Papa Jack Chapter 69

"Look," Richard says, his fingers curled around a red dry-erase marker, "according to Kathy Reddinger's report, there are three knife producers that are the most prominent victims of counterfeiting: Wütsthof, Shun, and Zwilling. These producers continue to lose sales but are prestigious enough to survive. There are, however, some up-and-coming companies less able to withstand the unfair competition. Three of these are Sure Slice, Chef's Edge, and Incom-Parable. Get it? Incom-Parable. Paring knives? Nevermind. My point is that if Eric Donnelly was investigating knife counterfeiting, his killer might be linked to one of these companies or one like them."

"Hang on a minute, Castle," Ryan requests, grabbing the case file from his desk. "Right. I thought I remembered! The knives still left in the block in Donnelly's kitchen were from Chef's Edge."

"Then Chef's Edge is the place to look for a link to Eric Donnelly's killer. Have you guys come up with any suspects?"

"We only have two suspects who talked to him the morning he was killed," Esposito says, "Melissa Jergen and Lorna Charles. At Melissa Jergen's suggestion, Lorna Charles ran with him in the park closest to his apartment, but Lorna came to the park in her car and left the same way. We checked the footage from the parking lot. According to Lorna, Donnelly left the park on foot."

"Would either of these ladies have a connection with Chef's Edge?" Castle inquires.

"I don't see how," Esposito retorts. "They both trade stocks all day."

"A company looking to expand would sell stock," Ryan points out. "If it succeeds, an investor getting in on the ground floor could make a killing."

"Or get killed," Esposito counters grimly.

"I'm guessing someone took a bad enough bath to want revenge. If I were a perceptive detective like you two gentlemen, I'd see if either of those ladies traded edgy stocks. I will leave you to it," Richard says, replacing his marker on the whiteboard's ledge. "I have another research session with Beckett this afternoon, and I have to prepare."

"Prepare what?' Esposito demands.

"Brain food, of course," Richard declares, "to fuel curiosity and spur the imagination."

As the elevator doors close on Richard, Esposito shakes his head."He makes it sound more like they're going to bed than hunching over a computer together."

Ryan shrugs. "Writers are strange. But Beckett's a beautiful woman – not as gorgeous as Jenny. But I can't blame Castle for wanting to cozy up to her, even if it is in front of a computer screen. And from what I've seen of Beckett so far, she can't stand not being busy with something."

"Yeah, you've got her number," Esposito agrees. "I guess working with Castle is better than nothing."

Before leaving to pick up Kate, Richard starts a fresh pot of coffee and sets out a plate of dark chocolate-dipped cookies he's noticed that she favors. Typically, the trip would take only a few minutes, but for some reason, he seems to be hitting every light. Often, he can take advantage of his time in traffic to dream up new directions for his stories. But right now, he just wants to get where he's going.

Finally, Richard's car approaches the building where Kate has her apartment. It has no parking of its own. In New York City, private parking is a rare and generally expensive luxury. Richard considers his Broome Street loft lucky to have it. Still, the building housing Kate's place is situated on a corner, so he can look for parking places in perpendicular directions. That's slow-going as well, especially for a spot large enough to accommodate his STS. By the time he knocks on Kate's door, it's almost 2:30 PM.

Kate's expression on opening the door holds only partially veiled distress. "I wasn't sure you were coming."

Richard offers a rueful smile. "Traffic and parking, the Big Apple double whammy. But why wouldn't I come?"

"I don't know. You seemed all caught up in the boys' case. I thought you might keep working on it."

"I think I gave them enough to work with for now, and it's a lot more fun working with you. So, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure. I just need to get my coat."

Richard points to Kate's unaccustomedly bare feet. "Not that your lower digits aren't lovely, but shoes wouldn't hurt."

Kate giggles. "You've never tried wearing spike heels."

"Actually, I did once when I was acting out a character who – never mind. Sneakers?"

"Sneakers," Kate agrees.

"Richard makes sure coffee and cookies are close enough for Kate to easily reach before settling behind his keyboard. "So, the department shrink you were telling me about, he reminded Mike Royce of Worf?"

"Just his voice and his general appearance. It's not like he had a bat'leth on his wall. He wasn't violent or anything. Mike said he was almost too calm. A man like Mike prefers a little more excitement."

"What was his name?"

"Carver Burke, I think, Dr. Carver Burke."

"Carver?" Unless I want Nikki's shrink to keep body parts in his basement, I can't go with a name like that. I could go in the opposite direction. Ooh! How about a take-off on Dr. Ruth? She could be a tiny dynamo who, like a seer, sees into Nikki's soul. We can call her Shipton, Dr. Ursula Shipton."

"After Mother Shipton, the soothsayer and prophetess in English folklore?" Kate asks.

Richard grins in admiration. "Exactly, except that this Shipton won't be a hideous hunchback with bulging eyes. She'll be a sweet little old lady who hits Nikki with the truth when she least expects it."

"The truth about how she feels about Rook?" Kate asks.

Beneath his desk, Richard's fingertips dig into his knees. "Maybe. I'll have to see how the story develops. There are some things Rook can't hurry – no matter how much he wants to."

Kate moistens her suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

Richard smacks his palm against his desk. "Well, I think that's enough Nikki for now. For a winter day, it isn't that frigid. You feel up to taking a walk?"

"Might as well. The doctor wants me to get my steps in every day as long as I don't take them too fast."

"We can keep it to a casual stroll. A new hotdog vendor just set up at the end of the next block to catch the foot traffic from the high-end boutiques that recently opened there. I suppose his theory is that after the customers have finished shopping, all they can afford is a hotdog. Want to give one a try?"

"After the cookies you gave me?"

"Protein to go with the carbs," Richard declares, "although I have no idea what kind of protein goes into those franks."

"It's probably better we don't know, Castle," Kate opines.

"You're probably right. And there isn't much you can't hide under enough condiments. Ooh! Maybe that's what a murderer could try: hiding a body under a mound of ketchup, mustard, relish, and sauerkraut. But he is interrupted by a group of German tourists attracted by the scent of the kraut. The perp runs off before the body is completely covered and is rapidly tracked by a member of the K-9 corps."

Kate wrinkles her nose. "Castle, ketchup and sauerkraut together? Really? Ugh?"

"You're right," Richard concedes. "Anyway, 'The Condiment Murders' sounds too much like a Hallmark Mystery movie. Better to keep our savory snacks to real life." He offers Kate his arm. "Shall we?"

Kate's slim fingers wrap around Richard's elbow. "Sure, why not?"

Richard grins. "Then hotdogs it will be."