Shared Obsession Chapter 137
Even in the box, Lady Irena looks in as confident control as she would in a board or courtroom. Kate holds up a photograph of the wineglass from Jessica's apartment. "Did you know that lip prints are like fingerprints? No two are alike."
Irena smiles. "According to the FBI, perhaps. But then they said the same thing about hair comparison until all those cases were thrown out because the analysts couldn't even tell animal hair from human. And as I recall, lip prints have only been introduced as evidence in one case. Hardly convincing to a jury. But for the sake of argument, Detective, what about that lip print?"
"We found this on a wine glass in Jessica's apartment," Kate replies.
"It appears to be your fascinating shade," Castle adds. "And forensic analysis of cosmetics is considerably more ubiquitous in crime labs than lip prints."
"So what do you think we'll get when our lab compares it to your lip print and Mistress Red lipstick?" Kate inquires.
"Even if they get a match, that stain could have been there for months," Irena says. "One thing about Mistress Red, without specially formulated pads, it's notoriously difficult to remove. Can't let the façade crack."
"The stain wasn't there for months," Kate counters.
"We checked your car service," Castle continues. "They said they dropped you off at 9:00 pm in front of Jessica's place on the night she was killed."
"You were the last one to see her alive," Kate declares. "What happened that night?"
"Did you find out who she really was, that she was studying her clients without their permission?" Castle presses. "If word of that got out it would have destroyed your business. That can't have made you happy."
Irena leans across the table, aiming her cleavage at Castle. "You're grasping at straws and that can't make you happy." She shifts her gaze to Kate. "Detective, at this time I'm asserting my right to legal counsel. I won't be answering any more questions."
"Then perhaps you'd enjoy a little bondage while you wait," Kate suggests. "The officer outside will take you to Holding." As LT leads her off, Irena waves an untroubled goodbye.
"It probably won't take her long to get an attorney in here," Castle guesses. "She's probably got a few as clients."
"She probably does," Kate considers. "But she was too confident. Either she thinks we don't have enough evidence to get a conviction, or…."
"She didn't do it," Castle fills in.
"How'd it go with Lady Irena?" Ryan asks as the team regathers at the murderboard.
"She's lawyering up. What did you guys find at the apartment?" Kate asks.
"Well, it looks like we found the crime scene," Esposito says. "Irena was pretty good at cleaning up after herself. There was no blood or trace evidence, but the area around Jessica's bed lit up like a Christmas tree. It'd been scrubbed down with bleach."
"That's why we didn't find Jessica's research," Kate assumes. "Lady Irena must have taken it and disposed of it somewhere else."
"Yeah, but she didn't quite clean everything," Ryan explains. "Once CSU stripped the bed, the swab test revealed saliva on one of the pillows from her screams as she was smothered."
"Looks like Lady Irena would do anything to protect her business, even kill," Castle comments. "But why smother Jessica? And why in her bedroom? If the two were having wine together, the more medieval thing to do would have been to use poison. No mess, no fuss, no getting down on her knees to scrub a floor with bleach. Isn't it the guys who are supposed to be on their knees?"
"The pillow could have been a weapon of opportunity, Castle," Kate suggests. "And you said she'd do anything to protect her business."
"Yes, I did," Castle admits. "But there's still a piece missing somewhere." He checks his watch. "Oh, Alexis has a violin lesson, and I'm not leaving her alone with that new teacher of hers. I don't like the expression on Alexis's face when she rosins her bow. The man looks like he should be playing Superman, not first chair in the string section."
"He's never laid a hand on her," Kate points out. "And besides, I've taught her a few moves in case some guy tries something."
"A favor I greatly appreciate," Castle says. "But I still want to check up on her. And I promised her post-lesson pasta."
"All right," Kate agrees. "See you later."
"Are you straining those noodles or just my patience?" Martha inquires as Castle stands staring into space over his colander.
He startles. "Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry. It's just this case. I keep thinking I'm missing something."
Alexis sniffs as she bounces into the kitchen. "That smells good, and I'm starved."
"Miss your usual snack time squeezing in some cheerleading practice before your lesson?" Castle asks.
"Uh, no. Turns out cheerleading conflicts with my fencing schedule, my violin lessons, and French Club. Cheerleading is more of a lifestyle. And as much as I liked to visit, I wouldn't want to live there."
"We both learned a valuable lesson today," Castle expounds. "You learned that you can expand your horizons and grow. I learned that if it involves short skirts and boys," he suppresses the urge to add "and sexy violin teachers," and goes on, "I'm not going to like it."
"Fair enough," Alexis agrees, noticing some spatters of marinara sauce. "You want me to help you clean up?"
"Clean up!" Castle echoes. "Enjoy the pasta. I need to get back to the precinct."
Castle runs off the elevator straight to Kate's desk. "Who washed the pillowcase?" he puffs.
"Slow down, Babe," Kate urges. "What?"
Esposito said CSU didn't find anything until they stripped the bed. That means there was saliva on the pillow and not on the pillowcase. Who washed the pillowcase?"
"You're right," Kate says. "Someone must have washed the pillowcase. But the washer-dryer cycle would have taken at least an hour."
Castle points toward the murder board. "At which point, according to our timeline, the roommate would have been home."
"Irena couldn't have gotten out in time," Kate realizes.
Castle locks gazes with her. "Only one person could've cleaned the apartment."
Danielle hesitantly opens the door to her apartment. "I -I don't understand. I thought you'd caught the killer."
"We thought so too," Kate admits. "But it wasn't her."
"Then who was it?" Danielle asks.
"It was you, Danielle," Kate replies.
Danielle backs away. "Me? Oh, why would I kill my best friend?"
"In her research, Jessica describes being in a dysfunctional relationship," Castle explains. "She was afraid to leave because the other person had become dangerously co-dependent."
"At first we thought it was her boyfriend, Tyler," Kate picks up, "but it wasn't, was it?"
Danielle crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The research Matt dropped off." Kate's tone softens. "It must've been very hurtful to read all the things that she wrote about you."
"Jessica loved me," Danielle protests. "She would never hurt me."
Castle pulls a sheet of paper from under his jacket. "'Subject B' shows all the signs of being a masochist, completely dependent for her sense of self."
"We know you read the files, Danielle," Kate says, "that's why you staged the body that way."
"No, I didn't read anything," Danielle argues. "There was nothing here."
"Because you got rid of it all," Kate says.
You're wrong!" Danielle chokes out.
"It had to be you, Danielle. You were the only one with time to clean up after yourself," Kate responds. "You scrubbed the floor with bleach. You washed her pillowcase, but you didn't wash her pillow. It showed how you smothered her."
Danielle drops to the floor, covering her face with her hands. "She said she was going to move out, that she was done with me. I pushed her and she hit her head on the table. She started to scream. She said she hated me. I told her to shut up, but she wouldn't stop. I had to stop her. I didn't mean to kill her. I just couldn't let her leave me."
The DNI pages through a voluminous dossier. "Sonofabitch! This guy's been using his inside knowledge to enrich himself from drugs and arms trade from at least six different countries."
"Closer to ten, Sir," says an aide who'd examined the report in more detail. "And he has ties to multiple criminal organizations in the U.S."
"But we have a problem," the DNI realizes. "If this goes to court, things are going to come out in discovery that we don't want anyone, especially foreign governments, to know. We can't ever let Brinkman be publicly tried."
"How about Guantanamo? A military tribunal?" his aide proposes.
"There's too much pressure to close the damn place down. The press will be all over it. But, do we have a medical evaluation on Brinkman?"
"He does have a heart condition, but for a man his age, he's surprisingly vital. He's been faking dementia for at least a decade."
"Still, as far as the country knows, he's a sick old man. Fine, we'll have the docs declare him incompetent to stand trial and we can send him to a hospital – our hospital – and follow up on what's in this document."
"What about Bracken? He's all over this thing."
"The evidence already gathered on the murders he ordered gives the special prosecutor enough to send him away for the rest of his life. That should be enough red meat for the press. So let's give the special prosecutor a push to put his case for that out front ASAP."
"Yes, Sir. We can do that."
