395. Chapter 395

After The Wild Rover

Episode 5.18

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Let Erin remember that I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: Actually, well before The Wild Rover.

Policewoman Katherine Beckett checked herself in the mirror as best she could. The scratchy serge uniform did nothing to flatter her figure and her skirt went almost to her ankles. The stiff, new shoes she had on hurt her feet already. The weight of the service revolver on her Sam Browne belt was unaccustomed to her, but welcome. She was one of the first policewomen on the New York Police Department. She smiled at herself in the mirror and carefully put her billed cap on her head. Not at the rakish angle she had seen on some officers, but at the precise official angle.

She left her small walk up apartment and walked to the 12th Precinct, no more than six blocks away. She took a deep breath and walked through the door. Reporting to the desk sergeant, she was sent to the fourth floor to meet her new boss.

The name on the door said Sergeant Thomas Demming, Homicide. She knocked and walked in, standing at attention in front of Sergeant Demming. "Policewoman Katherine Beckett reporting for duty."

Demming looked her up and down, in a manner she found uncomfortable. Finally he spoke. "Jesus! Those morons at City Hall actually did it. I guess once they caved in and gave you women the vote, they had to start handing out some goodies to you women."

"Sergeant! I'm a fully qualified police officer. I expect…"

"I expect, "Demming broke in, "that I got stuck with you because I'm only a sergeant and all the other squads are led by lieutenants. So, turn around, shut your mouth and get busy typing." He waved vaguely at a desk with a typewriter and a mass of paperwork on it." Suddenly his frown deepened. "Beckett? You're Irish?"

"I'm an American. My family has been in this country for generations." Kate shot back.

"You're Irish. And take off that damned weapon. Turn it in to the armory. I'm not going to have some dumb dame shoot a real cop."

"I shot better than anyone in my academy class except for two men." She said proudly.

Demming nodded and walked around the desk. "Get a little help from the instructors, did you?" He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Is that how you got though the academy?"

"Get your hands off of me." Kate hissed.

"Why."

Kate slammed her heavy shoe down on his instep. As Demming hopped on one foot and cursed, he yelled, "Get to work and turn that weapon in."

Kate sat at her desk and began to organize the handwritten pages on her desk.

"So, you've met the boss?"

She turned to see a slim, well dressed man with blue eyes sit down behind her. "He doesn't seem to like me." Kate said.

"He doesn't like anyone. He doesn't like the Irish, like me. Detective Kevin Ryan." He held out his hand and Kate shook it.

"And he doesn't like brown people. Although that's not the word he uses." Said a second man. "Detective Javier Esposito. Welcome to the 12th."

"What does he have against the Irish?"

"He's convinced that the Irish are keeping him from rising higher than sergeant. Sure, there are a lot of Irish on the NYPD, and we do look out for each other. But, Demming will never get higher than he is because he can't keep his mouth closed when he should."

Kate looked at the pile of papers. "Thanks for the information. But I need to get to work."

Shortly after lunch, Demming came out of his office. "Beckett! What did I tell you? Get rid of that damned gun!"

She sighed. "I guess I should go to the armory."

"No hurry." Ryan said, "He's going to the Rathskellar, just down the block. He'll be drinking for the rest of the day. Another reason he won't ever make lieutenant."

Kate was shocked. "But alcohol is illegal since Prohibition! And he's a police officer."

"And that's why he drinks for free." Ryan said, then turned around. "Javi, you know we can't have a police officer go around unarmed. We need to get her a weapon."

"Fat Lew's?" Espo said.

Ryan nodded.

After turning in her service revolver, Kate found herself in Fat Lew's Pawn Shop, buying a Colt .32 automatic and a shoulder holster.

"We can't let Demming see that you're heeled, so wear it under your jacket." Ryan said.

Kate thanked her new friends and walked back to the precinct with them.

"What are you two working on?" She asked.

"The Tommy Massiano murder. Massiano was the youngest brother of Tony Massiano. He runs all the illegal liquor in Little Italy. A mob hit. The shooter is in Cleveland by now, or farther."

Kate took a deep breath. "I have a theory about the Massiano killing." Not being laughed at, she went on. "He was shot in the back of the head. Not that uncommon. But, a red silk scarf was wrapped around his neck and an orchid was placed carefully in his mouth."

Ryan shrugged. "Some killers are a little odd. So?"

Kate decided to go for it. "Have you ever read Black Pawn magazine?"

"The pulp with all those lurid covers?" Esposito asked, shaking his head. "I don't need to read about murders when I'm off duty."

"There's a story by a Mr. Richard Rodgers in which the killer leaves exactly those items with his victim. And, a week ago, Moses "Shorty" Blum, the bootlegger, was murdered. He was found with a dyed light green carnation in his mouth and a long white scarf around his neck. That was in another story by Mr. Rodgers, I'm sure someone is copying Mr. Rodgers' work in the killings."

"So?" Ryan asked.

"So I intend to visit Mr. Rodgers at his home tonight and question him."

"Do you want back up?" Esposito asked.

"No. I can manage."

Three hours later Kate wasn't so sure. Mr. Rodgers lived in an expensive brownstone just off Central Park. How does a penny a word writer afford this? She asked herself.

When she knocked, a tall, handsome blue eyed man opened the door and smiled at her. "May I help you, Miss…?"

"Beckett. Policewoman Katherine Beckett. Are you Richard Rodgers?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Can you tell me where he is?"

"No."

"You can't tell me where he is, but you're in his home?"

"No. I'm in my home."

Kate's face went red. "I apologize. I must have gotten the wrong address."

"My name is Richard Castle. I just changed my name from Rodgers for professional reasons. I'm a writer."

"I know. That's why I want to see you."

He invited her in and walked to a sideboard where a selection of expensive whiskeys was in plain sight.

"Mr. Castle! Liquor is illegal!"

Castle nodded. "Then I won't offer you any." He poured himself a drink and sat down across from her.

"I have to ask. How do you afford this home? Your earnings from writing must be…"

"Minimal." Castle explained. "My mother owns this. She was one of Flo Ziegfeld's first chorus girls. She did what all smart chorus girls do. She bagged a rich husband. George William Rodgers III, a scion of a very wealthy New York family. He liked to ride until one of his horses tripped, rolled over him and killed him."

"I'm so very sorry for your loss." Kate said.

Castle shrugged. "I was ten months old at the time. I have no memory of him."

"And you write?"

He nodded. "And drink. In April 1917 I enlisted to save the world for democracy and end all wars. I ended up a pilot, 94th Pursuit Squadron. Shot down on November 10, 1918, the day before the war ended. I stayed in Europe after I was released from the hospital. I married a nurse and had a child by her. Stupid idea. She was sleeping around. We divorced. Big scandal. The Rodgers are pillars of the community and don't divorce. They have sordid affairs that they cover up instead. I stayed in Europe for a while and watched the English, the French and the Italians, and others, grab off their enemies' empires for themselves, with no thought for the wishes of the inhabitants. And peace seems to have failed to have broken out in spite of President Wilson's promises. Half the world is still shooting at someone." He raised his arms to encompass the whole of Manhattan. "And here I am. And here I drink." Castle took a long sip of Scotch. "Please excuse my cynicism."

Kate explained her ideas about the two murders. Castle nodded. "Wolfgang Chang, the half German, half Chinese private eye from Hawaii. One of my most popular characters, and the killings seem to copy my stories about him. So what do you expect from me?"

"I was hoping you might have some insight into the killer's mind. He's obviously mimicking the killings in your books. That suggests a disturbed mind."

"What do you say we discuss this over dinner?" Castle suddenly said.

"You have no insights into the disturbed mind of the killer?"

"Not a one."

"Then I'll be leaving." Kate shot to her feet. It was obvious that this playboy had only one thing on his mind.

"I have no ideas about the state of the disturbed killer's mind, because he isn't disturbed. "Castle said as she reached the door.

She whirled around. "What?"

"Left behind at the first murder was a square of dark red silk and a South American orchid. In the story, it was a rectangle of scarlet silk and a Hawaiian orchid. For the second murder, in the story the scarf was a very light pink and the flower was dyed teal. A disturbed mind would have been incapable of not killing those men exactly as was done in my story. The killer is trying to make you think he's copying my stories because he's crazy. He's actually doing it to throw us off the trail." He downed the rest of his Scotch. "Just not that well." He added.

Kate was so impressed that she stayed and talked to Castle for three hours and even had a small glass of wine.

The precinct was busy the next morning. "What happened" Kate asked.

"Big Josh Davidson of the Brooklyn mob was killed last night. A silver dollar was found in his mouth and a parrot's feather was in his hair."

"The Case of the Shady Barmaid!" Kate said and ran to tell Sergeant Demming what she'd found out. She was promptly thrown out of his office and sent back to her desk with her ears burning at the language he had used to her.

Demming left a few minutes later. Ryan went to the window and looked into the street. "It's okay. Demming went to Gray's Diner. There's a poker game going on there in the back room. Has been for years.'

"But gambling is illegal and…" Kate stopped. Both of her friends were smiling at her. Instead, she grabbed the phone and called Richard Castle.

Castle laughed when she told him about the most recent murder. "Do you see what's wrong, Miss Beckett?"

She smiled. "It should have been a Mexican peso and the feather should have been from a cockatoo."

"So, if you were going to kill off rival mobsters, who would you kill first?" Castle asked.

"The one that was the most dangerous to me. So, Tommy Massiano would be the most dangerous to me?"

"That's what I'd say." Castle said.

When Kate hung up, she told Ryan and Esposito about what she had found. "No evidence." Espo said. "What do you intend to do?"

"I'll go talk to Tony Massiano. He should know who's after him. Maybe he'll tell me."

"Do you want back up?" Ryan asked.

She shook her head. "He might talk to me, but not to two male cops."

Kate found the import-export business that was the front for the Massiano brothers. She walked in and went straight into Tony Massiano's office without knocking.

"Beckett! What the hell are you doing here?" Demming bellowed.

She took it all in at once. Tony Massiano, Demming, a stack of one hundred dollar bills on the table and copies of Black Pawn magazine. "You had your own brother and those others killed." She blurted out.

"Demming! Who is this dame?" Massiano yelled.

Kate drew her Colt. "You're under arrest." She shoved the pistol into Massiano's gut. She saw Demming pull his revolver as Massiano went for her weapon. She kneed him in the groin and he fell backwards. She heard Demming's pistol fire and was splattered with Massiano's blood and brains.

"You stupid bitch." Demming snarled, raising his pistol.

"Damn!" Ryan yelled from behind them. "Demming just killed Tony Massiano! Look at him!"

Esposito stuck his head in the door. "Nice shot, boss. You saved Beckett's life."

That weekend, Kate Beckett had dinner with Rick Castle. "So," she said," Demming's officially a hero, but the most powerful mobs in the city know he was killing for Tony Massiano. He resigned and disappeared. He wouldn't last week in New York. And the new head of homicide seems to accept female police officers."

"I've been thinking. Everybody else writes about tough, jaded male private eyes. I thought I'd write about a tough, but caring, and gorgeous lady cop."

"You want me to come by and tell you about my day at work?"

"I thought I'd tag along with you."

She shook her head. "The NYPD would never go for it."

"But my pal Jimmy loves the idea."

"Jimmy?"

"James Walker, the mayor of New York City. What do you say, Kate?"

Kate decided she'd have a glass of wine.