For the People Chapter 65

With a satisfied smile, Perlmutter rocks forward on the balls of his feet. "I have the cause of death for your mariachi trumpeter. Mr. Martinez went into anaphylaxis after exposure to huitlacoche."

"Hooey what?" Ryan asks.

"Huitlacoche," Esposito explains, "Mexican truffle, expensive stuff."

"It's a fungus that grows on corn," Perlmutter continues. "Normally it's quite safe to eat and in fact more nourishing than corn itself. It's used like mushrooms. Unfortunately, for Mr. Martinez, it wasn't safe for him."

"I didn't see anything like that on the menu at Casa Maria," Ryan recalls. "How did he get it?"

Perlmutter's smile widens. "Now that's the interesting thing. There were traces of it on his lips in a circular pattern. So I had the lab check his trumpet. Someone put huitlacoche oil on the mouthpiece. Geraldo Martinez was murdered."

"And by someone close enough to him to know about his allergy," Ryan realizes.

"We need to pull in all the members of that mariachi band and start asking questions," Esposito declares.


With Lily babbling happily in her stroller, Rick joins Kate in her office. "Lily and I were at the market, and they had those purple grapes you love. So we thought we'd bring you some to nibble on while in pursuit of your prosecutorial duties. "What are you staring at so intensely?"

Kate looks up from her laptop. "Postings from Amelia Milcham and my other witness against Jason Jordan. They're warning other young women like them to be wary of men like Jason and urging them to come forward if they've been attacked. They're also giving contact information for the DA's office."

"Have you seen any responses yet?" Rick inquires.

"Not directly from the women. But we had an email come in from a rape crisis center saying they have a victim who might want to talk. We have a tentative meeting later today at the center. It's a less intimidating environment than here."

"Almost anywhere would be a less intimidating environment than offices of a District Attorney," Rick offers, "except for a police station or a courtroom. But it sounds like you're in for a rough afternoon."

Kate sighs, flipping her computer shut. "Not as rough as for the victim, if she decides to go through with coming forward. But thanks for the grapes. I can use the energy." Kate bends over the stroller to unstrap her daughter. "And I can use a Lily hug, and a Richard Castle hug too."

Rick presses his lips to Kate's neck. "I enthusiastically deliver the source of the former and offer an unlimited supply of the latter."


Ryan regards the members of the mariachi band, seated in the conference room for lack of space in Interrogation. "You want to question them all at once or one at a time?"

"If we do it all at once, they'll be able to keep their stories straight," Esposito decides. "We'll do it separately and see where the holes are. But it will be faster if we use both boxes. I'll take the guitar player, you take the other trumpet guy. He speaks good English. We can let the violins and maracas cool their heels until we're done with their pals."

"All right," Ryan agrees. "First one to come up with a suspect buys lunch?"

"As long as you don't go for any bean burritos. How does Jenny let you eat those poison gas bombs?"

"She doesn't," Ryan confides. "That's why I buy them off the truck here."


Esposito stares across a metal table at Gabriel Gonzales. "How long have you known Geraldo Martinez?"

"About a year. The band had another trumpet player. But he got a job playing for Josh Groban making a lot more money than he could playing at restaurants like Casa Maria. So we hired Geraldo. We all liked him. And he was maravilloso with his trumpet. He never hit a wrong note until just before he died. He's going to be hard to replace."

"And outside of work, how well did you know him?" Esposito asks. "Did you go out for a beer or watch games together?"

"Not really. He said he had to go home after our gigs, something about family responsibilities."

"What responsibilities?" Esposito asks. "As far as we know, Geraldo wasn't married, and he lived alone."

Gabriel throws up his hands. "He didn't say. He was always on time for work but left right after."

"Did he ever mention a girlfriend or anyone like that?" Esposito presses.

"No. We talked about the music and sometimes about the food or the customers. But that was it. Whatever private life he had, he kept private."

"When you talked about food, did Geraldo ever say there was anything he couldn't eat?"

"Now that you ask, he mentioned huitlacoche once and said he couldn't get near it. But it wasn't a problem. We never worked anywhere high class enough to serve the stuff."


Luiz Morales drums his fingers on the edge of a table as he faces Ryan. "I have to get home. My wife and I have four kids, and she works days. So I have to be there when they get back from school."

"I have kids too," Ryan sympathizes. "I understand. I'll try not to keep you too long."

"Please. The last time I was a little late I found peanut butter on the ceiling."

Ryan opens a folder. "Then let's get right to it. How well did you know Geraldo Martinez?"

"Not well at all. I tried to talk to him about my family. I mean kids are always doing something, right? My oldest one is the best player on her soccer team. And my youngest is getting into T-ball. Gabriel said he had family responsibilities, but he never said more than that. He didn't show pictures on his phone or anything. After work, he just went home."

"Is there anything else you can tell me about him? Did he have any weird habits?"

"It's not that weird, but he never tried to leave a gig so fast that he didn't clean his trumpet. And he had a special cloth he always used on the mouthpiece. He said it was his good luck charm. But lots of musicians have habits like that. If you don't take care of your instrument, you're out of a job and out of luck."

"How about food? He worked in restaurants. Was there anything he had a problem with?"

"No, I don't think – oh, he mentioned something about corn truffle once. I guess that's unusual. But it wasn't really a problem. If he ate on a break, he'd usually stick to chile relleno or fajitas. And he'd dig into a flan. But he never got near anything that fancy." Luiz checks his watch. "Can I go now? I really have to get home."

"Sure," Ryan agrees. "But let us know if the band has to go out of town."

"Are you kidding? With everything my wife and I have to do to take care of the kids, I'm not going anywhere."

Ryan hands Luiz his card. "I feel you. But if you think of anything else about Geraldo, give me a call."

Luiz tucks the card into his pocket. "Yeah, sure."


Kate gets off the subway at the stop nearest the rape crisis center. She could have taken a cab, but with the traffic at that time of day, the subway was faster. The sign on the door is subtle, reading only "Regional Center." At least the clients don't need to be afraid of being spotted entering the building. As she pulls open the door, Kate just wishes the center was unnecessary. Getting a predator like Jason Jordan off the streets will only be a drop in the bucket. But it will be better than nothing.