A Fly in the Garden: Chapter 10
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Sunday, February 21, 2012 – 12:58 p.m. – At Richard Castle's Residence in Sausalito, California
Sam Carlos walks into the expansive entry way, taking in the eclectic tastes of its owner, as he offers his hand to his host.
"Richard Castle. I'm a fan."
"I'm honored," Castle replies, taking Sam Carlos' offered hand in his with a firm shake. Earlier this morning, Kate Beckett had warned Castle about the little nuances of dealing with Sam Carlos; be firm, take charge but be deferential at the same time.
After a few minutes of 'suggestions' from Kate, both of them had been reduced to laughter as she realized exactly who she was talking to. If there was anyone who didn't need lessons on dealing with the more nefarious side of the law, it was Richard Castle. Whether it was dealing with urban drug runners, Italian mafia or Irish mobsters – Castle had moved in and out of those circles back in New York far more easily than Beckett could have ever imagined. In fact, the only close shave – so to speak – that still gave either of them pause was an instance at a poker game with some Russian gangsters. And even that was more than worth it from Castle's point of view, as it gave him his first real glimpse of the purely sexual Beckett, complete with short dress and that European accent that she will occasionally slip into during their more playful nocturnal activities.
So yeah, Richard Castle knows how to handle this.
"Kate has told me . . . well, not a whole lot about you, but enough," Castle begins.
"Enough to what?" Carlos asks, glancing at Kate, who stands next to Castle, already rolling her eyes.
"Enough to keep me interested," Castle deadpans with a smile.
"I knew I'd like you," Carlos smiles in return, letting go of Castle's hand as he takes a step toward Beckett. Kate opens her arms and receives her old friend in a warm embrace.
"Twice in two days," Carlos tells her. "I certainly hope that this becomes more routine," he offers, glancing between Castle and Beckett.
"Hah," Castle laughs, giving Sam's shoulder a slight squeeze. "Nothing in this house is routine, believe me."
Carlos nods his head, smiling while glancing at the offending hand that is on his shoulder. Clearly he is a man not used to being 'handled' in such a manner. He immediately recognizes, however, that his host means no disrespect. He immediately recognizes that – in fact – his host is treating him as if he is an old family friend. No doubt for Kate Beckett's benefit. He makes a mental note, another positive tick-mark in the mental ledger he carries in his mind for one Richard Castle.
"I am sure that is true, Mr. Castle –"
"Rick. Or Castle. Either one. My father is named Mr. Castle . . . okay, that's not exactly true. Truth be told, I have no idea what the man's real name is," Castle corrects himself, somewhat flustered as he thinks back to a December meeting just a couple of months ago. The raw honesty being shown is a breath of fresh air for Sam Carlos, who realizes that the couple in front of him are simply treating him like . . . like anyone else they might meet. He cannot help but chuckle at the sudden nervousness Castle exposes simply by mentioning his father. Another mental note for the file.
"You've never met your father?" Carlos asks, and immediately sees the conflict on the face of his host. Clearly this is a sore subject. He thinks about his own mother and her death, and the death of Johanna Beckett.
"What is it about the three of us and our parents?" he wonders silently, taking in Castle's internal battle.
"Once," Castle finally replies, deciding that – based upon what Kate has told him – it is probably a very bad idea to lie to this man about anything, be it small or large. Fortunately, Carlos gives him a reprieve, changing the subject.
"I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me this afternoon, Mr. Castle," Sam tells him. Sure, Castle has told him to call him 'Rick', or even use simply his last name. And yes, Sam is feeling far more comfortable in this setting than he ever imagined he might. But old habits die hard, and he prefers the more formal approach, picking and choosing when to use first names as it suits the situation.
"Is there a place we can . . . "
"Yes, yes," Castle replies immediately. "Forgive my manners, I'm sure none of us want to just stand here in the foyer for an hour. Let's take this to the den."
A few seconds later, Sam Carlos and Richard Castle walk into the brightly lit den, as the sunlight blasts through the large floor to ceiling window.
"Kate? C'mon," Castle beckons to Kate, who has lagged behind.
"I wasn't sure if –"
"Nonsense, Katie," Sam interrupts her, smiling a genuine smile. "It is clear that this is a pairing here, and I want this to be as amicable as possible."
Castle walks to the small bar and grabs three tumblers in one hand.
"Scotch all right?" he asks.
"Perfect," Carlos replies, now glancing at Kate. He watches Castle pour three glasses and smiles again.
"Moved on to the harder stuff, Katie?" Carlos comments. "You were a beer and wine girl, if memory serves. Other than the occasional margarita, that is."
"People change, Sam," Kate replies comfortably.
"Indeed. We do," Sam agrees, taking the tumbler from Castle, and joins them as three glasses click together in a toasting motion.
"So, what can I do for you, Mr. Carlos?" Castle begins, and Carlos pauses briefly once again, noting that Castle has opted for the more formal approach now, matching his own. Carlos takes a seat in the large chair next to the sofa as he begins.
"I had a very informative conversation this morning with . . . a person who is well acquainted with the world's oldest profession and how it works in the city," Carlos begins, bringing a broad grin to Castle's face.
"Oooh, I like him, Kate. Great vocabulary," Castle notes appreciatively.
"Stanford graduate, Castle," Kate replies, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
"Oh, that's right. That's right," Castle agrees, then looks back at Carlos. "Sorry, please continue – and please continue marinating your words in such sweet sauces."
"Really?" Carlos asks, an eyebrow raised.
"Too much?" Castle offers.
"Just a bit," Carlos replies, still smiling, playing nice.
"Anyway," Carlos continues, "as a result of this conversation, I have . . ."
Carlos pauses, taking in Castle for a moment, before making up his mind. Castle is an author. Perhaps it's best to simply tell him a story and let him fill in the blanks. That's why he's here, after all. To get a few blanks filled in.
"Let me tell you a story, Mr. Castle. I think you would appreciate a story far more than me dumping a file of facts into your lap. There is this person – let's just refer to him as Bob for now. Bob is kidnapping women. Scratch that – let me be as accurate as possible. Bob has certain accomplices who do his nefarious work for him. They are abducting women. They are taking these women down south, across the border to Bob, where he is showcasing them to his clients. At least that's the truth that Bob wants drifting through the streets, as rumors."
This last bit raises eyebrows from both Kate and Castle, as they exchange curious looks between them, as Carlos continues.
"The reality, however, is that Bob is keeping the women here. If he were to want to start a new business in Mexico, he need go no further than –"
"San Diego," Castle finishes for him, taking a sip of scotch, his eyes dancing and his mind now racing with possibilities, with plot twists. It's evident on his face, and Carlos smiles again – this is precisely what he wanted; an engaged and imaginative Richard Castle.
"Yes, Mr. Castle, that is the same conclusion I have come to as well," Carlos agrees. "Yet the streets are convinced that whatever is happening, it is happening down in Mexico. However, there is another man. Let's say his name is Eddie, hypothetically," Carlos says, and for just a moment Castle gets a glimpse of something different on Sam Carlos' face. He cannot place it, and so he files this away for a future conversation with Kate, wondering if she has seen it as well.
"Eddie runs the prostitution business in the city, and Eddie has noticed a change in the behavior of his clientele. Some key players are dropping off. Now, Mr. Castle . . . Kate . . . men – or women – who sample the professional women don't just 'drop off'. They don't stop. If they stop coming around, that just means that they have found new product to sample."
Castle nods his head excitedly, now making no bones about the notes he is taking with pen and paper. Sure, this is good information to have in his new role, but . . . well, once a writer, always a writer. This will come in handy some day in more ways than one.
"So – here is what we have, Mr. Castle," Sam continues. We have the beginnings of a good story. Women abducted. The authorities listen to their street sources which tell them these women have been taken south of the border. Your hero for the story, however – some great mystery solver, a detective – let's call him . . . no, no, given current company and . . . friends of current company, let's make this detective a woman," Carlos smiles, glancing at Kate.
"Let's call her Beckard," Carlos smiles.
"See, he knows how to do this," Castle muses aloud, still jotting notes, while Kate replies with a simple punch to his arm.
"Beckard, our champion, is not convinced. She sees the change in Eddie's market, and she realizes that the women are still here. Somewhere," Carlos continues. "But here is the challenge. Here is the hole in my plot, Mr. Castle."
"Couple of holes, actually," Castle leads in.
"True," Carlos acknowledges. Kate meanwhile, is taking in this surreal scene with a sense of . . . well, awe. Here is her soulmate, the love of her life – an author and philanthropist – having a casual conversation about abducted women with a long-lost friend of hers who happens to be one of the most dangerous, feared and untouchable criminals on the west coast. And their conversation is couched within a hypothetical story that she realizes is anything but hypothetical.
"First problem," Carlos continues, "is where are the women being held?"
"No," Castle corrects him, causing another strange glance from Sam Carlos. "The first problem is, who are the . . . customers who have fallen off? Who are Eddie's clients that are no longer spending as much time with his girls? If you are right – and I have no reason to doubt you are – then they have found someone newer, something more appetizing. If I am writing the story, then that's where Beckard starts. You can't just jump to the obvious question when writing. Makes for a very short – and very unrealistic – story."
Sam Carlos is smiling broadly now, glancing at Kate, who simply shrugs her shoulders with a smile herself.
"It's what he does," she chuckles, as Castle continues.
"The only hole in this thinking, however, is that I find it hard to believe that these customers – probably Eddie's highest paying customers – could curtail their business without Eddie noticing, or becoming concerned."
Now Sam is laughing, and for the first time, it isn't the mirthful laugh that Kate and Castle have seen earlier. No, this is something else.
"Let's just say that Eddie is not the brightest character in your story, Mr. Castle, and leave it at that."
"Okay, Eddie's not too bright," Castle agrees, jotting this down on his paper as well, scribbling out some other note. "Got it. So Eddie has his stable of women who –"
"Stable?" Kate almost bellows, indignantly.
"Please, Kate," both Castle and Carlos offer simultaneously. The men glance at each other in surprise while Kate stands up.
"Great, just great," she muses almost silently, while grabbing each man's glass. I'm getting us all refills. She saunters away, with Castle's eyes fixated on the swaying hips.
"Focus, Mr. Castle," Carlos chuckles, bringing Castle back to the moment.
"Always," Rick responds, just loud enough for Kate to hear. She offers him a sultry smile then turns to the drinks at hand.
"Perhaps 'stable' was the wrong choice of words," Castle acknowledges with a whisper to Carlos. Carlos unnerves him completely with his answer.
"No, Mr. Castle . . . Trust me when I say this, 'stable' is precisely the most accurate word you could have used."
The look on Castle's face is priceless until Sam Carlos reminds himself exactly what one Richard Castle is doing in the Bay Area. He has built his own namesake in order to help battered and abused women. You don't do something like this on a whim. There has to be a fire, a passion, deep-seated inside a person to have that kind of vision, and to follow through on it. So yeah, Carlos realizes that Richard Castle is probably only now – for the first time in his life – mentally forming a picture of what it is like for the women who choose the world's oldest profession. Women who are – in most cases – more or less owned by another person.
"Not a pretty picture, is it, Mr. Castle," Carlos asks, and is pleased to see the quick shake of the head from the author. "It's why that is one of the areas that I refrain from . . . it is one of the things I detest. And I detest the men – or women – who run and control this type of business." Carlos thinks once again of Eddie Baker, a man for whom he has little respect and likes even less. He decides at this moment that Eddie has lived on the women of San Francisco long enough.
He is also pleased that Castle has moved on, and is back to the business at hand.
"So, women are disappearing from the city. The street is telling the authorities that the women are being taken down south. Our hero," he says, glancing at Kate who reappears with three filled tumblers, "our hero doesn't believe the street, because she has connections with the man who runs the local brothel business who is seeing a slip in his business. This tells our hero that the abducted women are still here in the city, and are being used to attract business away from the established . . . providers," Castle continues, choosing his words carefully.
"And her first objective," Carlos now interjects, glancing at Kate for confirmation, "would be to identify and interview some of the clients who seem to have found a better way of spending their money."
Kate glances between the men, and nods her head in agreement. Castle continues.
"That's the first branch I would write," Castle tells him. "The second branch? Find out where the women are being held. Because of the first branch, this becomes easy. Where are the clients going to obtain the new product? Find where the consumer is going for the new business. Find that, and we find the women."
Carlos nods his head, smiling. This was – indeed – a stroke of genius to pull a well-known, out-of-the-box mystery writer into the equation. He just thinks differently. He considers possibilities that Sam would normally consider implausible, and makes them not just plausible . . . but even probable. Sam can already see, already sense how this can turn out.
"So, your hero would interview these clients," Carlos exhales, after a short pause.
"She would probably start with Eddie," Kate interrupts, drawing glances from both men, as Castle nods his head appreciatively.
"Already did," Carlos says simply, "but it appears I did not ask the correct question."
"Allow me," Kate requests, "as a private investigator. Or Jennifer."
Carlos considers this for a moment. He doesn't like Eddie, and isn't quite sure how he will react the next time he sees the man. Allowing Kate and Jennifer a crack at him is probably the wiser move. For the moment.
"Agreed," he finally says with a smile. "That done, how would your story unfold after that, Mr. Castle?"
"Well," Castle thinks, stroking his chin with his left hand, "the question of Bob's identity is the obvious reveal. But before that, I'd devote some time to showing the reader who the actual perpetrators of the kidnappings were. How did they pull it off? And there has to be more than one person. We know that most of these kidnappings occurred either on a city bus, or as the women were waiting for a bus, or disembarking from a bus. Way too hard to have just one person dragging a screaming woman away with no one the wiser."
"Agreed," Carlos replies, taking another sip of scotch. "Foolish not to have at least two, and back-up for them," as he unknowingly provides Castle with a bit of insight into his mindset as well.
"Finding the perpetrators is a second branch in finding where the women are being held. After all, it is doubtful that the perpetrators don't know where . . ."
Castle pauses, scribbling something out yet again, and now a smile crosses his face. Carlos opens his mouth to speak, but catches a hand gesture from Kate.
"No," she mouths. "Let him think it out," she mouths silently, and he nods in confirmation.
"Oh yes!" Castle exclaims. "Oh yes, that is sweet."
He continues writing, glancing up at his lover and his guest occasionally. Finally, he looks up, grabs the tumbler and takes a long swallow.
"The natural story," he begins, "is that the kidnappers grab the women and take them to . . . Bob, right? That's our main antagonist."
"Correct," Sam agrees.
"The natural story," Castle continues, "is that they grab the women and take them to Bob. The better story? Oh yes, this is good. The better story is that even the kidnappers do not realize that the women are still in the city!"
Castle immediately notices the looks of doubt on the faces of the man and woman with him, which only excites him further.
"No, no, c'mon, trust me – this is better," Castle almost pleads. "I am kidnapping women. I am taking them off a bus. Or capturing them at a bus stop. So I am probably drugging them. Somehow. I'd use a needle. Old school, but effective. I'd have two guys working it," he says, nodding his head in deference to Sam's thought.
"Two guys take the woman away. They put her in a car. If the street thinks that these girls are going south, that means that the guys who take her must also think she is going south, because . . . because they are the street! They believe the women have been taken south, and that's what they allow to slip out."
"Hmmm," is all Sam Carlos says, taking this in.
"Where does the street say they are going, Mr. Carlos? Specifically, I mean," Castle asks.
"Playas de Rosarito," Carlos tells him.
"Coastal town, south of Tijuana," Castle muses aloud. "Sweet. Yeah, that works. That works. Eliminates the border sequence. Getting a drugged woman across the border – that's a hole in the plot. If they are going to Playas de Rosarito, then we have a boat. They'd transport the women by boat. Which means the kidnappers are taking the women to a boat somewhere in the city for the trip south."
"Only there is no trip south, Mr. Castle," Carlos argues.
"Irrelevant," Castle dismisses the thought with a hand gesture, waving the thought away as if it were a pesky mosquito. "The idea is to make people think you are taking them south. The idea is to plant the thought that they can't risk a border incident, and so they take to the high seas," he bellows, drawing the third eye roll from Beckett in one day.
"But they don't take the women south," Castle continues on, excitedly. "They take them somewhere else. Either they keep them on the boat – which means that's where our clients are meeting them. That would be cool. I could see that. That's where business is transacted . . . or they are taking them somewhere close."
"Why not back into the city?" Carlos asks.
"Because you would know," Castle tells him. "And by you, I mean you personally. You, Sam Carlos. You would know. You have ears everywhere. Someone would have told you. The fact that no one has told you means that the clients have been sworn to secrecy. And it also means that the clients aren't doing business in the city."
Carlos doesn't react, but he believes this hypothesis. Yeah, he would know. And the fact that he doesn't know is what concerns him.
"Where then?" Kate asks aloud, herself now wondering.
For a full minute, the room is silent as each of them consider Kate's question. The only sound is the intermittent ice rattling the glass walls of the tumblers, being shaken back and forth. Suddenly, Castle stands and walks out of the room, leaving Kate and Sam sitting speechless, staring at each other. Finally, Kate stands, and walks out of the room in search of Castle, with Sam behind her.
"Castle?" she calls out. "Rick?"
The two roam through the downstairs before Kate sees Castle on the large, expansive patio overlooking the bay. She and Carlos walk through the exquisite french doors where Castle stands on the rail, staring out at the water in the distance.
"Mr. Castle?" Carlos asks, and glances out at the water in the distance, wondering what Castle is looking at. Finally, the author speaks.
"The island," he says simply. "That's how I would write it. That's where they would be."
"Alcatraz?" Kate asks, the doubt in her voice. That's too creepy even for the horniest man or woman. Far better places to sow one's oats, so to speak.
"No," Castle tells them both. "Not Alcatraz. Too obvious. And too-overused, too over-exposed. No, the big island, right there."
"Angel Island," Sam Carlos says with a whisper, and a broad smile crosses his face as he nods his head contentedly.
"Did you get all of this Jennifer?" Sam smiles as he leans his head to the side, over his shoulder, as he reaches back across his chest with his right hand, and retrieves the small bug on the lapel on the back collar of his shirt. Both Castle and Beckett stare in wonder at the scene playing out in front of them. They watch as Carlos smiles at the offensive item, drops it to the stone patio floor and steps on it. Roughly twenty seconds later, Sam Carlos' cell phone rings, bringing yet another smile to his face.
"Hello, Detective," he begins, speaking into his phone. "Good try. I almost missed it this time. I'm sure you heard all of this, and you have at least the beginnings of your answers. Ping me again sometime soon."
He hangs up, smiling, then turns to both Castle and Kate.
"My compliments, Mr. Castle. You have – in less than half an hour – given me more information, given me more to think about, given me more enjoyment than what usually takes hours in my line of business. I hope that we meet again – sooner than later."
Castle reaches across to shake his hand, which Carlos accepts. The two men regard one another for just a brief instant.
"Yes, I do trust that our paths will cross again. You never know, Mr. Castle, given your investment here in Sausalito, when you might need my assistance."
Normally, Sam Carlos sees fear, trepidation, or at the very least, strong concern on the faces of men at this point of their conversations. He is pleasantly surprised – again – to see none of that on the face of Richard Castle.
"You know, you are probably right about that," Castle admits. "I look forward to that," he says, pulling Kate closer to him.
Carlos nods in agreement, then reaches for Kate, who leans in, accepting a kiss to the cheek.
"No doubt, Jennifer will be calling you shortly," he smiles, and receives a nod from Kate. "You both know where to find me, how to find me."
With that, Sam Carlos walks back through the french doors, and out the front door. Seconds later, Castle and Kate glance down at the man walking across the street to the limo parked there. He turns and looks back at the patio at the couple there, offering a salute, which is returned by Castle. Kate waves goodbye.
Before sliding into the car, however, Carlos looks down the street and twirls a single finger in the air. Suddenly, two motorcycles roar to life from down the street and slide into place next to Carlos. He says a few words, and the two cycles are off and running in the distance as Sam slides in behind the wheel.
"Back-up indeed," Castle thinks to himself, and smiles as Kate's cell phone rings. Both glance down, and see Jennifer's face and contact information spring to life on Kate's screen.
"She's all yours," Castle smiles, and walks back inside.