Now What? Chapter 17
Luca Sabalini sprawls in a chair across from Kate and a fidgety Rick. "So me and Burns argued. So what? It's a free country."
"Free speech doesn't cover death threats, Mr. Sabalini," Kate informs him.
"Or murder," Rick adds.
"I told you I was home last night," Sabalini argues.
Kate pulls a sheet from her folder. "Your wife disagrees. According to her statement, she remembers you sneaking out before midnight when you thought she was asleep."
Sabalini slaps his palm on the table. "Damn bitch is always faking sleeping. I've gotta get mine somewhere."
"And your wife knows where," Kate continues. "I quote, 'He was off to see that c* of a mistress in Flatbush.' And when she confronted you about it in the morning, you said you went into the city because the store's alarm was going off."
"Not according to the alarm company." Rick inserts.
"So, who were you lying to, Luca?" Kate demands. "Me or your wife?"
Luca sighs. "My wife. I was with Angie. You can ask her."
Kate taps her fingernails against black leather. "I could. That doesn't mean I'd believe her. What were you and Burns fighting about?"
"He was gonna write something about my pizza that would ruin me, destroy everything I worked for."
"You just gave yourself a motive," Rick points out.
"What was he going to write?" Kate demands.
Luca points at the microphone. "You gotta turn that off."
"If you killed him, hiding what you do with your pizza won't help you. But all right." Kate flicks a switch.
"He was gonna write about what keeps my fat-free pizza from tasting like sh*t. I don't use fat-free cheese. I use the real stuff. There's nothing fat-free about it."
Rick exchanges incredulous glances with Kate. "You were going to kill for that?"
"It's an expression!" Luca protests. "Besides, Burns called me last night. He said he'd consider not running it if I did him a favor."
"What favor?" Rick probes.
"He didn't say. He was supposed to stop by today to talk about it."
"Did he say where he was calling from?" Rick asks.
"No, but the call's on my cell. You cops should be able to do whatever you do with it."
Ryan looks up from his computer. "The call came from…."
"The Hotel Haft," Rick interjects.
"Yeah, at 50th and Seventh," Ryan confirms. "How did you know, Castle?"
"Burns had a long association with the place and it's also the only corner in the area with a payphone. I figured out that's where he called Shaw from." Rick's annoyance is evident as he turns to Kate. "I figured it out before we started questioning Sabalini. Can we go there and look for Burns' notes now?"
"I'm still going to hold Sabalini," Kate decides. "But all right, Castle. Let's go."
After a bellman opens the room, Rick rereads a handwritten record from the desk clerk. "If anyone asked, the room was supposed to be occupied by an H. Melville. Figures. Melville was one of Burns' favorite authors. But Burns was definitely flying under the radar."
Kate points at the bed. "Castle, there's a laptop."
Rick grabs the computer and flips it open.
"Is it password protected?" Kate asks.
"Of course," Rick replies as he types in characters. The screen comes to life.
"How did you know the password?" Kate asks.
"I picked the name of the most important person in his life, his daughter, Nina."
"How did you know her name, Castle?"
"It was written across the picture she was coloring the day Burns signed my book. Anyway, I'm in. Ha! This is so like him. He uses an open-source writing program instead of delivering any lucre to Gates' evil empire. OK, this is his most recent file. Hell! This isn't an exposé. It's the puff piece he was supposed to be writing for Shaw. It's all about pizza. Wait! According to the last save, he stopped writing this three days ago. That must be when he started on the real story. I remember that he did his stories the way I used to do mine, written out longhand. I used composition books. He must have had something like that, a notebook, maybe." Rick shoves his hand under a pillow. "Aha! Here it is. There are some notes. Still some pizza recipes, but then he wrote 'Secret menu' underlined with exclamation points, and there's an appointment: 4/3 10 pm, 212-555-0222. There are some names here, too."
"That's last night, and the number's in the city," Kate notes. "He was meeting with someone local."
Rick drops the notebook on the bed. "It's probably the last meeting he had before he was murdered."
Kate pulls out her phone. "I'm going to run down that number."
While Kate is using a reverse lookup app, Rick picks up the notepad again. "Johnny Farrell, Swede Andersen, how do I know those names?"
"I don't know, Castle," Kate says, holding up her phone. "This is a photo of the woman with that phone number. Do you recognize her?"
"That's the woman in the picture in Burns' wallet."
"Bingo! Her name is Monica Wyatt. And if she met with him last night, she may have been the last person to see him alive."
"Yeah," Rick agrees grimly. "I wonder if they went out for pizza."
Rick notes the high-grade carpeting and unscarred paint in the hallway leading to Monica's apartment. "A little upscale for the pizza world, unless she's a middleman for a money laundering operation transferring money out of the country into accounts in the names of Johnny Farrell and Swede Andersen."
"Or the real estate agent she claims to be," Kate says.
"What would Burns be doing with a real estate agent?" Rick questions. "He could barely afford his no-frills apartment."
A well-turned-out forty-ish Monica Wyatt opens her door in response to Kate's knock. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Detective Kate Beckett. This is Mr. Castle. We're investigating the death of Gordon Burns. May we come in?" Kate asks.
Tears quickly come to Monica's eyes. "Gordon is dead?"
"I'm very sorry," Kate says softly. "But you obviously knew him, and we really need to talk to anyone who can give us insight into what happened."
"Yes, of course," Monica agrees. "Please come in."
Monica gestures Kate and Rick to seats on a couch he estimates must have cost at least $10,000. Monica sits nearby in a matching chair. "How did you find me?" Kate hands her an evidence bag containing the picture from Burns' wallet. "I can't believe he still had this. He actually took this on our first date."
"How long were the two of you together?" Kate asks.
"Just a couple of months. But God, this had to have been three years ago." Monica hands the bag back to Kate. "I saw him once or twice after his daughter's accident. But he was different, like he had just drifted away."
"What made you see him last night?" Rick asks.
Monica shakes her head. "I-I didn't see him last night."
"According to his notes, he met up with you at 10 pm," Kate says.
"That wasn't a meeting, that was a date," Monica insists, "and he never showed."
Rick feels a niggle at the back of his mind. "You said you hadn't seen him in years. How did you end up on a date?"
"We bumped into each other on the street the other day. It was weird because it was down in The Village, and I never go down there, and he said he doesn't go down there either, but he was working on a story."
"Did he tell you what it was about?" Kate asks.
Monica swipes at her eyes. "No."
"How did he seem? Worried? Distressed?" Rick queries.
"He seemed like himself, his old self like he was on to something. He said he had just come from the Hall of Records and found something he was excited about."
"The Hall of Records?" Kate repeats.
"Yeah."
"Ms. Wyatt, do the names Swede Anderson or Johnny Farrell mean anything to you?" Rick asks.
"I can't say they do," Monical replies.
Kate gets to her feet. "Thank you, Ms. Wyatt, and I'm very sorry for your loss."
"It's a loss to the world," Monica declares.
"That it is," Rick agrees.
"Beckett," Rick says as he and Kate return to her unit, "Monica's story doesn't track."
"What do you mean, Castle?"
"The way he wrote down their 'date.' He had the time and phone number but no name. Who doesn't use their date's name? And the picture. There was no name and date on it like a guy would do for a keepsake. And if he kept the picture of Monica in his wallet out of love, why wasn't there one of Nina? And that's another thing. As close as he was to Nina, if he and Monica dated, she would have at least been acquainted with the little girl and used her name. She talked about her the way one talks about a stranger. And one more thing."
"What's that, Castle?"
"I was brought up by an actress. I know bad faked crying when I see it. The little sniffs Monica put in wouldn't have made it past a first audition. If there was something between her and Gordon, it wasn't amorous."
"Maybe, Castle. But even if you're right, that doesn't put us any closer to who killed him."
"Damn! If I could only place Johnny Farrell and Swede Anderson."
"If there really is something about those names, Castle, sooner or later it will pop out of your factoid-filled brain."
"Sooner would be better."