Finding the Fit Chapter 82
"Ricky, I'm sorry this took so long," Ossie begins.
"Forget it," Rick cuts in, "just tell me if you found Julia."
"I did," Ossie says. "I went to a clinic in the Lesar's neighborhood. I have friends there and asked if anyone had seen her. A woman who works in the Lesar's kitchen had. The Lesars explained that the little girl was staying with them because her family had taken ill and couldn't care for her. They told her that the girl had medical issues herself, necessitating visits to Tygerberg. Leah, the kitchen worker, had some doubts because Julia didn't look much like the other Lesars, and she knew they still held the old ideas on intermarriage. Still, she knew she could get fired for asking too many questions, so she kept her mouth shut. I showed her the picture you sent of Julia, and she confirmed it was the same girl staying with the Lesars.
"That gave me enough to go to the police, but I had to be careful. The Lesars have a lot of influence. But I found a captain whose sister I'd helped to get medication when she became HIV positive, so he let me have some officers to go to the house. He also got a warrant so they could search inside. I got a nurse from the clinic, too. I thought it might help to have a woman along. That all took a while."
"I'm surprised you did all of it so fast," Castle says. "So, where's Julia now?"
"Julia's with the police, and the nurse is with her. The captain is looking for a safe place where she can stay until her parents can get there with the necessary paperwork to take her home."
"That shouldn't take too long," Rick assumes. "They'll probably head for the airport about a nanosecond after I give them the news."
"It's not the flight that will take the most time, Ricky. It's the bureaucracy. The Lesars are powerful people. The Witzenbergers must present overwhelming evidence that Julia is their daughter and was illegally taken from them."
Castle rolls his eyes. "The bureaucracy, of course. Everything is always the damn bureaucracy. But I'm sure the Witzenbergers have the resources to do whatever it takes to cut through it. As soon as we hang up, I'll call them."
"Tell them I said Godspeed, Ricky."
"I'll do that."
Kate's eyes shine as Castle finishes his conversation with Norman and Khalia Witzenberger. "Babe, what you did – it was incredible. I never thought you could actually pull it off."
"Julia's not home yet," Rick reminds her. "It seems like there's always another step to everything, doesn't it?"
"It does," Kate agrees. "And while you were on the phone with the Witzenbergers, Francine Meyers' phone log finally came in. There were five calls to Smith Enterprises, and the last one was two days before she was murdered."
"That would give them just enough time to have her followed and taken out," Rick speculates. "Will we be paying Smith Enterprises a call?"
"I want to pay Judge Markway a call first. When I walk in there, it will be with a warrant for their phone records and anything else that could connect them with Francine and whoever killed her." Kate checks her watch. "He'll be on the bench in less than an hour. We'll have to hurry."
Rick starts for the elevator. "Ooh, are you going to use your lights and siren?"
"If the traffic is too heavy, I'll definitely think about it."
"Let me get this straight, Judge Markway says as he dons his robe. Smith Enterprises sold bad quinoa that made a woman sick. You think that when she threatened to expose them, they had her killed?"
"Francine Meyers was an activist and not shy about taking her theories to the press," Rick points out.
"We already have the evidence that Francine Meyers received the quinoa. According to her post-mortem and medical records, she was suffering symptoms consistent with consuming a dangerous strain of the plant. And we also have a record of five calls between her and Smith Enterprises before she was stabbed," Kate reiterates.
"In the park near the museum where little kiddies could have seen the body," Rick adds. "You'd think the murderer could have been public-minded enough to at least pick some nice deserted alley."
"All right, Detective Beckett can have her warrant," Markway agrees. "Now get out of here. I have a trial to convene."
Smith Enterprises occupies an unadorned building in Redhook, Brooklyn. Despite a rough history, the area evolved into a warehouse hub due to its proximity to major roadways. A receptionist, sitting behind a glass window, looks up as Kate and Rick walk in. "I'm sorry, our sales are strictly business to business. We don't deal directly with consumers."
"That's all right because we aren't about to consume what you've been selling," Rick quips.
Kate holds up her badge. "I'm Detective Beckett. This is Mr. Castle." She pulls the warrant out of her jacket. "I need access to all your records in connection with a murder investigation."
"A murder investigation!" the receptionist repeats. "You'll need to talk to Mr. Smith."
"Then you'd better get him out here," Rick advises.
The receptionist whispers a few words into her phone. Moments later, a slim, balding man with half-glasses emerges from a door near the receptionist's desk. "I'm Waldo Smith. May I help you?"
Kate holds up her warrant again. "This gives me the right to search your phone, sales, and any other records that might shed light on the sale of a product to and subsequent murder of a young woman. I'll need access immediately."
Staring at Kate over his glasses, Smith looks more confused than guilty. "The death of a young woman? There must be some mistake. Our products contribute to healthy living, not death, and certainly not murder."
"Mr. Smith, do you sell quinoa?" Rick queries.
"We do. We supply health food stores, restaurants, and meal packaging companies, and we've never had a complaint about the quality of our products."
The receptionist reddens. "Mr. Smith, we did get complaints recently. But they were all from one woman. I think her name was Francine Meyers. She was quite insistent that a case of our quinoa made her ill. I kept telling her that we don't sell directly to consumers, but she kept calling and saying that it came from us and made her sick."
"Francine Meyers is the young woman who was murdered," Kate says.
"Mildred, did you tell anyone about the calls?" Smith asks the receptionist.
Mildred rubs a pen between her fingers. "Mr. Randall is the one who usually deals with messed up shipments, so I told him."
"I need to talk to Mr. Randall now," Kate demands.
"His office is near the loading dock," Smith says. "I can take you back there."
Smith leads Kate and Rick through rows of heavy metal shelving stacked with palletized containers. As they near the rear of the building, Smith spots a stocky man walking toward the dock. "Jack!" Smith calls. "The police need to talk to you."
Jack Randall sprints toward the loading dock and leaps four feet to the drive below. He winces as his ankle buckles under him but attempts to keep on running. Kate makes the same leap with much more grace while Rick hurries down a short flight of concrete steps to the ground. Kate catches up to a limping Randall, forces him to his knees, and cuffs him.
Rick looks on with an appreciative smile. "You should have just talked to the nice detective, Jack. It would have been a lot less painful."