121. Tell me lies

Esposito is less than happy on Monday morning. Mainly, he is complaining about the unfairness of O’Leary’s size and weight. This is, apparently, cheating. As is not giving Esposito a rematch, which actually seems to be the main point of annoyance. Why it’s taken Espo till now to start bitching is anyone’s guess. What was wrong with Friday?

“Get over yourself, Espo,” Beckett says sardonically. “If he hadn’t had training you’d have turned him into ground beef despite his size, and we’d have had to listen to you crowing about it all week.”

“He should pick on someone his own size,” Esposito grumbles.

“The way I remember it, you were pretty keen to go at him. You could have said no.”

“How did you ever manage to spar with him?”

“Practice,” Beckett says, lightly. Espo doesn’t miss the brittle edge, though. “That was a long time ago.”

“Bet you never put him down.”

“Nope. But I gave it a damn good try.” She smiles smugly. “And I didn’t complain after, either.” The smile grows sardonic fangs. “I’m not playing ‘whose is bigger’ though.”

Esposito splutters disgustedly. Beckett snickers, and congratulates herself on the deflection of the conversation as Ryan arrives.

“Okay. What do we need to get today? Espo, are you chasing those prints?”

“Chasin’ Carter’s. Still nothin’ on those other ones.”

“Have you tried asking New Mexico?”

“Uh?”

“I was thinking that maybe the prints might belong to Leon Belvez,” Beckett says, dropping a bombshell.

“What? How?”

“Are you sure that ain’t one of Castle’s way-out crazy theories?” Esposito says suspiciously.

“Gut feeling,” Beckett says. “Might be totally wrong. But it might not. Ryan, can you get a cleaned up picture of that footage that might be Bolton and see if you can compare it to Leon Belvez? See if there’s anything in the Silver Center footage that might show up Troy – have the techs managed anything since Friday night?”

“On it,” Ryan says.

“What’cha thinkin’, Beckett?” Espo asks.

“I’m thinking that post-grad research doesn’t pay as well as a big industrial espionage payoff, that’s what I’m thinking. Teaching doesn’t pay as well as stealing high-tech secrets, either. I think we need another look into both Belvezes’ financials. We’ve got Ricky’s, and there wasn’t anything unusual in there, but to get Leon’s we’re going to need a warrant, and for that I need this pesky stuff called evidence.”

“I finally worked out the measurements,” Ryan interjects. “Whatever was in that bag, it was the right size for shaving foam cans. Course, it was also the right size for air freshener. Can’t prove anything by that.”

“No, but we can run a bluff, can’t we?” Beckett says coolly. “How’s your poker face, Ryan? I think I’d enjoy some interrogation this morning.”

“Pretty good.”

“Then let’s get Karlen in here and push a whole lot on those cans.”

Castle arrives not long later, while Beckett is impatiently waiting for Karlen Petersen to arrive in an interrogation room. She brings him up to speed, and basks in the admiration in his gaze.

“So Ryan and I are going to take Karlen, but while we’re waiting, what’s the story here? Why would the Belvezes work together to sell Ricky’s lens formula, and how did Karlen and the unknown Troy Bolton get involved? And where does Kyle Carter fit in? I need a crazy theory, Castle, so I can tear it apart to get the real story.”

Castle pouts. “You won’t let me into Interrogation, you demand a crazy theory and you only want to destroy it? You don’t value my wonderful insights at all. I shouldn’t think up a theory at all. You don’t deserve one.”

“Think of your dinner, Castle,” Beckett says mischievously. “Sing for your supper.”

“That is unfair,” he says.

“My crime, my rules. Tell me the story, Castle.”

Castle starts to ponder. While he ponders, Beckett is ticking off what she has and what she doesn’t.

“We’ve not got ID on that set of prints. We don’t know who Kyle Carter is. We don’t know if Karlen carried in the shaving foam – but I’m going to bluff her till she doesn’t know which way’s up. I don’t know who this Bolton guy is – but I think he might be Leon Belvez. Espo’s looking into that.”

She glares viciously at her murder board. “I just need one thing to break. One lousy little break.”

“I think I got your break,” Esposito says smugly. “Troy Bolton is Leon Belvez. Or his identical twin.”

“Leon’s, I hope. It didn’t look much like Zac Efron on the footage.”

“I sent New Mexico the clip. They confirmed. They’re runnin’ prints now. Dunno what made you think of it, Beckett.”

“Gut instinct. Now we know who all was there. Ricky, Leon, and Karlen. Then there’s Kyle Carter. We still don’t know who he is.”

“If I were writing this, he’d be another lab tech.”

Beckett surges into life. “Espo! Get on to New Mexico State again. I wanna know if they’ve got a lab tech or someone else in the chemistry labs called Kyle Carter. Picture if you can get it – it ought to be on his security pass if he does work there.”

“Tra-la-la-la-la,” Castle carols.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve sung, so I get my supper,” Castle says happily. Beckett rolls her eyes in a very put-upon fashion, at which point Ryan appears.

“Petersen in Interrogation, Beckett.”

“Okay. Let’s go do this. Castle, are you gonna watch?”

“Sure I am.”

Karlen Petersen is putting up a good show of indifference well mixed with an attitude of dumb insolence. It lasts for a whole three minutes, which is not coincidentally about how long it takes Beckett to work through the preliminaries and read Petersen her Miranda rights.

“Do you understand?”

“What?” Petersen’s been shocked out her stained acrylic socks and sneakers. “I’m a suspect?”

“Too right,” Ryan says.

“Ms Petersen,” Beckett says, with intimidating formality, “you told me you had never met Troy Bolton.”

“Naw.”

“So how do you explain this?” Beckett pushes the stills across the table. The photo shows Bolton letting Petersen in.

“Forgot.”

“Forgot a whole evening spent with him?”

“Yeah.”

“And forgot the month of evenings before that?”

Petersen looks about her frantically. Ryan and Beckett stay entirely impassive. There is an ever-lengthening, ever more uncomfortable silence. Finally Beckett breaks it.

“If you won’t answer that, then maybe you’ll tell us what was in the Walgreens bag you were carrying?” Beckett bares her teeth. It might, in some prehistoric monster, have been termed a smile. On Beckett, it merely intimidates. Petersen is sweating copiously.

“Deodorant.”

“Really?” Beckett says sceptically, not concealing her utter disbelief in the slightest. “You left it there Friday. He was murdered Sunday.” Petersen cringes at the blunt word. “Funny thing is, there wasn’t any deodorant in his apartment.”

“Must have got a bit smelly around him, once it got hot,” Ryan says.

“So since it wasn’t deodorant, what was it?”

“Shaving foam. He asked me to pick it up for him.”

“Four cans at a time?” Ryan asks. “That’s a lot of shaving. Man didn’t have a beard when he got dead.”

Petersen shudders.

“An’ anyway, he hadn’t used any of ‘em. The one he was using was a completely different brand.”

Beckett picks up again.

“You told me you knew Albrechtssen” – Petersen looks bewildered at the sudden change of tack – “because you used to rent a room from him.”

“Yeah, so? That’s no crime.”

“You didn’t mention that you were still pretty friendly.” Beckett tosses another photo still on the table. This one’s the one where Petersen and Albrechtssen are all cuddled up together. “Looking very cosy there.”

Another pause.

“So in fact pretty much everything you told me first time was a lie,” Beckett says. “Hope you like company, because you’ll have plenty of it in Bedford Hills. You’ll be an accessory to murder, at a minimum.”

She stands up. Ryan follows.

“Nice meeting you,” she says casually as they both move to the door. “Ryan, get them to take her into Booking, will you?”

“Sure, Detective.”

Beckett’s hand hasn’t even reached the door handle when Petersen caves.

“It wasn’t like that.”

Beckett turns slowly, exuding disbelief. “What was it like, then?” She doesn’t sit down, or move away from the door.

“Ricky had this compound, better than anything else around. He was going to join Professor Terrison’s group, but he got here early.”

“Why?”

“Doctor Merowin suggested it.”

Beckett flicks a fast glance at Ryan. So Merowin had been lying too. Well, well, well. Isn’t that just peachy? Lies, damn lies, and chemistry post-grads. She smiles viciously. This is turning out to be a very good day. A very good day indeed.

In Observation, Castle and, only a few minutes into it, Esposito watch Petersen crumble like a stale cookie, and when she mentions Merowin Espo hightails it out, presumably to get Merowin brought in before Beckett’s even made the call.

Back in Interrogation, Beckett is becoming happier and happier. Not that a single flicker shows upon her face. Oh no. That’s stern and cold. Petersen, clearly terrified by the very real threat of prison, is spilling it. There’s more spilling than at a toddler tea party.

“So Dr Merowin said to Ricky that Professor Terrison would need to see samples, and Ricky said he could get some sent from New Mexico, his old lab tech would do it for him.”

“What was the tech’s name?”

“Kieran, Kris, somethin’ like that.”

“Kyle?” Ryan says.

“Coulda been. Didn’t pay much attention.”

“Dr Merowin had told Ricky he should make some up here, too. Prove it wasn’t a freak result. Ricky got pissed with him and said he’d need a proper lab: he couldn’t do it in a kitchen sink like Merowin’s stuff. So Merowin said he’d get Ricky into his lab, and I’d cover the tracks for any tech stuff. But he needed to eat, but Mike let him off meeting the rent, so he got a part-time job in the pharmacy to cover food.”

“Why were you doing all this?”

“Merowin paid me. Fifty grand.”

“What was Albrechtssen’s share in all this? He’s only a landlord.”

“He heard me and Ricky talking, and wanted in. He could put people off the scent about Troy too, by pretending it was a gay relationship an’ he didn’t approve.”

“What’s Troy got to do with anything?”

“He brought the samples. Couldn’t put them in the post, could ya? So he was gettin’ like a courier fee.”

Beckett sees the mechanism. What she doesn’t yet see is why, but – annoyingly – it’s beginning to look a lot like industrial espionage. Castle’s crazy theory is quite possibly right.

“Why was Merowin doing this?”

But that’s where Petersen runs out of gas. She doesn’t know. No matter how much Beckett and Ryan tag team her, she doesn’t know. She goes down to Holding, where her next stop will likely be trying to make a deal with the DA. Good luck with that one. The DA is not a notably soft touch. More like concrete, really, and he’s due for re-election shortly and won’t want to look soft on crime.

She strides back to the bullpen in full forward mode. “Espo?”

“Merowin’s being brought in.” he says quickly. “An’ Castle was right: there’s a lab tech in the chemistry department at New Mexico State by the name of Kyle Carter. Got a bit of a history of being free with his fists after a drink, ‘s why his prints were in the system.”

“Good work. We’ll need a warrant for Leon Belvez’s, Merowin’s, Petersen’s and Albrechtssen’s financials. New Mexico can play with Kyle Carter. He doesn’t sound worth a fight.” She turns. “Castle, wanna tag team with me when Merowin’s got here?”

Castle makes a happy little noise. “Spies and murder? Try to stop me, Beckett.” He grins. “Coffee? Just to fuel you up for the next one. Can’t have you losing your edge.”

Beckett’s edge, far from being lost, is very obvious in her smile. Castle could have thrown a silk scarf and the fabric would have parted on it.

“Okay, no edge lost. None. Not so much as an atom. No, an electron shell… no, a neutron” –

“Castle! Stop.” He stops. “Coffee? You just promised me coffee.” She’s facing away from the boys, and therefore produces a tiny… pout? It’s adorable. It’s also gone in a nanosecond, and the edge reappears. Castle deduces that coffee is necessary to his continued good health, though he won’t taste a drop of it. He makes it swiftly and competently, and pushes it into Beckett’s hand before she can scald herself by snatching it out of the machine. From the speed at which she drinks it, he concludes that she hasn’t had enough coffee today, which is a situation which should rapidly be remedied before someone – he – gets hurt.

Beckett smiles, edgily. “We’re nearly there. I can feel it.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to dinner.”

“Case first. Dinner after.”

“Thought Montgomery still had you on a curfew?”

“Not if I’ve just about solved it. He’ll cut me some slack.”

“Will I, Detective? How nice to know what I’ll do before I’ve decided,” Montgomery says smoothly from the break room door.

Beckett chokes on her coffee. Castle pats her on the back.

“It’s all coming together, sir. Ryan and I interviewed Karlen Petersen this morning and the whole thing’s beginning to make sense. We’re” – she gestures to incorporate Castle – “about to interview Mike Merowin.   We’re getting warrants for the financials for the whole gang. We’re nearly there,” she says plaintively.

It has no effect on Montgomery at all. “And you’ll be nearly there tomorrow, too. If Petersen and Merowin are in Holding, going home at a reasonable hour won’t hurt you.” He smiles, still smoothly but with an undertone which demands obedience. “I’ll cut you a little slack, but by seven p.m. you’re to be out of here. No matter what. You can start again in the morning, as early as you like, but you’ve got the twenty-four hours to keep them in Holding so you don’t need to be here till midnight.”

“Yes, sir,” Beckett forces out.

Castle catches Montgomery’s eye above Beckett’s frustrated head, and is not entirely surprised when Montgomery winks. Castle, however, thinks that the underlying order to go home will be enforced, possibly with menaces. On the other hand, he’s going to get a very good dinner from it, for which he has already made overnight arrangements, and he’s pretty sure that he can cheer Beckett up even if Montgomery does enforce curfew, so all in all it’s not a bad outcome.

Which is not at all what Beckett thinks, since she’s muttering almost as blackly as her coffee, which, Castle now notices, she hadn’t whitened at all. Badass Beckett time. He would feel a little sorry for Merowin, but the man deserves it for trying to lie to Beckett. He should have known that wouldn’t work.

Beckett spots Esposito and drains the cup in one scalding draught. “C’mon.” her smile is even more sharp edged, and her walk is wholly assertive. As she strides into Interrogation, Merowin pales, clearly seeing a different Beckett from the woman who’d interviewed him a few days ago.

“You lied about everything,” Beckett states baldly. “I’m going to read you your rights” – she does – “but not one word of that is going to change where you’re going. Conspiracy to murder, Mike.” No Dr Merowin here. “Even if you didn’t kill him, you’ll go down for murder one. Rikers, Mike, and once the gangs find out that you’re a chemist your life’ll be worth nothing if you don’t start cooking up meth for them. Course, if you’re caught you’ll have years added on. Life in Rikers, Mike. Enjoy it, because that’s what’s ahead of you.” She grins humourlessly. “The only chance you’ve got to make anything better is the one I’m going to give you right now. Tell me the absolute truth, from beginning to end. One slip, one little fib, one lie – and I walk out and you take your chances with the DA and the jury. I’ve got all the evidence.” She pauses. Merowin is shaking. “Up to you, Mike.”

His silence doesn’t last for more than a moment, and then his terrified speech pours out so fast that Beckett is truly grateful that this is all being recorded. Even Castle couldn’t have squeezed a single word in edgeways.

“It wasn’t fair,” he starts, petulantly and angrily. “I was senior post-grad and John should have given me the gig. I can synthesise as well as anyone. But he went and got Belvez from New Mexico. Of course I’d read his papers but he wasn’t doing anything I couldn’t have done.”

But you didn’t think of it, Beckett muses. So, jealousy.

“So John thought we’d be all pals together – dumb fuck, like that was ever gonna happen” – Beckett kicks Castle to stop him defending his friend – “and then I thought, well, I didn’t have to be second best to some jumped up hick kid from New fucking Mexico State. I knew this guy who’s in a big fibre optic company and I knew he’d pay a fortune for this tech. I just needed samples. So I told Ricky that the funding had come through early, but not to let anyone know, just to come up and we’d find him a temporary apartment. Dumbass was so fixated on his syntheses he never got his head into the real world. Just believed everything I told him. Called himself a scientist? Never asked a single question.”

He finally takes a breath, jealousy twisting his face.

“Anyway. I promised Petersen and Albrechtssen a share of the payoff if they made sure Ricky was somewhere I knew about. So they spun you that yarn about Troy Bolton to make you think he was a boyfriend and staying around a lot. He was just a courier.”

“He was Leon Belvez. How’d you convince him to bring the lens cases?”

“Didn’t have to. Ricky asked him. Thought his big brother would like a weekend in the big city seeing the sights.” Contempt for the non-New Yorker drips through his voice. “Kyle Carter got the samples ready for Leon to pick up and up he came. It was all going just fine. They went round to Ricky’s to get the samples. Leon went out – Ricky said he wanted to walk around, see Times Square all lit up” – Beckett hears hick – “and Karlen texted me so I could call Ricky down to the lab. That way she and Albrechtssen could doctor the cans to put the lens cases in so I could hand them off to my pal. He’d already transferred the money.”

“So why’d you need to kill him?”

“Stupid hick got a cab. Turned up too early and heard me talking to my friend. I offered him a cut but he wasn’t having it. So I hit him, and he went down. Then I hooked him up to a carbon monoxide canister cause that way I’d be able to claim the compound too. I’d have patented it and I’d have been rich. I’d never have to kowtow to Terrison ever again.”

Beckett stands up. Her voice is cold. “Michael Merowin, you are under arrest for the murder of Riccardo Belvez.” She cuffs him. Castle watches impassively as he’s marched out, and handed over to Holding for now.

When she returns, she looks a little drained.

“Good result, Beckett.”

“Yeah. All pride and jealousy. Couldn’t believe someone was better than him.”

“You got him, Beckett?” Montgomery says from the doorway of his office.

“Yessir.”

“Good work. Quitting time for you. You can do the paperwork tomorrow. You’ve even got an hour to spare.”

Montgomery watches her leave, trailed by Castle. He thinks that on this week’s evidence that he should put Beckett and the team back on the rota, and stop worrying about her hours. She seems to be pretty much back to normal. As the elevator door shuts, he can just see a sliver of Castle moving very definitely into his detective. He nods satisfiedly to himself. That’s just fine. He’ll read them the lecture about PDA, in due course. If necessary.