Another Chance

Chapter 22

Jenny waves to Kate and Castle from the door of the conference room, signaling them to come in. She points to a listing she's underlined on a spreadsheet. "See these designer jeans? They're supposed to be made in North Carolina, but they were shipped from Bangladesh, where they could be made for practically nothing. She picks up another sheet. "And see this entry? The clothes from this company are made in L.A., not China." She indicates yet another printout. "And these pants are specialty items from an indie designer. Short runs like this come from a shop in the Garment District, not from India." Those all had to be cheap knockoffs being sold as the real thing. The inventory records were changed, but whoever did this, didn't change the shipping records. Maybe they figured no one would check."

Kate taps her fingers on a pile of paper. "How many stores were involved?"

"No way to tell about all of them. Macy's has over 600 stores in the U.S. and more around the world, and they run Bloomingdale's too. It could have been any number of them. Even with just the one on 34th Street, whoever was doing this would have been making a lot of money."

Castle examines the conglomeration of data. "You mentioned three foreign countries. What kind of a job would a person have to hold to have the contacts to pull something like this off in all those countries?"

Jenny shrugs. "It would have to be a department buyer. But they wouldn't have to meet in person. A lot of purchasing starts on the web, and vendors can just send samples."

Kate nods and repeats, "Department buyer. That shouldn't be too hard to track down."

"What are you doing?" Castle asks as he hands Kate a freshly crafted latte.

She smiles at the foam heart topping the liquid. "That's sweet, Babe. I'm filling out an affidavit to get a warrant to see the personnel records from Macy's. They didn't balk too much about the printouts on the merchandise. It's not like they make a secret about what they sell. But employment records have confidential information, and the store's not releasing them without covering its ass. We could use a sympathetic judge too. Our theory of the crime is built on supposition. It's strong supposition, but there's no real evidence imported jeans have anything to do with Tillie's murder."

"Markway?" Castle asks. "He should be feeling pretty magnanimous. He just came back from a vacation in Florida. He got in the rounds of golf he's been pining for while it's been so cold up here. Chances are if we show up with a pastrami sandwich from Katz's and a couple of huge kosher pickles, he'll be well disposed to grant your request."

"Castle, a cop can't bribe a judge - not even with deli."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not a cop then, isn't it?"

Alexis' brows threaten to descend into her eyes. "They offered you the night manager's job?"

Micah nods. "Yeah. It would mean more money, and I sure could use it, but it would mean more hours too, including Saturday nights. I'd have Sundays and Mondays off, so we could still have those together. And we could meet up during the day when neither of us has classes. We might even be able to do more of that because my schedule would be more predictable. I just will be spending some extra time teaching some of the salespeople how the models go together and how to work the electronics. There are a couple of them who will also be showing me stuff about crafts like scrapbooking, stamping and card making. I've never been into any of that."

Alexis can't help smiling. "Yeah, me either. When I was in high school, some of the girls were really into the whole stamping and scrapbooking thing. They had sleepover parties where they did it. They had a great time, but I was bored silly. I liked building things better. My dad and I once made a flatulent robot. It was kind of gross but also kind of cool."

Micah grins at her. "It sounds cool. What did you use for the flatulence, one of those little battery operated bellows that they put in toy animals to make it sound like they're snoring?"

"Less complicated." Her face reddens. "It had a whoopie cushion inside, and a little motor that compressed it just enough to make the fart sound. But we had to take the cushion out and pump it up every time before the robot would work. With bellows, we wouldn't have had to do that."

Micah pushes his slightly overlong hair off his face. "Or you could have built a pump into the robot. It would have worked either way. Come to think of it that would have been even better because the whoopie cushion would make a more realistic fart sound than the bellows. If you wanted it to last, you would have just had to make sure it was made of the kind of rubber that wouldn't break down and lose its elasticity after a while."

Alexis' eyes widen, and her grin grows to match his. "You just designed a toy! Maybe one for frat boys, not kindergarteners, but a toy. Micah, the way you understand how model planes, and everything else works, and how you love science and engineering and coming up with something new, you could be a toy designer."

He presses her hand between both of his. "Alexis, we just enhanced a design a little together. That's nothing to stake a career on."

"Maybe not yet, but if you take the job as manager, you'll learn more about business and what customers buy - or don't. Maybe when we graduate, we could start a company together. We both could take the classes that could lead in that direction. At least we wouldn't be flailing around. And if we're taking the same kind of courses, we could study together and share ideas." Sparks of excitement brighten the blue of her eyes. "We'd be like my dad and Kate, building theory. Whatever we come up with, we could be together a lot more without messing up our GPAs."

Micah gathers her into his long arms. "Anything that gives us more time together can't be a bad idea."

Kate and Castle share one of the high tables in the break room at the 12th. Kate takes a healthy bite of her pastrami on rye with hot brown mustard. "I'm glad you got sandwiches for us while you were getting one for Markway. These are delicious."

Castle plows into his corned beef. "Nothing like salt, fat, and meat to get the brain going, even if what it may do for the rest of the body is questionable. So now that Macy's has their court order, how long is it supposed to take for us to get our hands on the records for the department buyers?"

"Apparently, New York has to send some kind of notification to the company headquarters in Ohio, but we should have them by tomorrow. While I was on the phone about that, you seemed to be having quite a conversation yourself."

Castle dabs at his lips with a paper napkin as he nods. "I was conferencing with Tamera Bardot and Bobby Cray about the food for the reception. The hotel has another source for the mushrooms. She found it acceptable. They agreed on a farm that produces purple potatoes too. The plums were more of a problem. Tamera wanted them from North Dakota, but the hotel has a deal with a supplier in Serbia. Eventually, they both agreed on an organic orchard upstate that the hotel buys from occasionally for special events. It will be a different variety of plum, but still the kind of American -Japanese hybrid that Tamera likes to use. She thinks she can make it work.

"Also, the printer texted me a reminder that it's getting close to time to send out the 'Save the date,' cards and we still haven't picked a font. I have some samples back at the loft. We should choose one tonight."

Kate takes a deep draw through the straw in her root beer. "Yes, we should. We both deserve a good font."

A/N "OK, so font's a steal from "Belly of the Beast," but it was one of the better and racier pieces of Castle-speak.