Guardian Angel
Chapter 41
Face flushed with excitement, Alexis vaults onto her stool at the counter. "You look cheery," Rick observes, sliding a plate with an egg-white omelet and three slices of turkey bacon in front of her.
Alexis notes the bounce with which her father moves from the stove to the refrigerator. "So do you. Did you and Detective Beckett have a good time last night? I saw her purse on the chair when I came in."
Sparks of remembrance gleam in Castle's eyes. "Yeah, we did, and what is putting the smile on your lightly glossed lips?"
"My lesson last night, Dad. Dylan was fantastic! I learned so much about technique and how to feel the music."
"Wait, Dylan? What happened to Olga? I liked Olga."
"She retired. She wants to spend more time with her grandchildren. Maybe she'll give them some of the hard candy that bulged out of her pockets all the time. But anyway, Dylan is a better musician and a better teacher. He started taking classes at Juilliard at 10, and they accepted him for early admission while he was still a junior in high school. He's in his last year now. He's so immersed in the joy of music; it's contagious.
"I got really lucky too. One of his private students is moving to Boston to study at the conservatory there. I got the spot. I'll have lessons here with Dylan every Thursday evening. Isn't that wonderful?"
"It is if it makes you this happy. Just so I know, in case I'm the one who answers the door, what does this Dylan look like?" Rick queries.
Alexis pulls her phone out of her pocket and brings up an image. "This is him, Dylan Fulton."
Castle regards the picture of an excessively good-looking young man. "He looks very, um, nice."
"He is Dad. You'll like him."
"I'm sure I will." Rick turns back to the kitchen and beats an unnecessary batch of batter — hard.
"Something wrong, Babe?" Kate asks as Rick plops into the chair next to her desk. "You agreed that it wasn't a bad idea for me to leave last night. I did need to check on my mail and my apartment."
"Yeah, I know," Castle acknowledges. "I'd much rather wake up to your beautiful face, but that's not the problem. It's Alexis' new violin teacher, her young, handsome violin teacher, Dylan Fulton. Something about him makes me uncomfortable."
"That he is young, male, and handsome, and Alexis is a teenage girl?"
"Exactly. I did a background check on him and didn't find any criminal history, but then many sexual assaults go unreported."
"Too many," Kate adds.
Rick nods vigorously. "Am I being overprotective? Mother says I am."
"Your mother, who exposed her little boy to backstage activities he would have been too young to see in a movie?"
"She's the only one I have. And as you have so aptly pointed out, I'm not sure I can trust her judgment in the matter. According to Alexis — and his Facebook page — Dylan goes to Juilliard. One of the authors I play cards with is on the board there. I was considering making inquiries. Would that be over the top?"
"I don't think so, Babe, but I'm not sure Alexis would agree with me. She's independent, even for a teenager. She reminds me a little of the way I was at that age, except that she's into the violin, not motorcycles. I hung around with a couple of characters that probably gave my dad nightmares."
"They did," Johanna interjects. "And he had his investigator check on them. You just never knew about it. Your dad worried about you. There's nothing wrong with Rick worrying about his little girl."
"Make the call, Castle," Kate advises, "but brace yourself for what will happen if Alexis finds out."
"I think I'll take a walk and do that," Rick decides. "I can use the air — unless there's something going on here."
"It's pretty quiet," Kate admits. "Right now, all we're doing is crosschecking each other's reports. Take your time."
After striding the ten blocks to a nearby pocket park, Rick settles on a bench to make his call. Of course, it goes to voicemail. Rick does the best he can to make his plea sound urgent but not crazy. He decides that as long as he has his phone in his hand, he might as well check his newsfeed. A headline immediately grabs his attention. A Bracken LABA rally was canceled with no warning or explanation, and reporters were unable to reach Bracken for comment.
The spokesperson for the campaign would only say that the candidate was attending to urgent matters. "Urgent matters," Rick mutters, "like trying to avoid being questioned about a string of murders?" Springing from his seat, he hurries in the direction of the 12th Precinct. Kate may be able to find out what's going on.
"Where's my lawyer?" Bracken demands as U.S. Attorney Joyce Meacham coolly takes in his growing distress.
"On the way, Bracken. You might as well settle down," Joyce advises. "You're going to be here for a while — a long while. I'll send one of my people in to keep you company and get you some coffee while you wait for your counsel to arrive."
"You had no right to arrest me," Bracken protests, "As a member of Congress, I have constitutional protections."
"If you'd actually read the Constitution, which I assume you must have been required to do at some point in law school, you would know full well that those protections only apply when you are going back and forth to the chamber or performing your duties on the floor. And you have no shield at all from felony charges. Believe me. There will be a great many of those, including conspiracy in multiple homicides."
"My lawyers will impeach any witnesses you have," Bracken declares.
"They can try," Meacham allows, "but documents are unimpeachable, and we have a lot of them. We have you, Bracken, and you're not the only one we have. However, there's no point in discussing this until your attorney arrives. You might as well accept the coffee. You're going to have a very long day."
Commissioner Tuohy suspiciously sniffs his smoked salmon. "This better be Nova Scotia. That other stuff is way too salty. So, I gave you the earliest spot I could, Leo, 12 hours ahead of our set time. What's so important?"
"For one thing, the F.B.I. is picking up your man Sledge, if they haven't already."
"Sledge? Why? He's a paper pusher, but a good one."
"He's a mole, Jack. He's been facilitating the operations of some very bad and powerful people. The lid is on the whole matter, but I wanted to give you a heads up. Right now, your answer to the press about anything involving Sledge or any of his associations should be 'No comment.'"
Tuohy tears off a piece of his bagel and tops it with cream cheese. "That won't be hard. I don't know a damn thing I could tell them. How big is this Lou, and how bad a hit will the department take?"
"It's huge, Jack. It's going to shake up a lot of quarters, quarters with heavy hitters. But if the department goes along and makes sure its house is clean, the N.Y.P.D. should come out of this as heroes. That especially goes for the 12th Precinct and a detective named Kate Beckett. And while we're on the subject of the 12th, Roy Montgomery's budget strings could use a little loosening, if you want to keep looking good to the press."
"When I get an idea of what's actually happening with this thing, whatever it is, I'll give the budget issue another look," Tuohy promises.
