Confession Chapter 27
"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you upstairs?" Castle asks as Kate steps out of the passenger side of his Mercedes.
"Sure I don't want you to, no," she admits. "But you shouldn't, not if either of us is actually going to sleep tonight."
"All right, Beckett," he concedes. "I'll call you after I get in touch with Reston Caldwell."
"You'd better let me call you," Kate cautions. "Taking personal calls is on Gates' crackdown list."
"It wouldn't be a personal call," Castle protests. "It would be about your case."
"Which you're not officially on yet. Please, Castle, just let me handle the thing with Gates."
"It doesn't sound like I have much choice. Good night, Beckett. Sweet dreams."
"I'd settle for any dreams at all," Kate thinks, pulling out her key to her building's outer door. As part of her training regimen, she takes the stairs rather than the elevator, to her apartment, then quickly checks her pulse. Her heart is beating a little fast, but she doubts it has much to do with the added exertion. She can't go on resisting Castle's unremitting pull much longer. She doesn't want to. But she can't afford to compromise her investigations or her case against Bracken, either. She'll work it all out soon. She'll have to.
"Richard Castle, to what do I owe the honor of an early-morning call?" Reston Caldwell inquires.
"We have a mutual interest," Castle says, "the local drug trade. I'm not putting it in a book," he adds hurriedly, "at least not as a focal point. But getting some information on a particular dealer is vital to the health and well-being of a friend of mine."
Castle can almost hear Caldwell's blond eyebrows rising. "How close a friend?"
"About as close as it gets – or will get."
"What's the name of the drug dealer?"
"Vulcan Simmons."
"Wow! A lot of story there, going back a couple of decades."
"I know that part. His history is actually what figures into his importance now," Castle explains.
"What exactly do you need to know?" Caldwell queries.
"Is he selling drugs to fund Senator William Bracken's political war chest?"
Caldwell clears his throat. "That's getting to the point. I can tell you two things. Vulcan Simmons is still selling drugs, and not just on the streets of the city. The Big Apple may not even be his major revenue stream. From what I've managed to dig up, he's got an operation, a mansion somewhere in the woods in Westchester County. It's like Hefner's old place on steroids – parties, beautiful women, and pretty much every drug around including the newest designer ones. His clients have to have big bucks to get in and even bigger ones to keep an open invitation. The word is that some political bigwig, could be Bracken, sends all the movers and shakers and gets a big cut off the top."
"Have you ever heard the name Reince Prince?" Castle questions.
"Can't forget a name like that. And I've run across it a couple of times. From what I gather, he's Simmons' contact with the big boss in DC. Why?"
"He'll be in the press soon enough."
"Another one of those murders you stick your nose in?" Caldwell asks.
"I don't stick my nose in murders. I help the NYPD solve them."
"Specifically, you help a very beautiful and recently shot cop solve them. Is this about one of her cases?"
"I can't confirm or deny," Castle declares.
"I think you just did," Caldwell observes. "But in any event, I hope my information helps. And you'll give me the first crack at anything I can use that comes out of this?"
"Absolutely."
Kate doesn't call Castle until well after noon when she gets a chance to grab lunch or takes a 20 as Gates insists she document it. "Did Caldwell know anything about Simmons?" she asks anxiously.
"He couldn't confirm a connection to Bracken, but he had heard that Simmons is dealing with a powerful politician. Still, something else came up, Beckett, another way to Simmons, and possibly Bracken as well. But…."
"There's always a 'but,' Castle. What is it?" Kate demands.
"The trail leads to a location outside NYPD jurisdiction, but covered by the SDNY. We're going to need its help, Beckett. I think we need to take this to Elizabeth Weston."
"That's not the way things work, Castle. Mary Waters is our primary contact and according to my dad, even she's pretty damn high up in the hierarchy."
"I guess that she's pretty damn high up is a good thing," Castle considers. "I can give you all the details Caldwell gave me. Maybe we can even research them more deeply. Then we can go to her together. I could come to the precinct if you can't get away."
"I don't think that would be a good idea yet, Castle," Kate says, recalling the stern look on Gate's face when one of the detectives in the bullpen brought up Castle's theorizing at the murder board. The fact that Castle had been right didn't make her expression any friendlier. "Look, one thing about Gates is that the world would have to be coming to an end for her to authorize any overtime. So I should be out of here at five. Can we meet someplace quiet for dinner?"
"Alexis has study group after school and then they're all going out for pizza. Mother will be at the theater, so it will just be the two of us. I can cook," Castle offers.
"That's probably a good idea," Kate allows. "Anywhere we go the walls could have ears." Castle chuckles. "What's so funny?"
"Just the image that flitted through my mind. Very Seussical. All right. See you here around five thirty-ish?"
"Yeah. That should work."
Kate uses her cloth napkin from Castle's impressive table setting to dab marinara sauce from her lips. "So you've been thinking that the SDNY should send the FBI into Westchester County to raid Simmons' version of a drug lord's playground."
"Something like that," Castle agrees. "The FBI wouldn't actually be my first choice. The only way they caught the Unabomber was his brother turned him in while the bureau had a hundred agents looking in the wrong state. But they are the agency the DOJ uses to bust the bad guys. So I guess we have to live with it."
"And assuming we can get the SDNY to sign off on that, how exactly do we know where Simmons' mansion is? Westchester County covers almost 500 square miles. It's also one of the wealthiest in the state. It has a lot of mansions."
Castle nods. "Second wealthiest. There are property records, although I suspect the ownership is buried under a shell corp. or something. But more to the point, there's gossip. If the rich and powerful are going off to get stoned and indulge their sexual fantasies at some deep woods hideaway, someone is going to talk about it. Better still, someone is going to write about it. In the mood to peruse some muckraking?"
"The dirtier the better."
Castle points at the screen. "Typical blind item. 'Which movie star turned media mogul made a pilgrimage to the Westchester Woods last weekend? Sources have it that number 10 on the show business influence list more than enjoyed artificially heightened pleasure with several partners. Apparently, his wife is shopping in Paris and can't be reached for comment.' We're getting really close, Beckett."
Kate pokes two fingers at her bottom lip. "Yes, everything is coming together. So who would be number 10 on the show business influence list?"
"I'm ashamed to say I don't know," Castle admits. "Such standings tend to fluctuate and unless one is seeking to finance a project, it's not vital to keep track. However, my domicile does house someone who keeps herself up on such matters." He consults his watch. "But assuming she doesn't do the walk of shame – or in her case shameless pride – tomorrow morning, it will still be hours before she is home. We can further research the New York gossip mill until then." Castle leans hopefully across the table. "Unless you'd prefer to indulge in an alternative activity."
Kate's voice drops an octave. "How long until Alexis will be coming home?"
"At least an hour. Probably more like two. Kate, are you really…?"
"What I am is really tired. Tired of waiting."