Shared Obsession Chapter 31
Castle rushes off the elevator directly to Kate's desk. "Vulcan Simmons?"
She points to an image on her computer screen. "He hasn't been picked up in years, so it's an old picture."
Castle surveys the face that smirks, even in a mug shot. "That it's old only helps. It's him, Beckett, the man shaking hands with Bracken in Celia's photo. So what's our next step? Can we go check out your mother's papers for references to Simmons and Bracken?"
"As long as I don't have an active case, I can ask Montgomery for a few hours of personal time and…."
Her landline jangles, almost as startling as a fire alarm. "Damn! Beckett." Kate reaches for a pen and legal pad. "Yes. I've got it. I'll be right there."
"What?" Castle asks.
"Someone found a body in concrete at a construction site. And it's frozen solid."
"Beckett, it was in the 40's last night, and it's almost 60 out there now. And concrete puts out heat as it cures. So how could a body be frozen?"
"I don't know Castle. But I have to get to the crime scene. The boys will be going too. Are you coming?"
"I got a call from Gina this morning after you left. She said another shipment of books came in and to be on call for a reading. But I'll be your shadow until she tags me in."
"Just don't make like Peter Pan's shadow and get caught without me."
Castle presses the down button on the elevator. "I don't see a crime scene as resembling Neverland."
"This construction site is active," Esposito announces. He points to the body. "No way she was here last night."
Lanie gestures toward a torn garment bag. "There are pieces of plastic from that frozen to the victim."
"So she was inside the bag?" Kate queries.
"It looks that way," Lanie responds. "And I can't do an examination until she thaws out."
"Can't you just put her under a heat lamp or something?" Esposito asks.
"Only on gentle heat. I don't want to cook her. If she thaws out too fast it will damage her tissues so I won't get a clear picture of what happened. I'll have to warm her gradually."
"That will take a long time," Castle notes.
"What, have you thawed a body before, Castle?" Esposito jibes.
"No, but I've thawed out a 28-pound Thanksgiving turkey. It took all night. And this poor woman must weigh what, at least 120?"
"That's pretty close, Castle," Lanie agrees. "The concrete probably started the job, but it may be a couple of days before I can tell you much."
Kate gazes around the scene. "Who besides the workers could get in here? Wasn't there any security?"
"A chain link fence," Ryan replies.
"But a pair of bolt cutters took care of that," Esposito adds.
"Looks like our guy was hoping she'd disappear into the concrete pour," Ryan speculates. "A few more feet and she would have."
Castle stares down at a face, frozen in time as well as position. "It's kind of odd, taking the trouble to freeze a body and then dumping it. It's like we've got two personality types working here. A killer who freezes a body is a keeper. He wants a souvenir. But a guy who dumps a body…."
"Doesn't want to be reminded of his crime," Kate finishes, beckoning to a CSU tech holding a camera. "Get a closeup of her face. I want to check her against missing persons."
"Wow, did the department dig up the money for facial recognition software?" Castle inquires.
Kate sighs. "Not quite."
Castle surveys the large books of photographs Kate lays out on the table in the 12th's conference room. "Welcome to the NYPD's official facial recognition database."
Castle grabs for a thick volume. "This really is old school. The digitized systems have been around since the early 2000s. Why hasn't the department invested in one?"
"The same department you complained still uses latex gloves?" Kate reminds him. "The budget, Castle. It's always the money."
He flips a page. "Much as it often is in murder. I wonder if money figured into this woman's death somehow."
Kate turns a page of her own. "Considering that Lanie can't even tell us how she died yet, it's a little too soon to ask that question. But by the time we get through all of these, maybe she'll have something."
Castle sneezes out black dust, stretches and rubs the back of his neck after paging through his sixth book. As he's reaching for number seven, his cell buzzes insistently. Even before checking the caller ID, he's pretty sure who it is. "Gina! What's up?"
The ex's voice penetrates the room. "You are Rick, at seven tonight at Bartholomew Books. And if you're late, I will pour honey on your eyeballs and stake you out over a nest of fire ants."
"Not very creative, Gina," Castle quips. "That method of torture's been used for centuries. But I get the point. I'll be there."
"You'd better be. We've already lost days of sales in the Metropolitan area. We can't afford any more screwups."
"I'll be there," Castle repeats.
"Looks like you've got your marching orders," Kate observes.
After sneezing again, Rick checks his watch. "It's almost five. Hey, I'm sorry. I wanted to help you go through your mother's papers when you got off shift. You shouldn't have to go through them again alone. But I have to go clean up and let Alexis designate suitable authorial attire for tonight's festivities. I don't suppose you want to come. These things usually don't go past nine or so. We could look at your mother's papers afterward, and then pick up on our frozen victim's case again tomorrow morning. Maybe Lanie will have something by then."
Kate's eyes sweep over the remaining unreviewed books. "It looks like I've only got about an hour's work left, maybe less. Maybe I can meet you at the bookstore."
"I'll look forward to it."
Kate grunts her frustration as she gazes into her closet. On the rare occasion when she's dressing for something special, Lanie usually helps her choose an outfit. But Lanie's working overtime overseeing the thawing of Jane Doe, at least until she ensures the woman's fingertips survive well enough to yield usable prints. So Kate's on her own. She shoves her neatly hung blouses and jackets aside until she reaches a garment almost at the end of the rod. The tags still hang from a sleek hot pink dress cut to show off long, well-shaped legs. She bought it on a whim but never had anywhere she wanted to wear it – until now.
With her unofficial uniform of blouse, slacks, and a blazer, Castle's never seen Kate in a dress. Actually, in the last few years, most of the dresses she's worn have been to do duty as a bridesmaid. They were all too obnoxious to wear for anything else, and Kate gave them to Good Will as soon as she could. Perhaps some other women won't have to shell out for the privilege of ensuring a bride is radiant, especially compared to her attendants.
Kate pulls the dress over her head. It slides over her slim figure as if custom-made. She can pair it with red three-inch heels, also an unplanned purchase and rarely worn. Staring at herself in the mirror, hit with the impulse to pull on a T-shirt and jeans, Kate almost loses her nerve. But like the unfortunate victim in Lanie's lab, she has to thaw sometime. She can feel her icy mantle beginning to crack. Shards prick her mind with excitement and fear.
