For the People Chapter 6

"Can I warm that up for you, Hon?" the waitress offers, holding a coffee carafe over Rick's mug.

Rick flashes her a brilliant smile. "Please. It's great coffee, even black. Do I detect a hint of Kona in the blend?"

Vi Whittington smiles back. "You've got some sharp taste buds on you. Senator Imus brought Kona back to us after he went on a fact-finding tour of Hawaii. The customers liked it so much, that he arranged for regular supplies to come in."

"That was a lovely gesture. Sounds like he's a great senator."

"He was. He used to watch out for the jobs of our guys working in the fields, and make sure they were safe and got paid good. I can tell you're not from around here. Maybe you don't know Oklahoma weather. We've always had the storms and the tornadoes. But the past few years they got worse, and people started to wonder if there was something to all the climate change talk. Some folks who had their whole trailer park wiped out went to Imus and asked if maybe the oil company was trying to cover something up. That was right before he crashed his plane. He told them he'd look into it. But after the crash, he started claiming that the climate change stuff is a hoax. He went on cable with that little guy in the bowtie and started sounding a little crazy. And then he wouldn't take meetings with anyone who wanted to talk about anything except drilling for more oil. He hasn't come here much anymore either. The guys, especially the flyboys, miss getting a chance to talk to someone with some pull, you know. Damn shame, if you'll excuse my French."

Rick nods sympathetically. "Nothing to excuse. Everyone wants to be heard, don't they?"

"You've got that right," Vi agrees. "So can I get you anything else, Hon?"

"I'm getting pretty full up, but how about a short stack for the road?"

Vi winks. "You've got it."


Kate gazes at the familiar walls of the visiting room at Rikers. She's seen them less as a DA than she did as a cop. Trips to Rikers are more the territory of the defense. She remembers her mother making a lot of them to protect the rights of her clients. But the rights Kate is trying to protect belong to the victim, not the accused.

A guard leads in a tall man with a muscular build. "Hello, Mr. Collier. Remember me?" Kate asks.

"Who could forget a fox like you, Ms. Beckett? And you're the only one who said they thought I got the short end of the stick. Not that anything's changed."

"Well, it might, Mr. Collier, if I can get your help. Did you know Alfred Baird's on trial?"

"Even in here, I could hardly miss it. So he finally found someone he couldn't bribe or intimidate?"

"At least two, Mr. Collier," Kate replies, "Gidon Shapiro and me. But I suspect that he or someone representing him has still been at work. What one of his witnesses said this morning could get him off. And I think that she might have been paid to help him out. Do you know who would have fixed that for Baird?"

"Well before I was sent here, it would have been me. But you know that, Ms. Beckett."

"Yes, I do. And I think we both know that, but for your actions, Baird would have been on trial years ago."

"No one is more pissed about the way that all worked out than I am, Ms. Beckett," Collier admits.

"So, again, with you out of circulation, who would be helping Baird out? Who would pay off a witness to screw up my case?"

"There's a guy who used to work for Baird's father, kept all the books – both sets. He has a son who wanted nothing to do with the business. But the grandson developed a thing for one of the birds in Baird's flock. He wanted in so he could snuggle into her feathers if you know what I mean. Baird started giving him jobs to do to earn his way into the nest. He would do anything Baird said, no questions asked."

"So, who is he?" Kate asks.

"What do I get out of telling you?" Collier demands.

"Seeing Baird finally get what's coming to him instead of taking the whole fall yourself."

"That would feel good but wouldn't really change anything for me. I need more," Collier insists.

"OK," Kate returns. "If what you tell me pans out, I'll see about getting you assigned to work release. You'll be able to spend five days a week behind a desk somewhere instead of with the delightful company in here. But that's the best I can do."

"All right," Collier concedes. "Any time out of here would be like a trip to Bermuda. His name is Kyle Stratford. Last I heard he lived in one of the corporate apartments in the Shelton Building on Fifth Avenue. The apartments are a tax dodge. Baird provides housing instead of salary and then writes off all the upkeep charges he pays to another one of his companies."

"Kyle Stratford, Shelton Building," Kate repeats.

"Right. And Ms. Beckett, Old Man Stratford is loyal as hell to Baird, but Kyle isn't. You convince him that he needs to save his ass, and he'll give you what you need."


Rick makes himself at home at a table in the Tulsa Main Library to examine back issues of the Oklahoman Daily. After perusing the various local papers, of which there are a surprising number, he settled on the Daily as having the best political nuggets. He's not really interested in minor scandals, but any descriptions of Imus's behavior will either support his theory or send him off in another direction. After a couple of hours, his eyes alight on the type of reporting he'd been seeking. "Senator Oral Imus spent eight hours at Tulsa Memorial Hospital's Avery Clinic today for what his aides described as a precautionary physical two months after the accidental downing of his small plane. Later an aide reported that the doctors found nothing that would interfere with Imus's ability to carry out his senatorial duties".

"And what is the domain of the Avery Clinic?" Rick murmurs to himself, consulting his laptop. "Google. Avery Clinic. Tulsa. Here it is. Avery is distinguished by a world-class neurology department, specializing in the evaluation of traumatic brain injuries. So, Senator Imus, you did get your chimes rung. And the question is, are the bells still clanging messages to you in your head." Rick brings up a profile of Imus still cached in his browser. "Hmm, senator, pilot, got all that. And how do you like to spend your time on the ground, Senator? The Living Creation Society, now what could that be?"

Rick stretches, working the kinks out of his shoulders, and checks the time on his phone, which automatically updated when he crossed time zones. Eleven-forty-five, which would make it twelve-thirty-five in NY. He might be lucky enough to catch Kate at lunch and have a few minutes to talk before they both dive back in to their respective pursuits. Kate breathlessly picks up on the third ring. "Hey, Castle."

"You sound stressed. Something happen with your case?"

"Things fell apart, and Shapiro is depending on me to help him put them back together. But I don't have time to talk about it now. Hopefully, I'll dig up something to turn the mess around by tonight. Catch you then?"

"I'll eagerly await your call."

"Great. Later."

Rick stares at the declaration of "Call ended" on his screen. Damn! Even if he was in NY, he probably couldn't help Kate much. But he wishes he were there to try.