Shared Obsession Chapter 43

Beckett stares across the table at Michelle. "I have no problem with differences in religious practices. But I do have a problem with murder. Was the killing part of the ceremony?"

"No way! Vondoo is a peaceful, deeply spiritual religion practiced by millions of people across the world every day."

Kate taps the screen of her phone. "I doubt whoever did this is very peaceful."

"No, they aren't," Michelle agrees. "Your killer may be Vondoo, but that's not why the man is dead. He was killed because he has something the killer desperately wants. And he's not going to stop until he finds it."

Kate's phone vibrates in her hand as the ringtone sounds. "Excuse me. Beckett."

"Yeah, it's Ryan," the voice on the other end responds. "We've got another one."

Ryan consults his notebook. "Victim is Darcy Cho. She's a second-year lawyer at a firm downtown."

"Multiple stab wounds, just like the last one," Esposito chimes in. "A neighbor saw the door had been pried open and called the cops. The unis called us. They didn't touch anything, just secured the scene."

Kate gazes around. "Good for the unis."

"The staging is exactly the same," Castle observes.

"Defensive wounds on her arms," Kate notes. "She put up a fight."

Castle points to ridges across Darcy's palms. "Those are different than the last victim. It looks like she was trying to hold onto something." As his eyes sweep the room, he points at a large leather purse that's been slashed open. "Maybe she was holding on to that, and the killer thought what he was looking for was inside. But we know he didn't find it."

"How?" Kate asks.

"She still has the charm in her mouth."

Kate takes a picture of the bag before examining it. "It looks like a designer satchel."

"Meredith and Gina both bought those at the beginning of a season," Castle recalls. "They cost a small fortune. No wonder a lawyer just coming up wouldn't want to let hers go. But what would the first guy have to do with one? He wasn't the fashion plate type."

"I don't know, Castle," Kate admits. "But the killings must fit together somehow. Let's find out whatever we can about Darcy and put everything up on the board. Maybe something will jump out."

Jill Button, the archetype of a young but up-and-coming lawyer fidgets in a seat in the lounge at the 12th. "It doesn't make sense. Why would someone kill Darcy? As associates, we mostly did research: property law, immigration law, that kind of thing. We rarely made it near a court. Neither side of a case would even know who we were."

"Ms. Button, your office manager said you and Darcy were close. Is that true?" Ryan inquires.

Jill nods. "We joined the firm at the same time. Neither of us knew anyone in the city, so we became best friends."

Ryan holds up a picture of the first victim. "Do you know this man? We think he and Darcy might be connected."

"No, I don't. What happened to him?"

"That's what we're trying to find out."

The air in Jill's tightening throat makes a choking sound. "Oh my God! Is this what someone did to Darcy? Who would do something like this?"

Ryan sighs. "We were hoping you'd be able to tell us."

"Yo! We got a hit on the first victim's prints," Esposito calls across the bullpen as Kate is clipping a photo of Darcy's purse to the murderboard. " Immigration database. Name's Jamal Buoncy. He's a Nigerian national. Entered the U.S. eighteen months ago on a student visa as an exchange student for a year at NYU. But after that, his visa expired."

"Looks like he decided to stay. Fatal decision," Castle comments.

"Exchange students often stay with American families. Do you know if anyone took Jamal in?" Kate asks.

"Uh-huh, for as long as he was a student. The last time the family saw Jamal, he was in a cab, supposedly on his way to the airport. But Jamal became friends with their teenage son, and they kept in touch by phone. Jamal's number was billed to an address on East Third."

"That's a few blocks from where the body was found," Castle notes.

"And Darcy Cho's law firm is near there too," Ryan adds. "And her friend said Darcy did some work on immigration law."

Kate snaps her fingers. "That's a connection."

"Esposito, Ryan, find out if Jamal Buoncy was on the client list or relates to a case at Darcy's firm. Go down there."

Esposito snorts. "They'll probably pull crap about attorney-client privilege."

The corners of Kate's mouth tweak. "If they do, we'll at least know he was a client. And if they say he wasn't, we'll know that too. Come on, Castle, let's go check out Buoncy's place."

"Beckett…."

"If anything comes through from the lab on the other case, I'll let you know right away. And I can really use a second pair of eyes on this."

"All right," Castle agrees. "Let's go."

About halfway up to Buoncy's apartment, Castle starts wishing he'd spent a little more time on cardio. "I wasn't expecting a doorman building, but a sixth-floor walk-up?"

"You should have seen my first apartment. Three flights up on an airshaft over a restaurant. The whole place smelled like chicken wings. To this day, I hate even looking at them," Kate confides.

"I'll remember that next time I order appetizers. But honestly, Beckett, it's not fair. Lady Liberty is supposed to lift her lamp beside the golden door. People come here looking for a new start and what do they get? Slum housing."

"Still, for some, it's better than what they left," Kate offers. "I wonder if Jamal lived alone."

Scuttling noises come from behind a locked metal door. "Doesn't sound like it. I hope those are people, not rats."

The door groans as Kate pounds on it. A man opens it a crack. "Yes?'

"Detective Beckett, NYPD." She kicks the door as the man tries to slam it. "No! Hands, show me your hands."

"Immigration!" another man calls from inside.

"I'm not immigration," Kate announces. "Everyone relax. I just need to ask you some questions."

"If you're not from immigration, who are you?" the second man asks.

"I'm a homicide detective, looking for information on Jamal Buoncy."

"We don't know any Jamal," the questioner claims.

Castle points to a square of fabric poking out from under one of multiple narrow beds. "Beckett, red flannel."

"Who's bed is that?" Beckett demands.

Sweat adds a sheen to Azi's dark skin as he sits on the edge of his metal chair in the box. Kate points to a partial bolt of cloth on the table between them. This red flannel links you to two murders. That puts you in a lot of trouble."

"I've done nothing wrong," Azi insists.

"You lied to me about knowing Jamal. That's a crime in itself. But you're not here about that. You're here because I need to find out who killed Jamal and this woman." Kate holds a photo of Darcy in front of Azi. "The same red flannel you had under your bed, and the same red candles we found with it were at both murder scenes. If you didn't kill those people, what was your stuff doing there?"

"I don't know this woman. I haven't killed anyone," Azi insists. "It wasn't mine. It was for someone else."

"Who?" Kate demands. "Do you want to go back to Nigeria? I can arrange that with a single phone call."

Azi presses his hands to his face. "So can he."

"Who? Jamal was your friend, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"Then don't you want us to catch who killed him? Don't you want justice?"

Azi pushes up straighter in his chair. "His name is Oni, Charles Oni."

"Charles Oni," Beckett repeats.

"Immigrants know this man," Azi continues. "He owns the places where we live. He owns the places where we work."

"What about Jamal? Did he work for this Oni?" Castle questions.

"At his store on Canal Street. But it was only temporary. Jamal was going to save up money to apply for another visa, to become legal."

"And Oni had a problem with that? " Castle queries.

"Not with that. But yesterday, he came looking for Jamal. He said Jamal took something that belonged to him. He needed to get it back. I knew Jamal was not a thief, but Oni insisted. He knew my father was the priest of our village. So he made me show him how to invoke the spirits."

"What did Jamal take?" Kate asks.

"Oni didn't say."

"Why didn't you ask?" Kate presses.

"Because I was scared. Because he would have killed me. The only reason I am telling you this now is because Jamal was my friend. He didn't deserve to die like that. Oni was wrong."

Kate, Castle, Ryan, and Esposito huddle around the murder board. Kate drops her marker on the ledge. "City records show no vendor's license for a Charles Oni, and the apartment Jamal lived in is owned by a Robert Burnett. Probably an alias. The only information we have on him is a PO box in New Jersey. Espo, you said Darcy's firm is a dead end."

"Right," Esposito confirms, "they never heard of Jamal Buoncy."

"Which is perfect," Castle adds grimly, "because no one associated with this case has heard of Darcy Cho. We still have no idea what the victim's had in common."

A penetrating voice vibrates through the air of the bullpen. "No, I'm not going to wait downstairs. Do you know who pays your salary? Me and my taxes."

Castle palms his face. "No, she lives in LA. It's me and my taxes. Beckett, you might as well tell them to let Meredith through. No one is going to convince her to go away."