Slaying the Beast

Chapter 3

"Who's the vic?" Montgomery asks.

Kate shrugs. "Unknown. You know the drill sir, no ID. Lanie's going to run the prints in the lab. With the state the body was in, she thinks she can do a better job there, but it may take a while to come up with anything."

"Which is exactly why we need a thorough canvass as soon as possible," Castle sticks in. "Roy, you know the longer we wait, the colder the trail will be."

"Castle, of course, I know that. I have been a cop for a couple of decades now. Fine. Detective, pull whoever you need. And Castle, what the hell are you doing here, anyway? You look like you've been the one lying in an alley. Beckett, take this idiot home and then get your ass back to the crime scene."

"Yes, sir."

Castle cautiously peeks through the door of the loft. There's no sign of life. "Whew! Mother must be at the theater. I knew she was going crazy letting her understudy play her role. It always makes her paranoid. And Alexis has practice for the academic decathlon."

Kate puts her hand on his arm. "That's good Castle. You can get some rest uninterrupted. Are you going to behave yourself or do I have to tuck you in?"

"You could join me to make sure I don't go anywhere."

Kate snorts, rolling her eyes. "In your dreams! Anyway, you heard Montgomery. I've got work to do."

"Fine! But you'll call me if you come up with anything?"

"Sure Castle. Now go unroll your mat and take your nap and if you're really good, I'll give you a sticker."

"Ooh, do you have the ones that smell like strawberry?"

Kate shakes her head. "That's it. I'm getting out of here. See you tomorrow, Castle."

Castle stares down at his bedspread. It's apparent that the housekeeper has been there; it's unwrinkled, and the pillows are perfectly aligned. He almost hates to ruin the picture by climbing in. Getting out of his clothes and into pajamas, even his favorite ones, seems like a lot of work. He settles for stripping down to his T-shirt and shorts and pulling back the sheet as little as possible. As he sleeps, he never hears the ding of a text from the phone that was still in the pocket of his slacks.

Alexis knocks softly on Castle's bedroom door. "Dad, I'm leaving for school now. Gram's at a sunrise yoga class. Do you need anything before I go?"

Castle props himself up on his elbow and rubs his eyes. "What time is it? What day is it?"

"Eight a.m. and Thursday. You were asleep when I came home last night. I didn't want to wake you. You must have needed it. You look a lot better this morning."

Castle yawns. "Yeah, I guess I did. I do feel better. I'll be fine. You go ahead, or you'll miss your train."

"OK. I made coffee. It's in the kitchen."

"Bless you, my child. Now get going!"

Castle wraps himself in a robe and is pushing his feet into slippers when he hears the buzz of his phone. He regards the screen as he retrieves his cell from the pants he threw on a chair. It's Beckett. "Castle, you must not have gotten my text last night. The lab has a match on the prints. The DB is George Mercer. He's a staffer for Susan Collinwood, the senator from Maine."

Castle sits on the edge of the bed. "A staffer for the senator from Maine. What would he be doing in New York? Wait, Collinwood? She's on the Intelligence Committee!"

"I thought you'd find that interesting. Are you coming to the precinct?"

"Soon as I get some coffee and put my pants on."

"Castle, that is way too much information."

"Right. Be there soon."

Castle finds Kate staring at the murder board. He studies the timeline she's constructed. "Looks like Lanie was on the button saying Mercer had been dead for three days. It's a wonder that no one missed him."

"Ryan checked with Senator Collinwood's office. According to them, Mercer said he was going to be spending a few days with his family. I called them in Maine, and they had no idea he was in New York. They thought he was in DC. So no one missed him."

"What was he doing in New York?"

"We have no idea, Castle. His sister, Callie Mercer, is flying in from Maine this afternoon. She may know something."

"Kate, do you think this has anything to do with Bracken? There are DC and New York connections."

"Castle, Mercer could be connected to Bracken - or he might have come to New York to see Jersey Boys or the Book of Mormon. Right now we just don't know."

"Anything turn up on the canvass?"

"Maybe. There were a few of the local residents who said they heard a bunch of cats howling in the alley where George Mercer was dumped, about an hour before his body was discovered."

"So will you be interviewing anyone who was in one of the stores that have doors opening on that alley to find out who would have been there at that time?"

"That's the plan, Castle. The boys will be taking some, and I'll be taking some. Care to join me?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

The flush heating Frankie Lesmore's cheeks is spreading across his nose. He toys with the fob of his keys, turning it over and over in his fingers. He keeps his eyes on his hands as he confesses to Kate. "The truth is, I was supposed to be there to take over from José. We switch over at about five o'clock in the morning. But I had a fight with my girlfriend the night before, and I downed too many." He looks imploringly at Castle. "You know how it is, right? Anyway, I slept in and didn't get there until almost seven. José was gone, but the strange thing is he signed me in at five. I thought he was just doing me a favor. But he hasn't come back and the place kind of stank. I think he sprayed some of that pine stuff we keep around for Christmas, but it just made things worse. I opened the doors and turned on the fans to air things out."

Kate sniffs. The taint of death still lingers. "Mr. Lesmore, we're going to have to have our crime scene investigators go over the store. Do you know how to contact the owner?"

"Just wait about five minutes. He comes in to check on me every day. He'll be here, but he won't like this. He won't like this at all."

"Mr. Lesmore, nobody likes a murder."

Frankie looks at the clock on the shop wall for the tenth time. "Mr. Simmons should be here. He's always here, way before now."

"Does Mr. Simmons live nearby?" Castle asks looking up from the bio of Susan Collinwood on his phone. "He might have gotten stuck in traffic."

"He lives somewhere in Washington Heights, I think. I've heard him mention it a couple of times on the phone when he was talking to his brother."

"And what's his brother's name?" Kate inquires.

"I don't think it's his real name, but he goes by Vulcan, Vulcan Simmons."

Castle can see Kate's eyes narrow as she pulls out her phone and punches in a text. The bleep of an answer comes almost immediately. She turns to Frankie. "I need you to lock this place up. I'll be sending some cops to secure it. Then you can leave, but I'll need all your contact information."

Frankie hurriedly grabs a pad and pen from the counter, scribbles what Kate requested and hands it to her.

"Beckett," Castle asks as they walk back to her unit. "What was all that about?"

"I was pretty sure I'd seen the name Vulcan Simmons in my mother's papers. I checked. Ryan used to work narcotics. He said that Simmons was a major drug dealer in Washington Heights around the time my mother was killed. She was running a campaign to clean up his sales territory. We're finding a bunch of pieces. I just don't know how they all fit together,"

Castle puts his good hand on her shoulder. "Kate, we'll figure it out. We always do."