Just wanted to take a moment to thank tortzman for being the 200th follower!
Fascinated, Castle slowly sank to a squat, to scrutinize the corpse. The strings had caused deep indentations in his neck. The puppet was a tangle of jointed wooden limbs, painted in garish colors. The cross piece lay on the cement beside the victim's left ear, but one of the eye-screws had pulled free and lay at the end of the string with bits of splinters caught in the grooves.
"I don't think the puppet itself is going to be any help," he said, noting the gold foil sticker common to mass produced imports. "However, if that screw hit the attacker and transferred bits of wood, that could help us. I can tell you that our victim has no respect for his tailor."
"What makes you say that?" asked Ryan, their aspiring snappy dresser.
"Look at the knees. There appear to be pulls in the fabric, like he knelt on something abrasive. That's a crime against textiles." He scanned the area. "No witnesses, of course."
"Nah," Esposito supplied. "If anyone spots two people getting up close and personal, they mind their own business."
"The strings are pulled at an upward angle, it would have had to have been a taller person, most likely male from the strength that was used," Lanie added.
On the way back to the precinct, they theorized about motive. "A puppet is a very interesting choice for a murder weapon. What if it's symbolic? The victim manipulated someone, or was controlling, maybe a tyrannical boss?" Castle offered.
Once they had identified the victim, one Martin Horn, they were able to determine that he was the managing partner at a law firm. They conducted interviews with enough people to determine that they had no shortage of suspects. They began with subordinates, particularly some that he had elbowed aside while climbing the ladder of success. Defeated courtroom opponents would fill next week's interview list, should it become necessary. One candidate already stood out, a paralegal by the name of Greg Murray, who seemed to be Horn's personal whipping boy. This was according to three different sources, including one who'd overheard Murray claim that he'd taken enough of Horn's crap.
Castle's fingers tightened into a fist around an imaginary rope, a leash on his own composure. So long as he held fast to it, his jittery nerves wouldn't betray him. His eyes had been scanning the apartment of their suspect non-stop, and he could feel the fatigue setting in, but he had to remain vigilant. Behind him, he heard Beckett rifling through papers. So intent was he on listening for telltale sounds of trouble approaching them, that her voice speaking his name was an assault on his eardrums
"What?" he replied without turning around. Beckett studied him, the rigidness in his spine, and knew. Walking up behind him, she gently grasped his elbow, attempting to swivel him around to face her. It was like trying to move a statue.
"Castle," she said again, compassion filling her tone. She moved herself into his line of sight, noting the way his jaw clenched, the way his gaze flitted to every potential port of entry. "I see what you're doing, but I don't need a bodyguard here. I need my partner. I need that guy who looks at things and sees what I might not see."
"That's how, last time…" he seemed to choke trying to recount it. "I saw the danger."
"Yes, you did," she replied patiently. "But that was a freak occurrence. We swept the apartment, there are no hiding places, and uniforms are posted outside. Now. I can do this without you, but I do it better with you. Are you going to help me?"
He smiled then, his eyes saying more than his voice was permitted to within earshot of officers who were not in on their secret. He turned and added his observational efforts to hers. Scanning the bookshelf, he spotted one of his own novels. "Hey, he's a fan," he noted, plucking the tome from the shelf. "I wonder if I signed…"
Beckett turned at his gasp. The book had been hollowed out to create a hiding place for an e-reader. "How dare he desecrate…" he began.
"Really, Castle?" she retorted, pulling out an evidence bag. "Focus, ok? If he had a word processing program, there might be threatening emails on here. Let's get this to tech."
After the evidence had been submitted, they went to grab lunch. Just as they were re-entering the building, Castle's phone went off. He glanced at the screen and grunted, doing a smooth turn back to the street. "Yes, Gina?" he answered flatly.
When he'd completed the call and returned to the bullpen, he found Beckett sitting at her desk, seemingly trying to glare a hole in her computer screen. "Something wrong?" he asked cautiously.
"There was no incriminating evidence on the e-reader. Greg Murray turned up, came in for questioning, apparently he was only hiding it from his roommate who is prone to theft. Then I heard from Lanie. She found some fibers on the knees of the pants, like he knelt on a blanket that was the same color as the pants. CSU found the same fibers on the pavement. So it looks like our assailant did not have to be taller than the vic, they made him kneel to make it seem that way. Good catch, incidentally." He nodded distractedly. "Castle, what's wrong?"
"What makes you think anything is?" he evaded.
"Because normally when I point out how major one of your contributions is, you start begging me for another chocolate badge."
"It's nothing. Gina's on my case to finish some revisions. I need to get home, and it's going to take me all night. Breakfast tomorrow?"
She nodded, extending her fingers for a handshake. He held on an extra beat, gave an extra squeeze, conveying how badly he would miss her.
Apparently there was a problem with the alerts for the last chapter, so if you would be so kind as to let me know if you were alerted to this update, or if you just happened upon the story, I would be most grateful.