I have always wanted to write Castle's memoirs based on episodes from the show. This is the result. When I started the first chapter I found myself unable to stop. I had planned something in the region of around 5000 words. Much to my surprise it ended up being over three times that. So rather than inflicting the entire chapter in one go, I will break it into three or four parts. Also this is going to be on going but the case files will appear from time to time, whenever the mood strikes me. All the same I hope you like it.

The Castle Case Files

by Minstrel164

Chapter 1 :

The Case of Flowers For Your Grave.

Part 1

It's funny how the Universe can throw you a curve ball right when you least expect it.

There I was at the height of my fame and fortune, could not want for anything...ready to begin the next installment that was the Derrick Storm story when I found I couldn't. I would sit and stare at the laptop hypnotised by the flashing cursor on the blank page.

I always had a sense of excitement when I started writing a new story. A sense of wonderment of where Derrick would take me on this new journey we were about to start. We had taken so many wonderful adventures Derrick and I.

Nothing.

I found myself standing at the start line. It was not as if I did not know what I was going to write. I had been planning and fleshing out the story idea months in advance. Had done the research and had it all at my finger tips ready to consult when the need arose.

Nothing.

My brain was willing but it seemed that my fingers refused to obey the commands they were being sent. I sat and stared at the blank word document. It did not help the creative process having constant threats of bodily harm from ex-wife number two and publisher to provide chapters for her to peruse.

Through sheer force of will, and may I say no little amount of talent I eventually began writing the story that would become the last Derrick Storm novel. I felt that I was going through the motions to be honest but I managed to churn out a novel that was acceptable to my publisher and more importantly my fans.

Looking back on it now I was pleased that I had the talent to be able to write a book that I did not have my heart in. I will be the first to say that it was not one of my best efforts. The only thing memorable about the book was that I killed off Derrick.

Yeah I had committed murder. A real messy one at that. I'm sure there are shrinks out there that would have a field day trying to analyse that. The truth be told I had grown bored with Derrick. He used to be fun. There was a sense of excitement, never knowing where he would take me. Writing Derrick had never been like work, it had been fun and I am a person who likes fun. The previous book had been an indication. I knew what was going to happen in every single scene. Sad to say Derrick had become predictable. There were no more surprises.

While my publisher did what publishers do when they prepare a new book for publication I sat around at the loft trying to find things to break the boredom.

To get ex-wife number two off my back I had told her about a new book I was writing. I spun her some tale of murder and mayhem and of adventure and romance that she bought hook, line and sinker. So much so that she gave me an obscenely large advance. I seem to recall having to sign a new book contract somewhere in there as well.

But I was not writing a new book. I had nothing to write. I was bored. Most nights I would be trying to get rid of the boredom by being seen out on the town with some starlet hanging off my arm attending some play or upmarket restaurant and getting my face on page six of The Ledger. In other words maintaining the playboy reputation that Paula my agent had carefully crafted.

During the days I would get up late, going nowhere near my laptop other than to download some porn or some such thing. In the afternoons I'd be sitting around in a t-shirt and boxers waiting for post time at Belmont. I have to say that I won a bit of money and lost a bit of money betting on the ponies but on the whole I came away with a bit of profit. Even that quickly lost it's excitement.

Thankfully there was Alexis to keep me a little focused. My life might have been in a bit of a mess but it was secondary to Alexis' needs. She came first and for her I did make the effort.

Amongst all of that mother moved into the loft. Her latest marriage had hit an iceberg of Titanic proportions. Her husband had absconded with all her money leaving her homeless and penniless. I played the dutiful son, offering her a place to stay at the loft, rent free I might add. I could have done no less. Mother accepted and moved in with alacrity.

I had been all eager to have mother's estranged husband hunted down to recover the money he had stolen and have him punished for having left her. After all I knew a guy who owed me a favour. Thankfully before that idea really took hold, mother managed to dissuade me from that course of action.

Despite mother's diva turns and active social life that I did not want to know about, I was grateful that she had moved in. She was always the first person I turned to when I had troubles raising Alexis. Martha Rogers may not have been the most conventional of mothers but all things considered I did not turn out too bad. Her sage advice was welcome and more often than not, spot on.

The night of the Storm Fall book launch arrived. I was not looking forward to it. I hated the thought of facing all these invited guests, A Listers, B Listers and C Listers not to mention the wannabes most whom did not really care about what I wrote and all they cared about was being seen and hoping to have their pictures in the weekly celebrity magazines. With some I could not help but wonder if they had ever read a book.

I also hated the prospect of having to face reporters and the one question that all of them would be asking me. Why did I kill off Derrick Storm? I could not come out and say that the guy bored me, now could I? With Paula's help I came up with something about the time had come to move on, to start new projects. Something like that. At least that would be the line I would be trotting out when they bombarded me with the inevitable question.

And into the maelstrom I plunged sunglasses, and fashionably unshaved playing the badboy to the hilt, signing books and female chests to my heart's content. I shmoozed with the best of them, made a little speech thanking everyone for showing up to this little soiree and hoping that they bought the book. Fat chance of that happening as most of them would be picking up one of the many free copies that were prominently displayed on tables around the club. I doubt many of them would even bother to read the book.

Ex-wife number two was still not happy with me for having killed off Derrick Storm berating me once again about it. You would think that she would accept it and move on. But oh no, like a dog with a bone she would not let go. Why couldn't I just have retired him, or maimed him or something? She asked. I countered that Derrick was not the golden goose, I was. That was when she brought up my current writer's block. She mentioned something that only those living with me knew, about sitting around in my t-shirt and boxers. I knew exactly who her source was and I was not pleased. I assured her that I was all ready working on the next best seller. Gina was a little dubious but before she moved off to meet and greet some high profile personage in the publishing world who had been invited to the book launch she did make the threat of demanding the return of the advance Black Pawn had given me.

I told her that I had all ready returned it to her in the form of alimony after our divorce. I thought that was a pretty witty remark. Gina made no further comment but gave me the evil eye before walking off.

I went to find Alexis and mother. I found them at the bar. Alexis, bless her had her head buried in a couple of school text books more interested in school than having a good time at this book launch party. It is moments like this that I sometimes wonder if she really is my child.

Mother was impervious to my admonishment of her letting slip to ex-wife number two that I was having trouble with the next book. I reminded her that I was allowing her live at the loft as long as she did not talk about what happened there. It was like water off a duck's back to her. She flittered off in search of an unattached male companion to have fun with.

Left with Alexis I tried to convince her to have some fun while she was here but my darling daughter was more concerned about the exam she was studying for. However we got to talking as we usually did.

XXX

As the Storm Fall book launch party gathered steam, in another part of town a team of homicide detectives and crime scene investigators were investigating the murder of a young social worker. The lead detective examined the scene and immediately recalled to mind that she had seen this scenario once before. It immediately set a chain of events unfolding that would change my life and hers forever.

XXX

There I was at the bar with Alexis trying to explain why I had decided to kill off Derrick Storm. I was lamenting that there were no more surprises left. I had was bored with all the same old, same old questions. Just once I wished someone would come up to me and say something new.

It was in that moment that the planets had all aligned, that the universe took pity on me and my lamentations, that Fate decided to take a hand.

"Mr Castle?" Came a female voice behind me.

I whipped about pulling out a pen, fixing a smile to my face.

"Where would you like?" I said automatically, thinking another fan had come up asking for an autograph. I stopped short.

"Detective Kate Beckett NYPD. We need to ask you about a murder that took place earlier tonight."

I was confronted with a vision of loveliness. I was stunned by this woman standing before me holding up her detective's badge. In all honesty it was not often that I was left speechless by a woman but Kate Beckett had succeeded.

"That's new." Alexis quipped, breaking the spell that had been cast over me.

Recovering my wits I informed Detective Beckett that I was more than happy to assist one of New York's finest in her investigation. Ex-wife number two was less than pleased having her star writer hauled away by the police. She tried to prevent it but Detective Beckett was insistent and to be quite honest I wanted to get the hell out of there. I made sure that mother took Alexis home before turning my full attention to the delightful Detective Beckett and telling I was all hers to do as she pleased. I may have added one of my patented leers when I said that.

I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to ride to the precinct with Detective Beckett. Instead I was deposited in the back of a marked police cruiser. Nothing new there.

At the precinct I was put into one of the interrogation rooms and left to my own devices for a little while. That was okay. This was not the first time I had seen the inside of a police interrogation room. I waited and waited, and then finally, the delightful Detective Beckett made her appearance.

She strolled into the room as if she owned the place. She brought with her several files one of which was rather thick looking. No guesses as to whose name was on that particular file.

"You've got quite the rap sheet for a best selling author." Detective Beckett announced as a way of starting the ball rolling in this interview. "Disorderly conduct, resisting arrest."

"Boys will be boys." I brushed off with a suitably feigned guilty look.

Detective Beckett did not seem impressed and consulted my file.

"Says here you stole a police horse?"

"Borrowed." I corrected.

"Ah. And you were nude at the time?"

"It was spring." I said as if that explained everything.

I have only vague recollections of that particular episode but I strongly suspect a lot of alcohol may have been involved at the time. Detective Beckett was not very impressed. She glared at me.

"And every time the charges were dropped."

What could I say, the mayor of this great city of New York is a fan. When I managed to get myself into trouble with the police a quick phone call to him and the charges were made to go away. It does have its benefits having friends in high places.

To assuage her look of disapproval I did offer Detective Beckett to let her spank me. That earned me a glare and she swatted me down by telling me that this bad boy image that I had going might work with bimbettes and celebutants but as for her she worked for a living so that made me one of two people in her world. Either the guy who made her life easier or the guy who made her life harder. I had to trust her when she said I didn't want to be the guy who made her life harder.

I had put on my best bad boy impersonation as I sat there in the interrogation room but it made no impression on her. Seeing Detective Beckett up close certainly made an impression on me. I saw a glimpse of what she might be like during an interrogation. Certainly I did not want to be on the receiving end of one of those kinds of interviews. Having smacked me down I managed to squeak out a noise of understanding.

Detective Beckett showed me a photograph of Alison Tisdale and in that moment I was drawn into the case. Alison was a pretty girl. To Detective Beckett's disappointment I told her that I did not know her, could not recall having met her at a book signing or charity event and certainly she was not a name in my little black book.

Another photograph was passed over. Marvin Fisk, a small claims lawyer. I made a quip about most of my claims tending to be on the large side. This little quip made Detective Beckett roll her eyes at me. I found that action rather cute. Again I told her that I did not know the man. Curious, I asked her what all this had to do with me.

Detective Beckett then revealed that Marvin Fisk had been found murdered in his office two weeks previously and that she did not put it together until the Alison Tisdale crime scene tonight. She produced a photo of the Tisdale crime scene and slid it across to me. I studied the crime scene and saw that the body had been covered in rose petals and sunflowers covered her eyes.

"Flowers For Your Grave." I murmured.

Detective Beckett then produced a photo of the Fisk crime scene and showed it to me.

"And this is how we found Marvin Fisk." Detective Beckett said. "Right out of Hell Hath No
Fury."

"Looks like I have a fan." I said, studying both photographs.

"Yeah. A really deranged fan."

I looked over the photographs I had been studying and offered a small smile across the table.

"Oh, you don't look deranged to me." I said.

It was the first time I saw the delightful Detective Beckett looking a little flustered. I found it amusing. I pressed on.

"Hell Hath No Fury?" I said. "Angry wiccans out for blood? C'mon. Only hardcore Castle groupies read that one."

Hell Hath No Fury is not one of my best efforts. On a list of all the books I have written this particular volume would be found somewhere down near the bottom of the list, if not right at the bottom. It had been written during a bad period in my personal life. I would not call it a mistake, having written it, but I'm not particularly proud of it. Still, I did learn something having written it.

Also I had just discovered that the delightful Detective Beckett read my books. All my books from the looks of it. The good and the bad. Interesting.

There was an adorable blush of pink dusting the delightful Detective Beckett's cheeks as she tried to regain control of the interview.

"Do any of these groupies ever write you letters? Disturbing letters?" She managed to stammer out.

I was amused by the turn of events. I told her that all my fan mail was disturbing. An occupational hazard I added.

"Because sometimes, in cases like this, we find the killer attempts to..."

"The Killer attempts to contact the subject of his obsession." I interrupted her, "I'm also pretty well versed in psychopathic methodologies." I grinned then added. "And you know you have gorgeous eyes?"

She did. She truly did. It was those hazel eyes that had arrested me back at the book launch party. Not the NYPD badge. I could so easily lose myself in them. They sparkled with intelligence with the suggestion of mischief dancing there in the background and a hint of sadness. I could write a whole book about Detective Beckett's gorgeous eyes. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little but not much.

It took the delightful Detective Beckett a moment to recover her composure following my confession. The colouring on her cheeks had darkened that little bit more which I found pleasing. I was definitely intrigued by this woman and what her story was.

"So, I take it you would have no objection to us going through your mail?" Detective Beckett asked.

I told her to knock herself out. My attention was drawn back to the crime scene photos. I asked her if I could get copies. Detective Beckett was surprised by the unusual request. I informed her that I had this poker game, my writer buddies, Patterson, Cannell, best sellers, and she had no idea how jealous those guys be to learn that I had a copy cat. I wanted to make them turn green with envy. In my excitement I told her that having a copy cat was, in my world, the red badge of honour, the criminal Coopers Town.

My request for copies of the photographs earned me a glare. The look that I would come to know as the Beckett Death Glare. My request was shot down in flames.

"People are dead, Mr Castle." She reminded me tersely.

"I'm not asking for the bodies. Just the pictures." I said sheepishly.

"I think we're done here." Detective Beckett announced.

Detective Beckett made sure to gather up the photos from the table returning them to their file and then marched out of the interview room leaving me there on my own.

An amused smirk rose to form on my lips as I watched the departing figure of Detective Beckett. I was very impressed with Detective Beckett. Apart from that one moment when I struck too close to home which I regretted, she had managed to hold her own in the back and forth banter we exchanged. I think I did managed to get under her skin. I was curious to see how far I could push her given the chance.

XXX

It was way after midnight when I returned to hearth and home. In the cab ride home I had been thinking over the two murders that Detective Beckett had shown me. The thrill of having a copy cat killer had cooled considerably. Detective Beckett was right, people were dead. The one thought that had kept going through my mind was, why?

On entering the loft I was greeted by someone playing the grand piano and my mother belting out a song from Oklahoma, 'I Can't Say No' to be exact. Mother spotted my entrance and called out, telling me that she was showing Burt, obviously the piano player's name, how she did it at the Palace.

"Does he know it's your theme song?" I quipped in way of greeting.

Mother chuckled at the remark and waved me away. I continued on my way to the kitchen as Martha Rogers and Burt brought it on home. In the kitchen I found Alexis doing work. Finding my mother entertaining a gentleman caller is no surprise nor is finding my daughter sitting at the kitchen island doing homework.

As I greeted her with a kiss I told Alexis that she was missing the late show. Alexis replied that she had seen it in preview. She did not sound too impressed. I was also informed that Burt did magic. I expressed the hope that he disappeared by morning. I buried my head in the fridge and extracted a can of whipped cream and shot a goodly amount into my mouth. Nothing like a midnight snack.

Alexis it appears was not staying up late on a school night to supervise her grand mother but had been waiting up for me. I suppose it is not every day a daughter sees her father escorted out of an important function by the police.

At first I was not going to tell her about it but she then threatened to go onto the fan websites to find out. She was concerned, thinking that I was in trouble. I was able to reassure my daughter that despite my best efforts this time I was not in trouble. The police had called me in because they needed my help on a case.

I told her about the case about someone killing people the same way I killed them in my books. It was just senseless. Alexis put forward that murder usually is senseless. I begged to differ. Murder usually made a great deal of sense. Passion, greed, politics. What bothered me was the fact that the killer had chosen some of my lesser works to use for his copy cat killings. Why choose those books? That is what did not make sense to me.

Before I could ponder further on that question, Alexis took charge and sent me off to bed suggesting that I could figure it out in the morning. I had to agree that Alexis was right. There are times I am left wondering who is the adult and who is the child in this relationship. A few years ago if asked that question I would have easily answered that I am the adult and Alexis is the child. More and more these days it is the other way around.

So off to bed I went, to sleep perchance to dream. Dare I say that I hoped a certain New York Police detective would invade my dreams?

XXXXX

There is the end of part one. Your thoughts would truly be appreciated.

Con

P.S. For those waiting for the next installment of "Moments In Time" I will be posting the next chapter very soon.