Papa Jack Chapter 80
A door from across the hall opens a crack as Esposito raps loudly on Sauley Fisk's apartment door. An elderly woman peers through the opening. "He's not there."
Ryan holds up his badge. "Ma'am, we understood that he might be with his wife at the hospital while she's having a baby. Did you see the two of them leave?"
The neighbor snorts. "Two of them? The man lives alone. No wife, pregnant or not. But he loaded all his stuff in a U-haul last night. Made quite a racket doing it. Then he took off."
"Did he say where to?" Esposito asks.
"He never talked to me much. Didn't even wave when we were picking up our newspapers or mail at the same time. And he never said a word last night – just packed up and left. The super might know where. He'd have to sign off on any damages before the management company would release a deposit."
"Where's the super?" Esposito queries.
"Where supers usually are, basement apartment. The regular elevator doesn't go down that far, but the freight elevator does. It's at the other end of the hall."
Esposito nods. "Thank you, Ma'am. That's very helpful."
"When did you get so polite, Esposito?" Richard questions as the three men stride down the hall.
"She reminds me of my abuela. She's feisty just like her, and they have the same blouse with the little flowers."
Ryan grins. "I knew you had a soft spot somewhere."
"Soft spot?' Esposito retorts. "If I got out of line, my abuela took her big wooden spoon to my ass. Respect, Man. Respect."
"OK, I get it." Ryan pushes the button for the freight elevator. "Let's find the super."
"She'd make an interesting character," Richard silently considers as he regards a large woman with Velma embroidered on her work shirt.
Velma stares out of the door of the basement apartment. "I didn't call the cops."
"Yes, Ma'am," Ryan says soothingly. "We just needed to ask one of your tenants, Sauley Fisk, a few questions. But his neighbor thinks he moved out. She thought you would know about that."
Velma's eyes flash darkly in a face with city pallor. "If he was moving out, he didn't tell me. But tenants don't always give notice. They make holes in the walls and scratch up the floors. They know they'll never get their deposit back, and they don't want to have to pay out the rest of their lease, so they just take off."
"Do you have any idea where Mr. Fisk might have gone?" Ryan asks.
Velma shoves back dark-rooted, lank blond locks. "Not a clue, and I need to see how much damage he did to his apartment."
Ryan shakes his head. "Sorry, not yet. He may be a person of interest in a murder. We'll need to search the place and have the crime lab come through to gather any evidence."
"Well, if you find out where he went, I want to know," Velma says. "The landlord is gonna want to collect on what's owed."
"We're going to need a key to Fisk's apartment," Esposito says.
Ryan hands Velma his card. "And you can call me at the precinct or email me if you think of anything or have any questions."
"Who are you calling?" Richard asks as Esposito pulls out his phone on the way back to the elevator.
"Judge Markway for a warrant. If we find anything in Fisk's apartment, I don't want some f* defense lawyer getting it thrown out."
"Oh, Judge Robert Markway?" Richard inquires. "We frequent the same bagel shop. Best cinnamon raisin in the city. His mother is a fan. I autographed a first edition for her once. Tell him I say hello."
"Yeah, sure, Castle," Esposito says and hurries ahead to make his call.
Gloved and bootied, Richard gazes around Fisk's apartment. "It looks like he left in a hurry. A lot of the furniture is still here. I wonder if…. He crosses the living room to the kitchen and pulls open the refrigerator. "Most or all of the food is still in the fridge. In here too," he adds, checking cabinets.
"Fisk took his toothbrush, comb, and razor," Ryan reports from the bathroom.
"Figures," Richard says, "CSU could get DNA from any of that. I bet the linens are off the bed, too."
"They are," Esposito calls from the bedroom.
"So he was fast, but he was careful," Richard asserts. "Looks like our Mr. Fisk might have been into more than facility maintenance. Maybe his HVAC pal was also. Too bad Ms. Necras couldn't give us a name, but it would probably be phony or stolen anyway. I bet Sauley Fisk is a stolen identity, too."
"What are you thinking, Castle?" Ryan asks.
"That Fisk and Mr. HVAC were setting up for something. Loftview has become a very popular venue very quickly. Lots of celebrities, industry leaders, and politicians in and out. Any one of them could be a target for some kind of plot. Ventilation ducts can hold anything from bugs to bombs. Speaking of bugs." Richard stomps hard against the scarred wood floor. "Cockroach. If this one came out in the daylight, there are probably hundreds or thousands of them hiding in the walls, listening to everything that goes on. Too bad they can't talk – although there was Marquis' Archy from Archy and Mehitabel, who bounced on the keys of a typewriter. That maneuver would be a lot easier with a laptop. Much lighter touch."
A grimace contorts Ryan's face. "Ew! Castle, I hate cockroaches."
"You and most of the rest of New York City," Richard offers. "And wherever Fisk, or whoever he is, goes, people will hate them there. They're great at hitching rides. But more to the point, Fisk has taken off for somewhere. Didn't Esposito's abuela clone say he packed up a U-Haul? That's got to be traceable."
"Yeah, it should be," Ryan agrees. "While CSU does its thing in here, we can get on that."
"And Lanie should have something for us by now," Esposito adds. "We should go see her."
"Great," Castle says. "Maybe Beckett can meet us there on her lunch break or something. Visits to the morgue don't usually involve heavy exertion or flying bullets."
"Or we can pick her up on the way," Ryan proposes. "She can keep you company in the back seat, Castle."
A smile creeps over Richard's lips. "Yeah, she can."
"You get a COD yet, Lanie?" Kate asks.
"The vic's primary tox screen was clear, but I'm running a secondary one," the ME explains. "I found a small puncture mark on his neck. Poison could have been administered that way."
"That sounds intriguing," Richard comments.
"Anything else?" Kate asks.
"I don't think Mr. Doe here is from the United States," Lanie continues. "Some of his dental work looks like it was done in Eastern Europe. His records don't match anything on file. His DNA won't be back for at least 24 hours, but I got a negative match on his fingerprints. He also has facial features, particularly his eyes, that some hereditary lines developed as an adaptation to cold temperatures."
"Like in Siberia?" Richard asks.
Lanie nods. "That would be one possibility."
"So our vic could be from Russia or thereabouts," Richard speculates.
"He could," Lanie agrees. "I may know more when I get the DNA results."
"And you'll call when you have the rest of the tox results?" Kate urges.
"Absolutely, Girlfriend," Lanie promises. "First thing."