Shattered Lies

Chapter 2

"He's feeding her, and she's giggling," Kate mutters to herself as she spots Maddy and Castle in the crowded restaurant.

Maddy looks up as Kate approaches. "Becks! I thought you had a thing tonight."

Kate glares at the bubbly blond. "Something came up. I have more questions for you."

Maddy waves at an empty seat. "Sure, take a load off."

The chair makes a grating noise as Kate shoves it tightly against the table. "No more high school reunion talk, Madison. I need to interview you at the precinct."

"Can't this wait, Beckett?" Castle protests. "We've only just started the tastings. Rocco hasn't even suggested the wine pairings yet."

Kate grits her teeth. "No Castle, it can't. I need some straight answers, now!"

"Becks, I remember that look," Maddy insists as she studies Kate's face across the table in interrogation. "This isn't about the case; it's about Rick. Just like when you were staring across the room in French class at Jensen Marley, even though you were going out with Frankie Fishbeck. You're into him. You just won't admit it, so you dragged me down here to break up my date with him. You know, you could have told me the truth. I would have backed off. But I can see it; you're biting your lip the way you did when you lied to me back then. You like Castle. You want to make little Castle babies."

Kate flushes. "Maddy, he can hear you!"

"He's watching us? Well good! If you don't have the guts to tell him, somebody should." Springing out of her chair, Maddy knocks on the mirror. "Are you listening, Rick?" The sound of knuckles rapping penetrates the glass. "You're busted, Becks. Deal with it."

Kate smacks her leather folder against the table. "Sit down, Maddy. The one who's busted is you. I checked the alibi you gave me. You went to a banquet for small business owners, and you were supposed to get an entrepreneurial award after dinner, but you weren't there to accept it. You left in plenty of time to get back to Q3 to kill Wolf and set up that little scene with the liquid nitrogen."

"That's ridiculous, Becks. Why would I want to do that? Losing a star chef like Wolf is a disaster for Q3."

"Exactly what you must have told the insurance company when you took out a policy on him. You pay back your investors, hire another chef, and reopen with a fat bottom line."

"Becks, that's not how it happened and not how it works. "I left the banquet because someone called me, claiming there was a fire at Q3. When I got there, everything was OK, and I thought it was just some jerk playing a stupid joke. I was out front the rest of the night schmoozing the customers and making sure the staff was on their toes. I never went back to the kitchen.

"And I can't just hire another chef of Wolf's status. I'll have to make one a partner like he was. That costs. And I'll have to run another PR campaign to assure the fine dining crowd in New York that Q3 is still the place to be. That's not easy or cheap either.

"Do you know that 95 percent of new restaurants fail in the first year? I would have been an idiot not to insure Wolf, and I'm going to have a hell of a time finding someone good enough to replace him."

"Then who had a motive to kill him?"

"I don't know, but Wolf liked to take chances. He did it with his food, coming up with new combinations, new sauces, or new flavor profiles. Usually, that paid off for him. For both of us, really. But he also liked to gamble. I know he blew part of his prize money in Atlantic City before we opened the doors of Q3. He wouldn't have had time to go very far after that, but he might have gotten himself in over his head with someone in New York."

"Are you saying he was killed because he was in debt to a bookie?"

"Just that he could have been, but I wouldn't have known about it. I only kept track of the books for Q3. It wasn't my business what Wolf spent his own money on as long as he performed in the kitchen."

"Maddy, you know I'm going to check out everything you told me."

"Check away. But while you're checking on my honesty Becks, you might think about your own."

Castle is already in his accustomed place beside her desk when Kate sinks into her chair. "You heard."

"I heard - everything. What I don't know is whether Maddy was right or just reliving what she thought she saw in high school. So you tell me, Kate. Am I Jensen Marley and if I am, what the hell are you doing with Tom (Frankie Fishbeck) Demming?"

"Honestly, Castle, I'm not sure. After I had to shoot Coonan, when I told you I'd gotten used to you dipping my pigtails into the inkwell, and wanted you to stay, I meant it. But you are always poking at me. You make me look at things I don't want to see - even with Perlmutter. That's going to open a can of worms big enough to catch all the fish off of Staten Island. Maybe more. But Tom is easy. He's safe. He's comfortable."

"And that's what you want? Safe? Comfortable?"

"I don't know. I need to figure it out."

"Yeah, well when you do, let me know. But while you're cogitating, what are you doing about Perlmutter?"

"I had Lanie call Dr. Murray. He's consulting upstate, but he'll be back the day after tomorrow. Perlmutter should have put out at least his preliminary report by then. Murray can go over it - and Wolf's body - and tell us what he finds that contradicts Perlmutter's findings. We'll have to see where things go from there.

"In the meantime, I need to check out Maddie's story and get Wolf's financials. If he was a gambler, there should be flashing red lights on his bank and credit card accounts."

"And if Maddie's story doesn't check out?"

"I'll still have to investigate Perlmutter. Even if Maddy did kill Wolf, he's still lying. I need to find out why." She points at Castle's shirt. "You've got a spot of something there."

He fingers the stain. "Pumpkin risotto, which I never got to finish eating, along with the rest of the meal. You know, you look a little hungry, too."

Kate lays a hand on her flat abdomen. "I haven't had time for anything except the cup of yogurt I grabbed for lunch."

"Ugh! Not that 80 calorie slim stuff you can finish in about three spoonfuls."

Kate shrugs. "It's handy."

"But not exactly the hearty fare necessary to energize New York's premier detective. So, what do you say to Remy's? You don't have to call it a date, just mutual partaking of essential nutrients."

"Burgers and fries are essential nutrients?"

"If we add pie, we get all the basic junk food groups, salt, sugar, grease, and starch."

"I'd rather have a shake."

"That would do it too." Pushing out of his chair, he offers her his arm. "So what do you say, Beckett?"

She reaches for her purse. "Fine, but we're going Dutch."

Castle sighs as they make their way to the elevator.