Shared Obsession Chapter 20

Castle grins as Kate digs into raspberry-swirled mocha ice cream. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"It's ice cream, Castle. If it wasn't cool, it would be soup."

"True enough," Castle admits. "But in our fascination with the production of a frozen treat, we never discussed a question still remaining about Brandon's murder of Donny Kendall."

"We know he did it to cover up slipping a bullet into Spenser's gun so Max would shoot Donny. What's left?" Kate asks.

"The boat. And I've been thinking about it. You remember the posters up at Redding about the upcoming spring dance?"

"I thought they were overdone. Not exactly magic marker on oaktag. It looked like they were professionally printed."

"They probably were. You know the kind of cash those kids carry around. The promotion committee was probably willing to put out what was essentially pocket change to avoid having to do the work themselves. But the quality of the signs wasn't my point. The theme was."

"Exploration," Kate recalls.

"Including the Vikings, who invaded their victims' lands and seized whatever they wanted. The kids must have been studying them. And that's just the kind of attitude Brandon would have loved. Vikings launched their dead in boats along with a sacrificial woman, some booze, and a good horse. But Brandon felt Donny deserved none of that, particularly not the woman. Sticking Donny in the tiny boat with nothing, was the ultimate act to demean him. But it backfired on Brandon when the location of the body made no sense, and it was clear the body was dragged. If Brandon had left Donny where he fell off that bench, the drug dealer story would have made a lot more sense. Brandon's pure evil was his undoing. Beckett, how many murderers have you nailed? Do you see that kind of maliciousness a lot?"

"Not really," Beckett considers. "As scumbags go, Brandon is pretty close to the top of the heap."

"Except maybe for whoever killed your mother and my aunt. Kate, do you think you could get the case files?"

"They're in the archives. I'd have to have a reason to sign them out. That would mean a new lead."

"Would new analytical techniques count as a new lead? A lot has happened since they died. And I have a consultant that I use for my books, Dr. Clark Murray. He's supposed to be the best forensic pathologist in the state, maybe the country."

"Uh-huh. I remember him in the acknowledgments for Storm Cloud."

"Right, he figured out what would happen to a victim's head in a microwave oven."

"I don't remember a victim's head in a microwave oven in that book."

"Because Murray told me to ditch the idea and go for something more subtle, the implantation of the radioactive seeds."

"It was a good call."

"Yes, it was. But Mother walked in on one of our discussions. Ever since then, she's referred to him as Dr. Death. He's actually a very nice guy – and an operatic tenor. But his singing voice is irrelevant to our investigations. What is relevant is that he uses computerized techniques to extrapolate the shape of a weapon from the contours of a wound, and produce a model. The ME who handled my Aunt Celia's case was never able to identify exactly what the weapon was."

"The ME on my mother's case couldn't either," Kate shares.

"So, there we go. It would seem to me that generating that kind of evidence would be enough justification for pulling those files."

"We'd have to get Montgomery to sign off on it," Kate cautions.

Castle winks. "Hey, we just closed two murders. What better time to ask him?"

Settling in at the beginning of her shift, Kate looks up as Castle approaches her desk. "Did you finally reach Dr. Murray?"

"I did. He was at an opera festival in the Middle East. Some of the performances were in Beirut, and his cell wasn't set up to receive there. He wanted to immerse himself in the music anyway, so he didn't turn the thing on again until his plane landed at Kennedy. Still, he said to send him copies of the original ME reports, and he'd see what he could do. But he also said it might take a while. The equipment he uses to produce the models of the weapon builds them layer by layer according to the measurements of the wound. So, tell me you've got a case to distract us in the meantime."

"Not yet," Kate admits. "I'm just doing paperwork. If you want to wait around, you might as well get yourself some coffee."

"Are you referring to the source of the foul stench emanating from the break room?"

"Castle, with the budget cuts, we're lucky to have that."

Holding a Styrofoam cup that he knows Alexis would despise regardless of its contents, Castle carefully takes his seat at Kate's desk. He takes a cautious sip. "This is possibly the worst coffee I've ever tasted. It's like a monkey peed in battery acid. Want some?"

"No thanks," Kate demurs. "I stopped at Java Hut to get my morning shot of caffeine on my way in."

Castle takes another tiny sip. "I can taste why. That's something I'll have to find time to address. But my schedule's a little tight right now."

"That's right, you have a book coming out today, don't you?"

"It's the official release. The press and special guests got advance copies at my book party, but it hits the stores today. My publisher wants me to do a reading tonight. She can get pretty mean if she doesn't get what she wants."

"Isn't she your ex-wife?"

"Right, number two. That's how she learned to be mean. Her lawyer tutored her before she went to court over alimony."

"So you're paying alimony to two ex-wives? Do you have any more?"

"Uh-uh. Just Alexis' mother and my publisher. I was foolish enough to think her interest in my work could be a decent basis for a relationship. But she never could understand what drives me."

"Celia's murder."

"Uh-huh, like your mother's murder drives you. Gina and I just didn't have a meeting of the minds about that or much of anything else."

"Which pissed her off?"

"Big time. I know the book events she pushes me to attend are part of the business, but I think she arranges some of them to get back at me. And she recruits Alexis to ride herd on me."

"Intruding on your relationship with your daughter, which must really piss you off."

"It does," Castle confides. "There was this time at Christmas…."

"Yo, Beckett!" Esposito yells across the room. "We've got a body."

Kate springs from her chair. "Let's go! Coming, Castle?"

"Dead guy rolled up in a rug," Esposito informs the writer.

Castle trots to catch up to Kate. "Right behind you."

"Set it up," Esposito instructs a uniformed officer.

"Two witnesses," the uni explains, "Jack Lifford and Hall Mars. They were moving into a new apartment, saw the rug in a dumpster, and thought it was their lucky day. But when they unrolled it, they found the body."

Lanie points to a small red stain on the victim's shirt. "Thirty-eight caliber at close range. It killed him instantly."

"So the heart stops pumping, minimizing the amount of blood loss?" Castle inquires.

"Got it in one, Castle."

"Did you get an ID?" Kate asks.

"Pockets were empty, no wallet, no keys, no jewelry," Lanie reports.

"Robbery gone wrong?" Ryan suggests, returning from taking a statement.

"Why would a robber wrap him up and throw him away?" Castle asks. "Spending that kind of time with a dead body is like announcing 'Catch me!'"

"Someone, a very angry someone, knew this guy well enough to walk up and shoot him and then try to make it look like a robbery," Kate offers. "Let's get CSU in here for blood, fibers the works. Maybe they can find something that identifies this guy."

"No need to bother them for an ID. I know who he is," Castle announces. "I saw his face on the side of a bus this morning. It's Councilman Jeff Horn. He is, or was, running for re-election."