Flu
Chapter 40
"We could stop by Hudson U on the way," Castle suggests. "The library there should be open early so the students can study before class. We can snap a few pictures of relevant yearbook pages and be on our way. While we're in transit to Pierson's place, I can use an app on my phone to zoom in on anything that needs a closer look."
"As long as finding the yearbook doesn't take too long," Kate allows.
"Actually, I know where the yearbooks are," Castle confides. "I used a couple of them for research on 'Death of a Prom Queen.' They were very helpful in developing characters who could be a little out there without being cartoonish."
"Those kids were based on real people?" Kate queries.
"With a Castle twist. You know the cops in the Heat books are drawn from real ones, most of them, anyway. And just about everyone knows that Heat and Rook are more or less avatars for you and me. But the omnipotent author's hand gets to filter out the plodding mundane stuff about solving cases, or else I'd have to sell the books as sleep aids. Anyway, our stop shouldn't take long."
"Finding anything?" Kate asks as Castle quickly flips through glossy pages.
"Not yet," Castle admits. "Ooh, wait! Here's a photo of Lisa with a few of her students in deep conversation. The image is described as an impromptu seminar, but it looks very intense." Rick uses his phone to snap a picture. "The caption lists the names of the students. It shouldn't be too hard to track them down." Rick skims through the rest of the pages. "I think that's it for this year. But we should check the next one. There might be a memorial or something."
Rick reaches for another bound volume. "Uh-huh, there's a remembrance of Lisa Wernick. I notice that they've avoided phrases like 'cut down in the prime of life.' Those would have been gross. There are a few quotes here from former students. I think a couple of them are from the same kids who were in that photo."
"That would suggest a close relationship. They'd stand the best chance of knowing who might have had it in for her – or be suspects themselves," Kate offers.
Rick presses a quick kiss to her hair, inhaling cherry whispers of her shampoo. "You have a nasty suspicious mind. It's one of the things I love about you. I'll have plenty of time to check out the names while you expertly transport us upstate. The online background check service I signed up for is going to have to give me my money's worth."
Kate flutters her lashes. "Can it tell you if someone is a murderer?"
"Only if it's already a matter of public record. For a while, I thought about subscribing to Operation Sherlock. It gives you a personal Dr. Watson, sort of like a detective Clippy, but smarter and less obnoxious. I sampled the free trial. It came up with a ton of links, none of which would have solved anything. So far, detection still requires the human touch. And I'm rather fond of the human touch, as long as it comes from a particular detective."
"You'd better not be talking about Ryan."
"Ew, no! Blech! He spits in his hand before making a bet. There are much more pleasant ways of exchanging bodily fluids. But I digress. Checking out Lisa's students – now."
James Pierson had lived in New York City all his life, and not in the best parts of it. That was one of the reasons that f*****g cop, Snelling, homed in on him. Sure, James was upset that Professor Wernick flunked him. A sudden dip in his grade point and being knocked off the team would almost ensure the loss of his scholarship. But that didn't mean he'd kill the bitch and not the way the murderer did it.
It was as if James was set up to take the fall. Over the years he spent in prison, and after, he tried to figure out who would do it. He had a few ideas, but nothing he could come close to proving. After all this time, he doubts that the cops would care, especially since the city did its best to settle as quietly as possible. When the beautiful detective and her consultant knock on his door, he's genuinely surprised. "Looking for Professor Wernick's real killer," he echoes after Kate introduces Rick and herself.
"Yes," Kate confirms, "we are."
"Madeline Wasserman requested that we become involved," Castle adds. "She wants justice for her sister."
Pierson snorts. "Justice, it would be about time. I could use some freaking justice too."
"I'm hoping you can help us then. Since we know you're not guilty, can you think of any possible suspects Detective Snelling originally ignored, who might be?" Kate inquires.
A breathy whistle slowly rises from Pierson's chest. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about them. You'd better come in. Explaining could take a while."
Pierson gestures for Kate and Rick to take seats at a Formica-topped kitchen table. "This place came up for sale not long after I was released from prison. From what I heard, the couple who owned it were married for 52 years and died within a month of each other. I needed a place where I could breathe, away from the city. The furniture and everything came with it, so I used the first part of my settlement as a down payment. The stuff is old, but everything works.
"I've been here for almost five years. That, plus my stretch in Sing-Sing, was long enough to figure a few things out. Professor Wernick taught contemporary lit, and a lot of the kids thought they could sail through it by studying books they'd want to read anyway. I thought so too. That's why I signed up. But the class wasn't like that. Wernie, that's what we called her, treated the kind of novels you'd buy to take to the beach like they were Shakespeare or something. We had to analyze every sentence to find some hidden meaning and write papers, long papers. I couldn't do it very well. A lot of the other students couldn't either. But the ones who could, Wernie treated like rock stars. They'd have discussion groups, and if an author was in town, go to readings to ask questions.
"I wasn't in one of those groups, but a girl I saw for a while, was. She told me that Wernie was weird, like a split personality or something. She could really like you and then totally hate a paper you wrote and drop you from an A to a C or worse. Anyone who survived her class had to work really hard and cross their fingers that they wouldn't write something that pissed Wernie off. You know the kind of kid who aces everything, and then if they get a B or something, it's like it's the end of the world?"
Rick nods vigorously. "I've known a few like that. The kids in one high school I attended called them mark grubbers because they were always begging for a few more points."
"Right, but these kids were in college and even more desperate. And God help them if they tried to get Wernie to change her mind. She'd just drop their grades even more. I knew better than to beg her for a break, but my coach tried. That's what got me flunked."
Kate grips the pen poised over her pad more tightly. "What was your coach's name?"
"Filbert Murchison, but he couldn't have killed her. Before Wernie was murdered, he was in an accident that tore up the tendons in his arm. No way he could have swung a sword or anything that would have cut her head off. If I were you, I'd look at the other athletes she screwed over. I know the names of some of them. I can make you a list if you want."
Kate turns to a blank page on her pad and passes it across the table. "We want."