928. Chapter 928

After And Justice for All

Episode 8.13

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle in any language. Rating: K Time: See above.

Hispanic Heat

By

Richard and Katherine Castle.

"I think I can be a big help on this case, Nikki. I have a lot of contacts with the Hispanic community in New York."

Captain Nikki Heat raised an eyebrow very slightly. "Is that why you had to order at Taco Bell by pointing at the pictures of the food?"

Rook slowly shook his head. "Nikki, Nikki, Nikki. When will you learn? The people in fast food places in New York City are never from anyplace near where the food is allegedly from. People from the Caucus work in pizza restaurants. The staff at Chinese places are all from the Middle East and fried chicken is sold by Brazilians. And the people who work in Mexican fast food places are from Africa. The young lady was an Ibo from Nigeria who spoke neither English nor Spanish. I would have ordered in her native language, but I don't think the Ibo even have a word for taco."

Nikki laughed. "I was just teasing you, Rook. Do you think you can help us?"

He nodded. "There are two Salvadoran gangs fighting for the Jewish delicatessen business. One is made up of former Salvadoran rebels from their civil war. The other is made up of ex-cops. They are Los Boyz and Los Cops, respectively. When the war ended, there were a lot of trained killers from both sides who suddenly had no jobs. A lot became crooks in El Salvador and some came to the US to become crooks."

Detective Ochoa nodded. "So far, Rook is right. The murder vic is Pedro Hyman Chung Uhuru O'Malley-Polanski. He was a fixer of sorts, having a foot in both camps, so to speak. Actually, Organized Crime has given him a free rein, of sorts, since he is good at his job and that keeps the violence down."

Nikki nodded. "So, why don't we go see both sides and see what they have to say?"

The four decided to go to Los Boyz first. The gang hung out at a place called the Strudel Shack. A bearded Sikh met them at the door. "Greetings, sahibs and memsahib. How we may be of service?"

They flashed their badges and headed for "Che" Ordonez, the head of Los Boyz.

"What can I do for you officers?" Che asked, while putting salsa on his strudel.

"What do you know about the death of Mr. O'Malley-Polanski?" Nikki asked, sitting down.

A look of anger crossed Che's face. "If I knew anything I'd tell you. He was a good guy. Simpatico. And he understood us. He was helping us with a little….business problem. He was negotiating and he was that close, "Che held his forefinger close to his thumb, "to a deal. He said he had one more thing to do and it would all be over. Whoever killed him screwed us. And we'll…."

"…Let the police handle it, if you know what's good for you." Nikki finished for him.

"Exactly what I was going to say." Che said with a smile.

Next they drove to the Mabuhay Gardens, a Filipino fast food place, where Los Cops hung out. A young man in a yarmulke met them at the door. "Oy vey! You think you have problems? You should have the problems I have."

Nikki and her team pushed past him and walked to Los Cops and confronted their leader, "J. Edgar" Ramirez.

"Please come in and sit." Said J. Edgar. "Always happy to see fellow police officers.'

"This isn't a social call. What do you know about the death of Mr. O'Malley-Polanski?"

There was cursing in Spanish, Tagalog and Hebrew when Nikki asked that question. J. Edgar spat. "He was a good man. A great man. He only wanted to help people. He was helping us with a business problem and almost had it solved. Now we'll have to start all over again. Oh, sure, he got a taste, but he lived like a monk. He could have lived like a king working for one of those Wall Street firms, but he wanted to help the people. Whoever did this will, "J. Edgar smiled at Nikki, "feel the full force of the law."

Once back at the precinct, they knew that they'd hit a dead end. "Both sides seemed genuinely upset that our vic is dead." Nikki said. "But we have someone else to talk to, his widow. We have her address."

Mrs. O'Malley-Polanski lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn. They were surprised to see she wore a nun's habit. "I left the Church because of him. I had dedicated my life to poverty, chastity and obedience, but it wasn't enough. Pedro made me feel like I was really doing something important with my life. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm returning to the convent and it'll take me three weeks to pedal my bike all the way to Erie, Pennsylvania. Oh, some people from a charity will be here shortly to pick up the furniture."

Nikki looked around. All she saw was an old orange crate with a plastic McDonalds' cup on it. "That's your furniture?"

"It's all we ever needed." And she pedaled away.

They returned to the precinct and pulled the vic's phones and financials. There was hardly anything there. "This guy didn't live as well as a monk. " Raley commented.

"Hey, we got another lead." Detective Rhymer said. "He has a sister, lives out in Queens. You should go see her."

Once again, they headed out to talk to someone who had lost a loved one.

They weren't surprised at all when Ms. O'Malley-Polanski opened the door wearing a burqa which covered her from head to toe." You are here about my brother?" She said in a soft voice. "Excuse me for dressing like this, but I have converted to Islam, a religion of peace. And I fear I know nothing about the death of my brother. He was last here a week ago and we talked of the old days, when we were children. We were very poor, which is why my brother dedicated his life to helping others."

Rook smiled. "A very interesting story. Too bad it's a lie." He turned to Nikki. "I'm an expert in linguistics and I can tell you she has an upper class Boston accent, Beacon Hill, to be exact and she attended Sarah Lawrence, majoring in finance."

"You can tell all of that from her accent?" Nikki asked.

"That and she's a Presbyterian who had sex the first time in an old Mustang on the Fourth of July with a certain ruggedly handsome journalism student. Hi, Caroline. Long time, no see."

When the case was solved, Nikki and Rook shared a bottle of Sancerre in their loft. "So he was a phony?" Nikki asked.

Rook nodded solemnly. "He pretended to help the gangs out and when they trusted him enough, he gave them bad financial advice. A Jamaican gang he had "helped" had to give up all of their Korean grocery stores and go back to Jamaica. Then his sister came in and bought the properties for a song, tore them down and built upscale condos."

Nikki raised her glass to Rook. "You never cease to amaze me."

Rook glanced towards their bedroom. "Perhaps I can amaze you some more?"