For the People Chapter 83

Horace Shuck looks up from his desk as Lenny Felsher drags into his office. "We should be celebrating a solution to the Castle-Beckett situation. So why do you look like we've been hit with an IRS audit?"

"We are being hit with an IRS audit," Felsher announces. "The notice just arrived. But that's not the worst of our problems. A call just came in from Neighspec. The operative they sent to New York vanished."

Shuck leans across his desk. "What do you mean vanished?"

"They can't reach him by phone, text, email, nothing. Some of his things are still at his hotel, but they have no idea where he is. And Castle and his family are all just fine. Kate Beckett is due in court today, and James Beckett is in his office. Neighspec thinks the family has some kind of guardian angel, the kind that sends sinners to Hell, and that he took their guy out of the picture. And they don't want any more screw-ups. So they're re-thinking their plans for New York – the whole country, actually. And those plans may not include us."

"Not include us! Who's supposed to manage their properties?"

"That's just it. There may not be any properties to manage. They're talking about unloading them at a loss, maybe even donating them to some foundation to provide affordable housing. They'll look like heroes again and use their losses or donations to wiggle out of their taxes. Win-win!"

Shuck sinks into his well-padded chair. "Not a win for us. We stood to make out big on management fees. Now we'll be getting zip."

"I can take a page from Neighspec's book and use the losses to offset our taxes," Felsher suggests. "And we can concentrate on our other ventures. The oligarchs have been scrambling to pull their money out of their country and invest it in any way they can. Apparently, they think the Kremlin is about to start another war. After the debacle in Afghanistan, they want their assets in western countries where they can't be clawed back. We can scavenge a lot of coins from that laundry."

"Until the Southern District makes us turn out our pockets," Shuck replies grimly. "The U.S. Attorney there's been going after Russian deals for years. Maybe it's time to grab what we can and find some real estate where there's no extradition treaty."

"We'll lose a lot if we cash out now," Felsher warns.

Shuck massages the back of his neck. "But if we don't we could lose everything."


Kate's eyebrows jump in surprise as she opens the door to the loft. "Hey, Dad! I didn't know you were coming."

"It was one of my rare impulses," Jim Beckett admits. "But I just got an inquiry that I wanted to share with you and Rick."

"Rick's in the rocker in the nursery telling Lily one of his weird versions of a fairy tale. It may be the rocking, but those stories usually put her to sleep. He should be finished soon."

"Finished now," Rick announces, striding into the great room. "Lily is in the arms of Morpheus, which is where I'll be if I don't get some coffee. Anyone joining me? Kate? Jim?"

"I'll take some," Kate volunteers.

"I'd love the coffee, but what I have to tell you should wake you up," Jim explains. "Neighspec is looking to start a foundation to ensure affordable housing in their properties and others in the city, and they want to know if I'd be willing to set it up and run it."

Rick glances around the cave-like space. "Neighspec wants to provide affordable housing? Did we just step through a portal to an alternate universe? Wait! I want to check that the coffee hasn't been replaced by one of Mother's wheatgrass smoothies or something." Rick half-runs to the coffee pot and holds it up for a look. "This still appears to be coffee." He inhales deeply. "And it smells like coffee. Perhaps Neighspec is under alien mind control."

Jim chuckles. "I believe the explanation is less interesting than that. Neighspec was facing a long drawn-out battle with a multitude of possible plaintiffs. Even if it prevailed, it would have spent a fortune on legal fees, as well as accumulating a lot of bad will from the citizens of New York. This way, its costs are minimal, and it earns tons of goodwill. Any investments it can make without turning people out on the street will be viewed favorably by both the City Council and the press. In the end, Neighspec should at least break even and might even come out ahead. And if I have anything to say about it, the people of New York will definitely come out ahead."

Rick fills three mugs. "How about Neighspec's frontman, Brown Rock? It's tangled up in Neighspec's endeavors, and not in a good way. Will it continue to manage the properties?"

"Neighspec hasn't said much about Brown Rock except that they're not included in the proposal. I suspect," Jim offers, "that Neighspec is letting its former co-conspirator fend for itself."

Rick takes an appreciative sip of dark brew. "Brown Rock won't be too happy about that."

"No," Jim agrees, "I imagine not. You've been quiet, Katie. What do you think?"

"I'm quiet because I don't know anything for a fact. But I did hear a rumor that Brown Rock is under investigation by the DOJ, possibly for tax fraud. But if there is an investigation, the lid is on it pretty tight. Still, I can think of a lot of things I'd rather be right now than an executive at Brown Rock."

"I can't see why anyone would want to be an executive at Brown Rock at any time," Rick quips. "But that's just me. Anyone want cookies to go with the coffee?"

"Finelli's dark chocolate double dipped?" Kate asks hopefully.

Rick pulls her against his side. "How could I offer the love of my life anything less?"


"All rise. Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Bingham presiding," the clerk announces, while the jury box is still empty.

With a red-tinged nose, Larissa Bingham takes her seat behind her bench. "Mr. Gil, are you ready to proceed with the defense?"

"No, Your Honor. Ms. Beckett and I have reached an agreement on a plea."

Bingham shifts her gaze to Kate. "Do you confirm, Ms. Beckett?"

"I do, Your Honor. Mr. Gil and I reached an understanding before court this morning."

"And just what understanding did you reach?"

"Ms. Martinez will plead guilty to the charge of first-degree murder, with a sentence recommendation of 25 years to life and the possibility of parole."

Judge Bingham stares at Yesenia. "Ms. Martinez, do you understand that by accepting this agreement, you can make no appeals? You will spend at least the next 25 years behind bars before you have even the opportunity to petition for parole, and it will be completely at the discretion of the parole board to grant it."

Yesenia's voice quavers slightly. "Yes, Your Honor. I understand."

"And you will also be required to elocute to the details of your crime, offering the court a narration of precisely what you did, how, when, and where," Bingham adds.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Then contingent on appropriate elocution, your plea is accepted," Bingham declares. "Mr. Gil, how much time does your client need to prepare her narration?"

Gil and Yesenia confer in whispers before he turns back to the judge. "Ms. Martinez can be ready to proceed tomorrow morning, Your Honor."

"Then I'll hear it at nine am tomorrow." Bingham grabs a tissue from a box on her bench. "Court is in recess until then." Hurrying toward her chambers, she blows her nose as she goes.