The Other Path

Chapter 3

Ryan and Esposito wander up as Kate and Rick stare at the murder board. "We managed to trace how the gift basket got to Arlie Spinrad," Esposito announces. "A traffic cam caught a delivery van for On-Call Messenger Service pulling up outside her building."

"Great! So who sent it?" Kate queries.

"That's where we have a problem," Ryan admits. "The basket was left at a package drop. Whoever left it ordered a pickup online. The order originated at a Java Hut and was paid for with a prepaid credit card. No way to trace it. We asked for the security video from the hut, but the cameras are set up to prevent break-ins, so it may not help much."

"Which Java Hut?" Rick inquires. "Some of them sell gift baskets as last-minute saves for guilty spouses and lovers."

"The one at Central Park West and 77th," Ryan replies.

"Mmm, that's a sizable one and close to the museum," Rick considers. "My laptop and I have wiled away a few hours there while I tried to inject a more Indiana Jones vibe into a plotline. As I recall, they do sell an assortment of coffee-themed gifts and sweets they'll put together in a basket. It helped save my ass once when I was late – very late – with a few chapters. But most of the orders are for coffee. If someone asked for a basket yesterday, a barista should remember."

Kate starts for the elevator. "Come on, Babe. Let's go find out if one does."


From behind the Java Hut counter, Kirkland Ford waves. "Hey, Mr. Castle! It's been a long time. Your usual?"

"Sure, but I'm here with Detective Beckett. We're tracking down a suspect." Rick turns to Kate. "Skim milk latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla?"

"Make it chocolate," Kate replies.

"Coming right up," Kirk responds.

"So, Kirk, what have you been up to since I was here last?" Rick inquires as the barista prepares the order.

"I snagged an internship in anthropology at the museum," Kirk announces proudly. "I start this summer."

"Following where the great Margaret Mead's feet have trod. Congratulations! What segment of humanity are you planning to study?"

"At the museum, I'll be doing whatever they tell me. But my senior thesis for Hudson U will be on the gang turf war in the nineties between Columbus and Amsterdam."

Rick nods. "The area around the skyscraper junior high."

"You should be careful up there," Kate advises.

"I will be," Kirk acknowledges, "but I have friends in the neighborhood. The gangs actually like the idea of someone writing about them, as long as, excuse me, Detective, they aren't outed to the cops. It will give them a lot of cred. But Mr. Castle said you had questions."

"Yes. Do you remember anyone ordering a gift basket yesterday?"

"Oh yeah, I remember. Usually, we have a pretty standard mix of items we put in those to make the pricing and the size come out on target. But this lady insisted that I had to stick in the almond macaroons. I had to juggle everything else to make it all add up."

Kate leans over the counter. "That sounds like she might be the person we want to talk to. Did you get a name?"

"First name only, Drew. She paid in cash, so, no credit card record. But part of my anthropology training is to pick up on physical characteristics. So I can give you a pretty good description," Kirk offers.

"Please," Kate urges.

"She was about five-eight in heels, so five-five or five-six, about 130 pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes, squarish jaw, narrow nose, narrow lips. And she had a move you'd usually see in men trying to exert dominance. She kept jingling coins in her pockets."

Kate nods in appreciation. "That's very impressive, Kirk. Anything else you can remember?"

"More of a speculation. Some of the customers who come in here, especially celebrities, will give me a false name, or even the name of someone more famous so they won't be noticed for who they are. One TV actor, kind of a cult hero, always has me call for George Clooney. Then when people look, they see it's not a superstar and don't pay attention to who it really is. But whenever someone does that, they hesitate a little before giving me a name. The woman I told you about didn't hesitate at all. I think she actually is named Drew."

Kate grins. "Kirk, are you sure you want to be an anthropologist? You'd make one heck of a cop."

"No thanks. I've been fascinated with anthropology ever since I was twelve and saw a documentary on Ashley Montagu. He used his work to try to make the world a better place. I want to do the same."

"Well, if what you've told Kate helps us catch a murderer, you're getting a good start," Rick declares. "And making great coffee doesn't hurt either."


"Women named Drew," Rick ponders from the passenger seat as Kate drives back to the precinct. "The only one I can think of offhand is Drew Barrymore – except on Buffy. Dru was short for Drusilla, the vampire who sired Angel."

"I was thinking of Nancy Drew, girl detective," Kate confides. "You know, Drew could be a family name, one our killer is proud of. That would account for not giving Kirk an alias. But either way, Tori can sort the DMV database by name, first or last, and the description Kirk gave us. If our killer has a license or ID card, she should pop."


"Her name is Drew Anniston," Tori calls from the doorway of Tech. "She lives in an apartment at 200 West 77th Street."

Rick looks up from his traditional spot next to Kate's desk. "That fits with patronizing Kirk's Java Hut." He gazes expectantly at Kate. "Another trip to the enchanting West Seventies?"

"Not yet. Anthropology's worked on this case so far. Let's see what we can dig up on Drew Anniston first."

"That would be more like archaeology," Rick quips.

"Not if I'm checking for a rap sheet." Kate starts hitting keys on her computer. "Hmm. She has a record. Nothing violent. She was suspected of being an accessory to a scheme to cheat the city out of tax revenues by undervaluing properties. But the DA dropped the case for lack of evidence."

"So she never went to trial?"

"No," Kate confirms. "It didn't get that far."

"Then correct me if I'm wrong, but if she didn't go to trial, that would mean no double jeopardy. If someone did come up with the evidence, she could be recharged."

"That's right."

"So maybe Arlie's murder had nothing to do with being trans." Rick proposes. "Maybe she had something on Drew, something Drew couldn't let come to light. That would be a stronger motive than worrying about who uses a bathroom."

Kate's chair shoots backward as she springs from her seat. "Let's go find out."


Drew Anniston's door moves slightly inward under the pressure of Kate's knock. She examines the lock. "This looks like it's been picked. She pulls her weapon. "Ms. Anniston, it's the NYPD. We need to talk to you. Ms. Anniston, I'm Detective Kate Beckett. Are you inside?"

Kate cautiously pushes the door open and takes a few steps inside with Rick behind her. He points to a large red stain spreading on the carpet and a woman's foot sticking out from behind a chair. "I'm guessing this just became a twofer."