A Different Shade of Pale
Chapter 55
Castle and Beckett looked at the footage Ryan threw up on the big screen in Tech. The camera had caught an image through the front windshield of a large black sedan. A very dead Donovan was slumped in the passenger seat. At the wheel was a blurry Vulcan Simmons. Ryan brought up another angle. "This is the license plate. It's a Lincoln. The car isn't registered to Simmons. It belongs to a Carl Worthmore who had it at Car Stars to be pimped out. He had no idea it was on the road last night. The problem is Simmons' lawyers are claiming that's not him and the image isn't good enough for a high confidence level on facial recognition."
Castle rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his face creasing in a smug smile. "I think we can do better. My people monitored a call into Car Stars last night. The voice receiving the call was definitely Vulcan Simmons. The message was an instruction to put an end to a problem cop who wanted a bigger piece. We also have surveillance video hacked from Car Stars security system showing two guys loading Donovan into the passenger seat of the Lincoln and Simmons sticking a gun back in a holster before getting behind the wheel. It's all on its way now."
Simmons smiled confidently at Beckett across the table in interrogation. "Didn't you take a lesson the last time, Detective? My lawyers already saw the evidence against me. You'll never make it past arraignment."
Castle took the narrative while Beckett gazed unflinchingly at Simmons. "While it is true that your lawyers have seen the evidence gathered by the stalwart efforts of the N.Y.P.D., new evidence has come to light at the hands of civic minded private citizens." Castle pushed stills of Simmons getting into the Lincoln in front of the defiant dealer.
"We have more, more than enough to get a warrant to look for blood, gunshot residue, anything we need to put you away forever." Beckett declared triumphantly. "You have one chance. Give us the man who gave the order."
Simmons stared back defiantly. "I am giving you nothing, Detective."
"Have it your way," Beckett returned. "You may be reconsidering very soon." Beckett nodded at the one way mirror and two uniformed officers came into interrogation to take Simmons to holding.
"He still had his bluster, but did you see his fingers were twitching and he was starting to sweat," Castle noted when Simmons had been led away.
"I saw, Babe. Tanu gave us enough so that CSU will be going over Car Stars, Simmons' apartment, everywhere we know Simmons has been. We may already have enough to make Simmons flip, but anything they find should seal the deal. In the meantime, sitting in holding won't make him any less nervous, especially if we stick Leo in with him."
Gleeful crinkles formed at the corners of Castle's eyes. "The six foot six white supremacist with the tattoos on his face?"
Beckett nodded, the rattle of a giggle in her throat. "That's him. I heard he just got picked up again on a stop and frisk. He had four guns on him and no permits for any of them. He's also wearing a 'White Makes Right' t-shirt. He and Simmons should just love each other. We could just leave them together overnight while the lab processes whatever CSU brings in."
"Why Detective Beckett, your underhandedness is impressive. Just one thing, let's get the surveillance video from holding to watch later. I'll make the popcorn."
Kate toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "Castle, I think that might be arranged."
A cowed Vulcan Simmons sat quietly next to his attorney, Bill Moss. "Here's the situation," Beckett explained. "CSU found blood matching Marcus Donovan in a Lincoln containing your client's fingerprints. Your client was on video getting into that Lincoln with a gun. The clothes he wore in that video were positive for gunshot residue. A gun was found at his apartment and ballistics matched it to the bullet that killed Donovan. The case is open and shut. Your client murdered a police officer. He will go to prison for life. The question is, how long that life will be."
"New York has no death penalty," Moss interrupted. "It was abolished in 2007."
"New York doesn't, but the man your client works for does. He makes a habit of cleaning up loose ends. Marcus Donovan was a loose end, a cop on the take who got too greedy. Now your client is the loose end, counselor. His boss has no difficulty having people killed in prison. He's already done it with another cop killer. As things stand now, your client's a dead man, it's just a matter of whose shiv is going to find his gut at Rikers. But if he gives us his contacts, his boss, then he goes into the segregated population. He'll be protected. If the D.A. is feeling really generous, he might even get a few comforts." Beckett turned to Simmons. "Right now, whatever future you have is in your hands. It's a better deal than my mother got."
Moss rose from the table. "I'm afraid that from this moment, I'm resigning as Mr. Simmons' attorney." Moss walked out of the room and kept going to the elevator.
Castle raised an eyebrow at an increasingly agitated Simmons. "Looks like your lawyer didn't want to become another of your bosses loose ends."
"Alright!" Simmons blurted out, an octave above his usual rumbling tones. "The man behind all this is William Bracken, senator William Bracken. My guess is that Mama's girl already knows that. But I haven't seen Bracken face to face or heard from him directly since his old D.A. days. He works hard to keep those lily white hands clean. I deal through his associate, a slick pol like his boss, name of Jason Marx."
"Did Jason Marx order the hit on Donovan?" Beckett asked.
"He did," Simmons confirmed, "but I can't testify that it was on Bracken's orders. The man just said those were his instructions. He didn't say from whom."
Beckett pushed a legal pad and a pen under Simmons' hands. "You give us everything you have and I mean everything. Then we'll see what we can do to help you see another day."
Beckett put down her phone and palmed her forehead at her desk. Castle returned from preparing drinks in the break room and took his accustomed chair next to her. "We still don't have Bracken, Castle. The phone calls, emails, everything we got from Tanu, they lead to Marx. We know Marx works for Bracken but we can't prove the connection. Bracken's been too careful. He name isn't actually on anything Marx has done. Marx is an independent contractor."
"So you bring Marx in and sweat him, Beckett. You have Simmons' statement and everything from Tanu. You'll find a way to get a connection to Bracken out of him. He's in as much danger as Simmons now. With Simmons caught, he's the next loose end. Unless the man is totally clueless he knows that. He's got to be running scared."
"That's just it, Castle. He is running. He checked out of his hotel. He didn't even take a cab, so we can't trace him that way. One of Tanu's cousins saw him heading for the subway. He could have been going anywhere. We ordered the transit video, but even if he's on it, there's no way to know where he is now. I have a watch on the airports and on the trains, but he could have picked up a car somewhere. We tagged his cards, but nothing's shown up yet. If he has drug money, he could be doing everything in cash."
"So we look for cash," Castle suggested. "Almost no one does transactions that way anymore. You can't rent a car without a card or a huge deposit. Renting rooms with cash is suspicious. And don't the drug guys like to use big bills? He could be using hundreds. Those are memorable. A lot of places won't even take them. You put a call out on the web, the social media, even the regular media. Even if he's disguised and using a phony name, someone may remember the money."
"Castle, sometimes I forget what a genius you are."
"Yeah," Castle smiled, "I know."
