[Castle] Ch: 80 & 81 [The final clue] (Patreon)

AN: Couldn't fit the ending in this chapter. It's over 3.8k words. Well, next one will end the case for sure.

--

Castle followed Kate into the morgue, hands in his coat pockets, still looking a bit put out that no one had taken his identical twin theory seriously. Lanie was standing by Zalman Drake's body, a microscope tray and several evidence bags laid out on the counter nearby. She looked up as they entered, immediately noticing Castle's expression.

"Why does he look like Christmas was canceled?" she asked.

Kate put on a pair of gloves. "Because you're about to shoot down his favorite theory."

Castle pointed at her in protest. “We don’t know that yet. Science has surprised humanity plenty of times before.”

Lanie raised an eyebrow. "What theory?"

Kate nodded toward Castle. “He thinks Edmund Drake might actually be Zalman and that the brothers somehow switched identities.”

Lanie stared at him for a few seconds.

Castle spread his hands. "Identical twins, secret magician's workshop, mysterious death, hidden identities. You can't tell me that possibility isn't worth considering."

"It isn't," Lanie stated flatly.

Castle's face fell. "You didn't even think about it."

"I already did the autopsy," Lanie replied, reaching for an evidence bag. "And unless Zalman and Edmund somehow have identical dental records, identical surgical histories, identical old fractures, and matching medical files, the man on my table is Zalman Drake."

Some of Castle’s enthusiasm faded as he absorbed that collection of inconvenient facts. “That does make the theory considerably harder to defend.”

Kate smiled. "Your switched-twins theory just died."

Castle looked at the covered body. "Technically, one twin already did that."

Lanie shook her head and picked up another evidence bag. "Are you two done?"

Kate nodded. "What did you find?"

Lanie's expression grew more serious as she held up the bag. Several tiny, pale hairs were inside.

"I found these lodged pretty deep in Zalman's throat."

Castle stepped closer. "Hair?"

"Rabbit hair," Lanie confirmed. "Several strands."

Kate frowned. "Inside his throat?"

"Deep enough that they weren't something he casually inhaled while standing near someone's pet bunny," Lanie said, placing the bag down. "They were around the back of his mouth and upper airway. Considering he was smothered, whatever was pressed against his face probably had rabbit fur on it."

Castle’s eyes immediately brightened again as a completely different theory began assembling itself in his head. "A magician murdered with a rabbit, or... Wait! A killer rabbit!"

Kate looked at him. "That's not what she said."

“I know what she said, but you have to admit the symbolism is fantastic. Dead magician, rabbit fur lodged in his throat, mysterious murder weapon. Somewhere in New York, there’s a top hat feeling extremely nervous about this investigation.”

Lanie gave him a dry look. “You’re enjoying this case far more than any normal person should.”

Castle offered her an innocent smile. “I simply respect good thematic consistency when I see it.”

Kate wisely ignored him and turned back toward Lanie. “Did you find anything else that might help us?”

"That's where things get more interesting." Lanie picked up the toxicology report from the counter and turned it toward Kate. "I found traces of organophosphates in his nose and throat."

Kate's eyebrows drew together. "Organophosphates?"

"They're a pretty broad family of compounds," Lanie explained. "You can find them in some pesticides and insecticides. Certain nerve agents are organophosphates too. They also show up in some industrial oils, including aviation lubricants and jet-related oils."

Castle leaned toward the report, following the possibilities as Lanie listed them. “So before somebody killed Zalman, he was either breathing pesticide, hanging around nerve agents, working near industrial machinery, or spending time around airplanes.”

“Those are some of the possibilities we’re looking at,” Lanie said. “The concentration wasn’t anywhere near enough to kill him, so I don’t think the organophosphates were deliberately used as a poison. Whatever exposure happened probably came from the environment he was in shortly before his death.”

Kate looked thoughtful. “Can you narrow down which type?”

“Not from what I have right now. I sent additional samples to the lab, but it’ll take time.”

Castle looked toward Zalman again. “Rabbit hair and mysterious industrial chemicals. This case is becoming increasingly hostile toward ordinary explanations.”

Kate pulled off her gloves. “At least we know two things. Edmund is definitely Edmund, and Zalman was somewhere shortly before his murder that exposed him to organophosphates.”

Castle sighed as he followed her toward the door. “I’d still like everyone to know that I’m mourning the loss of a magnificent theory.”

Lanie called after him without looking up from her evidence. “You could always send flowers to the funeral.”

Castle glanced back over his shoulder. “Your sympathy is deeply touching, Lanie.”

She smiled as she returned to her work. “I thought you might appreciate the gesture.”

...

[12th Precinct]

Travis sat at his desk with a thick stack of reports spread across nearly every available inch of the surface while Ryan worked through another pile at the neighboring computer. Tobias visited earlier that morning and reached the same conclusion. That was a remote-controlled mechanical hand blueprint.

They’d spent most of the morning searching through every serious explosion reported across New York and the surrounding area during the previous month. Building fires, vehicle explosions, industrial accidents, construction incidents, gas leaks, transformer failures, suspicious blasts, and anything else that could conceivably have involved C4 had made its way onto their list.

The problem was that New York produced an irritating number of explosions.

By late morning, they’d already eliminated warehouse fires caused by electrical faults, several ruptured gas lines, two transformer explosions, a Brooklyn car bombing involving a homemade incendiary device, and enough construction accidents to make Travis wonder how half the city remained standing.

None of them had involved C4.

Ryan had forty-seven reports left to review. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. Travis knew where the bomb was used, but he couldn’t take any action until Lanie finds the traces of Organophosphates. For now, he planned to go through the reports.

The elevator doors finally opened, giving both detectives an excuse to look away from the paperwork.

Esposito stepped into the bullpen looking like he hadn’t slept properly in several days. His tie hung loose around his collar, his sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, and he looked exhausted as hell.

Ryan took one look at him. “Damn, man. You look terrible this morning.”

"You look like shit, man," Travis said.

Esposito dropped a folder onto his desk and lowered himself into his chair. “Thanks, guys. It’s comforting to know friendship is still alive and thriving around here.”

Travis pushed one of the explosion reports aside. “You finally wrap up that double homicide you’ve been chasing?"

Esposito leaned back and rubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah, I wrapped it up this morning.”

Ryan turned his chair toward him, suddenly much more interested in Esposito’s case than another electrical fire. “So who killed those two teenagers?”

Esposito hesitated for several seconds before looking between them.

“An eighty-year-old grandmother.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot upward. “You’ve been chasing an eighty-year-old woman for three days?”

“I didn’t know I was chasing an eighty-year-old woman until this morning,” Esposito replied, already sounding tired of explaining the situation. “The two victims lived across the alley from her apartment. Apparently, they thought throwing bags of dog crap through her open window was the funniest thing anybody had ever invented.”

Travis shook his head. “You gotta be kidding me."

“For three straight weeks,” Esposito said. “Granny finally snapped, pulled an old World War-era rifle out of a closet, leaned out her window, and shot both of them.”

For a few seconds, neither Travis nor Ryan knew how to respond.

Ryan eventually leaned back in his chair. “You’re telling me an eighty-year-old woman dropped two teenagers with a World War-era rifle because they kept throwing dog crap into her apartment?”

“Family rifle,” Esposito explained. “Her husband had kept it stored away for decades. The damn thing was loaded and somehow still worked perfectly.”

Travis glanced toward Ryan, who looked equally fascinated and horrified by the story.

“That might be the most unique New York homicide I’ve heard this month,” Ryan said.

Esposito gave him a tired look. “Unfortunately, the story gets even worse from there.”

Travis raised an eyebrow. “I’m genuinely afraid to ask what comes after that.”

“We arrested her, and she confessed before I’d even finished asking the first question. She didn't want any lawyers and just told us exactly what happened.” Esposito paused before letting out a slow breath. “Then halfway back to the precinct, she suffered heart failure in the back of the patrol car. Paramedics worked on her, but they couldn’t bring her back.”

Ryan’s amusement disappeared almost immediately. “Seriously? She died before you even got her booked?”

Esposito nodded. “My killer confessed, solved my case for me, and died before we reached the precinct. That’s how my morning went.”

Travis set his report aside. “You somehow managed to close a double homicide and still look like you lost the case.”

“That’s pretty much how it feels right now.” Esposito leaned back and closed his eyes. “I need coffee, and after that I need something stronger than coffee.”

Travis reached toward the nearby pot, lifted it, and discovered that somebody had already drained the last cup. It was him and Ryan. He looked toward Esposito. “You’re going to hate this even more because the coffee pot is completely empty. You gotta do a trip to the coffee machine.”

Esposito opened his eyes and stared at the pot as though it had personally betrayed him. “I’m starting to hate everything about today.”

The elevator doors opened again before anyone could answer.

Kate stepped into the bullpen with Castle beside her. Travis immediately noticed the purposeful look on Kate’s face, while Castle appeared considerably less enthusiastic than he had earlier that morning.

“Lanie found something useful?” Travis asked as they approached.

“A couple of things,” Kate replied.

Castle stopped beside the desk and lifted one finger before anyone could say anything else. “And before somebody asks, Edmund Drake is definitely Edmund Drake.”

Ryan looked at him with immediate amusement. “So medical science finally killed your secret twin-switch theory?”

Castle pointed toward him. “Temporarily disproven by aggressively inconvenient medical evidence.”

Kate ignored the protest and rested one hand against the edge of Travis’s desk. “Lanie confirmed the body is Zalman.”

Travis nodded. “What else did she find during the autopsy?”

“Rabbit hair lodged inside Zalman’s throat.”

Ryan frowned and glanced toward Castle. “A killer rabbit?”

Castle spread his hands as if Ryan had finally recognized the true importance of the situation. “Thank you. Somebody finally realized that there is a killer rabbit.”

Before Castle could launch into another theory, Kate continued. “The hairs were deep in his upper airway. Since Zalman was smothered, Lanie thinks whatever the killer pressed against his mouth and nose may have been covered in rabbit fur.”

Travis leaned back slightly as he considered it. “That would be a great clue almost anywhere except inside a magician’s workshop. In there, rabbit fur probably narrows the murder weapon down to half the inventory.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Kate said.

Castle moved closer to Travis’s desk. “There’s another clue that might actually be more useful. Lanie found organophosphates.”

That immediately sharpened Travis’s attention.

Kate nodded. “Trace amounts were inside Zalman’s nose and throat. The concentration wasn’t anywhere near enough to kill him, so Lanie thinks he picked them up from somewhere in his environment shortly before he died.”

Ryan glanced between Kate and Castle. “What kind of environment are we talking about?”

“There are several possibilities,” Kate replied. “Pesticides, insecticides, certain nerve agents, and some industrial lubricants. Lanie also specifically mentioned aviation lubricants and oils used around jet machinery.”

At the mention of aviation oils, Travis glanced toward the mountain of explosion reports covering his desk. Ryan followed his gaze almost immediately.

Kate noticed the reaction. “Did you two find anything useful in those reports?”

“Nothing that clearly points toward C4,” Travis said. “We’ve been digging through explosions since this morning, but so far everything has a fairly ordinary explanation.”

Ryan tapped the remaining stack beside his keyboard. “Gas leaks, electrical faults, gang devices, industrial accidents, construction failures, and a truly impressive number of people who should never be trusted around propane tanks.”

Castle looked around the bullpen and only then seemed to realize somebody was missing from their little group. “Where’s Esposito hiding?”

A hand slowly rose from behind the neighboring computer monitor.

Castle turned toward him and stared for a moment. “Good lord, Esposito. You look absolutely terrible today.”

Esposito lowered his hand again. “Everyone who sees me apparently feels obligated to mention that.”

Travis smiled. “Tell him about Granny Terminator.”

Esposito turned his head toward Ryan with an immediate warning in his expression. “Do not start calling her Granny Terminator.”

Naturally, that only made Castle more interested.

He moved closer to Esposito’s desk. “You can’t say something like Granny Terminator and expect me to continue with my day.”

Travis leaned back. “Eighty-year-old grandmother shot two teenagers with a World War-era rifle.”

Castle’s eyes widened. “What could possibly make an eighty-year-old grandmother do that?”

Esposito seemed to reconsider whether Castle really needed the answer before finally giving in. “They’d been throwing bags of dog crap through her apartment window for three weeks.”

Castle stared at him for several seconds while processing that information, then slowly turned toward Kate with the expression of a man who had just discovered an entirely new field of criminal theory.

“This is exactly why poop-based warfare should never be underestimated.”

Kate blinked at him. “I’m already regretting asking what you mean by poop-based warfare.”

Castle gestured toward Esposito as though presenting evidence before a jury. “Those teenagers repeatedly launched biological projectiles into hostile territory. Eventually, the defending nation retaliated with vintage military hardware. History is filled with conflicts started over less.”

Ryan covered his mouth with one hand while Travis suddenly found the report in front of him extremely interesting.

Esposito stared at Castle with deep exhaustion. “I spent three days working that case.”

Castle nodded with appropriate solemnity. “And history will remember the sacrifices you made during the campaign.”

Esposito grabbed his empty coffee cup and pushed himself out of the chair. “I’m going downstairs before somebody has to investigate the completely justified murder of a bestselling writer.”

Castle watched him head toward the elevator. “For the record, I feel like the word justified was unnecessarily hostile.”

Kate waited until Esposito had disappeared before turning her attention back to the explosion reports covering Travis’s desk. They had several new pieces of information, although none of them were immediately useful enough to crack the case. Lanie still needed time to run the additional toxicology analysis, and Travis and Ryan had barely made a dent in the remaining incidents.

Castle glanced from the reports toward the case board, mentally assembling everything they’d discovered so far.

“Rabbit fur, C4, organophosphates, and a mechanical arm built by a magician with a talent for dangerous engineering.” A faint smile appeared as he considered the combination. “Whatever Zalman was building, I’m guessing it was going to be spectacular.”

Kate followed his gaze toward the board. “Or incredibly dangerous.”

Castle looked toward her with a small smile. “When magicians get ambitious enough, those two things usually end up sharing the same stage.”

...

[Later That Noon]

[Castle’s Penthouse]

Castle sat at the kitchen counter with his laptop open in front of him, his irritation growing with every article he clicked through. Across from him, Martha drank tea while pretending to read a book, although she’d been staring at the same page for nearly ten minutes.

Castle opened another report, skimmed it, then shook his head. “Do you have any idea how many things explode in New York every week?”

Martha lowered the book just enough to look at him. “I’ve somehow managed to live a full and satisfying life without keeping statistics on metropolitan explosions.”

“There are dozens of them. Electrical transformers, boilers, construction equipment, vehicles, gas mains, industrial accidents. It’s unbelievable.”

Martha took another sip of tea. “And yet somehow you still insist on living in this city.”

Castle barely glanced away from the screen. “The murder rate would miss me terribly.”

His phone began vibrating against the counter before Martha could answer.

Castle looked toward the screen and immediately lost some of his amusement.

Gina.

He made no move to pick it up.

Martha noticed the hesitation almost instantly. “Richard.”

Castle kept his attention firmly on the laptop. “Mother.”

“Your phone is ringing.”

“I’m fully aware of that.”

When he still made no attempt to answer, Martha reached across the counter, picked up the phone, and held it toward him. “Then perhaps you should try answering it.”

Castle stared at the phone as though she’d just offered him a live explosive.

Martha pushed it a little closer.

With a sigh, Castle finally accepted it. Instead of answering, he covered the phone with one hand, made a small flourish with the other, and opened his palm.

The phone had disappeared.

Martha stared at his empty hands.

Castle allowed himself a faint smile. “Magic.”

The phone continued vibrating from somewhere beneath the counter.

Martha’s expression didn’t change. “You do realize that making the phone disappear doesn’t make the actual problem disappear.”

Castle’s smile faded slightly. He reached beneath the counter and retrieved the phone just as the call ended, then placed it facedown beside the laptop as though that settled the matter.

Martha quietly closed her book.

Castle glanced toward her and immediately recognized the expression on her face.

“Alright, Richard. I think that's enough.”

He leaned back slightly. “Enough of what?”

“Enough avoiding Gina.”

“I’m not avoiding her.”

Martha gave him a look that made it clear she had no intention of accepting that answer. “You’ve been hiding behind murder investigations, unanswered calls, magic tricks, and whatever else happens to be nearby. At some point, you’re going to have to admit that something between the two of you isn’t working.”

Castle looked back toward the laptop, although he no longer seemed particularly interested in the article on the screen.

Martha let the silence sit between them for several seconds before speaking again. “What’s really happening with the two of you?”

Castle rubbed one hand along his jaw. “I don’t know.”

“That has rarely stopped you from talking before.”

He gave her a mildly offended look, but Martha simply waited.

Eventually, Castle sighed and leaned back against the stool. “Everything is fine.”

Martha’s eyebrows lifted.

Castle noticed immediately and continued before she could say anything. “That’s the problem. Everything is always fine. We go out to dinner, we talk about publishing, deadlines, schedules, books, whatever disaster happened at the office that week. We know exactly which habits annoy each other, and half the time we already know what the other person is going to say before they say anything.”

Martha studied him carefully. “That sounds like familiarity.”

“It feels ordinary.”

“And ordinary bothers you?”

Castle shook his head and looked toward the dark screen of his phone. “I don’t think ordinary is the problem. I just want something more than that.”

Martha’s expression softened, although she stayed quiet.

Castle stared at Gina’s name in the missed-call notification for another moment. “I want someone who can still surprise me. Someone who can walk into a room and somehow change the entire feeling of it. I want to look at that person and know there are still things about her I haven’t figured out.”

Martha’s eyebrows rose slightly.

Castle caught it immediately. “Don’t start, mother.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was merely listening.”

“With your eyebrows.”

A small smile touched Martha’s face. 

Castle shook his head and looked away again, although his thoughts remained on Gina.

“With her, everything feels like we’re trying to rebuild something because we remember the parts that used to work. We keep telling ourselves that this time we’re older, wiser, and somehow that’s supposed to make everything different.”

Martha rested one hand on the closed book. “Has it made anything different?”

Castle stayed silent.

That answered the question well enough.

When Martha spoke again, her voice was gentler. “Then maybe the real question isn’t whether the two of you can make the relationship work. Maybe it’s whether either of you still wants what you’re trying so hard to repair.”

Castle stared at the laptop for a while before his eyes drifted back toward the phone.

“I think we care about each other.”

“I’m sure you do.”

He exhaled slowly. “But I don’t think we’re in love anymore.”

The words came out more easily than Castle had expected.

Martha didn’t interrupt or try to soften them.

Castle gave a quiet sigh and rested one elbow against the counter. “We’ve tried before. Twice, technically. Now we’re trying again because we know each other, because there’s history, and because it seemed easier than admitting there might’ve been a reason it ended in the first place.”

He absently clicked onto another explosion report, barely reading the first paragraph.

“I don’t want something just because it’s familiar,” he continued. “I want something that still feels magical.”

Martha smiled faintly. “For once, darling, I don’t think that sounds entirely ridiculous.”

Castle barely seemed to hear her.

Something on the laptop had caught his attention.

He leaned closer to the screen.

The article covered a recent accident involving a small private aircraft. Most of the report focused on mechanical failure and property damage, but an attached photograph showed the owner standing proudly beside the aircraft sometime before the accident.

Castle stopped scrolling.

For several seconds, he simply stared at the plane.

Martha noticed the change in his expression immediately. One moment he’d been talking about Gina, while the next every trace of distraction had vanished from his face.

“What did you find?”

Castle enlarged the photograph.

Lanie’s explanation from the morgue came rushing back.

Organophosphates could be found in pesticides and insecticides. Certain nerve agents belonged to the same family of compounds. Some industrial lubricants contained them as well.

Including aviation oils.

Castle straightened slowly as the connection settled into place.

“Jet oil.”

Martha glanced toward the screen. “What about jet oil?”

Castle reached for his phone with one hand while keeping his eyes on the aircraft photograph. “The organophosphates Lanie found in Zalman’s nose and throat. She said certain aviation lubricants and jet-related oils could contain them.”

Martha looked from him to the photograph as his earlier frustration disappeared beneath a rush of excitement.

Castle snapped the laptop shut.

“What if Zalman wasn’t exposed to pesticides at all? What if he was somewhere around aircraft or aviation equipment shortly before he died?”

He grabbed his coat from the nearby chair and headed toward the door.

Martha watched him with growing amusement. 

Castle was already slipping into his coat. “I need to find Beckett before I talk myself out of this theory.”

A moment later, he disappeared through the doorway.

Martha looked toward the abandoned tea, the closed laptop, and the book she’d barely managed to read all afternoon. She shook her head, reopened it, and settled back into her chair.

“The search for magic can wait until after the murder investigation.”