Flu

Chapter 87

"What are you going to say?" Mark asks as Holly leads him into an instrument shop.

"Maybe that some of my violin students also play guitar, or have a family member that does, which is true. I could claim that they want the finest instruments they can afford, even if they have to do the assembly work themselves," she adds. "We'll see how it goes. The important thing is that whoever is behind the counter brings out a kit, and we get a good look at it. We've both seen genuine Martins. You know how perfect they are. Counterfeit kits' materials must be cheaper, or they wouldn't make any money for a scammer. The workmanship probably isn't as good either."

Manny (The Mandolin) Mortenson looks up from behind the counter. "Ms. Maigret! I recognize you from your portrait in Music World. We don't carry violins for your level of virtuosity. Perhaps you are inquiring for one of your students?"

"I am, Mr." she checks his nametag, "Mortenson. Actually, the father of one of my students has an interest in guitars. I'm investigating instruments for him." She wraps her arm around Mark's waist. "This is my fiancé. They work together."

"I see," Manny responds, nodding enthusiastically. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. Quite fortunately, I'm in a position to offer your friend an opportunity to obtain a Martin, which, as I'm sure you know, is a guitar of the highest quality."

Holly shakes her head. "I'm afraid that would be out of the price range he's considering."

"Of course," Manny agrees, "Martins are far from inexpensive, but I have a distributor who offers kits I can sell for $299. I would be pleased to show you an example."

Holly flashes a bright smile. "Please."

"It will only take me a minute to get one. I'll be right back," Manny promises, disappearing behind a curtained doorway.

Grinning, Holly stretches up for a quick kiss. "That was easy."

Manny returns, opens a large cardboard carton, and lays out the pieces. "As you can see, the artistry is superb. And everything is included except glue, finishes, and tools."

With Mark looking over her shoulder, Holly surveys the kit. "It does look impressive." She turns to Mark. "Does Richard have the skills to put all of this together?"

Mark stares thoughtfully at the array of components. "He likes to tinker with things, so maybe. But there are a lot of parts in there, and I don't know if he's done much with wood. We should get back to him and ask."

"Of course, of course," Manny agrees. "And if you know of anyone else who is willing to put in a little effort to own a superior yet affordable instrument, you let me know."

"That's got to be a fake!" Holly declares as soon as she and Mark are clear of the store. "According to what I read, a kit for that model of guitar should sell for almost $1000."

"I know, I looked it up too. And the top should be solid spruce," Mark adds. "That one had the kind of little dents you get with soft pine. I've seen them before when we put up shelves in restaurants where I worked before Rick hired me. I'm going to text Rick right now, and then I have to get back to Imagination Patch. We're doing more business than the Pumpkin Palace did. One of the writers, Busby Canterfield, is helping out in the kitchen more than he's on his laptop, but I don't want to be away from the front of the house too long. You want to come? Chef made double chocolate muffins this morning. He puts a little espresso in them, and they taste fantastic."

"Caffeinated muffins," Holly teases. "No wonder business is hopping. Sounds good."

"Yes!" Castle exclaims, punching an imaginary target. "Mark and Holly confirmed that one of the stores Earl got money from is selling phony Martin guitar kits! So, what's our next step?"

"We get Earl in here again, but this time," Kate declares, "he's in the box."

"Ooh! While you send a unit to pick him up, I'm going out to get some fresh popping corn and real butter. I want to enjoy watching every minute of your interrogator's art."

"Forget the popcorn! Counterfeit kits were your lead. I want you in there with me."

Rick's inner child raises its head and pushes out big Rick's lower lip. "No popcorn. Brownies later?"

Kate rolls her eyes but can't suppress the upturn of her mouth. "Brownies later – and hot chocolate."

Earl doesn't like the metal chair or the metal table. He recoils at the color of the walls, the obvious one-way mirror, the camera, and the microphone. Everything about the room where Detective Beckett had the tall black cop take him is disturbing. But he's determined not to let it show. There's no way the cops can prove he did something wrong, and if he doesn't let anything slip out, there's nothing they can do.

Beckett walks in with the man who questioned Earl before. He still doesn't know what the guy's doing there. What the hell is a civilian consultant?

Kate slides smoothly into her chair, with her ever-present black folder in front of her. Rick takes the seat beside his wife. She sits silently, pretending to study the contents of a file until Earl begins to squirm and noticeably sweat. Kate points to several plastic bottles at the end of the table. "May I offer you some water, Mr. Jabbanek?"

Earl can use something to wrap his fingers around. "Yeah, sure." He takes a deep swallow of the liquid. "What am I doing here again, Detective? I already told you everything I know about my brother's death."

Kate shrugs. "Fine, then let's talk about his life. You both started out working at Martin guitars. But you left. He didn't. Why is that Mr. Jabbanek?"

"I couldn't read my brother's mind, Detective," Earl protests. "But I was always more ambitious than Gil. He was content working at Martin. I wasn't. I wanted to make a bigger mark in the music world than I could in Nazareth. What's wrong with that?"

"Maybe nothing, Mr. Jabbanek," Kate replies, "depending on how you financed your attempt to move up in the industry."

Earl takes another drink from his bottle. "I'm good with money."

Kate allows a smile to tease her lips. "We'll explore that in a minute. You say you came to New York to make your mark. You said your brother was content. Why did he come after you?"

"And if he was so happy, what was he doing in that church?" Castle adds.

"I don't know," Earl claims.

Kate turns a few pages in her folder. "I think you do know, Mr. Jabbanek. He was there for the same reason Chauncy Bergman went to a church – for the same reason that Chauncy burned to death there."

A flush rises in Earl's face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Catching Kate's eye, Rick picks up the thread. "Chauncy worked at Martin too. He shipped out kits to make guitars. Those kits all came with paperwork declaring them to be the genuine Martin article. Chauncy printed the certifications out and included them in the shipping documents. But he needed a little extra money, so he printed more certs than required to send with the kits. He printed a lot more and sold them to you. But he never felt right about it. He was proud of working at Martin and hated the thought of betraying the soul of Nazareth. It was Pentecost, the time of the Great Commission, and Chauncy went to church to decide whether to confess. But you knew he was wavering, and you were afraid that he'd tell Martin what he'd done. So you made sure he never told anyone anything again."

"You can't prove that!" Earl protests.

"No?" Kate taps on her folder. "You have a business degree Earl. You should have known how to set up a shell corporation instead of having the money from selling phony kits flow straight into your pockets. Maybe you liked seeing all those deposits listed under your own accounts. But the trouble with banks is that they keep records, pretty much forever. The payments you've received, what you paid to make your kits, what you paid Chauncy Bergman, it's all out there, Earl. It's like a kit, and any good prosecutor can show a jury how to put together the pieces."

"I have to go to the bathroom," Earl complains.

"I'll have someone take you," Kate promises, "but we have a few more things to talk about first."