Word Count: 3, 098
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing in the following work of fiction.
Warnings: Contains mature content.
"Beckett," she replied, lifting the phone off her nightstand. "Alright, I'll be right there."
Dragging herself from the warm comfort of her bed, Beckett looked at the clock then scrolled through the contacts on her phone. She was grabbing a shirt out of the dresser when the line was answered.
"Castle."
"We've got a case," Beckett said, pulling on a shirt and beginning on the buttons.
"It's four in the morning," he grumbled.
"You'll want to get up for this."
"Do tell." She could hear him getting out of bed already.
"They didn't give me much over the phone. Just said it was our kind of case."
That peaked his interest.
"Where is it?"
XxxX
"What have we got?" Beckett asked as she ducked under the crime scene tape.
"Anonymous tip came in that there was a fire in the park. Fire department showed up and put it out, found a body on top of the fire. We haven't moved anything, but I don't know what the water might have done to the evidence."
They reached one of the many athletic fields in the park and Beckett finally began to understand.
"Is that a funeral pyre?" came a voice from behind her.
"Look like," she said, looking at Castle who handed her a cup of coffee.
"Awesome."
Walking closer, Castle and Beckett took in the scene. The field was flat and open, so the uniforms had taped off the entire area and most of the paths leading to it to prevent public eyes seeing something they shouldn't. In the middle of the field was what looked to be a crudely built funeral pyre with the charred remains sitting atop it. A frame fashioned out of thick logs formed the base and top level where the body was put. Bundles of sticks and chopped boards were stuffed inside the frame to feed the fire. The body was charred beyond recognition. Any clothing he might have been wearing had either been burned away or fused to his skin, making it almost impossible to separate the two. The most curious detail was the two coins placed over what would have been his eyes.
"I might be able to get an ID from dental records," said Lanie, appearing from the other side of the pyre. "So far we have male, early 30's."
"Can you give us time of death?" Beckett ventured, trying not to breathe too deeply and avoid the smell that would inevitably stick with her.
"Maybe when I get him back to the morgue. There isn't much I can do here. You guys can have the coins, they won't do me any good."
Beckett nodded, getting a pair of gloves and tweezers from one of the CSU officers. She carefully lifted each coin, one at a time, into an evidence bag and sealed it.
"That's weird," Lanie remarked, looking at the charred face of their victim.
"What?"
Both Castle and Beckett turned to see what caught the ME's attention.
"His eyes are missing."
"Maybe they burned up in the fire?" Castle suggested, turning his head to regard the empty eye sockets from another angle. "Looks like he should have gotten out of the kitchen."
"It's possible. I'll take a look when I get him on the table," Lanie said, rolling her eyes at the author.
"Thanks, call us when you get something," Beckett said, turning to Esposito who had just arrived on scene.
"Let's get CSU to canvas the surrounding area. We can start with the coins. There's not much else to go on until Lanie gives us TOD or a name."
XxxxX
Beckett rubbed her eyes tiredly as she leaned back in her chair. Castle had dozed off a few minutes before, not used to being up so early. With an evil grin she kicked the leg of his chair, jolting him awake.
"I'm awake!" he insisted, disoriented.
He shook his head and scratched his five o'clock shadow. He looked at her computer screen where a collage of old coin photos were waiting for her inspection.
"Find anything?"
He picked up his coffee cup, putting it back down when he found it empty.
"No. There's a couple that are close, but nothing is exactly the same."
Castle frowned in thought as Beckett's phone rang. She spoke briefly with the person on the line, then stood to grab her jacket and keys.
"Come on, Lanie has something for us."
XxxxX
"Dental records matched a Luke Demarcus. 35, lived in Queens," Lanie said, handing Beckett a file. "Gouges in the orbital cavity indicate that his eyes were cut out. They were severed at the optic nerve with something sharp, possibly a scalpel."
"Cause of death?" Beckett asked, writing down the information.
"I'm going to need more time for that and time. The fire messed up a lot of things and then the fire department didn't help matters when they hosed him down. I'll call you when I get more."
The pair nodded and made their way out of the morgue and back onto the Manhattan streets. Castle watched Beckett bite her lip as her brow furrowed in thought.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, sliding into the passenger seat of the cruiser.
"I-I don't know. This whole thing is weird," she said, dropping her hand away from the ignition. "I mean, you kill the guy, then go to the trouble of setting up a funeral pyre in the middle of Central Park, at night. But you take the eyes and leave coins behind. There had to be at least two people to pull this off."
"I think I've got a guy that might be able to help. Do you still have the coins with you?" Castle said, pulling out his phone.
"We were going to have the lab dust for prints remember?" Beckett sighed, pulling out the evidence bag.
"Good, head to the Upper Eastside," he said. "Hi, it's Rick Castle. Is Jackie in?"
Beckett called the victim's name in to Ryan and Esposito so they could start compiling a profile. She pulled out into traffic while Castle talked to whoever was on the phone. When he hung up, Beckett turned and gave him a look that demanded answers.
"Don't worry, I've used Jacques before. He's helped me with the historical details in my books and he's freaky accurate."
"Castle if this is some sort of wild goose chase…" Beckett grumbled.
"You know what your problem is Detective? No faith."
"Oh I have plenty of faith, just not in your crazy ideas."
"Well my 'crazy ideas' as you put it, seem to be helping," he pointed out.
She couldn't argue so remained silent and guided the car through traffic. The address ended up being in the wealthiest part of the Upper Eastside just off 5th Avenue. Beckett parked the car and got out, gaping up at the building in front of her.
"He lives here!" she said, suddenly feeling underdressed.
"Don't worry. If anyone can tell us about those coins, it'll be Jacques."
Castle led her into the building, past the doorman and private reception desk. In the elevator, Castle fidgeted in silence for a moment before speaking.
"I should warn you. Jacques is a little…"
"A little what?" Beckett glared, not liking where he was going.
"Over the top. Eccentric, I guess would be a good word for it."
"This from the man who wanted to book a seat on the Space Shuttle?"
"I know, I know. I'm just telling you, he's a lot to take in at first."
With a knot of nervous anticipation in her stomach, Beckett followed Castle out of the elevator and into the private entryway. He knocked on the door and a moment later a formally dressed butler opened it and ushered them in.
"Master St. Jean is indisposed at the moment, but he will be with you shortly. May I take your coats?" he said, in a crisp British accent.
'Cliché much?' Beckett thought.
They handed his their outerwear and removed their shoes at the butler's request.
"I'll go inform the Master that you've arrived. My name is Talbot. If you need anything, I am head of the household staff and would be more than happy to indulge your request."
Talbot gave a half bow before disappearing down an opulent hallway.
"Talbot, really?" Beckett asked, raising an eyebrow in Castle's direction.
"Have you ever heard of a butler called Steve or Bob?" Castle shrugged.
She conceded that he had a point and returned to inspecting the large foyer where they stood. The floors were hardwood polished to reflecting and a grand staircase made of what looked like marble stood opposite the front door. Three hallways going to their left, right, and parallel to the stairs were just as elegantly furnished with classic sculptures and antique looking rugs. Before she could observe further a door up the stairs burst open as a man fell into a backwards summersault through the doorway. He landed gracefully on his feet and Beckett's eyes widened when she caught sight of the fencing sword in his hand.
The man feinted left, striking a hard jab to his opponent's right side, then turned and slid down the marble banister and once again landed nimbly on his feet before them. He looked like a fairytale rogue in a pair of tan riding pants with loose button up shirt and crimson suit vest. Dark hair was still perfectly styled despite his activity and sharp brown eyes sparked recognition as his gaze fell on Castle.
"Un moment s'il vous plait," he said in quick, clipped French. "Mademoiselle, Monsieur l'Auteur."
Beckett turned another look on Castle who just shrugged. Jacques and his opponent disappeared down another hallway and out of sight.
"Save your bullets Detective," Castle grinned. "If he can't help us, then no one can. And to be fair, I did warn you."
"You could have mentioned he didn't speak English," Beckett griped. "My French is more than a little rusty."
"Take a breath. He speaks English. How good do you think my French is?" he laughed.
"Pardonez-moi," Jacques said, appearing from the hallway beside the stairs. "Nicklaus has a large tournament when he returns to France and doesn't want to lose his edge. Now, Richard qui est cette belle femme and how may I be of service."
His accent made Castle's name sound more like REE-shard and Beckett found she didn't much mind being called beautiful in French.
"Jacques may I introduce Detective Kate Beckett. Beckett this is Jacques St. Jean."
"Enchanté," Jacques grinned, kissing the back of Beckett's outstretched hand. "And please, call me Jack. I'm afraid Richard's misguided Americanization of my name has grown on me."
"I'm helping Detective Beckett with her investigation and we found something at our crime scene that I thought you might be able to help us with," said Castle, discreetly moving closer to Beckett.
Beckett handed Jack the evidence bag. He took it, examining the coins inside with a practiced eye.
"Hmm, yes. Looks like it could be Greek, possibly Roman. Where did you say you found them?"
"On a murder victim's eyes. Or where his eyes should have been," Castle said, ignoring Beckett's glare.
"Well let's take a closer look," Jack said, heading off down a hallway and indicating they should follow.
Beckett quickly discovered that the decadence of the condo didn't end with the foyer. Jack led them into a large two story library/study area full of wall to wall bookcases and antique furniture. It looked like something out of Beauty and the Beast with its rolling ladders and large fireplace at one end. A sitting area with overstuffed furniture was gathered around the hearth while the opposite end was more modern, containing an antique looking desk with a computer and various electronics scattered around. Two other tables held artifacts and equipment, some of which Beckett had seen Lanie use at the morgue.
Jack went over to the table that had a large magnifying glass on it, collecting a remote on the way. He clicked a button and music began to filter out from speakers hidden around the room.
"I hope you don't mind. It helps me work," he said, retrieving a pair of gloves from a box on the table.
Beckett took a moment to be impressed at his forethought before the familiar music registered in her brain.
"Is that Lady Gaga?" she asked, biting back a laugh.
"I'm a man of varying tastes Mademoiselle la Détective," Jack said, not looking up from the magnifying glass.
"I guess I was expecting something a little less…"
"Contemporary?" Castle offered.
Beckett didn't answer as Jack picked up a pair of reading glasses from the desk and climbed a ladder to the bookshelf. He slid down a moment later, flipping pages in the book.
"Just as I thought. It would seem you've stumbled upon something quite rare here Détective. These coins haven't been seen since Napoleon's time. No one knows for sure, but it's said they date back as far as Constantinople."
Beckett's eyes widened.
"They've been attributed to a cult that has popped up all over history. Some accounts say they're Satanic, others say they're descended from a small ancient Egyptian sect that worshipped Osiris and the information became distorted with time. Like a game of telephone played over thousands of years."
"What does that have to do with the coins?" Castle asked, sitting beside Beckett on one of the sofas in front of the fire.
"Depending on what you read, the coins were used for everything from entrance to the secret meeting place to paying off Satan during ritual sacrifice. The general, tentative consensus seems to be that they were used in some sort of ritual. Of course Satanism has become relatively tame throughout history, so the thought is that the coins were lost because they were no longer needed. Despite popular opinion, Satanism has little or no sacrificial element anymore. And of course they could have been lost because so few were made."
"You said that Satanists don't perform sacrifices, but if this cult is some sort of fanatical deviation then is it possible that they killed him and took his eyes as some sort of ritualistic slaughter? Are we going to find more people like this?"
Jack closed his book and set it on the coffee table in front of his chair. He set his glasses on top of the book and gave them a thoughtful look.
"Ce n'est pas impossible," he conceded. "But I wouldn't discount the theory that your killer might have taken the victim's eyes as trophies. It could be a combination of the two."
"How so?" Beckett asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.
"Well if you're correct and it is some sort of ritual, then it's possible that it's an initiation ritual. The eyes could have been taken as proof of the initiate's success. That is a perfectly plausible theory. Other than the coins, what can you tell me about the crime scene?"
Beckett looked hesitant to release details of an ongoing investigation to a stranger. No matter how charming he was.
"Détective, I promise that whatever you say will not leave this room through my lips. I am simply trying to find historical clues that could aide your investigation."
Beckett sighed and Castle knew she was giving in.
"The victim was found burning on a funeral pyre in Central Park early this morning. The coins were on his eyes. We don't know how he was killed yet."
"A funeral pyre? That makes even less sense than before." At Castle and Beckett's blank looks Jack continued, "The funeral pyre was used by several societies throughout history, most notably the Norse and the Romans. However the common theme was that it was almost always very important people who were burned. Historically your everyday person was not usually burned on a pyre. So assumption number one: Your victim was someone important to the person or persons who burned him."
"And number two?" Beckett prompted.
"Assumption number two is that the people who killed him felt remorse. The coins indicate a concern for what happens after he's dead. Traditionally coins on the eyes were used to pay the ferryman so the deceased could cross The River Styx into the underworld. So the pyre and the coins lend themselves towards premeditation. I don't really know what to say. If this was done as some sort of ritualistic initiation, then the people did it under duress or very reluctantly."
With frown, Beckett mulled over the information Jack had given them. What he said made sense and yet it raised more questions than it answered. Were they looking for an ancient, possibly Satanic cult, that felt remorse over killing people? Was their victim possibly someone high ranking within the group? The questions raced through her mind at a rapid fire pace.
"Can you think of anywhere the killers might have obtained the coins from?"
"Non," Jack said, scratching his clean shaven jaw. "But if you give me some time, I can make a few calls and see what turns up."
Before they could say anymore, Talbot appeared in the doorway to the library.
"Sorry to intrude, but Master St. Jean, sir, your instructor is here."
"Merci Talbot. I think we're about finished here for now," Jack said, standing with Castle and Beckett.
He asked Beckett's permission, then took a few pictures of the coins before bagging them again and handing them back.
"It's been a pleasure. I'll let you know when if my searches find anything," he said, kissing each of Beckett's cheeks and giving Castle a firm handshake. "Mademoiselle la Détective, Monsieur l'Auteur. Excusez-moi, I have a bagpipe lesson to get to. Talbot will show you out."
The pair thought over their new information as the butler gathered their coats and led them to the elevator.
"What did he mean when he said Jack was a misguided Americanization of his name?" Beckett asked as they descended the floors back to the street.
"Jacques is actually French for Jacob. Jack is a nickname for John. I used to do it to annoy him, but it's lost its effectiveness in recent years," he laughed.
"And what does he call you? Mr. – something. Author?"
"It's a French thing," Castle nodded.
"He sure is… different."
"You have to admit, he knows his history."
"Yeah, yeah. You did good, Castle," Beckett said, suppressing a grin.
"Why Detective, was that a compliment I heard?"
"Don't get used to it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Castle laughed, following her out of the elevator.
To Be Continued…
Author's Note: So I thought I'd try my hand at a casefic. As you may have noticed, I'm taking some liberties with historical fact. None of this is meant to be taken as truth. Also my French is extremely rusty and my French grammar is terrible so I apologize for any errors made. Other than that, I hope I've peaked your interest and I'll get cracking on the next chapter. Like it? Love it? Loathe it? Let me know!