Finding the Fit Chapter 87

Lines deepen on Dr. Jeckel's already craggy face. "Yes, I remember that case quite clearly. The murder seemed particularly cruel, in that Mr. Martindale would have survived for some time in great pain. It was also tragic. If he had received medical help quickly enough to replace his lost blood, chances are high that he could have lived a normal lifespan."

"Yes," Kate acknowledges, "Detective Rivens' report notes that Walter Martindale was working alone at night at Creepoid Enterprises. But apparently, that wasn't unusual for him. Anyone familiar with his schedule could have anticipated it. It also wasn't unusual for him to study previous crimes to use as a reference when creating new props. At the time, Walter was working on one based on the murder of Floyd Jensen. It appeared to Rivens that Walter was killed in precisely the same way as Jensen. I was wondering if you could confirm that."

Jeckel closes his eyes for a moment. "I don't recall Rivens mentioning that convergence. I know I never examined Floyd Jensen's records."

Kate pulls a file from her bag. "Would you be willing to take a look now?"

Jeckel reaches for the folder. "Of course." He pulls a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket and studies the photos accompanying the post-mortem report. "The pattern of wounds looks the same. Give me a moment to check on the identification of the weapon and the official cause of death. Yes, the weapon was the same size and shape, and the penetration of the wounds is comparable. Hmm, there were traces of ferric oxide in Jensen's wounds. I found similar traces in Martindale's wounds."

"So both men were killed with the same rusty knife?" Rick asks.

"Or very similar rusty knives," Jeckel replies.

"Which would suggest the same murderer," Kate offers.

"It would suggest a line of investigation based on that assumption," Jeckel clarifies.

"How about Detective Rivens' death?" Kate asks. "Did you have any theories about that?"

"If I recall accurately, that post-mortem was handled by Dr. Perlmutter. If you have questions about it, he would be the one to ask."

"That will be fun," Castle mutters.

Kate extends her hand to Jeckel. Thank you very much for your time, Doctor."

Jeckel's hangdog visage brightens with a grin. "My pleasure, Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle. It's always good to climb back into the saddle for a while – and good luck with Perlmutter."

Perlmutter flashes a welcoming smile at Kate and a disapproving glance at Rick. Don't you have more pulp to turn out, Castle?"

"I don't write pulp, Perlmutter. My books are produced on low-acid paper," Rick informs the perennially grumpy pathologist. "They'll still be around for you to read when you retire."

"I don't get my reading material from the bargain bin, Castle. I have more refined judgment."

"You didn't have very refined judgment in the death of Detective Rivens," Rick throws back. "Heart attack from unknown causes? Really, Perlmutter?"

"A misleading characterization of my report," Perlmutter claims, "but what else could I expect from someone who spends his time spinning fiction – bad fiction? What I said was the cause of death was a heart attack with the contributing factor of Riven's general physical condition. The man was a classic mesomorph, Castle, like that fitness guru who dropped dead jogging in the park. He wrote bestsellers, too, five as I recall. Then he died of a massive heart attack at 52."

"So the heart attack couldn't have been induced in some hard-to-detect way, like injection with an air bubble?" Rick presses.

Perlmutter lets out an exasperated hiss. "Don't you think I checked? There were no injection marks and no signs of an air embolism."

"What about slipping something in his food or drink?" Rick persists.

"The only thing in his stomach was water and a banana papaya smoothie. There was a record of him buying it at the Smoothie Shack on Canal Street. He bought them a couple of times a week. No foul play, Castle."

"Water," Rick repeats, "could it have been some kind of sports water, the kind with electrolytes like potassium in it? One of the nutrition authors at Black Pawn is always pushing bananas and papayas on everyone because of the high potassium levels in both fruits. Some of the stalls on Canal Street hawk those waters to bargain hunters trying to up their games. Could the combination have been enough to push Rivens' potassium levels high enough to stop his heart?"

Perlmutter rolls his eyes. "Not from a regular sports water, Castle, or gym rats would be dropping like flies."

"What if someone who learned Riven's habits spiked one with extra potassium?" Rick presses. "Would that have shown up on your autopsy?"

Perlmutter rakes his fingers through what's left of his hair. "I was already looking at a heart attack, so indications of potassium toxicity would be non-specific, and Riven's post-mortem potassium levels may not have reflected his ante-mortem levels."

"Did you just say no?" Rick queries.

"I said that it's possible it wouldn't have," Perlmutter admits.

"Is there any way to check?" Kate asks.

Perlmutter shakes his head. "Rivens' blood and tissue samples would still be in storage, but not the stomach contents. If by some wild stretch of Castle's imagination, Rivens was poisoned that way, nothing I have can prove it."

"Castle, if you're right about Rivens' being poisoned, then we're looking at two murders," Kate says as they walk back to her unit.

"Maybe three, but by one killer," Rick suggests. "Perhaps Rivens did start to look into the similarity between Floyd Jensen's and Walter Martindale's murders, and the killer decided he had to take him out. But he had to make it look like natural causes, or it would have raised even more questions. So he follows Rivens around for a while, learns about the smoothies and sports water, and finds a way to spike a bottle. Or he could have spiked a bunch of bottles, but unless they were consumed by someone else who just had a banana papaya smoothie, it wouldn't have killed them."

"We should check out any stalls near the Smoothie Shack that sell sports water," Kate decides.

"Great! There's a junk dealer near there who's always getting in new lots from estate sales. Maybe he has a vintage bell or two."

"Still on that, Castle?"

"If we're there anyway, it can't hurt to look."

Duke Crebble glances over a counter crowded with figurines and knickknacks. "Hey, Rick Castle! Long time no see. And you brought a friend. I have a few more of those china tea sets you like."

Kate's eyebrows fly upward. "China tea sets, Castle?"

"They were for Miss Lula. She collects them. It's the only thing she's done for herself instead of the kids. But when she had to go to supported living, she had to give most of her collection away. She's only got room for miniatures now. Any miniature sets, Duke?"

"Not in my last acquisitions, Rick, but I'll keep my eyes open. Maybe your friend would like something. I scored a box of contents that had some antique combs in the bottom. They'd look lovely in her hair." Duke reaches under the counter and brings out two meticulously carved amethyst studded combs.

Kate gazes at them for a moment before pointing to her badge. "Actually, what I'd like is some information." She displays a photo of Detective Rivens on her phone. "Have you ever seen him around?"

Duke regards the image. "Yeah, I have. It's been a while, but he used to come in here looking for police memorabilia. He found an old whistle once that he liked."

"A whistle!" Rick repeats, "I almost forgot! Do you have any bells, preferably also of the police memorabilia variety?"

"There were a few with the whistle. I can show them to you," Dukes says, maneuvering his large frame through crowded aisles, with Rick close behind. He holds up several metal bells. "Here they are."

"I'll take them!" Rick declares, before leaning in and whispering. "The lady loves purple. Wrap up the combs too."