Very Castle Celebrations
Chapter 20
Iron gray hair and heavy dark eyebrows lend a fierceness to Zev Greenspan's deeply lined face. Kate has agreed to stay in the background while Castle converses with the man father-to-father. After decades of trying to draw attention to his daughter's case, Zev is more than willing to talk about it, especially to someone with a literary microphone.
He speaks of how beautiful and promising she had been and her plans to attend Harvard, a school that in his generation had placed quotas on Jewish students. That all those dreams should end on a day that should have been joyous is still too much to bear. Castle asks about her friends. According to Zev, they were mostly members of her organization. They had been planning a trip to Israel together after their graduation. He is sure that none of them could have meant her any harm. Havah studied, danced and prepared for a future as a doctor, and Zev couldn't have been prouder of her.
"Your forehead has that wrinkly look again," Castle notes as he and Kate leave Zev's apartment in Borough Park.
Kate presses her lips together and nods. "Zev never mentioned a boyfriend. What sixteen-year-old girl doesn't have a boyfriend?"
"Maybe she wasn't allowed to have one," Castle speculated. "Sometimes close relationships with the opposite sex are discouraged in religious communities like the one Zev belongs to. In some sects, a boy wouldn't even be allowed to touch her."
Kate shakes her head. "Zev Greenspan isn't that observant. He wasn't even wearing any kind of a head covering like Cary's father did. And Havah was a folk dancer. From what I saw at Meir's that involves plenty of touching. I'd be willing to bet there was a boy, whether her father knew about it or not."
Castle recalls the chatter at some of Alexis' teenage sleepovers. Boys were usually the primary topic of conversation. "If there had been a boy, her friends would have known about it. The girls who were close to her in her group, probably the other dancers, would have an idea who it was."
Kate shrugs. "If we can find any of them after all these years."
Putting his arm around her shoulders, Castle plants a kiss on her hair. "The Castle fan force is on the case. I can urge them along with a few more posts and tweets, especially about any pubescent lusts. Something will pop up."
Buttons Dutton happily reports that not only did Jackson roll over, but he was babbling at her. She's been taking careful notes about every move and sound he makes for her study, and declares that he's been making excellent progress. Castle queries about his son's "eh-oh" vocalization on the changing table. He's convinced that Jackson is trying to say hello. Buttons tactfully expresses her doubts but assures Castle that she will pay particular attention to that verbalization the next time she watches Jackson.
"Castle," Kate inquires as soon as Buttons has departed the loft, "what do you think Jackson would be saying hello to on the changing table?"
He feels a bit taken aback by her question."Kate, a boy has a very important relationship with the features of his anatomy that are unreachable beneath a diaper. Jackson would consider them worthy of a proper greeting."
Kate rolls her eyes. "Which would definitely make him a chip off the old block."
Castle pulls her against his larger version of the parts in question. "You've been known to give them a hearty welcome yourself."
She trails a fingertip down his thigh. "I suppose, on occasion, I have."
He presses his lips to her neck. "And what would you consider an occasion?"
Kate shoves her hands in his back pockets drawing him to her more tightly. "I think Jackson's naptime might qualify."
Castle nibbles at her earlobe. "Didn't Buttons say he just fell asleep?"
Kate grinds against the hardening beneath his zipper. "I believe she did at that."
For Castle, the tease has gone on more than long enough. He sweeps Kate up in his arms and covers the distance to the bedroom as quickly as he can. His body burns hot against the restriction of his clothes, even as Kate pulls them away. He strips away hers as fast as his fingers can manage the fastenings. They roll atop the light summer spread that Kate used to replace the winter warmth of the duvet. The slight nap of the microfiber is stimulating against skin that requires little stimulation. Kate's tongue spears between his lips, kindling an even fiercer blaze. His hands find her breasts. She moans as eager tips thrust against his palms. Opening to him, she braces her heels behind his calves. He needs no more invitation. Her intimate muscles tighten possessively around him. He draws a steadying breath, pausing for an instant. Kate is having none of that. Her mouth pushes harder against his; her tongue seeking greater depths. He is helpless against the unconscious demands of his body to move faster, plunge further inside his mate.
The explosive quake rocks them without a foreshock of warning. Kate's legs are shaken free even as Castle fights to retain contact. Slowly his arms loose from around her. They lay side by side as he allows his lungs to reinflate. Sometime, somehow, Castle is going to have to figure out how to move again.
An alert sounds from somewhere below. He's tempted to ignore it, but it is the tone he set to alert him to responses to his electronic shoutout for friends of the late Havah Greenspan. He drags himself to the side of the bed and reaches down to retrieve his cell from the pocket of the pants Kate had tossed to the floor.
The message is from a Susan Frank, who claims to have been a friend of Havah's. She says she is living in Florida, but that she and her husband are planning a trip to New York to catch a performance of Hamilton. She's hoping that perhaps Castle and his muse would be willing to meet with her at that time. Castle agrees, hoping that it won't turn out to be a wild goose chase. His fans have requested meetings on a variety of false pretenses before, some considerably more creative than offering a clue to a case - but they usually don't ask him to bring Kate.
Arranging a face to face conversation with Susan is worth a shot, and she won't be in New York for another couple of days. That will give him a chance to check her out. In the meantime, he can catch up on his writing. Drake Bentley is in the hands of his editor, but Castle has more work to do on Nikki Heat. He'd really like to think up an exciting adventure for Raley and Ochoa. And he needs to do something about the asshole at 1PP who keeps trying to put moves on Nikki. He's looking forward to that.
After what he went through when Sorenson, Demming, and Motorcycle Boy were sniffing after Kate, he doesn't want to make things quite that tough for Rook. He's already had the guy take a bullet for Nikki - something Castle often wishes he would have been quick enough to do for Kate. And of course, there was Nikki's sparring partner Don. That was enough. If he can minimize Jameson's worries about future competition, he'll be a happier writer, and from the comments he's heard from his readers, they'll be happier too.
