Finding the Fit Chapter 5
Rick is surprised that his tour begins on a ship rather than a plane but soon realizes why The Company induced Black Pawn to plan it that way. On the deck, in the dining room, the gym, and even the casino, Rick has plenty of chances to interact with passengers. Aboard this "Meet the Authors" cruise, there are people from all over the world. Many of them have never heard of him except from the promotional materials. There are bigger draws on board including a romance author whose sales dwarf his. However, while many of the women flock to hear her every word, bored husbands, and women with a taste for more excitement turn to Richard Castle to provide their adrenaline rush. They show up to his readings and seek him out at the ship's multiple bars and lounges.
The writer finds this behavior especially pervasive in one man in particular. The fellow claims to be from Australia, but the subtle differences in his vowels, which Rick has been so carefully instructed to detect, proclaim that the man spent a lot of time in Eastern Europe. Of course, that doesn't make him a spy. He may just be truncating his personal history. But Rick's readers are usually enthusiastic about sharing life details like that, so it is a bit suspicious. Following the guidelines that Agent Turner made sure were drilled into his head, he encourages the contact, as intrusively discomfiting as it becomes. He also activates the digital recorder in his pocket during their conversations. If there's anything there, the CIA analysts can dig for it.
On the last night of the voyage, Rick performs his final reading. All the tables are filled with passengers enjoying drinks, snacks, and desserts while he regales them with a lively tale. Rick notes, however, that the admirer who had dogged his footsteps is missing. He guesses that the man may have had a few too many and is sleeping it off. The other passengers seem interested enough, however. Rick is thoroughly immersed in his task when the ship's captain apologizes for interrupting but explains that a minor emergency has occurred. The room's occupants are to stay put even after the author finishes until the crew can get matters sorted out. Amid murmurs, he quietly instructs Rick to pick up where he left off and stretch things out as long as he can. Rick spots Agent Turner standing in the back of the room, some of her assets disguised under a colorful caftan. She gives him predetermined hand signals that something unexpected is going down, but to continue with the reading.
When Rick returns to his cabin after getting the all clear to leave the gathering, he finds Agent Turner sitting on his bed. He backward straddles the chair bolted down near his small writing desk. "What happened?"
"The steward was delivering a bottle of vodka to your new friend. When he didn't answer the door, the steward used a master key to enter and found the occupant dead," Turner recounts.
"And how do you know all of that?" Rick queries. "As if I should ask."
"I'm guessing you already know the answer, Rick, or you should. When the man started showing too much interest in you, I bugged his cabin. I also lifted his fingerprints from his comb and a DNA sample from his toothbrush. I transmitted the prints attached to an encrypted text and sent the DNA off during the brief stop we made at the last port. There aren't any matches on file."
"Which would be suspicious because the intelligence database covers just about everyone, especially if they're disposed to international travel," Rick offers.
"Exactly, Rick. You learned well. Whoever this guy was, it wasn't who he claimed."
"So how did he die?" Rick wonders. "The way he drank, my money would be on liver failure."
A smile plays on Turner's lips. "He might have died that way eventually if he hadn't been killed tonight. But according to what the ship's doctor told the captain, it looked like he was poisoned. That's why the crew put a lid on everything while they moved the body. They're going to keep it on ice until they can turn it over to officials when we make port again."
"But who would murder him and why do it on board?" Rick wonders. "Why not wait until he disembarks and make it look like some random killing?"
"I don't know, Rick, but I'm guessing it was because he was attaching himself to you. If he appeared to be a Castle groupie, it would make sense for him to follow you on your tour, including to some of the special audiences you'll be getting."
"So you think he was an assassin? If you were in his cabin to bug it, did you find weapons or something?"
"Not a thing," Turner admits. "But he could have had a drop or multiple drops where he could stash what he needed."
"But at the same time, the killer managed to bring poison on board," Rick figures. "It wouldn't have been hard to put it in a shampoo bottle or medication vial. Or he might have employed a deadly agent already on the ship: a cleaning solution or perhaps something from Sick Bay. According to the literature about the cruise, the doctor has a pretty well-stocked pharmacy – handy when you're out in the middle of the ocean. Someone could have stolen enough of a drug for an overdose or mixed meds that aren't supposed to mix."
"Very good, Rick! That wasn't in your binders."
Rick quirks an eyebrow. "Agent Turner, I do write mystery stories. Murder methods are my stock and trade."
"I see," Turner replies thoughtfully. "And if you were writing your groupie's murder, how would you have the killer commit it?"
"Well, the victim was a heavy drinker, but spiking his drink would be too straightforward for most of my readers. I'd probably go with something he'd eat or, better yet, use because of his drinking. I could have him attempt to minimize the physical signs of his overindulgence. Chemicals are absorbed very rapidly through the eyes and can go straight into the bloodstream. I'd make the murderer poison the victim's eyedrops and let him kill himself."
"He did have a bottle of eyedrops in his bathroom," Turner recalls.
"I don't suppose you could swipe it for your pals at The Company to analyze?" Castle asks.
Turner shakes her head. "Of course I could, Rick. But I can't get it to one of our labs until we're off the ship, and it would be in transit too long before they could even attempt analysis. It would be much easier to put a subtle whisper in the ear of whoever does the postmortem and then get the results. But in the meantime, we have a murderer on board, and we don't know whom they're working for or why. If they were protecting someone you are going to meet during your travels, then they'll probably stay with us. We'll have to be aware of anyone from the ship who continues to follow your tour."
"You don't think they'd be after me, do you?" Rick questions.
"Not until they follow you into wherever they want to go. That would defeat the purpose. Still, once they've accomplished their mission, anything's possible."
Rick leans his forehead on the chairback. "Great!"
Rising from her spot on his bed, Turner lays her hand on his arm. "Don't worry Rick. We've invested too much in you as an asset to lose you now. I'll protect you."
He looks up. "You'll protect The Company's asset. That's very comforting."