Couples

Chapter 33

Rick can't wait to tell Kate what Sternbach said about the emerald, but she calls him before he gets the chance to phone her. "Babe, I just heard from Fiona Garces. She found the names of the men who came to see her husband. I'll text them to you."

"Great!" Rick exclaims, "but I have news for you too. Are you sitting down?"

"I'm at the espresso machine. I was about to make coffee when Fiona called. Whatever it is, just tell me."

"All right," Rick agrees. "The emerald is real, Kate. Harold, that's the jeweler, said that because of its dark shade, the stone is worth about $12,000 in the current market."

"Shouldn't you tell the junk shop owner who sold you the elephant?" Kate inquires.

Rick sighs. "Oh, you're going to get all by-the-book coppish on me, aren't you? Kate, he had every chance to research the piece. If he'd taken the time and effort, he could have found the emerald himself. But if it will make you feel better, I could give him a finder's fee or something. And I do want to ferret out where he got the puzzle. There could be a book in how that emerald got inside. But however it ended up there, it's yours. Harold wanted to know if you'd like him to set it in a ring or a pendant or something."

"I'll have to think about that," Kate decides. "There must be a reason why someone hid it. Maybe it was stolen."

"Or maybe it had a curse on it," Rick suggests, "and the only way the victim could get rid of it was to pass it on to someone else."

"A curse? I think you've been spending too much time talking to your mother. I thought she was going to faint that time Alexis said she had to read Macbeth for school."

"Theater people are very superstitious, and coming from a family of carnies, Mother may be even more so. But curses on jewels are infamous, Kate," Rick insists. "Consider the Hope or Koh-I-Noor diamonds, although that last one can be worn with impunity by a god – or a woman. Perhaps the emerald was meant for you. But I assume that checking out the names Fiona gave you takes priority over solving the mystery of the hidden gem."

"Yes, it does," Kate confirms. "I'll be checking the N.Y.P.D. databases, but let me know if you come up with anything from Mark or Auchincloss."

"Will do," Rick promises. "I'm always anxious to hear the dulcet tones of your voice."

Rolling her eyes, Kate can't help smiling. "Talk to you later, Babe."


Lorne wraps his arms around Lanie as she works on a plan to get his things moved from Pennsylvania to New York City. "Thank you for doing this. It isn't the greatest way to spend your day off."

"Being with you is the greatest way to spend my day off," Lanie insists. "But you'll have to make some decisions. There's no way all this stuff will fit in your new apartment, even with the walk-in closet. Some of it has to go."

"Couldn't I put it in a storage unit?" Lorne wonders. "The moving company said they offer them."

Lanie's head begins to bob back and forth. "Of course they do. Storage spaces in the city go for a fortune. And they charge for interstate moves by weight, right?"

Lorne nods.

"Then they make more money on both ends, by shipping and storing your overflow for you. It's a nice little racket." Lanie points at the couch. "You could start with that. Wasn't there one like it in your old dorm?"

"That is the one from my dorm. The housemother said I could have it if I'd haul it away. I got a friend with a truck to help me."

"Sounds like the dorm got the best of the deal. You should give that thing a decent burial. And your books weigh a ton. Most of the forensics references are online now. You could donate some of your dead tree versions to a university library. How about your collectibles?"

"I won't even think about leaving any behind," Lorne insists. "They're all going if I have to put shelves for them up on an entire wall in my new place."

"You'll lose your security deposit for making holes in the plaster," Lanie warns.

Lorne crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't care. They go to the new apartment – all of them."

Lanie shakes her head. "I'm beginning to see why you and Castle like each other so much. You inhabit the same weird universe. All right. I'll figure out something."

The mollified M.E. draws her into his arms. "I know you will."


Osnitz gestures Alexis into his office. "The city's come up with some extra funding to accelerate testing on rape kits. Apparently, the suits are bracing for an assault from Burrell's people on the city's total failure to crack down on what they refer to as 'actual sexual assault.' As cynical as the attack may be, his team has a point. We have one hell of a backlog. A lot of cities around the country do. However, while we're analyzing the kits, I want you to look outside the traditional box. From what I understand, Gaetz has been running various trafficking operations for years. We don't know how long he's been distributing his rub-on pick-me-ups to his customers, but looking for the component mix you spotted may give us an idea. And your other analyses may turn up perps who've been taking advantage of the lag in the system. From now on, your tests will be part of the kit protocols. Do an official write-up, and I'll go over it with you."

"Do any of those backlogged kits come from unsolved murders, like the case Detective Beckett and my father just solved?" Alexis asks.

"I believe some of them may," Osnitz admits, "particularly if the detectives pegged the victims as prostitutes."

"Prostitutes or not, they deserve justice," Alexis contends.

"Yes, they do," Osnitz agrees. "And perhaps they'll finally get it."


"Werner and Fishkill," Mark repeats. "Yes, I am familiar with that pair. They finance restaurants but not as straight investors. They do it with a step-up equity arrangement. It's one of those rip-offs where the original owner ends up with a small stake and no control. Garces was successful enough that he would have had to be crazy to go for a deal like that."

"So you don't think he would have considered going into partnership with them?" Rick presses.

"I can't imagine why he would," Mark replies. "With the kind of business M.G. was doing, still does as I understand it, Garces could have gone straight to any bank."

"What if the restaurant he wanted to open would be nothing like M.G.?" Rick wonders. "If it was some kind of a longshot, would the banks still be as friendly?"

"Maybe not," Mark considers, "depending on how off-the-wall his plan was. The failure rate for untried ideas is extremely high, as I'm sure you heard about ten times a day when we were putting together Imagination Patch. You bucked the trend, but most owners can't afford to do that. You should talk to Auchincloss. He's had a lot of out-there ideas for restaurants. But he could never manage to open any of them. He can give you the chef's perspective."

"Yes," Rick mulls, "I'll do that."