Recollection Rick

Chapter 10

After inhaling deeply, Joe Beekman takes a sip of the coffee in the breakroom. "It was worth coming over here just for this, Detective Beckett. I remember the Fisher accident well. Such a shame. What do you want to know?"

"As I understand it, there was a discrepancy about the brake inspection. Roger Berringer logged that it was performed, but the shop involved claimed he'd never brought the car in."

"You understand correctly," Detective Beckett. "I went through the records. In my opinion, Roger Berringer lied through his teeth and cost that woman her legs. Peaceful End should have fired him, and Lucille Fisher should have sued his ass. I have no idea what happened to him after I closed my investigation. Do you know?"

"He was murdered, Detective Beekman, beaten to death," Kate replies. "That's why I asked you about the accident. Anyone who cares about Lucille Fisher would have had a motive. Did you witness anything that would lead you to believe one of the Fishers or someone from Peaceful End might have been responsible for Berringer's death?"

Beekman cradles his mug, letting the ceramic warm his hands. "To be blunt, I think anyone at the home or in the family would have been tempted. I heard the kind of mumblings you always hear after an avoidable tragedy like that. And, of course, Lucille's husband was angry. But I can't point the finger at any one of them. And I'm glad about that because I'd hate to give those people any more grief."

"I understand, Detective. I have other leads to follow, but I wanted your take on what happened. Thanks. And we have to-go cups if you want another coffee for the road."

Beekman cracks his first smile. "I'd appreciate one."

Just as Beekman is leaving, Kate's phone sounds an alert for an email arriving from the Sullivan County Sheriff. It's short and to the point. "What we have on Bucholzer. See attached."

Kate takes the short walk to her desk to download the file to her computer. The first thing she notices is a string of aliases. So, Bucholzer is a grifter like Berringer was. They must have been partners at some point for her to play his reference. Unfortunately, the sheriff didn't have Bucholzer's fingerprints, but he did have a description. Berringer's erstwhile accomplice has dark hair, dark eyes and is about five-foot-two and heavily muscled for a woman.

According to Perlmutter, whoever swung the bat at Roger Berringer was strong, but not necessarily tall. Bucholzer would fit that bill. If she and Roger Berringer had a falling out, it would explain the letter Ceil Gortyn saw. If Bucholzer sent it, she knew where Berringer worked and could have followed him to New York.

Kate studies the list of akas. If Bucholzer did come to New York, she might have presented herself at Peaceful End to look for Berringer. Hopefully, Ceil or another member of the staff will remember if she did. Even if none of the names ring a bell, a heavily muscled five-foot-two woman might.

If Kate called a casting agency seeking someone to play a funeral director, Michael Fisher looks like exactly who she'd expect them to send. He'd also make a great character in one of Rick's books. Michael is slim and pale, well but not flashily dressed, with handsome, but not too handsome, features. "Yes, I remember a woman who looked like that, but not any of these names," he replies to Kate's inquiry. "As I recall, she said her mother was in hospice, and she was looking to make the arrangements. She didn't sign up for any services, but I keep notes of all my contacts. Sometimes our clients look around for a better deal elsewhere before returning to us. I can most readily serve their needs if I don't have to ask questions twice. I assume her visit would have been close to, but prior to Roger's passing." He taps on his keyboard. "Yes, Barbara Mason, I believe that's the name she used. I took the information from the guest cards we have potential clients fill out. I can run you a printout."

Kate leans forward in her seat. "Do you keep those guest cards? If you have hers, our lab might be able to use it to verify Ms. Mason's identity."

"Yes, of course. We keep them in a file that dates back to when my grandparents first started this place. The computer is more efficient, but the cards are a bit of Fisher family history," Michael explains. "I'll get the card for you."

"If you could just show me where it is, I'd like to bag it as evidence," Kate requests.

Michael stands, inclining his head toward the door of his office. "Of course, follow me."

Wearing a pair of gloves she pulls from her pocket, Kate retrieves Barbara Mason's guest card and drops it in an evidence bag. Between fingerprints and D.N.A., Osnitz and company should be able to come up with something she can use.

"Barbara Mason," Rick repeats. "Not as creative as Sandra Bucholzer, but not unconvincing either. So you think this was a case of no honor among thieves?"

"Could be. Or I could be barking up the wrong tree. Even if Barbara came looking for Roger, it doesn't mean she killed him. It still could have been Peter Fisher, or even someone else Berringer ripped off. But if something the lab gets off that card matches anything on the body or the crime scene, then we're getting somewhere."

"How long do you think it will take to get some results?" Rick asks.

"Osnitz was smiling and wearing that checked bow tie that Alexis said she thinks is his favorite. So fingers crossed for tomorrow. But I have to tell you about Michael Fisher. If I hadn't met him, I would have sworn you dreamed him up."

"Maybe I'll see what kind of a spin I can put on him, and the muscular Ms. Mason, too. Ooh, she might fit into a category I was looking over for Recollection today – female athletes. The men get the attention and the money, but athletically speaking, the women are better."

Kate rolls her eyes. "And why should athletics be different from anything else? But that's an angle I hadn't thought about. If Barbara Mason is a female bodybuilder or a weightlifter, she might have entered a competition at some point."

"Or some enterprising reporter might have used her in an article," Castle suggests. "There can't be that many women fitting her description. It's worth a look, at least until you get your lab results."

"It is," Kate agrees. "But right now, I want to look at what's in the refrigerator. I used my lunch break to pump for Lily, and I'm starved."

"Can't have that!" Rick declares. "Leftover lasagna? Even after the attack of the locusts disguised as teenagers, we still have some."

"Probably because you were too busy worrying about Dana to eat much of it. But sounds good."

"You know," Kate muses, digging into the reheated pasta, "I'm a little bit surprised you spent the day studying for Recollection. I thought you'd be running a background search on Dana, maybe hiring a P.I. to follow him." Rick stares at the floor. "You did do a background search on Dana."

"All right. I admit it. I did. But I didn't hire a P.I. It turns out Dana's father is one, pretty well known. He broke the Conover kidnapping when the F.B.I. was looking in the wrong state. The kid's from good stock. He could give Alexis a run for her money. That could be fun to watch – as long as he keeps his distance."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I may be back to the bubble wrap."