Chipping Through the Ice
Chapter 44
When the bell over her door tinkles, Barbara Stratton immediately surveys the couple entering her boutique. If these two become grandparents, it won't be for at least a decade or two. They could be married. She's wearing a wedding ring, but he isn't, uncommon but not unknown these days. But they don't have the harried, slightly exhausted look that usually shouts parents of young children - even many with nannies. She smiles a greeting as they approach her post behind a colorful display of high-end toddler sportswear. "Can I help you find something?"
"I hope so," Lisa answers, gazing lovingly up at Farley. "My husband is becoming involved in a project to bring basketball to underprivileged kids - the little ones just starting out - 3-year-olds who drop the ball in a little plastic hoop. Most of them just have t-shirts and shorts - whatever their families can find at the dollar store or the Good Will." Lisa indicates the display. "We have a niece who visited them wearing a tiny jersey like these. The other little ones pointed at the number on it and seemed to like it. We thought it would be nice if those poor children, there are 20 of them, could have jerseys too, you know, so they'd feel better about themselves."
"Would you want them all to match?" Barbara asks, mentally toting up a sizable sale.
"It would build group unity," Farley responds.
"Of course," Barbara agrees. "I'll have to special order them, but I have a wonderful connection in the garment district that can turn them out quickly - in a day or two with an upcharge."
"The money isn't important," Farley assures her. "It's all about the kids." He pulls a money clip holding a wad of bills from his pocket. I would be happy to give you a deposit or whatever you need."
Barbara takes care not to smile too broadly. "That would be helpful, Mr..."
"Cooper," Farley fills in. "Brett Cooper. Would three hundred dollars be enough to get you started?"
"Just fine," Barbara replies, taking the cash. "And how can I reach you, Mr. Cooper?"
Farley passes her a card. "Just call this number."
Lisa intertwines her fingers with his. "Babe, if we're going to make it to Zabar's to pick up the babka my mother likes before they run out, we'd better hurry." She glances back at Barbara. "It's only a three block walk from here, but," she rolls her eyes, "the line."
"I know," Barbara agrees. "I go there for the smoked fish salad. They're the only ones in the city that have it. Well, you two have a great day, and I'll be in touch."
"Brett Cooper, is that an identity OOTC created for you?" Lisa inquires as, in case Barbara is watching, she and Farley stroll up Broadway in the direction of 80th Street and the famous delicatessen.
"No, I've had that one for a long time. When the team traveled, we used aliases to avoid unwanted intrusions - most of them, anyway. That number will forward to my cell phone, and I'll know who it is even if our jersey seller blocks her ID. And if she runs a check on Cooper, which she wouldn't need to do for a cash transaction, I'll be alerted. It's easy for me to go with our cover story. I am going to get involved in working with some kids. Did you see the look on her face when I pulled out those bills? I've seen fans watching winning plays with less excitement."
"Yeah, I think she may have to change her panties." Lisa speculates. "It sounds like we'll know if she takes the bait pretty soon. Do you want to keep going to Zabar's? They're supposed to have great coffee beans. You could get some for your girlfriend."
"Lanie doesn't drink coffee, but she'd kill for some of their halvah."
"What are you making guacamole for?" Kate wonders as Rick adds the finishing touches to his spicy green concoction. "I thought you canceled the poker game."
"I did," Rick confirms. "Having people coming in and out of here would just complicate things for the operatives Proctor has watching the place. But I bought the avocados hard, a few days ago, so they'd be just ripe enough for tonight, and if they sit around, they'll get all brown and icky."
"So now that you've made it, what are you going to do with it?"
Given that we will be unable to ply our skills with the cards against not-so-worthy opponents, I thought we might engage in another distraction."
"With guacamole? That's kinky, even for you, Babe. Are you sure you don't want to go with whipped cream?"
"Maybe that too, later, but I found something we can do during Callie's waking hours. A friend of mine found this at a kitsch con," Rick explains, passing Kate a DVD."
"Temptation Zane?"
"Um, hmm. It's a satire of your favorite guilty pleasure, with a little more oomph than they can show on broadcast TV."
"And by oomph you mean porn?"
"Not exactly, although between consenting adults, there would be nothing wrong with that."
Kate bumps him with her hip. "I'm not sure that the term 'adult' is entirely applicable to you right now, but if not porn, what is it?"
"Alternative casting. It's funny, Kate. You'll love it!"
Still giggling, Kate dries her tears on her sleeve. "That guy did look a bit like Lance Hastings - with more hair."
"You'll get that when you cast an orangutan," Castle notes. "The fellow did have quite the acting range, and the chimp who played the gigolo wasn't bad either. I thought the one who played the Fox family matriarch was a bit over the top, but that will happen swinging from a chandelier." He gazes at their empty bowl. "We did consume all the guacamole, so mission accomplished."
Kate flutters her still damp lashes. "And after we get Callie put down for the night, we can start on our next one."
Rick grins. "I'll bring the whipped cream."
Jake regards his computer screen in triumph. As he expected, it's been a long day, but it looks like he's found the right Mulligan. After 30 years it appears that his suspect has shrunk an inch. Then Jake isn't as tall as he was 30 years ago either. But Cyril Mulligan is still an imposing figure. His biography states that he started out in the plastics industry with a successful tenure at Hendriks - a bit of embroidery if Mac was to be believed. It has him going on to start his own business - understandable with the kind of reference he would have received from Hendriks. According to the flattering narrative, using his height to his advantage, Mulligan became a window washer. He was so successful at removing city grime that he took on several associates. A fall from a scaffold limited his use of a bucket and squeegee, but he continued managing operations. According to the listing in the directory, Mulligan's Window Cleaning Services now serves all five boroughs, making residential and commercial glass sparkle. Jake wonders if Kate would like to get the windows on the OOTC building cleaned. Perhaps Mulligan himself can be lured in with the promise of a lucrative contract. Jake whistles his way to the breakroom. After he makes himself a sandwich from the stock of cold cuts in the refrigerator, he'll send her an email. No point in disturbing whatever peace she can get at home. He knows from experience that parents of infants get little enough of it.
