Shared Obsession Chapter 88

Stephen Cannell sticks a chip in Castle's special seven-layer dip. "That's a pretty good story, Ricky. It's got a big opening, major twist…."

"I gotta say," Michael Connelly interrupts, "I saw the whole drug mule thing coming."

"Nice try, Connelly," Castle retorts, "but you're not going to goad me into raising. Stephen, you've been working on a show based on that underground parlor game you wrote about in King Con, haven't you?"

"Ricky, that's not supposed to be common knowledge," Stephen protests.

"Well, somehow my mother's agent got wind of it," Castle retorts. "And if she knows, most of the New York acting community does, so no point in holding back."

Castle turns to Connelly. "And you once had Harry Bosch investigate the murder of a poker player."

Connelly looks up from his cards. "Yeah, in One Dollar Jackpot. Why?"

"Well, Michael, this guy that we're looking for is a regular in the triad-run games in Chinatown. I thought one of you might know someone who could get me in."

"What are you, nuts?" Cannell exclaims. "Those are crooks and killers down there."

"I work with a homicide detective," Castle reminds him. "Everything is about crooks and killers."

"Isn't working with a bit of an exaggeration, Ricky?" Cannell questions. "Doing research is one thing, but the Russian Mafia, the triads? You tangle with those people and all the bestsellers in the world aren't going to protect you."

"I'm not counting on bestsellers to protect me. Kevlar's a lot more dependable, and so is Detective Beckett," Castle declares. "I'm just going in as another rich, bored, thrill seeker looking to try my luck."

Cannell nods his understanding. "So it's about a woman. You must really like her."

"Who?" Castle asks.

"That police detective of yours. Look, Ricky, why don't you forget about tangling with guys who'd slit your throat without a second thought and just buy her some flowers?"

"Given our history with flowers, that wouldn't go over too well. And what she needs, what we both need, is to solve this case ASAP. So, do you know the place or not?"

Cannell pulls a pad and pen out of his pocket. "It's your funeral, Castle."


Beckett checks a monitor inside a nondescript police surveillance van. "Are you sure this is the place, Castle?"

"Cannell has never steered me wrong," Castle replies, "except when I was trying to buy Ralph Hinkley's alien jammies to wear to Supercon. He told me the studio had them, but it turned out Robert Culp stashed them under his bed. Other than that, he's always been right on."

"Castle, the guys in there won't be cosplaying," Kate warns. "Their weapons will be real and they play for keeps."

"I know that," Castle assures her. "Hey, I've got my trusty Kevlar under my shirt."

"Which won't help if the killer tries to strangle you like he did John Allen. Or he could just shoot you in the head," Kate points out.

"But unlike Allen, I'll have great cops listening and watching my every move." Castle turns to Esposito. "We're set, aren't we?"

"Button cam's in place," Esposito confirms.

"Good picture and sound," Ryan adds. "But remember, we can hear you but you can't hear us. Once you leave the van you're on your own."

As Castle heads for the door, Kate grabs his arm. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

"I go in and find the tattooed Russian. I get a clear picture of him and then I get out. But wait, Beckett, if I can't hear you, how do I know you've got a clear picture?"

"Just keep the camera on him as long as you would to get a good video of anyone," Kate urges. "But after that, you get your ass out of there."

"Hey, Beckett, I'll be fine. Besides, this is Chinatown. How many tattooed Russians can there be in there?"

Kate stares at the door after Castle leaves. "Anyone else have a bad feeling about this?"

Ryan and Esposito raise their hands.


"I'm in," Castle whispers into his button. "Oh, a tattooed Russian. Uh-oh, there's another one. And another one. But it looks like they all play at one table. That's where John Allen must have played. If we're going to figure out which one's our guy, that's where I'll have to join their game."

Kate presses her palm to her mouth as she monitors the feed from Castle's camera. "That wasn't the plan Castle," she murmurs.

"From what I can see, they're card bullies, raising the pots to force their opponents to stay in the game. That's how Allen got hooked." Castle continues. He grins as he approaches the table. "How's it going?"

"A Russian with a Van Dyke beard and a smirk looks up. "This is a no-limits table."

"Which is perfect, because I'm a no-limits kind of a guy." Castle pulls a packet of bills out of his jacket pocket and hands it to the table's banker. "Twenty thousand to change for chips."

"No way Montgomery would authorize that," Ryan declares.

"He didn't," Kate replies. "It's Castle's own money."

"That's a big chunk of my yearly salary," Ryan notes. "But he's acting like it's pocket change."

Castle gazes at Van Dyke. "Nice tattoos. What do they say?"

"They say mind your own business and play cards," Van Dyke replies.

"All right, I don't mean to pry," Castle assures him. "I'm a writer. Just doing a bit of research."

"Anything we might have heard of?" another tattooed player asks.

"Um, Storm Fall, Storm's Last Stand."

"Derrick Storm?" A Russian with a vest inquires.

Castle nods. "Yeah."

"I loved that guy!" Vest proclaims. "Why did you kill him?"

"It's a long story, but I'm working on a new story," Castle claims. "It's about underground poker. It's very hush-hush. I just came down to get a feel for the world."

"And you want it to be authentic," Van Dyke guesses.

"Exactly!" Castle declares.

Van Dyke smiles. "No problem." He says something in Russian to the others at the table, and they break out in raucous laughter.

"Seems like Castle's making friends," Ryan says.

"The way cheese makes friends with a rat," Beckett replies. "The guy with the Van Dyke just told the others they're going to take him for everything he's got."

"You speak Russian?" Esposito asks.

"Semester in St. Petersburg between my junior year and senior year in college." Kate switches to a Russian accent. "Sometimes when bored I go to tourist spots in Brighton Beach and pretend to be a Muscovite."

"Raise," one of the players at Castle's table calls out.

Another pushes his cards away. "Fold."

Castle stretches, trying to get everyone on camera. "Call."

"So, Writer," Van Dyke says, "tell me more about this book."

"Well, it's about a Russian mobster with a taste for cards. He preys off desperation, luring people to bet more than they can afford."

"And why would he do this?" Van Dyke asks.

"Because he's also a loan shark. He fronts people that cash and banks on…."

"What the hell is he doing?" Kate yells at the screen.

"He's playing poker," Esposito says, "trying to provoke one of these guys into giving up his hand."

Kate tightly wraps her fingers around the handle of her tote. "Or killing him."

"But this one guy – family guy – he gets in a little too deep," Castle continues. "Can't pay the loan back. So the mobster has no choice. He has to kill him. So one night he lures him into an abandoned building, strangles him, and throws him off the roof."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Van Dyke comments. "Why not just put a bullet in his head? Much more civil."

As Castle forces himself to join in the amusement at the table, Esposito stares at the monitor. "Hey, check that out. What's that quiet guy doing with his pinky?"

"He's twisting it. It's a prosthetic!" Kate exclaims. "That's why it didn't leave a mark on Allen's neck. That's our killer. Castle, get out of there now! Damn! He can't hear me."

"Security is pretty well armed," Esposito observes "We can't just bust in there."

Kate hops out of the van. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, call for backup." She opens her tote.

"What are you going to do?" Esposito asks, "Lip gloss them to death?"

"Something like that." Kate goes behind the van where she's out of sight and starts pulling off her cop clothes. She takes a short red sheath and stiletto pumps from her tote, quickly pulls them on and hand rakes her hair into just enough disorder to hint at the bedroom. "F**k! I hope I'm not too late."

A/N In canon, Kate said she spent her semester in Kiev. But I think we all know by now that Kiev, or Kyiv, as it is now called, is in Ukraine, not Russia. She also said in canon that she went to Little Odesa to pretend to be a Muscovite. Odesa, also, is in Ukraine. Brighton Beach in NYC is where the biggest Russian enclave is and where the tourists go to gawk. Despite "Belly of the Beast," the chances of being able to fool a native Russian speaker after one semester in Russia are pretty slim. But at least in this episode, Kate just used a Russian accent.