Papa Jack Chapter 26
"Where did you get the car?" Richard asks Kate, who is wearing a blonde wig and large sunglasses, when she picks him up in a badly dented Lincoln Continental.
"Impound yard. It was hit when the driver was running a red light," Kate explains.
Richard carefully climbs into the passenger seat. "Was anyone hurt?"
"Minor injuries. The airbags deployed. But the driver got an expensive citation and will be responsible for the damage to both cars."
"His insurance company is going to love that," Richard opines, shaking his head. "So what's the plan?"
"We take this thing in to be fixed. I tell a sob story about the insurance company refusing my claim and offer to pay cash for extra fast service. And while they're fixing the car, I get to see who's coming and going, maybe take a look around."
"Where'd you get the cash?"
"Montgomery authorized the dispersal. He remembers all the kids Vulcan Simmons' dealers hooked, from when he was a patrol cop. I think if we can finally get something to stick to Simmons, the captain would hoist a few. And if it leads to solving the robbery homicides, even better."
"So, if Old Denty here is supposed to be your car, what do you want me to do?"
"You're a business associate who is trying to get me back to the office to close some deal as soon as possible. Even if you look familiar to someone, that will still work.
Richard's brows wriggle gleefully. "Which will give me an excuse to pace around so I can get a better look at what's going on."
"Actually, I was hoping you could act impatient enough to pace around outside the shop so you can help me check out whoever is coming and going. Just how impatient can you look?"
"As impatient as you want. I think I have an acting gene or two. I did a few school plays in my time. I wasn't bad. And sometimes, I act out the characters in my books to get a better feel for how they'll behave, so I'm in practice."
"I hope so, Castle."
"My shoe leather will thin at my impatient pacing."
"Really, that light was yellow," Kate insists. "I was just doing what everyone does, rushing through before it turned red. But the police didn't believe me, and my insurance company doesn't either."
The service manager nods. "Yeah, I hear that a lot. So, how are you going to pay for this?"
Kate opens her purse, revealing a wad of bills. "Oh, I've got cash. But," she points to a fidgeting Richard, my client is in a big hurry to get a deal done. I really need to get the car fixed now. So," Kate smiles, "I'd be willing to pay any upcharge for a rush job."
The service manager eyes the money. "We're just finishing up a job. I'll get you in next."
Kate's smile widens. "Thanks. I really appreciate that."
"I need some air," Richard loudly announces to Kate as she takes a seat in the waiting area.
"Sure, fine," she agrees. "I'm gonna see if they've got some coffee around here somewhere. You go ahead."
With rapid strides, Richard exits through a metal door near the car bays and surveys the area around the repair shop. There's a sidewalk, but apparently, no one has been in a hurry to repair the cracked cement. Like many areas in New York City, businesses occupy ground floors of buildings, with several floors of apartments above. Garbage cans, many of them overflowing, line the curb – except in front of the body shop. While others on the block have to wait for the Department of Sanitation trucks to get around to them, the shop probably can afford private trash pickups. He wonders what else gets picked up.
Richard figures that his impatience would look more convincing if he was smoking a cigarette, but he's never smoked. He's never even wanted to try a puff. Since his father doesn't smoke, he was never around tobacco much, and when he got his first whiff of cigarette smoke, the smell made him nauseous. He's avoided smokers as much as possible. When the state banned smoking in bars a couple of years back, unlike some of his fellow writers, he couldn't have been happier. To complete his act, he fingers coins in his pockets and tugs at his shirt collar. Walking up and down the block, He always keeps the body shop in sight. He's rewarded by seeing a man walk into an alley at the side of the building and disappear through a door.
The woman in the glassed-in cashier's booth points Kate toward a coffee urn on a counter at the far end of the waiting area. The detective fills a Styrofoam cup with the murky brew, adds the contents of two powdered creamer packets, and uses a plastic stir stick to try to dissolve it into the liquid. She almost succeeds, leaving a few speckles on top. If Vulcan Simmons has drug money, he isn't spending it on perks for customers – at least not car repair customers. From the counter, she can feel a slight rush of air and hears a creaking of hinges. Someone is coming in a door somewhere close. From where she is, she can't see anyone, and she has no way to get around the counter. But she hears footsteps and a muffled greeting.
Richard couldn't get a good look at the body's shop's visitor on his way in, but is hoping he might have better luck if the man makes an exit. While keeping up his pacing, he stays closer to the building, ready to spot someone emerging. Though only 45 minutes, it seems like – especially to Richard's feet – hours before the man reappears. He gets as close as he can without interrupting the flow of his studied pacing. A ring! The man is wearing a ring that, at least from a few feet away, looks like John Doe's seal ring. Richard makes a show of stumbling on the uneven cement, almost crashing into the ring-wearer."
"Hey man, watch out!" Richard's target objects.
"Yeah, sorry, man," Richard replies, managing to get a good look at the ring. It is a seal ring!
The mystery visitor gets into a vintage Cadillac parked down the block. Richard can only make out part of the license plate, but for a car like that, a partial may be enough to get an ID. Footsore but buoyed by his discovery, he returns to the inside of the body shop to check in with Beckett.
"Castle, I've got an ID on the plate," Kate announces, returning the receiver of her desk phone to its cradle. "It's registered to a Lionel Marcus. His listed address is on 154th Street in Harlem."
"That's just one block over the line from Washington Heights," Richard notes. "Handy location for dealing and for access to his supplier."
Kate's keyboard clicks under her fingers. "Marcus has a rap sheet. That gives me an excuse to question him."
"You going to go see him?" Richard asks. "I can't go, he'd recognize me."
"I'll have some uniforms bring him in." Kate winks. "Detective's privilege. You can watch from Observation while I question him."
Richard smacks his hands together. "Great! I'll make popcorn."