Poison Pen
Chapter 26
"Everything finally came down on Dominic," Claire Farrell realizes.
"Were you expecting something to happen to your son, Ms. Farrell?" Kate asks.
"I've been expecting something to happen to that boy practically from the moment he was born," Claire responds, her voice trembling. "He was always in trouble. If the neighborhood kids hatched a scam, he was the first one in line to carry it out. He got kicked out of regular high school and barely finished up in an 'alternative program.' He's been kicking around from job to job, always looking for the big score. When he bought a new car and moved to an East Village apartment, I knew he was into something illegal. Valets at fancy restaurants can make good tips, but not enough to afford what he was buying."
"Do you have any idea who Dominic might have been working with to get that kind of money, Ms. Farrell?" Kate queries.
"He didn't say much to me except about the rich —pardon me Detective Beckett, assholes — whose cars he handled." Castle smothers a cough as Claire continues. "Dom believed they were too lazy to spend five minutes looking for a parking place, but that they'd end up paying for a lot more than valet service. But I have no idea what he meant."
"What you've told me may still be helpful." Kate fishes in the pocket of her light jacket for a card and extends it to Claire. "Again, I'm sorry for your loss, Ms. Farrell. If you think of anything else, give me a call. Day or night."
"Sounds like Dominic Farrell suffered the unfortunate result of a falling out among thieves," Castle concludes as he and Kate return to her unit. "What do you think a valet was doing to make the kind of money that his mother described?"
"I don't know, Castle, but finding out may lead us to his killer. We need to go back to Your Own Table. Most of the employees should be on shift by now."
Ask the manager for a private space where we can question them," Castle suggests. "Believe me, every minute in a place like Your Own Corner costs a fortune in overhead. They can't afford downtime. The manager will be happy to go along with anything that minimizes interruptions in their business. And if all else fails, I'll promise to feature some version of the restaurant in my next book."
Kate's teeth find her lower lip. "Castle, as much as possible, I'd rather keep our date last night to ourselves."
Deepening furrows flank the bridge of Castle's nose. "You don't want people to know we're together, Kate?"
"I don't think it's any secret, Castle, not with your Ferrari at the murder scene. But I want to keep what I can of last night, special."
"It was definitely that," Castle agrees. "It's all right, Kate. I didn't write the love scene between Nikki and Rook as beginning at a restaurant. Their heat rises in a very different way. But I don't think Nikki could ever be as hot as the muse that helped me create her. You are one of a kind."
"No more than you, Castle. Let's go talk to the manager and see if your writer's brain can come up with a scenario from what the employees at Your Own Corner tell us."
Bruce Sonnenfeld squirms nervously in his seat. "I barely knew Dominic. All I did was text him when the diners at my stations were ready to leave. All the servers do that. It's part of this place's mystique to have our patrons' cars sitting out front with the engine running and the doors open as they leave the front of the house. Or we'll have a cab ready. Either way, Dominic or another valet would take care of it. They'd text to the doorman at the hotel a block down to send over one of the cabs that line up there."
"So the valets always know who's coming and going and so do the servers," Castle clarifies.
"And the maître D," Bruce adds. "He keeps track of all the customers, so he knows when a table will be clear."
"Any reason why any of the staff here would want Dominic dead?" Kate asks.
"No, of course not," Bruce swears. "We're all busy doing our own jobs. We don't have time to get to know the valets. There's no reason any of us would have anything against Dominic. Can I get back to my station now? Most of my income comes from tips, and if I don't serve, I don't get any."
"You can go," Kate allows, "but will you be here if we need to talk to you again?"
"Or at home, sleeping. The restaurant has my address and cell number. I can't afford a landline."
"What do you think, Castle?" Kate asks after Bruce leaves their improvised interrogation room.
"He said pretty much the same thing as Jian-Wa and all the other servers," Castle recounts, "but none of them was as jumpy as he was. And he was careful to make himself sound strapped. Landlines aren't that expensive. He was also covering himself by throwing suspicion on the rest of the staff. I think he's into something. Consider this, Kate. While Your Own Corner's customers retreat behind the curtains, the servers and the valets know where they are and approximately how long they'll be there. Add to that; the valets get a heads up about when patrons are leaving. I remember some old TV plots in which valets made copies of house keys, and people were ripped off while they were eating. But now, with fobs, most people don't keep their house keys on the same ring as their car keys anymore. There's more information that a valet could get in a car, though. Usually, the registration, with an address, is in the glove box. A lot of people keep receipts in the car too. There might be credit card numbers or records of purchases of merchandise worth stealing. And for regular customers, a valet could figure out a schedule of when they'd be away from home."
"Castle, do you think the valets are ripping people off? How could they stay on duty and burgle customers' homes at the same time?"
"They couldn't, Kate, but they could sell their data to an operation that could perform surgical strikes, so to speak."
"If Dominic was feeding them information, why would they kill him?" Kate questions.
"Maybe he got greedy and tried to jack up the price," Castle speculates. "Or he found something that made him want to go out on his own. His murder could easily have been a warning to toe the line, to anyone else in on the operation."
"Like Bruce Sonnenfeld."
"Exactly like Bruce Sonnenfeld. I don't think he's as worried about his tips as he is about being terminated — with extreme prejudice."
"Almost everyone in a restaurant like Your Own Corner pays with a credit card. There will be records of charges and tips. Dominic's wages will be listed on the payroll. If you're right, Castle, his financials should show income not accounted for by his job. Sonnenfeld's may too. I'll put in a request for the readouts. We should have it in the morning."
"And what about tonight?" Castle wonders.
Kate shoves the toe of her high heeled boot beneath the hem of his slacks and slides it up his leg. "You said Alexis' study group is meeting at a friend's house tonight, right? How late will she be out?"
Castle grins. "Late enough for some evening delight."