Title: Hurricane Katrina
Chap. 21 – Moving Forward
Characters: Goren, Eames, Deakins,
Rating: K+
Next morning, Major Case Squad.
Captain Deakins was in early. Even earlier than Goren. Deakins had had his conference with the brass upstairs. They had actually spoken to Captain Raymond Martin, husband of the deceased. Martin insisted he wanted a full investigation into his wife's death. Volunteered full cooperation and access to his home and possessions. It was now up to Goren and Katayeva to investigate and bring this thing to a close. Deakins informed the two detectives as soon as they arrived.
"Step into it, detectives," ordered their Captain, "I want this thing wrapped up and put to bed as soon as possible."
Goren and Katayeva glanced at each other.
"The case is gonna go where it's gonna go, sir."
"That's fine. Just figure it out and get it off your plate."
"Got it, Captain."
At 9 a.m. they drove over to the Martin home. Captain Raymond Martin answered the door, already dressed in NYPD sweats, hair still damp as though he just had a shower. There were circles under his eyes and a mug of coffee in his hand. He waved the detectives into the living room.
Once again Goren expressed their condolences. Martin nodded.
"They won't release Caroline's body for burial until this is settled. Once Captain Deakins told me about her cancer recurring and I spoke to her doctor at Sloan Kettering, I realized that I don't know what happened at all. Figure it out. Just tell me the truth." The words came out in a rush, as though his voice would run out of steam before he finished.
Goren and Katayeva started with Raymond Martin's activities the day of his wife's death. He provided a detailed schedule, which they would have to verify. Martin understood that. Then he showed them the two computers he owned, a desktop and a laptop.
"We'll have to take these back to our tech lab," advised Katayeva, "Do you own a video camera, digital camera, MP3 player, PDA, cassette recorder, iPod™, or any other type of digital media storage or recording device, Captain Martin?"
Martin opened the top drawer of his wife's bureau and waved the detectives over. Goren pulled out a digital camera, a video camera and an iPod™ -- the model with the video screen.
"Did your wife keep a journal or diary?"
"Not that I know of."
"Photograph albums? Scrapbook?" asked Kat.
Martin walked into another room, motioning them to follow. It was a guest room, with a wall of bookcases. Must have contained thirty or forty albums. They started on what appeared to be the most recent. They found a scrapbook/album. A younger picture of Caroline Martin was in the cover photo slot. The entire album was her. From baby pictures to the most recent pix with her family at Easter. Contained her high school diploma, college sheepskins, grade transcripts, movie/theatre tickets, school IDs, old passport, old driver's licenses and car registrations.
"We're going to have to take this also, Captain," said Goren, "It will all be returned."
Martin nodded wearily.
"Do you have an answering machine?"
Martin pointed to it. Goren hit the play button. All the messages were from after Mrs. Martin's death.
"Were there any messages on here the night you found her?"
"I don't think so. I haven't deleted anything. Caroline always dealt with the answering machine."
Katayeva hit the greeting button. They listed to Caroline Martin's voice giving a generic leave a message greeting. No hint of trouble in her voice.
"Did you find any kind of note that she left?"
"Nothing."
"Was your wife taking any medications? Prescription or non-prescritption?"
"She took thyroid daily and a calcium supplement. They're in the basket on the kitchen counter."
"Where did your wife work?"
"She's a librarian. Queens County public library, Astoria branch."
"We'd like to speak with your children. Are they here?"
"They came in late last night. Let me see if I can wake them."
Martin went up a flight of stairs and they could hear voices as he woke his kids.
"We have to visit her library, Kat."
"Yeah, check her work computer and all the public computers, if need be. That's going to go over well."
A few minutes later Martin reappeared with his son and daughter in tow, dressed in the sweats they had slept in. They had the same circles under their eyes. And no information of any value to offer.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Captain. I have to remind you that we will be taking a thorough look at your finances, speaking with your friends and neighbors."
"I don't like it, detective, but I understand it. I know the drill."
"One last question, sir. Can you think of anyone would might want to harm your wife?"
Martin looked surprised.
"Uh…no. Not at all."
"We'll be in touch, sir. Thank you for your cooperation."
The two detectives put all the stuff they had gathered in the back of the Chevy Blazer, then drove back to One P.P.
"Well, that went better than I expected," commented Kat.
Goren just nodded. He was quiet on the ride back, leaning his seat back, closing his eyes. Katayeva recognized that her partner was thinking and left him to it. She just concentrated on getting them back safely.
Back at One P.P.
"OK, what's the scoop?" asked Deakins.
"The evidence clerks downstairs are logging in all the stuff we took. Primarily electronics, computers," explained Goren, "According to Captain Martin there was no suicide note. Everything should be up here by the time we return from lunch."
"Eat hearty. You're gonna need it," as Deakins strode back into his office.
"You heard the boss," said Kat, "Let's get some lunch. We need brain food. Lots of it."
Goren nodded and the duo headed out to a local diner. As the detectives read over the menu, Kat caught Bobby looking at her.
"If you order pastrami, I'll have to shoot you," warned Katayeva, giving Goren a look.
"God, you are a pain in the ass," snickered Goren.
"Sure beats a pain in your chest, Mr. Heartburn."
"How's a cheeseburger and French fries?"
"You enjoy defiling your body, don't you?" grinned Kat.
Goren just rolled his eyes.
"Can you ditch the fries? A major high glycemic food, guaranteed to make you blood sugar skyrocket, then crash. Plus it's deep fried, heaven forbid. How about a nice mixed greens salad? And a side of ratatouille?"
"Ratatouille? The mixed vegetables with the eggplant and stuff?"
"You actually know what it is? Amazing. But will you eat it?"
"Sure….uh, what are you having?"
"Asian sesame salmon stir fry and the salad. Brain food."
"At least you practice what you preach," sighed Goren.
"Did you think I was ordering the Southern fried chicken and hush puppies?" snorted Kat.
"A man can hope," grinned Bobby, "Maybe I could've stolen some of it off your plate."
The waitress took their orders.
"Any opinions on where this Martin thing is headed, Goren?"
"My uh….crystal ball is on the fritz."
"So that is the secret of your success….a crystal ball? And all this time I thought you just pulled 'em out of a top hat," laughed Katayeva,
Their food arrived. The detectives chowed down. Goren ate every morsel on his plate. Speared some of Kat's salmon, too, to give it a try. They had fresh fruit salad again for dessert.
"Back to the sweat shop," said Katayeva.
Everything they had taken from the Martin household was now in a conference room. Kat took off her blazer, hung it on the back of her desk chair. Goren removed his suit jacket, did the same, rolled up his shirt sleeves, took off his tie. Both were surprised when they glanced at the other.
"Great minds think alike," chuckled Goren.
"Or we just know enough to get comfortable because we're gonna be here a long time."
"I prefer my version."
The two detectives got down to business in the conference room. Goren took the desktop computer, Katayeva the laptop. The techies had already provided the necessary hookups to run everything.
" Shit…There's a couple of software programs on the laptop that destroy the user's tracks. Window Washer™ erases your Internet history, address bar, cache, cookies. Hard Disk Scrubber™ permanently deletes deleted files so they cannot be recovered. Both are set to run automatically every day. If Caroline Martin didn't deliberately leave it on here, we won't be seeing it."
"Those two programs are on this pc also," sighed Goren.
"We can still view the browser's bookmarks. There are two browsers on here, Internet Explorer and Firefox."
They viewed the bookmarks. The Queens Public Library home page, police associations, law enforcement journals, their bank and investment companies, other libraries, assorted electronic databases/subscriptions, librarian associations, etc. Nothing re suicide.
They examined every file created with Microsoft Office™ programs. Recipes, copies of web forms, motor vehicle online registration form, Christmas card list, gift list, wireless manual, digital camera manual, law enforcement articles. Nothing of value.
They checked the My Pictures files. The laptop contained photos from a television show, one of those popular detective programs. Lots of photos of the star plus the other actors, all in character.
"Any photos of Vincent D'Onofrio on the other pc?" asked Katayeva.
"D'Onofrio? That hammy actor from the unrealistic cop show? Nope, not here. Only a some pix of the kids, vacations, someone's first communion, a wedding."
"Mrs. Martin apparently was a big fan. There's nearly a hundred pictures of him on her laptop. Her screensaver is a slideshow of the collection."
"No accounting for taste," snorted Goren.
"I think he's cute," grinned Kat, "He has that big cuddly teddy bear quality. Women love that."
Goren pretended to gag himself by putting two fingers down his throat. Katayeva just laughed.
"Glad you two find this case so amusing," said Deakins, now standing in the doorway.
"Apparently Caroline Martin had a thing for a TV detective," said Goren.
"Define had a thing."
"There are over a hundred photos of the guy on her laptop. She used them for her screensaver, running as a slide show," added Katayeva.
"Was she stalking him? Having an affair with him?"
"We have no reason to think that."
Deakins just threw up his hands and walked back to his office.
Goren and Katayeva went through every file on the two computers. Came up with zilch.
Kat stood up and stretched.
"Snack time," she said as she tossed a large red apple to her partner.
"You're like a walking supermarket, Kat. You've always got food."
"You're like a walking teenage boy. You'll eat anything that crosses your path."
"I am a growing boy," grinned Goren.
Katayeva just rolled her eyes.
"I already ordered all the financials, and insurance info," said Goren, "Printed out the property records, law suits and news articles from Westlaw™."
"OK, you start reading. I'm trying another angle."
Goren raised his eyebrows at her. She shrugged and continued tapping on the laptop's keyboard.
"The Martins are very comfortable financially. He's been on the force for over thirty years. Nice pension, 401-k's, IRA's. They've invested wisely. Both kids nailed some scholarship money for college. She's been a librarian for ten years. Her life insurance through work is only double her salary, just over one hundred thousand. He has plenty of money. Doesn't need to kill her for insurance. Mortgage is paid off. Cars are paid for, credit cards always paid in full each billing cycle. No other debt. No evidence of gambling or drug use for either of them," rattled off Bobby.
"In spite of our cardinal rule, sometimes it's not about money or sex," observed Kat.
"No withdrawals from any accounts. Joint checking account was handled by the wife. Just a repetition of their usual monthly bills. Nothing funky on the credit cards," added Goren, gesturing with his left hand, "If either one of them has a lover, they sure aren't spending any money on her or him."
Katayeva looked at her watch. Ten of five.
"My eyes are crossed. How about you?"
Goren's elbows were resting on the table, his chin on his right hand. He let out a sigh.
"That's what I thought. Let's pick this up tomorrow a.m."
Goren nodded and the two of them walked back to their desks. Deakins caught them.
"Well?"
"We'll resume first thing in the morning, Captain."
"Good night, detectives."
"So, what were you looking for while I was doing the financials?" asked Goren as they headed to the elevators.
"Not sure," grinned Katayeva, "Haven't found it yet. I need to think about it. Just like...you do. I'll tell you tomorrow."
"Fair enough," granted Goren.
That evening at the Kennedy/Katayeva household.
The kids were in asleep. Kat and her husband were in bed, each with their laptop. He was researching Asian bond market offerings; she was reading fiction online.
I wonder if Caroline Martin ever wrote any of this stuff. Jeez, there are thousands of stories in the archives of that show D'Onofrio's on. Don't these people have lives? Jobs? Where do the get the time to write this stuff? Twenty chapters. Forty chapters. At least there's a summary for each story. God help me if I had to read through all this stuff.
Kat read through about fifty summaries before quitting for the night. As soon as she closed her laptop, her husband took his cue and shut his also. He picked up both laptops and placed them on the bureau. Returned to bed, turned out the light, cuddled up with his wife. She barely whispered good night. Exhaustion had set in. Kat was asleep in minutes.
That evening at Eames' apartment.
"So, Bobby, she's got an idea and hasn't shared it with you yet?"
"Yeah."
"How does it feel to be on the outside looking in?"
"Huh? What?"
"I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what is going on in your head. Serves you right to have the tables turned on you for a change," chuckled Eames, as they spooned under her floral cotton quilt.
"Hmph…," grumbled a tired Goren.
"Good night, Bobby."
"Mmm…good night, Eames," as he pulled her closer to him.