Finding the Fit Chapter 72
"Did you reach Dr. Manning?" Kate inquires as Rick returns from the break room.
He shoves his phone back into his pocket and leans on Kate's desk. "I did. She said she was familiar with the genetic disease that causes fragile red blood cells. She called it CDA. I'm not even going to try to pronounce what that stands for. But more to the point, she remembered a journal article she read a little over six months ago about a family in South Africa that is afflicted with that particular curse. They were having a tough time getting blood with a viable match. They had some flown into Cape Town from Spain, but it was very expensive, and the government balked at picking up the freight. There also isn't nearly enough of an ongoing supply."
"Which would be a perfect motive for kidnapping Julia – for the ransom and her blood."
Strands of Rick's hair fall across his forehead with the intensity of his nod. Kate reaches up to smooth them back. "So your theory may not be so wild after all. But what do you do now?"
"An excellent question," Rick acknowledges, sinking into the seat now well molded to the buttocks Kate loves to grab. "If it weren't for the trials, I'd hop on a plane to South Africa. But I don't want to be out of the country if something comes up with the SDNY. And I sure as hell want to be around for the jury sitting now to bring down the hammer on Bracken. But I do have a contact over there. One of the older boys I knew at Compassionate Hearts, Ossie Melville, joined the Peace Corps and went to serve in Africa. He stayed and, during the height of the HIV epidemic, decided to help out in South Africa. He's still there. We keep in touch. He helps me give some realism to scenes in my books involving places he's familiar with, and I do a little bit to support a couple of causes close to his heart."
"I'm not even going to ask you what you mean by a little bit," Kate says. "So, do you think he'd be willing to make some inquiries about the family with – what did you call it? CDA?"
"Ossie has a real heart for people in trouble, especially kids. Given the kidnapping of a little girl, I don't think I could stop him."
"Are you going to give him a call?" Kate asks.
Rick stares upward as he does a quick calculation. South Africa is six hours ahead of us, so it will still be afternoon there. He could be up to his neck in good works somewhere without cell service, but I can give it a shot."
Rick can almost hear Ossie's grin through the phone. "Hey, Ricky! Good to hear from you. I finally had time to read Storm Fall. But what's with killing off my favorite hero?"
"You'll love Nikki Heat even more," Rick assures his friend. "But, I'm working on a real-life mystery, the kidnapping of a little girl. My gut tells me she's in South Africa."
"Your gut, Ricky? What do the cops say?" Ossie questions.
"They ran out of leads and stopped looking. They think she's probably dead. Even her parents are beginning to believe that."
"But you don't."
"I found some evidence that makes me think it's possible she's alive."
"Rick, are you sure this isn't one of the stories you've been cooking up ever since I can remember?"
"I'm not sure, Ossie, but a little girl's life is at stake. Either way, I have to find out."
"Stubborn little Ricky hasn't changed a bit," Ossie declares. "All right. Tell me everything you have, and I'll see what I can do."
Even with the sound turned off, ZNN on the large flat TV on the wall overlooking the bullpen continues to show trial coverage in a column of text on the left side of the screen. Every few minutes, it updates with highlights of the prosecution's closing argument. The transcript will be available online in a couple of hours, but Rick and Kate aren't about to wait that long. They both stand staring at the feed. It finally finishes just short of five pm, reporting the end of closing arguments and the judge adjourning court. The chyron at the screen's bottom announces that Judge Michaud will be giving the jury instructions the next day, after which they will retire to deliberate.
"You know, Beckett," Esposito says gently as the camera shows various muted experts opining about the day's proceedings, "it may be days or more before the jury returns with a verdict. You need to chill a little."
"Espo's right," Rick says, turning to Kate. He points at the screen. "They can blab all they want. That's what they get paid for. But it's not going to mean anything now. Judge Michaud has been annoyingly evenhanded throughout the whole trial. He will continue to be when he gives the jury their instructions tomorrow. Then, the jury will do its thing for however long it needs to. Agonizing about it won't get a verdict a second sooner. However, I do have an idea to make the time go faster."
"More mystery-solving, Castle? Right now I'm about mysteried out," Kate admits.
"No more mystery solving – at least until I hear from Ossie. But how about a little healthy competition?"
Kate throws Castle a suspicious look. "What kind of competition? You want to go to the range? Esposito can beat both of us."
"No doubt about that," Esposito inserts, "but my abuelita is putting on a big dinner tonight. She'll have my ass if Ryan and I don't show up. Besides, no one can beat her mofongo."
"That's for sure," Ryan agrees. "I've been trying to trade her my family's Irish stew recipe for it, but she's determined to keep her secrets."
"When Abuelita is determined, a bulldozer can't move her," Esposito declares. "And we'd better get going, Bro. If we're late, my cousins will grab everything."
"As I was saying, Beckett," Rick continues as the detective partners trot toward the elevator, "we should participate in a competition. It's bar trivia night at the Old Haunt."
"Castle, I won't admit that you can beat me at much, but with that trashcan mind of yours, you'd win a trivia contest hands down."
"Which is precisely why we can team up. We can play against the Answer Tappers and the Knowledge Kings. You won't have a chance to obsess about Bracken. Competing with those guys will take all your concentration. It will even take a large portion of mine."
Kate presses her fingers to her lips. "What do we get if we win?"
"The thrill of victory and a month's free bar snacks of our choice."
"Castle, you own the place. You can already get free bar snacks."
"Actually, for me, they're not free. They come out of my profits," Rick points out. "However, one can't buy the thrill of victory. Its savor must be earned. So what do you say, Beckett? You can get those wedge fries you like – hot and salty. Ooh, that sounds dirtier than I intended."
"Did you finally talk the cook into putting fried pickles on the menu?"
Rick sticks his thumbs under imaginary suspenders. "I did indeed."
"In that case, Castle, you're on. So what are we calling our team?"
"How about Caskett? You know, Castle and Beckett."
Mischief dances in Kate's eyes. "I like Beckle, for Beckett and Castle, better."
"When you're the better player," Rick returns, "your name can go first."
