Finding the Fit Chapter 88
Upon leaving Duke Crebble's eclectic domain, Rick points down the street. "Look, Beckett, that stall over there sells sports equipment, and they have sports water."
Kate follows his gaze. "I see, Castle." She pulls her phone out of her pocket as they approach the stall. She taps her badge and displays the phone's screen to a man straightening piles of jerseys. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett. Have you ever seen this man?"
The stall's occupant leans in to look. "Yeah, maybe, but not for a long time. He never bought a shirt or anything, but he used to get a water sometimes."
"Sports water?" Rick asks.
"Yeah, Super Sprint."
"He always bought the same kind?" Kate queries.
"Yeah. He said it washed down his smoothies."
"Anyone else tell you that?" Rick inquires.
The man shrugs. "Not that I can remember."
"Thanks," Kate says. "You've been very helpful."
As he and Kate leave the stall, Rick slips his phone out of his pocket and brings up Google. "Super Sprint. Uh-huh. Their website shows they have the highest potassium level of any sports drink. If someone spiked a batch, they wouldn't have to spike it much."
"I don't see anyone getting into that stall to spike the water or do anything else, Castle," Kate notes. "With all those shirts and signed balls and stuff…."
"Probably machine-signed," Rick interjects.
"Whether the signatures are genuine or not, there's barely room to move around in there. We should check the other stalls."
"Fine with me," Castle agrees, "I want to see if any of them have any Joe Torre stuff. I found out that he and my mother had a thing before he met his present wife. I think she still has a little crush on him."
"Martha Rodgers likes baseball? My dad is a huge Yankees fan. When I was little, he used to take me to games with him."
Wistfulness creeps into Rick's voice. "Hanging out with your dad like that must have been nice."
"It was. But you know, Castle, you could still find your father."
Rick sighs. "Beckett, I'm getting the feeling that he doesn't want to be found. I'd rather concentrate on finding Rivens' killer."
"Assuming there really was one, and he didn't just have a heart attack."
"Even if he died a natural death, we can finish his job for him and get rusty knife guy."
"We'll do the best we can, Castle," Kate promises, "but we've still got a lot of stalls to check out."
"Yes, we do. I think there are at least two just in the next block."
Rick and Kate step off the elevator into the bullpen, and he switches a bag filled with metal bells, well-padded combs, a baseball, a jersey, a hat, and a bobblehead to his other shoulder. "All the Canal Street dealers tell the same story, Beckett. Rivens was a creature of habit. He always bought Super Sprint. It would have been easy for the killer to pick up on that. And three of them were big enough for shoppers to come in and walk around. Someone could have spiked the Super Sprint while the owner or clerk was occupied, or better still, spiked it before it was delivered to all the stalls.
"But that still doesn't prove anything," Kate points out. "Still, if Rivens was right, Walter Martindale's murder wouldn't have happened if Floyd Jensen's killer had been caught. That was the start of everything, so that's the case we need to go back to."
"You've already got the case file. New murder board?"
"New murder board," Kate confirms.
"We know that Jensen was stabbed in a deliberately tortuous pattern, so what else do we have?" Rick asks as Kate clips things to the board.
"He was murdered during a time when he was habitually alone, just like Martindale was," Kate says. "The killer knew his schedule the way he did Martindale's. We know we're looking for someone acquainted with both of them."
Rick nods. "So we need to look at the detectives' interviews with possible suspects in both cases and see if there's any overlap."
"Right," Kate agrees. "The detective on Floyd Jensen's murder was George Purdy."
"I've never heard of him," Rick admits.
"That's because he put in his papers before you started working with me. I heard he moved to Belize so his pension would go further, but we have all his notes." Kate points to a bunch of papers.
Rick regards them with disgust. "Lousy handwriting."
Kate unclips them from the board. "We still have to go through all of them. We can spread them out in the conference room. The light's better in there."
"As you wish."
"It looks like Floyd Jensen shared something with Walter Martindale besides a murderer," Rick offers. "The people who knew them thought their interests were a little strange, or at best, unusual. Walter designed and made his gruesome props, and Floyd Jensen studied the history of animal slaughter, if with the noblest of intentions."
"Castle, most people don't use slaughter and noblest in the same sentence."
"Jensen thought that animals, even those destined for the dinner table, should be killed with mercy. He had a grandfather who was a ritual slaughterer and taught him that knives should always be as sharp as possible so that animals could be killed with a single stroke and not suffer. Those rules were for religious reasons, but Jensen had seen his dog hit by a car as a child and was deeply affected by his pet's suffering before it finally died. So he worked on improving machines that could kill food animals as quickly and painlessly as possible without drugs that could contaminate the meat."
"Why would anyone have a problem with that?" Kate asks.
"According to this, Jensen was always crusading against agribusiness, claiming that it tortured animals while they were alive as well as when they were slaughtered. He even accused some kosher and halal slaughterhouses of cheating on the rules to avoid animal suffering. He got abattoirs temporarily shut down a couple of times. And even when he failed in that, he made enough noise and got enough press to be an expensive nuisance. For someone in the industry that he really ticked off, stabbing him with a rusty knife and making him slowly bleed out would make perfect, if evil, sense."
"And when Martindale figured out what happened, the killer decided to take him out the same way," Kate continues. "So if you're right, we're looking for someone connected to the meat industry. We need to go through all of the suspects in both cases and see if anyone fits that profile."
"And it would have to be someone in a position to poison Rivens," Rick adds.
"Assuming anyone actually did, of which we still have no proof," Kate reminds him. "We're on much more solid ground with suspects in the Jensen and Martindale killings. We'll give priority to those."
"As the detective commands." Rick catches a glance at his watch. "But it's way past end of shift and we have a hell of a lot of suspects to dig into."
"I didn't realize we'd been at it so long," Kate confesses.
"That's because no one rings a bell at the end of the shift," Rick teases.
Kate smothers a laugh. "Maybe you can talk to Montgomery about that – tomorrow. Let's go home now."
"Good thought, but how about a stop at Remy's on the way? Burgers and fries with milkshakes. While strawberries are still in season, they're swirling in real ones." Rick offers his arm. "What do you think?"
"Sounds perfect."