy-duty flashlights, Joey Banks points to a spot in the Northwest corner of the dank basement, there is no one to object when picks begin to swing.

There isn't much left of Maura Hicks; mostly bones and teeth, but the shirt, jeans, and sneakers she'd worn to school are still recognizable. The canvas backpack, with the initials, "MH" that Joey had thrown in with her is also uncovered.

In her lab, Lanie extracts enough DNA from the bones and teeth to confirm there is a parental match with Lila Hicks.


Lydia Matlock studies copies of the autopsy and forensic reports from the retrieval of Maura Hicks' body. No DNA was found that could have tied her murder to Joey Banks. His fear, if not his remorse, had sent Joey to Rikers to await sentencing. Lydia bargained the charges against him down to second-degree murder, but she knows Judge Mira Ramirez. They went to law school together. There's no way Mira won't throw the book at Joey hard enough to knock him into the ground. He'll get the maximum - life - probably at Fishkill. It will be a step up from being sent to Sing-Sing, but Lydia doesn't imagine that either the staff or the other inmates will show much love for a man who drugged and murdered children. He'll pay for his crimes, not as much as Lydia might have wished, but it will be a hell of a lot better than if he had skated free.

She let the court know that she's not taking any more appointments. She can pick up a case pro bono if she feels her client is getting a raw deal, but, if she can help it, she won't be defending any more scum like Joey Banks. That's going to leave a hole in her practice that she's not sure how she's going to fill. Perhaps she'll get some answers at the Bar Association affair she's attending that night. While her colleagues swap stories in the absence of any press to overhear them, she may be able to do some networking.


Silverware clatters and children chatter at La Concina de la Abuela. The name of the restaurant lends a level of comfort to Esposito. His grandmother's home was one place he'd felt safe and happy as a boy. The hostess leads the group to a family table, picks up the coloring placemats and crayons that are meant for young diners, and distributes menus. Kate has Callie strapped into her front carrier, but the seating easily accommodates the other five.

At another table nearby, a toddler in a highchair is both nibbling and scattering bits of tortilla chips on the gaily tiled floor. Lanie studies Esposito's face as he surveys the scene, noting the wrinkle of distaste on the bridge of his nose. Not a good sign.

When their server arrives to take their orders, announcing her name as Carmelita, Callie chooses the moment to begin to fuss. Lanie smiles as Rick drapes his jacket around Kate, providing cover while she unfastens the inner zipper of Callie's carrier so the baby can sup along with the rest of the family. Carmelita waits patiently during the moment required, while Esposito pastes his eyes to his menu. He barely hears Carmelita's recital listing cheese stuffed jalapeƱos as one of the special appetizers of the day.

Lanie put's a hand on her date's arm. "Javi, you like those, don't you?"

He pulls his gaze up again. "What? Oh yeah, sure."

"We could all share one of the giant nacho platters while we're waiting for the rest of our food to come," Rick suggests. He continues without a beat, turning to Alexis just as she opens her mouth. "I know you don't like black olives. If you get any by accident, you can give them to me."

Lanie's gaze sweeps back and forth over the three older members of the Castle clan. Everything seems so easy, so automatic as they anticipate each other. Her parents are like that too, but she's not sure if she could ever be with Javi. She wonders if he'd even try. While Kate and Rick both order steak fajitas, Lanie goes for the lighter fare of tilapia while Javi selects the hearty carnitas. As dinner goes on, Lanie has less and less faith that any long term relationship with Javier Esposito will work out.


While the other attendees of the Bar Association get-together are circulating and enjoying assorted alcoholic beverages, Jim Beckett has his fingers firmly wrapped around a glass of club soda with a swizzle stick in it. He has no intention of stirring the liquid, but the stick makes it easier to blend in without some idiot encouraging him to seize the day and live it up.

The food isn't much to write home about. He's never cared for making a meal of attractively arrayed tidbits - he'd much rather have a steak, a hamburger, or better yet a ballpark hot dog. Once he conducts his business, he can leave and get something more substantial to eat. Katie asked him to try to recruit more volunteer, or at least low cost, legal services for OOTC. He's called most of the attorneys he knows who might be interested in providing a helping hand, but so far he's struck out.

From across the room, he recognizes Lydia Matlock. As a defense counsel, she pursues different types of cases than he does, but they've crossed paths a few times. He's found her dedication to serving the little guy admirable - usually.

According to the Ledger, Lydia is Joey Banks' lawyer. Since she is court-appointed, it's possible she had little choice in the matter, but it isn't the most savory association. Nevertheless, of the people in the room, she seems to be Jim's most likely prospect. He weaves his way through the crowd to where she's staring at the unsatisfying contents of what's passing for a buffet table.

Lydia looks at the man who's just arrived at the pitiful display of what was billed as food. He's not reaching for any of it either. "Jim Beckett, right? I remember when they gave you the public service award for your defense of consumer's rights to accurate labeling. You did good work."

"Perhaps I should bring suit against whoever advertised this as dinner," Jim responds.

Lydia shrugs. "It might be for a supermodel trying to fit into a size zero."

"There's a steakhouse about two blocks from here that serves a good top sirloin. Would you like to join me? I'm involved in some other work you might find interesting to discuss. The pie there isn't bad either."

She turns to him with the first smile she's had since the court stuck her with Joey Banks. "You had me at steak, Jim, but pie sounds wonderful. And I'm dying for some black coffee."

Jim offers her his arm. "I could use some myself."