The Other Path
Chapter 30
At seven am, the captain of Senator Joe Menkin's yacht sailed it in to dock at the Safe Haven Yacht Club at the foot of Avenue U. The Senator was already up, rising early to talk with contributors overseas. He couldn't officially accept their money for his campaign, but he had plenty of routes it could take to reach his coffers. Of course, there were strings attached. Most of them, Joe didn't care about. He was supposed to keep a lid on climate change legislation. He'd do that anyway. His family made a fortune in fossil fuels, and it's still a hefty revenue stream. He's not particularly concerned with supporting voting rights, either. If 'those people" voted, much of the opposing party would be out of office, and Joe's swing vote would mean nothing.
Joe clings tightly to the power that vote gives him. He can control the actions of an entire body. What could be more exhilarating than that?" He glances at his empty coffee mug. There should be a fresh pot in the galley. His cook knows well the penalty for not keeping Joe fully supplied with caffeine.
Cup in hand, the senator strides across the deck for a refill. With a whistle of air, the spear finds his body. It will take a lot of swabbing to remove the bloodstains for the boat's next owner.
Brows jump over the light in Rick's eyes. "He was killed with a spear?"
"According to Clark Murray, it was a sophisticated spear-like projectile that could have been fired from a boat or even the dock," Kate replies. "CSU is trying to figure out possible trajectories. The hit shredded Menkin's aorta. Even if he'd had immediate help, he would have bled out. As it was, his crew didn't find him for at least half an hour. Apparently, the senator was prone to angry rants, so they kept their heads down."
Rick slams his fist on the corner of Kate's desk. "And I was in a compulsory conference at Black Pawn. As usual, Gina's timing was impeccably appalling. Was there any video?"
"None. Menkin was a privacy freak. He didn't allow cameras on his yacht. The crew had to use phones without them. And the yacht club where Menkin docked doesn't allow surveillance either. The members don't like having their movements tracked."
"So the shot could have come from another boat or even the pier," Rick surmises.
"That's about the size of it," Kate agrees. "And the investigation is going to be a circus. The Senate is demanding action. And Menkin was on the Intelligence Committee, so he was privy to classified information. The FBI's already barged in."
"I suspect the whole alphabet soup of intelligence agencies has eyes on the investigation as well," Rick offers. "So, where do you come in?"
"Menkin was killed within the 12th's jurisdiction. That theoretically makes me the Homicide Squad's lead on the case. But Simmons is staying right on top of it. I have to bring anything I turn up to him immediately. And, of course, Gates wants to stay apprised. But so far, I don't have much to report. I'm trying to track down marine suppliers who might have sold that spear. I have Ryan and Esposito on it, but they haven't come up with anything yet. You want to give it a shot?"
"To investigate a mysterious weapon? Absolutely."
"Karposki's out working with Vice on a bust. You can use her computer."
Rick grins. "She must have some interesting files."
"Which are off-limits to you. I'll give you a copy of Dr. Murray's preliminary report. Go hunt a murder weapon."
With a salute, Rick springs from his accustomed seat. "I hear and obey."
Charles Loch grinds out his cigar in a heavy ashtray, more suited to the '60s. "What the f**k! Menkin's dead? He was our key to derailing the Left's agenda. If his governor selects a replacement the majority can keep in line, a reconciliation bill could sink us."
"We already have half a dozen people on it, Sir," PAC leader Fred Leitch explains. "Governor Lynch is up for re-election in the fall. If he doesn't play ball, we can cut him off."
Loch aggressively snips the end off another cigar. "Which won't help us if we don't get a friend into Menkin's seat ASAP. Who have we got?"
"With the tornadoes that wiped out a town still fresh in the voters' minds, not too many of our guys are willing to publicly buck the clean energy geeks. But Eckrich, from Michigan, is on our side of the fence, about oil, anyway. A lot of his constituents make cars that burn gasoline. If the price rises too much and fewer cars sell, they could be out of jobs. Workers out of a job tend to vote politicians out of office."
Flame flares as Loch lights his fresh smoke. "You're right about that. So get on Eckrich. We can put as many PACs behind him as it takes. If we have his vote, it won't matter who replaces Menkin. And that asshole was getting off too much on his own power. He actually took an hour to return my last call. I won't put up with that again. Make sure Eckrich understands who's in charge."
"Yes, Sir," Leitch promises. "He'll know."
Kate's questioning look greets Rick's presentation of a fresh latte. "Is this your way of telling me that you couldn't find anything?"
"Or perhaps a minor celebration that I might have. According to Murray's report, the spear's point suffered no deformation when it entered Menkin's body. I checked out spears for a Storm once. For the tip to stand up that well to impact, it would have been made out of carbon steel, like a great chef's knife. That would put the spear in the most expensive category, cutting down the list of possible suppliers. When I started checking out who had what in stock, I realized that all the spears were special order, with three to eight week delivery times, except one, from Wriggo Fine Weapons. They keep it on hand.
"However, I couldn't get any more information from the web. So, I braved the endless options of Wriggo's automatic answering system until I finally reached a manager. Unfortunately, he didn't give a damn that I'm a consultant for the NYPD. He informed me in no uncertain terms that Wriggo won't release any customer information without a court order. My writer's curiosity drove me to look into the impetus for his strong reaction. I found out that Wriggo also sells kits to make conventional guns. Apparently, some states have been trying to pass laws to ban those highly profitable items. So Wriggo is very touchy about anything that might hint of Second Amendment issues. There could be a bit of karma there. Menkin was a darling of the gun lobby."
Kate picks up her phone. "I can get that court order right now."
"Knishes?" Rick inquires.
"As high profile as the murder of a senator is, I don't think we'll need any."
"Pity. Goldstein's just started making them with cherry filling. I was looking forward to trying one myself," Rick confides. Breathing in the lingering scent of Kate's shampoo, he closes his eyes in bliss. "I do love the smell of cherries."
"If it will make you feel better, we can pick up some cherry knishes on the way home," Kate promises.
