Here is my story, woo. Hope you like it. Read, comment, favorite and stuff. I realize that there is no such thing as a leprechaun toss in Ireland, let's just pretend for this. And I hope my Irish dialect was okay. No copyright intended. I don't own Castle.
Four rowdy Irishmen. Please. He could handle that in his sleep. That was nothing compared to his family reunions growing up. The brothers of this suspect were going to be a walk in the park compared to the countless cousins that inhabited his memories of Christmas, Easter, birthdays and specifically, Saint Patrick's Day. He'd always been a small kid, even for one of Irish heritage. At age ten he still was the size of a seven year old and his older cousins delighted in teasing him, holding his toys just out of his reach and watching him jump for them. That is, until someone interfered, more than likely one of his older sisters, fiercely protective of their 'little baby brother'.
So yeah. He could do this. That was what Detective Kevin Ryan thought in his head as he hesitated outside the entrance to the bar. It was stereotypically named 'St. Paddy's Tavern' and even with the thick wooden door shut, he could hear the hoots and hollers that rescinded from inside. Last time he'd been in a bar like this...well, it had been back in his Narcotics days. Just a drug bust, but that time, he'd had back up.
I don't need backup, he berated himself at the childish thought. I'm not bringing in suspects, I'm just having a nice friendly chat with some nice friendly men...over six feet tall, each with their own records of assault. He blew a deep breath out through his mouth and quit stalling. With a pull of the door handle, the heavy (and unforgettable) aroma of too much alcohol and not enough ventilation blasted him in the face. Ryan set his jaw and entered the bar, peering around the dimly lit room. The second he had walked in, the din of the patrons had decreased noticeably, but, as if it were not possible to remain quiet, the noise increased once more. Ryan did notice more than a couple eyes now set in his direction and not with the friendliness that he had been naively hoping for in them. Never mind his attire, no, they could smell he was a cop. And cops were bad news. Cops meant one of them was in trouble, because Ryan was sure, as he looked around the bar, that he'd seen some of the faces in records back at the precinct.
Ryan's hand unconsciously traveled down to his belt, tapping his service weapon lightly. It was the only action that displayed his nervousness as he approached the bar. He leaned one elbow on the sticky wooden surface and leaned forward, calling out to the bartender.
"I'm looking for the McManus brothers."
Short and sweet, that's how you did it. The bartender, a man who looked like he would benefit from a shower and some fresh clothes and maybe some anger management classes, if his cruel eyes and misspelled prison tattoos were anything to go by, stared at him for a moment and then carelessly swiped his dirty rag in a random direction. He resumed cleaning a glass that wasn't clean before, and was definitely not going to be clean after. Ryan thanked the man with a brief nod and turned where he had gestured, a grimace on his face. This was definitely one of the less impressive bars he'd ever been to.
The table that the bartender had pointed out was occupied by six very large men, all of whom were now staring at Ryan, having noticed the bartender's direction. He held back a nervous swallow and approached the table, his hand coming off his gun to rest at his waist, grabbing his badge and holding it up for the men to see.
"Detective Ryan, NYPD. Which four of you are the McManus brothers?"
He asked, putting power into his voice like he'd seen Beckett and Esposito do so many times. For a few moments they all just stared at him, silent, and he had to fight the urge to blink under their unyielding gazes. After what seemed like hours, when Ryan's arm was started to hurt from holding his badge up, one of the men broke the staring contest and glanced at the others around the table.
"We're n't in trouble, are we, Detective?"
He asked condescendingly in a thick Irish accent (though Ryan hadn't been expecting anything else, really). The men who had spoken looked up at him and smirked, just a little quirk of the lips, to tell him that this was their house and they made the rules. Ryan's eyes narrowed and he stood up a little straighter.
"No, but I need to ask you four some questions about your sister and her ex-boyfriend, Zach Lindsey."
It was as if he'd said the magic word when he uttered 'sister', as four of the men sitting around the table looked up from their mugs of beer and peered at him more intently. The smallest of the bunch (and that really wasn't saying much, he was still taller than Ryan) piped up.
"Wha' about Bridget? Is she'n trouble? Did tha' twat 'urt 'er?"
He inquired, poorly hidden concern along with anger in his tone. Ryan inwardly smirked. Now he had their attention.
"I just need to know your whereabouts this morning."
He said, not really answering their question about their sister. She was fine, and probably wasn't in any trouble, but if it would get these guys talking, well, they could think whatever they wanted to think. Who was he to get in the way of cooperating suspects?
The four men that he presumed were the McManus brothers stood from the table and he glanced around for a place where they could talk more privately. Spotting a back door, Ryan led the way, feeling more confident about this than he had before. Said back door led to a kitchen that was about as clean as the main room. A lot emptier, though. Ryan spun around in a circle, eyes wandering for something that they could sit on. He hummed under his breath in approval when he spotted a small, albeit crooked, table with chairs. He turned back to the brothers and gestured that they should sit, then sat himself.
"I need to know where you four were early this morning, between one and five am."
He started, his small notepad out, pen poised to write. He glanced up at the men. He could definitely tell they were brothers by looking at them. The same nose, the same eyes, the same angry look on their face, the same giant meaty hand coming from nowhere and grabbing his tie from across the table...wait, what?!
Ryan was only able to elicit a short gasp as his tie was yanked by one of the brothers and he found himself eye to eye with the largest of them all. Ryan quickly recounted their names in his head; Sean, Patrick, Colin and Seamus. Irish as they come. He fumbled for his gun but didn't pull it out quite yet.
"Let go of my tie or I'll arrest you for assaulting a police officer."
He said slowly and carefully, like speaking to a wild animal, all whilst maintaining eye contact. He noticed out of his peripheral vision one of the other brothers nudging the brother who was giving Ryan an awful neck burn, and finally, he let go. Ryan moved back into his seat, moving his tie so it didn't feel like it was strangling him and clearing his throat. The oldest brother...let's just call him 'grabby' for now, glared at him but remained still. The brother who had probably saved his brother from being shot and/or arrested offered Ryan an uneasy grin.
"Sorry 'bout that. Seamus gits a little bi' protective ova' Bridget."
He explained, trying to diffuse the situation. Ryan gave his tie one more tug and kept his eyes on the brother who was speaking. All he needed were their whereabouts and then he could leave them in peace. If he never saw them again, it would be too soon.
"Just...where were you."
He said flatly, getting tired of playing a game with these men.
"This mornin'...err, well, we were a'the New Paltz stadium all mornin', at leas' until nine."
Ryan dropped his stoic face for a moment to crease his eyebrows, not sure what stadium they were talking about. Football, baseball, soccer? He racked his brain trying to think if he had read anything that advertised a sporting event that would have lasted late into the next morning. Seeing the confused look on the Detective's face, silent brother number one finally spoke up.
"Ya know...leprechaun toss."
Oh. Ryan cleared his throat again, but this time in embarrassment. Oh, how he wished he didn't know what they were talking about. But alas, he'd grown up in an Irish family and yes, he was familiar with a leprechaun toss. There'd been many a Ryan family reunion where he found himself dragged into his cousins' games, being tossed around like a rag doll. Memories that he'd rather keep to himself, thank you very much. Ryan quickly jotted down the information, just for appearances, though. He wasn't likely to forget their alibi.
"And can anyone verify that?"
He asked and all of a sudden the four brothers all grinned. Silent brother number two chuckled, clapping Seamus on the shoulder.
"Ask an'one there. Seamus here got firs' place and made sure ever'one knew 'bout it."
He stated and the rest of the brothers chuckled as well, recalling the morning. Seamus grinned goofily, obviously proud of his achievement. With arms like his, though, it didn't really surprise Ryan that he'd won.
Ryan placed his hands on the table and pushed himself up, smiling at the four of them.
"That's all I need to know. Thank you for your time."
He said and turned to leave. Before he could escape the kitchen that was starting to feel stifling, a hand tugged on his suit jacket, nearly making him lose his footing as he turned back around. It was Seamus again, but the goofy grin was gone and replaced with a serious frown.
"Is Bridget okay?"
He asked and Ryan shot a glance down at the hand grasping his suit, knowing it was just an older brother worried about his younger sister but having to fight the urge to yank his jacket out of his grip. He looked Seamus in the eye.
"She's fine."
He said and Seamus gave the material one last tug before letting it go. Ryan rolled his shoulders and nodded his farewell to the four brothers before making a hasty retreat from the kitchen and then the restaurant. He loosened his tie a little bit, tugging up his collar so the red mark around his neck couldn't be seen. If Javier saw that and suspected that he'd been roughed up by those men, he'd go all badass cop on them, and that was the last thing they needed. Not to mention what Beckett or Castle would do if they saw it. No, much easier to keep it hidden. Ryan hailed a cab from the street and got in, directing the driver to the 12th Precinct. As it was, he was already not looking forward to informing the rest of his team of the McManus brothers' alibi.
That went well.