Under and Over Chapter 56
"So where to now?" Rick asks as Kate steers her unit into traffic.
"The Empire State Reporter. Personnel may know how to contact Oswald Poindexter's next of kin. His editor may have some idea what story he was working on. And I'd like to get a look at any notes or files he may have left at the office."
"I doubt you'll find much, Kate. Small operations like that don't maintain much in the way of office space. The writers work out of their homes and transmit online. An address for Oswald might yield more fruit. Can you run his DMV?"
"I can have Ryan run it while we're on our way to Empire State. They should also have an address. In any case, now that I have an ID, I need to do a notification."
Rick glances sympathetically toward Kate. "The hardest part."
"But necessary. And someone close to Oswald might also have some insight into his work. Still, I'm hoping we learn enough at Empire that I don't have to press too hard."
Rick's assertion that the Empire State Reporter wouldn't maintain much office space turns out to be an understatement. The storefront holds three desks with computers, an array of filing cabinets, a table with a copy machine and several printers, and not much else. With Rick a step behind, Kate approaches the desk nearest the entrance and holds up her badge. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett. I'm looking into the death of Oswald Poindexter."
The woman behind the desk gasps. "Oswald is dead? What happened?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out Ms….?"
"Lincoln, Roberta Lincoln, Robbie. Does Oswald's sister, Sarah, know?"
"I was hoping that you or other staff of the Reporter might be able to direct me to his next of kin. Is that his sister?"
"As far as I know. His mother passed away a year ago. I think he has, had, an ex-wife somewhere, but he never said much about her."
"So do you have Sarah's address?" Kate prompts.
Robbie swipes her hair back with her forearm. "Yes, of course, it should be in Oswald's emergency info." Robbie gets up and pulls a folder from a nearby cabinet. "Here it is. I'll make you a copy."
"Paper files," Rick notes. "In many places, they're almost extinct."
Robbie looks up at him. "You're Richard Castle. I should have known when Detective Beckett introduced herself or recognized you from your book jackets. I'm sorry. I'm really bad with faces, something about seeing them with the wrong part of my brain. But I'm great with print. I just read Heat Wave and Naked Heat. I loved them. I'm waiting for the next one."
"Always pleased to meet a fan, Robbie, but I was wondering about the files. Did Oswald Poindexter keep his here?"
"We mostly just got copies of his stories. He kept almost all the notes for what he was working on at home or with him. He always had a notebook, sometimes two or three. He joked he was old school, but that at least paper is recyclable."
"It sounds like you knew him well," Rick offers.
"As well as anyone," Robbie considers. "He kept to himself a lot. But sometimes he talked about the stories he got all over the world. I would have been terrified of getting shot or blown up in the places he went. But I think he loved it. He sounded like it."
"Do you know why he quit overseas work?" Rick inquires.
"When I asked, he just said family obligations. He wouldn't go into any more than that. But the last time I saw him he said he was after a story more like what he got in the old days. Detective Beckett, do you think that story could have gotten him killed?"
"I don't know," Kate admits. "But I intend to try my best to find out."
"We'd like to look at whatever files Oswald did leave here," Rick requests. "Even if they weren't for what he was working on when he died, they might give me some idea about the way he attacked a story."
"I'll need to ask Mr. Bennett. He owns this place. He's old school too. He told us he's not taking any calls or texts to his cell unless the Reporter is burning down. But he should be in after lunch. I can ask him then."
Kate hands Robbie her card. "Please let me know as soon as Mr. Bennett shows up."
"I will," Robbie promises.
"I was afraid something had happened," Sarah Gilmore confides. "Ozzie would call to check in every day, and I haven't heard from him in three. And I always worried something would go wrong with his heart again. Did it?"
"In a way," Kate explains gently. "The medical examiner believes something interfered with his pacemaker. And it appears that may have been done deliberately. Can you think of anyone that would want to hurt your brother?"
"Lots of people. He exposed political corruption and terrorists. He wrote about wars that dictators denied were happening. But that was all before he came back to New York to help our late mother and me. Mother had a disease. It's genetic and incurable. I have it too, but for now, it's progressing slowly."
"How about Oswald?" Rick asks.
"Men are less susceptible, something about hormones and the environment. He got lucky. But he decided to stay in New York to take care of Mother and, he thought, eventually me. My husband took off years ago when I was first diagnosed, and we had no children. Ozzie and I just had each other. He found out about the problem with his heart not long after he moved back to New York. He passed out on the subway platform. But he told me he thought he was lucky he didn't fall on the tracks, and he'd be fine with his pacemaker."
"The medical examiner told me that normally he would have been," Kate confirms. "Sarah, did Oswald tell you anything about a story he was working on now, maybe about pesticides in water?"
"Not that, exactly," Sarah recalls. "He did say something like hormones and the environment might be killing other families. But he kind of grumbled it under his breath. He did that sometimes before he'd change the subject. Does that help?"
"It might," Kate allows. "Did Oswald keep his notes for his stories in his apartment?"
"That's practically all he kept in his apartment. I wasn't there much because almost every space was filled with them. But I have his emergency key, Detective, if you need to get in and take a look."
"That would be very helpful, Ms. Gilmore," Kate responds. "Is there anything we can do for you before we leave? Call someone? A friend? Clergy?"
"I can manage, Detective. Whatever Ozzie may have thought, I got very good at managing while he was off trying to save the world. Just find out who killed him."
"I'll do my best, Ms. Gilmore."
Rick surveys Oswald's ancient apartment in the East Village. As with others of the era, the bathtub is in what passes for a kitchen. It's surrounded by notebooks. "Sarah wasn't kidding. These are like the composition books I used to carry around to write in before I got my first laptop. There must be hundreds of them here."
"We just need the one Oswald was writing in before he died. See if you can find it," Kate instructs.
"God," Rick mutters, "I hope he dated them."