Poison Pen

Chapter 47

"You're in luck!" Merriweather Seward proclaims in response to Kate's query. "The Society does maintain listings of our members' areas of expertise. But in the case of Ancient Mayan culture, you're likely to find most or all of them in one place now and for the next few days. There's a conference on the subject going on at the Marriott, the one on Central Park West. Advanced civilizations existing before Europeans invaded this hemisphere are an area of interest for me. I was considering visiting the exhibition floor, myself." Merri reaches into the top drawer of her desk and pulls out a brochure. "This is an outline of the presentations." Grabbing a highlighter, she overlines several entries and hands the document to Kate. "Those are the specialists in linguistics."

Kate scans the names. "Thank you. Ms. Seward. You've been very helpful."

Pink suffuses Merriweather's cheeks. "I admit, I found Will Medina's work fascinating. He will be missed. Please let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"I will," Kate responds, "and thank you again for your help."

"Just as a guess," Castle ventures as he and Kate leave the Archeological Society offices, "I'd say that Ms. Seward was taken with more than Will Medina's work. He really is a Jonesian figure. Why are rogue treasure hunters such chick magnets?"

"Maybe because we think they know how to delve into titillating secrets. But I found Indy disappointing. When the opportunity arose for Marian to explore some of his mysteries, he fell asleep."

"He was beaten up and exhausted," Castle protests.

"I suppose," Kate allows, grabbing a handful of Castle's well rounded posterior, "but I prefer a man who I excite enough to keep awake."

Castle quirks an eyebrow. "Then may I assure my bride-to-be that regardless of circumstances, I will be up for whatever she desires."

"What's going on there?" Castle wonders, surveying a demonstration in front of the conference-hosting hotel. "The signs in English say, 'Graverobbers and thieves,' but the guy with the long hair and furious expression who's leading the line has one in pictographs." Kate starts toward the man in question. "Let me talk to him, Kate," Castle urges. "Someone that angry will get defensive to a cop. I can approach him as a writer and ask for his story."

"OK, Castle," Kate agrees, "but let's set up our phones so I can listen to what he tells you. If he sounds like he has anything to do with Will Medina's death, I'm stepping in."

"Roger that."

Arranging his face in his most curious smile, Castle ambles up to the wild-eyed leader. "Excuse me. I'm a novelist, Richard Castle, and I'm working on a plot that may turn on stolen artifacts. I always try to be as authentic as I can. Can you tell me why you're here?"

"Why I'm here? I'm a Mayan, that's why I'm here," the sign-carrier retorts. "My name is Cacaw Te, and I'm protesting the pillaging of our land. These so-called archaeologists are no more than thieves. They desecrate our holy places and steal our heritage. I, all of us here, are calling for the return of what is rightfully ours."

"What kinds of things do you want back?" Castle queries.

"Everything that was taken from us, but it should start with the human remains that despoiler Medina made the cover of Time magazine for removing from their resting place."

"Remains?" Castle repeats. "You mean human bones?"

"I mean mummies, perfectly preserved by our ancient knowledge. Vengeful wrath will fall on anyone complicit in that violation of sacred ground."

"What kind of vengeance?" Castle presses.

"An ancient curse, loosing a multitude of misfortunes and miseries unto death and beyond," Cacaw Te replies. "The gods will enlist any creature in their cause. They have a thirst for blood that must be slaked."

"Oh, they did some slaking all right. Are you aware that Will Medina is dead?" Castle inquires.

"I got an alert on my Twitter feed," Cacaw Te replies. "His ending was inevitable. But until what was stolen is returned, disasters will not cease."

"If you're expecting disaster, you should inform the police," Castle suggests.

"Police have no defense against the gods," Cacaw Te claims.

Kate strides up to join Castle and the doomsayer. "We can try. Kate Beckett, Detective, N.Y.P.D. I need to talk to you about Will Medina."

"You can talk all you like, Detective," Cacaw Te responds, "but the answers will come from the gods, not from me."

"We'll see what the gods say when I take you to the precinct for interrogation," Kate declares.

"Bad news, Beckett," Ryan announces. "Cacaw Te's fingerprints match the ones on the warning card that the museum turned over, but his alibi is solid. We checked with the radio station, where he was giving an interview to gin up his followers. The broadcast was live during the time Will Medina was murdered. Cacaw Te couldn't have done it."

Kate slams her palm on her desk. "Then we're back to square one."

"Maybe not," Castle suggests. "It's apparent that Rachel lied to us and pretty much sent us on a wild goose chase. I'm willing to bet she knew we'd encounter that demonstration where those archaeologists would be, and she tried to distract us with all that curse nonsense. There's something she doesn't want us to find out, besides that she was cuddling up with Will Medina. Maybe he had a side racket, and she was in on it."

Kate pops out of her chair. "If there was a side racket, it will probably show up in their financials."

"Ah, you've already gone with one of the primary rules of crime-solving," Castle remarks, "Cherchez la femme. Now we adhere to number two, follow the money."

"We can follow it in the morning," Kate announces, smothering a yawn. "I'll put the paperwork in now, but we probably won't get the records until then."

Castle offers his arm before he and Kate step on the elevator to leave the bullpen. "How would you like to spend the evening? You sound tired. You want to curl up after dinner, maybe turn in early?"

"Yes to the curling up part, but we'll need to do it with a stack of bridal magazines that Martha gave me. I promised her I'd go through them to look at ideas for venues."

"And you want me to share your pain."

"Maybe a little, Babe, but if a location does pop out at me, we'd have to agree on it anyway. I've been in weddings with bridezillas who insist on my way or the highway. The grooms were hungover from retreating with their buddies and bottles, and the tension between the families put a damper on everything. I want to find someplace that we'll both love."

"If you're there, I don't know how I could help loving it, but doing a periodical search could be amusing. We can heckle the grossly unacceptable together. If you throw popcorn at a bad movie, what do you do to photos of bad wedding venues? Maybe big Xs in red magic marker?" Rick proposes. "We could take turns applying the ink."

"That does sound like fun," Kate agrees. "So X will mark anything but the perfect spot. Wow! I think you're starting to rub off on me."

"I'd rather rub against you. You never said you wanted to turn in early."

Kate flutters her eyelashes. "No, I never did."