Confession Chapter 37

Attorney Forrester Sims didn't expect to make any drive, let alone one to Rikers, while debris from the storm is still being cleared from the roadway. Fortunately, the bridge which is the only access to the correctional facility seems to have suffered no damage. The former JAG officer makes it to the prison without incident.

After the prescribed paperwork and body searches, Sims takes a seat across the table from a securely shackled Cole Maddox. "What's so urgent?" he demands. "The SDNY and the court suspended operations before the hurricane hit and the NYPD has been in full rescue mode. Things are just now beginning to start up again."

"That's why we need to move now," Maddox insists. "Did you see the story about the reporter accused of stalking Michaelson Rafferty getting turned loose?"

"I don't waste my time reading celebrity fluff pieces," Sims declares. "What the hell could that have to do with your case?"

Maddox's long jaw tightens. "Look, both of us were kicked loose from Afghanistan for watching our own asses. That's just what I want to do now, but I need you to get on it right away before my boss does anything to screw me. That reporter got pictures of Rafferty going to an expensive cat house, the kind of place where guys with enough cash can get drugs, fetish s**t, anything they want. And some of the women they bring in never planned on doing that kind of work. Vulcan Simmons runs the whole operation and the boss gets a huge slice, laundered through YY & F. That's why it was so easy to plant me there to kill Prince. He was the boss' go-between with Simmons. But with Rafferty making the news, the boss is going to want to shut down that house and anything or anyone who knows about his connection to it. I need to make a deal before he can cover his tracks."

"We already talked about you flipping on the boss for sending you to take out Prince. But the more you have, the better deal I can make for you. So how much do you know about your boss' dealings with Simmons and YY & F?"

Smugness twists Maddox's smile. "Enough."

Kate studies the file that retired detective Will Bronson assembled on Machad O'Leary. She can't spot any obvious errors or omissions. Bronson had researched the victim, Willa Metry, gathering more than enough evidence that she was O'Leary's mistress. He'd researched O'Leary too, turning up plenty of evidence that the man was a scumbag. Unfortunately, he couldn't find any hard evidence that O'Leary was a murderer. No murder weapon was recovered and there was no video or witness testimony putting O'Leary at the scene. Nothing put anyone else at the scene either. Still, from Bronson's notes, he was clearly convinced that O'Leary did it. He just couldn't prove it.

Kate flips the file shut and drops it on the desk in front of her. With O'Leary's death, everything about him is open to scrutiny, ostensibly to find his killer. Finally getting some closure for Willa's family could be an extra bonus. And Gates would appreciate the positive effect on the precinct's closure statistics.

Kate's first step will be to go see Bronson. She checks on his address. Like many cops who wanted to make the most of their pensions, he moved out of New York City, specifically to New Rochelle. Though part of expensive Westchester County, New Rochelle is located at the cheaper end and is known for affordable housing. It's not much of a drive from the city either. If Bronson is home, she can talk with him and be back in the city in a couple of hours or so. She picks up the phone to make the appointment.

Will Bronson's eyes are bright beneath close-cropped steel gray hair. "Detective Beckett, I've read about you. I'm glad you recovered from your shooting. But I have to admit that I'm disappointed you don't have your famous shadow with you. I was looking forward to meeting Mr. Castle. Now that I'm retired I have a lot more time to read. I've enjoyed all of his books."

"So have I," Kate confides. "My former captain, Roy Montgomery, liked having Castle around. He helped me solve a lot of cases. But my new one, Captain Gates, thinks police work should only be done by cops. So right now, Castle has to coach from the sidelines."

"Captain Gates, Victoria Gates?" Bronson asks.

Kate leans forward in her chair at Bronson's dining table. "Yes, that's right. Do you know her?"

"I more than know her," Bronson announces with a grin, "I was her training officer. We still exchange Christmas cards and such, but she also occasionally seeks the advice of her old teacher. And I thought I taught her better than to waste a valuable resource like Richard Castle. We are about due to touch base. Perhaps she could use a refresher course on taking the best advantage of performance-boosting opportunities."

"Detective Bronson, if she thinks I asked you to…."

Bronson holds up a hand. "No worries, Beckett. It is entirely my own idea and I'll make sure she knows it. But, getting to the reason you came up here. You wanted to talk about the Willa Metry case?"

"More specifically, I wanted to talk about Machad O'Leary. His body just turned up and I'm wondering if there's a connection between the two cases. From your notes, you seemed pretty sure O'Leary killed Willa Metry."

"I was one hundred percent sure O'Leary killed her," Bronson declares, "or I would have looked further into other suspects. I interviewed Willa's mother, her sister, and her best friend. They all said the same thing. O'Leary was a controlling bastard. Willa had to do exactly what he wanted her to do exactly when he wanted her to do it. She had to wear the clothes he liked. She couldn't even have anything in her refrigerator except his favorite foods. And if O'Leary thought she even looked at another man, he'd go crazy."

"Did he hit her?"

"They all thought that he did, but she would never admit to it. She would always explain away her injuries saying she fell or bumped into something. She said the same thing to her doctors. They had their suspicions, but nothing they could testify to with any certainty. So I could never prove it. And without being able to put him at the murder scene or connect him to a murder weapon, the DA wouldn't touch the case."

"So, hypothetically, if O'Leary had a new mistress, might she have slipped a .22 into her pocket, gotten up close, and permanently ended their relationship?" Kate inquires.

Bronson raises an eyebrow. "It's a likely enough theory."

"It's Castle's."

"Then, if I were you, Detective, I would run with it and find the mistress. But I'd also hope she has a lawyer who could argue justifiable homicide."

"And introduce evidence from Willa's case to show a pattern of behavior?" Kate queries.

"It would make for some good lawyering. And I will give you this. Willa Metry had unusual coloring."

"I saw from her file that she was a redhead with green eyes," Kate recalls.

"She was, indeed, a natural redhead, but not as pale as redheads usually are. I would have called her skin tone more olive. But the thing is, O'Leary liked to play tennis. And he always wanted Willa in the stands rooting him on."

"A pale-skinned redhead, even with sunscreen, could have ended up looking like a lobster," Kate realizes. "But a darker-skinned woman wouldn't sunburn as easily. So if O'Leary found a replacement, she might be a darker-skinned redhead as well."

"Just a thought," O'Leary says.

"Not a thought, Detective Bronson, a lead."