Confession Chapter 38

Kate is researching everything she can find on Machad O'Leary since Bronson stopped adding to the Willa Metry file when Gates gestures her into her office. Close the door," the captain instructs. "I just got a call from a retired detective, Will Bronson. He said you went to see him this morning."

"I did," Kate confirms. "I believed he had information relevant to my investigation of the O'Leary murder."

"And did he?"

"It's possible. I'm still checking out what's occurred since he investigated the earlier case. Is there a problem, Captain?" Kate inquires.

"According to Bronson, there is. Apparently, he's a fan of your former shadow. He's been keeping up with the cases you've solved and feels that Castle made a significant contribution to the department's murder-closure success." Gates points with her folded glasses. "He said that not continuing to avail myself of free and valuable assistance is a rookie mistake. He also pointed out the favorable PR that your partnership with Castle brought to the department."

"Captain, I had nothing to do with any of that," Kate insists.

"So Will said. But maybe you should have. Because Bronson is right. I've been trying to use every resource I could to get our numbers up around here, but I let my personal bias keep me from using a major one. So as of now – if he's willing – I want Castle in here."

"Now? You mean right now?"

"If possible."

Kate nods. "I'll give him a call."

"You do that, Detective."

Alexis clomps into the loft to find her father giggling as he lays down the phone. "Dad? Are you all right?"

"Fine!" Castle picks up his daughter and twirls her around. "Better than fine. I get to go back and work with Beckett. In fact, I can go right now if you don't need me for anything."

"I need you to sign a permission slip for my trip to the state mathletics competition. But you can do it later."

"Give it here now. I don't want anything hanging over my head as I reenter the crime-busting halls."

Alexis rolls her eyes. "Sure, Dad. But I smell lasagna. Are you going to make it back for dinner?"

"Oh, the lasagna. Right. The timer's set. It comes out of the oven at four-forty-five. Then it has to rest for twenty minutes so it doesn't fall apart when we cut it."

"Uh-huh. I know. So will you be here to eat it?"

"I should be, and Beckett too. Gates hasn't changed that much. She's still keeping the detectives to strict shifts unless there's some exceedingly compelling reason for overtime. And given that Beckett's current case was dead for more than a day before the body was discovered, the vital window clock has unfortunately already run out. Solving this case may be an uphill battle."

"But one you can't wait to fight," Alexis says.

Castle plants a kiss on his daughter's forehead. "Gotta go!"

"I'm back," Castle proclaims, bounding off the elevator toward the bullpen. He drops into the chair Kate restored to its spot by her desk. "So what are we doing?"

"You remember your theory about the new mistress?"

"Of course, cherchez la femme."

"Well, je cherche. I have O'Leary's phone records. I've been checking to see who he called the most. I have it down to six numbers. I'll split them with you. Based on the last mistress O'Leary probably killed, a new mistress may be a redhead, possibly with a darker skin tone and green eyes."

Castle throws up a hand. "Whoa! That is surprisingly specific. What am I missing?"

Kate hands him Bronson's case file. "Here you go, Speedy Gonzales, read."

"I hope you are just referring to how rapidly I take in the written word."

Kate winks. "Not to worry. Just read the damn file and I'll fill you in on the rest."

I think I've got her," Castle announces as Kate drains the last of her second cup of coffee brewed with Castle's special flare. "O'Leary called her 20 times during the week before he was murdered. She's got red hair, green eyes, and a skin tone hinting of some more sun-resistant ancestors."

"How do you know?" Kate asks.

"Image search. Turns out she did a spate – a very short spate – as a model for sportswear. The pics are still on the web."

"What kind of sportswear?"

"Looked like tennis togs, mostly."

"Tennis. O'Leary was a tennis player. So, which one of our list of six is she?"

"Nedra Voles. Can you use your handy-dandy NYPD last known address finder?"

"Already on it."

Forrester Sims sits across the table from Mary Waters' deputy, Letisha Chappers. "I am telling you that my client has enough information to tie the big man to Vulcan Simmons and their money laundering through YY & F. But you have to move now before the whole operation closes down and the evidence evaporates."

"Your client has been indicted on first-degree murder charges, Mr. Sims. You're asking this office to expend considerable resources based on his word. In my experience, defendants with charges like that hanging over their heads will say anything to slither out from under. I need more, a lot more," Chappers replies.

Then start with what that reporter, Tim Wheeler, got on Michaelson Rafferty. He took pictures of a mansion in the woods – and the buses bringing in women. And question Roger Tooman. He knows all about the money being laundered through YY & F. You shouldn't have much trouble connecting the dots. But you'd better do it fast. There's probably already a hit out on Tooman, and there could be one on Vulcan Simmons. You wait on this, and any evidence you have against the boss will be gone with the wind."

"I need to take this to Ms. Waters," Letitia says. "But this office is familiar with some of the issues you've raised on behalf of your client. I will be looking into what you've brought."

"As I said, Ms. Chappers, you'd better look fast," Sims warns. "I think we both know how effective certain powers can be at burying anything and anyone who poses a threat."

"Yes, Mr. Sims," Chappers assures him, "we are well aware of it."

An attractive black woman answers the door at Nedra Voles' address of record and gazes warily over a security chain. "Can I help you?"

Kate displays her badge. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett. This is Mr. Castle. We're looking for Nedra Voles."

"Then I'm sorry, Detective. I'm Laweeda Jones. If Nedra Voles was the previous tenant, she moved out a week ago. I was on the waiting list for this building. I've been looking for a place down here. So as soon as I got the notification the apartment was available, I moved right in."

"Did she leave a forwarding address?" Kate asks.

"From what I understand, she just left. The super came in to make sure there was no storm damage like leakage around the windows and found the place empty."

"Did she leave anything behind?" Castle asks.

"Just her couch. I figured maybe she couldn't get it on a truck or something. It goes OK with my stuff, so I kept it."

"Can we see it?" Kate asks.

Laweeda shrugs. "I'm still putting the place together, but sure."

Castle eyes the furniture in question. "Kate, would you say that dent in the cushions is about the size of your victim's hindquarters?"

Kate nods. "Looks that way."

"And what do you think the chances are of finding his DNA?"

"I'd say pretty good."