Kate Beckett attempted, once again, to hang the picture straight, but when she stepped back it was still crooked. She sighed heavily. Perhaps it was the wall. Maybe her newest acquisition was perfectly vertical, and the wall was off.

The music didn't help. So far it had been playing from before eight that morning, and as much as she was a fan of certain composers, even groups, it was loud and it was starting to really piss her off.

The trouble was, she knew exactly who was playing it. He'd only been in residence for about three weeks, and already he'd made a very fumbling pass at her in the elevator, and sent a huge bunch of flowers as an apology. Apart from the fact he looked about twelve, and she wasn't into cradle snatching, he wasn't her type, although lately she had been wondering just what type that was.

Still, the bass was now making things bounce on the shelves, and enough was enough.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she stormed out into the main hall, stopping before her neighbour's door and banging on it.

After a moment the music was muted – thank God – and she could hear footsteps.

The door opened. "Oh, hi, Kate." The young man grinned at her. "What can I do for you? Do you want to come in? I can make some coffee. Or maybe send out for doughnuts? Isn't that what all you cops eat?"

Kate didn't smile back. "That music. Keep it turned down."

"Huh?"

"The music, Greg. Keep it down."

"Oh. Sorry." Greg Albery held up his hand, two small white plugs in his palm. "I had my ear plugs in."

"Ear …" She stared at him. "You were playing music that loudly and you had ear plugs in."

"Was it loud?" He glanced over his shoulder at the offending music system. "Sorry. I hadn't realised. I'm working, and sometimes I just have to tune out."

Kate was sorely tempted to go and get her gun and just shoot the idiot right now, except that would involve a lot of paperwork. "If you need to tune out, turn the music off."

"But I can't work without music." He jerked his head. "I'm trying to write a book."

No, please, not another one. She offered up the heartfelt prayer but managed to swallow the sigh, and instead just glared at him. "I don't care. Keep the music turned down. Or buy a Walkman, I don't care. Just don't go disturbing everyone again!"

He looked like he was the world's biggest puppy and she'd just kicked him. "I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't realise. And of course I'll keep it down. I didn't …" He sniffed a little.

Don't cry. Please don't cry. "Well, good." A noise from inside her apartment caught her attention. "That's my cellphone. I have to go."

He nodded. "Okay. Maybe we can have coffee another time. Or perhaps dinner …"

His voice faded as she closed her door, but she knew he was still staring. So far he wasn't a nuisance, but she could see the day … Picking up her cell she stabbed the on button with her thumb and said, "What?"

"Nice to talk to you too," Esposito said.

She stared at her image in the large mirror over the hall stand. Her forehead was like granite, and her eyes … she closed them and took a deep breath. "It's my day off."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But you know how you like the freaky ones."

Her eyes slammed open again, and this time her reflection was almost smiling. "Tell me."

---

A series of whiteboards, covered in notes and sheets of paper held on by various magnets, were standing across the end of the study. Rick was staring at them, tapping the marker in his hand on his teeth.

"That bad, huh?"

He turned in his seat and saw Maggie standing in the open doorway, a smile on her lips.

"Nope. Not at all. Just thinking."

"Mmn. Thinking."

He watched as she approached the boards, staring intently at the boards' contents. "Yeah, you know," he went on. "Pondering. Cogitating. Mulling over. Contemplating." He made an emphatic motion with the pen. "Thinking."

"Writer's block?"

"No." Now he was on the defensive. "Not at all."

"Really. Odd, that. I've only ever known you plan things out to this level of detail when you're stuck."

He put his feet on the corner of the desk. "Then maybe you know me too well."

She grinned over her shoulder, then turned back. "You know, this isn't bad. I like the beginning. And the end. It's just a bit … stodgy in the middle."

"I hope you're talking about my plot and not my waistline."

"Oh, yes." Maggie half-closed her green eyes, staring at the words as if they could speak to her. "You could …" She paused.

"Go ahead."

"Are you going to take offence?"

"No. I'm curious to know what you'd do."

"Oh, not me. But you could …" Stepping forwards she tapped the board. "Keep it up to here. Definitely have a copycat killer. Only no-one knows he's the copycat, that there is even a copycat in the first place." She licked her lips, her tongue moving slowly. "Then the copycat is killed, possibly in what seems like an accident, and the police find enough proof to hang him. If he wasn't already dead, that is. Only the real killer murdered him, and is after your heroine. That would then lead quite naturally into the ending you have here."

"So basically just junk the middle third of my carefully wrought plan."

She laughed. "Pretty much."

He gazed at her. "Damn."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

"You could make it a lot more complicated, of course. The real killer is a cop, who became a police officer because he wanted to be involved with serious crimes, only he slowly realises that it isn't enough, so he starts killing as a way to get the high, then …" She stopped and grinned. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm so grateful I'll dedicate it to you."

"Rather have a share of the profits."

"Not that grateful."

She laughed again, dropping onto the leather sofa as he turned the chair to follow her. "Thought not."

"So … you don't seem too cut up about Igor."

"Ivan."

"Yeah, him. I told you he wasn't good enough for you." He tossed the marker pen onto the desk. "He had shifty eyes."

"You only met him once."

"It was enough."

She pulled her red sweater down more firmly. "It's not like they're queuing up around the block, Rick."

"You just don't put yourself out there enough."

"You mean like you do?"

His lips twitched. "I can't help it if women find me overwhelmingly desirable."

"Well, no-one seems to feel that way over me."

She really believed that no-one could want her for herself, and no matter what he or anyone else said, she wasn't going to change her mind. He sighed. "You should have said yes when I asked."

She put her head back on the leather, inhaling the dark brown smell appreciatively. "Maybe I should."

Before he could comment, his cellphone rang. Tossing papers aside on the desk top, he finally located it and punched the button.

"Yo. Talk to me." He saw Maggie smile, mouth the word Yo? then shake her head. He listened carefully. "You're kidding." There was another pause. "Where?" Making rapid notes on a pad, he clicked the pen half a dozen times. "I'll be there in …" He glanced at his watch. "Fifteen," he finished. "Is Kate on her way?"

Maggie leaned forward. Kate?

"See you there." He clicked the phone off and stood up. "Maggie, I know this isn't fair, and I normally wouldn't do it to a guest, but you're … well, you're Maggie, and there's this dead body that I have to –"

"You're dumping me for a corpse?" Her eyebrows raised, then she laughed. "Of course you are. You're Rick Castle."

Picking up his jacket he shrugged into the arms. "What time do you have to be at the ceremony?"

"Invitation says seven thirty."

He nodded, patting his pockets to make sure he had everything. "I'll be back well before that. Cinderella, you will go to the ball." He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling, then almost ran out.

Martha stepped back as her son grabbed his coat and scarf. "Rick?"

"Gotta go. Entertain Maggie," Rick said, kissing her on the cheek before opening the front door. "Kate needs me." Another flash of a grin and he was gone, the door slamming closed behind him.

Martha shook her head then turned to the study. Maggie was standing in the doorway.

"Who's Kate?" the younger woman asked, a quizzical look on her face.

---

Lanie Parish looked up. "You sure can pick 'em," she said.

"Now, you know we only save the best for you," Ryan responded, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. The short winter day was on its last legs, and the cold air was making his fingers go numb. It didn't help that this particular body had been dumped in what felt like a wind tunnel in the centre of a maze of office blocks. "T.O.D?"

"Are you kidding me?" Lanie shook her head. "In this weather I'll be lucky to thaw myself out, let alone her."

"Guess."

"I don't guess."

"Try," Esposito put in.

"Is he trying to make you be unprofessional?" Kate asked, striding up to them, her red scarf flapping in the arctic wind.

"It isn't going to work, and I don't have a time of death, before you ask." Lanie smiled at her friend. "They got you involved?"

Kate shrugged. "I was only sitting at home anyway."

"Don't tell me. You were bored out of your mind."

"Nearly. So very nearly."

"You do know a man can freeze to death in less than three minutes, don't you?" Ryan complained, stamping his feet.

"Less, on a bad day, but I can't say that's going to matter to her," the medical examiner said, turning back to the body.

Kate's eyebrow raised. "She was found like this?"

"Apparently the case was closed, but someone was nosy. Probably tried to lift it, take it away," Esposito explained. "Looks like the lock gave, popped the lid."

Hurrying feet announced another arrival.

"What did I miss?" Rick asked, gazing from one to the other, rubbing his hands together.

"All right, who called him?" Kate demanded, but neither of her colleagues would even look at her. "Fine." Her jaw clenched.

"Sweetie, you grind your teeth like that, we're going to have to take you to the dentist," Rick said, turning his charming smile onto full. "And you wouldn't like that."

"Just … don't touch anything."

"Do I ever?"

"Yes."

"But I'm learning." He looked down at the body and his eyes widened. "Wow."

"Yeah," Esposito agreed.

The corpse was a young woman, not much more than a girl, dressed in only a black lace bra and panties. Her skin was pale, very pale, but since her hair was a naturally dark strawberry blonde that could have been normal. What wasn't normal was the fact that she was stuffed – or rather, folded – into a double bass case, her face turned towards the watchers, her lips slightly parted as if about to offer some kind of rebuke.

"Are you going to try and get her out of there?" Kate asked. "Only she looks pretty firmly wedged."

Lanie stood up. "No. The whole lot should come back to the lab."

"Any sign of her clothing? A handbag? Any form of identification?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nope."

"Extend your perimeter. And see if anyone in the offices saw anything."

"Most of them are empty," Esposito pointed out. "This area was due for redevelopment before the recession hit."

"Do what you can."

He nodded and moved off, Ryan following at his heels.

Rick reached out to touch the girl's face, but thought better of it. "She's very young," he murmured.

Lanie sighed. "Death doesn't seem to have any age barriers."

"No." He looked at the dead eyes, glassy and cold. "You're right about that."