My husband watched "Heartbreak Hotel" after I did, and at one point he said "Oh, don't tell me Beckett—" well, I won't tell you the rest of what he said, because that would spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say he guessed wrong, but his idea was interesting, and I told him it would lend itself to a fanfic. SO here we are. Just a one-shot.
"Detective Beckett. In my office, please." Captain Gates stood in her doorway, looking over at them.
"Yes, sir," Kate responded. Rick shot her a sympathetic yet smug 'Better you than me' glance, which vaporized off his face with the captain's next words. "Bring your…civilian investigator." No-one missed the derision in her voice.
They stood side by side, waiting, as she steepled her fingers and looked from one to the other. "It seems as though you two have made a friend in Atlantic City. One that is now asking for favors. I've tried to convince Mr. Turner that he should be requesting assistance from the police in his own city, but there's a large convention which has ACPD stretched thin, so they're more than happy to be flexible on the matter of jurisdiction. Head down to the Sapphire and he'll fill you in. Dismissed!" she snapped when they stood rooted.
Castle hastily reached for the door and held it open. He gestured Beckett ahead of him, gallantry winning out over his cowardly need to get out of the lion's den. Back at her desk they stared at each other, at a loss. Shrugging, Beckett grabbed her jacket and with a twirling motion of her finger, grumbled "Let's go and get this over with."
"What's the matter with you? Isn't it cool that they're asking for us?" Castle momentarily let his attention drift, his mind's eye conjuring their own personal version of the Bat Signal. The infamous Nikki Heat silhouette, framed by a castle turret. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk until something reminded him of the six different ways Beckett could end his life in five minutes or less. Exactly when had his inner governor started sounding like Esposito, anyway? He snapped out of his daydream to find she was staring at him expectantly. Oh. Now he was going to have to explain what he was smiling about.
Thinking fast, he supplied, "Besides, if they need our help and it runs into tomorrow, they'll comp us a room…uhh rooms," he hurriedly corrected. He remembered all too well what had *almost* happened in L.A., and though he'd love another chance, particularly given the frequency with which she seemed to be letting down her guard lately, he didn't want to push her and have her regret it later.
Two hours later they stood in Charlie Turner's office once again. Fighting the urge to scan the room for baseball bats, Castle braved the wrath of Beckett and spoke first. "So, what can New York's finest do for you now, Charlie?" The now sole owner of the casino gave Beckett an appraising glance that had Castle's territorial instincts on instant full alert, and he cursed his choice of words. She did, too, judging by the glare she was pinning him with.
"Mr. Turner, could we get to the reason why you called us down here?" she asked impatiently.
"Certainly, and I do appreciate you making the trip. One of my showgirls has gone missing, and I would like you two to look into it."
"What makes you so sure she's missing? People quit without notice all the time."
"Maybe other people do. Lisa wouldn't. Her father and I are, were, buddies since our school days. I know your people have a policy, 48 hours, blah blah blah, so police resources aren't wasted, but let me assure you, this won't wait. Something is wrong."
The three strategized for a while and decided that asking questions as they normally did, as a team, would be too visible, too obvious. Given that there was a celebrity poker tournament that night, Rick would make the rounds, asking 'research' questions, while Beckett would pose as an employee of the casino and see what she could glean from the staff. They parted company, agreeing to meet later that night in private to exchange notes and theorize.
When Richard Castle was in the presence of a beautiful woman, flirting came as naturally as breathing, and better still, there was something familiar about the showgirl approaching him. Assuming she was one of the ones he'd gotten tickets from, he favored her with his most charming smile. As she drew nearer, he let himself get lost for a second, his eyes tracing the graceful curves that the vibrant red costume accentuated. Definitely a dancer's body, maybe even classical ballet, he mused, and felt a little sad that this woman had had to forsake a more artistic pursuit in favor of one that probably paid the bills better. His gaze moved up past the surprisingly modest neckline and the fuzzy shoulder straps, to the elaborate headdress. As the dancer got within arm's reach, he idly wondered how long it took to apply the gold tipped eye lashes, but they certainly accentuated the eyes. Those eyes, just like…the recognition slammed into him so hard it physically moved him backward a step. Her name formed and stalled on his lips. Her dazzling smile hadn't faltered, but her eyes were telegraphing pages of warnings about not blowing her cover.
Morgan, the concierge at his elbow, looked at him with concern. "Mr. Castle, are you alright?"
Her words snapped him out of his frozen stance. "Yes, fine, fine." He followed as she led the way to the poker table, shooting one last befuddled look at his partner before breaking eye contact. Entering the small function room, she indicated a seat at the far table. As he removed his jacket, he noticed her glancing around to be certain she was not overheard.
"I see you found that dancer attractive. If you so desire, I could arrange for a…private…performance?"
His breath caught in his throat as he grasped her meaning. His mind flew back to the matter of 'focused' massages and he began to wonder if this sort of undercurrent ran through all casinos or just the Sapphire. 'Everyone's a winner' indeed. Returning his attention to Morgan, he tried to smooth over his reaction. "Yes, now that you mention it. If I win tonight, I'll want someone to celebrate with. If not, well then it certainly would be nice to have someone to help me forget my misfortune." He rifled through his mental files. Twice during his partnership with Beckett he had made arrangements for 'companionship' with persons of interest, but this was different. This WAS Beckett. He had to make sure to ask the right questions so that the case didn't fall apart as entrapment. Studying Morgan's face, he carefully added, "I wasn't aware that that service was included in the tournament."
Morgan smiled shrewdly. "It isn't, but when I come across a person that I believe would be…interested in the upgrade package, I make the offer."
"I see. I don't imagine it would be wise to have this 'upgrade' appear on my room charges, so how much will you require to make these 'arrangements'?" If Beckett only knew that he was negotiating for her services…he fought a shudder.
She produced a slip of paper from her clipboard and handed it to him. 'A+ for preparation' he thought as he processed the two strings of numbers. The first was the price, ten thousand dollars. The second was a routing/account combination, presumably for a wire transfer. Producing his phone he accessed the banking application and made the transfer. Her phone chimed and she nodded with satisfaction at the completed transaction.
During the tournament he asked some discrete questions and found that there were several other men who had purchased the 'upgrade' package, all through Morgan. He couldn't wait to be finished so that he could re-unite with Kate. With so much on his mind, he didn't think he'd be able to outsmart his opponents, but he was fortunate enough to detect the 'tells' of the two strongest players. Armed with that knowledge he emerged victorious.
While the cashier counted his chips, he checked his watch. Morgan had said that 'the dancer' would arrive at his suite within fifteen minutes. He hurried to the elegantly decorated set of rooms and waited. When a knock sounded on his door moments later, he tried to put on his most casual expression, and swung the door open. There, as promised was Beckett, 'escorted' by the burliest, most intimidating security guard in the place. Rick stepped aside but fortunately was fast enough to catch his partner as she was not-so-gently shoved into the room. She stumbled and he steadied her on her feet, but she continued to hang on him.
"Thanks, baby," she purred. He'd seen her when she turned on the charm, she had acting skills that Mother would be proud of. Still, there was something off. He looked down into her slightly unfocused gaze. Oh, hell.
"What's wrong with her?" he demanded of her handler.
"Nothing a night's sleep won't fix, assuming you let her sleep. Just a little something to put her in the mood. She was taking too much convincing, and the customers get what or who they want." The guy laughed, but it was an ugly sound.
"A drugged girl wasn't part of the deal."
The meathead smiled and shrugged. "She'll show you a good time, and that was the deal."
An alarm bell clanged in Rick's head but he was careful to phrase his question so that it didn't sound like he was personally invested. "How…do you know what she'll do?" he asked, giving Kate a visual once-over.
"Easy, buddy, I don't sample the merchandise. I just know. Have a nice party. When you're done with her, if she's still awake, give her this," he continued, handing Rick a small bottle with a single tablet in it. "She'll sleep it off, and we'll come get her before you've checked out." He left before Rick could comment further.
Closing the door, Castle led Kate over to the bed. The headdress was gone, but she was still in the fuzzy red showgirl outfit. He knelt before her and studied her expression. She was still smiling, one of those dopey fan-girl smiles that he was used to seeing in the third hour of his release parties. Double hell. He weighed the option of calling paramedics for her. He went for a more low-key option.
"Lanie, it's Castle. Yeah, listen, I'm pretty sure Beckett's been roofied. Long story, case related, but do I need to get her to a hospital or what? Watch her, right, not a problem at all. Coffee? Oh, water. Right, flush it out, don't dehydrate her. Great, thanks. No, you know I'll take good care of her."
He returned to Kate, who he'd gotten situated against the pillows so she didn't fall over and hurt herself. He poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. She favored him with a starry-eyed look as she accepted it. "Hi…"
"Hey, Beckett. How are you feeling?"
"I feel shiny. It's fun, you should try it."
"I think you're having enough fun for both of us, thanks," he replied patiently.
"Noooooo, we should have some fun together. C'mon Castle, I know you want to, I see the way you look at me." She walked her fingers up his arm and stroked his cheek, before walking them back down and pulling at his shirt tail. He stilled her hand with a firm but gentle grip.
"Honey, under any other circumstance, that would be an amazing idea. This, however is nowhere near the right time."
She pouted at him for spoiling her fun, before dropping off to sleep. He made certain she was tucked in, before going in to take a shower. Cold water first, to put a damper on what she had inspired in him, then hot to relax the tension in his shoulders. It gave him time to think. It sucked in more ways than one that his partner, his sounding board, was incapacitated. Once he had exited the shower, dried himself and dressed in casual clothes, he called Charlie Turner.
"I think I know what happened to Lisa. Can you come to my suite? Try to make sure no one sees you coming here."
Charlie arrived moments later, concern furrowing his brow. Rick admitted him and showed him the sleeping Beckett, before gesturing to the sitting room. He recounted what had happened so far that night, which had the owner swearing roundly. "Who was the security guard?"
"I don't know, but I just discovered that the bottle with the sleeping pill has a phone extension number on it. I was thinking I could call to have her picked up, and you could see for yourself."
Rick made the call and Charlie hid out of sight. When the large man arrived, he leered at Rick, turning his stomach. "Done so soon? She looked like she had more party in her than that. Sorry, we don't give refunds."
"What have you done in the past if a customer wasn't satisfied?"
"Oh, it depends. We had one customer recently that kept trying to get his satisfaction. It didn't end well, for the girl OR for him." He punctuated the statement with another ugly laugh.
"You sonofabitch" Charlie ground out as he stepped into view. "What did you do with Lisa?"
Rick quickly crossed to the door to admit the police officers, who hurried in to break up the scuffle. When the big man had been hauled off in cuffs, Charlie turned to shake Rick's hand. "Thanks, again. And thank Detective Beckett for me, when she wakes up?" He handed Rick the duffle bag with Kate's street clothes from the dressing room, before exiting into the hall.
Rick settled into the armchair and dozed off. He awoke to his name being spoken in an incredulous tone. "Castle? What the heck am I doing here? Why am I still dressed like this?"
"Well, in answer to the second question, because although you were willing to let me help you out of your clothing a few hours ago, for the sake of my future, I chose to decline. Which leads me to the first question." Reluctantly he told her all that had happened. They were interrupted by the ringing of the room line. "Oh hi Charlie. Really. Sang like a canary, did he? She was where? And she'll make a full recovery? Excellent news. Thanks for calling." He relayed the information to Kate. "Lisa is ok. Meathead brought her to a cousin's house after the drug cocktail put her so far under that no one could wake her. Turns out all she needed was more time for her body to rid itself of the chemicals. And despite the dark persona he displays, the big mook apparently has a bit of a conscience, because the guy who went for extra satisfaction is now healing from several broken bones."
Kate's face had gone beet red at first, both because of what he'd told her about her actions, and because she was angry and mortified that she'd been drugged so easily. She gratefully accepted the bag of clothing and headed into the other room to change. When she returned she thanked him for taking care of her. "Always," he replied. "Oh, and, nice legs!"
There you have it. Thank you for taking the time to read. I must say it was a challenge coming up with a reasonably plausible plot to go with the little of idea of "Show Girl Beckett". Please let me know what you think of my effort. Reviews are amazing, wonderful, happy making little messages!