Couples

Chapter 50

"Where the hell is Louis?" Gunther Werner mutters to himself. His partner already missed a Skype with a supplier in China, and they have a meeting soon with a very cooperative shipping agent. If they don't take advantage of his weakness for trips to Atlantic City, someone else will. At first, Gunther's relieved to hear footsteps in the hall outside his office. Finally! He realizes there are too many feet, just as Kate Beckett, trailed by four uniformed police officers, is at his door. "Mr. Werner, I need you to come with me." Before he can close his gaping mouth, Kate snaps a picture.

Chortling, Rick regards his 8 X 10 print of the image Kate sent him. "This is better than at least the last 100 memes I've seen. What did he say?"

"Once he was able to get the words out?" Kate twirls a strand of hair around her finger. "That he was sorry, but he'd have to come to the station another time because he had to go to a meeting. I told him he wasn't going to make it."

"So what happened when you got him in the box?" Rick prompts.

"Pretty much what we expected. He called Fishkill a liar and claimed he knew nothing about the dishes or Garces' murder. Then he demanded a lawyer."

"What are you going to do now?" Rick asks.

"Turn the evidence against both of them over to Eli. He can have his people go over all their records and coordinate with customs or whoever else is involved in figuring out how to handle them. They may end up with both federal and local charges. If Eli needs the N.Y.P.D. to do more digging, he'll let us know. We might have to trace Werkill's movements leading up to the murder, but that may not be necessary. One or the other of them will probably make a deal to spill everything, and Eli won't give an iota more than he has to."

"I imagine not. From what I've seen, he's not keen on conspiracy to commit murder. But aren't Burrell, Gaetz, and Barron still coming down on him?" Rick wonders. "And he's also trying to run his campaign. That's got to be tough."

"You've got a point," Kate considers. "But at least with Werkill, I don't think he'll have to worry about a trial. As anxious as they are to blame each other, their lawyers will jump at a plea."

"Still," Rick muses, "I should check if the campaign needs more help."

"I'll reach out to Lana," Kate offers. "She'll know what kind of support he's getting and if he needs anything more."

"So, any further work on Werkill aside, what's next?" Rick asks. "Are you going to dig into the retired detective stack again?"

"Unless we have a fresh case, I will. But for tonight, I don't want to think about it. Do you have one of your incredible creations in the kitchen? I don't smell anything."

"There's nothing to smell," Rick confesses. "Meryl picked up Belle about a half hour before you came home, and Lily's only been down about 15 minutes. I thought we could order in. Chinese? Thai?"

"How about barbecue?" Kate suggests. "I'm in the mood to get saucy."

Rick's eyebrows ripple. "Are you talking about the food or the evening in general?"

Kate touches her tongue to her upper lip. "Yes."

Lanie regards the small selection of garments in Lorne's closet. "I've seen homeless people with more clothes in their carts than you have in this closet. I can't believe that a guy who had so much stuff we had to get rid of has so little in his wardrobe. "What are you going to wear for your first day at work tomorrow?"

"Same thing I'd wear to go to my lab in Pennsylvania, a T-shirt and slacks. I usually have a lab coat over everything anyway. I mean, don't you go to work in jeans and then change into your scrubs?"

"I do," Lanie allows, "but I don't do any consulting with big-shot clients. In most of my conversations in the lab, no one talks back. I can't believe you only have one suit."

"That's all I've ever needed. I mostly wore it to court."

"Yeah, it looks like a court suit. It must have been good in front of a jury. You wouldn't have wanted to look too fancy. You could move up a little, but it's too late to take you shopping now."

Lorne shrugs. "It won't matter. I'll be spending the entire day tomorrow either filling out paperwork or getting my lab set up."

Lanie presses her fingernail to her bottom lip. "OK, but we'll go shopping after work. I'm going to call Rick. That man has clothes for everything. If there's anyone who knows where you can get something decent without breaking the bank, he does."

"If we have to go shopping, can we at least have some fun afterward?" Lorne asks hopefully.

Lanie stretches up for a kiss. "I'm counting on it."

Settling into the chair at her desk in the bullpen, Kate grabs the file folder from the top of her stack and flips it open. With as many crime scene photos as she's seen, the image clipped inside still turns her stomach. The victim is Cliff Halsey, a young man in his early 20s. Before the attack, he had an androgynous face like a teen idol. He would have attracted every 12-year-old girl around but rarely anyone his own age.

Even before checking the autopsy report, Kate can see that the attack was personal. Blood streamed from knife cuts along Cliff's prominent cheekbones, and the slight cleft in his chin is slashed open. It appears to Kate that the fatal wound was a stab to the heart, and a quick scan of the M.E.'s account, confirms her guess. She grimaces at the signature on the narrative – Perlmutter. Talking to him is never an uplifting experience, but at least he isn't off to Belize or Bora Bora. His lab is as good a place to start as any, and she can drop in on Lanie while she's in the building.

"The real detective without the defective sidekick," Perlmutter greets Kate. "This morning is starting off better than I expected." He gestures at the body on the table. "You weren't at the scene, and the 54th responded. I didn't know it was your case."

"It isn't," Kate confirms. "I'm working on one a retiree left behind." She hands him the folder.

The furrows in the M.E.'s hound-dog face deepen. I remember this one. The knife scored a rib and practically shredded the left auricle. He never had a chance."

"Would the killer need a lot of strength to do that?" Kate asks.

Perlmutter strokes the graying stubble forming on his chin. "Strength, fury, or both. But the victim was disabled before the killing blow. The cuts on the face came first, or they wouldn't have bled the way they did. The murderer wielded the knife from above."

"As if Halsey was tied to a chair?"

"Not tied. No rope marks." Perlmutter points out. "He suffered a stunning blow to the back of the head. It could have kept him out of it long enough to be carved up."

"So the killer came from behind, hit him with something, put him in a chair, and killed him?" Kate summarizes.

"That would be consistent with my observations," Perlmutter agrees, "but up to you to prove, detective."

"Or get the suspect to admit," she replies. "But first, I have to find one."