Shared Obsession Chapter 185
"Beckett, I tracked down the office of the protest group the blood-slinger was probably from," Castle announces.
"How did you do that?" Ryan asks. "All we could find for them is a post office box."
Castle smiles sheepishly. "I texted Alexis. Some of her friends volunteer there. On the next break between classes, she just asked."
Kate puts a hand on Castle's shoulder. "Whatever works, Babe. But we need to know what kind of threats they might have sent to Wilder's company. That will give us something to show a judge if we need a warrant."
"So, Wilder's office?" Castle asks.
"Wilder's office."
"We were looking for another manufacturer to replace the one we had been using," Lisa Jenkins, Wilder's Executive VP explains. "But apparently we weren't doing it fast enough for those protesters."
The bottom lip of Wilder's assistant, Daphne, trembles. "Mr. Wilder wanted to do the right thing. He really did. We just needed more time."
"The paint-throwing incident at Damian's house Thursday night was the final straw," Lisa declares. "He scheduled a press conference for this morning. He hadn't told anyone, but he was planning on announcing a substantial donation to the animal rights movement as a sign of the company's good faith. They got everything they wanted but they killed him anyway."
"I appreciate you giving us the file of threatening letters, Mrs. Jenkins. But to be truthful, we don't know definitively that they're connected to Mr. Wilder's murder," Kate says.
"The incident on Thursday, was that the first time Mr. Wilder was targeted personally?" Castle inquires.
"Usually they just picket outside the building," Daphne replies.
"It got so bad that we actually hired a private security firm to track down some of the threats in that file," Jenkins adds.
"Is there a chance we could take a look at the information they developed?" Castle asks. "It could be helpful."
Lisa nods. "Of course. Daphne can put it together for you."
"We'll also need a copy of Mr. Wilder's datebook for the last couple of weeks," Kate adds.
"Of course," Lisa agrees, "anything you need."
From a seat in the 12th Precinct conference room, Castle taps on the stack of papers in front of him. "According to these notes from the private security firm, most of these folks seem like ordinary, everyday tree-hugging vegetarians. I mean, the worst any of them has done so far is break into a lab and free a bunch of mice." He glances across the table at Kate. "You come up with anything?"
"There are a handful of entries in Wilder's calendar for someone named Natasha. Could be someone he started dating."
Demming appears in the doorway, with a self-satisfied smile. "I ran the workmen who renovated your vic's kitchen, and one of 'em popped." He hands Kate a file. "Meet Jake Cabrese. Two of the apartments he worked on in the past year were later robbed. He was a person of interest in both investigations, but no one could make him for either one of them."
"Either of those involve any violence?" Castle asks.
"No," Demming admits. "No one was home when the apartments were robbed."
Castle rolls his eyes. "Of course not. If this Cabrese was involved, which your people apparently couldn't establish, he would have known the owners' schedules. So how are those thefts anything like a murder with a message in blood?"
"Hey, Castle," Kate intervenes, "we have to check out every possibility. You know that. Tom, can you bring in this Jake Cabrese for questioning?"
"My department is running down his location as we speak. I'll check on it now," he announces, turning to leave.
A grin replaces Castle's scowl as he continues searching through his stack of papers. "Aha! Meet Lance Newman, arrested five times for violent agitation, emphasis on the violent. His favorite tool of protest – fake blood. Last month he painted the word murderer on a congressman's car because he voted against a fishing ban. When the driver tried to stop him, he bashed him in the side of the head with a paint bucket. And when the security company tailed him, one of the places he went was the address Alexis got for us."
"You know," Beckett considers, "I'd like him a lot better if we could find something that would connect him to our vic."
"Like the string of threatening letters he wrote to Wilder?"
Kate looks down at the letter file Lisa Jenkins gave her. " I didn't see a Lance Newman in here."
"That's probably because his letters went to Wilder's home address. He knows where Wilder lived, Beckett. He likes writing messages in blood and he was after Wilder personally. Looks like a connection to me."
"Me too, Babe. Let's go pick him up."
"You've got the wrong guy," Lance Newman protests as two unis seat him in Interrogation.
Castle glances toward Kate. "How many times have we heard that before?"
"Look, Mr. Newman," Kate says. "You sent threatening letters to Damian Wilder's home. Obviously, you knew where to find him."
"And last Thursday someone poured blood all over Wilder's stoop. Kind of your trademark," Castle continues. "It doesn't take much to make the connection."
"Yeah, but I didn't kill him. Look, I told the officers. I went to the movies Sunday night."
"We have someone checking on that," Kate says. "How about Thursday?"
"I-I don't remember."
"Would spending a night in lockup improve your memory?" Kate questions.
Newman slumps in his seat. "All right. Yes, OK. I threw paint on his stoop, which is when I hear him fighting with someone inside, a woman. They were throwing stuff, and I really thought they were going to kill each other."
"Did you see who she was?" Beckett probes.
"No, I just heard them yelling."
"And what exactly did you hear?" Kate presses.
"She said something about being humiliated and he said something about a gun."
"A gun?" Castle repeats skeptically.
"You put a gun to my head, I think it was."
"She's putting a gun to his head on Thursday and he's killed on Sunday? How does that work?" Castle questions. "Maybe …."
Castle stops short as Ryan comes in and whispers to Beckett.
"Well Mr. Newman, good thing you used an automated ticket booth at the movies on Sunday night. Your alibi checked out," Kate informs the former suspect.
"Really?" Castle asks.
"Really?" Newman echoes.
"Really," Kate confirms.
"OK, thanks," Kate says and hangs up her landline.
Castle's eyebrows ripple as he runs his finger over a line on a printout. "Beckett, according to his calendar, Wilder had dinner with this Natasha person on Thursday night. She could have been the one Newman heard him fighting with."
Kate leans over to look. "Yeah, that checks. That was Daphne on the phone. She said Wilder and Natasha Piper had been dating recently."
"Trust the assistant to have the scoop," Castle says. "Wait, I think that's the model from the ads I saw for Wilder's shaving cream. No competition to the still iconic 'Take it off' 1967 campaign with Gunilla Knutson, but not bad."
"Castle, you weren't even born in 1967."
"Ah, but on YouTube, great art lives forever. And believe me, those ads were artful. You should check them out sometime. But anyway, it looks like we're going to cherchez la femme."
"Yeah, according to Daphne, Natasha was a real piece of work. She tore up the set at a photo shoot a couple of weeks ago because they had the wrong bottled water."
"Then it seems like a very good bet that she was the one fighting with Wilder Thursday night," Castle opines.
"Yeah. Could be she went back on Sunday night to get in the last word." Kate checks her father's watch. "But it's late, and I doubt she's going anywhere. I'll pick her up in the morning."
"How about Demming's guy, Cabrese?"
"Oh, Demming sent me a text. He and his guys found Cabrese with a garage full of stolen power tools, But Sunday night he was watching his daughter sing in a cantata at church. He has at least 20 witnesses including the priest."
"And the robbery hotshot was too redfaced to tell you in person. So, want to curl up for the evening?" Castle offers.
"Uh-huh, in front of Temptation Lane. I haven't had a chance to catch an episode since before the trial. Maybe the writers have come up with new forms of temptation."
Castle's grin returns at full wattage. "I'll make the popcorn."