Chapter 1101: The Smile Never Fades (Patreon)

In the center of the funeral hall, a coffin lay tipped over on the red carpet—next to it, two bodies.

The man was clearly Mr. Mank, just as Esposito had said: a well-dressed white male in his seventies or eighties, his features carefully made up by the mortician. He looked quite at peace, even content. The small black cap still perched on the back of his head revealed his religious faith.

Beneath him lay a woman, her body still stiff with rigor mortis. Her skin was flushed with livor mortis, and she wore a floral dress—a “pretty” outfit one might wear to a date night.

Castle craned his neck, surveying the scene with an odd expression.
“Is it just me, or does Mr. Mank look... kinda happy?”

Beckett stepped on his foot without changing expression. Jack took three deliberate steps away from him. He swore that if this idiot got beaten up by grieving family members, he wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it.

He moved toward the medical examiner, Dr. Lanie Parish, to greet her. Of all the Black women Jack knew, Lanie had always struck him as effortlessly elegant. Occasionally she’d try out braids, but she usually kept her hair soft and smooth, and her light, natural makeup gave her an easy, friendly charm.

“Hey Jack. Long time no see. You’re looking sharper than ever,” Lanie said brightly as she took off her gloves and accepted the bear claw pastry he offered.

Jack knew she didn’t like coffee, so he’d brought one of the extra pastries from that morning.

“You’re looking great too. New boyfriend?” he asked casually—only to notice her glance flick quickly and involuntarily toward Esposito before she cleared her throat and changed the subject.

“The victim is Dr. Valerie Monroe, an attending physician in internal medicine at the county hospital.”

Jack gave Esposito a curious look. The man was scratching his head, trying his best not to glance over again.

Beckett didn’t seem to notice the subtle exchange. She was already in full detective mode.
“She’s a doctor? Any known connection to the deceased?”

“Kevin’s interviewing the family now. We’ll know more soon,” Esposito said, nodding toward an elderly woman seated nearby, with Ryan squatting in front of her, notepad in hand.

“Cause of death?” Beckett asked.

“Liver failure. The old bastard drank like a fish.” The old woman’s sharp voice cut through the air.

“I don’t know that girl, but I highly doubt anyone would die for my husband. He only liked flirting with women older than himself.”

“Thanks for the insight,” Beckett said politely, barely hiding her grin. The old lady looked like she might just outlive them all.

“Well,” Lanie chimed in, barely suppressing a smile of her own, “we have a likely cause of death for Mr. Mank... but the doctor’s death is a complete mystery. No bullet wounds, no stab wounds, no signs of restraint.”

She handed her half-eaten bear claw back to Jack and pulled on her gloves again. Gently lifting the dead woman’s hair, she pointed to the back of her head.
“There’s a bruise here, likely sustained before death, but it wouldn’t have been fatal. Based on lividity and liver temperature, time of death is between 7 and 9 PM last night. I’ll need to do a full autopsy to be sure.”

“So someone clearly wanted to get rid of the body,” Beckett said, eyes narrowing as she glanced at the woman’s purse nearby. “Her phone and wallet are gone too.”

Castle let out a low whistle.
“Whoever did this is brilliant. Hiding the body inside a coffin that already had a corpse? Genius. And they picked a Jewish funeral—by tradition, once the body is dressed and in the coffin, it’s never opened again. If it hadn’t tipped, this doctor would’ve disappeared forever.”

Beckett checked her watch.
“Talk to the funeral staff. I want a list of everyone who had access to that casket in the last 12 hours.”

Everyone split up. Esposito went to find the funeral director. Ryan stayed on-site to continue interviewing witnesses. Beckett headed back to the precinct to contact the hospital where Dr. Monroe had worked.

Lanie remained to finish gathering evidence and wait for the CSI team to photograph and transport the bodies.

As for Jack and Castle? They went to their favorite Chinese spot for brunch—and grabbed takeout for Beckett while they were at it.

Castle, devouring his steamed eel with black bean sauce, looked up with a frown.
“You hang out with some very young women. Mind telling me why my daughter’s suddenly obsessed with this?”

He pulled out his phone and showed Jack a picture of Alexis in a sundress, posing on a Vespa scooter while holding a motorcycle helmet modeled after the character Mandalore.

Jack glanced at the photo, then calmly resumed nibbling on his scallion-roasted bony carp.
“Are you asking about the Mandalorian-style helmet or the Vespa scooter?”

Vespas had become iconic thanks to films like Roman Holiday, where Gregory Peck rode Audrey Hepburn through the streets of Rome. Leave it to the Italians to turn a simple scooter into a symbol of elegance and literary nostalgia.

They used to look like this.
After Roman Holiday—they looked like that.
A joke, of course, but not far off. These things now sold for $5,000 a pop. Meanwhile, you could buy a fully-equipped electric trike from Magrath for under $3,000.

“You should probably ask Detective Beckett that. Didn’t she mention owning a 1994 Harley Softail? Haven’t you seen her in tight black leather pants riding that beast?”

Jack’s words made Castle daydream for a moment… before the mental image was suddenly replaced by that of his sweet daughter, causing a full-body shudder.

“God. Don’t tell me Alexis is going through a rebellious phase.”

“Wouldn’t you say she’s the right age for it?” Jack shrugged. “And they say the good girls have the worst ones.”

Castle was still sulking about that when they walked back into the 12th Precinct’s detective bullpen. Even Beckett noticed.

“What’s up with him?” she asked.

Jack recounted the whole conversation with a devilish grin. Just as the saying goes: a smile never disappears—it simply moves from one person’s face to another.

After the sleepless, blackmailed night he’d had, Jack was finally feeling like himself again.