Papa Jack Chapter 30

Noting Beckett's empty desk, Richard runs toward Observation as fast as he can go without bowling over anyone on the periphery of the bullpen. He takes a spot at the glass next to Roy Montgomery. "Has she started yet?"

Montgomery keeps his eyes fixed on the room beyond. "The fingerprints came back from the FBI two minutes ago. She just got in there."

"How about the lab report on the ring?" Richard queries.

"Not in yet, but," Montgomery points at the van driver, "he doesn't know that."

As Beckett pulls folders out of a black zip-up leather file holder, Richard studies the occupants of Interrogation. "Who's the guy in the $10,000 suit?"

"Jonas Burke, defense attorney. He takes clients who like to stay below the radar and aren't afraid to spend money to do it. Fingerprints identify his present client as William Buttridge."

Rolling his eyes, Richard lets out a breathy whistle. "He must have had an interesting time on the playground growing up."

"He's been no prize as an adult. The feds picked him up in New Jersey for transporting stolen cars across state lines. He claimed he didn't know they were stolen and had bogus bills of sale. The prosecution wasn't sure they could prove he knew the paperwork was phony, so they offered him a plea, probation, and a minor fine. As soon as he was off probation, they lost track of him."

"Someone wanted to make further use of his transportation talents," Richard observes. "Oh, she's starting."

Kate taps her fingertips against a file. "Mr. Buttridge…."

"You can call me Bill," Buttridge interrupts.

"Mr. Buttridge," Kate repeats, "You have been driving a van used to transport expensive stolen goods – very expensive stolen goods. We already have a witness that will testify to your receipt of them. And as I'm sure your lawyer can inform you, your penalty depends not only on the dollar values pegging your offenses as part of a conspiracy to commit multiple grand larcenies but on how many offenses you committed. We can tie you to a lot of them."

"I'm just a messenger," Buttridge claims. "I have no way of knowing anything is stolen. I just deliver it."

Kate nods. "Sounds just like what you told the feds about the stolen cars you hauled. But, unfortunately for you, Mr. Buttridge, we have more evidence than the feds did – and you were wearing it."

Buttridge pulls at his collar. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" Kate flips through a folder. "Let me refresh your memory." She holds up a photograph. "This ring, Mr. Buttridge. It matches the rings of two other suspects."

"Anyone can wear a ring," Burke interjects. "It's irrelevant to any charges against my client."

"The ring on its own, perhaps," Kate allows, "but not the traces of wax on the ring, wax used to seal and identify shipments not only of stolen goods but of illegal drugs. That wax contains a rare and unusual pigment. It also ties your client to robbery-homicides."

"Wait! I didn't kill nobody!" Buttridge protests.

"Don't say anything else!" Burke commands. "Look, Detective, you don't really want my client. If there was a conspiracy, and I'm not acknowledging that there was, he would be a small fry. We both know what you really want is whoever would be at the top – if there is a top. As of now, Mr. Buttridge will be answering no more questions unless and until we have a deal guaranteeing protection and no prison time."

Richard turns to Montgomery. "This is beginning to sound repetitive."

"This is how it's done, Castle," Montgomery explains. "You start at the bottom of the food chain and move up until you get to the top. As soon as the lab results on that wax come back, I'll call Ms. Gonzalez. She and Burke can fight it out."

"And what's Beckett supposed to do until then?"

"Get some food. Get some rest and prepare for the next step. If you're going to stay on her heels, that wouldn't be a bad idea for you either, Castle."

Richard stares through the glass. "On 'Law and Order,' the case would be in court by now.

Montgomery steps away from the glass. "Welcome to real life, Castle."

Seeking some revival from the cool air on his face, Richard surveys the contents of his refrigerator. When he's on a writing binge, he hates to break the flow by having to go out or even order in. So he keeps his fridge and his larder well stocked with quickly preparable meals and snacks. Unfortunately, at the moment, nothing looks appealing. He invited Beckett to go for a bite, but she said she wanted to write up her notes while they were fresh in her mind and then go home. Whatever magnetic force he feels while in her company doesn't appear to be mutual, or maybe she is too immersed in the case to feel anything else. He can hope it's the latter.

Finally, Richard settles for piling some pre-sliced roast beef on a Kaiser roll, pairing the sandwich with some chips, and taking the plate and a mug of coffee into his office. He's got notes of his own to type up and work to do for his next book. Black Pawn's hungry maw requires constant feeding. He loves to write but could do without the f*ing contracts.

A chill breeze flows freely from the empty shelves of Kate's refrigerator. She'd meant to go grocery shopping at least four times within the last couple of weeks but somehow never had the opportunity. Magnets attach take-out and delivery menus to most of the available space on the door of the appliance, but she doesn't feel like coping with any of them. Somehow, when Castle's around, there's always something satisfying to smell and taste and yet be able to get her work done. The work also goes faster with Castle around. He can't do anything about putting a rush on lab work. Sometimes, Lanie can help with that. But Castle seems to smooth the path for almost everything else. Until now, with both head and stomach protesting, she hadn't realized how much. Unfortunately, at this moment, there's not a damn thing she can do about it. She's not sure what she can do about it at any other moment, either. A loud rumble emerges from below the waist of her slacks.

Kate pulls open the freezer and grabs a half-eaten pint of Rocky Road. Ice crystals on the surface of what's left of the confection testify to how long it's been ignored, but it's better than nothing. Some chocolate sauce might disguise the taste of the freezer burn – except that she doesn't have any. She'd love to make coffee, but she's out of filters.

While proud of making detective so early in her NYPD career, Kate realizes that her life as a patrol cop was a lot more organized. She knew, most of the time, anyway, when she'd be on duty and off duty. She could find time to stop at the market and eat her purchases while they were still edible. She even found time for yoga and occasionally picking up her guitar. Despite the outstretched hands of her captain and Castle, the quicksand of obsession is threatening to drag her under. She can't let it happen. She has to grab onto something or someone. Could that someone be Castle? She wishes she knew.