In Case of Emergency
Season 9, Episode 9
Written by Trinity Everett
This is a work of fiction by writers with no professional connection to ABC network's Castle. Recognizable characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
He freaking hated waking up at 4:15.
It was a necessary evil – 4:15 was the latest he could roll out of bed and be able to make it to the ferry and into the city in time for his 6:45 shift – but it still sucked. Hard.
It sucked even harder when the rain hadn't stopped in almost a day. The early December drizzle meant traffic was worse than normal, people were bitchier than normal, and he was going to be cramming into a packed subway car with the damp masses.
Sure enough, he ended up standing between two men in dark baseball jackets who seemed to be having a competition over who could find the perfect blend of stale body odor, pine deodorant, and the sharp scent of wet dog. So far, it was a tie; no winners, only losers.
To make it worse, when he emerged from Grand Central Station – later than normal, of course – he was greeted with a gust of wind, the pelt of sleet, and a small tidal wave of rain water, engine oil, and god only knew what else courtesy of a passing city bus.
He sighed, ignoring the stares coming from the growing line of caffeine addicts waiting for their morning fix at Starbucks and swiping his hands over the legs of his uniform pants. Soaked and dirty, and he hadn't even made it to work yet. Yeah, it was going to be a great day.
Then again, it wasn't all bad. Rainy days meant more people wanted to just get inside, which meant more people shoving their bags at him to load onto a cart and push to their room, which meant larger and more frequent tips.
And that meant he could party this weekend.
Halle-freaking-lujah. It had been too damn long since he had enjoyed a drink and an evening at the hookah bar.
Yeah, that would make getting drenched and ruining yet another pair of work shoes somewhat worthwhile. Besides, if he was lucky, he would be able to duck into uniform storage and grab a pair of pants in his size. They weren't supposed to do that, but he could wash them over the weekend and return them and nobody would be the wiser.
Fifteen minutes later, he finally rounded the corner to the service entrance of the Waldorf Astoria. His hand disappeared into his pocket, searching for the keycard that would open the door and get him out of the blowing rain, only to have the plastic slip from his fumbling, frigid fingers and clatter to the ground.
Muttering, he sank to his knees, searching for the damn thing in the hazy pre-dawn light. Thankfully, it hadn't tumbled far, just a few feet beside the door, though that meant digging at the base of a few trash cans the night shift hadn't bothered to put away to peel the card from the wet ground. It didn't budge, forcing him to dig his nails into the pavement to release the suction.
"Finally," he grumbled, getting to his feet and stepping to the door. "Now I can get i–"
He blinked, wondering if the early hour was playing tricks on him. No, what he was seeing was real, very real. Red streaked down the keycard, staining his nails, his hand.
"What the hell?"
Was that blood?
His eyes shot back to the row of garbage bins, searching for the source. Maybe it was kitchen waste, the remnants of the steaks the cook had insisted on bringing in for their "most dignified" (richest) guests leaking out of a bag that hadn't been sealed properly. Maybe it was–
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. It wasn't the steaks. It wasn't the steaks at all. That was a boot. A work boot, heavy duty, well-worn.
And attached to a leg.
"Oh shi–"
"Babe, you should be asleep," Kate Beckett chided, burying her face in her husband's pillow. After two weeks it was beginning to lose the scent of his aftershave, but she used her imagination when she held her cell phone to her ear in the gray light of early morning, picturing him beside her. "You're going to be exhausted."
Castle's denial rattled through the speaker. "I'm okay. I wanted to catch you before you left for work, see how your night was."
Her lips lifted. Every morning when he called, he said the same thing: he just wanted to catch her before work. "We're fine."
"I didn't ask."
"Mhmm. I talked to you before I fell asleep, remember? You know how my night was."
"Yeah, but after that." She could hear him fidgeting and pictured him mirroring her actions, rolling onto his side and curling around what would be her pillow. "How'd you sleep? How are you feeling?"
"I feel great, Rick. Up and down to pee like usual, but otherwise fine. Not even indigestion from last night's dinner."
"After my mother cooked?" he asked, feigning incredulity. "That's not just fine, that's a miracle."
"Hush. And I cooked," Kate added, grinning into the pillow at his guffaw. Hearing him happy and relaxed warmed her in ways the heavy down comforter couldn't. The only thing that would make it better would be to have him actually beside her, have his chest lifting and jostling under her ear as he laughed.
He would be home soon, but it wasn't soon enough.
"Well, that's good. Hopefully little one won't object to what I'm bringing home, either."
"Wait, what are you bringing home?" she asked, running a hand over her belly, testing out its still unfamiliar roundness, slight as it was. Her husband hummed in reply, noncommittal, forcing her to prompt him again, "Castle? What are you bringing home?"
Even over the phone, his chuckle was disarming. And a little bit annoying. "Do you remember that little bakery we found on our skiing trip?"
"The one with the muffins?" she asked, feeling her mouth water a little at the reminder. That place had been perfect, so delicious, and had Rick not broken his knee and forced her attention elsewhere, they would've gone back half a dozen times.
"Uh huh. And the danishes."
She groaned, covering her mouth in a failed attempt to disguise the sound. "Don't remind me of those unless you're going to tell me you're bringing me a dozen – no, a case."
Even through the phone, she felt him grinning. "Well, since you're asking nicely…" Self-satisfaction dripped from every word. "They'll be the perfect snack before our appointment on Tuesday. I found the sister store when I was wandering around the other day, and they taste exactly the same."
"That's true," she agreed, swallowing the ping of uneasiness over the upcoming ultrasound and testing they were having done. "Get some of the blueberry. Oh, and the raspberry, too."
"And a couple of the chocolate chip," he added.
Kate wrinkled her nose, but didn't argue. He was bringing her some of the most mouthwatering pastries she had eaten on this side of the Atlantic Ocean; beggars wouldn't be choosers.
"Did I mention I love you," she said instead, dropping her hand to her stomach again. Hunger tugged at her insides, growing more insistent with each passing second. "And that I wish you were here now?"
"Me? Or the muffins and danishes?" Castle teased. "And actually you didn't, so–"
"Yeah, yeah. So what are you going to do until the bakery opens? And don't say they'll make an exception for you and open early, because nobody is a big enough fan to open up their store for you at 5-something in the morning."
He hummed. "I thought I would get some coffee and do some writing, but if you don't have anywhere to be, maybe we could turn this phone call into a video call? See a bit more of each other?"
Her chuckle slipped out without permission. "See a bit more of each other, hmm? As in..."
"Uh huh. If you're game, of course."
It had been two weeks since she had seen and touched her husband last. She was game, very game. And she told him so.
"Okay, so I'll hang up and call you right back?" he asked, just as eager to see her face (and maybe more than that) as she was to see his.
"Yeah. I'll be here."
Retreating back onto her own side of the bed, Kate propped her phone against his pillow and waited. Attempting to minimize the distance between them by pretending he was right next to her wasn't the same, but it worked in a pinch.
A moment later, he called back, smiling at her through the front camera on his phone. "That's better. Though I think you're a little bit overdressed for this kind of conversation."
In his t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, she really wasn't, but her lips curved upwards. "You expected me to answer topless?"
Her husband lifted a shoulder, his smile a little sleep-silly. "Well, I wouldn't have said no."
"That's a little wham, bam, thank you, don't you think? Not very smooth of you, Mr. Castle."
"Just trying to make the most of our time before you–" His voice sputtered as a text notification appeared at the top of her screen. Kate frowned, touching her fingers to her husband's face before opening the message. "–get a call."
"Got a body they want me to see," she murmured, tapping out a reply before returning to the call. "Sorry, Rick. Video call sex another time."
"Damn." Castle shook his head, looking forlorn for a split second before brightening. "Oh! You know what we could do?"
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Beckett muttered, stepping out of the car and cradling her phone.
Castle's eager grin reflected back at her. The entire drive over he had patted himself on the back for his ingenuity and resourcefulness while she had rolled her eyes.
"I'm consulting, Beckett. Isn't this what a good civilian investigator does?"
Her frown softened. He still hadn't heard back about the civilian investigator position she had come across a few months ago, and while they both knew he didn't need an official title to be at the precinct with her, she knew he hated not knowing whether he had the job or not.
"It is, Rick. It's still weird to be carrying your face up to a crime scene, but it is."
"I think it's innovative," he said, falling silent as she greeted the uniformed officers guarding the edge of the crime scene. Donaldson and Rodriguez looked amused, but otherwise didn't comment on her partner's unorthodox method of tagging along today.
Turning the phone for Castle's benefit, she took a moment to survey the alley. All things considered, it seemed normal. Garbage piles at various points along the stretch, cramped loading bays intended for deliveries, back doors for employees to come and go. So unless their killer had a key, there was only one way they could've come and gone.
She walked the rest of the scene in silence, noting a few stains she was sure had nothing to do with the murder and a few deep red ones she was sure had everything to do with the person her team huddled around.
"Morning, guys," she called, giving the man slumped against the far wall with Officer Julian a careful look. His hair fell damp over his forehead, and the Waldorf Astoria uniform he wore looked like it had seen better days. If the green tinge to his cheeks was any indication, he had been the one to find the body. "What've you got for me?"
Ryan and Esposito straightened, doing their best to make their expressions bland when they saw her phone. Okay, it was a little funny.
"Morning Captain, Castle."
"Morning Ryan, 'Sito," Castle greeted, jovial as ever. "Looks a little wet out there."
Espo shifted, shaking raindrops from his jacket. "Yeah, that's it, be smug. You're in a cushy hotel while we're out here in the nasty weather."
"Wow. I was just saying hi. I'll just talk to Ryan from now on."
"Why don't we talk about our victim instead?" Beckett jumped in, lifting her eyebrows in Esposito's direction before returning her attention to the dead man and the ME kneeling beside him. "What do you have for me, Lanie?"
Her friend's head lifted, but instead of the usual determined clarity in her eyes, Kate saw unrest.
"Everything okay?" she asked, unable to stop the question from spilling out of her mouth.
If she were anyone else, she might not have noticed Lanie's hesitation, but the woman was her best friend; she could tell something was up.
But whatever it was, Lanie shook it off, returning her attention to the victim.
"Yeah, yeah, of course. According to the ID we found in his pocket, this is Mr. Aram Zabel. Thirty-eight, resident of Queens, single GSW to the chest. Blood spatter and exit wound indicates a close range shot." Lanie waited for her to squat before rolling the body onto its side, circling her finger around the carnage the bullet had left behind.
Over the phone, Castle made a noise, but refrained from any flippant remarks. Not that she expected any from him; GSWs hit close to home for both of them these days.
"So he was killed here in the alley?" Kate asked, clearing her throat. Getting to her feet didn't come quite as gracefully as it used to, but no one commented when Lanie's gloved hand steadied her ascent.
"The rain has made it a little more difficult, but there's spatter on the wall and on the trash bags, so I feel comfortable saying yes."
"Time of death?"
"Preliminary estimate? Between 10 P.M. and 2 A.M., but I'll know more when I get him on my table."
Beckett nodded, seeing Castle do the same out of the corner of her eye. Huh, it did feel a little like normal, minus his physical presence, of course.
"Thanks, Lanie. I'll let you finish up here."
The ME nodded, making a note on her clipboard and gesturing for two of her assistants to step forward.
Kate turned to her detectives. "What about the murder weapon?"
Ryan lifted an evidence bag. "Found it in the garbage bags by the body. Looks like the killer dropped it and ran after they shot him."
"Get it–"
"To the lab for ballistics, and check for ownership," Ryan finished for her. "On it, boss."
She nodded, glancing at her phone to see if Castle had anything to add.
Her partner cleared his throat, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he jerked his head in the general direction of the doorway. "What about him?"
This time, Esposito took the lead, consulting his notepad. "Leo Kinsler, thirty-two. He's a bellboy at the hotel. He found Zabel on his way into work this morning."
"How does he know the victim? Do they work together?" Beckett asked, ignoring the ridiculous faces her husband made as she swiped raindrops from her phone screen.
Both detectives shook their heads. "Said he'd never seen him before in his life."
"Check on that, will you? See if there's anything else he remembers from this morning before you let him go. And get Vikram to see if we can pull camera footage for this entrance. I want to know if our victim was here by choice or not."
"You got it."
Nodding, she glanced at her phone again. Castle looked to be listening, but didn't seem ready to offer his thoughts. "I'm going back to the precinct to contact Mr. Zabel's next of kin."
The boys agreed, snickering when Rick waved goodbye as she stepped away from the crime scene.
