Flu
Chapter 59
Rick's arms wrap around Kate. "Don't get up. Stay in bed."
"Can't, Babe. I need to get the paperwork out of the way, so we're ready to go when Osnitz sends the results on the leather. But you can sleep in a little if you want. I don't need creativity for the forms I'm filling out, just listings of how many hours were spent doing what and attributed to which case. It's all about justifying all the resources spent on the parade explosions."
"Seems to me you could use a little creativity there," Rick considers. "Terrorism is a lot sexier than plugging something into the wrong socket."
"It is," Kate agrees, "but with terrorism, the feds get to grab all the glory. You know how Montgomery hates that. This way, everything was wrapped up by the N.Y.P.D., and the D.H.S. doesn't even get a turn at the microphone. You have to check in with Mark, anyway, don't you?"
A smile spreads over Rick's face as a sigh flows from his lips. "Even if I weren't keeping tabs on business at the Pumpkin Palace, I'd want to communicate my heartfelt gratitude for last evening's events."
"Rick!"
"For recommending the restaurant, Kate. Our overture of food and music. I'm sure he and Holly are creating private symphonies. He doesn't need vicarious enjoyment of our intimate encounters. I'll get the numbers and determine if I should make an appearance. I can join you after you've done your bit for the bureaucracy."
Heitner's phone falls to the floor as he attempts to turn off his alarm, and his head swims as he tries to retrieve it. F**k! Allergies are a pain, but he's seen enough co-workers come down with it to know he has the God damned flu. If he can get up the energy, he'll call in sick. Right now, he needs to make it to the medicine cabinet and down the most potent pills he has.
Frees paces the floor of his office. His employees know better than to bother him when he has the door closed. He has work to do. Contracts with several retail outlets for the specialty gear he manufactures are coming up for renewal, and he has to keep his markets open. His online sales are growing, but many of his customers want to touch and feel what they buy. He needs the brick and mortar stores to accommodate them.
Heitner should have responded by now. Frees left three voicemails, but none of them is marked as received. He hates feeling impotent, but there's not much he can do. He doesn't want to chance getting spotted around Hugh's apartment, and he sure as hell can't risk trying to visit his partner in a building full of cops, even deskbound ones. But he can scrape together some patience. After spending hours or even days in a blind, the kill has been that much more satisfying. He can wait for his chance to strike, but he's not about to wait long.
When Mark reported that the Pumpkin Palace is in the midst of decorating for Christmas, Rick couldn't resist dropping in. If he weren't working on the McCready murder with Kate, he'd already be filling Eduardo's dolly with boxes of decorations from his storage bin in the basement. He and Alexis have always gone through them together, with Mother making an occasional appearance to kibbitz. This year, he hopes Kate will be involved as well. Turning the loft into a Christmas wonderland should be a family project.
The Pumpkin Palace, however, is his, with the two cents of the writer-regulars thrown in. If a writers' hangout is to survive beyond the holidays, he'll have to build another family of sorts. When Rick arrives, most of the writers are at their usual tables with fragrant coffee or hot cider and pumpkin scones, cookies, or muffins. Busby Canterfield, who also helped out with the Thanksgiving feast, is creating images of Santa as a writer, on his computer. Castle likes the idea of Saint Nick as a reader, better, but he's not about to discourage the young Busby's efforts. The spirit of giving, in all manner of guises, could make for a great theme.
Searching out Mark, Rick finds him in the kitchen staring into the pantry. "Something wrong?"
Mark continues gazing at the shelves. "That depends on what we want to introduce into the Christmas menu. No problem with our pumpkin items. But Christmas and cold weather scream for chocolate, even if it's just hot cocoa with pumpkin spice and adding chocolate chips to the cookies and muffins. Black pod disease is attacking the cacao trees on the Ivory Coast, which exports most of the world's cocoa. That's jeopardizing the availability of high quality supplies, and as Johnny-come-latelies, we'll be on the bottom of the list for most vendors."
How about Grantzen Importers?" Castle asks. "They bring in some of the best chocolate around."
Mark spins toward Rick. "Are you kidding? I'd love to buy from them, but until the current shortage resolves, they've limited sales to current customers."
"Never fear, Castle is here," Rick declares. "I've been a steady Grantzen customer for years. Ken Grantzen even drops in on one of my poker games occasionally. Needless to say, he brings incredible snacks. And you wouldn't believe what Kate will do for… never mind. The thing is, if the Pumpkin Palace needs chocolate from Grantzen, I can get it. Just give me a list, and I would assume sooner is better than later."
"I'll get with the chef, and you'll have it today," Mark promises.
"You look pleased with yourself," Kate remarks as Rick bounds out of the elevator at the 12th.
Rick presses his lips to her temple. "Christmas plans and chocolate dreams. The coin landed on edge, and I actually got a chance to accomplish something for the Pumpkin Palace that Mark couldn't. So, while I'm on a roll, what can I accomplish here? Any word from Osnitz yet?"
"No, but I talked to one of the techs. She said the leather extractions ran overnight, and the prepped samples are in the queue to be shot into the gc-mass spec. The lab will send along the results as soon as they have them. I'm almost done with the paperwork, though. It turns out our people interviewed hundreds of witnesses to rule out terrorism. Even at only a couple of minutes per witness, that took a hell of a lot of resources. But here's the kicker. The captain has a source at D.H.S. who found out the feds spent three times as much to come up with nothing, while we solved the case."
"Montgomery must be delighting in a moment of schadenfreude," Rick guesses.
"He's wallowing in it. But he's also trying to figure out how to reward the hard-working members of the 12th Precinct without spending any money. He said we're so far in the hole, he can hear the echo."
"Maybe I can turn down the reverb a bit. Mark puts online coupons on the Pumpkin Palace website. I can get him to designate a code for our worthy fellowship to get free treats. They'd be entering it anonymously, so we shouldn't bump up against the 'no gratuities' rule of which you are so fond of reminding me. It's not much, but it's something."
"Babe, if you're including the pumpkin chiffon pie in there, it's a lot."
Rick pulls his phone out of his pocket, winking. "I will make a note of your suggestion."