The Other Path
Chapter 64
As Ryan pillows his head on his arms, Esposito taps him on the shoulder. "Hey, Bro, Gates is making the rounds this morning. You don't want her to see you like this. Didn't you sleep last night?"
"Jenny was having a hard time getting comfortable, which means I didn't sleep either. Then at midnight, she sent me out for Yoo-hoo. I didn't even know she liked it. We never had it in the house. But that's what she wanted. So I went to three different stores to find it."
"When's all this pregnancy stuff supposed to be over?"
"She's supposed to be due in two months. But it's going to be a long 60 days. After that, we'll still be up with the baby, but at least the department allows paternity leave now."
"Well, try to get it together, Man. You could make one of those triple espressos Beckett loves. But I haven't seen her drinking any lately."
"She's not obsessing over an open case the way we are. Maybe she's getting more sleep," Ryan suggests, rubbing his eyes.
"With her husband just out of the hospital?" Esposito questions. "Don't women stay away from caffeine when they're pregnant?"
"They're supposed to. Wait, you don't think?"
"Look. Beckett takes an assignment that keeps her off the street. That's not the Beckett we know. Except for a few months after she got shot, she's been fearless. She was always telling Castle to stay back, trying to protect him. But she was the first one through the door."
"So now you think she's holding back to protect a baby?" Ryan questions.
"It makes sense."
"And Beckett's not exactly a sharer. She wouldn't tell us until she had to."
"So, what do we do?" Esposito wonders.
"Nothing. If there's anything I know," Ryan declares, "it's that pregnant women do things their own way. Men just have to go with the flow."
"Then you'd better get flowing. Gates is headed this way, and she'll want to know where we are with Berensen."
Ryan pushes out of his chair. "How about on our way out to question the staff at the Roosevelt about whom they saw going up to the roof?"
"With you, Bro."
"I don't want no trouble," Rosita insists. "I clean up. I make beds. I mind my own business."
"No queremos causarte ningún problema." Esposito replies. "All we need to know is if you saw people going up to the roof.
"Si, sometimes," Rosita admits.
Ryan holds up a picture of Ted Berensen. "This guy?"
"Si, many times."
Esposito shows her his phone, displaying an image of Marty Levine. "How about him?"
"Si. Sometimes they were together. Pero no últimamente."
"Not lately," Esposito translates.
Ryan holds up a picture of Philo Berman. "How about him?"
"No. Pero lo vi en las películas."
"You saw him in the movies, so you would have recognized him. Anyone else?"
"A woman."
Ryan pulls out his ever-present notepad. "What did she look like?"
"Cincuenta tal vez. Rubio. Ella cojeaba."
Esposito nods. "Maybe fifty. Blonde. She limped. ¡Genial! Muchas gracias."
"Sounds like we go back to the cards for women," Ryan remarks. "If we run DMVs, any fiftyish women should pop. At least we'll have something to tell Gates."
Kate hangs up her phone. The call should have been a hard one. But she didn't encounter grief from the widow of one of Munchhausen's victims, merely relief. Kate has heard it before in women she's arrested for taking their husbands out. In the case of abusers, it might even have been justified. But this one had been particularly bone-chilling. She could imagine that if she'd had video, she would have seen the woman's eyes glowing. She might even have concluded that the widow hired the killer. But Kate knew she didn't. It had been a business partner.
Still, for a woman to hate her husband that much makes Kate queasy. Or maybe she would be anyway. The smells wafting from Rick's gift to the break room were driving her crazy this morning. But to suggest removing the machine would be cruel to her co-workers. Hell, it would probably cause a rebellion. At least she can go back to the loft over lunch. Rick immediately shuts down coffee production when she's around.
Kate greets her husband with a heartfelt kiss.
"Not complaining, mind you, but what was that for?" Rick inquires.
"Because I love my husband."
"Good to know. More Munchhausen?"
"Uh-huh. What have you been up to?"
Pride lights Rick's face. "My morning was extraordinarily productive. I finished writing a chapter of my American novel and a chapter of my next Heat. Also, Alexis took me for a walk. I made it to the pocket park. Of course, on reaching my goal, I spent the next twenty minutes on the nearest bench. But it was still a triumph."
"Yes, it was," Kate agrees. "Are we celebrating?"
"We are. I ordered Dragon Garden's fried rice special, which should be OK on both of our lists. The delivery should be arriving momentarily. And we have hot water if you want to make tea. Alexis brought some blueberry acai stuff that is remarkably palatable."
"I think I'll stick with chocolate milk."
Rick suppresses his flinch. "Whatever floats the pregnant lady's boat."
Ryan points at an image on the computer screen in the bullpen. "Maris Schrader. Fifty-two and blonde. Too bad the DMV doesn't include limps in its descriptions, but that's got to be her."
"We can go back and check it with Rosita," Esposito figures. "Schrader's address isn't far from the Roosevelt. We can catch her, easy."
"She might be at work or something," Ryan suggests.
"Then we can stake her out. And maybe you can catch a couple of winks Gates won't know about."
"Thanks, Bro."
"Men gotta stick together, right? So let's go."
Ryan stretches to allay his stiffness from falling asleep in the unit's passenger seat. "Any sign of Schrader?"
"Not yet, but if she does the nine to five thing, it will still be a while. You know you were talking in your sleep?"
"I was? What did I say?"
"It sounded like breathe, push, over and over."
"Yeah. Jenny and I took childbirth classes before Sarah was born. But I never got to use them. You and I were stuck under a burning building while Jenny was in labor."
"As if I'd forget that."
"But anyway, we started the classes again a month ago for a refresher. I've got all that stuff running around in my brain."
"Then get the job running around your brain. I think Schrader's coming this way."
Ryan follows his partner's gaze. "Yeah, that's her, limp and all. Let's go."
"Ms. Schrader," Ryan calls, "NYPD, we'd like to talk to you." Maris glances quickly at the two detectives before taking off at a run. "Why do they always run?"
Despite her limp, Maris Schrader makes rapid progress down the sidewalk, but she's no match for Esposito's powerful sprint. He blocks her way with Ryan behind her. "My partner said we wanted to talk. Why did you run?"
"I haven't done anything," Maris protests.
"Maybe, until you started running," Ryan points out. "Evading a peace officer is a crime."
We could cuff you and take you in for that right now." Esposito continues.
" Or, you can come to the precinct willingly and answer our questions," Ryan adds. "Your choice."
