Finding the Fit Chapter 32
The expression on Gomer Senna's face as he exits through the hidden side door clearly reveals that it had not been a good night for him. In fact, it had been a terrible night. At first, he'd been on a winning streak, right until he'd split two tens, bet big, and busted on both hands. Still, after that, convinced he could recover and win big again, he'd given the house his marker for $50,000. He'd lost it all. Worse, the floor supervisor informed him that the boss wanted to have a little talk.
The grin on Vulcan Simmons' face seemed almost demonic as his deep voice rumbled the terms of Gomer's indenture. He'd make no attempt to collect the $50,000 as long as Gomer played ball. In fact, he'd ensure that Gomer got his state senate seat. But in return, Gomer would work for him. He'd push state bills in the direction Simmons instructed. He also would report back on any political discussions in which he was involved or managed to overhear. As long as Gomer was a good boy and didn't shoot his mouth off about the deal, his bones would remain intact. But if he failed in any way, his marker would be reactivated, and failure to pay it – with interest, of course – would result in very painful and possibly fatal consequences.
Between the menace Simmons radiated and the two very large thugs in the room, Gomer had no choice but to immediately agree to Simmons' terms. Simmons' congratulatory slap on the back almost knocked him over, and the thugs escorted him to the door.
"Senna's coming out," Kate announces as Rick is about to dispense another round of coffee.
Rick gazes at the monitor. "He looks like he lost his best friend. Scratch that. I doubt that he has a best friend. But I'm guessing he lost his last nickel – and then some. You going to bring him in?"
"Not now," Kate decides. "We'll let him stew for a while, and I'll have him brought in tomorrow."
"Meaning later today?" Rick inquires.
"Yeah. I'll drop you at your loft, and we can both catch a few hours of sleep first."
"You know, Beckett," Rick says as Kate pulls up in front of his Broome Street address, "you don't have to drop me. You can come up for a little while and I can make us some eggs or something. From what I saw in your kitchen, you don't often make breakfast for yourself."
"Castle, I…." Kate's stomach rumbles.
Rick chuckles. "I think your midsection just gave its opinion on the subject."
"I guess it did," Kate concedes. "I'd love some eggs, Castle."
With a satisfied smile, Rick reaches for the van's door handle. "Excellent!"
"Castle, these are great," Kate says, generously filling her fork with a creamy scramble. "Growing up in a children's home, you couldn't have had much opportunity to hang out in a kitchen. How did you learn how to cook?"
"It wasn't so much a matter of how, as why," Rick explains. "After I sold In a Hail of Bullets to Black Pawn, they put me on a pretty tight schedule to get my next book out. I still had to get through my senior year in college, so I didn't have a whole lot of time, especially if I was going to get my research done. I couldn't google a lot of it like I can today. That meant a lot of hours in the library. So, even at the speed that I read, if I was going to get all my work done, I couldn't spend my time lining up in a dining hall or picking up fast food. The dorm had a little kitchen, and then when I got my own apartment, I had a bigger one. So I cooked, and I discovered I liked it. I could make things the way I wanted them instead of settling for 'two all-beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun.' I don't like onions on my cheeseburgers and I don't like sesame seeds on my buns. Don't get me started on food service eggs. It wasn't hard to pick up the basics. The library had plenty of cookbooks. And as my schedule loosened up a little, I enjoyed experimenting. I also picked up a recipe here and there on my book tours. Um, you want some more bacon?"
Kate consumes the last bite of a perfectly crisped rasher. "It's wonderful, but if I have any more, I'll have to spend an extra hour in the gym, and I'd rather spend it sleeping."
Rick yawns. "I get that."
Kate finishes the last of her eggs. "I should get out of here and let you sleep too. See you later at the 12th?"
"Count on it."
As the door closes behind Kate, Rick picks up their dishes to scrape and put in the dishwasher. He smiles to himself. Kate didn't leave a whole lot to scrape. Could the old saw about the stomach being the way to a man's heart apply to women as well? He doesn't see why not. With the pancakes, eggs, and his choice of breakfast burritos, he's three for three. He should be well-positioned to take the next step in a relationship with Beckett. Now he just has to figure out what the next step is.
With his hands tightly gripping the edge of the metal table, Gomer Senna gazes around Interrogation One. What he assumes is a female detective comes in. She's followed by a man he vaguely recognizes from somewhere, but he can't remember exactly where. "I don't understand why I'm here," he complains. "The officers who came to my campaign headquarters just said a Detective Beckett wants to speak to me."
"I'm Detective Beckett," Kate announces. "This is Mr. Castle, a civilian observer."
"We met at the Natural History Museum," Rick interjects.
"Oh, yeah, the writer," Gomer recalls. "Well, I have no idea what I can do for either one of you."
"Mr. Senna, you were observed patronizing an illegal gambling operation last night," Kate says.
"I was in no such place," Senna claims. "I was home in bed last night."
Kate opens a file folder and passes photographs of Gomer entering and leaving by the hidden door at Simmons' shop. His distress is obvious in the latter photo. "Doesn't look like it was your lucky night either. Care to try again?"
"All right, I was there." Gomer concedes. "But is this how the NYPD spends its time now? Tracking citizens just trying to have a little fun? Shouldn't you be trying to catch a murderer or something?"
"Actually, Mr. Senna, the gambling operation at which you apparently failed to reach your goal of a fun time, is connected to a more serious investigation," Kate explains. "And by associating yourself with the people involved, you are putting yourself into a dangerous position."
"Beckett, look at him," Rick says as a sheen of sweat forms on Gomer's forehead. "I believe our friend Mr. Senna here believes he's already in a dangerous position."
"Is that true, Mr. Senna?" Kate inquires. Senna presses his lips into a tight line. "Look, I can help you," Kate continues. "I can protect you. But you will have to cooperate with me. Were you threatened? Who threatened you?"
"It wouldn't by chance have been a fellow named Vulcan Simmons?" Rick offers.
Senna slumps in his seat. "Oh, God!"