Witless for the Prosecution
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: I do not own Castle, or anything by Agatha Christie. Rating: K Time: An AU future
"Richard Castle, you have been found guilty of the heinous crime of first-degree murder. You are to be hanged by the neck until you are dead. And may God have mercy on your soul." The judge said. "Take him away, hangman."
"Wait!" Rick cried out. "I get an appeal. I know I do."
"We're working on that right now." Said his attorney with a smile. "I'm sure your widow will be pleased with our work."
"Widow?" He screamed.
"We'll just handcuff your hands behind you, sir." Said the hangman. "And now the rope around your neck."
"Stop! Stop!" Rick yelled as he found himself on the gallows.
"Castle." A familiar voice called to him.
"Meredith, you have to stop this."
"Do you have the car keys, Rick? I have an appointment with the manicurist."
The trap was sprung, and he found himself dropping to eternity.
"Castle."
"Castle."
"CASTLE!" A voice roared.
He woke up and found himself staring into a furry face.
"What?" He said.
"Your wife has made bail for you." Said his furry cellmate. He turned around and Rick could read the writing on the back of his jacket: Hell's Vorlags Motorcycle Club.
"Good." Rick said with a sigh.
"We're both getting out of here."
"You're being released?"
"Yeah. Somehow all fourteen witnesses developed amnesia. But don't worry about a thing. When someone does a favor for Bone Crusher Vorlag, he doesn't forget a pal. I've got a lawyer lined up for you. The best. And they're free."
Rick decided that this wasn't the time to tell Bone Crusher what had really happened. A member of a rival gang, the Furry Assassins, had tried to stab Bone Crusher in the back. Trying to get out of the way, Rick had tripped and fallen against the assassin, knocking him down. Bone Crusher had done the rest.
Once out on the street, Meredith rushed to Rick.
"This is awful, Rick. How could anyone think you could kill that nice, old lady."
"Don't worry, lady." Said Bone Crusher. "I got the best lawyers in town lined up for your man. Nothing but the best for my pals. Now, get on the back of my chopper."
Bone Crusher led them to what looked to Rick like a speeder bike from Star Wars. Bone Crusher hopped on.
"You get behind me, Rick and your lady behind you, and hang on."
"To what?" Rick yelled.
As the bike sped away, Rick grabbed onto Bone Crusher and Meredith grabbed onto him. Rick peeked around Bone Crusher once only to see him headed straight for a bus. He kept his eyes closed after that.
They pulled up to a tall building in a very upscale part of town. Rick was beginning to be impressed with whoever Bone Crusher had picked to be his lawyer.
"Go all the way to the end of the elevator banks and take the one that goes straight to the top. They're expecting you."
And Bone Crusher roared off.
They arrived at the top and found themselves facing a large wooden door with the words, Dewey, Cheatum and Howe, Vorlags-at-Law, in bold golden letters. They went inside.
"May I help you?" Said a female Vorlag is a well tailored suit.
"I'm Rick Castle and this is…"
"We've been expecting you, Mr. Castle. Come this way, please. The partners are waiting for you."
They followed the female through a very impressive office until they came to a door.
"Go right in."
The female walked away.
They walked in and found three very well dressed Vorlags waiting for them.
"Please have a seat. I'm Dewey, this is Cheatum," he said pointing to his right, "And this is Howe. Please tell us a bit about yourselves. What you do for a living, for a start."
"I'm a novelist." Rick said.
"Anything we might have read?" Asked Dewey.
"Probably not. I wrote Murder on the Vorlag Express, but it only sold 481 copies. I know my mother bought 480 copies. I don't know who bought the other one."
"Anything else?" Asked Cheatum.
"I wrote The Mysterious Styles at Affairs. It was about a murder at a fashion show at a rather scandalous resort called Affairs. It sold 132 copies. My mother bought 130 and my wife bought one copy."
"I would have bought more, Ricky, but I bought that red dress that you just love on me."
"Any more books?" Asked Howe.
Rick shook his head.
"And you, Mrs. Castle?"
"I'm an actress. I was a corpse on Miami Vorlags and you could see my left shoulder on CSI: Vorlag.
"Perhaps you could tell us about your relationship with the deceased, Mrs. French?" Asked Cheatum
"I met her in the park near her home about two months ago. She was feeding peanuts to some squirrels, and she noticed I was arm wrestling one of them for a peanut. She asked if I was hungry, and I said I hadn't eaten for three days. She offered me the rest of the bag of peanuts. I broke down and cried."
"Ricky saved half of the bag for me." Meredith said.
"She saw that we were very hungry and took us to lunch. We got to talking and she turned out to be a fan of murder mysteries. We thanked her when lunch was over, thinking this would be the last we'd ever see of her, but she asked us to come to dinner at her home the next evening. We've been friends ever since."
"Both you and your wife always went together?" Asked Howe.
"A couple of times Meredith had an audition and a few times I was working on a story and didn't want to stop, but mainly we went together."
"Do you remember her housekeepers, Mrs. Attila MacVorlag?"
"Yes." Rick replied. "For some reason she hated us."
"Not for some reason, Rick. "Meredith said. "She thought we were going to take financial advantage of Mrs. French."
"Yes." Said Dewey, picking up a folder. "It seems that Mrs. French left you almost her entire estate. Investments worth some 800,000 Vorlag dollars, her home worth some 200,000 Vorlag dollars and her condo in South Beach worth another 200,000."
"We knew nothing about that." Rick said.
"Where were you on the night of the murder, Mr. Castle?"
"I had gone to Mrs. French's for dinner, but Meredith stayed home as she wasn't feeling well. I left at about nine fifteen and walked home. I arrived home at about nine twenty-five."
"You can confirm that, Mrs. Castle?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
The three Vorlags grinned, usually a frightening sight, but reassuring to Rick and Meredith.
"And what did you do when you heard of Mrs. French's death?"
"We went at once to the police to tell them what we knew."
However, Rick had been arrested for the murder of Mrs. French and before he knew it, his trial had begun.
"All rise." Cried the bailiff. "Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Y. S. Vorlag presiding."
The judge was the smallest Vorlag Rick had ever seen and the only Vorlag with bright red hair he'd ever seen. He even had a huge red mustache.
"All right." Yelled the judge. "Let's sentence this varmint and get on with the hanging."
"Bad luck." Dewey muttered to Rick. "We drew Judge Yosemite S. Vorlag, known as the hanging judge."
"Your Honor." Said a female voice. "The trial is just beginning. You can't sentence him now."
The judge glared at the woman.
"You sure about that?"
"Yes."
"More bad news." Dewey whispered to Rick. "The prosecutor is Katherine Beckett. She's never lost a case."
"She's spectacular." Rick whispered back.
"She's dangerous."
"The prosecution calls Dr. Joshua Davidson to the stand." Prosecutor Beckett said.
After being sworn in, the doctor began giving his testimony.
"You did the autopsy on the deceased?"
"Yes, I did."
"What were your findings?"
"Her legs were irretrievably broken, so I had to put her down. I used my old .44 Magnum to the head. She wasn't feeling lucky."
"What? You're confessing to murdering Mrs. French?" Said a shocked Kate Beckett.
"What? No. Of course not. Miss French ran in the third race at Pimlico. Paid 13.20 to show."
"Doctor, did you perform an autopsy on the human woman, Mrs. French?"
Dr. Davidson leafed through some papers.
"The name doesn't sound familiar. You should ask my assistant. She has a record of all of my work."
Dr. Davidson was excused and his assistant called to the stand and called in.
"Your name, please?" Asked Kate Beckett.
"Jacinda Bewbs."
"Do you have a record of the autopsy done by Dr. Davidson on Mrs. French?"
"It's right here." She held up a sheaf of papers.
"Will you read them, please?"
"Me: Keep your hands off me."
"Dr. D. "Just a little feel, baby."
"Me: Touch me again there and I'll scream."
"Dr. D.: You know you want me."
"Me: Like the bubonic plague."
"Could you go ahead to the autopsy?" Kate demanded.
Jacinda looked through the sheaf of papers. Kate noticed that she moved her lips as she read.
"I'm sorry. There's nothing about an autopsy here. But Dr. Parish came in while we were…busy. Maybe she knows something."
Dr. Lanie Parish was called to the stand and sworn in.
"Dr. Parish…" Kate began.
"He's a real hottie, sweetie. You should get to know him."
"Dr. Parish!" Kate said, scandalized. "He's a murderer."
"So? You could use a bad boy in your life."
"I do not need your help with my love life." Kate screamed.
"I'm just saying."
"Could we get back to the trial?" Judge Y.S. Vorlag said, toying with a small noose.
"Did you do an autopsy on the deceased, Mrs. French?"
"Yes, I did."
"Can you tell me the cause of her death?"
"A blow to the left temple with a blunt object, probably a cosh, also called a blackjack."
"Blackjack?" Cried the judge. "You were playing cards, a gambling game, during the autopsy?"
"A blackjack is another name for a cosh, Your Honor." Kate explained.
But Judge Y.S. Vorlag had lost interest. He was busy putting his noose onto a miniature gallows.
"In your opinion, wouldn't a blow to the left temple be delivered by a right-handed person, such as the defendant?"
"Yes."
"Were you able to arrive at a time of death?"
"Considering liver temperature and all other factors, death occurred between nine and ten at night."
"Thank you, Dr. Parish. No further questions."
"Think about what I said, sweetie. He's hot."
"That's all Doctor Parish!" Kate screamed.
Dewey rose to cross exam Dr. Parish.
"You said that the lethal blow to the left temple would have been delivered by a right-handed person, correct?"
"That's my testimony."
"But wouldn't that mean that the killer and the victim were necessarily facing each other?"
"Yes." Lanie said, frowning.
"So if a right-handed person, such as my client, was standing behind the victim, the fatal blow would have been to the right temple, is that not so?"
"Yes."
"And a left-handed person delivering such a killing blow from the rear, the injury would be to the left temple."
"Yes."
"No further questions."
"The prosecution calls Acting Temporary Supernumerary Provisional Constable Thomas Demming."
Demming was sworn in.
"How long have you been a police officer?" Kate asked.
"Twenty-seven years come May."
"That's a very long time." Kate said, feeling unsure of this witness.
"Tell me."
"When you arrived at the crime scene, what did you notice?"
"The person I spoke to was very uncooperative. She wouldn't say a word. She just laid there on the floor, saying nothing."
"Are you talking about Mrs. French?" Kate asked.
"She never gave me her name."
"She's the victim. She was dead."
"Aha!" Said Acting Temporary Supernumerary Provisional Constable Thomas Demming. "That confirms my suspicions."
"And they were?"
"Some sort of crime had been committed."
Kate gritted her teeth and went on.
"In the police report it was noted that the window was broken. It was too small for someone to gain access to the house, but perhaps someone wanted to make it look like there had been a break in?"
"Objection." Said Cheatum. "Calls for a conclusion by the witness."
"Sustained, I suppose." The Judge grumped.
But Demming answered anyway.
"Oh, no. The window somehow got broken while I was trying to find my favorite show on the Television. I couldn't find The Six Little Bunny-Wunnies anywhere. The television was already on, so I didn't see any harm."
"The Six Little Bunny-Wunnies?" Kate asked.
"I love that show, but sometimes I don't follow the sophisticated humor."
"It's a show for pre-schoolers." Kate muttered.
Demming nodded. If you were close enough, you could hear his brain rattling around.
"Thank you. The prosecution calls Detective Chief Inspector Victoria Gates.
Gates was sworn in.
"Detective Chief Inspector Gates. When you arrived at the French home, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"
"Of course I did." Gates screamed. "We've been trying for years to potty train him with no success. Did you have to bring that up? Isn't it bad enough that the crime scene cleanup people will take care of any amount of blood, brains and gore, but won't go near a crime scene he's been at?"
"That's not what I was referring to." Kate said gently. "Did you notice anything about the deceased's jewelry?"
"She was wearing a diamond ring and a diamond necklace."
"Did the police have those appraised?"
"Yes. The ring was worth about five thousand Vorlag dollars, retail, and the necklace was appraised at fifteen thousand."
"In your experience as a police officer, isn't it unusual for a thief to enter a house and walk away from some twenty thousand dollars?"
"Yes, I can't say that I've ever heard of such a thing before."
"But if the thief expected to inherit the jewelry…" Kate began.
"Objection!" All three Vorlag defense attorneys shot to their feet.
"Withdrawn." Kate said quickly.
Howe leaned over and whispered in Rick's ear.
"She's clever. Even though she had to withdraw that remark, she got the idea in the jury's minds."
"The prosecution has no further questions for this witness."
Dewey rose and walked towards Detective Chief Inspector Victoria Gates.
"You said you had never in all your experience as a police officer seen a case where the assailant left with so much money just laying there. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Allow me to refresh your memory about the case of Gina Cowell, a case you are intimately familiar with."
"I object to the term intimately!" Screamed Gates. "No one saw a thing! You can't prove anything. That stripper pole could have been used by anyone!"
"My apologies." Dewey said smoothly. "I'll just say you were part of the investigation. However, didn't the assailant flee once she realized that the blow that she had only intended to stun the victim, had in fact killed her? Thus, leaving behind a fortune in bear bonds?"
"Excuse me." Said Kate Beckett, "But shouldn't that be bearer bonds?"
"No." Replied Dewey. "The bonds were in support of a project to arm bears based on some odd reading of the laws of some planet the name of which I can't recall."
"Well, yes." Gates said. "I suppose the guilty party could have panicked once he realized he'd killed Mrs. French."
"Or she could have panicked." Dewey said.
Gates muttered something affirmative.
"No further questions."
TBC