Shared Obsession Chapter 97

Triumph suddenly brightens Kate's features as she regards her computer screen. "We've got a hit. Hal Ross, multiple assault charges and domestic violence incidents over the past ten years."

Castle's fingers tighten into a fist. "He's a wife beater?"

"Apparently the domestic violence went both ways. She came at him with a cleaver, which is weird since he's a butcher. Anyway, the court assigned the Rosses to mandatory couples counseling with Ashley Cosway. They were at her office at two on Friday."

Kate pulls into the small parking area at Sir Chops A Lot. Castle sniffs as Kate opens the door. "I don't like this place. You know that odor you get when blood seeps into the cracks in a cutting board and you have to bleach it to get it clean? This whole place smells like that."

"Maybe he cleans up before he closes at night," Kate suggests. "But it's not animal blood we're worried about. It's Ashley Cosway's."

Hal Ross is hacking ribs apart with an oversized cleaver when Kate and Castle approach. Kate holds up her badge. "Mr. Ross?"

Ross looks up, his cleaver in his hand. "What's up? My garbage on the sidewalk again?" He hacks off more ribs.

Kate points at the cleaver. "Would you mind putting that down?"

Ross brings the cleaver down, leaving it stuck in the meat. Kate looks around at other meat cutters serving customers. "Can we step outside for a few moments?"

'Yeah, sure." With Castle behind him, Ross follows Kate to the sidewalk.

"Are you familiar with Ashley Cosway?" Kate asks.

"Oh, the doc? Sure. Why? She late on her report on me or something?"

"She was murdered last night," Castle informs the now weaponless suspect.

Ross's jaw drops like the blade of his cleaver. "What? The doc's dead?"

"Can you confirm your whereabouts between 7:30 and 9:00 last night?" Kate asks.

"Yeah, sure. I was here. We're open until 10 every night."

"Can anyone corroborate that?" Kate asks.

"Yeah, my employees."

"Pretty convenient that your alibis are on your payroll," Castle remarks.

As Ross's brows descend, the meat-cutting muscles in his arms flex. "Well, my customers aren't. Most of them pay by credit cards and I can give you a list."

"I'd appreciate that Mr. Ross," Kate says. "But were you aware that Dr. Cosway filed a complaint that you were watching her?"

Ross's voice rises with disbelief. "The doc thought I was watching her? No, I liked her. As court-appointed shrinks go, she was OK. I was watching my wife. I know how she is. She'd take every chance to weasel her way in and BS the doc with her side of the story. She did that with another court-appointed counselor – almost landed me in prison. But Doc was playing it straight and only saw us together. Like I said, she was all right."

"But you were there last Friday?" Castle presses.

"We have reason to believe that something bad happened last Friday," Kate adds.

"Something happened all right," Ross agrees, "but it wasn't in my session. You want to talk to somebody, try the appointment before mine."

"Why is that, Mr. Ross?" Kate asks.

"Judi, that's my wife, and I were in the little waiting room before our session. We hear all this yelling."

"About what?" Kate queries.

"I don't know, but this guy was cursing Doc Cosway out big-time. It sounded kind of scary and I was tempted to go in there, but then I heard him leave. There's another door out of the doc's office so the patients don't run into each other. Then Doc came out and got us. I could see she was shook up, but we had our session anyway."

"Can your wife confirm all this?" Kate asks.

"Yeah, sure. She works at Dorfman's just down the block. You can go talk to her. But if that guy killed the doc, you should get him off the street."

"If he did, Mr. Ross," Kate replies. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Well," Kate says as she and Castle leave Dorfman's Bargain Emporium, "Judi Ross's story matches her husband's enough to give us probable cause for a warrant to check Ashley Cosway's appointment book for our mystery patient."

"Markway?" Castle inquires.

"Mm-hmm. He's on call right now for this kind of thing."

Castle checks his watch. "Then he may be taking calls from the links. He's been trying to get his rounds in before it gets too cold."

"As long as he's as willing to swing a pen as he is a club."

Kate runs her finger down the Friday listings in Ashley Cosway's appointment book. "Evan Hinkle. He had the appointment before the Rosses."

"Usually, you'd send the boys to go pick up a suspect like him. But they're hunting down gang members they think took out their vic. Are we going to get him?"

"No, Montgomery said I could use Karpowski, and she's got a talent for bringing in resistant suspects. Might as well take the captain up on his offer."

When Kate and Castle return to the 12th Precinct, they find a burly man in his thirties, being led into the main interrogation room, by Ryan and Esposito. "Hey, guys," Castle calls, "I thought you were going after gang members, like teenagers."

"They alibied out," Ryan explains.

"So who's this?" Castle asks.

"A mugger who was working in the same area the night our vic was killed," Ryan replies.

"He was picked up with a 45, same round found in our vic." Esposito continues, his chest puffing out beneath his tight-fitting polo shirt. "Just waiting on ballistics to get this case tied up, and get in some extra ZZs while you two are still running around out there."

"We'll see about that," Castle replies, resisting the sudden drowsiness that manifests at Esposito's mention of sleep. "Where's this guy's lawyer?"

"He hasn't asked for one," Ryan admits.

"Not the behavior of a guilty man," Castle points out.

"Or maybe he's just stupid," Esposito retorts.

Karpowski leads in two uniformed officers flanking Evan Hinkle. She gazes into the occupied box. "Where do you want this one, Beckett?"

Kate points down the hall. "We'll have to use number two."

"I hope that designation isn't an omen of things to come," Castle says and follows Kate. While she takes the only chair opposite the suspect, he leans against a wall.

"For the record, Mr. Hinkle," Kate says, "You're confirming that you were Dr. Cosway's one pm appointment on Friday."

The suspect chews on a fingernail that's already down to the nub. "I knew this would happen. I knew it. First time I met her I knew she'd leave me. Why does this always happen? Why do people keep leaving me?"

"She didn't leave you, Mr. Hinkle," Kate responds. "She was murdered."

"Yeah, just like my first wife," Hinkle declares.

Castle lunges away from the wall. "Your first wife was murdered?"

"That's right. I smothered her to death. That's what she told me. I murdered her with love. That's why she left."

Kate blows out a breath. "Just tell us about your last appointment with Dr. Cosway."

"We were just starting to make progress. You know the irony here? Her death is the moment of my greatest crisis and I don't have her to lean on."

"What was all the screaming about at your appointment last Friday?" Kate questions.

"Screaming? Last Friday? I didn't see her last Friday," Hinkle protests.

"You were in her book," Castle argues.

"I canceled an hour before. She must not have had a chance to change it," Hinkle asserts.

"You canceled?" Beckett echoes.

"Yes, yes. I was having chest pains. I went to the E.R. at St. Vincent's. $15,000 later it turns out I was just having an anxiety attack about Mother." He starts breathing deeply. "I can show you the bill."

Kate pushes out of her chair. "Thank you. I think we're done here."

"At least Dr. Cosway didn't charge me for the canceled appointment," Evan says.

"Why was that?" Castle asks.

"She said she was going to use the time to have lunch with her husband."

Kate's eyes lock with Castle's before she turns back to the suspect. "Thank you, Mr. Hinkle."

Castle stares after the departing Hinkle. "Looks like we're back to the ever-popular – the spouse did it."

A/N Guest, "IS" stands for 'intermediate school."