.

One small note: yes, I've noticed that the opening "two kinds of folks" sequence has been updated now. Do me a favor? Pretend it hasn't been. This story has no specific time setting: I don't want it to be relegated to season 2 just because the intro still says "Turner and Hooch" in it. XD

Sorry that these chapters are taking quite a bit longer now; school's back, and is therefore eating eight hours of five-sevenths of my days. XD Oh: and the song used in this installment is "King Of Anything," which I also don't own. Without further adieu…

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"Mrs. Walker. I'm so sorry for your loss."

The aging woman seated across from her only nodded, tucking a thinning ebony strand of her silk-like hair behind a dainty-looking ear, her other hand nervously wadding a handful of off-brand tissues. There wasn't a soul in the world who would have blamed her for the fact that her voice never quite reached its true octave.

Loss was contagious that way.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Anything you can do…I'd be grateful."

Castle sat after Beckett did, in gradual degrees, keeping sympathetic, lingering eyes on Keiko Walker. For once, he wasn't studying for the purpose of including anything like this in one of his books; he was just…watching. There was an indescribable sadness in the now-childless woman in front of him, reason all too clear, and he couldn't help but put himself in her shoes. If anything like that had ever happened - or were ever to happen - to Alexis…Rick didn't see any scenarios happening in which he wasn't institutionalized, straitjacketed and drooling into a cup. Mrs. Walker here already had his respect just for maintaining basic function.

They all knew there'd been too fair a share of cases where the parents didn't seem to care enough. Talk about tragedy.

There was a silent lull, but Beckett was far more tactful than to push it. Instead, with space, Keiko spoke on her own after a few moments. "My Ayumi was a sweet girl. She would always…always call me, every Sunday evening, we would sometimes go to lunch in the park…it would…remind me of when she was a child…" The woman blotted under her eyes with one of the over-wrung tissues. "I don't know why anyone would…do this to her."

"Our job right now is to find that out," Beckett assured quietly, "and I promise you, we will."

Again, Keiko nodded, looking as small as she undoubtedly felt.

With families like this - innocent ones, bereaved ones - Kate always felt vaguely guilty for the questions she had to ask, and the raw time in which they were needed. But it never stopped her, not at the cost of justice. "When was the last time you talked to your daughter?" she asked gently.

"About…I think, last Wednesday."

"Did she sound troubled, at all?"

"No. She seemed…content. She was happy at her job, she was enjoying her new life…"

For Castle, that was the 'talk' button. He sat forward. "Her new life?"

Keiko nodded yet again. "She'd recently broken up with her boyfriend."

Now Beckett was on the same trolley. Her brow furrowed as she processed this, her eyes not leaving Mrs. Walker. "She was seeing somebody?"

"For…about six months, yes. I thought at first that he was a bit too rich for her taste…Ayumi was a simplistic girl since I can remember…but Ayumi had already made up her mind. She always knew exactly what she wanted."

"Him," Castle verified.

"Who?" Beckett prodded.

Mrs. Walker addressed both of them seamlessly, as if their contradicting questions were all part of a reminiscence. "For a while, yes…his name was Aaron. Aaron Bundy."

The writer marveled yet again at how quickly and discreetly Beckett had copied the name onto her notepad. "And on what terms, exactly, did the relationship end? Do you know whose idea breaking up was?"

"Ayumi's, I'm fairly sure…" Keiko was starting to get a little bit flustered, and she traded a pleading look between the two of them, aghast and ashen at the thought. "You d-don't think…you don't think he…that he…"

"Mrs. Walker," Beckett calmed. "Right now, it's just important that we check every angle. We won't know anything until we do."

The elder woman nodded. It seemed to be her default reaction in crises.

Or at least, what she hid behind. Beckett could relate.

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"So the mom's got an alibi," Esposito figured. He exhaled his entire lung content and leaned as far back as his chair would go, as if even the thought of one more off-the-hook, ruled-out and otherwise eliminated suspect was going to do him in.

Fresh from seeing Mrs. Walker to the elevator, Beckett gave him a slight disapproving look as she passed, and with one bat of her hand, his feet landed with a self-redundant thud on the floor. "'Desk' does not mean 'footstool,' for the eight-hundredth time; and yes."

Castle added in, "And, a real one - not just the fact that you'd have needed a kayak to traverse that river she was crying."

"She says she was at work; does part-time at a flower shop, Langdon at sixty-two Reade. Run it."

"You got it." But as Esposito started to swivel back to his computer, Beckett's hand fell to his shoulder and pulled him back around, and he looked up at her curiously.

"The mom's not so much my concern. I also want you to find whatever you can on an Aaron Bundy. Mrs. Walker said that until recently he and Ayumi were in a relationship."

"So our vic was a new ex…you're thinking the usual?"

"Hate to say 'I hope so,' but I hope so," Beckett nodded.

"It's like I keep saying: there's only three real reasons to kill," Castle proclaimed, ticking off each point on a finger. "Love, money, or a cover-up. What if it was all three?"

Esposito only shook his head, and turned to do his job, but with all her tasks delegated for the moment, Beckett had time to kill, pun ignored. She decided to run with the theory. "Okay, the 'love' I get, maybe even the 'cover-up,' that could work; but the 'money?' Ayumi wasn't rich. She worked retail for God's sake. Bundy is rich." …Then, an 'oh, wait' look crossed her face, and she turned. "According to the mom anyway…hey Esposito, we got confirmation?"

The other detective didn't even turn from his computer screen, just lifted a hand, dryly calling back, "I'm not with Psychic Connection, be with you in a minute."

"Oh, how cool would that be if you were?" Castle lit up suddenly. "It'd be like The Mentalist, only hopefully less formulaic and predictable…that'd be such a twist for Heat Stroke."

Beckett blinked. "…Heat Stroke?"

He seemed to sense that the title wasn't getting the warmest reception. "Sweltering Heat?" he tried. "Over-Heated…Heat Lightening?" All the author got was a blank stare. "…No? I'll work on it."

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The hands on the clock spun in a few circles, and Beckett's patience seemed to be spinning too: off of a spool that was rapidly running out of thread. She hated being at a standstill like this. She needed answers, because she knew that Ayumi's mother wouldn't sleep at night until she had some too. As with every other case that crossed her desk, she knew that a lot better than she'd like to know.

There were nights when even answers didn't help. But they were a start.

The two o'clock hour was coming up, and the demise of one-thirty took Beckett's caffeine buzz with it. Just as she was getting a bit punchy, Esposito emerged from the breakroom, having just taken five for a reboot himself, while the elevator doors opened, bearing a fresh-from-Dean-&-De-Luca Castle.

Luckily, she was still engrossed in back-checking the last of her list of donators, so she paid no attention to the little curcus that followed. Esposito had two mugs in hand, sipping from one and ambling to deliver the other. As soon as Castle saw, he speed-walked across the bullpen, slid in front of Esposito and edged him out, ignoring the 'what's with you?' face he evoked. The only thing that warranted Beckett's attention was the cardboard cup placed on her desk.

"Oh." She looked up, gratefully accepting the coffee. "Thanks Castle."

It was just safer not to ask why he was beaming like a smug kid or why Esposito seemed wierded-out, right? Yeah. She thought so.

No skin off Esposito's nose: he just passed off his second cup to Ryan without missing a beat, the latter having just ninja'd up to the group.

Kevin took the mug without breaking stride, and, no warning, sat on Beckett's desk, blocking her access to her files and being just annoyingly in-the-way enough to cause her to look up at him. When she did, he was smirking like he'd just correctly predicted the Superbowl. Oh, wonderful. What was with everyone around here?

"Off," she ordered.

Ryan was still smug. He loved having news. "Nope."

"Yes."

"Not 'till I see the look on your face when you hear this one."

That did it. The temptation to hit him was very quickly overridden by the hope that they'd found a lead. Beckett looked up again, eyes newly wide this time. "What?"

"Your boy Bundy? He comes complete with a résumé. Four years ago he was sentenced to a nickel at Fulton Correctional of which he only served two years, since the plea he copped was at a buddy's expense."

"Typical," Castle scoffed.

"You'll never guess what the charge was."

"Make me guess and you get a bullet in the leg."

"Embezzlement and grand larceny. And now that he's 'cleaned up his act,' guess which crowd he runs with? The crowd that provided his connection to Ayumi Walker."

Ohhh, it definitely wasn't looking like a hard guess. "The charity," Beckett and Castle concluded…unfortunately for them, they did it at the same time again. Ryan was acting too mole-ish to care, but Esposito wished for a camera.

"That's right," Ryan grinned. "Name wasn't listed on any of the rosters for 'reputation purposes.' Seems like Mr. Bundy was keeping the employees in buisiness and pleasure." He slid off her desk, pocketing one hand and using the other to toast with his coffee mug. "Bet you wish you'd guessed, huh."

"Well, now we know who the checks were coming from," Esposito figured.

Castle raised a conspiratory eyebrow. "Think he could be the reason why Ayumi 'checked' out?"

"We won't know until we find him," Beckett said, already standing and gathering her things. "Say you've got an address, Ry."

He felt decidedly adventurous. "Say I've got the weekend off and I might tell you."

"Address me and I might think about it."

With something between a smirk and a scowl, he handed the slip over, and followed in the wake of the other three toward the elevator…choosing to believe he didn't hear Beckett mutter a smug "So easy" on the way.

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"Hey, let me ask you something."

As usual, Castle was at the back of the line, hurrying to catch up with the Musketeer huddle that was preparing to breach the building ahead of him. How could he be expected to keep up all the time when the stupid Velcro on his 'Writer' vest was faulty? Okay, so maybe not 'faulty.' He was having trouble with it. Either way, his stage-whisper earned Beckett's 'scolding' tone.

"Did it cross your mind that maybe, now's not the time?"

No. "What's the most of these blitzes you guys have ever done for one case?"

"Blitzes?" Esposito snorted. "That's a new one."

"Thesaurus walking."

"You'd be surpised, Castle," Beckett replied. "Now surprise me by shutting up."

"Well if you tell me to then it's not a surp - "

Surprising or not, Beckett turned around in that moment and shoved one of her gloves in his mouth. Turns out, it was.

Newly silent, the group of them edged into the service stairwell of the Columbus Circle building - blocks from the crime scene, the unlikelihood of coincidence making them twice as careful. Once on the second floor, Beckett scanned the hall, then nodded toward a gold-plated doorway.

Ryan squinted to read the number. "That's the one," he said, tone hushed.

She nodded back. An urge followed to give an order or motion for a certain formation, but the detective made herself figuratively bite her tongue: the boys had already flanked the door, ready to clear her. Beckett mentally chided herself that they knew what they were doing, but it was only ever her instinct to lead talking, and that same instinct didn't want to wait to get into this apartment. So it wouldn't.

For the second time in this investigation, she pounded on the door, shouting through it. "Aaron Bundy? N.Y.P.D! Open the door!"

For the second time in this investigation: nothing. Not movement, either.

This time, Ryan wouldn't be the one acting on the signal. She wanted to do this herself. With stunning force, one swift impact from her low-heeled boot sent the varnished plywood door bashing in on itself, and again, like mission-bound fireants, they invaded the room.

Minutes passed. Each space was inspected.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear…"

Unlike the previous two calls, Beckett's revelation that no one was home came out as more of a muttered curse. Because, from what she was observing in here? No one had been home for several days.

The boys confirmed exactly that, rejoining her from opposite sides. "The bed's been made, and there's no clothes in the closet or the dresser," Esposito vented.

"Yeah, and check this." When Ryan beckoned, Beckett followed into the high-end kitchenette. He'd pulled on a pair of rubber gloves he'd had on him, and so did Beckett before plucking up the Post-It note he held. "Says 'Wednesday, LaGuardia to Santorini National.'"

"He's going to Greece?" Beckett re-read the little sheet carefully, adding her own process to Ryan's Cliff's Notes. "Where did you find this?"

"Kitchen counter."

"This is for tonight…eleven-thirty…'bring both tickets,' it says."

Up until now, she hadn't noticed Castle's face hovering over her shoulder from behind. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of flinching: besides, she was better trained. "Sounds like he's skipping a lot more than just town. Who's the second ticket for?"

Beckett was too distracted by a little thing called investigating to roll her eyes that time. "You're the theorizer, Castle, you tell me."

"Nope, sorry; I speculate, not mind-read."

"Huh. Had us fooled."

Funny. Still. If there was one thing the writer had always claimed to be good at, it was snooping around. Especially in things and places that weren't his business. So, he did the only thing that would really be natural in the situation. The first thing he'd always said would provide logical information. He spotted, backtracked, found what he was looking for in the contents of the coffee table - For a guy about to take a one-way trip, he sure leaves a lot lying around - and discreetly started leafing through Aaron Bundy's junk mail.

For a few moments, he got away with it, too. "Beckett. Check it out." Esposito was back from the bedroom, holding up a clothes hanger with one finger of a blue-gloved hand, the other one holding open the black flap left by the parted zipper. "Empty garment bag bunched up under the bed. Only thing there, too."

The female detective's brow creased. "So, assuming he's wearing whatever was in there, we're obviously thinking he's headed somewhere fancy…"

That was all the time allowance Castle had needed to hit the jackpot. "We don't have to think," he announced, clearly and suddenly, head snapping up, eyes widened by a hint of a 'gotcha' smile. In his right hand, up went a tri-folded paper, a grand fleur-de-lis stamped at the heading. "We know."

From their positions in the room, blue, brown, and green eyes all turned and fell on the author…and the green ones narrowed, their owner marching a lot closer, snatching the letter out of his hand. "Castle! Are you insane? We don't have a warrant for this; you can't just go poking through people's mail without probable cause! That's so far from protocol I wouldn't even know what to call it - not to mention it's unethical - "

"Yes, and it's also your only lead," he interrupted, irritatingly calmly.

…What? Now what was he getting at?

Rick seemed to take her acceptingly glaring silence as an opening. He bobbed his head toward the tri-fold in Beckett's hand, the one that was now slightly less folded as she voraciously scanned it against her judgment. Too late for that, anyway; he decided he'd be nice and just explain instead of holding it against her. "That would be an invitation for seven-forty-five this evening to the - "

"'First inaugural gala' for the United Charitable Board of Manhattan," Beckett finished, realizing for herself with each word she read. The other pair of detectives had flanked the two, and Beckett looked up at all three of them. "This is for seven-forty-five tonight. At the Pennsylvania. Bundy's making the rounds to save face, and leaving the country before cleanup."

Ryan exhaled a snort of mock-appreciation. "Somebody forgot to teach 'im Emily Post's guide to etiquette." Getting only dry looks in return for his deadpan, he shut up. Smart decision.

Beckett didn't bother acknowledging any interruption in the least. "That's less than five hours from now," she continued.

Esposito's voice hovered over her shoulder. "Yeah, and from what I've seen of this apartment he sure ain't comin' back."

"People running from a life in the pokey rarely do," Castle noted.

"So…" That left Ryan, who assigned himself to be the one to make heads or tails of this, apparently. "We've got approximately…five hours to arrest our probable killer before he's conveniently out of our jurisdiction and lounging on a bath towel in Greece. And…we don't know where he is."

"Well that's just a friggin' great afternoon," Esposito grumbled…

…but Castle clamped a hand to his forearm before any of the group could get anywhere. They stopped, paid attention. "No no…it could be, actually," he corrected, an unmistakable, plan-wielding new look flashing in his eye. "…I think I've got an idea."

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"No."

"It's the only play we've got, Beckett."

"Sir, no. We can still find him."

"In four and a half hours? Not without a time machine."

"But, sir…" Twisting sideways to skirt the corner of a desk in her path, Beckett trotted the few inches to close the gap again between herself and her moving target. It could have had a lot to do with desperation for an out, here, and she might not even deny it. "We can't be wasting time at some party." The word 'party' couldn't have had more derision in it, as if she'd said 'brothel' or 'rat-eating contest' or something. "We've got other leads we can't just leave hanging - "

"Esposito told me the mother's alibi checked out. Same as the 'J through P' donor list."

Well, Esposito's a loser. "Well we still have the rest of the charity to fact-check. And Hayden Fletcher."

Captain gave one shake of his shiny balding head. "Nope. Detective Ryan made his last call before you left; faxed in the papers. Q through Z are clean and Fletcher was at his sister's in New Jersey."

Well Ryan says anything to get attention! "Well I still think there are better things we can be doing with our time than playing dress-up to make our catch." Goodbye, rationality: Kate Beckett once knew you well.

The captain stopped outside his office door, turned to his detective, and gave her a probing eyebrow. "Better than putting Ayumi Walker's killer in a jail cell?"

That one had to sort of flatten her, didn't it… "No sir."

"And don't you trust my lead enough after all this time, that if I say the best way to get this guy before he falls out of our hands is to do a little undercover work, you do it? Or would you rather just question my authority?"

…She hated semi-sarcastic rhetoricals. "…No sir."

"Good," came the paternally-smirking reply. "Face it, Detective: Castle's idea is our best shot. Now if I were you, I'd get cleaned up. Your 'party' starts in four hours."

Very little on the planet compared to the frustration that was Beckett when Montgomery's door opened and shut in front of her face. Just the fact that she'd known it was a losing argument in the first place was enough to cause her tight-lipped expression, and a few shrewd uniforms took the wide path around her, deciding against suicide.

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I look outside,

So many things I'd say

If only I were able,

But I just keep quiet,

And count the cars that pass by…

"Hey!"

Alexis' January-blue eyes widened a bit as they looked up from page 417 of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Meeting the sight of her father holding up two different ties to his collar, she turned down the volume of her Sara Bareilles song and tugged out one of the lime-green earbuds it was streaming through. "Hey dad."

"Which one makes me look more inconspicuous?" His eyebrows wrinkled as that replayed in his head. "Or, just less conspicuous - yes, less conspicuous. But I need to look rich, too…so, inconspicuous, rich, and bearing a guise of being benevolently charitable. Except to be charitable is to be benevolent, or at least look like it…man, I've gotta be off my game today."

Alexis smiled in amused sympathy. She'd heard hundreds of thousands of these little moments of questionable sanity. "Well, you are rich," she consoled, "but, I think that's a little too much for just one tie to say all on its own."

Rick wrinkled his nose in mock-disappointment. "Rats. Suppose this means I'll actually have to wear pants as well." He wagged both ties again, urging her like a child. "Pick, pick…"

In his left hand was a champagne-and-burgundy striped Brooks Brothers necktie; on the right was an Armani bowtie in charcoal grey. Alexis pointed to his right. "That one. The gold one's a little too…"

"Beverly Hills Sonny Bono?"

"…I…was going to say 'conspicuous.'"

"Ah. Fitting." The bestseller smiled. "Thank you sweetie. Go back to your feminism."

"Thanks. You too." Grinning softly, Alexis' hand lingered to move her bookmark, but something caught her mind, and she dropped it back in place. Her face took on an inquisitive expression as she looked up again, calling out over her dad's retreating footsteps. "Hey…so, this thing you guys are going to tonight…you for sure know who the killer is?"

Castle turned back around at his daughter's voice, walking a few paces couchward. After a moment, he answered fairly confidently, "We think so," with a measured nod. Then, he couldn't resist lightening the subject a bit: "Why, do you?"

"Dad." At least Alexis' eyerolls were always nicer than Beckett's, with a little smile in there. More shy than scolding. Who should ever want to scold Richard Castle anyway? Perish the very perishable thought. "No, I just mean…well, say you go."

"I'm with you so far…"

"And say this guy has…I don't know; say he's found out that the cops are looking for him there. What if he doesn't show up?"

"He has to show up," Rick said simply. Closing the gap of rug under his Hanes-socked feet, Castle sat on the open couch space next to his high-schooler. "With security monitoring his place, there's no way he could've gotten back in, or, anywhere near it, to see that we'd been there…there's really nothing that could've tipped him off. And to skip this event would mean to forfeit his plane ride."

Alexis seemed determined to find another way. "Well, can't you guys just send his name and picture and information to all the outgoing flights at all the airports? You know, ground him? That way you wouldn't have to go to the benefit."

"We…well, they…don't have enough puzzle pieces right now to legally prove he killed Ayumi. He'd be arrested on suspicion. I'll admit, he's our biggest suspect, and, if he's innocent then I'm Stephanie Meyer, but…without a confession or fresh prints to match to prove someone's not using his identity, we can't just call up all the airports in New York. Doesn't work that way, I'm afraid."

Seeming more pensive somehow, Alexis nodded, taking a different tack, in a voice that Castle could have sworn was just slightly more eight-year-old-ish. "Okay, well…what if he's…prepared anyway?"

"Prepared, like…"

"…What if he has a gun?"

With those words, Richard Castle's rugged, teddy-bear heart just about jellified, turning him into one of those bad clichés he'd never write in one fell swoop. "Aw, sweetheart." All this time he'd been shadowing detectives, and she was still worried about that? Okay, so he'd been on the scary end of guns before; he'd gotten out of it, at least, hadn't he…? Scooching closer, his arms circled Alexis good and tight, and she set her book aside to reciprocate. "I've had scrapes before, and I'm still fine."

"I know," she said reasonably, "it's just…"

"I know." The same two words, but such a different meaning. He was, after all, her go-to guy. It was in his job description to know these things; to be just a little extra psychic when it came to matters of his daughter. Most were surprised how good a job he did. Big Castle moved back, a big hand on each of Little Castle's shoulders, and he leveled with her, blue eyes to blue eyes. "But it's my job to worry about you. Not your job to worry about me."

The teenager exhaled softly, allowing her smile back on. "I guess you're technically right," she teased gently, but then reverted a little bit into seriousness. "I can't help it."

"I know that too," Rick answered, wearing a new grin of his own. He recognized a peeling corner of her worry he could pluck at, and never in his life had he failed to capitalize on that. "But just remember. Even if Shady McFlight-Hopper brings a gun to the gala - " Castle tightened his second hug to put Alexis' ear within whispering distance of his mouth. Then he did. " - Esposito has a bigger one."

She had to giggle, and Castle knew he'd won the hour. Her eyes softened on his face. "Thanks, dad."

"Anytime, pumpkin."

With no time to spare, the father-daughter Cuteness Moment was punctuated by a short series of flat buzzes from the front door - and whomever it was, they'd pressed the button to the tune of 'Shave and a Haircut.' Standing up, Castle automatically ruled out everyone he knew who lacked a sense of humor. "I got it."

Alexis nodded, and, going a step further, stood from the couch herself, bringing her book along. "I'll go read in my room, unless you need me…"

"Who knows?" he called behind him, "it might be for you." The second he unlatched and swung the door, though, after crossing the field of carpet and hardwood, he shook his head, tossing a "Nevermind, not for you," over his shoulder.

The two leather- and trench-coated figures in his doorway traded a glance. Seeing them, Alexis paused briefly on the bottom of the stairs, sending a greeting smile and a small wave. "Hi, Detective Ryan, Detective Esposito."

Both of them waved or nodded back as she disappeared upstairs, and then Ryan cracked, "Shouldn't assume, Castle; we could just as easily have been here for Alexis."

"Detective, if you're palling around with my daughter and I don't know about it, I think we might have to have the 'intentions' talk," he joked back. Castle stepped aside to let them in and shut the door after. "To what do I owe the drop-by?"

"Beckett," Esposito revealed. "Said she wanted us to come by and 'strategize' in plenty'a time before the bag tonight."

"Without her?" That'd be surprising.

"Nah," Ryan corrected, "she called. Said she's still in traffic; should be right behind us."

"Why here instead of the precinct?"

Esposito raised his eyebrows, quipping, "Feeling inhospitable, Castle?"

"No, on the contrary, in fact, I just bought four new six-packs of Zima - I'm just saying it's very un-Beckett to move team strategy to the visitor field."

Ryan shrugged. "You ask me, she's just saving time. With a cap on our arrest zone she's already on the edge about making it. Might as well round corners, and your place is closer."

"And, bro…" Esposito lowered his voice, tilting his head down in a look that meant to question Castle's mental health. "Zima? Really?"

"…What?" Still with the expectant staring. "…I still buy regular beer too…"

"There we go."

Okay then. Mental note, bring up only traditional Man Beer in the presence of purists. Ushering them further into the apartment, Castle snaked an arm around each of the shorter men's shoulders, a silent 'walk with me, talk with me' if there ever was one. No reason they couldn't kill some time until Beckett arrived, right? "So!" he began heartily. "What do you gentlemen plan to wear to our finest hour this evening?"

Once again, Esposito and Ryan traded a glance. As they both looked down and gestured to their current, office-casual, slept-in work suits, the look on Castle's face could easily be compared to the look he'd gotten after reading his divorce settlements.

"Oh, no no no no. You're kidding, right?" He forced a chuckle, grinning wide. "That's funny, you guys are good…you got me…whoo. No seriously, c'mon."

One of Ryan's eyebrows migrated up. "Exactly how much do you think this job pays, Castle?"

"'Cause if you got a better idea, you can talk to the comissioner, get that fixed," added Esposito. "Until then, this's 'bout all we got."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen," the author clucked, drawing them in like Regina George about to leak a secret. "I have the highest respect possible for the fine, fine work you and your ilk do for the great city of New York. That being said…guys in those suits? Don't get into charity galas at the Pennsylvania Hotel. Guys in those suits park cars at the Pennsylvania Hotel."

Circumstances considered, the detectives chose not to take insult. Instead, Esposito asked, "So what's your big suggestion?"

"Easy." He said it like there had never been a more obvious decision in the history of the universe. "We've got - " he checked his watch " - three hours until showtime, and we are going to use them doing what our victim helped fancy people do every day. You're all coming with me, and we are going - dare I say it - shopping."

Matching groans immediately came from both the other throats. "Castle," Ryan protested.

"No, c'mon! It'll be fun." When he didn't get any reply, he pressed, "Because you guys are in my world now. And in my world, they won't even let you in…unless you look the part."

Well, it wasn't like either detective could argue with that, could they? And they certainly wouldn't object to free stuff… One last look was swapped between them before Esposito sealed the deal, this time with nods incorporated. "All right, Castle, you got a deal." He topped it off with a finger pointed in warning. "But if anyone recognizes me anywhere I wouldn't wanna be recognized, you hurt. And I'm not wearin' no pink."

"Uh, yeah. Seconded."

"Fair enough," Castle grinned.

"What's fair enough?"

Writer-boy dropped his hold, and all three men did a one-eighty to face the voice of Detective Katherine Beckett. She stood in the doorway, arms folded…and Castle wasn't sure if he wanted to know how she'd gotten past the lock or if he didn't. Instead of debating that one - another time - he smiled.

"Oh, hey Beckett."

"'Sup."

"Good, you're here," Castle pronounced, clapping his hands together once, loud enough to make birds scatter, if there were any. "I'm taking all of you to one of my personal favorite shops to prepare for our undercoverness tonight. Let's go; maybe we can still catch the elev - "

His walking and his talking were both put to a stop by Beckett; a flat palm intercepting his chest worked just fine. The refusal came fast and heavy - who'd have expected any different? "No. No way, Castle. Not even a chance."

Rick stage-sighed, feigning big-time exasperation. "Do I have to convince you too? You have no other leads, we've got three hours until the event starts, and I'm sorry: isn't the point of being undercover to blend in with everybody else? Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but that's how I thought it was."

Beckett blinked and switched arms, scrabbling for something to say that would back her stubbornness with logic. "Okay, fine - you say it's black-tie?"

"I didn't, Aaron Bundy did."

"I've got things at home I can wear."

Castle spent exactly three milliseconds enjoying the mental picture of that. Afterward, he simply grabbed Esposito's and Ryan's nearest shoulders and started toward the door, nudging past Kate mid-sentence…and, taking advantage of the fact that she wouldn't smash his puppy-dog face in while he was holding two good-guy hostages. "Well, I'm very glad to hear that, Detective…in the meantime, they, however, don't, and I really don't think you want to go in there alone with…me as your only backup. Do you."

…God, that man was so frustrating. Ryan and Esposito offered shrugs and 'what can you do?' gestures as they were steered past her, but she saw right past those faces and could probably pinpoint the exact second they'd caved…and then there was Kate, turned around herself, standing facing out of Castle's doorway.

Castle tilted his head back a fraction, letting his voice flow down the hall to her. "You coming?"

Beckett didn't trust herself to form words to answer. Instead, she balled her hands into fists so tight that the skin went white around her knuckles, practically grinding her teeth…and then she decompressed. She took a deep breath, raised her head, and pulled Castle's apartment door shut, reminding herself that it was only three hours as she walked after them.

Yeah. Like the Titanic passengers hadn't said the same thing.

Who made you king of anything?

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Phew! So glad to finally have another bit done. I'll apologize again to you guys for my delays, but my life is a very crazy thing right now. I'll also thank you for hanging in and reading despite the wait. Seems they've got the killer a little early, doesn't it? You'll just have to stick around to see if there's a twist somewhere. ;)

Like I said in the previous chapters and will continue to say, if there's anyone (ages 14 and over) interested in joining a Castle roleplaying forum, check out the bolded paragraph in my profile. Thank you.

Last but SO VERY not least: PLEASE, do me the quick favor of leaving a review to let me know what parts you liked best. It really helps me and makes my day to read those, and I could always use some day-making. xD

More to come after this 'commercial' - and the chapters will start to get shorter after this, because let's face it: we all know there are more commercials toward the end. ;D

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