"The precise casual connection between this tiny biological happenstance and a few other minor variations that exist in that slice of the Whole Sort of General Mish Mash- such as Tricia McMillan failing to leave with Zaphod Beeblebrox, abnormally low sales of pecan-flavored ice cream and the fact that the Earth on which all this occurred did not get demolished by the Vogons to make way for a new hyperspace bypass- is currently sitting at number 4,763,984,132 on the research project priority list at what was once the history department of the University of MaxiMegalon, and no one currently at the prayer meeting by the poolside appears to feel any sense of urgency about the problem." – Mostly Harmless, by Douglas Adams (evidently, the man responsible for most of my word count)

Kate didn't have to work hard to avoid drawing too many parallels between this and first time she'd interrogated Dick Coonan. For one thing, their last interrogation had not taken place over the glossy pink dinette that she apparently owned. Also, last time she hadn't been bent on lunging across the table and scratching his eyes out.

Castle kept a hand on her arm, noticing if not quite understanding the rage pulsing through her. He knew that if she attacked Coonan like she so clearly wanted to, she'd blow her cover both as a fake cop and as a person who seemed not to belong in this universe. Crazy as it seemed, he didn't want her taken as an insane person. He didn't want her taken away. Ever since their kiss last night, whatever that was, he felt reluctant to leave her side. A sense of protectiveness had come over him. It didn't make any sense; after all, she was the one with the gun.

"Mr. Coonan, do you have a job?" She tried to keep her voice from shaking. It hadn't occurred to her until this moment that she might be too upset to get through this without shooting Dick again.

"Yeah, I work at a shipping company," he said, sounding exasperated and tired of these questions. Castle guessed that it was an act- he had to know why they were questioning him. "Why are you doing this in here? On TV they always put people in those rooms with the tables and fake mirrors."

"On TV," Beckett repeated scathingly. "You think I don't know this isn't your first police interrogation?"

"Double negative," Castle muttered to her. She kicked him under the table.

"Listen, Dick," she said, leaning forward, "you can't hide what you've done- everything you've done. We're having CSUs search your apartment and if they find anything suspicious- like say, the remnants of a nosebleed…" She let that hang in the air, sure he'd gotten prison threats before.

Castle stared at her. Bluff after bluff. No matter what she said about alternate universes, he knew she was an actress, and a talented one at that. Dick flicked his eyes up at her, and Castle was reminded of a snake, calculating carefully before he unwound his coils and struck.

And then the "snake" collapsed into a desperate pile of anxious sweat, shakes, and what looked like terrified tears. "I didn't do anything, I swear! I don't want to go to jail, don't send me there. I'm just a shipping guy, really! Please!" He leaned forward pleadingly, nervousness in every arch of his body. It definitely wasn't an act. If anything, the cool calmness he had demonstrated before was just a cover to hide this mess of a man.

"Um…" Kate looked a little stunned and confused. She glanced at Castle as if he would have some useful insight, but he just shrugged. Evidently, he was just as shocked to see Coonan break down like that.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Damn it," said Beckett a few minutes later, after they had released Dick Coonan (who'd looked about to wet himself). She pulled two bottles of Diet Coke out of the refrigerator and passed one to Castle. "I hate parallel universes."

"At least you didn't have to shoot him," said Castle.

"Did you see the guy?" she said, sitting across from Castle at the dinette. "If my hand went anywhere near my gun he would've melted into a puddle on the floor." Castle took a swig of the soda and made a face.

"You got anything besides Diet Coke?"

"Nope," she sighed, taking a sip and making a face as well. "Apparently Actress Kate is just a richer version of Rachel Greene from Friends. It's bugging the hell out of me."

She drummed her fingers on the table, clearly anxious to get the killer. The Coonan incident had seriously dispirited her. If he was just a nerve-wracked wimp, then what else could she be missing? Maybe the laws of physics worked differently here. Maybe murder was committed for entirely different reasons. In a world where Dick Coonan was a sweaty mess under pressure, then for all she knew overalls were runway material and Jersey Shore was an insightful documentary.

"We're back to square one," Beckett sighed. "I was so sure it was Dick Coonan. Fit his MO perfectly."

"Well, use that," urged Castle. "Think. Who else might have his exact knife and way of killing? It's got to be someone connected to him." She frowned and sunk down to the table on her elbows, rocking back and forth on her heels, at eye level with the lip of her Diet Coke bottle.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm beginning to think I'm of no use here. I don't understand anything. I'm like an alien."

"Too bad you can't phone home," he quipped, evoking a small smile from her.

"Thanks a lot," she replied, "now you've got me craving Reese's Piece… Jack!" She jumped up, seeming to realize something. Castle stared at her, confused.

"Reese's what?"

"Jack Coonan!" she exclaimed. "Dick's brother! He was tipping off the FBI so Dick killed him. Back 'home', I mean. But he's probably alive here, and I think what happened was the two of them have reversed roles. Which means the killer isn't Dick Coonan, it's Jack Coonan!" Rick watched her with some fascination as she worked through the pieces, sliding them into place. Regardless of her logic, the definitive and confident way with which she announced her insight seemed to assure the fact that she was right.

"Wait," he said, remembering something, "even if it is Jack Coonan, he's still just a hired killer."

"Right," she said. "So what we need to do now if figure out motive." Her eyes flicked up to him. "Okay, you're always listing these off. What are the three biggest motives for murder?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Oh, come on, you've got to know!" said Beckett. "Don't you watch CSI?"

"What's CSI?"

"I hate parallel universes!"

Less than half an hour later, the two of them had returned to Castle's loft. Beckett pulled out the murder board from where she had parked it against the wall and uncapped a red Expo marker. "Okay, three biggest reasons," said Detective Beckett. She drew a heart, a dollar sign, and the word "CRIME" on the side of the whiteboard. "Love, money, and to cover up a crime."

Castle came to stand beside her as he perused to board. "Love," explained Beckett, gesturing to the heart, "that would be me, and we already know I didn't do it." She drew a line through the heart, reminding Castle of the popular doodle of an arrow through a heart. "Money- well, he wasn't robbed, and all of his money goes to charity after he died." She drew a line through the dollar sign. "I can't really see a group of orphans hiring Jack Coonan."

"Which leaves covering up a crime," said Castle, in an attempt to sound like he knew what he was doing. They sat there in silence for a second, thinking, before turning to each other at the exact same moment and saying, "I know who the killer is!"