Shared Obsession Chapter 165
"We found Robinson's recordings in Bobby's office, mixed in with his DVDs," Ryan reports.
"Which makes perfect sense," Kate figures. "Janine said he locked himself in his office. He must have been listening to the CDs."
"And she noticed he was acting paranoid after that," Castle adds.
"We need to hear what's on those recordings," Kate declares.
"Man, how many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with writers, actors, and directors can this guy have?" Esposito complains as the recordings go on.
"That's how business is done," Castle explains. "And business meals are deductible. Just talking to people in his office would make the IRS happier, but wouldn't buy the network any tax advantages. He's probably got a full-time trainer to make sure he doesn't bust out of his suits."
"Where are we on running down the people Castle and I tagged as having access to Bobby's love nest?" Kate asks.
"We've got uniforms on it," Ryan replies.
Esposito's expression suddenly shifts from boredom to rapt attention. "Yo, guys, listen!" He backs up the recording.
Weisberg's angry rasp blares. "You know what? To hell with Bobby Mann. We're losing money on him every damn night. I want him out!"
"He's got five years left on his contract. Our hands are tied," an unidentified voice replies.
"So what if he drops dead?" Weisberg demands. "Seriously, he's got a bad heart. How hard would it be to make him go away? Hell, I've got Mickey Reed telling me every day that he's ready to step in. If we could just get Bobby Mann out the damn door."
"Wow!" Castle exclaims as Esposito halts the playback. "No wonder Bobby thought Mickey was disloyal."
"And no wonder he thought someone wanted him dead," Kate adds. "Someone did."
Howard Weisberg listens impassively as Kate plays back his incriminating words. She stares across the box's table. "Looks like you got your wish, Mr. Weisberg."
A lawyer in a suit almost as well tailored as Weisberg's points a gold-plated pen at her. "Detective, none of the recordings are admissible in court."
"Oh, relax Burt," Weisberg counsels. "I didn't kill anyone, OK? Save it for when I actually do. Detective, I wasn't serious."
"Bobby thought you were," Kate retorts.
"Well then maybe he shouldn't have been bugging my office," Weisberg smirks. "Hell, in private, I issue a hundred death sentences a day on underperforming overpaid jackasses at my network. What I wanted was Mickey Reed pulled into the 11:30 timeslot. But Bobby had an $80 million penalty on his contract."
"Which still had five years left on it," Castle interjects.
"Yeah," Weisberg acknowledges. "So what I did was lean on Bobby for a few months to appeal to a younger audience. But the worst thing I did was threaten to fire him and pay him the $80 mil."
"Where were you between 1:30 and 4:30 am on the night of the murder?" Kate questions.
"You don't have to answer that, Howard," Burt jumps in.
"It's fine, Burt. Chill out. I was at the Essex House Hotel."
"Were you with anyone?" Kate asks.
Weisberg smiles triumphantly. "As a matter of fact, I was. This actress I was screwing wanted a part in one of my sitcoms. I met her after Bobby's show."
"I'm gonna need a name," Kate says.
"Sure, Ellie Munroe."
Ryan slaps Esposito on the back as they watch through the glass. "You dodged a bullet on that one, Bro. Who knows what she could have picked up sleeping with that asshole."
"Yeah," Esposito agrees. "But I'm guessing from the way she kept trying to hit on Castle, Beckett's going to want to talk to her to, um, check out Weisberg's alibi."
Ryan glances back through the glass. "We should make some of Castle's popcorn for that one."
Kate drums her fingers on her desk as a slump-shouldered Ellie Munroe disappears into the elevator. "With Weisberg's alibi confirmed, we're back to square one. We have no idea who the blackmailer is and we have no idea why Mann went to the Comedy Factory and trashed Angel Santana's bike. And we have no idea who the killer is."
"We don't actually know that Bobby trashed the bike," Castle points out. "CSU didn't find anything tying it to him. But let's take a step back. We didn't tag any of the crew as blackmailing Bobby. Remember that Kayla said she stayed late to help Bobby with some bits when they hooked up. When I was there, most of the crew was very efficient about shutting down so they could take off. And contrary to what Bobby's pal Hank said, they weren't in love with Bobby, just their paychecks. They would have cleared out ASAP. And maybe the whole blackmail thing is a red herring. We know that what really upset Bobby was what he heard on the recordings from Weisberg's office. So, the bigger question is not who took the picture, it's who Bobby would have taken cranberry juice from. Aside from Barbara, who we know didn't do it, who would he have shared a drink with and poured his heart out to at that hour?"
Kate cradles her face in her hands. "Castle, speaking of the hour, it's late. Ryan and Esposito are taking off, and I'm kinda tired."
"Of course," Castle agrees. "Let's go home. 'The boys will be back on duty tomorrow,' to coin a phrase. Wait! Remember I was looking at Bobby's idea book and he was playing with ways to change that. He'd crossed out the word, 'boys.' Wow, I think I know what Bobby was doing at the Comedy Factory. I think I know why he thought he was an awful person. And I think I know who killed him."
Hank is wandering the stage at the studio. Except for the papers in his hand, it's almost as if he hadn't left since Kate last saw him. "Mr. McPhee?"
Hank slowly turns toward his visitors. "Ah, I was just going over my notes for the tribute. Thirty-five years of friendship. It's kind of hard to find just the right story to tell. What can I do for you?"
Castle holds out the little notebook he and Kate picked up from the morgue. "We just came to give you this, Bobby's idea book. We thought you might like it."
Hank stares at the memento before extending a hand to take it. "Thanks."
"We did have a question about what he wrote on the last page," Kate says.
Hank squints at Bobby's scratchings. "The boys will be back on duty tomorrow night."
"Actually," Kate points out, "he crossed out boys and wrote gang, posse, and crew. Any idea why?"
"I guess I'll never know," Hank replies.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Castle responds. "The network was pressuring Bobby to make a change. They threatened to cancel him unless he did."
"And the night he was murdered he told Barbara that something awful was going on. Why would he say that?" Kate questions.
"Because of Kayla," Hank insists.
Kate shakes her head. "Not Kayla, Hank, because of you. He knew he had to fire you. He knew he had to find someone younger and hipper if he was going to survive."
"Someone like Angel Santana," Castle picks up. "Weisberg confirmed that she was on the network's shortlist. That's why it wasn't 'boys' anymore, Hank, cause Angel's a girl."
"That's ridiculous!" Hank claims. "Bobby would never fire me."
"Then why did you kill him?" Castle counters.
"I didn't," Hank insists.
"We ran your credit cards for the night Bobby died, Hank," Beckett informs her suspect. "You went to a 24-hour grocery and bought two things, cranberry juice, and balsamic vinegar. Your purchase was timestamped 1:56 am."
"And I'm betting if we test your keys we'll find they scratched 'late-night *****' on Angel Santana's bike," Castle adds.
Hank folds into himself as if suddenly shrinking. "He told me that night before he left the studio how he'd heard Weisberg say they were gonna bury him unless he made a change. Thirty-five years I had his back. He was gonna toss me aside like one of his ex-wives, humiliate me in front of the whole country. I knew it was coming. I saw all the signs, the awkward moments in the hall. I sent him the picture of him and Kayla to remind him of all the secrets I kept. You know what he said? The scandal would only help his ratings."
"You bought your poison and you followed him to the club," Beckett guesses.
"I confronted him when he came out, told him not to throw away everything we'd built. He told me he couldn't save me. Weisberg was going younger with or without him."
"Well if you knew he didn't have a choice, why did you kill him?" Castle questions.
"Because he did have another choice. Go down with the ship! If he'd let them cancel him we would have left together – and he would have been $80 million richer. But he loved his mistress more than anyone, his wives or me."
"His mistress, his audience?" Castle queries.
"Yes, and he'd die before he'd give her up."
"And you made sure he did," Kate says. "How?"
"I told him I understood. We walked over to a bench near the Westside Highway, looked out at the water, and talked about what a great run we had. I offered him a drink. His last one. I was his best friend. He never left me for any of his wives. He shouldn't have left me for his mistress."
As the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee fills the loft's kitchen, Castle holds up the banner headline on The Ledger. "Kate! Look at this!"
"Is it about McPhee being charged with Bobby's murder?" Kate asks, getting the orange juice out of the fridge.
"No. Something a lot bigger. The judge is unsealing the indictment against Bracken."
"That's probably a last step before the trial starts," Kate realizes. "And if our names are in there, we're going to be in the middle of a circus."
"Even if the prosecution went the 'Individual One, Individual Two' route, the press will figure it out soon enough," Castle agrees. "We'll need to be prepared."
"Babe, I've been preparing for this since the day my mother was murdered."
Castle wraps his arms around Kate. "Yeah, I know."
