Moment in Time Part 3
Chapter 113
Much Ado About Murder
Part 7
In the back seat of Ryan and Esposito's unit, Kate brushes the hair from Rick's forehead. "Are you sure you're all right? The medic said there could be some lingering effects from that knockout spray Oso's men used on you."
"I'm fine, Kate," Rick reiterates, "as long as I don't have to meet up with Jorge again. He might have gotten away if I hadn't tripped him. I doubt he'll take that well."
"Well, you don't have to worry about it. He's going to spend the rest of his life in federal prison. The FBI assured me he'll be secure."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what the Federales in Mexico thought too. You know, Kate, he's a pretty remarkable man. A movie about his life would probably be excellent box office. And it would likely garner a load of Oscars too, not just for the leading man, but for the director and the producers - and of course the screenwriter. If the musical score was any good, it might get the nod too. And DVDs and pay-per-view would also be a goldmine. I can see why Zane was willing to torture himself by playing Hamlet. I'm almost sorry I won't get to write it. It would be quite a feather in my cap as well as a possible statue on the mantle."
"The loft doesn't have a mantle," Kate points out. "You put up a fancy rope to hang Christmas stockings on."
"I was speaking metaphorically. But for Zane, the feather wasn't metaphorical. It was in his neck. All things considered, it's probably best to stay as far away from the El Oso story as possible. But you know, Jorge asked me an interesting question. He wanted to know if he looked like a man who would kill someone with a feather, the quill pen. He had this old and apparently much-used Bowie knife that would be a much more likely weapon. I could even see him hacking up Zane with a machete, but not with an Elizabethan writing instrument. Which begs the question: what kind of a murderer would choose that method to terminate Zane's soliloquy? Or maybe it was not a choice but a weapon of opportunity. I believe the pen was part of the stage dressing. Perhaps the murder was not planned but rather a crime of passion."
"By someone whose presence in the theater at night wouldn't be questioned," Kate considers. "Which leaves us with cast and crew."
"Some of the cast was out drinking with Naomi Fox," Ryan puts in from the front seat. "We already have their statements."
"Right, we can cross them off the list. So who's left with that big a hate-on for Zane?" Kate wonders.
"We never did find out who actually took the bat to Zane's car," Rick recalls. "It could be that mutilating an innocent automobile wasn't enough to quell the murderer's rage. I wonder if the bat's still around somewhere, perhaps hidden in one of the nooks and crannies of the theater."
"It's more than worth a look," Kate decides. "And we'll want to dig more deeply into anyone with that kind of access to the building."
"Mother may want to help. When I called to tell her I was all right, she was pretty pissed off that I had to go through the whole El Oso thing for nothing. And by the way, thank you again for returning my phone. I'm glad I don't have to break in another one. I just got my contacts straight."
"It didn't have any useful prints on it, so it wasn't evidence. But you're welcome." Kate checks her watch. "We can deal with the background searches in the morning. It's almost midnight. You probably want to crawl into bed and get some sleep."
Rick flashes a grin. "Well, crawl into bed, anyway."
Martha leads the way down a corridor. "From what I remember, there were all sorts of props, leftovers from other shows, stored back here. Our propmaster reused some of them but returned them when he was done. And I think there were some bats from a revival of Damn Yankees."
"Great musical, but how did it go over with Yankees fans?" Ryan wonders.
"The Yankees were losing that year, and the director stuck with Bob Fosse's original choreography, so I don't think they cared," Martha opines.
Ryan winces. "Oh, choreography. I wanted to try my new steps for Sarah Grace's play. But this morning Jenny told me that the other parents were against it. I went over Sarah's song with her before I left this morning, but she was pretty nervous."
"A few nerves are good before you go on stage," Martha offers. "They add emotional depth to a performance. Well, here we are." She points to a wall of cubbies almost hidden behind a collection of flats.
"There are bats," Esposito notes, producing evidence bags from the pocket of his jacket. "And it looks like one of them has glass fragments stuck in it."
"Like from the windshield of a DS-9," Rick speculates.
"It shouldn't take the lab long to find out," Esposito declares.
Ryan looks up from his desk in the bullpen as the elevator doors open on Jenny, pushing Nick in a stroller next to Sarah Grace in a sunflower costume. "Daddy!" Sarah Grace calls, running to her father.
As he hugs his daughter, Ryan glances questioningly at Jenny. "Shouldn't you all be on your way to L'il Tyke Town?"
"Sarah Grace said she had to see you first. She says she doesn't want to do the play."
Ryan crouches in front of the preschooler. "Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to be nervous. You'll be great."
"I think she's afraid she'll forget the words," Jenny whispers. "She kept asking me about them before she said she had to talk to you."
Ryan takes his daughter's hands. "Would you like me to go through the song with you?" Sarah nods. "OK, we'll do it together.
"Flower, flower, flower, fun!
Flowers growing in the sun.
Raindrops fall from clouds on high."
Father and daughter spin around.
"And all day long, the bees buzz by," they finish together.
"Ready now?" Ryan asks.
Sarah Grace bounces, nodding.
"I'll be there for showtime," Ryan promises.
Ophelia presses her palm to her breast. "Oh woe is me, To have seen what I have seen."
"No!" Erin interrupts. "You've got to feel it more. This isn't just some guy who broke up with you on Snapchat. Hamlet betrayed you. He never loved you. 'Get thee to a nunnery,' right? Hamlet took everything from you."
"That's certainly a scene you can relate to, isn't it, Ms. Cherloff?" Castle asks as he mounts the stage with Ryan and Esposito.
Erin turns, scowling. "This is a private rehearsal. We have a break in 20. Can you let us finish?"
"I think you are finished," Ryan declares.
"All respect to the bard, but we're here with a tale of our own, one of betrayal and jealousy, yet sadly classic," Rick informs the director.
"A truly gifted director watches as her classmate's star rises in Hollywood, where she fought like hell for every opportunity," Esposito continues.
"I love what I do. So what if Zane made millions because he chose the gym over acting school. I make art," Erin insists.
"But when Zane asked you to cast him as Hamlet, you said no, didn't you?" Rick questions.
"Yes," Erin admits, "until he convinced me he was right for the part."
"By offering you your big break directing the El Oso pic," Ryan surmises.
Rick picks up the tale. "But it was a Hollywood promise – not worth a damn. Tell me, did he confess to you that he would be directing the picture on his own, or did he just tell you you lost the job?"
"Neither, because it didn't happen," Erin argues. "I don't know anything about an El Oso project."
"Then how do you explain the browser history on your laptop?" Esposito queries.
"Or the shoes in your closet with Zane's blood on them?" Ryan inquires.
"And then there's Zane's car. You tried to steer us toward Naomi by telling us she took a bat to it," Rick accuses. "But she didn't. You did. That's why you had the pictures. You took them as a trophy. And then there was the bat. It was also used in the original Broadway production. And you're too theater to dispose of something that historic. So you put it back where you got it. But you should have wiped off your fingerprints. Together, all the props will build a picture for a jury of the woman deprived, not of love but fame. Actually, it would make a pretty good Lifetime mystery."
"Erin Cherloff, you are under arrest for the murder of Zane Cannon," Esposito announces.
As his partner cuffs their suspect, Ryan checks his watch. "I've got to get to the preschool. The play starts in 45 minutes."
"I'll take you," Rick offers. "I'd love to see Sarah Grace spread her wings – leaves – whatever."
Ryan feels moisture threatening to overflow his eyes as the sunflower faithfully sings every word. Rick smiles as he gazes at his friend's joy. What could be better than a father's pride and love? There's some early video of Alexis he'll rewatch as soon as he gets home.