Even Jack, along with Beckett, rarely saw Castle flounder during verbal sparring.
"Regardless, I'll always remember that 'special conversation' we had back in the day. I imagine Gareth must make you very happy—he certainly looks like he's from a well-to-do family, doesn't he?" Castle attempted a last-ditch counterattack.
Sheila Bryan's expression shifted through a kaleidoscope of emotions—dark frustration intermingled with flashes of white-hot irritation. The undeniable truth was that Castle was now a successful individual, and that was hard to refute.
In a capitalist society, the upper class might look down on nouveau riche individuals, even though wealth is a talent in itself. However, no one dismisses a successful artist.
As a bestselling author, Castle had earned his place among the elite. His talents and charm allowed him to navigate effortlessly across social strata, whether chatting with doormen or mayors.
Jack would bet that Sheila Bryan—who had nearly become Castle's mother-in-law—regretted her past actions. With the explosive success of the Nikki Heat series, Castle was once again on New York's list of the most eligible bachelors.
However, Sheila wasn't about to concede defeat. She took a deep breath, maintaining her composure. "Richard, this was never about money; it was about character. If you'd understood that earlier, Kyra wouldn't have left you."
With her parting words, Sheila turned and walked away with the dignity of a proud hen, leaving Castle momentarily stunned.
"Ouch," Beckett said, barely suppressing a grin. "Just imagine—if you'd stayed with Kyra, you'd be spending every Thanksgiving with her."
Castle shuddered at the thought, still brooding over his verbal defeat.
Jack clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "I was hoping for a teary confession—something about how she regretted breaking you two up and secretly wished for you and her daughter to rekindle your love."
"Ugh," Beckett gave Jack a look of disdain. "You've been reading too many trashy novels. I don't know why those cringe-worthy stories keep topping the bestseller charts."
"Oh, you mean Starting with 9/11: How I Saved the Twin Towers,End of the Empire: Florida's Homeless Savior of America, or The Soldier King Returns to Find His Wife and Daughter in a Slum, Leading Ten Thousand Special Forces for Revenge?"
Castle raised an eyebrow. "Sure, the novels are awful, but they make surprisingly entertaining short dramas."
"You mean the actresses are hot, right? And they always end up in swimsuits, don't they?" Beckett gave Castle a scornful look before answering her phone.
Jack wisely kept silent during this exchange, keenly aware that he might be the unintentional inspiration for their banter.
"Let's go. The missing groomsman, Mike Waits, has been found by hotel security," Beckett said, motioning for them to follow as she walked toward the other end of the corridor.
In a storage room, they found Mike Waits, disheveled, sweaty, and barely coherent, being helped out by security staff.
"Mr. Waits?"
"Mr. Waits?"
Beckett called out several times before raising her voice. "Mike!"
Mike flinched and turned to her, his face twisted in anger. "That b**** Sophie! Where is she? I'm going to kill her!"
"Well, you missed your chance," Castle quipped without a hint of tact.
Beckett's tone turned serious. "What happened?"
"That b**** drugged me and left me in there," Mike said, gasping for breath, still not fully recovered from whatever substance he had been given.
His disheveled state left little to the imagination about what might have transpired earlier.
Beckett summoned two officers to escort Mike back to his room. Jack conducted a quick examination, determining that Mike would be fine after hydrating to flush the residual drug from his system.
Once Mike appeared more lucid, Beckett resumed questioning. "Tell me what happened with Sophie last night."
Having just learned of Sophie's death, Mike's initial anger had given way to shock rather than grief.
"She came on to me—flirty, seductive. She lured me into that storage room and handed me a drink."
"The drugged drink?" Castle asked, working hard to maintain a neutral expression.
"Yes! What kind of person drugs a man? I mean, girls don't need to, right? They just have to ask," Mike said, gulping down a glass of water.
"Especially when she was wearing that lingerie and garters. Who could say no in that situation?"
"Hm." The two men standing opposite him nodded in unison.
Beckett shook her head, exasperated. "Did you two have any prior history?"
"No." Mike paused, then hurriedly elaborated, perhaps worried he'd be implicated in her death. "I mean, we met once at Gareth and Kyra's engagement party last year. She was the kind of girl who turns heads, but we didn't interact after that."
"Any idea why she might have drugged you?" Jack asked, handing him another glass of water.
Mike downed it in one go. "None at all. I'm completely clueless."
"Did she show any unusual emotions? Fear, anger, anxiety?" Beckett pressed.
Mike tilted his head, thinking. "It felt like she was really determined about something. Damn it—I should've known there's no such thing as a free lunch. Why would someone like her suddenly be interested in me?"
"Well, get some rest. If you remember anything else, let us know immediately," Beckett said, handing him a business card.
The three left Mike's room and returned to the bar, where guests were still gathered. Beckett suddenly paused, looking at Castle. "What was Sophie trying to do last night?"
Castle adopted a mock-serious pose. "She went to fetch the drug, so it must have been premeditated."
"Then she drugged Mike and locked him in a storage room? What kind of plan is that?" Jack said, unimpressed.
"Maybe…" Castle's eyes lit up as if struck by inspiration. Everyone waited for his grand theory.
"Sorry, I've got nothing."
"Ugh." Beckett ignored his antics and scanned the room, spotting Gareth Murphy sitting alone in a corner eating. She remembered they had intended to question the bride and groom further.
But as she turned, she realized Castle had vanished. "Where did he go?"
Jack shrugged. "Probably looking for the bride."
Beckett and Jack approached Gareth, who greeted them politely, displaying the manners of someone well-bred. However, his responses about Sophie provided little beyond vague recollections.
"When was the last time you saw Sophie?" Beckett asked.
"Probably the same as everyone else—after the rehearsal dinner in the bar. My uncle Teddy kept me drinking until about 1 a.m., when I sneaked back to my room. I don't know if Sophie was still there."
Jack noticed a flicker of hesitation in Gareth's eyes, though it lacked the guilt associated with lying. It seemed… odd.
"So, you didn't share a room with Kyra last night?" Jack asked, sensing a potential lead.
"Of course not. Tradition says it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding," Gareth replied, then frowned. "Though, considering everything, that seems like a pointless superstition now."
"Uh." Jack wisely held his tongue, realizing he had stumbled upon a tradition he hadn't known existed.
(End of Chapter)
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