Confession Chapter 51

Joe Martin gives his usual friendly nod to the guard in the lobby of the SDNY building before walking toward the elevator. The guard blocks his way. "I'm sorry, Mr. Martin, you're going to have to come with me."

Despite the sudden chill racing through his body, Joe flashes a smile. "I really need to get upstairs, Harvey. I have to get things organized before Ms. Weston returns."

Harvey doesn't move. "My chief got the order directly from Ms. Weston. I'm to detain you."

Joe's tightening chest squeezes the air from his lungs. "Detain me for what?"

"That's above my pay grade," Harvey admits. "I just know I'm supposed to hold you until someone from the FBI takes over."

"Well I guess you have to follow orders," Joe says, before suddenly whirling and dashing for the exit.

Harvey tackles him to the ground. "I've never had to draw my gun. Don't make me start now." He zip-ties Joe's wrists and pulls him to his feet. "This way." Firmly holding onto Joe's arm, Harvey leads him to a small room off the lobby and pushes him down into a metal chair. "You won't have to wait long. I saw the agents heading to the café for coffee. I sent out an alert when I spotted you. They should be here any minute." The chair feels cold against Joe's body – and he really needs a bathroom.

LT meets Kate and Castle at the elevator and hands Kate a file. "Ivan Girosol's financials. They just came in."

"Thanks, LT," Kate says taking the file. "I need these."

"How did you manage to order those?" Castle asks, dropping into his accustomed spot next to Kate's desk. "You said you didn't have enough to get a warrant to search Ivan's place for a snake."

"But according to what we found, Ivan is Morgan's closest relative and would be next in line to benefit from the family trust. That makes him at the very least, a person of interest. His financials could give us what we need to take the next step."

"Great thinking, Detective," Castle says as Kate hands him part of the printout. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"The usual, maxed out credit cards, low balances. Anything to indicate he was in financial trouble."

"How about weird purchases?" Castle asks.

"Like what?"

Castle taps his finger on an entry. "A large order from Burpee. They sell seeds, plants, and all kinds of garden stuff. I know about the place because I contributed to a community garden Alexis volunteered in a couple of years ago. I can see a guy who lives in an apartment ordering a little greenery to brighten up the place, but not spending this kind of money."

Kate scans a printout. "Doesn't look like he could afford it, either. He put it on a credit card and was making minimum payments."

"He must have thought it would pay off," Castle assumes. "But from what I can see, he wasn't exactly raking it in from working at the prop house. He must have been expecting to come into another source of income – like the Gorlois family trust."

"It's a good bet." Kate agrees. "If Markway's in a decent mood, we should be able to get a warrant to search Ivan's apartment now."

"And for this search, you won't have to remind me to put on my gloves," Castle declares. "Whatever he has, I don't want."

At his first glance inside Ivan Girosol's apartment, Castle lets out a low whistle. "Wow! Look at all of this! He wasn't waiting until he got access to the garden at the mansion. He has his own indoor grow room."

Kate gazes around at the plants growing under lights and plastic domes. "I've seen something like this before, but it was to grow pot. This isn't pot."

"I know, Beckett. I went to college too. I know what pot looks like. Actually, I didn't have to wait until college. I was at this boarding school where some of the boys had a setup. It wasn't as fancy as this, but it was enough to supply the needs of the student body – and at least a couple of the teachers."

"Really, Castle? How did they manage to hide the plants?"

The bell tower had a cellar. When the depression hit, the school funded itself by bootlegging. But after prohibition was repealed, the room was closed off and pretty much forgotten. The young entrepreneurs opened it up again and even repurposed some of the equipment. It was all very efficient."

"So what happened? Did they get caught?"

"No, they graduated. One of them is a Silicon Valley millionaire now. He was always a real go-getter. It looks like Ivan has some very enterprising tendencies as well."

"Mm-hmm. But right now our enterprise is to find the snake."

"The snake in the garden," Castle muses. "How very biblical. If one follows the metaphor, it should be hanging around the tree of the knowledge of good and evil."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Ivan isn't growing any trees."

Castle strokes an imaginary beard. "So where would the knowledge of good and evil be? Ha!" He rushes to the room's only bookshelf and pulls out a huge, ornate Bible. "This looks like it's another prop, maybe for those brave priest vs. demon movies. And inside? Ooh! Beckett! Come have a look!"

Kate stares into a hollow inside the faux holy book. "It's a snake!"

"If I'm not mistaken, a diamondback rattler," Castle adds. "The murder weapon?"

Kate pulls a large evidence bag from the pocket of her jacket. "The lab should be able to tell us."

Sims takes a last look at the well-appointed offices he'd spent so many years expanding and furnishing. Weston may have been thrown off the trail when Sims was one of the targets at 33 Thomas Street, but even if she never comes after him, someone else will. Bracken wants him dead. That's not about to change. He could try to negotiate a deal for himself, but compared to Maddox and Simmons, what he knows is small potatoes. If he turns himself in, he'll be looking at prison time, probably a lot of it – if one of Bracken's plants doesn't take him out before he makes it to trial. He has no choice but to run. At least he's created a nest egg for himself where the IRS can't reach it. But that won't help him if he's behind bars or dead.

One of Sims' grateful clients gifted him with a phony passport a few years back. With Bracken behind him, Sims didn't believe he'd have to use it, but he kept it as a failsafe. Now it will be his lifeline. He'll board a Disney cruise ship, a somewhat unlikely choice for a childless man, and make his escape at a suitable port of call. He doubts the FBI will bother tracking him down. Where the Bracken case is concerned, they'll have much bigger fish to fry.

Sims doesn't have the rest of his plan in place, but he's sure he can find some obscure island where no one will bother him. And the thought of spending the rest of his life lounging on a beach isn't so bad – not so bad at all. As he leaves his office, he can almost hear the waves – until he hears something much less pleasant from a man holding up a badge. "Mr. Sims, you need to come with me."