Flu

Chapter 95

"I have to give it to Hillerman," Rick remarks, digging into a box of files, "he's organized. "I wish the files in the archives were this orderly."

"Have you found the employees from 1995?" Kate asks.

"Just getting into them. Everyone has a Social Security number, but they could be phony or made up."

"Still no shortage of that going around," Kate agrees. "Any groundskeepers?"

Rick flips through tabs identifying the folders. "They appear to be filed under Outdoor Maintenance. Makes sense. It looks like there was some turnover that year. I see records for three of them, Emilio Castro, Julio Becerra, and Jaime Rivera. They all had the same address, one of those little houses adjacent to Libation Hill. They were only making $2.25 an hour. If memory serves me, that would have been about half of the minimum wage back then. Hillerman must have thrown in housing as part of the deal."

"Who was working on the estate when Mary Jane died?" Kate asks.

Rick's brow furrows as he studies the pages. "It looks like there was a turnover between Castro and Becerra around that time. It could have been either one of them."

"We'll take pictures of that whole file," Kate decides. "We'll have to track down Castro and Becerra. Maybe Rivera too. He might know something."

Rick holds open the files so Kate can snap photos. "That could be easier said than done."

"That's why they pay us the big bucks, Babe."

"They don't pay me bucks of any size." Rick reminds her. "I work purely for love."

"And to research your books."

Rick leans over a file for a kiss. "A fortunate but minor added attraction."

"Want to grab lunch on the way back to the precinct?" Kate asks.

"Only one of us is eating for two. Is your tummy rumbling?" Rick inquires.

"More like intrigued. Did you see that place we passed on the way over here? It looks like a flying saucer."

"Actually," Rick confesses, "I was hoping you'd notice. I saw an article about it in one of the restaurant industry rags Mark reads. It's called Feeding Humanity. That's a riff on an old Twilight Zone punchline from a story by Damon Knight. The title of a book belonging to supposedly benevolent aliens called Kanamits was 'To Serve Man.' Humans were being shipped off to the Kanamits' planet when a woman discovered, too late, that it was a cookbook."

"I remember the episode from a marathon, but isn't the reference a little obscure, Babe?"

"Sure. But sci-fi fans who get it can indulge in a sense of superiority, and diners who don't can enjoy the food and the atmosphere. The ribs are supposed to be terrific. Don't worry. No humans are hurt in the production of the entrées."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Glad to hear it. And I could use something to gnaw on right now."

"Yeah, me too."

"Beckett!" Ryan calls, holding up an express envelope as Kate and Rick enter the bullpen. "This came for you, from A-1 Web Services."

"That's the outfit that hosted the forum where Jeffrey G contacted Felicia and Courtney," Rick realizes, as Kate grabs her delivery. "So, who is the little bugger?"

Kate's jaw tightens. "A-1 doesn't know. They asked him for a valid email and confirmed it, but that's all they had, except for the metadata from his postings. I'll give this to Tori and see what she can get out of it."

"At the least, the metadata should tell us whether Jeffrey G was really posting from Boston," Rick offers.

"I hope he wasn't," Kate admits, "because if he was, we have nothing to tell us if he's a bad guy or was just trying to be helpful."

"While you talk to Tori, I can see what I can dig up on Castro, Becerra, and Rivera," Rick offers.

"Great, you get started. I'll be back," Kate promises.

Returning to the bullpen Kate makes a beeline for an unclaimed desk where Rick's set up shop."Find anything yet, Babe?"

"I started with Emilio Castro. If the one I found is the same guy, he's doing very well for himself. He's a Cuban immigrant. Initially, he was denied asylum under the wet foot, dry foot policy. But he appealed and won. The timing all fits, so does the story, more or less. He was granted citizenship about 9 years ago, and he's built himself quite a business. He provides landscaping services all over Queens. This time of year, that's snowplowing. Castro probably made out like a bandit from the blizzard. He has an office in Flushing."

"Anything about family or working for slave wages at Libation Hill?" Kate asks.

"Not a word. But I wouldn't expect to see any of that detailed here. This is one of those profiles in a business registry. There are over 47 million Emilio Castro listings on Google. Going that route, we could be sifting through them for days or years."

"Is there a picture? We could send it to John Hillerman," Kate suggests.

"One of those empty silhouettes. If we want a photo of Emilio, we'll have to snap it ourselves."

"I'll ask him to come in," Kate decides, "and if he declines, we'll go see him."

"When will Tori have something for you?"

"She wasn't sure. She's working on three other cases, and this one isn't even official."

"Right. Cold cases aren't a priority, and nonexistent cases are really at the bottom of the queue. Rick briefly jots on a pad and hands Kate a slip of paper. That's Emilio's business number. Perhaps he'll respond to your dulcet tones."

"I'll find out."

Emilio pushes aside a pile of papers on his desk to make eye contact with Kate and Rick. I'm sorry I couldn't come to the police station, but as you can see, I'm buried. You wouldn't think I'd have much to do in landscaping during the winter, but I'm working out all my contracts for the spring. If we're not ready to go at the first warm snap, we miss out."

"No need to apologize," Kate assures him. "We appreciate your time, Mr. Castro. As I told you on the phone, we're looking into a previously unsolved case. At this point, we're exploring every possible path of investigation, no matter how unlikely. You may not even be involved. Did you ever work on an estate that's now known as Libation Hill?"

Castro throws his reading glasses on his desk. "Oh, that place takes me back. Yes, I worked there, but I got out as soon as I could. They barely paid anything and made me live in a shack that was a wreck. I spent all my spare time just keeping it from falling down around my ears. And vermin came in from the woods. I had to ask the manager, Hillerman, to order poison to kill them. But the stuff he got was deadly. I locked it up to make sure the dogs wouldn't get into it by accident."

"Mr. Castro, were there any young children living around Libation Hill while you were working there?" Kate queries.

"No, well, yes, on my last day. My replacement, I think his name was Julio, moved into that hovel I'd been stuck in as I was leaving. He had a little girl. Sweet kid. She wore one of those plastic crowns you could get at the 88 cent store, and she called the big house el Palacio, the palace. Compared to where she was going to be living, I guess it was."

"Do you remember her name?" Rick asks.

"I don't think I heard it. Julio just called her Princesa, princess. I'm sorry. That's the only child I can remember."

Kate shakes her head. "Mr. Castro, you may have helped more than you know."