Chapter 29: These foreign chappies

Castle, coffee and bear claw arrive on Monday morning, and are dealt with in various appropriate ways – greeted, drunk and eaten respectively – until Beckett can relieve her frustration on the Stardance dresser. She's not going to warn Selwyn, either. DNA and money trails are still not finished, and she doesn't need to call him when she can't achieve anything else. Come half-past nine, when O'Leary's threatened to turn her upside down and dangle her out a window by her ankles if she asks him about DNA again, Esposito is actively hiding from her and Ryan is merely neatening up the loose ends and pestering CSU, who sound very likely to threaten him with the same window-dangling as promised to Beckett, she summons Castle and they leave.

It's the same receptionist as when Beckett had come in on Friday to model. She looks boredly at Beckett.

"You here again? Don't remember you being booked today. We don't do speculative show-ups."

Beckett smiles with a stiletto edge. "Glad you remember me," she says. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. Get Selwyn down here."

"Huh?" the receptionist emits, wide eyed.

"Selwyn. Now."

She squeaks and calls him. "Mr Selwyn, there's a Detective Beckett for you." Pause. "Okay." She looks at Beckett. "You're a cop? But you were modelling. Why'd you wanna be a cop if you could be a model?"

"Better pay and conditions," Beckett says flippantly, though there is an underlying edge. "And I get to take the shots."

That clearly doesn't compute with the receptionist, though Castle snickers. "But you could have been famous. Like Naomi Campbell or Kate Moss."

Fortunately Selwyn arrives, not quite at a dead run but giving out the impression that he might have been running.

"Detective Beckett?" he says. "Come this way." Beckett exchanges a quick glance with Castle reflecting considerable satisfaction that Selwyn is completely intimidated – and that he doesn't want to have this conversation in public. He'll want that even less in another moment. She smiles coldly, and they follow.

"I co-operated," Selwyn says plaintively. "What do you want now?"

"Who was the dresser on Friday?"

"Terry? Terry Caulston. Why?"

"Use him a lot, do you?"

"About a third of the shoots. Jose's my main man."

"Mm," Beckett hums judicially. Castle lurks in a corner and stays quiet.

"Why?"

Beckett switches tack. "When I first interviewed you, you implied that you ran a clean agency. No trouble on lingerie shoots, you said. You gave me the impression you didn't let your guys get close."

Selwyn's colour starts to drain. "I don't. They're all told. They all know not to."

"Caulston didn't get the memo," Beckett says, with an underlying edge of viciousness. "Never mind that we arrested Carter Connor on Friday for serial rape and murder" – he goes dead white – "it seems like you don't have any sort of grip on what your staff are doing. Where's Caulston?"

"Um… he's due in to dress a shoot for Sunsandseas – holidays."

"When?"

Selwyn frantically consults his watch. "Fifteen minutes," he stutters.

"Right. Better get Jose in, then. Caulston isn't going to be available." Selwyn simply gapes at her. "And make sure the receptionist doesn't mention us."

"But… but…."

"Caulston assaulted a police detective in the execution of her duties," Castle puts in helpfully from the corner. "Not very smart."

"But… But the shoot!"

"You'll find another dresser."

Selwyn whimpers, no doubt seeing income flowing out the door.

"We'll wait. You can find us a nice private room. Bring Caulston in as soon as he arrives. Don't tell him anything, or you'll be joining him in a cell charged with obstruction of justice."

Selwyn is satisfyingly terrified. He practically staggers out: Beckett having comprehensively cut the ground from under his feet. His lilywhite reputation is endangered, and both his photographer and one of his dressers are in deep, deep trouble. The door shuts very quietly behind him.

"He'd better not be long," Castle murmurs. "If he's late you'll only have to glare and he'll faint."

She bares her teeth. "He's going to get a really nasty surprise, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes," Castle hisses. "Oh, yes."

"Can you stand out of view of the door? I only want him to see me. He won't notice the shield and gun at first. He'll think I'm the woman I pretended to be – meek and mild: needing to please." Her lips snap together, thin-pinched.

"He's going to be wrong," Castle states flatly, and smiles as thinly-lipped as she. "But come here, before he arrives." She quirks an eyebrow, but complies. He slides careful arms around her, not asking how she slept – that's for later, when she's torn each of these slimeballs apart, and need not be borne on acid, chilling fury – but simply firm reassurance that he's there, support for her judicial vengeance.

It's not long before Caulston arrives. He bursts in, clearly unhappy with being told to come in here, rather than get started on the shoot. He stops cold on the doorframe, and then storms in and slams the door. He doesn't notice Castle at all.

"You! How dare you demand I come up here! You're just another dumb model, and you're holding up an important shoot. Well, I'll make sure you never get another booking here." He starts to turn.

"You assaulted me."

"Who's gonna believe that? I'm important. You're just a clothes horse."

"You're not denying it."

"Don't need to. No-one'll believe it." He turns again, and stops. "You might manage to get back in my good books, if you played along."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You liked it when I touched you. If you wanted to get some more…" he trails off insinuatingly.

"I should let you do it again so I get more work?"

"Get real, girl. You gotta give to get. Sure you should." He puts a hand on the door.

"Get back here," Beckett says, coldly and with absolute authority. He spins, shocked.

"How dare you use that tone to me? Don't you know I can break you?"

"I don't think so." Beckett stands, and lets her jacket fall open to show the shield and gun. "I'm not a model. I'm a cop. Friday was an undercover operation." Caulston's jaw goes unpleasantly slack. "You've just admitted assault and you've demanded sexual favours so I get modelling work." The temperature of the room has perceptibly dropped. "Terry Caulston, you are under arrest. Turn around. Hands behind your back." She cuffs him.

"You can't – you aren't – you" –

"You picked the wrong mark. Touching up a cop? It's not going to go down well in court. You'll go down well in jail, though, pretty boy like you. You'll make plenty of friends. They'll touch you."

"You bitch."

"That's Detective Bitch to you. You were happy enough to dish it out when you thought you had all the power, and now you don't like the thought of it when it's you on the other end?" She jerks him forward. "You know, I don't feel sorry about that for a single minute." She looks round. "Okay, Castle, let's take him in."


Caulston handed over to the custody sergeant and in Holding, Castle and Beckett return to the bullpen with Beckett, at least, in a much better mood. Arresting scumbags always improves her temper, and they've even managed a sandwich for lunch along the way.

Her temper is even more improved, to reach ferocious delight, when Avery presents Shaw and her with the money trail from one of Sevenelms's businesses straight to Connor's account.

"Took me a little longer because he routed it through a couple of jurisidictions," Avery says happily, "but it's solid. Now, it's from his company, so likely he'll try and claim someone else did it, but it's a dollar wire transfer and that means we could get the proof of authorisation." He smiles sharply. "Sevenelms authorised the transfer. He's going to have a hard time with that."

"Even better," rumbles the mobile mass of O'Leary, ambling up, "I got DNA results from San Francisco, and it shows both Connor and Sevenelms."

"Anything from yesterday?"

"Beckett, you know it takes more than twelve hours. They put a rush on it, but it ain't ready yet."

Beckett mutters and grumbles. Of course she knows. She just wants her results so she can tie up Sevenelms with a ribbon and bow.

"Even without yesterday's searches, I'd love to see how he's going to slither out of this one," Shaw says. "Good work." She looks at Beckett. "I guess you'd like to do the honours?"

Beckett smiles. Actually, she bares her teeth in something that isn't even a close cousin to a smile. "Oh, yes," she says. "Now?"

"Why not?"

Beckett is on the phone to the custody sergeant in an instant, directing that Sevenelms be brought up to Interrogation. While she's doing that, Shaw draws Castle aside.

"Will you be in there with her?"

"Yes," he says firmly, unwilling to give place to Shaw when there's blood in the water and the Beckett-shark is circling.

"Good. I'll be in Observation." She marches off. Castle watches her go, wondering about the slight constraint in Shaw's tone. He's distracted by Beckett's sharp summons.


Beckett, Castle and Shaw watch Sevenelms from Observation, giving him time to wonder what's awaiting him.

"When we arrested him," Shaw says, "his first tactic was to try and claim you took the drugs yourself and then that it was all a mistake and he'd have our badges. I guess intimidation isn't going to work on you, but that's where he'll begin."

"I don't intimidate easily."

Or at all, Castle thinks.

"He got a hell of a fright when I told him you weren't a drugged up model but an undercover cop and everything had been recorded."

Beckett considers that. "Good. He hasn't tried to claim immunity or any dumb trick like that?"

"Not yet. Hasn't asked for a lawyer either."

"It won't help him if he does. We've got so much we can send him away for life – or San Francisco can have him, too."

"Why do you want to interrogate him, then?"

Beckett pauses at Shaw's question, and then speaks. "Because I want to look him in the eye and see him know that I brought him down."

Shaw blinks, and shrugs. She obviously doesn't see any issue at all with that. "Okay. I'll stay here."

They look at Sevenelms. He's getting pretty antsy as his solitary time has stretched out.

"Let's go do this, Castle."


"Brian Sevenelms."

He doesn't even look up.

"You've been arrested for attempted rape and murder, and we have evidence linking you to at least eight other rape-murders," Beckett says conversationally. "Anything you'd like to say?"

He doesn't say anything, nor does he look up.

"Okay. We don't need you to say anything at all. Have a look at these instead." She pushes a set of photos across the table. "That's you. Looks as if you were enjoying yourself. These on their own'll put you away for life. I don't think the guys in Rikers have ever had a Brit before."

Still no reaction.

"Of course, we have to work out who's got jurisdiction." He looks up, a flash of emotion across his face. "Oh, no. That's between us and San Francisco."

"I'm a British citizen. You can't hold me."

"Wrong. We can. You committed a crime here. You're mine."

"You trapped me. It'll never stand up."

"Funny, your pal said that too. It will. We have all the recordings of the whole day. We have these photos."

"He faked them!"

"Really," Beckett says, boredly. "Is that the best you can do? I've got DNA evidence putting you at the scene in San Francisco, and I've got your prints on the needle you used on me on Friday, and the recording of me not consenting to any of it. And pretty soon I'll have evidence that" –

Esposito knocks, enters and beckons her out. Castle leaves too.

"Beckett, CSU sent over preliminary results. Sevenelms's prints are all over Connor's apartment."

"Perfect timing, Espo. Just when I needed it. Anything else?"

"Naw."

She goes back in. "As I was saying. Your prints are all over Connor's apartment. He rolled on you – told me everything to try and save his own skin. We've got you."

"It's all circumstantial."

"Don't give me that. I have direct evidence. I didn't even need to interview you, but I wanted you to know that I've got you wrapped up tight. Enjoy Rikers. Or Death Row in California. You and Connor can keep each other company."

"Death Row?" he cries. "You can't" –

"I won't. A judge and jury will. But I'm the one who'll have made sure that they do."

And on that cold, triumphant note, she leaves.


"Nicely done, Detective Beckett," Shaw says as she exits Observation.

"Thanks."

Castle makes straight for the break room, and only just resists actually towing Beckett with him, possibly because she's aiming for it too. He competently starts the machine, and is mildly unsurprised that Ryan, O'Leary and, more draggingly, Esposito, all arrive in short order. The break room is very crowded.

"Just loose ends to tidy up now," Ryan says. "That'll put the extra lock on their box."

"Yeah." Beckett is still running on the adrenaline of the morning. "I brought the dresser in, too."

"Dresser?"

"Yeah. Thought it was a perk of his job to assault the models."

Esposito's face turns black. "Yeah?" he grates. "Maybe I should have a chat."

"I don't think you need to help Beckett," Castle says. "He doesn't have any skin left from her little chat earlier, when she arrested him."

"Leave it, Espo," Beckett adds. "It's done."

"He shouldn't be" –

"And you shouldn't be interfering when I've dealt with it," she says very sharply. "We had this discussion."

Nobody admits to the whistled intake of breath that splits the tense atmosphere.

"I said that I was up for this to put these guys away. I said if I had to put up with pawing then you bunch were damn well to live with it – so do it. I don't want to hear any more about it. They're all in the cells. We got the job done. That's all that matters. Finished, done, over." She stops. "We're going to tie up the loose ends, and that's it."

"But" –

"No buts. It's just another case and we've closed it."

Castle watches O'Leary's bland, moon-sized face, and wonders what he's thinking, because Castle is not at all sure that it's what Beckett's thinking.

"Right. What do we need to finish up? Ryan, you start."


Beckett having settled herself back at her desk with Ryan in tow, O'Leary having lumbered back out of the break room to his desk in the expectation of being next for the tidy-up talk, Castle is left in the break room with Esposito and no coffee yet. On many levels, this is unpleasant. He can sense Esposito's darkling expression without turning round, and does precisely nothing to alleviate it, concentrating on making the perfect cup of coffee.

"I wanna talk to you," Espo growls.

"Do you? Why?"

There is a chilly silence as Esposito processes that Castle isn't in the mood to make anything easy for him. It stretches out as Castle drinks his coffee, not hurrying, and not talking. This departure from his usual cheerfully insane chatter does nothing for Esposito's tension.

"I… you gotta help me fix things with Beckett."

"Do I? Why?"

Another edged, nasty pause.

"'Cause the team ain't right."

"What's that got to do with me?"

Castle is going to force Esposito to admit that he, Castle, is as vital to the team as Espo or Ryan, and he doesn't much care how it gripes Esposito's guts along the way. He waits.

"I shouldn't'a got pissed with you for that whole loft business," Espo forces out, each word bitten off short. "It wasn't" – Castle hears all, but Espo doesn't say it – "your fault." He swallows down acid-bitter pride. "I was wrong 'bout you." Castle still says nothing. "I should'a kept out of it."

"Yeah," Castle says slowly, not giving an inch.

"It was up to Beckett." Espo's face twists. "She wants you on the team."

"So? If you can't stop bitching at me, it's still not going to work out. You want the team fixed, or not?"

"A'course I do."

"Then it's up to you. I never did anything to you, and you're blaming me for things that aren't yours to own." Castle downs the last of his drink.

"You were s'posed to fix it," Esposito jerks out. Castle stops his move to the door.

"Fix what?"

"Her mom's case."

"What?"

The Esposito dam breaks. "I got you in 'cause I thought you'd find answers, an' then you did but she didn't wanna know. I never expected that. I thought she'd be happy."

Castle sees far more, far faster, than Esposito appreciates. "So you blamed me for your fuck-up – and left me to take all the flak. Pretty low." Espo winces.

"So I told her I let you have the file. Saturday. An' she threw me out an' hasn't said a word to me since."

"Saturday. I see. Took you almost a year to 'fess up. Why now?" he says conversationally. It doesn't look like the gentle tone improves Espo's mood any. "Funny how it's happening when there's another cop around who works well with Beckett. Scared that the team's going to change?" He breathes, and calms his rage to cold. "Scared she'll ditch you instead of me?"

"No! She ain't going to bring O'Leary in."

"You don't sound sure about that."

"She won't," he insists.

"Won't what?" Ryan asks from the doorway, breaking the suffocating tension. Both men scowl at him. Ryan is undeterred. "You two need to sort your shit out before Beckett starts on you. She's almost done with O'Leary. I reckon you got about five minutes." He looks between them. "Espo, you gotta fix this fast. Castle hasn't done anything wrong that you got the right to be pissed about. Man up an' apologise." He exits, fast, leaving stunned astonishment behind him.

"What's that all about?" Castle asks, shocked out of his cold rage by Ryan's intervention. He didn't expect that. Maybe Ryan's finally come down on the right side. It gives him a good feeling.

"Ryan laid into me. An' that monster O'Leary." Espo mumbles. "Every fuckin' one of 'em's on your side an' you ain't even a cop. Beckett won't even look at me without scowling. All I wanted was to have her back like I always do and she ain't having any of it." He subsides into a black pit of embarrassment.

"Maybe you should stick to having her back on the job and leave her personal life alone. You're not her keeper." Castle doesn't mention that he'd heard Beckett tearing the boys apart for it. "Sounds to me like you're angry that you fucked up and you're taking it out on me. I don't think you're jealous" – Esposito makes a strangulated noise – "but you're sure behaving like you've got the right to be protective. I get where you're coming from – you think it was easy for me to stand by and watch her get mauled and shot up with heroin? – but she won't thank me for getting in her way and it sounds like she didn't thank you for it either." He shrugs. "You said you wanted to fix things, well, you got your chance now. I'm listening."

Esposito swallows hard. Admitting he'd been wrong isn't his favourite game.

"You're right. All of you. I was wrong an'… an' I'm sorry. You're as much the team as we are."

"Accepted," Castle says.

Esposito gapes. "That it? We're cool?"

"I don't hold grudges," Castle says, though it's not entirely true and apology or not it'll take him some time to be cool with Espo. "Like you said, the team needs to be tight. Yeah?"

"Yeah. All four of us."


Thank you to all readers and reviewers.