Shared Obsession Chapter 53

Castle starts for the door of Mitchell's cell, but turns back. "Listen, if I'm going to put you in the book, I need to contrast you with that dirtbag shot caller. Can you describe him?"

"Sure, he wasn't exactly a forgettable presence."

"Start with the hair," Castle instructs, "that always helps a reader to visualize a character. We can go from there."

"Did you get all that?" Castle asks, half-running into the conference room where Kate, Esposito, and Ryan have been listening to the audio feed from Mitchell's cell. "Was it enough?"

A sketch artist sits with them, finishing up a drawing. "Better than I get from a lot of witnesses." He turns his pad so everyone can see it. "You should be able to show this around."

Ryan gazes appreciatively at the rendering. "Who would have thought a guy like Mitchell would be so detail oriented?"

"Bro, he needs to remember details to pull off his jobs," Esposito retorts.

"We need to show it to Joanne Delgado," Kate decides. "Maybe she spotted him casing her mother's apartment."

On her white-faced return to the interview lounge, Joanne Delgado stares at the sketch Kate hands her. "This is the man who killed my mother?"

"We think so," Kate responds. "We believe he may have had more than a passing relationship with her. But he could be anyone, a waiter, dog-walker, doorman, personal trainer."

Joanne smiles in spite of herself. "The only personal trainer my mother would have had would have been a pastry chef. She even bought some personal lessons from Duff Goldman once. The money went to a charity he supports. And I've never seen this guy in any of those other jobs. I'm sorry. I want to be more help."

"You are helping," Kate assures her. "At least we can eliminate some possibilities."

"You said your mother bought the lessons from Goldman for charity. Do you remember how, or which one?" Castle queries.

"No. Mom never told me. She went to a lot of charity and non-profit events. She loved them. She felt she could do something worthwhile. Actually, those events were the only place she'd wear the jewelry that was in the safe. Otherwise, she said it got in her way, especially when she was in the kitchen."

"Do you know which events she attended?" Kate asks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know enough about them to keep track. In my PR job, I have to do industrial galas – product releases, IPOs, that kind of thing. It's a different circle than my mother's was. But maybe one of the other victims will recognize him."

"I have guys checking that out right now," Kate declares.

Kate's cell buzzes as she returns to her desk. "Bad news, Beckett. None of the other victims recognizes the guy in the sketch. The invaders kept their masks on the entire time, and they don't remember seeing him anywhere else."

"Damn! All right, Esposito. Thanks."

"That sketch doesn't look like someone who would toady to the rich and famous, Beckett. And Mitchell did say the guy was dark," Castle reminds her. "Shouldn't the financials be in soon? At least we can check for any charities or events the victims all have in common."

"Normally, we'd have had them long before this. But Montgomery told me there's a problem, something about trusts, that created extra layers of paperwork." A pen jumps as her fist impacts the surface of her desk. "I can't just sit here. My requalification is coming up soon. I'm going down to the firing range."

Castle's brows leap upwards. "With the shot you made to take down Baylor, you need requalification?"

"Every cop has to, Castle, twice a year."

"I bet you haven't failed yet."

"No, and I don't intend to start now."

"I haven't been to a range in a while myself. Want some company?"

"Castle, why would you go to a range?"

"At the beginning, because I was hanging with Mother. She had to learn gun skills for some of her roles. But when I started writing 'In a Hail of Bullets,' I went to make sure I knew what I was writing about."

"Do you have a gun?"

"Beckett, you know the statistics as well as I do, probably better. Having a gun in the home increases the chances of someone being shot more than fourfold. I'd never take a risk like that with my daughter or my mother living in the loft. And if I get a yen to play with a weapon now and then, there's always Laser Tag. Still, I wouldn't mind shooting off some frustration either. It's been a long time since I had any formal training. Maybe you can give me some pointers."

"OK, Castle, you're on."

Firmly holding her weapon, Kate empties her clip at a paper silhouette. Pressing a button, she brings the target forward on a track.

Castle notes a tight grouping of bullet holes in the figure's head. "Aren't you supposed to aim for the center of mass?"

"In a real engagement, yes, providing your target isn't wearing a vest. I have a feeling our guy might be smart enough to do just that. Besides, imagining blowing his brains out is much more satisfying."

And a socially acceptable outlet for your hostility," Castle adds.

"Ready to try?" Kate inquires.

"Yeah, sure."

"I can see it has been a while Castle, and this isn't Laser Tag. Real guns have a kick." Kate puts her hands on Castle's arms careful of his brace. "All right. Square off to the target. Feet shoulder width apart." She steps back. "OK, you're ready.

Castle fires off his rounds. "Ooh, that wasn't the center of mass either."

Kate retrieves the target, showing every shot centered in the crotch. "An acceptable outlet for your hostility, Castle?"

"It's a start, but wait till you see what I write about those murderous bastards. And Kate, speaking of the family jewels, the invasion crew must have some way to fence them, or stealing them would be useless. They could be out there, somewhere. Maybe we could trace them back to the seller."

"Castle, I could consult with robbery, but they don't usually cope with tracing a haul in the price range Ryan and Esposito found when they checked with the insurers. Even a smash-and-grab from a jewelry store wouldn't touch it. I wouldn't know where to start."

"I have an acquaintance who might know," Castle considers.

"The guy you were talking to Evan Mitchell about? I thought you made him up."

"He's real enough. And we had a little tiff back when I wrote the book, but I imagine he's cooled down by now. We could go see him. At least it would be something to do until the financials blast through the paperwork wall."

"All right, Castle. Right now, I'll try anything."

"We'll need the insurance photos of the stolen jewelry."

"No problem."

As Castle and Kate enter an elegant garret, a fist shoots out, connecting with Castle's jaw. Kate lunges at the source of the punch, slams him against a wall, and reaches for her cuffs.

Castle winces as he rubs his cheek. "Beckett, you don't have to do that. I have a feeling I deserved it. Hello, Powell."

"Hello, Rick," Kate's prisoner replies as she slowly loosens her hold. "I've been waiting a long time for that, ever since your too-close description of me in the acknowledgments for your book. I've been laying low ever since."

Rick waves at the clippings up on a bulletin board. "Obviously, low but not out. These are all about the recent string of home invasion robberies."

"Disgusting, really. I hope the NYPD catches them. The sooner the better. I never had the need for that kind of violence. And murder is inexcusable. Slipping in and out without leaving a trace is the true art. And my skills were beginning to fade. Perhaps you provided me the impetus to retire at an opportune time."

"You were the true artist. And maybe you're still close enough to the game to help," Castle suggests.

"Smooth as ever, Rick, except that you've neglected to introduce me to your charming defender."

"I'm Detective Kate Beckett," Kate announces.

"Well, Detective Beckett, you can call me Powell." He sweeps his hand toward an antique sideboard holding a bottle and crystal glasses. "Can I offer you some wine?"

"I'm on duty, Mr. Powell."

"Just Powell."

"I'm on duty, Powell. But you can offer me some information. Castle, show him the pictures."

Powel pages through photographs of stolen jewelry. "So very lovely."

Kate nods. "I was wondering if anyone has tried to fence them."

"I've heard nary a whisper of anything in this range."

"Anything special about any of them, or the MO of the thieves?" Kate asks.

"If you mean are there legends or curses associated with any of these pieces, no. As to the MO, I'd have to see the scene of the crime to be sure."

"Beckett, can we do that?" Castle queries hopefully.

Kate sighs, wishing she could accept the wine. "At this point, I don't see how it could hurt."

Castle gingerly strokes his jaw. "Any more, anyway."