For the People Chapter 59
As Vanessa Fernito looks up from her desk, Esposito offers a robustly fragrant container of coffee. "Richard Castle sent over some of the special blend he used to keep in our break room. I thought you might like it."
"You came down here for that, Sergeant?" Fernito questions, taking the coffee.
"I came down here because I have a homicide case that looks like it hooks up with a robbery. Our vic, Alan Trehosen, was into sci-fi collectibles. But they were all missing from his apartment."
Vanessa takes a sip of her coffee, a hint of appreciation in her eyes. "There are thousands of those collectibles just on Etsy and don't get me started with eBay and conventions. Do you know what any of them were?"
Esposito pulls a copy of Trehosan's receipt from his pocket. "We know about this one. I thought you could trace it, find out where the killer might sell it."
Vanessa examines the document. "This piece is mounted and intended for display. That would imply a buyer who planned to show it off, not someone with a secret stash of stolen goods in their basement. Whoever buys it is unlikely to want stolen merchandise. That pretty much eliminates fences."
"The murderer may not have known that," Esposito suggests. "There was a whole case of stuff missing. Our vic may have just bought the phaser. The killer might have snatched it as part of the haul. So where would someone unload a whole bunch of geek stuff?"
"Geek stuff?" Vanessa repeats. "Robby the Robot from "Forbidden Planet" sold for $5.3 million. Those collectibles are big business. Most collectors buy them out of passion, but they can also be a very profitable investment. Still, if there was a 'whole load,' the easiest thing to do would be to set up a booth at a sci-fi con, but not one of the big ones. The majors have guards, some of whom are moonlighting cops and they check IDs. Many vendors there also take credit cards, which creates a money trail. You'd want one of the smaller events, doing strictly cash business. We pick up quite a few perps at gatherings like that, along with street fairs, bazaars, or anywhere money changes hands without paperwork. I keep a list." Vanessa hits a few keys on her computer. "It looks like you might luck out, Sergeant. There's going to be one called the Enchanted Exchange this weekend in the space where the old Enchanted Kingdom used to be in Soho."
"Not exactly a poor neighborhood," Esposito comments.
"No," Vanessa agrees. "Definitely a place where people will have funds they don't need for food, clothing, and shelter."
"I hear that," Esposito acknowledges. "And I owe you, Fernito."
"Send down a pot of coffee for my people, and we'll call it even."
"I'll bring it myself," Esposito promises.
Rick's strapping Lily into her swing when he hears a rap on the loft's door. He looks down at his daughter. "I wasn't expecting anyone, were you? Perhaps one of your numerous and fawning admirers."
"Ooh," Lily responds as Rick goes to check out their visitor.
"Esposito! What brings you to our humble abode?"
The cop snorts, gazing around the cavernous apartment. "Right! Castle, if this is humble, the White House is a log cabin. But I could use your help with something."
"You want me to script a performance for you and Ryan at the next NYPD talent show? I'd be honored."
"I don't need you to write anything. But you know about collecting sci-fi crap. Don't you have a life-sized Boba Fett in your bathroom?"
Rick sighs. "I wouldn't call it um, c-r-a-p, especially with little ears present, but I did. Sadly, Boba has been banished to my storage unit. Kate claimed she could feel him watching her when she – never mind. What about my predilection for collecting objects embodying endless creativity?"
"What do you know about the Enchanted Exchange?"
"That it can be a cool place to pick up some interesting things and see some interesting people. At least it was last year. I was thinking of taking Lily this year to see the cosplay. It's much higher quality than most of what you'd see on Halloween. But what interests you about the Exchange? Looking for Dr. Who memorabilia? I heard you mention the good doctor, once."
"I'm not interested in Dr. Who stuff. I watched one episode, that's all. But the perp from a robbery-murder Ryan and I are investigating might be showing up to unload stuff stolen from the vic. I was wondering if you could go with us, help us blend in to spot this." Esposito holds up his phone. "Ryan found this picture online. We think the killer might have stolen one like it."
Rick studies the image. "A display phaser. Not my thing. When it's mounted like that you can't play with it. What's the fun in that? But to each his own. Sure, I can go to the Enchanted Exchange with you, but I don't know how well you'll blend in. Maybe if we put a tattoo on your face like Chakotay on Star Trek Voyager." Rick steps back at Esposito's glare. "Maybe not. Perhaps a cloak. At least it will cover up your gun and badge. And if Ryan wears one of his sweater vests, he should blend in just fine."
Smiling, Kate waves Amelia Milcham to a seat in her office, leaving her brother Thomas standing nearby. "Amelia, thank you for coming. I know how hard it must be to relive your experience with Jason Jordan. And Thomas, I'm sure you want to support your sister. But while I'm prosecuting your case, I can't discuss any of this with you without your lawyer present. So if you could wait outside for a while or take a walk, I'll talk to Amelia. I promise I'll do my best to keep her comfortable."
Thomas looks down at his sister. "You'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine. You go. Get one of those hotdogs outside. I saw you looking at them. I'll text you when Ms. Beckett and I are done."
"All right," Thomas agrees hesitantly.
"Do you need anything," Kate asks Amelia as the door closes behind Thomas. "Water? Coffee?"
Amelia's fingertips circle her watch crystal. "I'm fine. Just tell me what you need me to do."
"You already signed a statement. I want to go over it word by word and make sure you're absolutely sure about whatever you say, and that it doesn't contradict any other evidence we have."
"What evidence?" Amelia asks.
"We have video of you on the platform in the subway. We also have video from an ATM and some store security cameras, of you running away from the park. So, we need to make sure that there isn't some tiny little thing you might have missed because you were upset, that Jason Jordan's lawyer can hang his hat on. So, let's go over everything you stated, step by step. And if you need to stop anytime to take a breather, just tell me. OK?"
"OK."
"I have more on the weapon that killed Alan Trehosen," Lanie announces to Ryan. "As I told you at the scene, a single cut from a very sharp blade severed the left carotid artery. From the angle, Trehosen was struck from the front. And the trace in the wound was from high-carbon steel known as Damascus steel. It's famous for making the very best swords."
"So the killer was standing in front of Trehosen with a high a class sword. And if Trehosen was struck on the left, the killer was probably right-handed," Ryan figures. "Any sign that the killer was tall?"
"The stroke came from slightly above, but Trehosen was only five-seven, so the killer could have been average height or a little bit more. There aren't any defensive wounds and no sign Trehosen tried to step back. He was looking right at his killer and still taken by surprise."
"So whoever it was, Trehosen probably knew them," Ryan concludes.
"Uh-hmm," Lanie agrees. "He probably did."
