Flu
Chapter 85
With her feet propped on her desk, Lanie draws deeply from the giant Jumble Juice Rick brought for her. She studies the folder across her scrubs-covered thighs. "There wasn't any doubt about the cause of death. Gilmartin Jabbanek's hyoid bone was broken. He was strangled, hard. And the red fibers found in the marks of his neck matched the shawl the detectives believed was the murder weapon."
"How about something the original M.E. wouldn't have thought was relevant?" Kate prods.
"Right. Gil had a blood alcohol level of .12, drunk but not enough to knock him out. Oh, the tox screen shows some diazepam."
"Valium?" Rick asks.
Lanie nods. "Gold star, writer boy. Gil could have been taking it for anxiety. It's also an anti-seizure med and a muscle relaxant. If Gil took it with booze, he would have been pretty out of it. He wouldn't have been able to put up much of a fight."
"Could someone have put it in something?" Kate asks. "Was there a drink in his stomach?"
Lanie flips a page. "There was wine in his stomach."
"Wine in a church," Rick ponders. "Communion wine?"
"It's possible, but there would have only been a trace in his system from taking communion."
"Unless someone knew that Gil liked to drink communion wine outside of the Lord's supper," Rick considers, "someone close to him."
"Like his brother," Kate jumps in. "Lanie, could someone have put the diazepam in the wine?"
Lanie sucks thirstily on her straw. "Diazepam isn't soluble in water. Wine isn't high enough proof to put it in solution. Someone would have to dissolve it in alcohol first and add it. It would be absorbed a lot more quickly that way than if Gil just took a pill. And the M.E. didn't find any remnants of a pill."
"Valium wouldn't be tough to get. When I was in school, half the girls in my dorm had some," Kate recalls.
"There was no lack of it when I was on campus either," Rick adds. "And I've been to enough parties to know there's no shortage of much of any drug in the music world. Earl could probably get it as easily as a beer."
"Pretty close, Castle. There are over seven million prescriptions written for diazepam a year. And there would be more available on the black market," Lanie adds. "But why would Gil Jabbanek's brother want to kill him?"
"That," Kate declares, "is what we're going to have to figure out. We need to look deeper into the background of the Jabbanek brothers."
"They're from Nazareth, Pennsylvania, in Lehigh Valley," Rick inserts.
"Lorne Faulkner does autopsies for Nazareth," Lanie realizes. "He's at least familiar with the area."
Rick fights to keep from smirking while Kate congratulates her friend on a great idea.
"When was the murder you're investigating?" Lorne asks as Rick and Kate crowd in close to Lanie's phone.
"Six years ago," Kate answers, in May, around 50 days past Easter.
"Any involvement with Pentecost?" Lorne asks.
"Maybe, why?" Kate replies.
"Because there was a suspicious death in Nazareth on Pentecost a year or two before that," Lorne explains.
"Who died?" Kate queries.
"A guy who worked at the guitar factory. He was caught in a church fire that the arson investigator suspected might have been set, but she couldn't find any hard proof. I don't remember the details, but locally it was big news. It should be in the archives of the Lehigh Valley papers. I can check for you."
"I'd appreciate it," Kate responds.
Lanie grins at the phone. "Thanks, Baby. Talk to you later?"
"Count on it," Lorne promises.
"More research while we're waiting for Lorne to come through?" Rick asks as he plops into his seat next to Kate's desk.
Kate drums her fingers in front of her computer. "Yeah. Before Earl came in, you were looking into his history, and I was checking out A Mighty Wind, but I don't think we can separate them. Before Earl entered the picture, the Wind was more like a gentle breeze. They were playing weddings and sweet sixteen parties. But when he started managing them, they got some heavy promotion, articles in industry rags, radio interviews, that kind of thing. Suddenly they were getting gigs at clubs and making demos."
"Launching a P.R. campaign like that takes money," Castle notes. "Earl was a line worker before he came to New York. Unless he was a genius at investing, and I didn't see any evidence of that, he wouldn't have been flush with cash. Where did it come from?"
"Good question," Kate acknowledges.
"The roots of the story must be at the guitar factory," Rick insists. "Something happened there that touched off a series of events, illegal events, leading to Earl coming into money. If Gil found out and threatened to go to the cops or even the management, that would have given Earl a motive to take him out."
"But what could be going on at a guitar company?" Kate wonders.
"When in doubt," Rick offers.
"Follow the money," they proclaim together.
"We need Earl's financials," Kate decides. "Want to contribute some of that Castle creativity to an affidavit to get them?"
Rick lowers his head in a mini bow. "That would be my great pleasure."
Harvey doesn't touch his bottle of Balvenie 21 very often. He saves it for his birthday, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and big wins. Pouring his three fingers of scotch right now may be premature, but he doesn't want to put it off. He just found the potential flaws in the DNA analysis procedures used for Douglas' case against Heitner. He uncovered two potential holes and exactly where he had expected them to be. Not every detail of the analyses is in the report, but when he gets the CSU witness on the stand, he can dig into them. All he needs is reasonable doubt in one juror, and he has the case nailed. He can hardly wait for his new spot on the docket.
Rick watches with satisfaction as Kate hits send on her request for Earl Jabbanek's financials. "How long do you think we'll have to wait?"
Kate stretches in her chair. "At least a couple of hours, maybe more."
"Lorne hasn't gotten back to us yet. He's probably up to his elbows in a body. Hmm, not a very appetizing thought, but would you like to go to lunch? If crackers are good, real food could be even better. What would give joy to your tummy?"
"Is the chef at Imagination Patch still making those pumpkins filled with chili? It sounds strange, but I'm craving something spicy."
"It doesn't sound strange to me. While Alexis was awaiting her entrance into the world, I made runs for extra-hot burritos and Kung Pao chicken, sometimes on the same night. According to what Mark's reported, the supply of pumpkins has sharply diminished, but the chef is still making chili. He's putting it in winter squashes or, failing all else, a stoneware bowl with an imaginative garnish. Writer/sous chef Busby has a talent for those. If he's going to succeed in the literary world, it will probably be by writing intriguing cookbooks. But anyway, I can call ahead and make sure your heat is ready for you to enjoy at my table. Proprietor's privilege."
"And Chef's still making those chocolate chiffon pies too, isn't he?"
"With unique designs piped in whipped cream."
Rubbing her palm over her still-flat belly, Kate sighs. "Sounds great.