The Woman in the Yellow Dress
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: I own neither Castle nor a yellow dress. Rating: K Time: Early season five. Others know Kate and Rick are a couple, but not Gates.
"And now to business. Mike di Falco was a reasonably minor underboss when the Spolanos got sent up. He may have been junior in the family, but he was smart and tough. He took over all the family businesses and no one even said boo about it." Vinnie smiled. "Well, the ones who might have said boo were either in prison and in hiding in some faraway country. Not that I know anything about that. Johnny the Axe was loyal to his brother. He knew damned well that Mike was the brains in the family and he was the muscle. Mike even let people like me retire gracefully as long as we caused no trouble. So, Mike is thoroughly in charge of the Spolano, and now the di Falco, family."
"No one in the family was ambitious?" Kate asked.
Vinnie shrugged expressively.
"There always are, but none of them were dumb enough to try anything with Mike solidly in charge."
"Was there anyone in the other families who might have been...ambitious?" Castle asked.
"As people have found, it's very hard to keep secrets in the 21st century. The Five Families keep a close watch on one another, but, everyone is more worried about the other groups who are in competition with the Families."
"Do you think it was a Black gang?" Kate asked. "Three young Black men were seen running away from the crime scene."
"That, no one knows. What we do know is that the three young men were young, early teens, maybe fifteen or sixteen at the most. They spoke American English, so it wasn't some Jamaican or Caribbean gang. They didn't wear the kind of bling that young Black gangsters sport these days, although one had a Kobe Bryant Lakers' jersey on. He was the tallest one, about six feet, maybe a bit shorter. One of them, maybe the tall one, was called Jaquille. Maybe. The three seemed to be upset about what had happened, worried even. Not like some gang bangers who'd just made a hit on a guy. And that is what I know."
Kate thought for a moment.
"You seem to have a lot more information than the police got."
Vinnie smiled.
"Kate, the police send out some stern law enforcement type to get information from people who'd rather not get involved. Other people send out friendly folks who hand out pictures of dead presidents. Although I confess to being a fan of Mr. Benjamin Franklin, who never was a President."
Kate had to admit that the di Falco's system would work better than the NYPD's.
"Rick, I'm headed out to the Hamptons now. Since I'm a retired gentleman of leisure now, I'm thinking of taking up sailing. Do you know anything about boats?"
Rick shook his head.
"Not a thing, really."
"When I get my boat, you should come up and we'll go out. But, if you're no longer with the beautiful Ms. Beckett, I promise to throw you overboard tied to an anchor."
Castle laughed.
"You don't have to worry about that, Vinnie."
Once back in the town car, Rick asked Kate a question.
"Would some gang really use kids for shooters?"
"They can and do. They figure a twelve or thirteen year old kid will be tried as a juvenile and will be out in a few years. An adult shooter could get life."
When they reported to Captain Gates at the precinct the next day, she seemed both annoyed that they had so little useful information and happy that the chief of detectives' idea hadn't worked. Rick and Kate made their exit from her office as fast as they could.
Once at her desk, Espo gave them some news.
"You got a call from Officer Hastings. She's got a line on Wellington." He handed Kate a post-it with an address on it.
Arriving at the address, they found Hastings looking upset.
"I knew right where he was, Detective, and now he's gone."
"Where was he?"
"O'Hara's Joynt. It's a low rent dive bar that caters to the down and outs. They sell over priced fortified wine and toss their customers out when they run out of money."
"Let's go see what we can find out."
The three walked into the bar. Castle decided that this was the lowest of low rent dive bars. He tried to keep from inhaling the odor of the place, which seemed to be equal parts urine, a strong disinfectant and spilled, cheap alcohol with overtones of vomit.
"You O'Hara?" Kate demanded of the man behind the bar.
"I'm Olaf Swenson. I own the place."
"You named your place O'Hara's Joynt when your name is Swenson?" Castle asked.
"That was the name of the place before Swenson here bought it." Hastings explained. "I don't think anyone really knows who O'Hara was, or even if there ever was one."
"Cheaper to just leave the sign the way it was." Swenson added.
"I'm looking for a Walter Wellington, called Windy." Kate said, trying to control her distaste for the man. Her father had spent his drinking days in more upscale places than this, but the places he drank were happy to take his money and send him home when he ran out.
"Do I look like their mother or something?" Swenson shot back. "This is a bar. You want a drink, order one, otherwise, leave."
Kate smiled coldly at him.
"You're getting rich off of these men. Do you want to jeopardize that by getting into a beef with the NYPD, because I can oblige you? As far as I'm concerned, you're a material witness in a murder case. I could interview you for days. Oh, you could call a lawyer, of course, but they cost money."
One of the drunks raised his head off of the bar.
"Jesus, Officer, don't shut the place down. This is the best place we have to drink. Windy was hauled out of here earlier by one of Father O'Brien's people."
"Father O'Brien?"
"Runs the Saint Francis Mission, they're Catholics. Turn right as you leave here and go two blocks. You can't miss it."
Father Francis Xavier O'Brien may have stepped of the boat from the Olde Sod more than fifty years ago, but he was still as Irish as they came.
"The NYPD, you say? Looking for our Walter? He's a good boy, is Walter, just a bit mixed up. Now why would you be wanting to talk to the lad?"
"It's in connection with a murder. He may be able to help us." Kate replied.
"Ah, I see. You suspect him."
"I didn't say that." She insisted,
Hoping to head off a confrontation, Castle spoke.
"Can you tell us where Walter was last Tuesday?"
"He was brought in by Father O'Malley, and some of the lads who help out here. However, I don't know when."
"And where is Walter now?" Castle asked, as ingratiatingly as he could.
Father O'Brien sighed.
"He's in the dormitory for men. He's the only one there now. I'll go find Father O'Malley. He can help, I suppose."
The priest went one way and Castle and Beckett went the other. They did find one man sound asleep in the men's dormitory.
"Walter Wellington? Wake up we need to talk." Kate said.
Wellington made no response.
"Wellington? Wake up." Kate shook him as she spoke.
Wellington rolled out of bed and swung a baseball bat at Kate. Fortunately, he missed by several yards.
Kate showed him her badge.
"I'm a police officer. Put down that bat. We just want to talk to you."
Wellington swung at her while backing up. He missed again, badly.
He backed up and Kate very carefully went after him.
"Get away from me you Minion of the Devil, or I'll send you back to Hell!" He screamed, waving the bat around wildly.
"I'm a police officer!" Kate yelled.
Suddenly Wellington stopped.
"Now I have you, Demon! You've stepped into a pentangle. You are powerless."
Kate looked down. She was standing in a chalked five-pointed star.
"That's ridiculous, and I'm a police officer, not some devil."
Castle yelled to her.
"Kate, back out of the pentangle."
She was about to argue, but stepped backwards out of the chalked outline.
"Look, Walter," Castle yelled. "She stepped out of the pentangle. No Myrmidon of Satan could do that. Look closely at her. Can't you see her halo?"
Walter stared at Kate. There was a light behind her head which lit up her hair sort of like a halo, which if you were very hung over and somewhat prone to being suggestable, looked like a halo.
He put his bat down, but still held it, staring at Kate.
Rick kept talking.
"Look at her long white robes!"
Her light colored coat did look a bit like white robes to Walter.
"And her wings. She's an angel, Walter. She's the Archangel Katherine, come to speak to you."
Walter threw down the bat and collapsed into sobs.
"Forgive me, forgive me." He said over and over.
"What is going on here?" Said a distinctly Irish voice.
"Father O'Malley, I presume?" Kate said, holding out her badge. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. Can you tell us where Mr. Wellington was on Tuesday? Early Tuesday morning?"
"Why he was right here. He was thrown out of that awful Swenson man's place at about 11:00 in the evening on Monday and was carried here by some of the lads. As I recall, he slept through breakfast, which is very unusual for Mr. Wellington. He didn't get up until lunch time."
"There's no way he could have gotten out without anyone noticing him?"
"No, Detective. To begin with, he was quite legless when he was brought in. Secondly, either I or Sister Angela were on duty at the desk all night long. The only way out of the dormitory is past the desk."
Sister Angela confirmed what the priest had said and the three left.
"So he has an alibi?" Gates said, as if an alibi was some inconvenience thought up to upset her.
"An alibi from a Catholic priest and a nun, sir. And I checked. There are no doors, windows or anything else that Wellington could have used to sneak out. He'd have had to tunnel through a brick wall." Actually, Castle had checked but she wasn't going to tell Gates that.
When they got back to her desk, there was a note from Esposito.
"A Special Agent McAllen, FBI, called. He wants to talk to us about Hobbes' ex-partner, Bill Cummings. He says we can come over any time during business hours."
Castle grumped.
"Is there some physical law of the Universe that says we have to go to the Feds rather than have them come here?"
Kate smiled.
"Welcome to the real world."
Special Agent George McAllen looked like an FBI agent. He was tall and muscular with a bright smile and close-cropped hair. His shoes were highly polished black oxfords, his blue suit, white shirt and conservative striped tie all fit the picture. Castle wondered if there was a secret cloning laboratory in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington, D.C. that churned out agents to order.
"I understand you have something for us about Jack Hobbes former partner, Bill Cummings?" Kate said, trying to be as polite as possible.
McAllen looked embarrassed.
"Not me, actually. The Bureau does have something that should assist you."
"Georgie, will you cut the bullshit and bring them in here? Then you can go back to doing whatever the hell it is you do around here." The voice came from an office behind them and was feminine.
McAllen led them to the office and opened the door.
"Miss Gruber, Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle are here to see you about..."
"I'm not deaf or stupid. I know why I asked them to drop by and I heard them introduce themselves. Now, go."
TBC