Couples
Chapter 34
"Werner and Fishkill," Auchincloss muses. "Yes, I had several meetings with those two—quite a pair of operators. I wanted to open a design your own pot pie restaurant. They objected that the process would take too long, limiting seating available for customers. I argued that the throughput could be as swift as in a pizzeria, with specially designed ovens. I pushed for more favorable equity terms and believed we'd be able to work out an agreement. Then they sprang the kicker on me. They wanted the pies served in exclusive stoneware they were sourcing from overseas. The crockery was their primary interest. They just wanted my restaurant as a means to promote it. I had to pull out of the deal."
"Why?" Rick asks. "Your pies are great! What difference would the plating make?"
"I would have had to refigure the baking times, but that wasn't the critical issue. Heavy metals can leach out of stoneware. I've seen it happen with imported earthenware pitchers used to hold juice. Children had to be treated for lead poisoning, and even so, they were never quite the same again. Anything used to prepare or serve food should be thoroughly safety-tested. That takes time and money. I found out that Werner and Fishkill were planning to go around the process. I wasn't about to feed my patrons toxic pies. Unfortunately, no one else was willing to back my idea."
"Your culinary concept intrigues me," Rick declares. "Put together a proposal when you have the time. I'll take a look at it and run it by Mark. If there's something there, I'll consider an investment. And you could pick your own pie pans."
"I'll do that, Castle," Auchincloss agrees. "But will what I told you help with solving Manny Garces' murder?"
Rick pictures Garces' collection of cups. They came from all over the world. He must have been as aware as Auchincloss of the hazards inherent in pottery. "You know, I believe you might have given me the clue that Kate and I need."
With his laptop across his thighs, Rick watches Lily racing through the expanse inside her corral faster than her short legs should be able to carry her. Kate's key clicks in the door lock. "I thought I'd come home for lunch to see you and Lily. And I have the information I dug up on Werner and Fishkill. Maybe we can put our heads together over a burger or something."
"Burgers are an outstanding idea," Rick declares. "And we can more than put our heads together. Chef Auchincloss gave me the key to a theory. I'll get some patties on the grill and tell you all about it."
Kate slips out of her lightweight blazer. "I'll put fries in the oven and work on the salad while you give me the details."
"So," Kate recaps, dipping an oven-crisped fry in ketchup, "you think that Werner and Fishkill wanted Garces to promote dishware for them like they wanted Auchincloss to do."
"Garces must have found out they were pushing potentially toxic china in the restaurants they bought into and threatened to expose them," Rick speculates. "I checked, they do a lot more business in importation than they do in hospitality, and the margins are better. If they're skirting the safety regulations, Garces could have put them in deep by spilling the beans."
"At this point, that's pure conjecture," Kate points out. "But we can check out your theory. Mm, for the chemistry angle, we could use a lab guru."
"Alexis is up to her ears in her work for Osnitz, but what about Dana?" Rick suggests. "He said he has a project this summer, but he won't have any coursework until the fall semester. And he helped me a lot when I was preparing to compete on Recollection. Let's invite him to dinner and see if we can get him on board with the case."
"And even if we can't, you want to keep an eye on what's going on between him and Alexis," Kate guesses.
"True," Rick owns up. "I promised not to interfere, but that doesn't mean I can't keep my antennae up. And maybe he'll have some ideas about your emerald."
"I almost forgot about that," Kate confesses.
Rick's mouth gapes. "Almost forgot about a $12,000 emerald? I suppose that to the homicide detective's mind, murder comes first. But Lily and I should have time to make it back to the antique store before she takes her nap this afternoon – if she takes her nap this afternoon. Hopefully, the excursion will tire her out."
Phileas Willow watches the front wheels of a stroller appear as the bell above his door tinkles. The man who is rapidly becoming his favorite customer is back. The store owner glances around, wondering what piece of junk he can unload today.
Rick pushes Lily up close to the counter. "Ma uz?" the toddler inquires.
"Not this time," Rick smiles down indulgently before turning his attention to the proprietor. "Mr.?"
"Willow," Phileas inserts.
"Mr. Willow, my wife insists that I owe you a finder's fee for her elephant."
Phileas's brows rise. "For a piece of bric-a-brac? That's very kind of her."
"Not for the figure – it's a puzzle actually – for the $12,000 emerald inside."
Eyes bug from beneath the risen brows. "An emerald? What? How?"
"I was wondering about that myself," Rick admits, "specifically how you found that particular item. I'm very interested in its history."
Phileas takes a gulp from a mug of cold coffee he pulls from beneath the counter. "For something worth $12,000, what kind of finder's fee are we talking about?"
"That," Rick replies, "depends on what and how much you can tell me. Where did you find the elephant?"
Phileas swipes a handkerchief at the sweat forming on his face. "Let me think. Oh, I remember. It was from one of those estate sales. You know the ones where the public can wander in for a weekend or two and buy whatever is there for the prices marked on tags? After that, the organizers start selling things off in lots until what's left goes to the Salvation Army or into a dumpster. I bought one of the lots. It had some periodical organizers in it. A trade magazine collector came in and scooped those up fast. There were also some old maps. I still have those. Every so often, someone will want something exotic to put on a wall. And, of course, I acquired the elephant."
"Do you remember where the sale was and who ran it?" Rick queries.
"I have a receipt with that information. I need to keep records for taxes. So about the finder's fee," Phileas presses.
"We'll discuss it after I see the receipt. And I also want to see the maps," Rick adds.
"Sure, sure. Right away." Phileas retreats behind a curtain into a back room.
"Ee," Lily babbles.
"Yes, he's interested in that fee," Rick agrees. "And I'm interested in those maps. There might be something in them to show where Mama's elephant came from. Or at least that's what happens in my "Charted" game.
"Ar," Lily repeats as Phileas returns with an accordion file and a cardboard box.
Laying the box on the counter, Phileas fingers through the contents of the file and hands a sheet of paper to Rick. "This is the paperwork. You can see that it was the Haverburge tag sale up in Washington Heights – the nice part. I'll make a copy for you." He points to the carton. "These are the maps."
Rick blows off a layer of dust. "Not in great shape." He pulls one out and opens it. Rick can't read the Asian inscriptions, but someone wrote "Siam" in English across the top. "I'll take these off your hands. We'll roll whatever you want for them into your finder's fee."
"About that," Phileas presses, "Finder's fees run to 35%. For an emerald worth $12,000, that would be $4,200."
"If I were under legal obligation from an existing contract that specified you'd receive 35% for finding me an emerald, I would agree," Rick allows, grateful for a few moments of research. "However, there was no contract, and with no obligation, this type of fee is considered a gift. That would put it closer to 5%, or $600. And according to your receipt, that lot cost you almost nothing. Considering that the elephant puzzle was already overpriced at the $50 I paid for it, you're still getting a heck of a windfall, Mr. Willow. Don't you think?"
"The elephant's eyes were jade," Willow protests.
"I had a jeweler check. Those chips were fine for a puzzle, but not gem quality. So accept $600 more than you expected to make, or I can take my daughter to the park now and forget the whole thing."
Willow clears his throat. "$600 is very generous,"
