Papa Jack Chapter 12

With darkness still hanging over the city, Kate Beckett enters the Medical Examiner's building. She takes the steps to a lower-level lab. Newly minted medical examiner Lanie Parish's face lights up as Kate approaches her autopsy table. Hey there, girlfriend! What brings you down here so late? Or for you, so early?"

"I needed to talk to you before my shift. Do you know anything about a Dr. Marin, who used to be an ME here?"

"Dr. Marin," Lanie considers. "I recognize the name, but he died, didn't he?"

"A couple of weeks after performing my mother's autopsy."

"You don't think the deaths were connected, do you?" Lanie questions. "I heard he had a heart condition and was already slowing down before he died."

"Connected or not, my new shadow got Clark Murray to have a look at Marin's report on my mother's death."

"Gold star for your shadow! In the forensic pathology world, Murray's a superstar. Did he find something Marin missed?"

"He said that the killer used a specific knife and that the wounds were disguised to look less skillful than they actually were. The detective on the case, John Raglan, ran with unskilled and, you know, chalked my mother's death up to random violence. That gave him an excuse to let it go cold as unsolvable. But it shouldn't have been unsolvable, Lanie."

"And you believe you can solve it now?"

"I don't know, but I've got a place to start that I didn't have before. And I was wondering if you could help me."

"You're not talking about exhuming your mother's body, are you?"

Kate shakes her head. "No way! My father's worked so hard to climb out of the hole he hid in after she died. I'm not taking a chance at pushing him back in. But could you check the files for anyone who died of wounds similar to hers? If she was murdered by an expert contact killer, there might be others whose deaths were attributed to random violence."

"All right, Kate, I'll check the files. But your dad wasn't the only one who went into a tailspin over your mother's murder. When you first joined the force, you almost killed yourself trying to track down her killer. Don't you go jumping into any holes either."

"I won't, Lanie," Kate promises. "I didn't have any decent leads then, but I do now. I intend to follow them. And if I make detective, I'll have an even better shot."

"Oh, you'll make it, girl. Aside from the brilliant mind that got you into Stanford, after that bomb thing, making you a detective will be great PR for the NYPD. With all the fallout from 'Stop and Frisk,' they're not about to give up on any chance to look good."

"I hope you're right," Kate says, checking her large timepiece. "And I need to get to the precinct to get ready for my shift. I can't afford to screw up now. Call me if you come up with anything?"

"I will," Lanie promises. "And Kate, good luck."

"Oh, one more thing. Can I use your phone? I need to make an unofficial inquiry and IA monitors the phones at the precinct."

Lanie sweeps her hand toward the phone on the wall. "Have at it. Dial 9 for an outside line.

Richard is already waiting in the lobby of the 12th when Kate finishes with roll call.

"Ready for another exciting day on patrol?" he inquires.

"Sorry, Castle, for a street cop, the less excitement, the better," Kate replies. "But I just need to pick up my equipment, and we'll be ready to go."

"So," Richard asks after Kate has pulled out into the street. "Find out anything interesting this morning?"

"My friend in the ME's office confirmed Dr. Death's star status, and she's going to look for autopsies of murder victims with wound patterns similar to my mother's."

"That's excellent! You've been busy. Early riser?"

"After we met with Murray, I didn't feel much like sleeping. I also called the State Department of Corrections. Joe Pulgatti is still at Sing-Sing."

"So, we're on for Thursday?" Richard inquires.

"I guess. Are you sure you want to sit through routine patrol until then?"

"You weren't the only one up early, Beckett. I already roughed out a chapter this morning. So, I'm on target and ready to rumble."

Kate rolls her eyes. "You just stay in your seat. If there's any rumbling going on, I'll call in the Gangs Unit."

"Mmm. That could be interesting, too."

Jack scans through a transcript of recent chatter. There's no mention of planned bombings, but there had been no mention of the last one, either. All the alphabet agencies, including his own, had been caught flat-footed. If Richard's presence at the fundraiser hadn't attracted the attention of Anna's former compatriot, the casualty list could have rivaled Oklahoma City. Anyone who'd planned something like that isn't about to give up. But the would-be bomber or bombers might be biding their time until surveillance of possible targets drops off. That's assuming their next target has any surveillance. New York City, particularly Manhattan, is crammed with locations where a few bombs could exact a terrible toll. No collaboration of agencies can monitor them all, and in any case, the agencies aren't that big on collaboration.

Fingering the still-dark stubble he had yet to take time to shave that morning, Jack's mind takes another tack. What if Richard's presence hadn't been incidental? The list of celebrities was released in advance to ensure a full house and high viewership. Maybe the revenge angle still figures in somehow. In that case, the next target would also be chosen on the basis of Richard's presence. However, Richard's upcoming presence is rarely posted. Compared to TV and movie stars, his appearance isn't much of a draw. Still, it is publicized for his book tours, and some of his signing sessions have sizable attendances. An even bigger audience would be involved if Black Pawn scores a guest shot for him on Leno or Letterman. The casualties from a bombing could be immense. But that's unlikely to happen until a new book comes out. He and Richard plan to have dinner together that night. Jack can find out when the next release is coming.

Richard shifts positions on the passenger side, trying to avoid getting poked by a spring that seems determined to emerge. "Beckett, how often do they replace the seats in marked units?"

"I don't know," Kate admits. "I haven't been on the force long enough to see it happen. But, given the police garage's complaints about the inadequacies of the maintenance budget, I'd guess sometime between rarely and never."

Richard squirms again. "Maybe tonight I can get one of those car cushion things to use tomorrow. Or perhaps we can stop somewhere on your lunch break where I can get one today."

"Don't hold your breath for that, Castle. Usually, my lunch is whatever I can get from the closest street vendor."

"Falafel or hot dog?"

"Hot dog. Most of them are Sabrett's, but I really like Nathan's Famous when I can get them."

"Same here," Richard announces with a grin. "Beckett, you are a woman of discerning tastes. Oh, do you see that?"

Tires screeching, Kate pulls beside a red curb and jumps out to chase a purse snatcher. Richard exits the car to watch Kate tackle the thief to the ground. "She definitely saw it."