Chapter 11 – The Lawyer


The Bistro was cosy, warm autumn tones of oranges and browns and reds adding cheerfulness to the wooden panelling and furniture. Rick paused just inside the doorway, eyes scanning the tables for a possible candidate as Detective Beckett's father. A slim, tight-faced individual sitting in a booth to one side was looking his way and something about the features struck a chord with Rick; the photos of the detective were well etched into his mind, the constant perusal making her almost familiar to him. The gentleman in question had that unspecific familiar look about him which made Rick turn and thread his way towards the booth.

The man stood as Rick approached, eyes hooded, hand held out, neither antagonism nor amicability showing through.

"Mister Beckett?" he inquired, shaking the proffered hand. Instinctively he took in the firm handshake, supple hands, smooth skin and neatly manicured nails, but there was nothing soft about it, they would be agile fingers, good at handling all those small, tricky items … unlike his own rather clumsy ones that were more apt to drop a screw or fumble with a sim card.

Pale blue eyes stared back at him, curiosity and wariness shading them. Dark circles beneath told of sleeplessness and preoccupation, the thin lips indicating Beckett senior was holding everything in.

He liked the first impression, guessed this man was one of those who knew how to keep secrets. Beckett senior would be totally trustworthy but would not take kindly to being lied to. Rick had met several such men throughout his life, in different cultures and different countries … yet they all had one thing in common, they were straight dealers, men who hated wasting time and effort in pleasantries or protocol, preferring to cut to the chase and apply their intellect to the matter in hand.

He took the indicated seat across the table and glanced quickly at the glass of clear liquid sitting there.

"Tonic water" came the dry voice from across the booth and Rick nodded, managing to hide the slight embarrassment as he slipped the coat off his shoulders and made himself comfortable, then let a slow smile touch his lips; this was going to be no walk in the park.

They sat silently as the waitress approached, setting down a couple of menu cards and taking Rick's order of coffee. He allowed his eyes to wonder round the room, taking in the smartly dressed crowd as she moved away with a nod. This was obviously a business luncheon place, somewhere where the local professionals came to eat, where business could be discussed and companies picked up the tabs. The food would be good, neither outlandishly expensive nor exotically presented, just good, simple and straightforward … a bit like the man sitting across from him.

The arrival of his coffee interrupted his thoughts and confirmed his belief, the aroma rising from the cup telling him this was quality stuff, not the over boiled, watered-down version so popular with diners the country over.

He didn't miss the look of amusement in Beckett's face as he took a tentative sip of the coffee, before the other man looked down at his own glass and pushed it aside. The lawyer crossed his arms on the table, leant forwards slightly and gave Castle a hard-eyed stare. "What is it are you're after Mister Castle?"

Rick set his cup down, the excellent coffee peppering his mouth with the sharp aftertaste and he looked up at the worried man across the table. Her father was doing a good job of keeping the panic at bay, of presenting a solid front, dignity and strength his shield against this new tragedy. But Castle was able to see past that, to the fear and anger burning like coals in the back of the eyes. He wondered how much it was taking out of him to keep off the drink, to not go down the same hole he had done after his wife's death. He wondered how long before the man's strength of will gave out.

"Mister Beckett, I know sympathy and platitudes are useless here, the NYPD and the FBI are doing all they can, I know they have looked into your daughter's arrest records, have checked and double-checked anyone whom she has arrested and who might have a desire to do her harm. I know the FBI has profiled the case, has looked into possible suspects, I know her team have followed every clue they've come across and I know that Commissioner Reagan has taken a personal interest in the matter …"

"But?" the lawyer was watching him closely, eyes narrowed, the question dropping off his lips when Castle let his voice run out. The journalist looked around, took in those at the nearest table who were absorbed in their own conversation, his and Beckett's just one more in this roomful of quiet conversations.

He brought his eyes back to the older man and gave a slightly eloquent shrug. "I think they're all chasing the wrong clues," watching as the man before him pushed back from the table, lips tightening in anger and eyes drilling into him. He waited, allowing Beckett to worry his comment, his lawyer's brain looking at the case from a new, unexpected angle. Several minutes seemed to pass before the shoulders relaxed slightly, the arms coming back to cross themselves on the table and Castle let a silent sigh of relief whisper across his lips.

"You must have a reason for that astonishing belief," the words posed more as a question than an affirmation.

Castle shrugged, looked up at him and said, "Not so much a belief …. more a guess, perhaps an intuition?" Getting a nod, he continued, "As far as I'm aware, there is no spate of kidnappings taking place in New York … that you're daughter, an armed Detective should be the single victim of a kidnapping only makes sense if someone were out to punish her or to force a third party to act in a specific way."

He watched as the look in her father's eyes became more interested, the anger dying down to its previous embers. Getting a small wave of a hand he continued, "In the first scenario, almost a month into the case, the investigations by both the FBI and the NYPD would have had to throw something up, even just a breath of suspicion; an unwary word, a phone call, a visit to an inmate, something that would connect to possible suspects. I have it on good authority, that they have nothing; though there are a number of people who would no doubt be happy to seek revenge on your daughter, none of them appear to be involved, which either exonerates them … or makes them incredibly smart. In my experience, people who end up in jail are not particularly smart … cunning, crafty perhaps … not incredibly smart."

He finished his coffee and pushed it aside, "In the second case scenario, I can only think of one person whom her kidnapping could possibly influence …" pausing to raise his eyebrows at the lawyer, the widening eyes telling him of the other man's surprise at his conclusion and confirming his original doubts, "I believe you deal in corporate law?" and on getting a nod, "I find it difficult to imagine someone trying to force your hand by sequestering your daughter … I could be wrong, but it doesn't make much sense to me."

From the look on Beckett senior's face, it didn't make much sense to him either. He watched as the lawyer reached out for his glass and took a sip of the liquid, grimacing slightly and looking depreciatingly at the contents before replacing it on the table.

"Ok, so you don't think any of those my daughter has put away over her thirteen years as a cop …" pausing with raised eyebrows as he saw the squirm of Castles shoulders.

"I'd say more likely the last seven, maybe ten years at most; I doubt she had much to do with putting people away either as a trainee or during her first few years as a beat cop. Those kind of arrests tend to be for misdemeanour or minor felony charges and hardly likely to involve revenge ten, thirteen years later," Rick offered with a half-apologetic shrug.

A smile tugged at her father's lips as he nodded in acceptance, "Ok, allow me to rephrase then, you don't believe that anyone whom she has arrested during her career as a member of the NYPD is involved in her disappearance, and I can confirm that no one has either attempted to, or suggested coercing me in any way. That still leaves me in a puzzle as to what could have motivated her disappearance," unable to hide the worry or fear as he uttered the last part of the sentence.

"I believe it has to do with something outside of her career or her relationship with you sir, perhaps something that is totally disconnected from either of those … and I need to have more of an insight into her … into her life, to see if I'm the one barking up the wrong tree or not"

Jim Beckett glanced at the hovering waitress, then at the journalist sitting opposite him. "You hungry?" he asked. Castle shook his head and the lawyer nodded, called for the tab and said, "Then let's get out of here, take a walk."

Both men hunched into their coats as they stepped out of the Bistro and into the chill air sweeping in off the East River. Wordlessly Jim Beckett turned left and Castle followed him, their steps not quite in unison as they crossed the street by the corner and made their way down the few steps onto the lower level walkway along the river. Thin, spartan trees struggled for dignity along the vacant parking spaces and the cold light glinted off the waters running south. Flags on the poles outside The Water Club building flapped desultorily in the breeze, and Castle was beginning to regret leaving the warmth of the diner when his companion indicated a bench seat overlooking the river.

Hunters Point was visible across the river, a black and white ferry churning the busy water as it cut across towards the terminal just a little north of where they had taken their seat. The breeze whipped Rick's hair over his brow and he ran a hand across, pushing it back, watching the man sitting next to him as he stared out across the water, face inscrutable, body leaning forwards slightly, the hunched shoulders indicating some inner debate.

Eventually he turned his head to face Rick and said, "She's an independent so-and-so, my daughter. Always has been. Gave her mother and I more than one headache over the years." He paused and turned back to contemplate the river. "What's your angle in this Mister Castle?"

"Rick, please call me Rick. I don't have an angle," shrugging in self-depreciation, "at least, not in the way you're insinuating. I have great admiration for our Law Enforcement Agencies; they do a tough job for little reward and often even less recognition. I have no qualms about going after anyone, in a journalistic sense, who crosses the line or contravenes the law, be they movers and shakers, cops or criminals. But something about your daughter's disappearance makes my Spidey senses tingle, I can't tell you why or what it is that's off … but something just doesn't sit right with me about it"

There was a surprising chuckle from the man sitting next to him, "Your Spidey senses huh?" and Castle couldn't help colouring up at the ridiculousness of the phrase now he'd had it thrown back at him. Before he could try to make amends, Beckett turned to face him and held out his hand, "Jim, call me Jim."

Castle gave him a rueful smile and shook the proffered hand, a repeat of what they'd done in the diner, but somewhere the between then and now, something had shifted, some subtle change which he couldn't quite place but was happy to run with.

"So Rick, what do you need to know exactly … I don't promise to answer you, but I'll consider what you have to say, ok?"

Rick nodded in acceptance, hesitated a moment and then decided to leave his notebook in his pocket. He wanted to keep this as informal as possible.

"I spoke at length with Lanie the other day, she gave me quite a bit of background information on your daughter, and there were a few things that struck me as unusual, I'm not sure how much you can help me out here or how much you're willing to impart … for all I know, they may have nothing to do with her disappearance, nor do I want to intrude in private issues … but anything you're willing to impart might help me to get her story straight in my mind."

"Her story?" the query coming with upraised eyebrows and downturned mouth.

Rick rubbed his chin with his hand and then gave a dismissive gesture "Sorry not the best choice of words. When I look at something like this, there has to be, in my mind, a story line, a beginning, middle and end. People don't just commit murder or rob a bank or disappear on the spur of the moment, there has to be a trigger, something that sets them off down a path, and along that path there have to be reasons that makes their choices at specific moments relevant, and in the end, those very motives, those same choices tend to lead to a specific conclusion, a specific result. Knowing what those triggers are, understanding why a person reacts in a specific way can allow you to narrow down the options, to look for the clues in a particular tree rather than a particular forest. I … I'm sorry, not sure that made much sense, but it's how I work."

He watched the man nod, "Yeah, I get what you mean, even if it was a little dressed up. Knowing if a company is healthy or trying to hide losses makes me look at contracts in a different light. The Law doesn't allow for much leeway, but suspicion makes you hunt extra hard for the camouflaged clauses."

A river patrol went past, lights flashing, outboards kicking up a thick, wide wash, water creaming at the bows. They watched it in silence for a few moments, saw the wake widen behind the fast diminishing shape, rippling across the river and rocking the few pleasure boats braving the weather.

Beckett turned back to the writer, fixed him with cool, blue-grey eyes and asked, "Ok Rick, remembering that I may decide not to answer you, what's your first question?"

Castle hesitated a moment, he had a sudden vision of himself several years from now facing the same question. He would quite possibly be extremely angry … and uncomfortable with it, but he needed to know.

"When I spoke to Lanie, she mentioned the relationships your daughter has had over the last several years, Detectives Esposito and Ryan have looked into them … and found nothing to connect them to her disappearance …" he cleared his throat gently, before continuing, "I just wondered if perhaps there might have been anyone Lanie or the detectives might have been unaware of, someone else who might have had a reason …"