Just because the sea is calm doesn't mean there aren't lurking volcanoes poised to erupt. Take Beckett's overly calm expression.
Just ten minutes ago, perhaps because the night was too cold, the couple on the rooftop across from them, after reminiscing about their happy past, embraced. Jack and Hannah could clearly hear the crackling of Beckett's knuckles as he clenched his fist.
There was no need for lip reading, because for the next five minutes, the two people on the rooftop didn't part their lips.
"Shouldn't we stop them?" Hannah glanced at Jack, then, somewhat fearfully, glanced at Beckett.
Jack, like her, was also secretly glancing at the female inspector. He looked away and shook his head. "Cassell may be a bit foolish, but his moral standards aren't that low. Keira is a thing of the past for him."
Of course, this was false, and perhaps even the opposite was true, but with two women standing beside him, it was all he could do.
Generally speaking, if one knows for sure that they won't be held responsible or face any subsequent trouble, then dealing with an ex-girlfriend or someone else's fiancée is a positive attack speed buff for most men, especially if they're dealing with both.
After all, no one likes being the "minotaur" or the "victim," but the popularity of NTR is due to the fact that most people identify with the character.
Of course, this isn't possible in real life, as dealing with an ex-girlfriend, someone else's girlfriend, fiancée, or even wife always spells trouble, and the combination of the two is even more problematic.
As a middle-aged man with two exes, Castle clearly understands this better than anyone else, so Jack believes that, even setting aside the moral issues, he wouldn't be so foolish.
Sure enough, after the two left the rooftop, the three tracking men breathed a sigh of relief when they saw Castle put Kayla in a taxi and wave goodbye to the roadside.
Someone had, in fact, passed the test, as evidenced by the slightly upturned corner of Beckett's mouth as he left.
The next morning, when Jack and Hannah arrived at the 12th Precinct with some documents, they encountered a man and woman with a slightly eerie atmosphere.
Castle sat at his desk, silent, while Beckett, head down, worked away, ignoring him. The coffee between them had already stalemate, a sign that they had been in this state for a while. They hadn't even noticed the two FBI agents standing nearby.
Finally, feeling guilty, Castle couldn't stand the stalemate, which felt like a cold war, and chose to confess. "I met her yesterday."
Seeing him, seemingly obedient and resigned to his actions, like a schoolboy confessing to his parents, Beckett struggled to maintain a straight face, staring at him intently. Finally, unable to contain herself, she pulled out a few photos from the files under her hand.
"I know."
"What?"
Castle looked at the photos of himself and Kayla's tryst on the "secret rooftop," especially the close-ups of them kissing. He looked at Beckett in disbelief, then spotted the two FBI agents approaching.
When people's shameful secrets are exposed, besides the social embarrassment of feeling socially devastated, the most common reaction is anger. Cassel is not an ordinary person. He is even more curious about why. "Are you spying on me? And you guys?"
"It's not you. It's Kayla who's under surveillance. She's the suspect." Beckett tried to pull off a cover-up, but Castle outed him.
"Come on, Sophie's death was an isolated crime of passion. I know you, you wouldn't waste police resources on something like that."
"I didn't waste police resources. I took the photos myself. I had to make sure you didn't do anything stupid, but you did anyway." Beckett laid it all out.
"So you're the principal, and these two bored FBI agents are accomplices, right?"
Castle, in a childish attempt to provoke a debate with a questioning tone, divert the conversation and everyone's attention, before quietly stealing the photos from under their noses.
"Alexis told me that she eavesdropped on your phone call with Kayla, but she didn't know where your 'secret roof' was, so she asked Martha."
Hannah said as she slapped away Cassel's thieving hand, took the photos from his hand and admired them, "The angle is perfect, so photography is also your hobby, dear?"
In fact, Beckett and Cassel had the same opinion on something, "Are you two really so idle? The FBI has no case for you? Give me back the photos. If Kayla is really the murderer, this may become evidence in court."
"Of course Kayla is not the murderer." Without waiting for Cassel to argue for his old lover again, Jack raised the information in his hand, "We two idle people have helped you lock in the suspect. Since you are so ungrateful, we will not bother you anymore."
Cassel's subsequent performance perfectly interpreted what it means to be rude at first and respectful later. Not only did he respectfully give up his seat and invite the two to sit down, he also specially made two cups of coffee and served them personally.
Hannah took a sip, her eyes flashing with amazement. "Your police station's coffee is so much better than the rag-water we use at the FBI,"
Beckett explained, clutching his forehead. "The day after Castle became the department's consultant, he sponsored a $1,600 espresso machine because he was dissatisfied with our coffee."
Jack also tasted it and exclaimed, "Wow, it seems that when our Most Wanted Unit is officially established, we should also invite a talented writer to be our consultant."
"I can sponsor a complete kitchen set, as long as you invite me to every party." Castle was eager. "Who is the murderer? Do you have evidence?"
"We lack direct evidence at the moment, but we have sufficient circumstantial evidence and a clear motive. This should be enough for you to apply for a search warrant," Jack said, placing the documents on Beckett's desk.
The case wasn't complicated. It's just that as a local police department, the NYPD has a somewhat cumbersome process for accessing out-of-state records, especially those in other states. It's much easier to have the FBI handle this kind of thing.
"You suspect it's Teddy Murphy, the groom Gretl's uncle?" Cassel couldn't wait to flip through the file and immediately recognized the chubby old man. He had appeared at the 12th Precinct yesterday as Gretl's lawyer.
(End of this chapter)