Shared Obsession Chapter 122
Kate hits the speaker button as her contact, Marie Gainer, in the Special Prosecutor's office, finally picks up the phone. "Oh, Detective Beckett. I don't have anything I can report about the investigation except that it's really moving along now. What can I do for you?"
"You can tell me why I received a call that a car would be coming for me and Richard Castle tomorrow, Ms. Gainer."
"I'm sorry. What?"
"I got a call from your office saying someone wants to see us and they'd be sending a car for us tomorrow. I've been trying to call you ever since. This is the first time I've gotten through."
"I'm sorry about that, Detective. I was in a meeting in a SCIF. I couldn't bring in my phone. But as far as I know, no one from here called you. I'll check around to see if something came up while I was in the meeting and get back to you."
"All right," Kate agrees. "Spidey-sense still tingling?" she asks Castle, shoving her phone into her slacks pocket.
"Tinglier than ever."
"Whether there's something wrong or not, Gainer will get back to me."
"I'm sure she will, but Kate, if Bracken is targeting us somehow, his people can probably do a lot more than send a car."
"Well, until we find out, the precinct is probably the safest place we can be," Kate figures. "We're surrounded by people with guns."
"But Alexis isn't," Castle points out. "Neither is my mother or your father. I'm going to call Marlowe Prep. The school has security. I'll ask them to keep an eye out and make sure Alexis doesn't leave with anyone but me. And I'm going to tell Mother to be on her guard too. And you should call your father."
"Babe, don't you think you're jumping the gun a little?"
"If I am, no harm done. But if we don't take precautions, who knows what could happen?"
"All right," Kate agrees, reaching back into her pocket. "I'll call my dad. You do what you have to do. And I'll make sure I'm ready if anyone tries to get into the loft."
The man who'd introduced himself to Castle as Anderson Cross studies satellite photos of the Special Prosecutor's office. As far as he can tell, everyone coming in and out belongs there. But that's not a surprise. The call that went to Kate Beckett was a spoof, someone pretending to be from the DOJ. But whoever it is might have a mole inside, maybe more than one. And if they come up with a legitimate-sounding excuse for Richard and Kate to make themselves vulnerable, it will take a special brand of intervention to keep them safe. Fortunately, that's his brand."
With her off-duty gun under her jacket and a pistol in her ankle holster, Kate tries her best to be interested as Alexis and Martha rehearse for a show. Their performance is intended to be part of a fundraiser organized by the students at Marlowe Prep to support a homeless shelter. She wishes that Marie Gainer would call, but so far she hasn't heard a word. She glances toward Castle, recognizing the smile pasted on his face. He always dotes on his daughter, but Kate can tell he's at least as distracted as she is.
Martha blindfolds Alexis and walks toward a table with objects hidden under a velvet cloth. She picks one up. "Tell me, Seer, what do I hold in my hand now?"
"You're holding a – wallet!" Alexis announces.
Castle applauds loudly. "Brava!"
"Patience, Darling," Martha chides. "There's more." She reaches for another object. "Reveal to me what you see now."
"A pair of glasses," Alexis declares triumphantly.
Martha smiles smugly at her son. "She's a natural, much better than you were at her age."
"And I'm very proud," Castle responds. "Why the sudden foray into mysterious realms, Alexis? I thought you and your crew were going with a dance routine."
"The cheerleaders decided to do one and they've been practicing together all year. And every school's got dance crews. This doubles as part of my genealogy project for school. Half of the assignment is to collect stories from family members. I had no idea that Gram's folks had a mind-reading act on Coney Island."
"Really?" Kate asks.
"Yes, they were very famous in their day," Martha confirms.
Alexis scritches to the edge of her chair. "I love all their codes. 'Tell me' means wallet and 'reveal to me' means glasses."
"Yes, you come from a long line of charlatans and hucksters, myself included," Castle says. "But we have high hopes for you."
As an alert sounds from Beckett's pocket, she and Castle lock gazes. "We should probably take this in the office," she says. "No reason to disrupt the rehearsal." She quickly strides across the great room with Castle close behind her. "Yes, Ms. Gainer, what did you find out?"
"It looks like someone got their wires crossed, Detective Beckett. We were planning to call you and Mr. Castle in to testify a few weeks from now, but transport received the wrong schedule. That's why you got the call. But when we do want you to come in, I'll contact you personally. I'm sorry if you were thrown by the request, but have a good evening."
"All right, thanks, Ms. Gainer. Same to you," Kate responds.
"Do you believe that?" Castle asks. "That's a pretty big screw-up for an organization that's supposed to be so secure."
"We've seen a lot bigger ones. We've made a lot bigger ones," Kate reminds him. "The Special Prosecutor's office is as human as anywhere else."
"And just as subject to evil influences. I still don't like it, Kate. Maybe some of my Grandparents' intuition got passed down."
"But they were phonies, Castle."
"So the story goes. But even real talent needs propping up now and then. Just ask my editor. Anyway, we need to keep our heads in the game."
"We will, Castle." Her phone sounds off again. "That's Esposito. Looks like we've got a body. And there's a game, just a different one."
The lights of a baseball field shine brightly down on the crime scene. "The victim is a Hispanic male, mid-30s," Esposito reports. "A local spotted him when he was out walking his dog. His wallet's missing. If it was a robbery, I bet a week's salary the killer didn't know who he was rolling."
"You ID'd him without a wallet?" Kate questions.
Esposito looks down sadly at the body. "Unfortunately."
"You know the guy?" Castle asks.
"Everyone in New York knows the guy," Esposito claims.
"But you just bet the killer didn't," Castle points out.
Kate crouches to get a better view of the victim's face. "It's Cano Vega, the baseball player."
Esposito nods. "Yep."
"Are you sure?" Castle asks.
"He was my first-round draft pick in my fantasy league three years running," Esposito explains. ".314 batting average, 4 gold gloves, and one championship ring."
Kate smiles dreamily. "I caught one of his homers once. He had just come to the States from Cuba and my dad took us out to the bleachers at Shea."
Castle's eyebrows rise. "I didn't know you were a baseball fan."
"It's genetic, on my father's side. He's been taking me to games since I was three."
"I guess we've all got family inheritances," Castle murmurs.
"How about you, Castle?" Esposito inquires. "We all know about your floor seats to the Knicks, but do you ever take in America's pastime?"
"I was tall enough to play basketball in school – at least the schools where I was around long enough. But without a father to toss the ball around, I never got into baseball. My mother did though, not so much for the game as the players. She has a thing for strong arms. She took me and my checkbook along to a player's charity event now and then, so I met some of them. Mother's relationship with a few was a bit more complicated."
Perlmutter looks up from the body. "This isn't that complicated. Someone used his head for batting practice, 36 ouncer to the back of the head. By the look of the spatter, he was hit multiple times."
"Time of death?" Kate asks.
"From his temperature, I'd say maybe two, three hours at most."
"What's with all the bruising?" Kate queries.
"Post mortem, from the balls."
Castle winces. "What?"
Esposito points at a machine. "Pitching arm. It ran for a while after he was dead."
"Battered and bruised by the tools of the game he loved," Castle declares. "A classic tragic death."
"If it's so classic, who did it?" Esposito demands.
Castle shrugs. "Beats me."