Confession Chapter 13

Musician extraordinaire Sam is tinkling away at the upright piano and Esposito and Ryan are at the bar when Castle strolls into the Old Haunt. "I asked Javi to bring me along," Ryan explains. "Maybe I can help somehow."

"And he loves the miniature corndogs," Esposito adds.

"I'll make sure the kitchen keeps those and the poppers coming," Castle promises.

"How's Beckett?" Ryan asks.

"Amazing! She pulled everything possible out of a witness today. And her appetite is back full blast too. But by the time we returned from our road trip today, she was ready to drop, otherwise, she probably would have made me bring her along."

"So, Castle, you said you wanted to ask me something about the military," Esposito says.

"That's right. I think Beckett's shooter might have been hired by an ex-cop, Jimmy Carmack, who specializes in recruiting from the military. I was wondering if you ever heard of a sniper that fits the DNA profile the Chicago cops got for Beckett's shooter."

"Tall, dark, and blue-eyed covers a lot of territory, Castle," Esposito points out.

"Including you," Ryan adds.

"But I've never been in the military and I've never trained as a sniper. And this guy would probably be a rogue. Maybe someone who got kicked out or maybe turned merc. Espo, have you ever heard of anyone like that?"

"There were some like that in Afghanistan, maybe too many, but let me ask – oh, no, wait a minute. There was this one guy I heard about. He was taking bribes to protect drug operations. The Army kicked him loose with a dishonorable. I never heard what happened after that."

"Was he a sniper?" Castle asks.

"He was. And he had blue eyes, but not the kind the chicks fall for, like you or Ryan. The guys over there called him 'Icy.'

"Did they call him anything else, like an actual name?" Castle inquires.

"Joot, Manfred Joot. But with a dishonorable, he wouldn't have any vets' benefits. And it wouldn't look good on a job app either. He could've changed it."

"Or stolen an identity," Castle considers. "Still, it's a place to start. And Beckett and I managed to get something today, too, a description of a drug dealer. But she's not sure who we can trust in Narcotics to identify the guy."

"I was in Narcotics for years," Ryan says, "mostly undercover on Staten Island. But I heard a lot of stories. Maybe I heard about your guy."

Castle's eyebrow leaps upward. "Black, probably kept his hair, gold and emerald earring, distinctively deep voice."

"Operated out of Washington Heights?" Ryan asks.

Castle nods. "Probably. That's where Beckett's mom was trying to get rid of drugs."

Ryan rubs his fingers over the stubble beginning to darken his jawline. "Then I think you're looking for Vulcan Simmons."

"I met a retired cop over at Joe Nepo's, who mentioned the same name," Castle recalls.

"Yeah. From what I understand, back when Johanna Beckett was murdered, Simmons ran all the drug dealers from the 160s all the way up. A lot of cops would have heard of him," Ryan figures.

"What happened to him?" Castle asks.

"Don't know," Ryan admits. "But he should have a jacket at least three inches thick. It shouldn't be hard to find out. We can get in tomorrow before Montgomery shows up and have a look."

Castle signals to the bartender. "Brian, a round for the house."

As he lets himself into the loft, Castle smiles at the unmistakable pink bottle Alexis left on the counter. Fortunately, he doesn't need it. He'd taken a cab to the Old Haunt, prepared to catch another one for a tipsy ride home. After only two beers but a full basket of chicken wings and steak fries, he was fine riding the less convenient but ultimately faster, subway. An indispensable locale for a people-watching writer, it was still pretty packed, with people returning either from working late or enjoying a bit of alcohol-enhanced downtime before facing any home-based challenges.

Castle caught the A train, which if he stayed on it long enough, would take him to Washington Heights. He didn't go nearly that far, only a few stops. But the ride gave him time to study the other passengers and wonder which ones would stay aboard for the full northward journey. Would they be entering territory whose life continued to be drained by Vulcan Simmons, or would a new leech on humanity have taken his place? With any luck, Ryan will have an answer for him in the morning.

In the meantime, until he's depressurized enough to sleep, Castle can try to find something on Manfred Joot. One thing about a name like that, it won't draw too many irrelevant hits. Eschewing caffeine, he fills a tumbler with water and takes it to his desk. Sinking into his chair, he flips open his laptop. "Manfred Joot. What were you up to before you donned the uniform you disgraced?" He immediately finds his guess to be correct. Other than references to an obscure composer, there is only one Manfred Joot who matches his search entry.

The articles containing references to Manfred Joot all refer to his expertise as a marksman, but not for target shooting. The teenage Manfred Joot won several awards for his prowess as a hunter, bringing down deer. He won the last one just before joining the army. A hunting magazine praising his accomplishment features an image of a tall young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes proudly displaying a trophy.

Castle copies the image for a reverse lookup. If it appeared anywhere, hopefully, tied to Joot's present identity, his search engine should find it. He rubs his eyes for a moment after pushing "Enter." He opens them again to only one result, but it's enough. Castle stares at a damning revelation. "The bloodthirsty bastard just couldn't resist. Deer-hunting champion for the Northeast, Hal Lockwood. Got you, you sonofabitch!"

Castle knocks on the door of Kate's apartment as early as he dares. He faintly detects the aroma of scrambled eggs as she opens the door herself. "Beckett! How long have you been up?"

"Since sunrise, whenever that was, even before Graciela. I told her to take her time getting dressed and ready."

Castle gives Kate an impish wink. "I'd be willing to bet she checked your pulse and took your blood pressure before she agreed."

"She did. And it was fine, Castle. So did Esposito give you anything you could use, at your little boys' night?"

"It was more of a boys' night than I thought it would be. He brought Ryan. And Beckett, with what I got from the two of them, we've hit the motherlode. Ryan figured out that the dealer Judy saw was Vulcan Simmons. And Esposito gave me enough to put a name to your shooter." Castle hands Kate a printout of the photo of the Northeast's champion deer slayer.

She stares at the image. "Icy blue eyes. Who is he?"

"It's not the name he was born with, but he's going by Hal Lockwood. And I checked. The names of Bracken's staff are a matter of public record, including Carmack's security people. Lockwood's on the roster."

Kate runs the tips of her fingers over the photo. "This is the guy who shot me?"

"I'd put money on it."

"We may both be betting our lives on it, Castle. Now we have to prove it."