Kate Beckett, Investigator Chapter 5

Sparky Fletcher closes his eyes as he rolls spicy barbecue sauce over his tongue. Laying a picked-clean rib on his plate, he sighs. "You know, I don't care for the smokey tastes – too many tragic associations. But the chef here gets the mix right. Still, you folks didn't invite me here for a recipe critique. Kate, you said you have a question about a fire."

"An explosion, really," Kate clarifies.

Fletcher dabs at his lips with a paper napkin. "Then, I take it we're talking about Nes Tower."

"Got it in one," Castle says.

"I have my doubts about that one myself," Fletcher confides. "The investigation was closed way too fast. I hit up an old buddy to get a copy of the report and he said he couldn't get his hands on one. It's in a confidential protected file."

"Is that usual procedure?" Kate asks.

"Anything but usual procedure. Events like that need to be studied and learned from to prevent future occurrences. And there's no question about protecting the rights of victims or next of kin – there weren't any. No one to sue or ask questions – except for you and Rick, Kate. What is your interest in Nes Tower?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out, Sparky," Kate admits. "But it seems to be part of a pattern of behavior."

"On the part of Nesgadol?" Sparky queries.

"Got it in one, again," Castle inserts. "I feel like I should be handing out prizes or something."

"Nesgadol doesn't deserve any prizes. The name's ironic really, it's Hebrew for a big miracle. But if there's anything miraculous about that company," Sparky muses, "it comes from below. There have been problems with their structures for years."

"What kind of problems?" Kate asks.

"Fires breaking out from supposedly up-to-code wiring. Corroded pipes at the same time people were getting sinusitis and sore eyes."

"Sulfur in drywall," Kate realizes.

"Exactly. And there were collapses that happened during minor fires, revealing materials that were barely up to grade. As far as I can make out, the company's cut every corner it legally can and some that maybe weren't so legal."

"Anyone get hurt?" Castle queries.

"I don't know all the details. A lot of minor injuries and complaints. But I know of one firefighter who was hit by a falling beam. Broke his back. He's still in a wheelchair. That beam was load-bearing. It should have been the highest structural grade – no knots or other defects. And it shouldn't have fallen under those conditions. But there wasn't enough of it left to verify the grade. So the whole thing got written off as a very unfortunate accident."

"Where's that firefighter now? Could I talk to him?" Kate asks.

"He is still around but I'm not about to violate his privacy by giving you his name, Kate," Fletcher says. "Still, I'll tell you what. I'll give him a call. And if he's willing to talk about that fire and what happened, I'll have him call you."

Kate nods. "That's fair."

"How long have you known about problems with Nesgadol buildings, Sparky?" Castle inquires.

Sparky strokes the white stubble emerging on his jawline. "Must be about twelve years now."

"Twelve years," Kate repeats.

"If I recall," Castle says, "twelve years ago our illustrious mayor moved on from his stint as a prosecutor to Commissioner of the city's Department of Buildings."

"The DOB, that's right," Sparky agrees. "At that same time, Nesgadol started to get its foothold in the city. You think the mayor's on the take from Nesgadol?"

"If he isn't, it's one hell of a coincidence," Castle declares.

Jim Beckett lets out a low whistle. "Katie, this whole Nesgadol case is a lot bigger than I thought it would be. And with the number of criminal elements to it, we might end up working with D.A. Waterhouse."

"As a cop, I mostly worked with the ADA's," Kate says. "But I was in a few meetings with Waterhouse. He's a good D.A."

"Good thing he was elected not appointed," Jim says. "He isn't under Gambitto's thumb. But we need to put together everything for our suit first. Did you get a call from the firefighter that Fletcher mentioned?"

"No. But I don't know if Sparky's had a chance to talk to him yet. And I have to get down to the dock now. Nesgadol has another load coming in."

"More drywall?"

"Carpet. At least I won't need a saw to take samples."

"But take your respirator," Jim advises. "From what we've seen so far, God knows what fumes that crap has been putting out."

"Marley will know soon enough. And I'll make sure I stow away a copy of the report before Wigdor gets his hands on it. He has a way of making unwelcome information disappear."

"And who is instructing him to do that?" Jim Beckett wonders.

Kate starts for the door of the Beckett law office. "That's a good question."

Sal Gambitto slides into a high-walled booth opposite Jacques Nellis at Chez Cary. "I hope they cut back on the garlic this time. Can't make a decent deal with anyone if you're breathing garlic."

Nellis' lips narrow. "Just tell the server you don't want garlic. The chef will take care of it. But we have more important things to talk about than your breath. We're going to be finishing up the renovation of those buildings on 76th off Columbus. The carpet is coming in today. And we should be ready for occupation in a couple of weeks. We've already got a waiting list for the condos. After what happened at Nes Tower, we can't afford to have anything slow this development down. You've got to keep things under control."

"They are under control," Sal protests. "You were at the head of the line getting your permits. You had the inspectors on the spot when you needed them. All you need to do is pass the final inspection and you should be ready to go."

"That's just it," Nellis says, his finger spearing the tablecloth for emphasis. "We need to pass that final inspection – no slowdowns, no 'fix this and we'll be back next week.' We need a clean approval. All done, ready to go."

"Why shouldn't it be a clean approval?" Gambitto inquires. "You have all your certifications, right? The inspectors won't have much to worry about."

"Just so long as they don't go sniffing around anything that's none of their business," Nellis says.

Gambitto shrugs. "I don't know what you're talking about. You got the permits you wanted, no waiting. Same thing with getting your plans through. You put together those condos according to the specs the city signed off on, you're ready to go, no problem."

Nellis draws his thumb along the blade of the knife from his table setting. "I just need to make sure there won't be any new questions coming up." He points the knife at Gambitto. " And there won't be, will there Mr. Mayor?"

Gambitto swallows. "Of course not. Everything's been taken care of. Now can you see a server anywhere? I can use a drink."

Nellis signals to a young man with a bow tie and a tidy green apron. "We're ready to order."

The young man trots over with a practiced smile. "I'm Cory. Would you like to hear about the chef's specials for today?"

Gambitto scowls. "Bring me a Johnnie Walker Red Label, neat. Make it a double."