Reason: Chapter 12
As Beckett walked back into the bullpen, it grew silent. With a neutral face, Beckett made her way over to the murder board. Ryan and Esposito were there, glaring at those who were dumb enough to openly stare.
I followed Beckett's lead and ignored the gawkers but I couldn't help but to send a chilling glare at a uniform who was watching her with a mixture of surprise, awe and contempt. At least, that's how I interpreted it. He could have been yawning.
"Beckett," I began, "I've been thinking..."
She smirked at me. "Congratulations. You want a present?"
"If by present you mean-" I began in a low voice, "Ow! Leggo, leggo!" She had grabbed my nose in a death grip.
Ryan chuckled and Esposito just smirked. I brought my hands up to cover the hand that was currently squeezing the life out of my nose and pulled. It only increased my pain.
"Beckett," I whined as best as I could. She smiled in satisfaction and let go.
I rubbed my nose and glared at her. She shot me a coy look.
"As I was saying before you tried to remove my nose," I began, "We should check out Carlson's office."
She still looked amused and a little pleased with herself. She had pushed any other feelings into a little box and locked it tight.
"CSU already dug that place apart. There's nothing there," she told me, looking at me steadily, challenging me to come up with another idea.
I thought for a moment. Then an idea struck me. "What about Carlson's apartment?"
Beckett looked at me, silently telling me to continue. I did. "There was no reason to be overly thorough, he wasn't killed there."
Beckett's eyes showed she knew where I was going with this. "They could have missed something hidden."
As per usual, our brains were whizzing along the same track, using the others ideas as fuel.
"Like the treasure," we both said at the same time. I smiled at her and she cautiously smiled back.
"Let's go," she said.
"I just hope there isn't another surprise waiting there for us," I muttered while grabbing my jacket.
Oo..oO
It was obvious the man had no style.
He was clashing contemporary furniture with modern and a couple pieces that looked like they'd belonged to his great grandmother.
"You are so metrosexual," Beckett told me, shaking her head.
"Hey, at least I have taste," I said, pointing at a lamp shaped like a cat, "I mean, come on."
"It's pretty fashionable," she taunted.
"Yeah, if you're a crazy cat lady."
Beckett rolled her eyes and opened a drawer in Gary Carlson's desk. As she rummaged through it, I walked away from her and into Carlson's bedroom.
At least it was clean.
There was the same eclectic-ness in the decorations that seemed to be the binding feature around the house. I chose to assume Gary was going for randomness as a sort of statement.
I could hear Beckett opening and closing things, moving them, searching thoroughly. I decided to do the same.
There was a really cool pirate ship replica on Carlson's dresser. I walked over to it. Odd, it was sitting on an angle and was wobbling something fierce. I leaned in close to it. The model cannons were all pointed at me as I stared at the base of the ship. I was just reaching to move it when I was started by Beckett.
"Careful, Castle, those cannons may shootcha," she teased, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and one knee bent at an angle, her ankles crossing in, I must admit, a sexy manner.
I pulled my face back and stood up straight. "It's crooked," I told her, pointing. She removed herself from the wall and uncrossed her arms in one fluid motion. As she walked over to me, she tossed her hair over her shoulder.
Did she even know what she was doing?
Sexy, beautiful, alluring... all without trying.
She studied the ship carefully, a small crease appearing in between her eyebrows.
"Huh, you're right, Castle," she announced, leaning towards the ship. "There's something under it..."
Her voice trailed off as she reached out to move the model. I leaned in with her and, with baited breath, waited for her to reveal what was underneath.
She pulled on a latex glove and lifted the replica. My eyes immediately went to what was underneath.
An envelope.
I reached to grab it but Beckett stopped me. "Finger prints," she told me. "We don't know who left this."
"Gary, would be my guess," I told her, sulking slightly.
She picked up the envelope. It was upside down. Far too slowly for my tastes, she turned it over. There was a brief scrawl of writing on the front.
Detective Beckett and Writer Boy
My eyes narrowed and Beckett suppressed a laugh with a cough.
"Lanie totally left this," I muttered. Beckett chuckled and turned the envelope back over to open it. She pulled her pocket knife out and slashed open the letter smoothly. Carefully, she removed the paper inside.
Obviously, if you're reading this, I must be dead.
The guy lacked originality.
I lied before. I knew Albeni. He had applied for a job with me. I knew he needed cash. I did too. Gambling. So, I got him to steal something for me. We had a damn fine plan; his friend would distract, he would steal, the both of them would get outta there and give me the jewels. They'd get a cut, of course. But the friend backed out. I didn't want Albeni to go it alone and I sure as hell wasn't helping so I told him to wait. Kid wouldn't listen. He went ahead with it. So I got this thug, Cobb, to tell him to drop it. Well, to give him a note telling him to drop it. He didn't pay attention and grabbed the jewels anyway. He called me and told me to meet him in the park. I went there but didn't see him, just the bag of jewels and a hastily scribbled note telling me to hide them. I was going to ignore him but then I heard the gun shot.
I have never been so scared. I ran outta there and hid the loot. I didn't kill Albeni. But I think I may know who did.
My breath stopped at that last sentence and I continued reading.
Look into whoever owned those jewels we lifted. All the stuff in that museum was donated; they had to come from somewhere. Maybe Albeni screwed up and someone saw him. Maybe we just chose the wrong guy to steal from.
Either way, I know I'm dead. I have the jewels. I'm the only one who knows where they are and I sure as hell am not gunna tell. But I'll give you a clue. Better, actually. I made up a clue. Got two copies. One, I keep in my office. The second...in this envelope.
I hope you find my killer, Detective Beckett. I also hope you come to your senses and-
Beckett promptly shut the letter.
"Hey," I protested, reaching for it. "I wasn't done yet!"
Beckettt avoided eye contact with me. "Too bad."
I let out a frustrated breath. Come to your senses and what? I promptly forgot all about that when Beckett pulled a second piece of paper from the envelope.
In the city where I live,
There's those who do no longer.
In a place that's made of stone,
Named of potential counters,
Lies the thing you seek the most,
The treasure; yours to find.
"The man sucks at rhyme," I announced.
"Maybe it's contemporary," said Beckett, her eyes still scanning the paper.
"Either way," I told her. "It's atrocious."
Beckett tore her gaze away from the riddle to roll her eyes at me. She folded it up and stuck it back in the envelope, along with Gary's letter. The whole ensemble went into her pocket.
"Back to the precinct," she said and promptly turned and walked away, the scent of cherries lingering.
I allowed myself a moment to bask in the pure awesome of her exit.
"You coming?" Beckett called. Maybe it had been more than a moment.
"Yep!" I answered, dashing away from Gary's (is it weird I still call him Gary?) room and into the hallway where Beckett stood waiting.
"I know you like that cat lamp," Beckett began, a teasing tone in her voice. "But you can't just stare at it all day."
"You doubt my cat lamp staring abilities?" I asked her, raising one eyebrow.
"Yes," she told me bluntly. "Yes, I do."
"Well, the 'city I live in' has gotta be New York," Beckett pointed out.
We were sitting at her desk staring at the note. Our legs were pressed together and our shoulders rubbed as we both leaned in to examine it further. It was as if the closer we were to the note, the more sense it would make.
Exhaustion was making letters and clues swirl around in my head and I was on a serious coffee high. I could tell Beckett was feeling the same. We had Ryan and Esposito checking out who owned the stolen goods. Maybe Gary was on to something.
"'Those who do no longer' is probably dead people," I offered. She wrote it down on a piece of paper.
"Okay, so 'in a place that's made of stone' could be a church," she said, scribbling that down with a question mark next to 'New York' and 'dead people'.
"Cemetery would make more sense," I told her. "Look at the next bit." I put my finger next to the line I was talking about before continuing. "'Named of potential counters'. Could be marble," I said. "Like-"
She cut me off, eyes gleaming. "Headstones."
I nodded at her with a smile. Progress. She scratched out church and wrote in marble and cemeteries.
"The last bit is just about the treasure hunt," she muttered, almost to herself.
"So if we put together New York and cemetery, what do we get?"
"A list of cemeteries," she told me.
I shot her a look. She smiled.
"Marble is on a separate line and says 'named'," she offered.
"So... New York, cemetery and marble..." I murmured, turning it around in my brain.
"I'll put it in the computer," she said.
The results popped up almost instantly.
We looked at each other and smiled.
"Got it," we said in unison.
A/N: Yes, I am well aware that clue sucked and was easy as babies. It was the best my illness addled brain could come up with.
Reviews are love. They mean a lot to me.
In other news, I got Beckett heels for my halloween costume. I'm being Becektt, by the way. :) And my feet hurt so much... how does Stana do it?