Shared Obsession Chapter 98
An alert sounds from Beckett's cell phone. "I got a hit on Ashley Cosway's credit card. There was a lunch charge from Le Petit Bistro."
"That's right next door to her office," Castle recalls. He checks the clock on the wall of the bullpen. "The same servers may not be on shift. But if the Cosways are regular patrons, they may have a few things to say about them. Feel like having dinner with a side of questions?"
"Beats having the vultures descend if we order pizza," Kate replies.
A hostess whose concealer incompletely covers the circles under her eyes shows Kate and Castle to a table. He skims the menu. "Not bad. They have an impressive offering of crêpes, perfect for a late evening repast. No way the strawberries would be fresh this time of year unless they truck them in from warmer climes, but the heartier fillings look enticing. "How would you feel about boeuf bourguignon?"
Kate hungrily stares at the listings. "Right now any kind of beef including a roach coach burrito would sound good. But we'll have to get our questioning about the Cosways in."
"From the looks of our hostess, the staff here work long hours. We can start with our server. Maybe we'll get lucky."
A server, looking as sleep deprived as the hostess, arrives at the table with a forced smile. "I'm Carrie, what can I get for you?"
Castle pushes Stephen King's imagery of teenage faces covered in angst and blood to the back of his mind. "The lady and I would both like boeuf bourguignon crêpes. And if you can bring coffee first, we'd appreciate it. It's been a long day."
"I hear that," Carrie responds.
"They work you hard around here?" Kate asks.
"Yeah, but with what it costs to live in New York, I can use the extra hours – and the extra tips."
"Not a native of the Big Apple?" Castle inquires.
"I'm from Ohio. In our town, you could rent a whole house for less than a studio apartment goes for here. But at least I'm where the action is."
"Trying to break into theater?" Castle queries.
"Like everyone else," Carrie acknowledges.
Castle nods sympathetically. "Mm-hmm. When I was growing up, I remember my mother fighting just to get an audition."
A genuine grin breaks out on Carrie's face. "Of course! You're Richard Castle, Martha Rodger's son. I saw a video of her on stage playing Mama Rose. She is incredible! And I heard you're working with the police." She turns to Kate. "Are you the detective Mr. Castle is shadowing?"
Kate extends her hand. "Kate Beckett."
"So are you two here on a case or is it a date?" Carrie asks.
Castle winks. "Maybe a little of both."
"Were you working lunch on Friday afternoon?" Kate asks.
"I was just coming on around one o'clock," Carrie recalls.
"Do you remember a couple having a loud exchange?" Castle queries.
"I couldn't miss that. It was more than loud. They were screaming at each other," Carrie says. "Normally, the manager would ask them to take it outside. But the woman is a regular customer. I think she works next door. So he just went over and asked them to keep it down."
"Do you know the woman's name?" Kate inquires.
"The guy shouting at her called her Ashley."
"Thank you, Carrie. That's really helpful," Kate says, smothering a yawn.
Carrie looks down at the bare table. "I'll get your coffee."
Kate takes a grateful sip of strong brew as Carrie retreats to the kitchen. "What do you want to bet that Jason Cosway is the one Ashley was thinking of getting a restraining order against?"
"I'd be a fool to take that bet," Castle replies. "But supposedly, he was at the hockey game during the TOD."
"That alibi always seemed a little soft to me," Kate declares.
"But it should be pretty easy to check out. His friends, if they exist, might cover for him. But doesn't the Garden have video surveillance of who enters and leaves?" Castle wonders.
"I believe they do," Kate says. "It won't take much to find out."
Kate splits up the video surveillance from the Garden between herself, Castle, and Karpowski. Castle distributes triple espressos as they stare at their screens. "It's weird to do this hoping not to see someone."
Kate sighs. "But if he's there, we have no suspect. So settle in."
Ryan stomps across the bullpen followed by an expletive-spewing Esposito. Castle hits pause and looks up. "What happened?"
"Ballistics screwed us!" Esposito exclaims.
"Our mugger's gun doesn't match the bullet taken from the vic's body," Ryan clarifies.
"When you guys had him in the box, didn't he tell you he didn't do it?" Castle asks.
Esposito snorts. "Yeah. And if you ask every con at Rikers, they'll all tell you they're innocent. But without a ballistics match, we have to let him go and we're back to no suspect."
"Join the club," Kate says wearily. "I just spotted Jason Cosway entering the Garden and it's time-stamped 6:55."
"And I've got him exiting after the game," Karpowski adds in disgust.
"Maybe he had someone kill his wife," Castle suggests. "Didn't the financials show he took out a $3 million insurance policy on her last month?"
"But they didn't show any unexplained outlays of cash to contract a hit," Kate recalls. "Still he could have a hidden account somewhere. We need to get him in here again."
"Look, um, the insurance policy was Ashley's idea," Cosway claims.
"OK, fine, Jason, it was Ashley's idea," Kate responds. "Can anyone confirm that?"
"I'm sure someone can. Maybe a friend?" Jason suggests.
"Your friend or hers?" Castle questions.
"Hers," Jason insists.
"Well her best friend Brandy had no idea about life insurance," Kate declares, "but she did know that your wife intended to take out a restraining order against you."
Cosway's palm slaps the table. "That's insane. It's absolutely ridiculous."
"Want to tell us about last Friday?" Kate invites.
"What about last Friday?" Jason demands.
"About the screaming match you and Ashley had at Le Petite Bistro that carried on to her office," Kate replies. "We have multiple witnesses."
"OK, you have witnesses," Jason retorts. "What does that prove? That we're married."
"What did you fight about?" Kate presses.
Jason crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't remember."
"See, I'm having a hard time believing that," Kate returns.
"You can believe what you want, Detective Beckett. But we both know that I was at a hockey game while someone was killing my wife." Jason's chair scrapes against the floor as he gets to his feet. "So unless you have something else, I'm leaving."
Castle drags into the loft to find Alexis sitting disconsolately at the counter. "Baby, what are you doing up?"
"I couldn't sleep. Dad, have you ever been really sure about something, just to have it all fall apart?"
"As a matter of fact, I have," Castle admits. "Owen?"
"It was a train wreck."
"What happened?"
"Thalia."
"The muse of comedy?"
"Thalia, some perky girl with big…." Alexis cups her hands in front of her chest. "And there's nothing funny about her. She came over to our table gushing about how she and Owen went to Camp Chumash together third-grade summer, and how she was his first crush. The whole night was one big walk down memory lane."
Castle cups his daughter's cheek. "I'm sorry, Sweetie."
"And the weird part was Owen didn't even remember her. Not that it stopped him from being totally into her. I mean even in the taxi back, he kept saying how amazing it was that they ran into each other after all these years at Serendipity. How it was so …."
"Serendipitous," Castle fills in.
"How am I supposed to compete with that?" the teen moans.
Castle wraps her in his arms and kisses the top of her head. "I wish I had an answer. But I'll tell you this. Little boys usually remember little girls who fawn over them. They just can't make up their minds between pride and loathing. So if the much-awarded Owen can't recall this Thalia, then there's a hole in her story somewhere."
"Yeah," Alexis considers. "But her story sounded perfect, so I don't know where."
"When it comes to missing holes in stories, join the club."
