A Different Shade of Pale

Chapter 25

Steam poured out of the shower enclosure as Castle and Kate stripped off their smoke and sweat infused garments and prepared to step in. Kate tentatively stuck two fingers under the spray, while Castle taped plastic over the bandage on her other arm. "Castle you know I like it hot, but that's a little warm even for me."

Castle reached for the taps to moderate the temperature. "Sorry, I thought it was a little chilly in here."

"You all right Babe?" she asked.

"Fine," Castle replied too quickly. "Just coming down from the adrenaline high. Long night's catching up to me."

Kate stared at him dubiously. "I think that may not be all that's catching up to you. You should call Morris."

"I will. After we catch the killer," Castle promised. "But look at you. That explosion really slammed you around in that tub. You've got enough blues for B. B. King."

"Etta James was a lot more my style, Castle, but I am a little stiff. You could wash my back."

"Anything to help my lady," Castle replied, reaching for a loofah. "I can wash your hair too, if you don't want to reach up that high. You've got little bits of ash."

"Sounds good." Kate closed her eyes and breathed in the scent as Castle squeezed her cherry shampoo into his palm and began to work it though the fire-kissed strands. "You know Babe, if you ever give up writing, you could get a job in a salon. You're good at that."

"Yeah well, years of practice with a pint-sized redhead. I remember when she saw some rocker on TV with blue and red streaks in her hair. Alexis thought she could do it with finger paint. The housekeeper threatened to quit when she saw the tub."

Kate laughed at the mental image. "I can imagine. I hadn't really thought about you having a housekeeper, Castle. I don't think I've ever seen her. I knew someone was cleaning up after you and I didn't think it was Martha."

Castle rolled his eyes at the thought. "No, Mother's inclinations don't lie in that direction. Alisha is only here two mornings a week. The rest of the time Alexis and I take care of it. Alexis makes a pretty tight bed. I instructed her well. We used to have inspections at boarding school."

Kate imagined Castle on his knees teaching a tiny Alexis to make hospital corners. The scene was charming, but also daunting. The occupants of the loft were a closely knit family unit. She wasn't sure where she'd fit in. "Castle, I'm beginning to wrinkle. I think we're done here."

"Well Mother is waiting to stuff us with Fratelli's finest," Castle responded.

By the time they made it back to the table for Martha's post midnight snack, Alexis had turned in. Despite an infusion of sugar and aromatic caffeine, Kate's head felt heavy on her neck. She could see Castle wasn't much better. "Ready to catch a nap, Castle?"

"Naps are good," Castle agreed. "Excuse us, Mother?"

Martha waved them away. "Go, go!"

Sinking into the welcoming softness of the mattress, Castle pulled Kate to him. "Welcome home," he murmured, closing his eyes.

Alexis had left for school and Martha for an audition before the call came. The same faux cop had been spotted at all the crime scenes. There were photos and screen captures. Castle felt a lot steadier with a few hours of sleep under his belt, and he and Beckett made their way to the Twelfth.

Beckett slammed the last of a pile of photos to the table in the war room. "Thirty photos of the guy and no clear picture of his face! We're no closer than we were."

"No, we just need to go at this from a different angle," Jordan counseled. "All the clues we were getting before were confusing because our killer was masquerading as Ben Conrad. But now we have to look at Conrad as the first victim."

"Yes!" Beckett exclaimed. "For the killer to pretend to be him, he needed to intersect with Conrad's life somehow. Here!" Beckett led the group back to the white board. "These are the pictures of Ben Conrad's apartment. See the poster? He was a Knicks fan. But what's missing from these pictures?"

"Taste?" Castle suggested.

"No, a television," Beckett pointed out. "How did he watch games? He didn't have a car. He must have walked to a sports bar in the neighborhood to watch the games."

"That's true," Ryan commented. "A Knicks fan has to share his pain."

"There's also no internet connection," Beckett continued, "but we know he was hunting for job. That's why he was short on money. He did have a laptop. He would have been sending out resumes, maybe from some local coffee shop with wi fi."

"I can generate a list," Avery said, heading back to the war room.

"Good," Beckett agreed. "Ryan, you and Espo check the coffee shops. Castle and I will take the bars."

Castle wiggled his eyebrows. "Ah, establishments where I have massive experience."

"I don't think I want to know," Kate teased.

Castle slogged through yet another barroom door. You know, pub crawls are supposed to greet you with a welcoming smile not, "No, we've never seen the guy before. Keep moving," Castle complained.

Beckett pointed to a banner hanging over the bar. "Cheer up Castle, I have a feeling this place is different."

"Home of New York's very own serial killer, Ben Conrad," Castle read. "That's different, if inaccurate."

Beckett approached the solidly muscled woman behind the bar and flashed her badge. "You really need to take that down. This is an ongoing investigation."

"Just trying to get an angle," the woman explained. "I own this place. You oughta know what it's like to be a woman in a man's business. You need every advantage you can get."

"Yeah," Beckett agreed, "and I need one now. Tell me about Ben Conrad."

"Weird guy," the bar owner opined. "Watched the games, but mostly talked about that little clump of fur he called a dog."

"Did he hang out with anyone?" Castle questioned.

The owner nodded her head. "Yeah, he took up with someone a couple of weeks ago. Looked kind of average, but another weirdo if you ask me. Birds of a feather. They mostly sat at that table over there."

"This other guy, did he use a credit card to pay his tab?" Castle asked hopefully.

"Nah, strictly cash. Not much bother except when he asked me to call him a cab."

Beckett leaned excitedly over the bar. "Do you remember when that was?"

The woman snorted in disgust. "Yeah, I remember exactly when it was. The Knicks were in overtime and I missed the end of the game because I was on hold. Then the jerk didn't even tip me."

"Cab's drop off point was Varrick and Downing, Beckett announced to the gathering in the war room, clenching her fists in frustration. There must be fifty thousand people living within walking distance of that corner. And the sketch from the description the bar owner gave us is so generic it could be anyone. We've still got nothing."

"No," Jordan disputed. "We know a lot more now. We know he's high I.Q., but constantly needs to validate it, so he's probably a member of Prometheus or Mensa."

Beckett shuffled uncomfortably. "What's the matter?" Castle whispered.

"I joined Mensa when I was fourteen," Beckett admitted. "It wasn't so much to prove I was smart, but for the boys. There was a male to female ratio of three to one. Then when I realized I had no trouble attracting male attention anyway, I dropped out."

"That's so funny," Castle commented, "I joined as a teenager too, but dropped out when I realized there weren't enough girls."

Jordan cleared her throat. "Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle, would you like to share with the class?"

"Please go on Agent Shaw," Beckett urged as heat infused her face.

"Now in addition to those memberships, this is a list of publications he would probably subscribe to." Jordan went on.

"Hey, I get half of those," Castle protested.

""And you kill people for a living, Mr. Castle - in your stories," Jordan returned. "Now all of these things are little pieces, but put enough of them together, and we may get lucky."

Avery programmed the computer to run correlations between Jordan's lists. "Seventeen hits," he reported.

"Cross reference against our criminal data base," Jordan ordered, "This guy must have been in trouble before. No one this crazy goes through life without some kind of run-in with the law."

"Negative," Avery reported. "Huh, wait. This guy, Chris Doherty, according to his Social Security Number he died six years ago."

Castle's face lit like Christmas tree. "He's living under a stolen identity! He's got to be our guy."

Avery worked at his keyboard. "Running facial recognition. Ninety-five percent match with a Scott Dunn, heavy juvie file, a person of interest in an unsolved murder and a conviction for arson where he seriously burned his hands."

"F**k," Beckett swore, "no wonder we never found any usable prints."

"Let's saddle up!" Jordan commanded.

"Beckett, what's that funny look?" Castle asked, as they headed for her vehicle.

"Castle, I was just wondering, given your profile and your obsession with death, if you'd ever given any thought to committing a murder outside the pages of your books."

Castle shook his head. "No I'll stick to paper, much more lucrative, much less prison time. Although the way this guy's come after you, I've given shooting him some serious consideration, preferably in the most painful places possible."

"Yeah," Beckett agreed, "so have I."