For the People Chapter 63

Theatrical agent Max Greenblatt looks up from the papers spread helter-skelter across his beat-up desk. "Liam O'Doyle, huh? Not one of my more successful clients. I've been looking toward a revival of Brigadoon for him. He could be a shoo-in for the sword dance. But in the meantime I've been booking him as a Jedi Master doing light saber exhibition duels at cons, movie premiers, even for a few used car dealers trying to appeal to the Star Wars set. He had a big one at a con in Jersey, but I heard something stupid happened to screw it up. Someone in the audience questioned his worthiness as a Jedi or something. They got into it and security threw them both out. O'Doyle didn't get paid, and neither did I. I was pretty pissed off, but he said he was actually going to go after the guy. O'Doyle's always had a big mouth, so I thought it was just talk. Did he actually hurt someone?"

"We don't know yet. We're looking into it." Ryan explains.

"We need to talk to O'Doyle. Where can we find him?" Esposito jumps in.

Greenblatt raises his palms toward the ceiling. "You got me. Actors like him who book a gig here and there, couch surf. All I've got is a cell phone number, which he usually doesn't answer."

"We'll need that," Esposito declares.

"Sure. And if you find him, tell him that if he wants any more work he'll have to learn to keep his trap shut."

"Do you think Trehosen was the one O'Doyle got into it with, in New Jersey?" Ryan wonders as he and Esposito return to their vehicle."

"It makes sense. Trehosen messes up O'Doyle's fight and his payday," Esposito figures. "So O'Doyle goes after him for revenge. We never found Trehosen's wallet. Maybe O'Doyle took it as part of his payback."

"Or Klimick took it when he stole Trehosen's other stuff. But either way, maybe O'Doyle's a better actor than anyone gives him credit for. Trehosen's apartment didn't have any signs of forced entry. He let his killer in. And Lanie said he didn't have any defensive wounds. Suppose O'Doyle made a big show of apologizing, acting like he's presenting his sword. He stands right in front of Trehosen, a Sith lord pretending he's turned to the light. Then he cuts Trehosen's throat."

Esposito snorts. "Forget the Sith lord crap. But the rest of that tracks. Let's get Tech to ping O'Doyle's phone and bring that bozo in."


"Great. I appreciate you getting back to me this fast." Kate shoves her cell phone back into her pocket. "That was the administrator of the forum where Amelia found the post she thinks is about Jason Jordan. The screen name belongs to a Naomi Jacobs. The forum didn't have any other information except an email. She wanted to tell someone what happened or she wouldn't have posted about it. I can try emailing her and see if she's willing to talk."

"And if not?" Rick asks.

"I'll figure that out if I get there."

"You might want to use your personal email," Rick suggests. "A message from the D.A.'s office could scare the hell out of her."

"Or let her know someone's serious about going after a rapist. Still, I can go personal but let her know exactly who I am. And I can give her a number to check on me. But Babe, if Naomi gets back to me, whenever it is, no matter what we're doing, I'll want to talk to her ASAP."

Rick draws Kate into his arms. "I wouldn't expect anything less."


Naomi stares at the email from Assistant District Attorney Kate Beckett. She's heard of Kate Beckett before. She read Richard Castle's book when she did a social studies paper about William Bracken. At the time, a person as evil as Bracken seemed abstract, almost like a comic book or Bond villain. He got away with so much for so long, she didn't want to picture him as real. She could just do her assignment and forget about him. But she can't forget about Jason Jordan. Every time she closes her eyes, she can see him. She can even smell him. She wanted to throw out the clothes she was wearing when he raped her, but she was afraid her mother would see them in the trash. Her mother has enough trouble taking care of Bubbe, without worrying about her daughter. So Naomi stuffed the clothes in a bag in the back of her closet. If she talks to Kate Beckett about Jason Jordan, maybe the clothes will support her story.

But Naomi's not sure she can talk to anyone, let alone a prosecutor. Her mother would find out. Everyone at school would find out. On one of her good days, Bubbe might even find out. And if the world believes Jason instead of Naomi, then she'd be marked for life as a liar and some kind of a whore.

Even so, she's heard since she was little, when Bubbe still remembered everything, that all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. Bubbe was talking about people in Germany who turned a blind eye when Bubbe's family was shipped off to concentration camps and murdered. And Bubbe said that the phrase applied as much to women as it did to men. In Castle's book, so many people knew Bracken was evil and did nothing. And his victims, including Kate Beckett's mother, died. So Kate Beckett is out there fighting evil ones like Jason Jordan. If Naomi stays quiet and Jason rapes someone else, Naomi will be complicit, like the cops and politicians who let Bracken get away with murder. With shaky hands, Naomi begins to answer Kate's email.


"Sergeant Esposito, Detective Ryan," Wong calls from the doorway of Tech. "I pinged that phone. GPS shows it's at 650 47th Street."

"That's the Pig and Whistle," Ryan realizes. He checks his watch. "O'Doyle's probably just starting dinner."

Esposito springs from his chair. "Let's go pick him up."


"I don't know what you're talking about," Liam O'Doyle claims from his seat at the table in Interrogation. "I don't know any Alan Trehosen."

"Well that's interesting," Ryan replies, "because we have multiple witnesses who saw you get into an argument with him, an argument that cost you a paycheck."

"So that jerk's name was Alan Trehosen? To me, he was just some freak in a Jedi robe."

"But you swore you'd get back at him," Esposito points out. "That would be hard to do if you didn't know who he was."

"And you know what I think?" Ryan adds. "You decided to get your revenge in style. You took your best sword, the one made of Damascus steel. You went to Alan Trehosan's apartment, and you killed him."

"There's no way you can prove that," O'Doyle claims.

Smirking, Esposito leans across the table. "No? We have a witness that places you at the crime scene. And at this moment we have a team searching the little back room in the Pig and Whistle where you've been hanging out the past few days. And I'm betting they'll find that sword."

"And I'm sure you tried to clean it," Ryan adds. "But when a weapon, especially one with a hilt, draws a lot of blood, it's almost impossible to get rid of all of it. If the lab finds the slightest trace of Alan Trehosen's DNA, you're going away for life."

"I want a lawyer now," O'Doyle demands.

Ryan smiles. "First honest thing you said."