I Heard the Bells
The bells on the church played Ave Maria slowly, almost mournfully, as if they were so old that it hurt them to move and each note of the song was a protest, or a cry for salvation. Javier Esposito knew the song by heart, and as he jogged up the church steps he tried to hum the tune. But each time the bells paused at an awkward moment he was jarred out of the rhythm of the hymn and it annoyed him.
As he reached the door of the church he yanked it open and waited for his partner, Kevin Ryan, to go through. Then he entered the church himself and mumbled, "This is gonna suck."
"No doubt about it," Ryan said.
The two detectives marched down the center aisle of the church and as they approached the sanctuary Esposito genuflected and crossed himself out of habit. Ryan, a little slower on the uptake, awkwardly tried to mimic his partner, flailing his hand around his chest in a vain attempt to make the Sign of the Cross. He finally gave up and offered an embarrassed whisper. "Ten years of religious ed. and you'd think I could get that right."
Esposito grinned. "Looked more like special ed. to me."
"My grandmother's probably rolling around in her grave."
"Mine's probably lecturing yours on how she should have raised her Irish Catholic grandson a little better."
An elderly woman motioned to them from a door at the far side of the church and as they approached she asked, "Are you the detectives?"
"Yes, ma'am," Esposito answered.
"They're through there." She pointed down a dimly lit corridor. "Through the door on the left."
They nodded their thanks and walked down the corridor and out of the door. It took them into a small courtyard. The area was enclosed on all sides by granite walls and archways, but had no roof and was open to the elements. A grayish, overcast day loomed overhead and small piles of snow from a brief storm two days past crowded close to the granite walls.
A manger scene stood vigil in a corner of the courtyard. Nearer the center was a decrepit water fountain, long gone dry, but harboring a crusting of dried autumn leaves from the solitary maple that stood by its side. Underneath the tree was a body covered by a clean, white sheet.
"What's the word?" Esposito fired off the question for the medical examiner who was kneeling by the body.
Lannie Parish glanced up and said, "The word is murder." She peeled the sheet back to reveal the body of an aged priest dressed in his blacks. A dark patch of dried blood stiffened the front of his jacket.
Esposito knelt down and examined the body. He used his pen to push the black jacket aside and saw a tear in the shirt. "He was stabbed?"
"Looks that way."
"Any idea on the time of death?"
"He's been here a while," Parish said. "But it's cold out and I won't be able to give you an accurate estimate until I get him back to the morgue."
"Beckett here yet?" Ryan asked.
Parish nodded. "She's in the rectory interviewing the associate pastor."
Esposito stood up and glanced around the courtyard, surveying the crime scene. "Who kills a priest?" His troubled gaze flicked between Parish and Ryan. "Who kills anyone in a church for that matter?"
Detective Kate Beckett answered from the doorway behind him. "Same people who kill everyone else in this city."
Her constant shadow, Rick Castle, picked up where she left off. "In other words, it could be anyone."
Ryan smiled at Castle. "Helpful as always."
"I try to lend my talents wherever they're needed," Castle said with a slight bow.
He followed Beckett across the courtyard to where the ME and the body waited. When they got there Beckett knelt by the medical examiner and asked, "Got anything for me?"
Parish held up a plastic bag containing a large kitchen knife smeared with blood. "The Uniforms found this and bagged it." As if in answer to the unasked question on the lips of the detectives she added, "They were afraid it would start raining and the evidence would wash away."
"Can't blame them there." Beckett stood and slid her hands into her pockets, shrugging her coat closer around herself to ward off the cold. "Three days 'til Christmas and it's barely even snowed. How are you supposed to get into the spirit, or even have a decent snowball fight, when all we get is rain and wind?"
Ryan glanced up at the sky. "Looks like it's going to be a gray Christmas."
"It's always a gray Christmas in New York," Esposito told him.
"Except at Macy's," Parish said. She stood up and handed Esposito the evidence bag with the knife. "They do a nice display there."
"True that," Esposito said as he nodded and pocketed the knife.
A loud splat and a cry of, 'hey!' caused them to all turn in Beckett's direction. A bit of slush was dripping from her hair and she was glaring across the courtyard. "Castle!"
He gave her an innocent look. "So I guess the snowball fight comment was rhetorical?" With a sly grin he said, "My bad."
The others suddenly found renewed interest in the crime scene, shifting their eyes away from Beckett who was furious. She stalked across the courtyard and the look on her face melted the smile from Castle's lips. "This is a crime scene, not a playground!"
"I know," he said. He backed up a step, angling for an exit in case it was necessary. "I was just trying to lighten the mood."
Her eyes widened and she pointed at the corpse. "Are you serious? A priest has been murdered. In a church courtyard!"
"I can see that."
She lowered her voice and growled, "Then pretend that you know how to behave yourself and stand here like a good boy. Keep your hands in your pockets, don't touch a thing and don't speak unless you are spoken to."
"I…"
She raised an eyebrow and he gave her a sheepish nod.
She turned back to the others. "Our vic is Father Alan Ferrer, age 74. He's the pastor and he was getting ready to retire soon."
Ryan took out his notebook and pen. "And the obvious question is, did he have any enemies?"
"Not according to his associate. Father Ruiz says he was loved by the community and that everyone was sad that he was going to be leaving soon."
"Sad enough that they'd want to kill him?" Ryan asked doubtfully.
"That's what we have to figure out," Beckett said. "Father Ruiz gave me his date book. There were no appointments in it for last night." She handed it to Ryan. "Bag it and let's take it back to the station to review it."
She turned to Esposito. "This is a predominantly Hispanic parish so I'm going to let you handle the interviews with the parishioners."
He offered her a lopsided grin. "You profiling me, Beckett?"
"No, but you speak Spanish and none of the rest of us do."
"See, that's what I mean." Esposito exchanged meaningful looks with Ryan and Castle who nodded in mock sympathy. Then he glanced back at Beckett. "Just because a brother looks Hispanic doesn't mean he speaks the language."
She rolled her eyes. "It's in your personnel file."
"Really?"
She nodded and he said, "No, really. You actually read those?"
"I actually do," she said. "So, you're conducting the interviews."
"Fair enough."
From the corner of the courtyard Castle said, "I speak Spanish, too."
Beckett turned slowly on one heel to look at him and he said, "I just… you know… thought it might… help."
He let the comment trail off but suddenly she smiled and said, "No, that's good."
"It is?" he asked, suspicion weighing heavily in his voice.
"Yeah. That means that I can leave you here with Esposito while Ryan and I go back to the station where it's warm and dry, and where we can have a nice, hot cup of coffee." She walked past him and patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks for volunteering."
As she and Ryan left the courtyard she suddenly turned and said, "Hey, Esposito."
"Yeah?"
"Speaking of personnel files, in 2001 did you really…?"
"Whoa!" He held up a hand to cut her off. At the look on his face she smiled and followed Ryan back into the church.
Esposito turned to Castle. "Looks like it's just you and me, Bro. And about a hundred elderly ladies who'll all think they know who did it and who, at least half of, have probably already read your books. They're going to love you speaking a little Spanish to them."
He started into the church and threw over his shoulder, "You know it's one of the romance languages, right?"
"Yeah." Castle slid his hands in his jacket pockets and fell into step beside Esposito. "So. What was all that about 2001?"
"It's nothing."
"Really? Because it seemed like something."
Esposito shook his head no and Castle grabbed his arm to bring him to a stop. After glancing around to make sure he wouldn't be heard Castle said, "We're about to face a whole bunch of people who are pissed because their priest's been murdered and who, according to you, are going to go crazy over the language of love. You gotta give me something here."
"Sorry." Esposito shook his head resolutely. "I'm invoking the Bro Code."
"The Bro Code?" Castle asked. "What's that?"
"That, my friend, is a code of honor among men."
"Really."
"Yup."
"And what exactly does it mean?"
"It means that if you stop asking me questions I don't want to answer, I won't pull my gun out and shoot you right here in this hall." Esposito smiled. "Think of it as a manly way for us to show each other a little love."
Castle's eyes grew wide and he said, "Oooookay…."
Esposito nodded. "Mmmm-hmmmm."
Kevin Ryan walked through the Bullpen reading through Fr. Ferrer's day planner and humming Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful under his breath. He slid into the chair behind his desk without looking, set the calendar down and reached for his coffee mug all in one smooth, well-practiced motion, then he spun around to face Beckett's desk. "I've got nothing. Bupkis. De nada."
She glanced up and offered him a smile. "See? If I'd known you spoke Spanish I'd've left you back at the church with Castle and Esposito."
"Yeah, well, I've just about exhausted my list of useful Spanish phrases with that one."
"You used it wrong, by the way," Beckett teased. "But points for effort."
"Story of my life," Ryan said with an impish grin. He sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. "What have you got?"
"About the same as you." Beckett sighed and stared across the room at the white-board where they mapped out their cases. There was a photo of the victim, a handful of notes and a Post-it used as a place marker for the notes that Esposito would gather during his interviews. "We have no witnesses, very little physical evidence and nothing that would point toward a motive. Like Esposito said, who kills a priest?"
Ryan shrugged. "Maybe we'll get lucky and there'll be some prints on the knife the Uni's found at the scene."
"Maybe," Beckett said.
Esposito and Castle came through the door and Esposito said, "At least we know where the knife came from." At their looks of expectation he added, "The kitchen in the church hall."
"How'd you figure that out?" Beckett asked.
"I asked Fr. Ruiz if I could take a look around and he said no problem. He gave me a full access pass, and, I've got to tell you, having been raised Catholic there were some places in that church that I never needed to know existed."
"Like what?" Ryan asked.
"Like the crypt built into the basement of the church." Esposito shivered. "That was one creepy place. I'm thinking cremation's not a bad option."
Beckett glanced at Castle. "What'd you think of it? Good place to set one of your novels?"
"I wouldn't know." Castle gave her a sour look and then glared at Esposito. "I was busy entertaining all of the church ladies upstairs."
"But he took it like a good little rookie," Esposito told them. "And it gave me the time to escape all the ladies and get a look around. The knife the Uni's found at the scene matches the ones in the church hall kitchen exactly."
"Do they inventory stuff like that?" Beckett asked. "It would be nice if we could positively identify it as coming from the kitchen."
"They don't" Esposito said. "But the lady who runs the kitchen is a little protective about church property." He held up another evidence bag with a clean knife from the kitchen. "She had the initials of the parish name engraved on all the cutlery."
Beckett smiled. "That's handy. Let's get the two knives over to the lab so they can check for prints and match the engraving."
"You got it."
"And good work. Even you, Castle. Sometimes you have to take one for the team
for the good of the case."
"Oh, he took one," Esposito told her. "More than one, actually. Phone numbers, that is." He glanced at Castle. "Half the parish wants him to come to their houses for dinner."
Ryan laughed. "Maybe you could do some book readings."
"Maybe you should kiss my…"
"Uh, uh, uh!" Beckett warned Castle off. "Don't make me take that 'good job' compliment back."
Castle slid into a chair at Ryan's desk. "You know, now that I think of it, maybe some book readings would be good." He glanced across the desk and said, "Maybe I should bring Beckett so they could all meet my muse in person."
Before Beckett could respond the phone on her desk rang and she grabbed the receiver. "Beckett."
She listened for a moment and said, "Okay. We'll be right there."
She hung up the phone and said, "That was Lannie. She says she needs to see us."
"So, I finished the autopsy and determined the cause of death." Parish peeled herself out of a pair of rubber gloves and a paper scrubs jacket that was partially covered in blood. She tossed them into a hazardous waste bin and said, "You're not going to like this."
"What do you mean?" Beckett asked cautiously. "He was stabbed, right?"
Parish nodded. "He was stabbed, but that wasn't the cause of death."
Esposito picked up a file folder and started to read through it. "So, if the stabbing didn't kill him, what did?" He suddenly glanced up and said, "Seriously?"
"Uh-huh."
"What?" Beckett demanded.
Esposito handed her the folder and Parish said, "Father Ferrer died of a heart attack."
Beckett glanced through the file and asked, "Then what about the stab wound? Did he somehow fall on the knife?"
"No. The trajectory of the wound shows that someone else was holding the knife." She crossed the room and turned on an X-Ray machine then pointed to a dark blotch on the chest X-Ray. "The angle of entry rules out him falling on the knife. The blade entered too deep and too straight. But, it didn't hit any major organs or arteries." She turned to face them and added, "In other words, the stab wound, in and of itself, wouldn't have been fatal in a healthy person."
"So, do we have a homicide or don't we?" Beckett asked.
"That's a good question," Parish said. "If you can prove that the heart attack was caused by the stress of a fight, or by the trauma of the injury itself then you have a homicide. But if the heart attack occurred prior to a struggle or the stabbing, then homicide isn't going to fly in court."
Ryan glanced at Parish. "That sort of complicates things."
She nodded. "You'd better put your dancing shoes on, guys. You've got a lot of work to do."
"But isn't this your department?" Castle asked. He glanced around at the rest of the team as if inviting them to answer. "I mean, in all my novels the medical examiner actually does, you know, the medical stuff. Can't you determine the timeline of the murder?"
"The real world isn't as cut and dried as your novels," Parish said. "We don't make up the facts, we have to uncover them."
"I don't understand." She started to open her mouth but he waved her comment off. "I mean that I understand about the writing and real crime, but why can't you determine which came first, the stabbing or the heart attack?"
"I can offer an educated guess," Parish told him. "But without evidence to back it up it isn't going to do us much good. Not unless you can magic us up one of your fictional judges. I'll keep looking, but short of a miracle I'm not sure what more I can do."
As they left the lab Esposito said, "We'd better hope that we catch a break with fingerprints on that knife."
"What if you don't?" Castle asked.
Beckett pushed through a door and held it for the others to go through. "We look for witnesses, we interview people who were close to the victim, we go back to the crime scene to look for more evidence or clues, and we pray that someone out there feels guilty enough to tell someone what they did."
"Maybe Parish had it right. Maybe you should try praying for a miracle," Castle suggested. "I mean, it seems sort of appropriate in this case."
"You know how many times I've done that when a homicide has gone cold?" Beckett asked. "How many times I've hoped for a miracle?"
Castle shook his head no and she said, "A lot."
"Has it ever worked?" he asked.
She thought about it a minute and then smiled. "A few times, yeah." She glanced at Esposito. "You and Ryan head over to the lab and see if you can pressure them into stepping up the pace. Castle and I'll go back to the church and take another look around. If the knife came from the kitchen whoever got it had to have access."
Castle asked, "Think they'll still be hanging around?"
Esposito shrugged. "If the guilty party hangs around the church on a regular basis and they want to know what we know, chances are they'll be there."
Becket turned back to Esposito. "Did you ask Fr. Ruiz to put together a list of the parish staff?"
"His secretary was going to put it together and call us when it was done," he told her. "I asked them to include anyone who works there on a regular basis, anyone who has keys or anyone who would have easy access and would look like they belonged there."
"Good. Maybe we can pick it up while we're there." She glanced at her watch and said. "Let's meet back at the office this afternoon and see what we can put together. Grab a copy of the autopsy report before you leave, would you?"
As Beckett drove through mid-town traffic Castle pondered the case from the passenger seat, watching the flow of New York City life go by. Finally he said, "You know, I've never thought about killing a priest for any of my novels. It's a bit creepy."
"Wouldn't you say that thinking about killing anyone is creepy?" Beckett asked.
Castle looked at her and said, "Well, yeah. If it's not fiction."
"So, what you do is normal?"
He shrugged. "I wouldn't say it's normal. But it's not creepy, either."
"You try riding with yourself and tell me it's not creepy."
She pulled the car to the curb and they got out in front of the church. "Let's see if we can get that employee roster from the secretary first."
They climbed the stairs and headed to the parish office. As they walked through the church they noticed that most of the pews were filled with people who were kneeling and reciting the rosary. Near the front candles in glass containers glowed, casting a brilliant, white light at the entrance to the sanctuary.
None of the people seemed to notice them, so Beckett left the main area of the church and headed down the small hall to the office. When they got there she knocked on the frame of the open door and walked in when the secretary looked up.
The secretary smiled and said, "Detective Beckett, what can I do for you?"
Kate smiled back at the woman and said, "Detective Esposito asked you to put together a roster of parish employees and volunteers this morning. I was wondering if it was ready yet."
The woman handed a file folder across the desk. "I just finished. I had to get permission from Fr. Ruiz before I could release it."
Castle pointed back into the church with his thumb and said, "For a work day it seems like there's an awful lot of people out there."
"They're praying," the secretary said. "For Fr. Ferrer."
"Is it normal for there to be that many people here during the day?" Beckett asked.
The woman shook her head no. "Sadly enough, not these days. It used to be that the church was fairly full most of the time. But over the years people have fallen away."
"It must be nice to see them all out there."
The woman sighed. "It would be, if it wasn't for the circumstances."
"I'm sorry," Beckett said.
"Don't be." The secretary smiled again. "Fr. Ferrer is with our Father in heaven now. And, besides, I think he would find it heartening to see so many people kneeling together in prayer." After a pause she said, "But some of us still have work to do here on the earthly plane. Is there anything else I can do to help with your investigation?"
"Not now. No," Beckett said. "But if it's okay we'd like to go speak with some of the workers in the kitchen."
"It's not a problem," the secretary said. "Do you know the way?"
"We'll find it."
As they wandered down the hall toward the back of the building Beckett glanced through the file. "For a church this size there aren't that many paid members on staff." She glanced at Castle. "Most people on the list are volunteers."
"That's not surprising," Castle told her. "I would imagine it's the same in most churches. Isn't part of the mission being of service to one another?"
"Yeah, but it might make it harder to locate them all."
They walked into the church kitchen and Castle pointed to a crucifix hanging on the wall opposite to where they stood. "Try asking him. Maybe he can point us in the right direction."
As if on cue a young man wearing an apron and carrying a large tray of dirty dishes walked in through a door off of the church hall. He had sheets of disheveled, blonde hair hanging down in front of his eyes and he didn't seem to see the other occupants of the room.
Kate took out her badge and held it up to identify herself. "Excuse me."
The young man set the dish tray down by the sink and then left the room without acknowledging her. Beckett glanced at Castle, clearly irritated, and they followed him out into the hall.
The room was filled with people sitting at tables, finishing a meal. Beckett and Castle followed the young man to a table where he started putting dirty dishes on another tray and Beckett tried to get his attention again. "Excuse me, I'm Detective Kate Beckett. I'm investigating Fr. Ferrer's death."
The young man continued his work, but didn't acknowledge the detective. Beckett reached out, grabbed his arm, and he turned to face her, a large smile on his face.
"Excuse me," Beckett tried again. Her tone held a note of anger, but the young man continued to smile and stare at her. After a moment he pointed to a vacant table. When Beckett shrugged he took her by the arm and started to lead her to the table, the smile still glued to his face.
Beckett pulled her arm away and was about to grab the boy and spin him around when Castle stopped her and said, "Whoa! Hang on."
"What?" Beckett targeted her anger at Castle, glaring at him and daring him to interfere again.
"I think he's deaf," Castle said. "I don't think he has a clue you were trying to get his attention." Castle looked at the young man and offered him a gentle smile. "And I think he thinks we're here to eat."
The young man nodded and Castle waved his hands, shaking his head slowly to indicate that wasn't what they wanted.
The anger drained slowly from Beckett and she turned to show her badge to the young man again. A look of horror crossed his face when he saw it. He started to back away, gesturing wildly with his hands.
Beckett and Castle exchanged a glance and then Castle stepped forward holding his hands up and away from his body. He moved forward, slowly, and said, "It's okay. We're not here to arrest you. Do you read lips?"
A woman hurried across the hall and said, "Very little." She stepped between Castle and Beckett and the blonde boy. "What is going on here?"
Beckett showed her badge again and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare him. We're here to investigate Fr. Ferrer's death.
The woman examined Beckett's badge and then turned to the younger man behind her. She exchanged signs with him and then he moved to a different table and went back to work. When she had turned back to the detective the woman said, "As you can see we have a pretty large crowd here at lunch. The boy you met is Danny. He works here in the afternoons and he is deaf." She turned and looked at him proudly. "He's just learning how to read lips. He hasn't had many advantages in his life, I'm afraid"
"I'm sorry, too," Beckett said. "I should have known."
"It's all right," the woman told her. "We never really assume that anyone we meet is deaf. Quite the opposite, actually. We always assume that other people are just like us. If we only realized exactly how alike we all are, no matter the color of our skin or the way we communicate, maybe there would be a little less violence in the world." She held out a hand and said, "I'm Marge, by the way. Marge Adams. I run the kitchen here. Danny works with me."
Beckett and Castle each shook the woman's hand and Beckett said, "Like I said, we're here to look into Fr. Ferrer's death. Do you have time to answer a few questions?"
"Certainly," Marge said. "But maybe we should go into the kitchen where it's a little more private."
As they walked into the kitchen Beckett asked, "Have you worked here long, Mrs. Adams?"
"Ms. Adams," Marge corrected. "And, yes, I've worked here for quite a while. I started the food kitchen here. We offer meals to anyone in need, three times a day, seven days a week. As you can see, there are a lot of people in need."
"How late do you serve?" Beckett asked.
"Our last meal is served at six. We close the doors at seven-thirty."
Castle looked into the hall and asked, "Where do all these people go at seven-thirty?"
"Some of them have homes, but not enough money to buy food or medicine," Adams told him. "The others often go to area churches or shelters that provide bed space at night. A few choose to sleep in the streets."
"So, you don't provide bed space to anyone after the kitchen closes?" Beckett asked.
"No. Well, except for Danny. He's lived here for the past few months."
"Really?"
"Fr. Ferrer took him in."
"Why?" Beckett asked.
Adams hesitated. "I'm not sure I should be telling you this. Perhaps you should speak with Fr. Ruiz."
"Was Danny in trouble?" Beckett asked.
"No! Danny has never been anything but helpful and kind." She glanced around nervously. "As I said, you should probably speak with Fr. Ruiz."
"I don't understand," Beckett said. "If Danny has never been in trouble why can't you tell us about him?"
Adams hesitated and said, "Danny was raised by his grandmother. They didn't have very much, but they were always loyal parishioners. When she died Fr. Ferrer gave Danny a room here instead of sending him to an institution."
"Why an institution?" Castle asked. "He seems pretty capable."
"Yes, but he never learned to read lips and he never had very much of a traditional education. He would find it very hard to find work on his own. That's why Fr. Ferrer took him in here and gave him work."
Beckett glanced at the list of church employees and volunteers. "So, the Danny we're talking about is Danny Lawson. He's actually employed by the church?"
"Yes, as am I."
"I see that," Beckett said.
Danny came through carrying another heavy load of dirty dishes. As he passed by them Castle raised a hand to stop him and then awkwardly signed a short message. Danny smiled tentatively and signed a single motion before he left the room.
"What did you say?" Beckett asked.
Castle shrugged. "I told him he's doing a great job. He said, 'thanks'."
"Danny does do good work," Adams said. "And, thank you, Mr. Castle. Danny doesn't have many people he can, well, talk to." She turned to Beckett and said, "I really should go back to work. There are a lot of people out there hoping that we have desert and we were given an awful lot of pies for Christmas. I should go and serve them before people leave."
Beckett nodded. "Thank you for your time."
She took a last look into the church hall and Castle noted the intense look on her face. He moved beside her and asked, "What are you thinking?"
She nodded into the room. "I'm thinking that all of those people are using the church cutlery. And I'm thinking that any one of them could easily slip one of those knives into their pocket to take home with them."
"Which means we have a whole lot of suspects?"
Beckett nodded and turned to leave the room. As they headed back to the car she glanced at Castle and said, "By the way, you're full of linguistic surprises today."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, this morning you reveal that you speak Spanish and now I find out that you know sign language," Beckett said. "I'd think it would be hard to write that into one of your novels."
Rick laughed. "It wasn't for one of my novels. When Alexis was in the third grade she had a friend who was deaf. She didn't read lips, and a lot of the kids were afraid to try to talk to her, so Alexis asked if we could learn a little sign language. We took a few classes and learned a few phrases. It was fun."
"And did the girl appreciate it?"
A broad smile lit Castle's face. "She loved it. We couldn't get her out of the house until her family moved away a year later. Every once in a while Alexis and I try to remember what we learned." He glanced back toward the kitchen and said, "You never know when you'll need it. And besides, it drives my mother nuts because she has no idea what we're saying."
Beckett shook her head and grinned. "Now, see, that's the Richard Castle we've all come to know and love."
"What do you mean?" he asked, all innocence.
"I mean the guy who can take something purely good and turn it into something… not so good."
"You wouldn't say that if you had to eat my mother's lasagna." Castle grimaced. "It's good manners not to tell the cook how bad her food is."
"But it's okay to talk about it with someone else behind her back?"
"No, she's right there in front of us," Castle said. "She sees the whole thing. She just doesn't understand what we're saying. So we just grin and nod our heads a lot and make it look like we love it."
"Wouldn't it be easier to just tell her you don't like it?" Beckett asked.
"No!" Castle shook his head with determination. "No, no, no, no, no… You've never seen my mother when she looses a part that she really wants, have you?" Beckett shook her head no and Castle said, "It would be sort of the same thing. That woman does not take rejection well."
Back in the Bullpen Beckett and Castle found Ryan and Esposito reviewing their case notes and updating the white-board. Beckett sat on the edge of her desk and waited for them to finish while Castle went to the break room to make cappuccinos for all.
After Ryan had finished scribbling the last bit of information on the board Beckett got up to review it. "I see you got the lab results back on the knife."
Esposito joined her, leaning against her desk and folding his arms across his chest. "Yeah. The fingerprints have been submitted to AFIS but nothing's come back yet. It may take a couple of days."
"And the blood?"
"Fr. Ferrer's," Ryan said. He capped the dry erase marker he'd been using and set it on the runner along the bottom of the board. Then he grabbed a small note pad from the pocket of his shirt. "No other DNA on the knife found at the scene. Nothing unusual on the knife Esposito got from the kitchen."
Esposito picked up where his partner left off. "The same initials are engraved on both knives and, from what the lab could tell, it looks like the same person did the engraving." He reached over to grab an evidence bag from his desk and showed it to Beckett. "The work's crude. Probably done by someone with one of those home crafts metal engravers. Likely done in the kitchen right there at the church."
Beckett took the information in and then her eyes returned to the white-board. "Did you get the autopsy report from Lannie?"
"Yep. It's on your desk."
Beckett moved closer to the board, her hand dancing imperceptibly along the pictures, post-its and writing, almost as if she were trying to read Braille. She recited the evidence as she went along. "Okay, so we know that Fr. Ferrer was stabbed, and that the wound wasn't fatal."
"Heart attack," Ryan chimed in.
Beckett nodded. "There's no evidence that the body was moved, so we assume that he was killed right there in the church court yard."
Esposito picked up the autopsy report and flipped through it. "Time of death is undetermined, pending the results of further tests."
Beckett uncapped the dry erase marker and noted that on the board. "We have the knife used in the assault and we have a matching one from the church kitchen. There's no notation of a meeting in Fr. Ferrer's date book that night, so the question is who was he with and what was he doing out in the courtyard?"
"He was probably setting up the manger," Castle said as he came into the room carrying four cappuccinos on a tray.
Beckett spun around, "What?"
"The manger," Castle said. "It was only partially set up."
Esposito took a cup from the tray and said, "Catholics don't usually put the entire manger up all at once. The baby Jesus doesn't go in until Christmas Eve and the Magi don't go in until Epiphany."
"What about the shepherds and the animals?" Castle asked as he handed a cup to Ryan and Beckett. "Aren't their normally camels and sheep?"
Beckett lunged for her desk and grabbed a folder with the crime scene photos. She flipped through and showed one to Esposito. He looked it over and said, "Yup, there's an ox and an ass, but no sheep or camel." He glanced at the others. "So, maybe that's what he was doing outside."
Beckett turned to Ryan. "Can you call the church and confirm that? And find out if any of the other pieces are missing. Maybe this was a theft gone wrong."
"You got it," Ryan said as he headed for his desk making notes in his notebook.
Beckett turned back to the board. "There's a kid that helps out at the church named Danny Lawson," she told Esposito. "Fr. Ferrer gave him a room and a job a few months ago. We should run him and see if he has a criminal record."
She held out the employee roster from the church and Esposito took it, scanning the names. "What about these others. You want me to run them?"
"Sure. But do a full run-up on Lawson. Do one on Marge Adams while you're at it," she said. "She was really reluctant to tell us about Danny."
As Esposito headed for his desk Castle asked Beckett, "You think they had something to do with the murder?"
"I don't know. Technically we don't even know if we have a murder yet. But the only person other than Fr. Ferrer who would have been there that night is Danny Lawson."
"What about Fr. Ruiz?"
"He'd been called out to the hospital for an emergency." Beckett said. "Adams mentioned that Danny didn't have any real job skills. Maybe he was stealing things from the church and pawning them?"
"Like the cutlery?"
Beckett just shrugged as Ryan joined them back at the white-board. He had a smile on his face as he said, "Castle pegged it. Fr. Ferrer was setting up the manger in the courtyard that night. Apparently he did it the week before Christmas every year because they kids in the parish hold a pageant outdoors on Christmas Eve."
"Anything missing?" Beckett asked.
"Quite a few pieces." He took one of the photos and pointed at a Sheppard figurine. "See the gilding here? That's real gold."
Beckett nodded with determination. "Check with the pawn shops and see if any of the manger pieces have turned up." She glanced at Castle. "We need to get back to the church to ask Danny some questions."
"Better bring a bigger notebook than the one you keep in your purse," Castle told her. "Unless you know someone who can sign you're going to have to question him on paper."
"That could be construed as trying to coerce a confession," Ryan warned.
"You're right," Beckett said. She cast a disappointed look at the white-board. "We'd better wait until morning and talk to legal. Maybe see if the department can drum up an interpreter."
With a heavy sigh she added, "Crap."
Rick Castle sat in his office with his feet up on his desk and his laptop balanced on his lap. The lights were muted in the room and the silence was broken only by brief, staccato bursts of typing, and the occasional sounding of a single note from a bell rung by his daughter in their kitchen. It had been going on for so long now that he found himself cringing silently in anticipation of the jarring noise.
He tried his headphones and when he realized that they failed to completely dim the noise he slid his computer onto his desk, dropped his feet to the floor and yelled, "Alexis!"
His daughter poked her head into the room and said, "Yeah, Dad?"
"What are you doing?" Castle asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
Alexis scrunched up her face and held up a highly polished brass bell. "I'm practicing," she told him. Unlike her father she was unable to mask her annoyance "I'm in the bell choir for the Christmas concert at school and Grams said that all good artists practice their craft, no matter how small their role."
She sat on the corner of his desk, set the bell down on his blotter and added, "I play one note in the entire piece. One note!"
Castle tried to stifle a smile as he asked, "How did you end up in the bell choir?" Alexis hesitated, eyes drifting toward the ceiling and he said, "Ah, a boy."
She nodded enthusiastically. "A really cute boy. And I get to stand next to him in the choir." She prodded his computer with a finger and asked, "Writer's block?"
Castle shrugged. "Actually, I was sitting here trying to blame you for my lack of progress, but to be honest I'm having a hard time keeping my story and an actual murder investigation separate."
"That's not usually a problem, is it?" Alexis asked.
"No." Castle smiled up at his daughter. "I'm just tired and frustrated, I guess."
Alexis flashed him a mischievous grin. "Well, maybe an ice cream break is what we both need." She held out a hand and Castle grabbed it, allowing her to pull him to his feet. As they headed into the kitchen she said, "What's the case?"
"A murdered priest."
Castle sat at the counter while Alexis dug around in the freezer. She finally emerged, cradling five pints of ice cream in her arms. "That's so PBS murder mystery."
"It really is," Castle told her.
"Any suspects?"
"Bunches of them, unfortunately."
Alexis grabbed an ice cream scoop from a drawer, held it up and regarded it with mock sincerity. "This sounds like a scoop-of-each kind of problem."
"Except maybe the cherry-vanilla," Castle told her. "I'm pretty sure that gave me nightmares the last time I ate it before bed."
"How unfortunate for me," Alexis said as she dropped his scoop of cherry-vanilla into her bowl and licked the scoop clean. She slid a bowl across to her father and rummaged around in a drawer for spoons.
Castle took one of the spoons she offered and dipped it into the ice cream, twirling it around, shaving off a bit of each flavor and then popping it into his mouth. He glanced across the counter and said, "As always, I think you've found the perfect remedy."
"Glad I could help."
The two ate in silence for a while and then Castle said, "Hey, do you remember Celia from third grade?"
Alexis dropped her spoon and signed a short phrase for her father.
"Yes, your deaf friend," he confirmed with a smile.
Alexis grabbed her spoon again and asked, "What made you think of her?"
"One of our suspects is deaf," Castle told her. He licked his spoon thoughtfully. "Nice kid. Or, at least he seems to be."
"Then why is he a suspect?"
"Because he lives at the church where the priest was killed."
"So?"
"So he was the only other person there at the time of the murder."
"That seems a little unfair," Alexis said with a frown.
"What?"
"He's a suspect just because he was near the scene of the crime? Does he have a record or a history of violence? If not I'd say that your probable cause is a bit week."
"That may be true," Castle said. "But it's the best we have to go on."
"So you're saying that if Gram or you got murdered I would be a suspect just because I live here?"
"That's the way it works, Columbo."
"But that's terrible!" Alexis pushed her ice cream away and leaned her elbows on the counter. "What if he isn't really involved? What if he's innocent? Why should he have to go through the death of a friend and be interrogated as a suspect at the same time?"
Castle shrugged. "I don't make the rules, I just write about them. Besides, sometimes when we interrogate people who are remotely connected to the crime we end up getting some good leads."
"We?" Alexis asked, struggling to hide a grin. "So, you help with interrogations now?"
"Yes," Castle told her, a little defensively. "And if I do say so myself I think I'm getting pretty good at it."
"I'm sure you are Dad." Alexis took the empty bowls to the sink and rinsed them out. She spun around and said, "Besides, that's a pretty fair deal. Beckett helps you write your books and you help with her investigations."
"Beckett doesn't help me write my books. She just… inspires me."
"I'd say that's help." She followed her father back into his office and perched on his desk again, glancing around. "So, on to other, more pressing topics. Where'd you hide my Christmas presents this year?"
"Haven't been able to find them?" he asked casually.
She shook her head no.
"That's because I haven't picked anything out for you, yet."
"Liar." She looked at him reproachfully. "You know that half the fun is sneaking around, trying to find the packages so you can try to guess what's inside."
"Yes, and for the last two weeks you've been skulking around this place like a spy in a bad B movie." He propped his computer in his lap again and said, "Imagine how much joy it's given me to know that you won't actually be able to find them this year."
Alexis smiled and slid off the desk. She wrapped her arms around her father's neck and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "And yet I still love you."
She stood and grabbed her bell. "I've about had it with this thing for one night. Need anything before I go to bed?"
"You could wrap your grandmother's gifts for me."
"Why bother. She already knows you got her jewelry."
He glanced up hopefully. "What'd she get me?"
Alexis stopped in the doorway. "None of your business."
"She didn't get me another tie, did she?"
As Alexis left he called out in desperation, "Did she?"
Early the next morning Beckett sat at her desk flipping through the case file and making notes on a pad of paper. Occasionally she glanced at her phone as if willing it to ring. She had placed calls to the legal department who finally referred her to an agency that provided interpreters for the court system. They had told her they would call as soon as they could find an interpreter for the hearing impaired.
Ryan and Esposito were visiting pawn shops in the city looking for the missing manger pieces and Castle had yet to make it into the office. As Beckett flipped through the file once more Captain Montgomery walked up and asked, "Any progress?"
She let the pages of the file fall back into the folder and looked up at him. "Maybe." At his expectant expression she said, "It looks like there was a theft from the church the night Fr. Ferrer was murdered. Ryan and Esposito are checking out pawn shops."
"Any suspects?" Montgomery asked.
"Again, maybe," Beckett told him. "A kid who works at the church, has a room in the rectory and should have been there at the time of the murder."
"Have you questioned him?"
She shook her head no. "He's deaf, and I'm waiting for legal to find an interpreter. Once we have one locked in I'll bring Lawson in for questioning."
Montgomery studied her a moment. The look on her face prompted him to say, "But you don't believe he did it."
"Not at all," Beckett said, a note of resignation in her voice. "We're spinning our wheels on this one, Captain. Lannie hasn't been able to come up with a conclusive time of death, she still can't say whether or not the heart attack was caused by the stabbing, AFIS hasn't turned anything on the fingerprints we found on the murder weapon, a murder weapon which potentially hundreds of people had access to, we have no witnesses to speak of…"
Montgomery held up a hand to stop her. "I get it." He smiled gently and said, "Let me know if there is anything I can do. I've got some friends over at legal who owe me some favors."
Esposito and Ryan entered the Bullpen and Ryan held up a photo with a look of triumph on his face. "Pawn shop over on 8th Avenue had the stolen manger pieces."
Picking up where his partner left off Esposito said, "Luckily they have good surveillance equipment. They were a little reluctant to release anything to us without a court order, but once we explained that we could get a search warrant to check the rest of their merchandise while we were at it they decided to print us out a photo of the suspect."
Beckett took the photo and Montgomery glanced at it over her shoulder. He looked up at Esposito and asked, "The guy have any ID?"
"Probably a fake, but I have a photo copy," Ryan said. "I'll start running it through the system."
Glancing at his watch Montgomery said, "I think I'll go light a fire under some people at legal."
As he left Esposito glanced around the office. "Where's Castle?"
"I don't know," Beckett told him. "He hasn't checked in yet. Has AFIS returned anything on the prints, yet?"
"No. CID says they're backed up but they'll run the prints for us as soon as they can."
"Great. Another roadblock." Beckett got up and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. "If Castle gets in tell him I went to see Lannie. I want to see if she's got anything new."
"I got the 'Tox Screen results back from the lab and there were no irregularities." Lannie Parish pushed a sheet of paper across her desk. "I can estimate the time of death to right around midnight, give or take a couple of hours."
Beckett glanced at the 'Tox Report and asked, "No way to narrow it down further?"
Parish shook her head no. "I did talk to the victim's personal physician, though, and he said that Fr. Ferrer suffered from COPD; Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder."
"Would that cause him to have a heart attack?" Beckett asked.
"If he were under enough stress, it would." Parish confirmed.
"But we still don't have anything conclusive."
Parish gave a non-committal shrug. "The autopsy results show that he had a blocked artery and his doctor said he suffered from high blood pressure even though they had him on medication. Honey, he was gonna have a heart attack one way or the other. It was just a mater of time."
"Or the right circumstances," Beckett said. "If there was a fight the stress would likely have been enough to bring on the heart attack, right?"
"That, along with the injury itself," Parish told her. "When the body takes a traumatic injury like that it tries to put as many of its resources into the injury as it can. Fr. Ferrer's body didn't have much left to give."
"So, we have enough to justify a murder charge?"
Parish nodded. "At the very least you have enough to take it to trial."
"Now we just need a solid suspect."
"So, the doctor says, "We don't take that kind of payment here."
Even on the stairwell Kate Beckett could hear the punch line of Castle's joke followed by a roar of laughter.
As she came off the set of stairs detectives started to scatter and she saw Castle sitting on the edge of her desk. Ryan and Esposito were next to him and when Esposito saw her he walked over and held out a Rap Sheet complete with photo.
"Mickey McGuinn," he announced proudly. "Small time hood and possible murder suspect."
"AFIS finally came through?" Beckett asked. She recognized the photo as a match for the one from the pawn shop. "That's our boy, all right."
Esposito nodded. "He's got a ticket the length of my arm, but it's mostly petty stuff. Thefts, robbery, a couple of assaults."
"Looks like he's graduated to the big league."
Ryan joined them. "Captain also says he's got an interpreter lined up for the interview with Danny Lawson. He can meet you at the church in half an hour."
She glanced at the clock. "Okay, you guys chase down McGuinn and Castle and I will go and interview Danny."
"It'll be our pleasure," Esposito said. He folded the Rap Sheet and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
Castle walked over to Beckett and asked, "If McGuinn's fingerprints were on the knife and he's our prime suspect why do we still need to interview Danny?"
"To protect him." Beckett's answer caught him off guard. "And because even though we have a match on the fingerprints McGuinn could say that he was simply eating at the soup kitchen. With as many people as they serve I doubt anyone could say for certain that he hadn't been there.
"We need some corroborating evidence," Beckett said. "Maybe Danny saw something that can help us out."
In the church hall kitchen Marge Adams stood furiously staring at Beckett, Castle and the interpreter. "This is preposterous!" she stated. "Danny Lawson is one of the gentlest souls I have ever met. He'll be scared to death when I tell him you need to interview him."
Beckett bit back an equally angry retort and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Ms. Adams, we are not hear to accuse Danny of anything. But we need his help. We think we know who murdered Fr. Ferrer and we're hoping that somehow Danny saw what happened. At the very least maybe he saw the suspect here at the church that night."
"You have to understand that Danny isn't like most people," Adams said. "He's led a sheltered life. He doesn't understand things the way most people do."
"Regardless of whether or not he understands, I still need to speak to him," Beckett told her. "Now, I can either do it here or I can do it at the police station, but I think we would all prefer that I conducted the interview here."
"Yes, we would," a gentle voice said. Beckett turned and saw a young, Hispanic priest standing in the entryway to the kitchen. Fr. Ruiz looked at her and said, "Danny is ready to talk to you, Detective. But I would ask that Ms. Adams and I be allowed to sit in on the interview."
Beckett nodded. "Okay. Where is he?"
"He's in the courtyard setting up our old manger." Ruiz said. "I'm grateful that the police department released the crime scene back to us so that the children can put on their pageant. I know that they will miss Fr. Ferrer, but I think that it is important for us to move on. Many of our parishioners, and the people of this community, gather each year for the Christmas pageant. I asked Danny to set up our old manger so that it would seem as normal as possible."
He gestured toward the door. "Please. I think Danny has some things that he needs to tell you."
In the courtyard they found Danny Lawson arranging and rearranging the figures from the manger. As they watched he repositioned each piece until he was satisfied with their placement. Then he picked up the figurine of the baby Jesus and stood, turning to see the others.
His eyes met Beckett's and then he glanced over at Fr. Ruiz.
"The children will carry in the baby and place it in the manger," Fr. Ruiz mentioned as he walked over to take the statue from Danny. "It's traditional and they love to do it."
"I'd like to come to watch it," Castle said in a low voice.
As if she had forgotten that he was there Beckett spun around and looked at him. Realizing just how genuinely he meant what he had said she smiled. Fr. Ruiz smiled, too. "I hope you will come. All of you. Now, Detective, if you would like to begin?"
Beckett and the interpreter moved in front of Danny. His eyes shifted between them, but he focused on the interpreter's hands when she began to sign. "Danny," Becket said. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm Detective Beckett and I'm investigating Fr. Ferrer's murder."
Danny waited until the interpreter was done and then he looked at Beckett and nodded to indicated that he remembered.
"Okay," Beckett said a little hesitantly. She glanced at Castle who nodded in encouragement. Focusing on Danny again she said, "I think maybe you were here the night Fr. Ferrer was killed, and I think that you saw what happened."
When the interpreter was done Danny looked at Beckett again. She couldn't tell if he was feeling fear or shame, but he finally nodded in the affirmative.
"Did you see who killed Fr. Ferrer?" Beckett asked.
Danny nodded yes and tears started to fall from his eyes.
A knot suddenly formed in Beckett's stomach and she looked over at Fr. Ruiz. He stared at her for a moment and she recognized the look of sadness in his face.
When she looked back at Danny she said, "You had the knife."
Danny nodded briefly.
Ms. Adams gasped and Beckett asked, "Danny, what happened?"
Danny quickly wiped tears from his face and then he started to sign, slowly at first, but more quickly as he went.
"He says that he was asleep in his room that night, but that something woke him up," the interpreter said.
"What woke him?" Beckett asked.
The interpreter signed a question and when Danny replied she looked at Beckett and said, "He doesn't remember."
"Tell him to go on," Beckett said.
The woman nodded and as Danny began to sign again she watched intently. "He says that when he woke up it was after midnight. He noticed that there were lights on in the building, and that was unusual." There was a pause. "He got up to see why the lights were on and he saw Fr. Ferrer and a man in the courtyard arguing. He says that they were fighting over a figure from the manger."
As Danny continued the woman interpreted for the others. "He says that the man was big, and that he was pushing Fr. Ferrer around. He got scared and went into the kitchen and got the knife. He didn't want to hurt the man, but he wanted him to stop fighting with Father. He says that when he got back outside he went over to help but the man pushed him away."
Danny was crying harder now, but he continued to sign. "He says that he fell and that he dropped the knife. The man picked it up." There was a longer pause and then the woman turned to face Beckett. "He says that Father Ferrer stepped in between the two of them and tried to grab the knife. But he grabbed his chest, instead, and then he fell." The woman glanced at Danny a second and then looked back. "He fell on the knife."
"Why didn't he tell anyone?" Beckett asked. "Why didn't he try to get help?"
"Because he was scared." Fr. Ruiz had come forward and put a hand on Danny's shoulder. "He was afraid that he would have to go to jail. He was afraid that we wouldn't let him stay here any longer.
"Detective, Danny hasn't had to make many decisions for himself in life. He hasn't had the same experiences of choosing right or wrong as we have. He and I have discussed what happened and I believe him. I have everything in writing." He glanced at the young man and said, "Danny will sign whatever you need, and I will testify in court to everything that has been said here. Danny did not mean to kill anyone. I don't know if the other man did either."
Beckett nodded and said, "I'll take whatever you have, but I'm afraid Danny will still need to come to the police station with me."
"I understand," the young priest said.
As they walked inside the church the bells began to chime.
Back at the 12th precinct Beckett and Castle sat staring into their cups of coffee. After a long, drawn out silence Beckett looked across her desk and said, "Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve. You have any plans?"
Castle took a sip of his coffee. "I think I'll ask my mother and Alexis if they'd like to go to the church to watch the Christmas pageant." He hesitated and finally asked, "Want to join us?"
Beckett smiled. "Maybe." She sipped her coffee as another silence filled the room. "I wonder what woke Danny up that night at the church."
"I think it was the bells," Castle told her.
She gave him a questioning look and he said, "When I was little my mother didn't take me to church very often. But I remember this one time when she was dating a man…" A wicked glint came into his eyes. "He was an Episcopalian minister… Anyway, he promised that if I behaved myself during the service he would let me ring the bells at the end. They had this old, rope pull and it took everything that I had to tug on it enough to ring them. I'd never heard or felt anything like it."
"Felt?" Beckett asked.
"The sound vibrated right down from my head to my toes. It was amazing."
"And you think Danny felt the bells ringing, woke up, saw the lights and figured something was wrong?"
Castle shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. "Do you think he'll face any charges?"
Beckett shook her head no. "When Ryan and Esposito brought in McGuinn he gave the same story that Danny did. You've got to hand it to him. He didn't try to throw the kid under the bus."
"Must've been the Christmas Spirit," Castle said. He got up and added, "Anyway, I have to go. You think you can hold on to Alexis' gifts for another night?"
"Sure," Beckett told him. After a moment she said, "I tell you what. You can pick them up when you come to get me for the Christmas pageant tomorrow night. I'll be ready about 7:00."
Castle smiled and said, "Make it 5:00 and you can go to dinner with us."
The bells on the church played Ave Maria as Lannie Parish, Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan walked into the courtyard at the church. They glanced into a corner where a group of children were standing with Fr. Ruiz around a picture of Fr. Alan Ferrer. The young priest saw them and waved.
They watched as Danny Lawson lit the vigil candle in front of the photo.
Across the way Castle and Beckett stood near the manger. As he waved across the courtyard Castle leaned in and asked Beckett, "Not a bad way to spend Christmas Eve, is it?"
"Not a bad way at all," Beckett told him. She watched as Alexis' high school bell choir set up to play carols for the pageant. "How'd you get them to play tonight at such short notice?"
Castle shrugged. "The power of love."
Beckett cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Love?"
"Okay, maybe not love, but see the guy in the red sweater standing next to Alexis?"
"Yeah?" As she watched Alexis dropped her scarf and the young man immediately snatched it off the ground, brushed it off and handed it back to Alexis. When their eyes met Beckett knew exactly what Castle had meant. "Ah."
"Yup. Anyway, remember the other day when you mentioned something in Esposito's personnel file? Something about 2001?"
Beckett hesitated and said, "Yeah?"
"What were you talking about?"
Beckett laughed. "It's a personnel file, Castle. As in personal."
"So?"
"So it's none of your business."
"Awww, come on." Castle fished around in his jacket pocket and took out a small, wrapped present. As he handed it to Beckett he said, "Here. I'll make it easy on you. I have a little Christmas present for you, now you can give something back to me. Like information."
"Sorry," Beckett reached into her purse and withdrew a small, wrapped gift. "Here you go."
Castle stared at the present. "You actually bought me a gift?"
"What, that surprises you?" Beckett asked. "Isn't that what friends do at Christmas?"
"Yeah, but…" Castle stammered. "I didn't expect…"
He took the gift and held it in both hands. "Thanks," he finally told her. "And Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you, too." She saw the kids moving toward the manger as the bell choir started to play. "Look, the pageant is about to start."
They turned to watch the procession and Castle whispered, "So, 2001?"
- The End -
Merry Christmas!
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