Shared Obsession Chapter 162

The doorman let Bobby up to Mickey Reed's flat at 1:45 am," Ryan reports. "The neighbors complained of a loud argument. Bobby left a little after two."

"So Reed lied to us," Kate realizes. "He saw Bobby right in the middle of our kill zone."

"You think he was a good host and offered Bobby a drink? Maybe a little cranberry juice?" Castle wonders.

Mickey Reed scowls as he gazes at Bobby Mann's desk and couch. "This set looks like an old age home. Everything needs to be updated. No purple, no suede, no faux finish." He shoves Bobby's vintage coffee mug at Janine Marks. "And get rid of this thing."

"Measuring the drapes already, Mr. Reed?" Kate asks, climbing the steps to the stage.

"Like it or not, Detective, the network wants me to take over Bobby's timeslot, after the tribute show," Mickey says. "I know it seems callous, but it's what Bobby would have wanted."

"Even over his dead body?" Castle questions.

Mickey's brows descend toward the bridge of his nose. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you lie to us about seeing Mann the other night?" Kate interjects.

"Look, I'm sorry," Mickey claims, "but I didn't want it getting out."

"So the two of you were fighting," Castle states flatly.

"It's hard enough filling the man's shoes around here," Mickey complains. "I don't need the tabloids writing about us getting into it the night he died. So I lied. So what?"

"You lied to a cop," Kate retorts.

"Let's be realistic," Mickey insists. "The guy died from a heart attack, right?" Beckett and Castle exchange looks. "What?"

Kate holds him in her stare. "It was a heart attack that was a result of a toxic substance in his system, a substance he ingested somewhere around the time you saw him."

Incredulity flashes in Mickey's eyes. "So you guys are saying I killed Bobby? Why?"

"Well, it's no secret you were supposed to get his 11:30 time slot, but Bobby extended his contract. Maybe you couldn't wait," Castle replies.

Mickey snorts, shaking his head. "You sound as demented as Bobby."

"What do you mean?" Kate questions.

"Last time I saw him we're the best of pals, right? The other night he comes over, ranting and raving about what a disloyal punk I've been."

"Why?" Kate asks.

"Man, I don't know. All he kept saying was he knew things. And I'm like, Bobby, what are you talking about? He storms out saying I knew what I'd done."

Kate puts down the receiver of her desk phone. "CSU's at Mickey's apartment running a sweep for cranberry juice and balsamic."

"Killing the king of late night to take his throne, that's very Richard the III," Castle muses. "It appeals to the writer in me." He holds up a fresh cruller wrapped in a napkin. "You want a bite of this?"

Kate's about to take a nibble when a man with a $10,000 suit and an air of angry self-importance storms out of Montgomery's office. "Hell, I'll sic God on you." He spears Castle with a furious glare. "And you! I don't ever want to see you on my network again. You're banned!" He shifts his gaze to Kate. "And you! I don't know you. You're all a bunch of nobodies. I could buy this precinct." He strides toward the elevator stabbing the call button just as the doors open.

"Howard Weisberg, president of the network," Montgomery explains as the doors close behind the visitor's back. "He just found out about the search warrant for Mickey Reed. And he also found out that we think Bobby Mann was murdered."

"How?" Kate wonders. "From Mickey Reed?"

"Much worse," Montgomery says. "Breaking news on another network. The guy got scooped on his own star's murder. Makes him look like an ass."

"Not a difficult feat." Castle comments.

Kate sighs. "So much for keeping the press out."

"You two better be right about this," Montgomery warns.

Castle's cell dings a text, and he giggles at the screen.

"You want to share the joke?" Kate asks. "I could use a laugh right now."

"It's Alexis. She just saw a loon feeding. She's been observing a group of them."

"Yeah, feels like we have too."

"You hang around backstage at TV studios enough, you get used to it," Castle says. He offers the cruller to Kate again. "Sure you don't want some of this? Might make you feel better."

"I'll feel better when we nail Bobby's killer."

"Well, this isn't going to help," Ryan says, standing up by his desk. "Mann's Bugatti is still in the garage. They won't let us touch it without a warrant."

"Two million dollar car. Apparently, it's worth more than their insurance," Esposito explains.

"You're sure they aren't joyriding?" Castle asks. "Even in New York, how many times would a guy get to drive a Bugatti?"

"Check with the judge," Kate instructs.

"Mm-hmm," Ryan acknowledges.

"OK," Esposito agrees.

Castle goes over to the murder board. "If Mann's car is still in the garage, where did he go after Reed's place?"

Kate studies the marks on the kill zone. "Well, it couldn't have been far. He wouldn't have had time. Hey Ryan, did Mickey's doorman say in what direction Bobby was headed when he left?"

"Um," Ryan puts a finger in the air as if picturing the witness pointing.

"South," Esposito inserts.

"South," Beckett repeats, fingering the map clipped to the board.

"South on Broadway from 57th," Castle says, "that's the theater district."

"Not much open at 2:00 am," Kate figures.

"For the theater crowd? They'd still be keyed up after a performance, either seeing one or giving one," Castle offers. "Sometimes it would take Mother and her fellow thespians hours to come down to a state where they could get some sleep. So there are diners, clubs, and restaurants eager to serve, within easy walking distance."

"Well, other than the spiked cranberry juice and the gum, we know Bobby didn't have anything, so a restaurant or diner is probably out. That would leave a club," Kate assumes.

"Yeah," Castle agrees. "He could pass on the drinks and just pay the cover charge. Wait! The paper he wrapped his gum in had part of a word or a name – tory. We need a club with that in its name." He puts down the cruller and grabs his phone from his jacket pocket. "Easy search, clubs with that character string in the theater district."

"Factory!" Kate exclaims. "The Comic Factory is only a couple of blocks from Reed's place. Bobby was a comedian, that's where he would have gone."

Castle checks his listings. "Score one for Detective Beckett! The Comedy Factory at 55th and Broadway is top of the hit parade. He must have put his gum in one of their flyers."

"But we know from the forensics that he didn't have either the cranberry or the balsamic before he spit it out. So he was poisoned either at the club or after he was there," Kate realizes. "Which means we were spinning our wheels, and so is CSU. Mickey Reed couldn't have done it."

"But someone at the club could have," Castle points out. "Our wheels are spinning in the right direction. So who would have been at that club that Bobby wanted to see?"

"And wanted him dead. Hey guys," Kate calls to Ryan and Esposito, "How do you feel about going to see a little comedy?"

"Better than watching that jerk from the network think he could intimidate Montgomery and a bullpen full of cops?" Ryan asks.

Kate shrugs. "We'll see."