Henry looked at Martinez, who was watching him eagerly, and said, "Joe, you have no idea. I happen to have the original forensic manuscript from that old case. Apart from Scotland Yard, it's the most authoritative and comprehensive forensic investigation record. Now, the case we're facing, except for one detail—the shape of the wounds on the victim's wrist mistakenly reported by the Manchester Star—the other wounds and cuts perfectly replicate those detailed in the old newspaper's report.
This means that unless the killer had access to the original records kept at Scotland Yard, they must have meticulously referred to the newspaper's reports to recreate the crime scene precisely.
And look at this registry book. In recent years, the only person who borrowed that article was the detective who originally handled the case. The killer is leaving us a riddle, mocking us..."
Martinez picked up Henry's train of thought, "So, we can confirm the killer has been here. But what next? We only know they used a pseudonym to borrow the newspaper, which doesn't help much with the investigation."
Martinez's reaction was precisely what Castle had predicted. It wasn't exactly a trap set by Castle; he merely anticipated that brilliant detectives like Beckett and Martinez might fall into this typical oversight. Given Henry's and his own reputations, the two female detectives naturally let their guard down around them.
Castle and Henry's plan relied on this trust. By subtly and gradually influencing the detectives' thinking without presenting any direct opinions, they aimed for the detectives to draw their own conclusions. This way, Beckett and Martinez would believe the final conclusions were their own, making them more convincing.
Castle and Henry's ultimate goal was for the detectives to accept that this case was likely a cold case. After some time pursuing leads without new evidence, they'd abandon the investigation.
Henry remembered Castle's instructions. An experienced veteran like Henry didn't need Castle to tell him what to do. But he went along with Castle out of gratitude for his help in settling an old score.
"Joe, this is all Rick and I have found these past two days. There's nothing else. After all, I'm just a forensic scientist, and Rick is merely a writer!"
Henry's feigned disappointment made Detective Martinez laugh. She realized perhaps her expectations of them were too high; after all, they weren't real detectives, just a forensic scientist and a writer.
Martinez wasn't mocking Henry; instead, she comforted him, "Henry, you and Castle coming up with this lead is already impressive. You're not police officers and don't have the authority to investigate. Don't worry; we still have time! But this registry is probably the only clue. What do you think?"
Henry felt guilty for misleading Martinez. The truth was too shocking to reveal. Martinez's comfort made Henry even more reluctant to speak.
Martinez mistook Henry's silence for disappointment over losing a lead. The beautiful detective stood up, took the registry to be copied by the library staff, and left Henry alone.
Henry, amused by Martinez's misunderstanding, decided to let her continue her mistaken assumptions. He patiently waited for her to finish copying the registry.
Meanwhile, Castle noticed Beckett was beginning to be led astray by his words.
After pondering for a while, Beckett asked, "Castle, what do you think of this case now?"
"Personally, I believe the killer is unlikely to appear again soon, if ever."
"Reason?"
"My stance remains the same. Since they left a clue at the first crime scene and have remained silent for days, it's highly likely they left New York or met with some accident. Our current information is too sparse to continue the investigation without more evidence."
Castle's focus was on a secretive elephant figurine on Beckett's desk as he nonchalantly answered her.
"The victim was a call girl. Do you think a client could have killed her?"
"I'm not sure. We'll have to rely on Esposito's investigation. But my intuition says it's unlikely. The victim wasn't new to the job, and Dr. Henry believes she was chosen because of her alias, Mary Kelly—the name of a victim in Jack the Ripper's case. So, I think the killer deliberately targeted her."
Castle was putting in a lot of effort to mislead Beckett, leveraging her trust in him. He wanted her to believe that based on the current evidence, this case might remain unsolved unless the killer strikes again, providing more clues.
Standing before the whiteboard filled with case photos, Beckett reluctantly acknowledged Castle's point. Their only hope was Detective Martinez bringing back good news from the New York Public Library.
Henry and Martinez left the library together, with Martinez asking, "Henry, are you heading back to the precinct or your forensic office?"
"I'll head back to the forensic office. I've taken a few days off, and there's a lot of work piled up. By the way, give me a copy of that registry. I'll take another look when I get back."
"Sure, here you go. I'll head back to the precinct. If you find any more clues, let me know immediately!"
After giving Henry a copy, Martinez sped off. Henry stayed, looking at the copy in his hand. He planned to compare it with a letter Adam had sent him, suspecting it to contain clues.
He didn't doubt Castle's intentions but preferred to handle things himself.
"Joe, how did it go? Only one signature? Confirmed as a pseudonym? Alright, got it."
Beckett didn't receive the good news she hoped for. Once again, Castle's prediction came true, and the lead from the New York Public Library went cold.
"So, did Henry find anything?" Castle asked, feigning concern.
Beckett glared at him, "You were right again. Joe found a pseudonym in the library's records, but that's it—no further leads."
Castle, the cause of all this, showed no remorse but knew he couldn't push his luck further. He stood up to leave.
"Beckett, I'll head home to organize our work from the past month and start writing the first Nikki Heat book! Let me know if there are any new developments."
As Castle entered the elevator, a contemplative look appeared in Beckett's eyes.
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