A/N: 10/06/2010, slight editing of this chapter.

Chapter 9:

It was mid-afternoon when Mal and Beckett found themselves in a tastefully decorated condo, sitting on an imitation Mies sofa. Across from them, sat a thin man of average height. He had dark hair, matching the color of the sofa, except for a few wisps of gray forming around his sideburns. Of course, Mal could not have written of a more stereotypical figure and living environment, and wondered if the man was as two-dimensional as he seemed at first glance.

"Did you know the reverend well at all, Mr. Saxon?" Kate asked the man.

"Please, call me Fred," the man said with a half-smile that quickly fell into a frown. Fred immediately turned his eyes away from the two investigators with a distant expression on his face. "But I did know the reverend, yes. When my poor wife Gwen fell ill, he visited her frequently; he gave us comfort and hope. Unfortunately, our prayers weren't answered, and she passed away only a few short months ago."

"Our deepest sympathies," said Mal.

"Thank you," he said, nodding slowly in response.

"How regularly do you attend church?"

"Not as often as I used to, I must confess," said Fred. "It's hard to be there, to hear him speak the same words he spoke to Gwen and me. But I suppose I've thrown myself into my work more to compensate. The reverend tried to bring me back into the fold, but he didn't succeed."

"What do you do for a living?" asked Kate.

"I manage a store. We sell a variety of goods, like clothing, home décor, kitchen appliances and utensils, toiletries, and things like that. It keeps me pretty busy."

"I think that's all the questions we have for the time being," Kate said, rising from the sofa. Mal copied her actions. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Saxon."

Once they were out on the street, Mal remarked, "Why would anyone want to kill Reverend Douglas? Everyone we've seen today remarked on how great of a guy he was. He visited everyone when they were sick, and comforted them when they were depressed."

"If we knew why he was murdered, Castle, then it would make our investigation go a whole lot quicker," said Kate. "This isn't like one of your novels where a huge clue just appears at our feet."

"Hey," Mal said, defensively. "That only happened to Derrick Storm once, and it turned out to be bogus."

"Whatever, Castle..." Kate replied, rolling her eyes.

Their next stop was an apartment above a Chinese restaurant. They walked up the stairs, trying not to touch the dingy, peeling wallpaper as they ascended. They reached the door and Kate knocked four times, but to no answer. "Mr. Cartwright?" she called out. There was no response. She called out again. Again, she was greeted with silence. She jiggled the handle, but it was locked. She finally slammed into the door, easily breaking the lock. Kate cautiously pointed her gun forward before taking a step into the apartment. Again, she called out Mr. Cartwright's name, but it was clear that no one was home. In fact, it looked like whoever had last been there had left in quite a hurry. The place was in shambles. Kate finally lowered her gun. Mal whistled from behind her, and then said, "This place could sure use a maid... or a demolition crew." He kicked away an old shirt that was lying carelessly on the floor. Wandering around, he noticed a tear-away calendar on a side table.

"Look at this," he said to Kate.

"What about it?" asked Kate, coming to stand beside him.

"Check out the date," said Mal.

Kate studied the calendar for a moment. "The date of the murder!"

"He must have high-tailed it out of here after he murdered the reverend," said Mal. "So he wouldn't have been here to update his calendar."

But Kate was already making the call. "Call out an APB on a James Cartwright, wanted for murder..."

As Kate did her thing, Mal looked around the small, messy apartment and sighed. They finally had the suspect... they just didn't know why he did it or where to find him. Well, one step at a time, he supposed. After all, it wouldn't make for a good story to solve the crime so quickly.

Meanwhile, Inara unfolded the piece of paper she had gripped in her hand. She silently read out the address, and then folded up the paper again. She looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the city. It was not unlike any of the other cities she had frequented on the core planets, but there was definitely a genteel attitude that she was used to missing from the busy, garbage-filled streets of New York. Though she was a bit frightened to be out of her comfort zone, she bore herself up with the grace and dignity she always tried to possess under even the most miserable of circumstances.