Flu

Chapter 62

Kate snuggles into Rick's shoulder as they make the short but chilly walk to the car. "I'm beginning to enjoy having a husband who's a restaurateur. The chili-filled pumpkin was incredible, and the pie was wonderful."

Rick pops a quick kiss on the top of her head. "Glad you enjoyed it, but I'm not sure how much longer it's going to last. A pumpkin palace is a draw for this time of year but will be weird, even for New York, for the other nine months. I want to keep it as a writers' hangout, but the theme will have to change if the place is going to survive past December. I think my regulars will stay, but according to Mark's careful tallies, their business won't sustain the place."

"So, what are you thinking?"

"Other than not wanting to freeze my butt off? With writers, the coffee will have to be a big deal, but sticking primarily with that puts us in direct competition with Java Hut. I'm thinking along the lines of serving what upcoming writers need every day, creative fuel they can afford, i.e. macaroni and cheese, not Steak Diane. I'll have to change the name too, and right now I don't have a clue what to call it."

"It will come to you," Kate asserts. "The right words always do."

"My editors might disagree, but I believe that's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me." Rick unlocks the car. "Anywhere you want to go before we head home?"

"Just start this thing so we can turn on the seat warmers."

The engine purrs to life when Rick turns the key. He winks at Kate. "Time to heat things up."

With the incessant beating on the door of his apartment threatening to blow his head apart, Heitner has no choice but to answer the summons. For a moment, his sleep-blurred vision can't discern the owner of the obscured face. "Damn! You shouldn't have come here."

Frees pushes his way in. "And you should have come through with a location to take out Beckett and Castle."

"I couldn't come through with anything except coughing my lungs out," Heitner complains. "You'll probably catch this sh*t now too if I didn't already give it to you at the Pronghorn. Neither one of us will be able to shoot straight if we can shoot at all. If I can keep it together tomorrow, I'll send out some feelers. Beckett and Castle's investigation may be nowhere."

"That's not good enough," Frees insists. "Your bug hasn't hit me yet. Maybe it won't. But if it's going to, I have to take those two out now. All you have to do is set up an opportunity. I'll do the shooting. I've brought down a buck and his doe before she could run away, and deer are faster than f*****g humans. Tomorrow, Hugh. You need to give me my kill-zone tomorrow."

"I'll do the best I can," Heitner responds.

Frost edges Frees' voice. "You'll get it done. If the cops come after me, I'm not going down alone."

Narrowly avoiding sticking his elbow in Kate's face, Rick turns off the alarm. Early December mornings are dark, even if an efficient heating system keeps the room at a comfortable temperature. Rick set the thermostat up a couple of degrees the night before, to be certain of a cozy awakening. He turns to Kate, who's already pushing off a puffy comforter. "Want to grab the first shower? I have a new blend of coffee I want to try, and the chef at the Pumpkin Palace showed me a couple of tricks to bring out the flavor."

Kate throws her legs over the side of the bed. "New tricks for making great coffee? I thought you knew them all."

"There's always something new to learn. Wouldn't life be boring if there weren't? But anyway, I'll get our morning infusion of caffeine going, and we can switch off. Alexis is going to a breakfast study session with a couple of other girls from A.P. Chem. And Mother has an audition coming up, so she's fasting for clarity. If you want to get creative, culinarily speaking, we have only ourselves to please."

Kate inhales the steam rising from her mug before taking a sip. "The chef was right about the coffee, Babe. If you sell this, you'll have every writer in the city trying to reserve a place at your hangout."

Rick takes a blissful bite of his eggs. "You put some magic into this scramble, too. I hope the trend toward enchantment continues throughout the day. Plans for our first stop?"

"I have to pick up whatever vehicle Support Services assigns to me while mine gets an oil change or whatever else they do."

"I suppose a new passenger seat would be too much to hope for."

Kate takes another sip of coffee. "I put in a request, but I got that 'Under this budget, are you kidding me?' look. You may have to stick with your pillow."

"I think Mr. Jack O. Lantern is showing the strain. He was never designed to protect Castle booty. If Support Services doesn't fix the problem, I may get a cushion custom-shaped to my posterior. But anyway, after the car, where to?"

"I found an address for Marnie Phillips."

"Bridget's friend from the yearbook?"

"Uh-huh. If she can remember who sold those bags, we may have a direct connection between Frees and Bridget. It would help to find an old picture of Frees," Kate adds.

"I have an idea of where to look. If he's the great white hunter, he must have won an award or two. Who doesn't take pictures with trophies? Maybe one of the deer-slayer periodicals publishes portraits of their brighter lights. It shouldn't take long to check."

Rick grabs his mug to head for his office. He drops into his desk chair and flips open his laptop. "Hunting award winners, 1990s. Ooh, better. Award-winning deer hunters 1990s. Bam! Got him, Kate. A young but evil Frees proudly displaying a gold cup and the antlers of a murdered buck. I'll print out a few copies and send the image to our phones."

"You're sure?" Heitner demands.

"Sure, I'm sure," Barney Shortsreet's Brooklynese articulation grates through Hugh's cell. "Detective Beckett dropped her unit off last night. Hell, she wanted us to put a new seat in it for that writer husband of hers. She's lucky she's getting a decent grade of oil. Dispatch is supposed to let her know when she can pick it up, but of course, I'll know first. Should be late this afternoon or first thing tomorrow morning."

"You'll let me know exactly?" Heitner questions.

"As long as our deal holds. I put in for holidays off, and you guarantee that I'll get them."

"You bet," Heitner assures him.

"Good, 'cause f**k snow, I'm taking the wife to Vegas for Christmas," Barney proclaims.

Heitner pulls his phone away from his mouth to cough. "Yeah, sounds great. Have a good time."

Marnie examines the picture of younger Frees. "Yeah, I think that's the guy who sold the leather bags. They were amazing! I used mine for years before it started to come apart. It's still in the bottom of my closet." Heat reddens Marnie's cheeks. "I'm kind of a packrat."

"Would it be possible for our lab to analyze the leather?" Kate asks. "A tech might have to cut a piece of it off."

Marnie shrugs. "Like I said, it's coming apart anyway. If you think it will help find who killed Bridget, you can have it."

"Yes," Kate responds, "I believe it will."