What's the difference between a boyfriend and a lover? One is something that can be made public, while the other is usually kept secret.
Throughout the investigation, no one mentioned Dr. Monroe having a boyfriend. As for the former drug lord, even Castle had trouble determining what kind of relationship they shared.
After all, $40,000 a month for a private doctor who cares five days a week isn't an outrageous price. But if it's for a mistress, while it's a bit less, perhaps it's a friendship price?
However, the dilemma wasn't the boyfriend or lover, but rather the slight disagreement over whether Greg was lying.
"At least I don't see any signs of deception in his micro-expressions," Jack said, temporarily leaving the interrogation room. Beckett nodded slightly in agreement.
Castle's expression was immediately smug. He quickly walked over to the evidence board in the middle of the office and pointed to the photos of Dr. Monroe's body being found.
"He's lying. Look at this photo, and that one. There's no bracelet on the body's wrist."
"Then look up." Jack gestured for him to look up. At the very top of the evidence board was a surveillance screenshot. It was taken on the night of Dr. Monroe's murder, during a meeting with Investigator Leonard Maloney.
"..." Cassel paused mid-air, exclaiming, "Greg isn't lying. Dr. Monroe was wearing a bracelet the night of her murder."
While the surveillance screenshots weren't perfectly clear, they were good enough. Just as they could identify Leonard Maloney from his profile, the bracelet on Dr. Monroe's left hand was also faintly discernible.
"Where did it go after that?" Beckett picked up the phone on the desk, unable to believe they had overlooked this earlier.
A moment later, the beautiful detective put down the phone, "The forensic team said they are very sure that no bracelets or other ornaments were found at the scene, including in the coffin."
"Of course they were taken away by the murderer." Cassel quickly regained his arrogant look, "Greg said this was a special gift for Dr. Monroe and it was very precious, but he obviously didn't refer to its price."
Jack took the photo off the evidence board and examined it carefully, "Is it my illusion? Why does this bracelet give me a sense of déjà vu?"
Cassel looked at Beckett with a proud smile, "Can you recognize this turquoise bracelet?"
Perhaps because of women's natural sensitivity to items such as jewelry, Beckett also smiled knowingly, "Yes, we have seen similar designs not long ago."
-
"Do we really not need to notify the SWAT team or something?" Standing at the door of the hotel suite, Cassel seemed to have just woken up, and looked at Jack timidly.
"We might be arresting a drug lord who dominated Colombia twenty years ago."
"No, Calderón is just a sixty-something with a heart condition. Besides, this isn't his base of operations, just a suite in a luxury hotel."
Jack patted his sidearm with amusement. "If you're worried about a shootout, go back to the car and put on your bulletproof vest with 'WRITER' written on it."
As if recalling someone's heroic killing spree in Paris, the great writer puffed out his chest and rang the doorbell with a fearless air.
This time, the FBI, the writer, and the detective were once again the trio, and they were greeted by the former drug lord Calderón and his brother Manuel.
"Detectives, and Mr. Cassel, are there any developments in Valerie's murder case?"
A slight difference from last time: this time, Calderón already had a half-full glass of whiskey in hand. His alcoholism might have contributed to his frail health, despite being only in his early sixties.
His younger brother, Manuel, stood silently behind him, as before.
Beckett answered, "Perhaps. We've made some progress, but first, we want to know what your relationship with Dr. Monroe is."
"I've said it before. She's my personal physician and my lifesaver." Calderon swirled the whiskey, now mostly melted by the ice, and took a sip, maintaining his bossy demeanor.
Cassel found a seat on the sofa, facing him. "But from what you said before, your relationship isn't that simple.
I wouldn't go to the park for a romantic getaway with my personal physician. That's something I'd do with my girlfriend."
As if sensing something was amiss, Calderon, who was quite sensitive and familiar with certain tones, narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze taking on a sinister tone.
"Passionate attraction between a man and a woman isn't a crime, is it? Is there anything to question, Detective?"
Calderon raised his glass and gestured towards Beckett.
"You're right, but a crime of passion is a different matter, especially a murder of passion," Beckett retorted bluntly, pulling out the photograph again and handing it to Cassel. Calderon
happily took the photo and showed it to him. Then came the beloved trope of every detective fan, and even the most prolific author:
Summarizing clues and using deduction to uncover the truth, forcing a confession from the murderer.
"That necklace you have around your neck is beautiful, Mr. Calderon," Cassel showed him the photograph, his finger touching Dr. Monroe's wrist.
"We noticed a similar design to the bracelet Dr. Monroe wore the night she was murdered."
"That's because I gave it to Valerie as a token of my admiration for her." Calderon removed the necklace from his neck and held it up to the three of them.
"The bracelet once belonged to my mother, and this necklace to my father. They're a pair."
"A family heirloom?" Cassel said, expectantly. "No wonder you want it back."
"I don't understand," Calderon said, his voice hoarse, his expression slightly puzzled.
Meanwhile, Jack's gaze fell on the middle-aged man behind the drug lord. Compared to the visibly bewildered Calderón, his brother Manuel seemed a bit uneasy.
"When we found Dr. Monroe's body, we didn't find the bracelet. Someone took it, but left behind the wallet and phone. I don't need to explain what this means, right?"
Cassel's expression gradually grew serious, and his tone now became truly questioning. "What exactly happened? Did you have an argument, or has the once cold and ruthless Calderón returned?
No longer the well-mannered, wine-sipping, seemingly refined old gentleman we see before us?"
(End of chapter)