The Stewardess and the Sleepless Author

by Gunney

Castle has been having trouble sleeping lately, no thanks to the dormant evildoers of the city, until they see fit to drop, literally, a new case in his lap.

Chapter One

From where he sat in the coffee shop he had a good view of most of the street. The early morning sun was crisp, piercing through the dust floating in the air in that indefinable way that made it absolutely clear that it was too early. He hadn't slept that night, nor the night before it, and it took a few sips of black coffee for him to mentally add the hours since he had last been willingly unconscious. He caught a bleary reflection of himself in the dark, mirrored surface of the brew and he groaned, shifted in his coat and took a deep draw.

A complimentary donut, complete with bright pink frosting and sprinkles, sat beside him untouched on a white porcelain plate. "Have A Bright and Caffeinated Day" had been printed in a childlike font around the edge of the plate and a sprinkle had fallen off the donut making the statement seem more exciting than it actually was. The blank legal pad in front of him didn't match the color scheme of the plate and the donut. It would be hard to match that color scheme, he didn't hold it against the legal pad. His fountain pen still rested, capped, in his coat pocket, dormant along with the rest of him.

He stared contentedly at his steaming beverage and imagined what it would be like to be laying on an inner tube, in the heat of summer, drifting along on the surface of the coffee in his cup. He could see his tiny self there, one hand out, fingertips barely dipped into the glassy surface. The smell of skin baking in the sun, sweat, stagnate water and roasting rubber mixing with the vaporous sweetness of chlorophyll.

He took another sip of coffee. The tiny him started to scream, horrified at the huge shadow looming over the black lake, the sudden inversion of reality, clutching desperately at the slick surface of the inner tube. The murky liquid of the coffee lake started to spiral downward into the terrifying maw of the slimy, unshaven, unproductive sea monster, his tiny self slipping uncontrolled down its throat, into its stomach, mixing with the heartburn inducing remains of pizza, beer and cheap pasta.

Music befitting a B-movie horror scene raged in his inner-ear, mingling with the blood curdling scream that his tiny self emitted. A tiny shark chased after the doomed tiny man, creating even more tiny danger in the pit of his stomach.

"Castle!"

Someone was screaming his name. Screaming in dismay at his untimely end. Oh the horror of it all.

"Hey, Castle. Snap out of it."

Beckett snapped her fingers again three inches from Castle's face and waited for a reaction. Rick remained motionless, still staring into his coffee cup, half raised to his mouth. His eyes half open. She couldn't tell if he was conscious.

Reaching a hand out she carefully pried the cup out of Castle's hand, setting it on the table before she bent closer to his ear, took a deep breath, and whispered to him.

She moved back about an inch before she heard the quietly rumbled, "Huh?"

She leaned forward again, a smile quirking at her lips, and shouted, "We just got a call!"

Castle jerked away from her, his eyes flashing a mix of hurt and humor at her as he poked at his offended ear, as if that would protect it from future assault.

Behind Beckett, Esposito and Ryan stood smirking in a splash of sunlight. Both had taken advantage of their location and purchased overpriced coffees of uncertain quality. They were cops. And didn't much care.

"Good morning, Detective Beckett." Castle returned to his upright, yet slouched, position, and reached for his cup of coffee, rescuing the last few drops.
"You look like hell, Castle." Kate said cheerfully. Castle proved himself a better man and refused to pout, glare, or grimace. Instead he grumbled under his breath as he slid out of the booth he had occupied since the wee hours, grabbed up his unused legal pad and dug a tip out of his wallet.

"Sticks and stones, Detective. I haven't slept in three days, which makes me very grumpy. I also haven't had anything healthy to eat in four days, which makes me invincible." He declared, and gave a two fingered salute to the curly haired brunette behind the counter. Ryan and Esposito had started out the door the minute Castle started to move, and now stood holding open the double doors at the entrance, making sure the flies could get in and Castle and Beckett could get out without difficulty.

"Eating like a pig makes him invincible?" Ryan asked.

"Iron stomach. Anybody shoots him there he won't need his vest. It'll just bounce off." The two detectives toasted each other with their Styrofoam, recyclable, heat resistant cups and followed the detective and the mystery writer down the street.

"I was on the brink, the very brink of literary genius. I want you to know that."

"You were mumbling into your coffee cup, Castle. And black coffee at that."

"How very observant of you." Castle poked his finger at Kate as she turned away from him. At first he thought she was avoiding the poke. Then he realized that she was turning toward the crosswalk, about to cross the street and had to skip to the side to keep from backtracking. Kate didn't stop, wait or skip a beat.

"I'm a trained detective. We're paid to be observant."

"Did you realize that the root of the word "observant" is 'servant'?"

Kate's glare spoke volumes, both to the obnoxious writer and to the two detectives pursuing them. Castle ignored the look and blazed onward through the veil of sarcasm. "And did you realize that American's tendency to say the word "observant" with the long 'z' sound is incorrect. It should in fact be pronounced 'ob-cer-vant'. But there'd be so many people hacking and spitting in every one else's face while they commented on how 'ob-cer-vant' they were that no one would say the word any more."

"How long has it been since you've slept last?" Kate asked, exchanging concerned and mildly frightened looks with her junior detectives before she lifted the yellow tape that narrowed the minds of criminal investigators the world over, and drew the immediate attention of just about everyone else.

"Ooh, a crime!" Castle replied, his voice instantly lost in the buzz of people, machines and distant sirens.

The alley had been crammed with as many police vehicles, cops and firemen as was possible. The tape had been stretched from building to building and barely encompassed the scene itself. Both buildings were brick and wood, about seven stories and had pointless windows facing into the alley. Between them, resting at an awkward angle was a twisted heap of metal scaffolding and fire escape. Two firemen, dressed needlessly in all of their fire fighting gear were manfully working a set of Jaws of Life in amongst the mess of metal, occasionally handing bits of twisted steel and aluminum through the hole they had created, to other overdressed firemen.

"Is it a crime?" Castle asked, after a moment of 'long z' observation.

"We're assuming."

"We know." Said a new voice and Castle smirked down at Laney, the lovely coroner that looked good in spotlights and admired his knowledge of death. "Castle, you look like hell."

"She's ob-"

"Shut up, Castle." Kate said and nodded toward the maze of metal and firefighters. "We find the body yet?"

"Working on it. Get close enough and you can smell it. From olfactory senses alone I can tell you it's been there a few days. Yesterday's 90 degree high didn't help it any."

Kate nodded her head toward a white couple, wearing fuzzy slippers and robes and staring dumbfounded at the collection of New York's finest. "Those the neighbors?"

Laney shrugged. "We've had a few gawkers, but those are the only hangers-on so far."

"Ryan, Esposito?"

"On it." Was the reply and both detectives reached into their coat pockets for their note pads, turning toward the first potential key witnesses of the day.

"Don't tell me. That's space junk, that just fell from the sky. Some astronaut killed his wife, took her up with him in a shuttle, then dumped her along with the primary rockets into the Earth's orbit, providing him with the necessary alibi to get away with his heinous crime, knowing that she wouldn't plummet back to the earth until now." Castle schemed, his most ponderous look on his face.

"You haven't been sleeping have you." Laney asked, and shook her head.

"I think part of that is a fire escape." Kate said, tilting her head to the side. Unwittingly Castle and Laney did the same, each nodding in agreement. "And...scaffolding." Castle added, taking a step closer, then squatting down.

"Window washing scaffolding." He confirmed.

"How can you tell?"

"That's a pulley there." Castle pointed and out of nowhere a cop with a camera walked over to the pulley, squatted beside it and took a picture.

Laney and Beckett joined the writer quietly studying the tangle of metal. "So the scaffolding was up there.." Beckett pointed at the brick building, her finger aimed at the top story. Against the dark, sun-stained brick there was a white, dusty outline indicating where each of the levels of the fire escape had once been bolted to the side of the building. "...beside the fire escape and…what? The ropes broke?"

"Could be an accident." Laney offered, managing to shrug with her arms crossed.

"Could be the ropes were cut. Could be anything at this point. I'm going to check it out. Let me know when you reach the body." Kate said, and turned without preamble, heading for the building.

"Castle." Laney asked, staring at the man who continued to stare at the top of the building. "Castle?"

"Hmm?"
"She's gone…"

"Oh…" Castle jumped, looking around as if he'd just been told that he was standing in the middle of a busy intersection.

"Inside…" Laney offered helpfully and shook her head as the quirky writer skipped a few steps before jogging toward the front of the building she pointed to. "That man has not been sleeping well." She said softly, then looked back as another long, gray, twisted bit of metal worked it's way to the disgard pile.

The inside of the building was just about as exciting as the outside. Each of the seven floors had a different color scheme ranging from mildew green to tornado yellow. The sad truth was that they had all begun the same color, and it was likely that no one had re-painted the hallways since the building was built. Fourteen sets of stairs later Castle's caffeine enhanced pulse was pounding away reminding him of all the sleeping that he hadn't been doing, but his brain dismissed the message, taking in the relatively pleasant view of the city-scape, and the definitely pleasant view of Detective Beckett, pondering said 'scape with her back turned to the door. Her hands were perched on her petite hips, pushing her jacket back just so, defining enough of her waist to make her look womanly, without reducing the strength in the curve of her jaw, or the discipline in the muscle tone of her back, arms and legs.

"Nice view." Castle commented, smirking in a caddish manner. Kate turned far enough to deliver a sidelong glare then turned back to the view.

"I doubt our vic' was sight seeing."

"He had nothing to look at." Castle agreed, bobbing his brows and giving the irresistible boyish grin that had won him just about every woman in his life except Kate. He still had high hopes.

"Cute."

Edging toward the two foot wall that acted as a meager parapet Castle peered down at the flashing lights, and the ant hill of workers and police officials.

"Long way down."

His comment, while not Shakespearean, was met by silence and he glanced over at her contemplative look. "Why yes Castle. How obs-"

She glared at him and he stopped himself mid-sentence.

"It's not long enough."

"Huh?"

"Think about it, Castle. A man weighs between 190 and 220 pounds. Plus the weight of the scaffolding, presumably hanging somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor. It should have been attached to struts or braces on the roof of the building but there aren't any here."

Kate stepped forward enough to point out the deep gouges that had been cut into the concrete barrier, about seven feet apart from each other. "But there are these deep gouges. The braces themselves are completely gone. A snapped rope wouldn't have done that."

"Must have been the space junk."

"Genius, Castle. Is your next book going to be, "Nikki Heat in Space?"

"Only if you'll wear spandex."

She glared and he decided to clarify. He also decided that he should clarify about the crime, and not about his concept of Nikki Heat in spandex.

"A falling scaffold wouldn't tear the braces away like that. But something falling on the scaffold would."

"Sure…if this were a novel."

"Novels can be based in real life." Castle said. "Like when Barnum wrote a pamphlet on the she-elephant that was hanged for murder."

"What?"

"They hanged an elephant."

Kate groaned and shook her head turning back toward the roof access door.

"They did!" Castle insisted at her back, before going back to the edge. Taking a knee for the sake of his lack of sleep and vertigo the writer leaned out into the open space between earth and sky and stared down at the heap of garbage that more than likely contained a human corpse. Hanging around with Kate Beckett, talented and brilliant homicide detective that she was, he had smelled a number of dead bodies in his time. Rick Castle was a man of powerful influence and steel courage, but like any other sane person he avoided the smell of decaying flesh whenever possible.

With the sun cresting still it wouldn't take long for the heat of the day to spill into the cool alley and the smell of the body to increase exponentially. As he pondered this, the stillness of his muscles began to once more lull him toward sleep, and he unwittingly lay his cheek against the cool concrete, closing his eyes. He took in a deep, preparatory breath then jerked up, fully awake as his brain worked to put a name to the coppery scent that hit him.

Blood! Shifting forward Castle's head popped over the lip of the edge of the building and he cast his gaze directly down, scanning the brick siding. Not more than a foot below him was a large smear of dried, lumpy blood. In some places the blood had even clotted and flaked off the building. Castle grimaced, making a noise of disgust, worthy of the voice talents that brought Scooby and Shaggy to life.

"Castle! What are you doing?" A voice shouted up at him in annoyance.

"I found blood." Castle shouted back at Kate, who had taken far less time to get down the stairs than he had taken to go up them.

"What?" Kate stepped closer to the building, craning her neck upward.

Castle thrust a jacketed arm down the side of the building and pointed at the smear, inches away from being able to touch it.

"Blood…it's clumpy too!"

Kate looked at Laney with a mix of disgust and disbelief. "Clumpy?"

"If our victim fell there could be brain matter, or even hair mixed with the blood."

"Stay where you are!" Kate called back up then turned and grabbed the first street cop she could find. "We need a ladder, and an officer to close off the roof." She told him, then glanced up at Castle who hadn't moved from his position, pointing like a bird dog at the blood smear.

"Castle?"

There was no response. Kate groaned and shook her head, walking back toward the stairwell she had just exited.

"Castle?" Laney called as well and frowned at the building. "That man needs to get some sleep."

Chapter 2

An hour after Castle's discovery a fire truck had been wedged into the alley at an angle that allowed a ladder to be raised to the blood stain. Lanie gathered a few cotton swabs, a surgical scalpel and a handful of evidence bags and climbed up to do her thing.

"It's definitely blood," She called down after a few minutes of scraping and brushing. She filled one bag with scrapings from the four corners of the stain and tucked it into her coat pocket before she shifted position on the ladder platform carefully, and leaned in till her face was inches from the splatter. She stood that way a few seconds then bent her knees a little and froze again.

Once more on street level Castle blinked up at the coroner, bathed in mid-morning sun like a trapeze artist in a spotlight. Around them the body excavation had ceased when the fire truck arrived. The truck's bulk blocking access to the pile of twisted metal. As a result, every fireman and policeman there had nothing more to do other than stare up at Lanie. Castle had to fight the urge to shout, "Don't jump! There's plenty to live for!"

Someone had graciously offered him yet another cup of coffee and he was nearly to the dregs before Lanie started back down the ladder, concentrating on the grated steps.

"I'll need the lab to draw firm conclusions but the spatter pattern is consistent with a body falling from a great height and brushing against the side of the building." Waiting at the base of the ladder was a fireman, who offered a hand to Lanie before he retracted the ladder. Another fireman started the truck's engine and the workers that had taken a coffee break while the cops took pictures and scrapings started to pull their equipment together again.

"A great height?" Kate asked. "Higher than the building?"

"It would have to be. I can't tell you how the body got up there."

"Base jumping gone wrong?" Castle asked and was, per usual, ignored.

"But our body, whatever it was, didn't fall off this building."

"Maybe they were catapulted at the building." Castle mumbled.

Kate gave her head a baffled shake and glanced toward the ever growing crowd at the end of the alley, in time to watch Detective Kevin Ryan work his way through it, leading the way with his notebook and flashing his badge needlessly at the beat cop standing behind the barricade.

"You get the body out yet?" He asked, glancing between the drowsy author and his colleagues. None of them answered his question, which, in fact, answered his question and he plowed ahead.

"The two witnesses were Bobby and Reena Weatherby. They live on the sixth floor. Mr. Weatherby is the cousin of the guy who owns the building. We got a number but Bobby says his cousin is out of town, visiting Vegas."

"Was it a surprise trip?" Kate asked.

"Nah. Does it twice a year on his lucky days. Canvassed the rest of the residents. Nobody heard anything, saw anything or was anywhere near the roof in the past week."

"Of course they weren't." Kate affirmed, sarcasm lacing the words.

Castle shifted and took a few steps closer to the building with the blood stain on it, staring up at the roof. He spun around and gave the opposite building similar scrutiny then asked, "You canvas that building?"

"It's condemned," Ryan responded. "But Esposito is going through it with a couple of uniforms."

It was likely that both buildings had been built at the same time but the condemned one somehow managed to look shabbier. The windows were coated with dust, where they hadn't been shattered by bullets or rocks or baseballs. The bricks were broken and flaking and the whole building sagged a little at the west corner, barely resisting the incessant pull of gravity. A good sink hole would do the building in without too much trouble.

"Good." Kate said, her eyes focusing absently on the mass of metal that still held their mystery victim.

It had occurred to her, more than once that morning, that the dead body could be a wino, or a large dog, or a lawyer or a prostitute or a diplomat. Solving a homicide depended on the speed of the investigators and their ability to draw intelligent conclusions from the body, the murder weapon or MO, a canvas of the scene, the surroundings, witnesses and evidence. The first 24 hours were crucial to the process, providing a good team of detectives with enough evidence to build a case for the DA, at least in theory. But all of that was on hold until they knew what species the body was, not to mention gender, occupation or name.

The department would call it a waste of man hours if it was discovered that two fire departments and ten cops spent the morning digging someone's poodle out of the metal death trap. But Kate would rather cost the city a few extra pay hours than cost a potential victim the right to have their killer brought to justice. The scene had been properly cordoned off, the evidence contained and witnesses questioned. If they indeed had a human victim, they would have a good start.

"We got something!" Came a cry from deep in the metal cage and Lanie and Kate exchanged glances before hastening closer to the wreckage. Castle was close on Kate's heels, tossing his empty coffee cop at a uniformed EMT, who caught the cup then stared at it, not sure what he was expected to do with it.

One of the firefighters, who had underdressed, wearing only a white, short-sleeve, button down shirt, tie, and trousers, stopped Kate before she could enter the marked off 'danger zone'.

"It's a real mess in there. Best to have the coroner and your photographer go in. One at a time. Extracting the body will take a lot longer than we thought."

"Have you seen it?" Castle asked, looking between the severe face of the official and the twisted metal into which Lanie quickly disappeared.

"Her…I think. She looks more like a pin cushion than a girl."

"I'm Rick Castle. I'm – "

"I know. You're the author that's got a get-into-jail-free pass. I'm not much of a reader unless it's somewhere in the sports section of the Times. Chief Hardy Thoma." Castle and the firefighter shook hands and fell silent, along with the other men and the machines. The place was haunting now that they had confirmed there was a victim. The news of the body and the fact that it was a woman had spread quickly through the small crowd of civil servants. The EMTs had pulled their gurney just a little closer to the wreckage and were standing quietly, trying to look at ease.

Castle knew they were psyching themselves up for a gory mess. He'd seen Kate and the other detectives do it before, and had begun to learn to do it for himself as well.

"Chief Thoma, has anyone touched the body?" Beckett's voice was even, and just loud enough to be professional and firm, without making her question an announcement. Like reporters, Castle thought. Reporters liked to ask their questions loudly, both to be heard and to be appreciated for having had the foresight to ask whatever brilliant query they had thought up. All part of the desperate race to be the face on the evening news behind the anchor desk. Castle didn't have room to grouse. If he hadn't been a novelist, he would have been a reporter. And a weasel-ly one at that.

"One of my guys was working the Jaws of Life on a metal shard and ripped it from her body before he realized what he had." Thoma said quietly after some thought. Castle realized that Thomas's pause had been to think of the most expedient way possible to answer the question, more than an unwillingness to answer. "We set the piece back in place for the sake of the pictures. We didn't think about having a camera in there as we worked."

Thoma's face was still as he spoke, looking eerily like Steve McQueen did in The Towering Inferno. The man's past was mapped out in the taught folds of the wrinkles, age lines and the beginning of liver spots on his cheeks. He wasn't a lazy man. Probably ran every day, as he had for most of his life, probably had a dog that went running with him. He probably had a wife and kids and grand-kids and had lived all of his life in New York City. He was tough, and mean and impenetrable. Until Chief Thoma spoke again.

"We're used to working as quickly and carefully as possible so that we can save a life, not dig up a body." Ryan and Kate met Thomas' look with somber nods. Castle stood just behind Kate's left shoulder and wasn't able to meet the Fire Chief's eyes but he knew what he would see.

Shadows. Maybe they started with a short stint in the military, or some childhood trauma that led him to the life of a fireman. His first dead body. Then years of cutbacks, lost brethren, struggles with marriage and income and children. But the deepest wound was 9/11. It lay, as a dormant scar, for most Americans, but throbbed like a still open wound for every New Yorker. The pile of twisted metal and shattered humanity before them was a taunting reminder of that September morning, almost a decade ago, not soon to be forgotten.

"Hey!" Esposito called as he crossed the barricade and Kate turned enough to confirm the voice she already recognized.

"Hey." She answered. "Anything?"

"Two homeless guys. One of them was passed out cold. They're headed downtown for a shower and some food in exchange for witness testimony. Figured it couldn't hurt."

Beckett nodded, smirking a little at Esposito's attempt to shrug off his act of charity. Cops were supposed to be hardened against free loaders like the homeless. But there hadn't been a homeless person yet that Beckett hadn't tried to buy food for, or dropped a few coins for, or wished desperately that she could save.

"Anything else?"

"Nah. Building's clean. It's been abandoned for almost a decade. All the buildings on the block were part of a low maintenance renovation back in the seventies. About half of these structures are condemned." Ryan nodded to Esposito's explanation, confirming what he remembered about their short interview. Kate caught the motion in her periphery and turned toward him.

"Ryan, did Mr. Weatherby say that his cousin owned all the buildings?"

Kevin fished in his lapel pocket for the leather incased note pad and searched through several pages of scribbles before he shook his head. "No. He was just super of the building they lived in."

"Track it down. Get me names and numbers, and the dates each of the buildings were condemned. Half-mile radius. And make sure someone is at the station to talk to our vagrants." Beckett said, her voice holding a lot less force than it had before. Their leads had been vague at first, and had dwindled to near hopeless, but a lead was a lead.

"We got a body yet?" Esposito asked.

"A woman…maybe." Castle said, raising a single brow and letting a little hint of mystic slip into his tone.

"Maybe?" Esposito asked, wondering if Castle was jerking his chain or commenting on the questionable gender status of much of New York City's citizens.

Castle gave him a knowing look and winced dramatically. Esposito shook his head, and turned to leave. Whatever Castle knew, or thought he knew, Esposito didn't want to know. End of story.

"We'll catch you at the precinct." Ryan said, following his partner away from the scene.

Chapter 3

In the well-lit and windowed offices of New York City's homicide division, with open spaces designed to encourage free thought and communication, studio lighting to replace the harsh, antiseptic glare of fluorescent bulbs and a two-year-old espresso machine, a familiar sight had once more been erected not ten feet from the desk of Detective Kate Beckett. A white marker board, standing about seven foot by five foot on rolling legs, had a square drawn at its center around eye-level. Inside the square was a question mark and below it had been written, "Female- 24, unmarried? Stewardess, American West."

Below that was the address where the detectives had spent most of the morning along with small photos of the building, the alley, the grooves found on the roof parapet, the wreckage and the blood spatter on the side of the building. Each were held to the board with magnets and labeled with a date and time. The rest of the board was blank, reflecting the track lighting and creating a moderate glare that forced whoever was considering the board to squint a little. Castle thought it made the detectives look ponderous.

Kate Beckett was perched on the edge of her desk, staring at the board, an erasable marker poised in her hand, uncapped. She had a sheaf of papers and photos in her other hand, but wasn't looking at them. She was staring at the empty square with the question mark in it.

Rick set down the two cups of French roast espresso that he had put together and turned so that he could perch like Beckett was. They were silent for a bit.

For as much as he liked to talk, there was something to being quiet around Beckett. There was an intimacy to it that he liked, though he would never admit it. After a few minutes Beckett turned enough to pick up the cup that Castle had set down on the desk behind her. She took a slow sip, breathing in the aroma as she did, then settled the cup against her leg and let out the breath.

"Our victim is a 24 year old female, brunette. As far as we can tell she was not conventionally married."

"No ring." Castle said.

"That we could find. The uniform she was wearing when she died indicates that she was a stewardess for America West. We didn't have much of a face to work with because of the extent of deterioration nor was she carrying ID. Her name tag, as with much of her uniform had either been burned away or removed." Beckett continued.

Castle was silent for a moment, pondering the board, and the unnamed woman he had, so far, not even seen. "Are we working on the theory that she was 'on the job' when she was killed?"

Kate winced a bit and took another sip of coffee before she set her cup down and stood. "As unusual and disturbing as that is…yes." She replied, pacing a few steps in front of the board then turning to pace the other way. "Esposito and Ryan have gone to the airport to ask about missing employees, and to interview friends or acquaintances. Lanie said the body had been in that alley for a few days. Maybe she missed a flight, or was missed getting off the plane…"

Castle made a face. He was imagining someone stuffing the stewardess into the space above the landing gear, or dumping her out of the plane from some secret compartment, mid-flight. Every time he imagined it he couldn't get past the sickening sound of her body hitting the window-washer scaffolding, metal screeching, tearing from the roof top and plunging down into the lattice of fire escape, tumbling, twisting and groaning until it impacted the street in one horrific ball of death.

He was suddenly grateful that he hadn't seen the body itself.

"When does the wreckage get to the morgue?" Castle asked.

"Because the body was encased in private property we needed a warrant to remove it from the crime scene." Kate's voice was distracted as she started writing on the upper left hand corner of the board. She wrote out "Witnesses/Persons of Interest" then wrote, "Bobby and Reena Weatherby" and drew a line under their names. Under the line she wrote, "Tenants in building," then stood back.

"Private property? You mean the fire escape?" Castle asked, closing aching, dry eyes to enjoy a sip of his own coffee.

Kate nodded. "Soon as the warrant comes through and the wreckage can be picked up without damaging further evidence it will be delivered to the precinct's impound lot." She wrote another name on the board under the Weatherby's. "Ricardo Weatherby," drew a line and wrote, "Owner of building. In Vegas (?) at time of murder."

Castle watched her for a moment more before he un-perched himself and sat in the chair next to Beckett's desk, slouching with his legs stretched out and crossing his hands over his stomach. "You don't suppose this could have been an elaborate suicide? Young stewardess falls in love with a pilot, finds that he is not willing to give up his high end job and wealthy wife for her sake, and ejects herself out of the airplane mid-flight?"

Beckett's mouth quirked up a bit and she turned, expecting to find Castle still on the desk and blinking at his slouched position in the witness chair. Capping the marker she set it in its tray and crossed her arms, watching the writer nearly doze off.

"That would depressurize and crash the plane, Castle."

Castle opened one eye and trained it on Beckett as she continued.

"And make her a hell of a lot easier to identify." Kate moved to her own chair and sat, grabbing her espresso and taking a well deserved sip. Her eyes drifted back to the murder board, with its measly collection of information. Castle opened his other eye and watched the young detective for a few minutes.

"You don't like the waiting." He stated, not making any effort to straighten in his chair beyond what was necessary to reach his own coffee cup, take a sip and put it back.

Kate considered his words, settling into her own chair a little. "I don't like that most of our case hinges on bureaucracy and red tape. That half of our potential witnesses are three days gone, probably even out of the country. This case is unique, it will draw a lot of attention. More attention than I'd like, especially given how little we have to work with."

The sound of light snoring reached Kate's ears and she shook her head at the unshaven, unkempt writer, who had taken no more than seconds to fall asleep. Three cups of coffee could not undo the damage that several days without sleep had done. She wondered again, briefly, what it was that had been keeping Castle awake. Earlier that morning, after being called to the scene at five in the morning she had called the writer, as she always did, only to have his daughter, Alexis, answer the phone.

He hadn't been sleeping, according to the teenage redhead, and had been haunting coffee houses looking for inspiration. Alexis was even able to give Beckett a list of regular spots she knew her father to escape to. When Beckett, Ryan and Esposito arrived at the crime scene, and realized that the body extraction would take a good deal of time they left in search of the novelist, turned nuisance. Serendipitously he had been at the coffee shop closest to the crime scene, staring blearily into a cup of cut rate coffee.

Kate would have happily let him sleep for the rest of the day, right there in the precinct, but the phone on her desk rang a moment later, waking the author and once more propelling the two crime fighters back into the world of murder, mayhem and mystery.

"Detective Beckett, Homicide. Yes. Yes. Thank you, sir."

Castle was pushing himself groggily back up in the chair, reaching once more for his coffee cup. "Warrant?" he asked.

"We've got it. Let's go." Kate said, and stood, grabbing her car keys from the desk and leading the way out of the precinct. Castle had to rush to catch up, but he felt the adrenaline pumping through his system once more giving him a second or third, or fourth, wind. He also felt something else that boded future unpleasantness.

"Where are going?" He asked when he caught up with Kate outside the lift, his voice sounding a little strained.

Kate stepped into the elevator that would take them down to the parking garage and spared a glance at him.

"The impound lot."

"Is there a bathroom there?" Castle asked, his eyes watering a little as his voice pitched a little higher.

Kate's look of unsurprised disgust was familiar and she looked back to the glossy doors of the elevator shaking her head. When she didn't answer him right away, Rick waited, staring at her. The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and she stepped out into the parking garage, still silent.

Pausing inside the elevator car Castle asked, meekly, "Well is there?"

The city impound wasn't much more than a gravel parking lot with a few air plane hangers at the back and razor wire topped, chain link fences all around it. There was a small guard house and a gate, and beyond it rows upon rows of vehicles, in various states of disrepair baking in the sun. It looked like a bone yard, collecting the carcasses of evidence that accumulated with every case, crash or drug bust. Every month the department had auctions that cleared some of the refuse away, but never all of it.

By the time they pulled in Lanie had already parked her car and was waiting just outside one of the hangers, standing in the shade of the corrugated metal building with a clip board full of papers in her hands. The coroner eyed Castle as he got out of the car and walked stiffly into the building, not waiting for the detective, then opened her eyes a little wider at the look of sadistic humor on Kate's face.

"I don't want to know do I?" She said, her voice dry.

Inside the building was blessedly air conditioned, and mostly empty. There were some offices in the back of the building off to the left as well a single restroom, marked off with a small picture of a toilet. The cops that worked in the building apparently didn't have much in the way of imagination. There were some techs buzzing around the wreckage like flies, taking pictures, measuring and taking more pictures. Much of the metal, including the shards that had been previously removed, had been spread out in a circle, like they did with plane wreckage after it had been retrieved, placing the broken-off bits approximately where it would have been if the plane weren't torn to shreds.

Kate thought it moderately ironic that their deceased stewardess should be laid out that way, even though she crashed sans the plane.

"Did you run into any problems?" Beckett asked as they approached the 'crime scene'.

"Your kidding right?" Lanie asked, giving her friend a look. The techs were erecting temporary scaffolding so that they could get pictures of the wreckage from up above. From where they stood Beckett could just barely see glimpses of cloth hanging in shreds at the heart of the metal heap, which had been, she realized a second later, completely separated into two halves. The separation wasn't more than a few feet but it went all the way through.

"Oh wow."

"That is logistically disturbing." Castle said suddenly from behind Beckett's shoulder and she turned to glare at him before the trio stepped up to the crime scene.

"We had to cut the body in half in order to move it all." Lanie started to explain pointing at the foot of separation that not only bisected metal, but flesh as well. "Some of the metal had broken through the top layers of concrete and were buried several feet into the top soil. I did what I could to check for wounds, hemorrhaging or broken bones before they started cutting. It wasn't pretty."

"It still isn't pretty.." Kate said, quietly settling the palm of her hand over her mouth.

"Like popping a pimple…"

The coroner and the police detective froze and slowly turned to look at the macabre novelist, horror on their faces.

"What?" Castle asked. And got no answer.

After taking a moment to erase the image from her memory Kate asked, "Any preliminary conclusions?"

"No contusions but for those caused post mortem. She was killed, or died, and then was folded and forced into a small space." Lanie explained, using her hands to demonstrate the folding process.

"Like a suitcase maybe?" Castle asked then took in a sharp breath, "How tall is she?"

"I'd say about 4'11", or 5'."

The answer brought an unusually peaceful smile to Castle's face that reached his bloodshot eyes and immediately told Kate that he had either stumbled upon an answer to their case, or had just had an aneurysm. Kate waited to make sure it wasn't the aneurysm before she asked, "What is it, Castle?"

"The killer, killed her at or near the airport, shoved her into a suitcase then took her on the plane and dumped her."

Lanie and Kate crossed their arms simultaneously and turned to study the author in quiet concentration.

"How would he get her through security?" Lanie asked.

"He got rid of the bag at the baggage claim." Castle answered quickly. Kate could almost hear the gears groaning.

"Okay…how did he explain a ninety to 120 pound bag?" Kate asked, next.

"I…" Castle started, then was cut off by Lanie.

"And how did he get the bag from the baggage compartment and off the plane while it was still in the air?"

"Well…"

"Where's the bag? How did she get out of the bag mid-fall?"

Castle shut his mouth and slowly narrowed his eyes before spinning on his heel and pacing away from the two women. He paced back seconds later, raised a finger and firmly pronounced. "I don't know."

"Keep working on those theories, Castle." Kate said, and shook her head turning back to the wreckage and the body with in.

"I think that the impact was powerful enough to reverse the rigor long enough for her straighten out before she was encapsulated in the falling metal. But the action of metal scraping against metal created enough kinetic energy to melt some of her clothing to the steel. I would need some time but based on the amount of heat generated I could probably tell you how high up she was when she began her descent." Lanie said, looking more hopeful than she had all day.

"That could tell us if the plane was taking off or landing." Kate said as her phone rang. Hoping to hear from Esposito or Ryan she flipped it open without looking at the caller ID.

"Or if the plane was at cruising elevation." Lanie affirmed then fell silent as Kate took her call.

"Beckett." She said, then fell silent, a look of disbelief coming over her features. Her eyes slowly slid toward where Castle stood at one end of the wreckage. "W-where was that again sir!" She asked, before she nodded and hung up the phone. She gave Lanie her baffled look.

"Unbelievable." Kate narrowed her eyes and glared at the childish novelist. Then she turned and started to storm out of the hanger. Over her shoulder she shouted, "Castle!"

Rick jumped at the tone of her voice, then started to follow after, cringing and looking askance at Lanie as he passed. All he got was a shrug and he shouted, "What did I do?"

Kate paused at the door, her hand on the handle, took in a deep breath and reluctantly grunted. "They found your suitcase."

Castle's face lit up like a kid at Christmas. He turned his smile toward Lanie as he walked backwards, saluting her with two thumbs up, before he turned and jogged out the open door, letting it slam behind him.

Chapter 4

Downtown New York City, at or around noon, was a mess. The streets were at a near standstill if even so much as a piece of gum stuck to the shoe of a delivery boy on his rounds.

The best bet was almost always the subway, then a short walk west to the taxi company garage that had made a call about a suitcase. Unfortunately, Kate decided to drive.

The city was in full swing. Street grills were searing anything that could be eaten without knife and fork and sold for two bucks. The scaffolding that braced half the buildings in the city provided shade form the glare of the sun, but did nothing to for the heat of the day.

The garage they walked into was sandwiched between two twenty-story office buildings, gleaming arrogantly at the former brick firehouse.

Which had been well kept considering that it now housed a cab company. The small waiting room was gray steel and clean. Connected plastic seats lined one wall. A smattering of magazines and newspapers were scattered across two coffee tables pushed together in the middle of the room. Out of habit Castle glanced to see if there were any copies of his novels lying about. There weren't and he felt a complex flood of emotions as a result.

First regret that he wasn't so far reaching in his fame that even this small taxi company felt it necessary to keep a copy of his work around. Second, relief that he hadn't found an abused copy, with the back cover photo scratched out or blinded. Lastly, the ever present feeling of anonymity that pervaded daily life in the city.

A red headed, stout Irishman opened the door on the far wall of the room and instead of introducing himself asked, "You the detective?" Then he stood waiting for an answer, his hands busy with a grease stained towel.

Rick realized that the mechanic was talking to him and stuttered. "Ah..no. I'm…I'm Rick Castle." He put his hand out, fixed a dashing smile and the Irishman shook, leaving a gritty, grease-like substance on Castle's hand. "The…novelist." Rick finished, staring in disgust at what had just been deposited on his palm.

"I'm Detective Beckett." Kate said, quietly amused at the lack of effect Castle's charm had had on the blue collar Mick.

"Yeah, nice to meet you. Through here." The Irishman said, then turned and led the way through the open door. The distant sounds of power tools and engines grew louder as they were led down a narrow concrete hall and into the open repair area.

What had once been two stories, parking for fire trucks on the first floor, and sleeping arrangements for the firefighters on the second, was now one large room. The place was cluttered with the stench of exhaust, sweat and motor oil and piles, carts, and shelves of tools and parts. There were four lifts spaced evenly around the garage. Two were in use, blue and green taxis lofted to about six feet with mechanics underneath. A third was occupied, but had obviously been lowered for their convenience.

"Hey Lou, the Detective is here!"

In the far corner of the garage there was a small office with a single picture window, glowing amber yellow, and a door. There was an antiquated Apple computer visible on the desk and a small television beside it. A large mustachioed man took his feet down from the desktop and stood, stepping through the open doorway and trundling toward the group now gathering around the taxi. Its most prominent feature was the pale yellow suitcase embedded in the roof of the cab where the availability light should have been.

"Wow." Castle commented, ducking his head and peering through one of the open passenger windows at the damage inside.

"That was one of the things I said." Lou blurted with sarcasm then looked to the man that had called him over. "He's a real genius for a detective, eh Jude?"

"He ain't the detective." Jude responded, then pointed at the police woman. "Detective Peckett this is Lou Harvey. He drives dis cab. I got work to do." And Jude left, without another word.

Castle straightened and met eyes with Kate, who had gone around to the opposite side of the vehicle. He mouthed 'Peckett' and bounced his eyebrows, causing Kate to glare sternly then focus her steely gaze on the cab driver.

"Mr. Harvey. Can you tell me about the incident?"

"Yeah…" Lou said, and straightened his company vest a bit in preparation. "I was driving along lookin' for a fare a coupl'a days ago. I got a call, come down to the projects district. It's not my area but it was slow day, so I took it." Lou turned to fix Castle with look of brotherly comradery. "I ain't never gonna do that again."

Castle nodded, emphasizing with his face what Lou had emphasized with his tone. Didn't hurt to be encouraging.

"I mean," Lou continued. "Suitcases fallin' from the skies. Landin' right on my cab. Its gotta be a sign right?"

It appeared that Lou really wanted to know because the story halted completely as he locked eyes with both the novelist and the cop. Kate stared open mouthed before she agreed with a simple, "Sure." After a second of quiet nodding Lou re-gathered the momentum he had lost and continued.

"So I'm drivin' along. I stop at a red light. I'm leanin' forward to check the address again and boom! This thing crashes into the roof there, badaBING! Just like that."

Castle's eyebrow shot up and he mouthed to himself, mostly because Kate wasn't looking, 'BadaBing?' Who was this guy? Typical New Yorkers said "BadaBing?" He shrugged to himself, finishing the silent conversation with his alter-ego.

"About what time, would you say this happened?" Kate asked and Lou jumped forward a step, pointing through the front passenger side window at the dash. There was a digital panel in the middle with several readouts.

"It should say right there. The computer records the time whenever we stop." Lou said, his eyes darting with great concern between Castle and Beckett.

"This is not a modern suitcase." Castle said, leaning against the body of the cab, carefully not touching the suitcase itself, but touching everything else.

"So…" Kate replied, opening the driver's side door and punching a button to turn on the digital display.

Kate's voice had been muffled so Castle spoke a little louder when he answered. "So it explains how she got out of the suitcase when she fell."

The case was made of hard plastic and aluminum, the outside molded with a fifty's yellow pallor. It had landed with the handle down and the top edges embedded in the steel roof of the cab. The latch was probably steel. The interior usually had a few plastic dividers that bisected the space inside and a satin lining, sometimes with an extra pouch sewn in. When the case had come to its final resting spot it had been open, the lining and the dividers obviously removed. Castle couldn't swear to it, but there was a good possibility that there was DNA evidence on the interior.

The cabby's eyes widened as he turned his face toward the novelist. "Whoa…she? Are you saying there was a person in there?"

Inside the cab, Kate pursed her lips and shook her head, continuing to punch buttons.

"Unfortunately…yes." Castle said, frankly, before he stepped back from the cab a few feet, casting his eyes around his immediate area then fixing them on Lou. "Flashlight?"

The stunned man took a moment to respond, but eventually nodded and produced a 78-LED mechanic's light. It was cordless and Castle watched as Lou popped a small lever out of the handle and cranked it for a few seconds before flipping on the switch.

Rick took it, then leaned against the cab again, shining the light up into the dark apex of the suitcase.

"Say you know, I never knew there was a lady in there. I mean…I ain't a murderer or nothin'. I didn't even touch the thing…" Lou declared, pausing when Castle glanced at him with a look that the cabby mistook as disapproval. "Well…once I figured out I couldn't get the thing out on my own, I didn't touch it." He squirmed a bit as he answered, shoving his hands in his back pockets and leaning down to look in at Kate.

"Believe me, Mr. Harvey. You aren't likely to be our number one suspect." Beckett told him.

"Yes. It's not likely that you killed a woman, stuffed her in an old suitcase, froze her, then took her on an airplane and dropped her out of it, before bailing yourself, jumping in your cab and driving it to the exact spot where she was going to land…" Castle stopped to take a breath. "Just to provide yourself an alibi."

"Frozen?" Kate asked, stepping out of the cab and casting a doubtful look at the author.

Castle's eyes gleamed and he nodded his head vigorously, pointing the light strategically so that Kate could see.

Kate walked around the front of the cab and put her notepad and pen on the hood. "Mr. Harvey if I could have your personal information. We will need you to come down to the station within 48 hours to give an official statement."

The cabby, after craning his neck pointlessly at the suitcase, shuffled down to the note pad and laboriously began scribing with his left hand.

"Cracks, in the corners." Castle told her after he had handed her the light, taking the time to crank the nifty lever again.

Kate leaned in, eyeing those corners that she could reasonably see from that angle. There were cracks, cracks that she could see the ceiling through. Cracks that could have been caused by anything, including age, the speed of the fall, cramming a human body into the case, etc.

She pursed her lips at Castle. "Next you'll tell me she was shrink wrapped."

"Oh my god!" Lou proclaimed, stepping away from the notepad and throwing his hands in the air again. "That poor girl."

Both Castle and Beckett rolled their eyes, making certain that the reasonably shocked civilian didn't see.

The detective moved to gather her pad and pen before she gave Lou a sincere thank you and asked him to get his boss. The look Lou gave her in return was somewhere between fear and disgust. Behind her Castle made a 'huh!' sound before he went back to inspecting his 'freezing' damage.

By the time Jude, as it turned out, O'Riley arrived Kate had already made the call to the precinct, requesting a uniformed officer come down to baby-sit the car until it could be towed to the impound lot, and had received the discouraging news from Ryan and Esposito. No missing stewardii, no missing friends or relatives.

"You're taking my cab?" O'Riley asked, pointing dumfounded at the vehicle in question.

"Mr. O'Riley-"

"It's Jude."

"Mr. O'Riley…" Kate repeated, putting just enough force behind it to let the man know she wasn't there to be his friend. Castle didn't react, which surprised Kate a little, but she let it go. "Your cab is now evidence in a murder investigation."

The Irishman was quiet for a second or two, Castle assumed he was thinking.

"Will I get it back?" He asked finally, his facial expression indicating that he was doubtful about it.

"You may have to renew the tags first." Castle told him before he punctuated his point by snapping off the LED mechanic's light. He liked the light, and was determined to get one for himself when he next went shopping. He didn't need one, but wanting with his salary was as good as needing.

"Thank you, very much for your time." Kate said, eyeing the pair of street cops as they were led into the garage. She walked away quickly to speak to them, leaving Rick to try and soften the blow. Castle stepped forward, putting his hand out automatically, and opened his mouth to speak. Movement out of the corner of his eye stopped him and he glanced toward the motion, and watched the bathroom door open wide, revealing the corner of a solitary toilet and a small table, on which rested several rolls of toilet paper…and Heat Wave.

The novelist was silent and stoic, despite the immediate plummet of his spirits, his hand was taken and shook, once again greased, and he followed Kate silently out the door and down the street where she bought two hot dogs from a vendor, pushing one into Castle's hand. The author remained silent, cradling the dog like a newborn babe all the way back to the precinct. Kate attributed it to his running tally of sleepless nights and shortly before they reached the offices of the NYPD she changed her mind and headed toward the author's part of the city.

It wasn't until they were pulling up to the curb outside the windowed apartment building that Castle began to respond to stimuli.

"Castle?"

"The bathroom." Castle narrowed his eyes, tears forming in the corners but not falling. "The bathroom…" He repeated, bafflement in his voice.

Kate opened her mouth to respond, not certain what it was about the bathroom that had caused Castle to pale, and fall completely silent. Perhaps there had been a clue in the bathroom. Or he thought it had something to do with the bathroom on the plane from whence came their dead and possibly frozen maid of the sky.

"Um…" She finally uttered then pointed vaguely at his building. "I think you should get some rest, Castle."

Castle stared for a moment at the hot dog in his hand, obviously seeing it for the first time. He didn't appear to want it either, his hand searching for a place to put it. Kate finally took it from him, deciding to cut him a break. She turned to dump it out her window and when she turned back toward him, Castle was pouting.

"What? The bathroom what?" She asked, insistent.

"They put Nikki Heat…in the bathroom."

Kate's eyes widened, her brows disappeared behind her bangs and then the perturbed, pursed-lip look snapped into place. "Go to bed, Castle."

Rick opened the door and looked up to his apartment, slowly moved his feet to the sidewalk and pulled himself out like a man who had fallen down a mountain. He was stiff, and the sleeplessness was making his thoughts move like molasses, which was neither conducive to crime solving, nor novel writing.

Kate's voice was echoing in his head, telling him to sleep, telling him that his ideas were crap, telling him that he wasn't allowed to make Nikki Heat slutty, and the echo was originating from the dank recesses of an unwashed, dimly lit, stink sodden, mechanic's bathroom.

He was done for, novelistically speaking, this was the end. The writer who found his or her work tucked away in the dusty, foul depths of a restroom that could not even afford toilet paper dispensers could kiss his or her career a sweet good-bye. He was kaput, finis, gone the way of the dodo and every other extinct animal that he and Alexis had once had the privilege of viewing corpses of.

Kate didn't know if Castle realized that he was ranting out loud as he walked toward his building, nor did she think that yelling at him would stop him from ranting. She stayed in the car and watched, making sure that he made it inside alright, and admittedly taking mental notes so that she could recount Castle's breakdown to the guys.

A part of her, the part that had secretly loved Castle from the moment she read his first book, the part that had screamed for joy and fainted inside when she realized who it was that had requested to follow her around, the part that had been alternately frightened to death and deeply honored when Castle's first Nikki Heat novel did so well that there was talk of a movie, that part was worried about Rick. But that part never showed unless she was very much alone.

Once Castle had passed the befuddled doorman Kate turned over the engine and pulled into traffic. She would call him around closing time, she decided. Make sure, at least, that he had stayed in the apartment and slept. Maybe she'd have something to tell him by then. Maybe she would have solved the case by then.

Fat chance, she thought, as she turned the car back toward the precinct.