Poison Pen

Chapter 48

"Wow!" Castle exclaims, skimming the printout of Rachel Walters' financials. "The museum sends me copies of its budget to encourage my largesse. If its people made this kind of money, it would have to sign on Gates or Bloomberg as patrons. Rachel has to have another source of income, a very generous one."

Kate studies the figures in front of her. "Same thing with Medina. Could he be getting the extra revenue from book sales?"

Castle looks over her shoulder. "No way. Even if he was writing bestsellers, the pattern of deposits is all wrong. Publishers are quite systematic. The payments Medina received are pretty haphazard."

"They are," Kate agrees, "but one thing about them is consistent. Every amount is just under $10,000. The bank wouldn't have to report them to the IRS."

Castle scans the listings for Rachel. "Same here. All of this virtually shouts illegality. But what was their scam, and how did it get Will Medina killed?"

"They must have been selling something," Kate muses, "but what?"

Castle absently shoves a lock of hair off his forehead. "Kate, remember when I told you about the basement of the museum? There are supposed to be things consigned to the depths that have never seen the light of day since the 1800s, and possibly never will again. Rachel works down there, and Will had full access. There's nothing in the budget for an inventory, which adds to the mystique of the place, so Will and Rachel could have sold the museum's artifacts to collectors with no one being the wiser."

"Castle, if that stuff is so valuable, why doesn't the museum put it on display?"

"Interests change. Fads, like a fascination with mummies, come and go. There's also a matter of space. It takes a lot less of it to store things than display them. But there is another possibility I didn't consider."

"What?" Kate asks.

"By using their association with the museum for credibility, Will and Rachel could have been selling phonies. They'd be familiar with the factors necessary to simulate age, and they could use museum facilities to produce what they wanted. That way, they wouldn't have to depend on what they could find stowed in forgotten corners. They could create artifacts to order."

"If collectors thought they were buying something illegally obtained, they wouldn't dare ask for outside authentication," Kate figures.

"Unless someone did," Castle proposes. "A foreign national, especially someone with diplomatic credentials, wouldn't care about getting caught in the act. They'd barely be a blip on law enforcement radar, and could probably ship anything they wanted back home."

Kate nods slowly. "Right, maybe royals from the Middle East or the representatives of some minor but rich potentate."

"Yes," Castle continues. "Unknown to Medina, a buyer finds a lab in New York that does carbon 14 dating or whatever else they need to make sure the merchandise is as ancient as claimed. But the sirens go off, and the warning lights flash. Will Medina has tried to rip off the wrong collector, one who wreaks revenge by gargoyle."

Kate leans her elbows on her desk, supporting her face with her closed fists. "Castle, visitors with diplomatic credentials come in and out of New York every day to go to the United Nations, make business deals, or just kick up their heels a little. If we follow your theory, we'll have to narrow down our pool of suspects. That will mean tracing the sources of the payments to Medina, and maybe Rachel too."

"Or we could ask Rachel. She'd be familiar with Will's customer list," Castle suggests.

Kate groans. "At which point she lawyers up and shuts down."

Mischief dances over Castle's features. "Not necessarily, if we set up a little cosplay. I suspect we might find Mother something more engaging to do than buy out the city's stock of bridal magazines."

"Darlings," Martha announces, "I've found you the most exquisite actors for the roles Richard wrote, and the costume house we used for my last play in the experimental theater has everything that they'll need to pull off your little show. With a little imagination, we should be able to use this place for rehearsal."

"How much imagination, Mother?" Castle asks.

"Richard, I thought you were immersed in the spirit of the performance," Martha rebukes. "We just push the furniture back, creating a space where the actors can feel their roles. And it will help them to play opposite a beautiful woman. Kate, will you be reading Rachel?"

"Except for summer camp when I was seven, I haven't acted in a play," Kate protests.

With a sweep of her arm, Martha dismisses Kate's objection. "In the case of your experience, the play was not the thing. As a detective, you act every day. Pulling confessions out of your suspects by making them believe what you want them to believe requires nothing if not skill in the craft. You'll do fine."

Even in the air conditioning of the museum, the keffiyeh clad men Kate dispatched to meet with Rachel at the museum are sweating under their flowing thobes. Kate, Martha, and Rick can hear and see what's going on through coms and tiny cameras concealed in the rope-like egals, but Kate's getting more nervous by the minute.

"Word passes quickly through the marketplace. We've heard of the passing of your partner," Martha's appointed lead, Haleem, begins. "Most unfortunate, and the reason even more so. We would assume that no such error will ever take place again. Any attempts to present anything less than completely genuine to anyone in our brotherhood will again be met with the swiftest of justice."

Rachel's throat tightens. "I assure you that no error was intended. Will checked the provenance of the article in question, but the paperwork was old and the fraud ancient. I assure you that I will eliminate any chance that such an unfortunate event will ever happen again. Please make that clear to Abdamalek. I'm surprised he didn't come himself."

"He was called to appear before the master," the actor improvises. "Such a serious breach requires direct handling."

"Of course," Rachel agrees. "Would there be any particular item in which the master has a present interest?"

"Tiwanaku medallions. It was rumored that in its early days, the museum obtained some from an adventurer who explored the Island of the Sun. The master believes them to be objects of power."

"Of course," Rachel agrees. "I'm familiar with the legends of the area. I will conduct a search. Shall I contact Abdamalek if I discover them?"

Beneath his thobe, Haleem's heart is banging against his chest. "He can accept no further contact until the master gives him leave." Haleem signals to another actor who hands Rachel the card he's been holding. "Call that number," Haleem instructs Rachel.

"Of course," Rachel acknowledges. "There will be no further errors."

"No, there won't," Haleem warns, signaling his companions to precede him out of the museum.

Martha claps enthusiastically as her troupe approaches benches at the edge of the park. "Bravo!"

"It couldn't have gone better," Castle adds.

"It was good," Kate confirms. "The ball's in Rachel's court now. If she calls the number you gave her, we have her."

This calls for a celebration." Castle declares. "Would you men like to join us at Abraham's? Best beef in the city, totally halal. I think the health department gave the place an A-plus."

Haleem grins. "You had me at beef."