Couples

Chapter 70

Kate could feel better about being dropped off near the entrance of the 12th by Bart Wygard, but she understands Rick's insistence on caution. She can't deny that his concern is sweet. It seems more than sweet when Johanna materializes in Kate's short path to the building. Pressing a finger to her lips, Kate's heavenly guardian points at a scaffold holding a window washer.

After pulling a pair of folding binoculars from her purse, Kate focuses on a man holding a long-handled squeegee. Her eyebrows rise in a silent query to her mother.

"He has three buckets up there," Johanna explains. "Two of them hold water and cleaning solution. The third is full of tools of the trade – very heavy tools of the trade. I saw him try to lift the thing. It must be weighted with lead or something. If it falls on you from this height…"

Kate nods and turns away from the potential assassin. She walks around the building to a side door opening on a stairway. Johanna follows. The rarely used stairs take Kate to a hallway leading to Montgomery's office. She barely bothers to knock. "Were the precinct windows scheduled to be washed today?"

The captain looks up from his morning load of paperwork. "It's part of the regular maintenance schedule, Beckett, although I'm surprised 1PP didn't cut it from the budget. Why?"

"Because I have a feeling the guy scrubbing the glass might be an imposter. Something doesn't feel right."

Montgomery drops his pen on a stack of reports. "He would have had to show I.D. before he was allowed in to work, but I've learned to trust your instincts. I'll have him checked out."

From the corner of her eye, Kate catches her mother's relieved expression just before Johanna fades out.

Barney Kleefe's eyes desperately scan the box as if some magical escape hatch could suddenly open up. The only thing that opens is the door. His would-be target steps through it.

Kate loudly scrapes her chair across the floor, startling the man handcuffed to the table. With her seat scooted up as far as it can go, she leans in, pinning the suspect with a paralyzing glare. "Mr. Kleefe, you've only worked for Big City Sparkle for two days. According to your employment record, before you signed on, you'd never washed a window in your life. Why now?"

"I needed a job, that's all," Barney claims, shaking his cuffs. "I shouldn't have to wear these. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Really?" Kate prods. "You had in your possession a bucket full of fishing sinkers that weighs over 100 pounds. If that had fallen or been dropped on someone, it could have easily killed them. What were you doing with it?"

"There's a lot of breeze at that height," Barney protests. "I was just making sure my tools didn't blow away."

"That would make sense if there actually was a wind today, which there isn't, and if it was part of your employer's regular procedure. In fact, the scaffolding which Big City Sparkle employs features clamps and tie-downs to hold equipment in place. And according to your supervisor, you were instructed in the company's protocols before you were put on the job."

"So I made a mistake," Barney admits. "But no one was hurt. If BCS thinks I did bad work, it can fire me."

"You have a lot bigger problems than getting fired, Mr. Kleefe," Kate informs him. "We've checked; you've been associated with several projects coordinated by Michael Roan for Saul Kushman. Citizens protesting those projects met unfortunate ends. That's a pattern, Mr. Kleefe. Judges admit patterns as evidence, and juries love to consider them. You've also picked an unfortunate time to come to the 12th because we're investigating all those nasty little accidents. I'm looking into them, and I promise you that everyone involved is going down and going down hard."

Barney shudders at the sudden pressure in his bladder. "But we can make a deal. Right? I can tell you all about Roan, and we can make a deal."

Kate shrugs, rising from her seat. "You're a minor player, Barney, but the D.A.'s office might be in a deal-making mood today." Kate begins to pull open the door. "I'll see what I can do."

Kate grins at Montgomery and Eli Douglas, who've been watching from Observation. "I can't remember the last time I felt so good about someone coming to kill me. Kleefe could give us more than Merdebutte and Green put together." She turns to Eli. "How long should I wait before bringing you in to get his story?"

"It looks like it's going to be a full day. I'm going to grab some of the great coffee you people drink around here," Eli decides. "Then we'll see just how wide we can open the spigot."

Rick's stomach tries its best to jump out of his mouth as Kate's summary of the Kleefe affair issues from his phone. Bart reported that after looking at something, she didn't use the main entrance to the precinct, but he saw her enter safely. Rick had relaxed too soon. "Kate, if Johanna hadn't been there, your head could have ended up like a watermelon at a Gallagher concert."

"Or I could have felt the bucket coming and jumped out of the way," Kate argues.

"And been hit by hunks of flying concrete when it crashed to the ground," Rick asserts.

"We'll never know. My mother was there, and I'm fine. And Eli and Roy are ready to break into song together," Kate adds. "After Eli finishes with Kleefe, he'll have more than enough to flip Roan. Then it's the people of New York versus Kushman and Flatt. And I can show you Kleefe's interrogation when I get to the loft."

Rick swallows against the burn of the acid in his throat. "I don't think I want to watch it. Just come home to me as soon as you can, Kate. Come home safe."

"I will," she promises.

Alan Kirschenbaum retreats to an empty corner of the 12th to make a call. "You'd better get the hell out of the city, better yet the country," he warns Saul Kushman.

"Is that bastard Roan going to flip?" Kushman demands.

"He is," Kirschenbaum confirms, "on you and Flatt. I tried my best to put a lid on it, but I couldn't. That bitch detective convinced him that turning on you and Flatt is his only chance to fight murder charges. And she's right, too. The evidence was piling up even before what happened this morning."

"What happened this morning?" Kushman presses.

"Roan hired some idiot to go after Beckett again. He blew the hit. And the asshole did it at her precinct! Beckett got him to flip on Roan without breaking a sweat. Everything is totally f***ed up now. She and that A.D.A. Douglas will have Roan by the short hairs."

Kushman grabs his pocket square to mop the moisture blooming on his face. "Have you called Flatt?"

"I called you first," Kirschenbaum explains. "You're in it even deeper than he is. But you're both screwed. My guess is there will be warrants out for both of you before the end of the day. Move whatever assets you can offshore and get the hell out of Dodge."

Kushman groans. "Most of my assets are in real estate. I can't move buildings. Flatt's resources are tied up the same way."

"Take whatever you can," Kirschenbaum advises. "And don't use a commercial airport. They get everyone on video." He pulls back from his phone at the stream of invective coming through the speaker. "Run, Saul. I'm going to tell Flatt the same thing. But I have to go now. I'm serving as Roan's counsel in his negotiations with Douglas. I'll do what I can to put the brakes on."

Kushman stares at his phone as it beeps the call's end. "Where the hell is he supposed to go? He owns a golf course in Scotland, but the thing bleeds money, and the U.K. might hand him over. He has a great vacation home in the Maldives. He quickly checks Google. No extradition. But crap! How the hell is he going to get there, and how can he move enough money to stay there?