A Murder Below Zero
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: There's zero chance that I own Castle. Rating: K Time: In an AU future.
Kate was put in the visiting officers' quarters and went to sleep almost at once. It had been a long, difficult day.
She was woken up the next morning by a knock on her door. Opening it, she found a blonde soldier standing there with a package in her hands.
"Hi, Kate. I'm Ann Hastings. Rick thought you'd be less conspicuous in uniform, so he sent me over with one for you. If this lasts any time at all, we can get you more clothes. So go to the bathroom, there are toiletries there already, get dressed and I'll take you to breakfast. Okay?"
"Okay."
Kate rushed and was ready to go in fifteen minutes. They then went to Rick's headquarters where they found a small breakfast buffet set up.
"Have breakfast, ladies." Rick said. "Then we have work to do. Kate, I had your dad put in the visiting officers' quarters as well. He's having breakfast at the Officers' Mess. Cowell was put in a holding cell and hasn't had anything to eat. I'll let her imagine the worst before we talk to her. I want to go over your dad's place, Cowell's place and Davidson's place before we talk to her or your dad. If you don't feel comfortable going to your dad's place, we can…"
"He's my dad. I don't believe he's done anything wrong, and if I'm there, I can probably help you. I'm going."
They arrived at Jim Beckett's apartment to find three soldiers standing outside. Two were Special Ops soldiers and the third was from a K-9 unit. She was a slender redhead, holding a very large dog on a leash. Kate didn't recognize the breed.
"Sally!" Rick cried out. "How's the love of my life?"
Kate was surprised at the pang of jealousy she felt. Then she saw Rick drop to one knee and put his arms around the dog, who kissed his face.
"How's my Sally? Who's a good girl? You're a good girl. Yes, Sally is a good girl."
Rick leaned closer to the dog.
"What? Rose didn't give you any dog treats after you worked so hard? Really?"
"I didn't give her any doggie treats because I knew someone would come by and spoil her by giving her way too many treats. And sure enough, here you are." Rose said, grinning.
"Spoil Sally? Nonsense. I just believe in rewarding a job well done."
Rick took a treat out of his pocket and let Sally lick it from his hand. Then he tossed one in the air and Sally caught it in mid air. Lastly, he put a treat on her nose. Sally looked at it until Rick said, "Okay, Sally."
Sally tossed the treat in the air and caught it.
"Sally didn't find anything at all in Mr. Beckett's place, Rick. It's clean."
"Well, Sally is the best drug sniffing dog there is so we know it's clean, don't we Sally."
Sally barked affirmatively.
Rick turned to the two soldiers guarding the door.
"MinSec was here with a forensic team. They found nothing. They did take his computer in to look it over. The food is nothing a man with his ration cards shouldn't have, no alcohol, and his clothes are expensive, but, again, nothing a senior lawyer shouldn't have. In short, he's very clean, boss."
"Detective Beckett and I'll take a quick look around. She might see something we'd miss."
They looked around and found nothing of interest. Then they were on to Davidson's place. There, they did find something. Many somethings.
"He has enough food here for a really nice party." Rick said. "From the labels, he gets his food from the same place Demming did."
"Boss, take a look at his liquor cabinet." Krulak said.
"Oh, my God!" Rick said. "Five bottles of San Guillermo Gold Label Rum? The whole island was flattened during Operation Flintlock. There wasn't a distillery left and no sugar cane refineries left. How did he get these?"
"Not honestly." Kate said.
Hastings came into the kitchen.
"He also used the same tailor as Demming, and he has women's wear in his closet. According to the police report, his girlfriend, the one who called this in, is six feet and a 36D. It matches the clothes I found."
"Any drugs?" Kate asked.
"I thought you'd never ask, Kate." Rick said. He held up a small plastic baggy. "One of the less common date rape drugs. This one will give the subject retrograde amnesia for about twenty four hours before it's ingested. I'd say he hadn't changed his ways, just gotten a lot more careful. We'll see if we can find his dealer. Assuming it wasn't Demming or Coonan."
Rick told his troops to lock up Davidson's apartment as a crime scene and they headed for Gina Cowell's place. They found what they'd expected to find.
"Not as much food as in Demming's place or in Davidson's." Rick said. "But high quality and enough to make the pickiest client feel his emotions had gotten therapy."
"Check the liquor cabinet." Kate said.
Rick examined the bottles.
"Good Strathclyde whiskey. Loch Uist and only eight years old, so not top of the line, but good."
They checked her clothes closet.
"Not much I'd feel comfortable wearing in public." Kate said.
"Neither would I, but she was advertising her wares. And the labels match some of the things we've seen before. Another connection."
"Aha!" Rick said. "Sally's been here. There's a nice packet of drugs on the counter, already in an evidence bag, and with the chain of custody filled out."
"Did Sally do the writing herself?" Kate asked with a grin.
"Not this time, but she's learning."
"I hope you two will be very happy together."
"We already are, Kate. We already are." He smirked.
"What's next?" She asked, changing the subject.
"I'd like to go talk to your dad again, just to make sure we have everything he knows. Then we'll talk to Cowell. She should be nervous enough by now."
Jim Beckett had little to add to his story.
"Jim, how did you arrange to buy drugs from Coonan?" Rick asked. "Not the usual chat about taxes."
Jim blushed.
"He knew I'd been looking for pixie dust. Word gets around, I guess. Mrs. Molson had tried to buy some, but she had a hard time getting around and she was always cheated when she tried to buy. Either they'd take her money, promising to come back with the drugs, and never return, or she'd get dyed sugar or something. I wasn't much better. I explained to Coonan what I was doing and he said he could get me good drugs at a reasonable price if I'd do his taxes for free. It only took one billable hour, so I agreed."
"Did he deliver the drugs in person? How was the delivery arranged?"
"I'd get a phone call every week, almost always from someone different telling me where to go. Always in the daytime and always in a crowded public place. The drugs were delivered by different people each time, usually by teenage boys, occasionally by teenage girls."
"Did you ever see Coonan after the day you did his taxes? Or have any contact with him, or anyone else other than the drug deliverers?"
"No. Never."
"Jim, Coonan is dead and two other people were also murdered who knew him, and one other person escaped assassination last night. We're going to keep you here in protective custody for a while."
Jim shook his head.
"Look, Rick, I have a job to do. If I don't show up, I could get fired, or at least be given less challenging and less remunerative work."
"Two men from MinSec's Tenth Directorate have already seen your bosses to explain that you're engaged in very important work for the Tenth Directorate and that you won't be available for a while. Your bosses completely understood."
Jim rolled his eyes.
"And when I go back to work, everyone is going to think I'm some kind of secret agent."
"Jim Beckett, international man of mystery. I kind of like it, Dad."
"Really, Katie?"
Next they went to see Gina Cowell. Rick brought her a cup of coffee and a bear claw. She had been in a holding cell all night and gobbled down the bear claw and then drank the coffee.
"Do you keep the lights on all night in these damned cells?"
Rick smiled.
"I understand that the Tenth Directorate has cells that are pitch black 24/7. Would that suit you better?"
"Look, Colonel, Detective, I want to cooperate, I really do. What do you want from me?"
"Tell me about Coonan."
"I've never met him, but I know who he is. One of Finn Rourke's goons. I only dealt with Demming."
"Okay, tell us about Demming."
"He came by my place about a year ago. Started complimenting me about what a nice place I had, how successful I was. I thought he was looking for a bribe, or maybe just a little free sex, but he just laughed. He said I had some very interesting clients and that he'd like to know more about them."
"Did he say why?" Kate asked.
"I assumed he thought they were some kind of troublemakers or maybe the Constabulary wanted to blackmail them into working for them."
"Do you think the Constabulary blackmails people?" Rick asked.
"That's basically what he was doing to me. Cooperate or have problems with the Constabulary. Oh, there was a carrot in addition to the stick. He provided me with food, booze, drugs and clothes. He also sent some business my way."
"Business? What kind?"
"New clients. Higher class clients. Richer clients."
"What kind of information did you gather? Was it about their sexual preferences?"
"That, but he wanted to know all about them. Men like to talk about themselves. Their jobs, their bosses, their underlings, their problems at work, their problems at home, their wives, their kids, their damned next door neighbor who let their dogs crap on their lawns. No matter how trivial it was, he wanted to hear it."
"How did you get the information to him?"
"After a client left, I'd write down what I'd learned. I have a damned good memory. Once a week, Demming would come by and pick up what I'd gathered. He'd also tell me that he wanted me to concentrate on certain clients. He'd give me specific directions. If some guy was having trouble with his daughter staying out late and partying, he wanted to know more. Stuff like that."
"Did you keep any copies of what you wrote for him?"
"No. He told me not to. I didn't want any trouble."
"Can you tell me the names of your clients, and any other identifying info?"
"Yes. There's a storage area in the basement of my building. I have a notebook there."
"Okay. In the meantime, just in case someone got there before us, write down everything you remember about your clients." Rick pushed a pad and pen to her. "We're going to keep you here for your own safety."
"In the holding cell?"
"We'll put you in a guarded room. Don't try to leave without my permission."
"One thing." Kate said. "Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill you?"
"No. Not at all."
When they were done, Krulak had something for Rick and Kate.
"We got an ID on our shooter last night, boss. One Frankie Velez, age eighteen, unemployed. A gangster wannabe. He hung around with the Parlier Street Goons. They thought he was a joke, according to our intel. But Tenth Directorate is having a little chat with the whole mob just in case someone decided to help him build up some street cred. It's gonna take a while."
"Okay, we're headed back to Cowell's place. She has a notebook in a storage area in the basement."
When they got there, they found out that the word they should have used was had.
"The lock's cut off and the cabinet is empty." Rick said. "Check the security cam footage and canvas the building to see if anyone saw anything."
No one saw anything and the security cams showed a man, all wrapped up against the cold, ride in on a bike, cut the lock, take out a notebook and disappear into a horde of bicyclists.
TBC