Here's the next chapter...not quite as long of a delay as last time. I'm not getting many reviews, but the ones I get are positive. If you're reading and DON'T like it, review anyway! (please) I can't improve without constructive criticism.
International08: good catch! They were Firefly references, just because I like to include subtle references like that in everything I write. I don't like them to be obvious, so it's nice when people catch them. If I knew you, I'd give you a cookie or somethin'.
Here goes!
CHAPTER 7
September 22, 10:16am
"Manuel Sanchez! NYPD open up!" Esposito called as he pounded on the dingy white door of apartment 5C. "Manuel Sanchez!"
A disjointed rustling sounded from inside the apartment, accompanied by a muttered "okay, okay." A few moments later the deadbolt clicked and the door creaked open, revealing a surprisingly clean-cut looking hispanic man. Judging by his wardrobe he had just crawled out of bed; he was wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers. The man was about six feet tall and in very good shape, with close-cropped black hair and a single tattoo of the Virgin of Guadelupe on his left deltoid.
"Manuel Sanchez?" Esposito confirmed.
"Ten o'clock on a Saturday, four cops at my door. What did I do this time?" Sanchez asked, his speech very slightly accented.
"Detective Esposito" said Javier, flashing his badge. "Detective Ryan, Beckett, Richard Castle" he introduced. "We need to ask you a few questions about Matthew Davis."
"I don't know Matthew Davis" said Sanchez, moving to close the door.
"Eh eh." Ryan stuck out his arm and held the door open. "You're on parole, buddy. You might wanna consider cooperating. We either talk here or we talk down at the station."
Sanchez looked longingly in the direction of his bedroom across the small but tidy apartment, sighing and rubbing his sleep-swollen eyes. "Ok, I know him. Why?"
"Where'd you know him from?" asked Beckett. Guys like Sanchez were tough. He wasn't just a thug, he was smart enough not to offer up information. This guy wasn't about to incriminate himself.
"We had some business dealings a few years back" said Sanchez.
"Did you know he was back in town?" asked Esposito.
"I did. Called me to give me the good news himself."
"Why would he call you?" asked Esposito.
Sanchez sighed. "He wanted a job. What's this about?"
"What kind of job?" asked Beckett.
"The kind that's gonna settle his debt" said Sanchez, remaining vague. "He owes me almost forty grand. He'll be working for me for a while."
"Hate to break it to ya, Sanchez" Esposito said in a tone of mock apology, " but you're out forty g's. Your new employee was pulled out of the East River yesterday morning."
Sanchez took a slight step back. Either he was a truly gifted actor, or he'd had no idea that Matt was dead.
"Where were you between ten thirty and midnight on Thursday?" Beckett asked.
"I didn't kill Matt" Sanchez insisted. "I didn't even know he was dead."
"Sanchez, where were you?" Beckett repeated.
Sanchez sighed once again. "Thursday night I got thrown out of a bar up the street, The Tavern. I got into a fight with this punk kid and the owner was calling the cops, so I ran the hell up out of there. Like the little guy said, I'm on parole."
"Little guy?" Ryan parroted, looking deeply affronted. Castle looked down at him sympathetically, but shrugged. Beckett fought back a smile.
Sanchez ignored them, focusing on the more intimidating Beckett and Esposito. "Look, talk to the owner. I was there. If you wanna know who killed Davis, find out what he was into out in Cali."
"What do you know about that?" asked Beckett.
"Enough to know it was bad" said Sanchez. "An ex cop calls a felon and asks for a job just so's he can get outta town? That's bad news, man. All Matt told me was that he'd rather work off his debt for me than stay in Cali and end up in a box.''
September 22, 1:50pm
Beckett clanked her desk phone into the reciever and made her way over to Esposito's desk. It was weird having to go to Javi with the details of the investigation instead of Beckett, but Esposito was eating it up. Lead detective on one case and the guy goes on a power trip.
Castle followed Beckett over silently. Since the staring contest with Beckett earlier that morning he had been mostly back to his old self. That had changed about an hour earlier when Castle had asked the Captain for a word. He had emerged from her office a few minutes later looking like his family pet had died, and had remained deep in thought ever since.
Though they had all seen the somber, quiet version of Castle before, Ryan found in no less unnerving. Where were the CIA conspiracy theories? The alien abduction stories? The way this case was shaping up, they could use a wild idea right about now.
"What'd ya find out?" Javi asked, looking up from Badger's financial records, which were strewn across his desk. Badger hadn't flown to New York recently. He also hadn't hired anyone to take out Davis...at least not as far as they could prove.
Castle propped himself on the edge of Ryan's desk, as per usual, and listened in subdued silence as Beckett brought them all up to speed.
"Detective Carter of the LAPD questioned Badger for us" Beckett began. "Badger was collared for an unrelated assault the night of our murder, he got into a bar fight and hit three guys over the head with a pool cue. But since he was incarcerated already, Carter was able to question him at length about Matt. According to Badger, Matt was in debt twenty five thousand-"
Ryan whistled. "Sixty five grand in debt? Was this guy stupid or what?" Beckett glared at him, the scary glare, and Esposito gave him the "Dude. Shut up!" look. "Sorry" Ryan murmured sheepishly.
"Anyway," said Beckett, exasperated, "Badger says that Matt made a hundred thousand dollar bet on something he considered a sure thing, betting to cover his debt with Badger and with Sanchez, I'm guessing. But he lost. So he pulled his twenty K in savings as a good faith gesture, promising Badger that he'd get the rest. Badger wanted more, so he made Matt get rid of incriminating evidence in the murder Badger was accused of. But Matt got fired and Badger knew that not only would the cops keep sniffing around, but he wasn't going to be getting his money any time soon."
"So he wanted Davis dead" said Castle.
"Yep" Beckett confirmed with a nod. "He gave him a couple of months, complete with what Badger called 'incentive', which I'm guessing is where those older bruises came from, and then decided that enough was enough. When Detective Carter told him that Matt was dead, Badger said," she consulted her notepad briefly "and I quote, 'Good. Now I don't have to kill the bastard myself.'"
"So safe to say he had motive" said Ryan.
"But he clearly didn't do it" said Castle. "This guy's been in business a long time, he's not gonna admit to all of that if he actually killed the guy, or had him killed."
"Carter's sure Badger didn't know anything about it" said Beckett. "He says Badger admitted to trying to find Matt, but his guys hadn't figured out that he was in New York yet."
"So" Castle began with a sigh, rubbing his temples in frustration, "this guy was in debt a grand total of a hundred and sixty thousand dollars, to two different bookies, and neither one of them killed him?"
"Looks that way" said Beckett. "This case is nothing but dead ends."
Ryan was disappointed too. A large part of him wanted Sanchez to be guilty if for no other reason than to give Ryan an excuse to slap the cuffs on that guy and shove him into the back of a patrol car. Maybe smack his head into the roof for good measure. Little guy my ass...
"I might have something" Ryan said proudly, rummaging through his notes. "Unies canvassed bars around the SRO where Davis was staying and found the one where he got his final beverage. The manager recognized Davis, said he got into a tussle with one of their regulars, Vinny Antonacchi. Apparently the guy thought Davis was hitting on his girlfriend."
"That would explain the pre-mortem bruising Lanie found" said Beckett. Castle nodded in agreement. "Do we have an address for this guy?"
"Got it right here" said Ryan, holding the slip of paper between his index and middle finger and smirking proudly. Beckett, with her crazy fast reflexes, snatched it away in an instant. Dammit.
While Castle was busy chuckling and Beckett smirking, Esposito's phone rang. After listening for a few moments, he hung up with a smug smile he tried -and failed- to turn into an authoritative, businesslike expression. "Uniforms just found what looks like our crime scene."
"Ok" said Beckett. "Why don't you and Ryan head down there and Castle and I…" Beckett trailed off, looking at Esposito's look of wide-eyed hurt and disappointment. He looked as if someone had just stolen his ice cream cone and knocked over his sand castle. "Sorry" Beckett murmured, clearly unhappy about not being in charge. Ryan snickered.
"Why don't you and Castle go talk to Antonacchi and Ryan and I'll check out our potential crime scene with CSU" said Esposito, looking a little disappointed that Beckett had stolen his thunder.
"You're lead detective and Beckett's still running the show" said Ryan, smiling up at his partner. "How's that make you feel, Boss?"
Esposito smacked him on the back of the head. "Shut up, Ryan."
September 22, 12:42pm
It seemed to Rick that he and Kate had reached some sort of unspoken understanding. There were still things that needed to be said, by both of them, but the precinct wasn't the place and this certainly wasn't the time. Not with the investigation spinning wildly in all directions, all of which were leading to dead ends. Rick understood himself to be forgiven, and that was good enough for him. At least for now.
Something was still eating at him though: Captain Rachel Maddox. He hadn't given her much thought until just a little while ago when she had approached the team for a report on the Davis case. The look of loathing she had shot at Castle almost made him flinch, and she had made more than a few not-so-subtle remarks at Castle's expense throughout the briefing. Oh how he missed Roy Montgomery, especially at times like these.
The she-devil herself was striding across the bullpen toward her office as if summoned from the depths of hell by Castle's negative thoughts. "I'll be right back" he told Beckett, who waved her hand absently, not looking up from her computer screen. Castle made his way toward Maddox and intercepted her a few feet from her office door.
"Can I help you?" Maddox snapped, glaring up at Castle through cold gray eyes.
"May I have a quick word, Captain?" Castle asked, keeping his tone as polite as he could given the always-tense circumstances.
''Are you about to tell me you're leaving the precinct?" Maddox asked "Because that's just about the only conversation I'd be interested in having with you."
"It won't take long" Castle said calmly, waiting patiently and enduring her appraising glare with his best poker face.
"You have two minutes" she snapped, and Castle followed her into the office.
It didn't feel right in there, even after all these months. This should be Montgomery's office. It should smell faintly of musky cologne and fine scotch, which should be emanating from the glass bottles on the side table. It should be orderly but lived-in, not bland and sterile. It should be filled with haphazardly arranged plaques and awards reading "Roy Montgomery" not sprinkled with prominently displayed commendations bearing the name "Rachel Maddox." There should be an autographed baseball on the corner of the desk, but in its place was a plain glass paperweight. Roy's unique character had been erased from the office when Maddox bulldozed in, but somehow Castle could still feel his comforting presence in the room.
"You don't like me" Castle began, taking a seat across from Maddox in one of the uncomfortable chairs that adorned her office. Maddox's face remained a mask, but confusion flitted across her eyes. "You don't like me, and you haven't liked me since before we met. That's fine, because frankly I don't like you either."
"Is there a point to this, Mr. Castle? Or are you just trying to flatter me with your unending wit and charm?"
Castle smirked. "As I said, I don't care that you don't like me. But yesterday you were hell-bent on getting me arrested for a crime I didn't commit, and unless I'm grossly misreading your reaction, highly unlikely, you were disappointed when Ryan and Esposito proved my innocence." Maddox simply raised her eyebrows, issuing no denial, so Castle continued. "I don't particularly enjoy finding myself on the verge of being thrown in jail, so I'd just like to ask: why the hell do you hate me so much?"
"I realize that your ego is astoundingly large, but surely you must know that not everyone in the world likes you" said Maddox coldly.
"I do" Castle acknowledged. "Until a few years ago this would've been news to me, but I've grown up quite a bit since I started working with Detectives Beckett, Ryan and Esposito." Castle met her gaze unflinchingly. "You didn't answer my question."
Maddox narrowed her eyes menacingly, but Castle didn't waver. She was nowhere near as scary as Beckett. "I don't like you because you use your fame, your money, and your friends in high places to bulldoze your way through rules and regulations which were put in place for a purpose. You are a civilian, and while I acknowledge that your insights have been helpful in solving cases from time to time, you have neither the training nor the skill to be in the situations you have repeatedly put yourself in. I don't trust you. Civilian ride-alongs are dangerous for the officers they are riding with, and your ride along has gone so past far enough it's absurd. You have been exposed to secrets that are vital to our national security, and that puts our country at risk. You go rogue, and force my detectives to go rogue with you, on a regular basis, putting both them and yourself in danger. So far you've been lucky. But when your luck inevitably runs out and you get stabbed, or shot, or blown up, or killed I will be the one that has to pick up the pieces. My ass will be on the line. I will be explaining to your mother and your child and your adoring fans why you're dead.
"That's why I didn't like you at first. Then I actually met you. You're a loose cannon. You fly off at the mouth. You're never serious. You disrespect authority and do whatever Richard Castle wants regardless of who tells you not to. You're immature, spoiled, arrogant, and you think the world revolves around you. Not to mention the fact that you've had the audacity to be on my case, telling me how to do my job, since day one. You've done nothing to prove my initial perception wrong, in fact you've managed to re-enforce it. Why would I like you? I know you've managed to weasel your way into the good graces of my entire staff in the past few years, but I can't be bought with espresso machines and bear claws and takeout, Mr. Castle. And the only reason I keep you around is because there would be a riot in the precinct if I did what I want to do, not to mention the politicians I'd have breathing down my back. But give me an excuse, Castle, and you're out the door. Permanently."
Castle, the man who had written twenty nine and a half best selling novels, was utterly speechless. He had absolutely no response. What to address first? The fact that he was immature initially, but he had grown so much in the past four years that he was practically a different person now? Or the fact that, though he had admittedly been in situations he wasn't trained to handle, Kate Beckett would've been killed several times over had he not been there? What about the fact that the 12th was the only place with people who knew the real Rick Castle and liked him for who he was, not what he could buy for them?
Would Maddox believe him even if he did say those things?
"I believe your two minutes are up" said the Captain, her voice full of ice-cold venom. She opened the file she had carried into her office and smacked it down on the desktop with entirely too much force, her eyes never leaving Castle's.
Still to stunned to speak, Castle rose and strode out of the office wondering if he would've been better off not knowing.
