Confession Chapter 55
"Yo, Beckett, we've got something," Esposito announces from the doorway of Tech.
With Castle close behind, Kate threads her way through the bullpen as fast as she can. Ryan points to an image on the big screen. "See that van? We spotted it at a corner two blocks east of the crime scene. This corner is two blocks west. It took it 20 minutes to get there."
"The timestamp is one-fifty-three," Kate notes. "At that time of the morning, it should have taken only a few minutes to go that far. It had to have stopped along the way."
"To dump and adorn the body," Castle puts in.
"That's what we figured," Esposito says. "And we got the feed from a security camera at the office building across the street."
Ryan hits a few keys on the control console. "Take a gander."
"The van's just sitting there in front of the alley," Castle notes.
"The killer could have dragged the body out of a sliding door on the other side, and taken it into the alley," Kate speculates.
"Then covered it with garbage either brought along in the van or scooped from a dumpster," Castle continues. "After that, all that would remain would be re-entering the van and driving off."
"Did the traffic cams get a plate?" Kate asks.
"They did. We're tracing it now," Ryan replies. His phone beeps. "And here it is. The van is registered to a business, Greenway Collision Repair."
"Greenway Collision Repair," Castle repeats. "They could blast damaged sections of a car down to bare metal and they'd do a lot of painting. All that could generate hazardous waste."
"Into refinishing cars, are you, Castle?" Esposito questions.
Ryan smiles knowingly at his partner. "Research for Rushing Storm, right, Castle? Storm exposes a drug ring that tricks up salvage cars for runs across the border."
"Gold star for Ryan. Yeah, I hung out for a while at several shops that did that kind of work," Castle confirms. "Those guys can be real artists, matching colors, painting racing stripes, that kind of thing. But they all groused about the hazardous waste regs. A company like Springsplits that claimed to get rid of the hassle would have been welcomed with open arms. But Springsplits' screwups could have come back on an enterprise like that too. I checked. The government goes after hazardous waste from cradle to grave. When there's mishandling or a spill, anyone and everyone along the chain can be hit with big fines. It could put a business out of business, especially if they can't recover from the true guilty party."
"A business like Greenway Collision Repair," Kate says. "We need to see if it's listed as a liability on the Springsplits bankruptcy."
"No need," Castle declares. "I remember. It is – at an address up in the Bronx. Time to hit the road?"
"Definitely," Kate agrees.
Greenway Collision Repair is open and operating but just barely. One spray booth is occupied by a painter applying a coat of primer to a car. Another worker is pulling the dents out of the only other vehicle in sight. Kate strides up to him, the heels of her boots clucking against the epoxy-sealed cement floor. Castle follows, glancing around as he goes. "I'm Detective Beckett," Kate announces, indicating the badge on her belt. I need to talk to Mr. Greenway."
"Dirk's not here. He doesn't come in much anymore, not enough work to supervise. I'm Lyle Snodgrass. Dirk's my father-in-law. Can I help you with something?"
"Can you tell me where to find Mr. Greenway?" Kate asks.
"I'm afraid I can't. He said he needed some time to decide what to do about the business." Lyle waves around the cavernous room. "As you can see, it's not exactly hopping. He said he was going to drive up North somewhere to figure things out."
"Is there anyone else who would know where to find him? Your wife maybe?" Castle inquires.
"Melody and I were together when he told us he was taking off. She didn't hear any more than I did."
"Might he have called her from the road?" Kate presses.
Lyle shrugs. "It's possible."
"Then, I'd like to talk to her," Kate says. "Where can I find her right now?"
"She's at work at the Benwick Boutique. That's at 82nd and Broadway in Manhattan. She's a manager there. We'd never make it on what I can earn here these days. She'll be there until nine tonight."
Kate nods. "All right, thanks."
"Eighty-second and Broadway," Castle muses as Kate pulls her unit into traffic. "That's only two blocks from Zabars. This time of day the best bagels will all be gone, but they have a new coffee blend I've been dying to try. And we could pick up some great deli for supper."
Kate artfully maneuvers ahead of a slow-moving truck. "Let's talk to Melody Snodgrass first, and then we'll see."
Melody motions Kate and Castle through a curtain into a back room. "I can't have the customers seeing me standing around talking to a cop. It doesn't look good. So you wanted to ask me about my father. Why?"
"We think he might be able to help us with a current investigation. Do you know how to reach him?" Kate queries.
"I could give you his cell phone number," Melody replies, "but he told me he's keeping it turned off unless he wants to make a call. He needs some quiet time."
"And do you know where he went to take his quiet time?" Castle inquires.
"He didn't say exactly, but there's a place he went sometimes after he and my mother, God rest her soul, had a fight. It's a little cabin near Skaneateles Lake. I don't know the exact address. I'm not sure it has one. But he told me once that it's away from where they hold the festivals – if that helps."
"It does," Kate says. "Thanks."
"Skaneateles Lake, isn't that where your dad has his cabin?" Castle asks Kate as they leave the boutique.
"It is," Kate agrees. "He's always loved it because it's the cleanest lake in the state, second cleanest in the country. But his cabin is away from all the festivals too. He just likes the water and the fish."
"So might he know where Greenway's cabin is?" Castle wonders.
"It's certainly worth asking."
Castle's eyebrows wriggle. "And you know what else is worth asking? Pastrami, corned beef or brisket?"
Kate pokes a playful elbow into his side. "Doesn't Zabars sell caviar and paté? Why are you asking me about brisket?"
"Whoa! If the lady wants caviar and paté, she shall have it. But when did you step into the world of Champagne wishes and caviar dreams?"
Kate rolls her eyes. "Babe, sometimes you are so easy. No Champagne wishes, at least until Bracken is behind bars, and I don't even like caviar. But if it's cooked long, slow, and moist, I can get my mouth around brisket."
Castle gulps. "Long, slow, and moist, sounds like a truly excellent procedure."
"But let's call my father first."
Castle halts in his tracks. "What?"
"Call my father about Greenway's cabin. Then we can check out Zabar's selection of deli meats."
"Right. Uh-huh, Greenway's cabin. Sure. Let's talk to your dad."
Kate pulls her cell phone out of her pants. "This shouldn't take long."
Castle slowly blows out a breath. Right now he could use a dip in the lake in question – especially if the water is cold.