Historical parallels are great, of course, but for half an hour (willingly or unwillingly) Beckett plunged into the unique world of writer's dreams. And all this time Castle's stay in the interrogation room as if it meant nothing, and Kate, mechanically biting her lip, stared at one point, for some reason feeling herself not in the usual working atmosphere of the station, but at Castle's latest autograph session. Where, fortunately, there was no need to smile naively to sign another book, and where Castle's style of narration looked not pathos, but more familiar, worldly: figuratively and in detail, helping himself with hand gestures and relying on historical moments unknown to her, Castle easily and enthusiastically presented his version of events, and Kate, shaking her head in time with his words without objection, listened, listened and listened. True, in front of her eyes involuntarily formed a slightly different picture, previously presented by tabloids or friends, but Beckett is not the man to believe the writer one hundred percent. Castle's unblemished, scandalous reputation unwittingly played against him, and only when she had the results of the examination in her hands, that's when she might be less skeptical of his words...
There was a soft knock at the window, and, cutting himself short, Castle stood with his hands spread out in front of him. And a whole gamut of lively, inimitable feelings reflected on a slightly tanned writer's face, and, going out, Kate caught the edge of her eye and Castle's sudden tension, and his nervous concern ...
Esposito was waiting for Kate outside the door, holding a pile of papers in his hand.
- What, Espo? - аnd Kate held out her hand for them. - Something don't add up?
- I don't know if this will make you sad or happy, - and Javier folded his arms across his chest, - but there's a reason Mr. Castle insisted on the blood test: he was definitely poisoned, and if it hadn't been for the alcohol he'd taken the previous afternoon, which worked as an antidote, the guy wouldn't have woken up soon. At best, he would have lain down until the evening, if not longer.
- What kind of substance, - Kate looked up at her partner for a moment, - was used in the poisoning?
- A complex derivative of barbiturates, professionally manufactured by a certified chemist or pharmacist. Because it's virtually unheard of in its pure form. The report's somewhere near the end.
- Time of death?
- Roughly consistent with Mr. Castle's arrival at the crime scene.
- An argument not in his favor, of course, - Beckett flipped methodically through the columns of data page by page. - What was the point of leaving Castle unconscious until tonight? With his fingers imprinted on the knife handle, the primary task of ironcladly tying Castle to the corpse was accomplished. The perpetrator didn't attack the suspect in the open, he preferred to go undercover. After all, judging by the complexion, it is unlikely that our Mr. writer would allow without resistance to take his prints. Poisoning is a kind of guarantee against failure.
- I'm leaning towards that, too, because there's one more thing: Lainie found out that the guy wasn't stabbed.
- He wasn't?! - perplexed, Kate raised her eyebrows. - How could that have happened?
- Briskin had a long-standing vascular problem. Besides, he wore a silver incense pinned to the lining of his clothes, near his heart. And the knife strike didn't penetrate it all the way through, but it almost missed his vital organs. It wouldn't have saved the victim, though.
- И? - Beckett was already reading the next act.
- Briskin was beaten shortly before the murder, trying not to leave visible marks, but there are microscopic subcutaneous hematomas. And it would be better if the criminals had not done it - at the blow, apparently, burst a blood vessel, and when the killer put a knife in Castle's hand, the soul of the unfortunate Tom almost already flew away. Such a coincidence.
- Hnm, - Kate bit her lip meaningfully, realizing that the situation really wasn't as obvious as it seemed at first. - Does the captain know yet?
- Yes, - Espo clenched his fist to his chest and tapped it lightly, - and he thinks that our detective guy deserves leniency.
- ... but not his ego, - and Beckett glanced sternly through the glass.
She entered the interrogation room, confident and unhurried, not to get the suspect's hopes up, not out of malice, but because she was used to thoroughness in everything. It wasn't that Castle's community bored Kate, it was just that she couldn't stand that kind of man, the kind of man who pretended to be a know-nothing and flaunted his nature. And braggarts and blabbermouths, too, by the way...
- The results of the examinations say that part of suspicion from you is removed, - Beckett nonchalantly sat down on the place, and on her face it was impossible to read anything. - Do you understand, Mr. Castle?
- The part? Did I do something else wrong? - and he pecked himself on the lips. - Otherwise, you can't keep a pretty boy like me locked up.
- Time will tell, Mr. Castle, because a lot of people go through the same thing. And why should you be the exception? - and put the forensic reports in front of him. - We're gonna have to double-check everything, but in the meantime, you can take a look... if you can figure it out, of course.
And she wagged her eyebrow characteristically.
There was dead silence, resisted by the rustle of pages: so meticulously Castle read out each letter, that somewhere in the depths of Beckett's soul even doubted her initial assessment of this type. But for a cop it's normal - to look at life through the prism of doubt, which is so multifaceted, that the obvious, seemingly obvious things contain a lot of non-obvious ...
- Huh, - Castle suddenly grinned inexpressibly, and the tension immediately fell from his shoulders. - You got to be kidding me. It's like some kind of play!
He looked questioningly into her face and noticed the unkind, spiky look in her eyes.
- We're not in kindergarten, Mr. Castle! - that comparison felt like an insult. - And we're trying to work in our own way! It's complicated and time-consuming, but there's only one possible outcome: the truth! And if for you, Mr. Castle, it is possible that all means are good to achieve the goal, then the police honors only the norms of the laws and the cops who are guided by them!
Her face even flushed a little, and to avoid embarrassment, Beckett would have pushed Castle out of the station herself. But that would have looked too impulsive and not her style, and so Kate took a breath as discreetly as possible.
Castle sighed deeply, too: realizing he'd overdone it, he stopped smiling, and a deep, uneven crease creased his forehead.
- So I can go? - he shyly looked away, like a delinquent schoolboy.
- Quite all right, I'm not keeping you.
- What about my case? And my honorable name? - Castle sniffed his nose in a very immature way, and his right index finger hesitantly touched his lips. - As a concerned person and just a citizen, as a writer with vast detective experience, I would very, very much like to help you! Because I'm not used to living in ignorance! This case concerns me too.!
- We'll question you again when we have to. And I'm not going to repeat myself, Mr. Castle, - Beckett sarcastically grinned, collecting documents in a folder, - the police do not eat their bread for nothing and do not need the services of outsiders with overripe ego, which, fortunately, I know how to ignore ...
Rick left the station with his laptop under his arm, both elated and annoyed at the same time: excited by the prospects of a possible partnership, but not pleased by Detective Beckett's skeptical reaction to his possible interference in her investigation. True, she doesn't know him at all, and if we put aside all the tinsel and misconceptions about his abilities, a close relationship with the cops, and this self-assured lady in particular, should lead to the desired result. Which there are many ways to achieve that are beyond the reach of a proper detective like Catherine Beckett. Now he will return to the loft, think over the situation properly, and then with a bubble bath, fragrant (if his personal doctor allows!) wine and a series of animated pictures from the secret, home collection cardinally rest. But here's another thing...
With a sly smirk, Castle patted himself on the breast pocket of his blazer: how soon Detective Beckett will realize that her folder is missing pictures? And when she did, she'd probably break into his loft, and he'd be there waiting for her, ready to talk and continue to cooperate. And now there would be important calls to make and important calls to alert her mom and Alexis...
Beckett caught up rather quickly, and barely changed into a robe Castle took a sip of his favorite wine in the dining room, as the loft door rang with intrusive restless calls. And they were repeated almost without pause, and the visitors clearly had no intention of backing down. And when Castle, with an innocent grin, let the guests in, he was immediately thrown to the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back. And while Detective Beckett menacingly towered over him, mercilessly reprimanding and threatening the most terrible punishments, not too much that and worried for himself Castle frankly admired the high heels of her shiny polished shoes (and even that a little higher). And it would be very interesting to look at these graceful feet, knocking off without regret other men's "charms" or kicking out an old doorjamb...
When he was mercilessly dragged to the station, his lawyer was already on duty there, tired and disgruntled. Led down the corridor to the previously familiar room Castle nodded to him, wondering when the "heavy artillery" would get to work ...
- Mr. Castle? - a well-built African-American man in a perfectly tailored gray blazer walked into the interrogation room. - I'm Captain Roy Montgomery. I understand you're still on the case, interfering with the investigation. And that's wrong. If every suspect, dashing victim sticks his nose in where it doesn't belong, this case is gonna end up in the monkey bars real quick. Is that really what you want? You should see a doctor after you've been poisoned, not steal evidence from my staff. And even if we make nice with you, it doesn't mean a lawsuit won't follow. Uncuff him!
The private cop who was guarding the arrestee deftly unlocked Castle's wrists and just as deftly and discreetly left the room. Beckett and the lawyer went inside instead.
And at that moment Montgomery got a call: he took the call with a disgruntled look and immediately went out, and Beckett, deliberately slowly lowering herself at the table, opened the folder already known to Castle, and just as slowly slipped into it the photos seized in the loft.
- I hope nothing's missing, Detective, - Castle smiled his kindest smile. - I can keep a secret.
But Beckett kept a contemptuous silence, just looked at his face coldly and aloofly, and Castle realized that he was bargaining for him, started on his own initiative. Moreover, at a gesture from the ajar door the lawyer gathered and went out, and they were left alone again. And there was so much cold passion in the stern, indescribably beautiful features of Detective Beckett, that Castle turned at once to a thousand saints, praying for future opportunities and leniency. And immediately began to develop an approach to her. A little fooling around, somewhere - to speak, somewhere - to keep silent, watching Beckett from the outside and identifying taste preferences. And the way to this mysterious soul promised to be very winding ...
At last the door opened, and the captain and his lawyer entered. The attorney stood indifferently to Castle's right, and Montgomery drew a chair to sit beside Beckett. And he looked at Castle with that hard, piercing look, as if he had seen him for the first time ...
- Well, you've made a mess of things, Mr. Castle, - Roy said, playing with his jowls. - I don't like to be pushed around, and I don't like to be pushed around. But there's too many calls for the evening, from the department, from the mayor's office, and I'll have to comply. But if you screw up, Mr. Castle, you'll have to answer to the full extent of the law," and he switched to the lawyer: - Your turn, sir!