Flu

Chapter 27

An email alert on Kate's computer jerks Rick's attention away from his phone. "Is that the report from Osnitz on the link?"

Kate moves her cursor over the newly arrived document. "Give me a chance to look, Babe. Uh-huh. The metal was cut with a tool consistent with a hacksaw. That matches what Lanie said about the victim. There's a good chance that our killer was the same person who sabotaged the swing."

Rick closes his eyes, a story coming together in his mind. "The ice cream truck is parked by the curb, attracting a few buyers and keeping the killer from his mission. It's not all bad. He can purchase his favorite, a Fudgy-Bar, to eat while he waits for a clear shot at the park and the swings. He tears off the wrapper, licking up a bit of melted fudge before dropping it on the grass. Shame! He's not only a killer and despoiler of play equipment; he's a litterbug.

"Finally, when the truck pulls away, and the pocket park seems deserted, the murderer takes the opportunity to saw through a link. He wants to make a deeper cut, so it will give way at the weight of a child, something every media outlet in the country would jump on. But he's surprised by a homeless man, looking for unfinished snacks or anything he can use to make his life more comfortable.

"The saw wielder chases him, catching and killing him with his hacksaw, at almost the exact spot where he'd enjoyed his Fudgy-Bar, minutes before. He looks down at his clothes and shoes, flecked with tiny spots of blood, and doesn't dare finish his task at the park. He takes off as quickly as he can. A few moments later, the marked unit patrolling the area, spots the body, and calls it in. That's where we enter the picture."

"Too bad, we still don't know who the victim is," Kate muses. "Neither his fingerprints nor his DNA are on file."

Esposito's wheeled desk chair scoots across the floor, delivering him to Kate's desk. "We picked up something on the canvass that might help with that. The soft pretzel lady who sets up two blocks from the crime scene knew him. She used to give him broken pretzels and talk to him sometimes when she didn't have any customers. She says he was kind of off but very smart like a math professor or something. He helped her figure out how many pretzels she'd need to warm on her cart so she'd have enough to sell but not end up with any stale ones."

"So maybe he used to teach around here somewhere," Kate speculates.

"He looked like he was in his late thirties," Castle notes.

"That fits with what Lanie found," Kate agrees.

"He might have been hit by some trauma or mental illness that drove him out on the street. Schizophrenia usually manifests before the age of 40, and there are many other possibilities. We can't use a picture, the way his face was cut up. But I can put a query on social media about a math guru who hit the wall somehow," Castle proposes. "I could ask my followers to retweet me. Someone out there must know who he is."

"Give it a shot, Babe," Kate allows. "Anything you get will be more than we have now."

"I think that's everything," Roy Montgomery puffs, shoving a duffel into the cargo area of a rented minivan. "There's no room inside for much else."

"That's true," Eli agrees. "But there's always the top rack if we pick up anything while we're there. I was thinking about a set of cross-country skis. Lana said she'd teach me."

Montgomery whistles. "Whoo, you've got it bad, boy. I remember when I let Evelyn drag me to Rockefeller Center to ice skate. I fell on my ass, but I was smiling all the way down."

"I do care about Lana," Eli confides. "Aside from skiing, we like a lot of the same things, and she feels as strongly about protecting the people of this city as I do, she's just a little more hands-on about it."

Montgomery winks. "I don't want to hear about where she puts her hands, at least not with the kids around. Let's go find out if Evelyn has them rounded up."

"You go ahead," Eli urges. "I want to check in with my office before we go."

Montgomery slaps the younger man on the back. "Sure. I figured you would."

Castle pops out of his seat next to Beckett's desk. "I think I've got something. Castlelover 1572 had a math teacher she kept in touch with after high school. He gave her advice on some of her college courses and supported her as a girl choosing math as a major. Then about two years ago, he just dropped out of sight, and she never heard from him again. She says his name is Mitchell Beeman."

Kate keys in the name. "Searching now. Right. A Mitchell Beeman was reported missing by his mother two years ago. There's a note here that he was mentally ill. He'd never been violent or in trouble of any kind, but lost the ability to do his job, and was unemployed. He'd been a math teacher. There's a picture, but if we're going to figure out if it's him, we need to see the body."

Lanie pulls out a drawer. "Here's your victim of the hacksaw massacre." Castle holds an enlarged printout of Beeman's image next to the head of the body, while the two women compare what they can make out of the features. "The spacing of the eyes looks right. So do what's left of the nose and the lips," Lanie adds.

"Hard to tell with the beard, but the shape of the face looks right, too," Kate observes.

"You need to bring the mother in here," Lanie advises. "If she can't make a positive visual identification, we can check her DNA for a maternal match."

Castle shakes his head. "Hell of a way to find out your son is dead."

Kate presses her head against his shoulder. "At least she'll have some kind of closure, but she'll still need justice. We have to track down the killer."

"It has to be someone who would benefit from SunKick going down the tubes," Castle declares.

"You mean someone with a grudge against the company? Who hates swings?" Kate wonders.

"Maybe it's not about hating swings," Castle considers. "We always have our three motives, love, money, or to cover up a crime. We've established the third one in terms of killing presumed-Beeman. But as to whatever child was supposed to suffer injury or worse in the midst of playtime, No. 2, possibly with No. 3 thrown in, might make sense. I need someone who can interpret all the financial intricacies of SunKick's dealings. Marty is supposed to have some materials on the popup ready for me to peruse. We might as well go see him about SunKick. Experiencing Kate Beckett on the job will knock any misapprehensions he has about you being the 'the little woman,' right out of his head."

Kate's eyes narrow. "The what?"

Rick waves both hands in front of his face. Never mind. We can pay him a visit after we find Mrs. Beeman. Telling a mother we have a body that might be her son will be the hard part, won't it?"

Kate rakes back her hair, sighing. "It always is."