Evelyn

Chapter 23

"Captain Montgomery, the help your wife is requesting is no longer necessary to an official investigation," Carl declares. "I can't justify expending departmental resources on it. But I do have a suggestion of someone who has been working very closely with D.N.A. data, including the genealogical databases. She's not on the N.Y.P.D. payroll, and I believe that you're already acquainted."

Montgomery palms the too rapidly smoothing top of his head. "I don't know any geneticists who don't work with the department, and I doubt Evelyn does either. Who the hell are you talking about, Osnitz?"

"Alexis Castle. She's been working here as part of her forensics program, and she did a great deal of the tracing of Ralph Johnson's victims. Bright girl. It's hard to believe she's that writer's daughter, but I know science talent when I see it, and Alexis has it."

"I'll be damned!" Montgomery exclaims. "Can you send her over to the 12th? I want to have a talk with her before I say anything to Evelyn."

"Consider her on her way," Carl promises.

Rick returns from the men's room just in time to see his daughter disappear through the door of Montgomery's office. "What's Alexis doing here?"

Kate shrugs. "I don't know. She waved at me on her way in but went straight to see the captain. But she might have said something to you if you were here. You can ask her when she's finished with whatever she has to do in there."

Rick's chair squeaks loudly as he drops into it. "I guess. So, did you dig up anything else on the leadership of the White Wall?"

"Not much. You weren't gone that long."

"Short pee. How about a name that looked vaguely familiar to me, David Jenkins? I think I saw it in one of Alexis' old textbooks once when she talked me into quizzing her for a bio exam."

Kate types for a few seconds. "Not exactly an uncommon name. There are a bunch of them in prison around the state."

"Let me go at it another way," Castle suggests bringing up the search engine on his phone. "Eugenics has a twisted connection to biology. That could give us the keywords we need to find White Wall's Jenkins. Yeah, here's the one that was in Alexis' book. He was a prominent geneticist at one time, lending a veneer of respectability to racism. But he's been deceased for years. According to Wikipedia, there's a son, David Jenkins Junior, but he dropped the 'junior,' after his father died. Sonny boy has always tried to push the canard that there's a scientific basis for discrimination and was associated with the White Wall. I don't see anything for the last ten years, but he isn't listed as deceased. He was implicated in –oh God!– a lynching. Maybe he's still in prison. He should be. His middle name is Jubal. That should whittle down your search."

"Right," Kate agrees. "There's a David Jubal Jenkins up at Sing-Sing. He…"

"Hi, Dad, Kate," Alexis interrupts, approaching Kate's desk.

Smile lines immediately fan from the corners of Rick's eyes. "What brings you to this den of arcane police procedure, Pumpkin?"

Doubtful caution paints Alexis' expression. "Captain Montgomery wanted me to help Ms. Montgomery with something. I think it's kind of confidential. But when I see her, I'll ask if it's OK for me to talk to you two about it. I'm going to meet her for lunch."

"Don't you have to go back to the lab?" Castle inquires. "You've almost moved in there these days."

"Not right now. Chief Osnitz wants me on this, sort of as a special project. But I'll probably be back there later." The paleness of her blue eyes brightens. "I'm going to get to use atomic absorption to analyze tissue for metallic poisons. Isn't that cool?"

"Very cool," Castle agrees. "Have fun."

Alexis bounds toward the elevator. "I will."

Rick turns to Kate as his daughter disappears. "Last time I saw her that excited was when her teen idol of all time was appearing on Broadway and Mother got her into his dressing room. She slept with a picture he signed for her under her pillow for months. Come to think of it; she might be even more excited now. I believe my little girl has truly found her calling."

"Sure looks like it," Kate offers. "I'm happy for her."

"But now back to our regularly scheduled program," Rick announces. "What about David Jubal Jenkins?"

"There's not much else here," Kate reports. "His record could be redacted if he cooperated with prosecutors in exchange for lesser charges. He might have flipped on some of his White Wall buddies. The only way we'll be able to find out much else is by talking to him."

"Does Sing-Sing have a decontamination chamber?" Castle wonders. "After we see Jenkins, I get the feeling we'll need one."

"I know what you mean," Kate agrees. "I wish it was that easy to shake that crap off. Ossining is only about an hour's drive from here. If we get anything useful out of Jenkins, we should be back in time to do something about it, or at least discuss it with Montgomery."

"Which seems to be more courtesy than he's giving us," Rick grumbles before following Kate out of the bullpen.

David Jubal Jenkins looks more pitiful than scary. He is covered with the white nationalist tattoos that many prisoners sport, but they sag on his thin skin. His cheeks are hollow, he's missing several teeth, and dark shadows ring his eyes. Anyone seeking superiority in human evolution would turn away from him in disgust. He regards his visitors with hopeful curiosity. "What do you want?"

"Information," Kate explains, "on the activities of the White Wall."

"Even if I was willing to give you any, how would I know?" Jenkins demands. "I've been in here for the last ten years."

"We're going back a lot further than ten years," Rick informs him. "Where were you in 1970?"

Jenkins leans back in his chair, a spooky calculation sparking in his shadowed eyes. "Assuming I had anything to do with White Wall in 1970, and I'm not admitting anything, what's in it for me to tell you what I know?"

Kate fixes him with a cool stare. "For one thing, it will be your best chance of keeping yourself from being charged with conspiracy in two homicides. I'm sure you know there's no statute of limitations on murder. Right now, you look very good to me for causing a car accident that killed two black teachers from Michigan and seriously traumatized their little girl. Does that ring a bell, Mr. Jenkins?"

"Wait a minute, a car accident?" Jenkins repeats, visibly startled. "I wasn't involved in anything like that. I directed other, uh, activities. But there was a group that went out on its own."

Kate rises from her seat and leans over Jenkins, leaving him with no retreat. "Where did that group operate?"

"Harlem. They went after the motherf***ers in Harlem."

"And who led that group?"

"An asshole named Evans, Jerrold Evans. Too damn stupid to even get out a message anyone could understand. Couldn't accomplish f***.

"Is he here?" Castle asks.

"I don't know where he is," Jenkins asserts. "You're in a better position to find out than I am. Are we done here?"

"We are very done with you," Kate retorts.

"Jerrold Evans wasn't on our White Wall list," Castle notes, as Kate starts the drive back to Manhattan. "But if he was part of some rogue satellite group, the authors of the reference I used might have been unaware of him."

Kate grips the wheel and gives the car more gas. "We'll check him out as soon as we get back. If Evans killed the Stoots, he'll pay for it."