Inside the limousine Rick was fighting to pull off his shirt without undoing all the buttons or punching the ceiling, made worse because his t-shirt was caught up in it. Eventually he managed to tug it over his head, dropping it onto the floor. Then he realised Maggie was staring at him, a speculative look on her face.
"Maggie!" He half turned away, trying to hide his chest from her. "I'm getting changed here!"
"I've seen you naked before. It's not like you've grown a third nipple or anything." Her eyes widened into a question.
"No, I haven't," he insisted. "But it was a long time ago. Besides, it was spring, much less detrimental to a man's character. And it was your idea to steal that horse."
"Borrow."
"Whatever. Just … turn around."
She sighed heavily. "Fine. And it wasn't a long time ago. Not that you've changed much, either." She stared out at the other cars, but not really seeing them.
Alexis handed him a clean shirt and a black silk tie, and he busied himself for a moment, before looking at his mother. "Don't tell me. Free booze?"
Martha smoothed an already immaculate eyebrow. "Why not? And I'm sure there's going to be some people I haven't already met."
"You know my reputation started going downhill as soon as you moved in, don't you?"
"No, dear." She patted him on the knee. "That happened much longer ago."
His eyes narrowed. "There's a nice retirement home out near –"
She laughed, a sound somewhere between the shattering of fine crystal and a bootleg porno video. "You'd miss me."
"I'd visit. Annually." He undid his jeans and managed to push them down his legs, kicking them off. "What about you?" he asked his daughter as she gave him another pair of pants. "What's your excuse?"
"Maggie asked me."
"I wanted some moral support," the woman in question said, glancing back and seeing Rick struggling to pull black trousers up his finely-toned thighs, lifting his hips from the seat to get them higher. No. He hadn't changed that much at all. And at least he was wearing underwear this time.
Zipping and buttoning, he didn't see her look away again. "Well, I'm here now."
"Yes. And thanks."
"You're welcome." The jacket was next, then he ran his fingers through his hair, judging it was fine when Alexis nodded slightly. "Okay," he said. "Done."
Maggie turned back, and her jaw dropped. "How can you do that?" she asked, shaking her head. "It took me three hours to even begin to look put together, and you change in the back of a limo and end up looking like … that?"
"What can I say?" He smirked a little. "I have a gift."
"Right." She stared out into the night once more.
The smile died on his lips, and his brows drew together. "Maggie, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I know I was late, but it couldn't be helped."
"That's okay. You're here now."
He waited a moment to see if she continued, but when she didn't he said, "You look good, by the way."
She did, too. She was wearing a black sleeveless dress that fell to her knees, the bottom of the frock covered in tiny crystals that moved as she did. A double line of the same crystals was sewn from her shoulder, down across her left breast to the hem. Her shawl was fine black linen, and around her neck was a silver and amber pendant he recognised as having been a birthday present he'd given her back in college. She'd always said it was her favourite.
"Thanks."
He could see she was upset, mainly from long experience of being married twice, and the set of her shoulders.
"What about us?" Martha asked, one eyebrow raised, glancing down at her bronze two-piece and fur wrap then across at Alexis in her 'I'm not a grown-up no matter what you think' dark blue sheath dress.
"You know you always wonderful. Both of you." Rick turned back to the woman sitting next to him. "Maggie, whatever it is -"
She didn't let him finish. "We're here."
The driver pulled into the kerb, then was out in a moment, holding the door open for them to alight. Cameras flashed as Maggie got out, followed by Martha and Alexis, Rick bringing up the rear.
"Rick! Rick Castle! Over here!"
They all looked, and saw a small gaggle of young girls, probably not even out of their teens, and all of them waving madly and clutching copies of Storm Fall.
"It looks like your fan contingent made it this year," Maggie said, smiling all the time even if there was little warmth in it.
"Can I help it if I'm irresistible?" Rick asked, waving back. "And they're way too young, even for me."
"So you've grown out of being a pervert?"
Normally this sort of conversation between them would be light-hearted, backed up by true affection on both sides. But this time it was almost painful, as if she meant every word.
"Maggie, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She swept inside, under the huge sign that announced 'The Patterson Awards' with a smaller one across the corner, 'HERE TONITE', muttering, "I hate people who can't spell."
"Have I done something to upset her?" Rick asked his mother as they followed across the black and white marble floor towards the main ballroom. "I mean, apart from almost not making it."
"Ah, no, dear. But perhaps we did."
"Why? What did you do?"
"I told her about Kate Beckett," Alexis admitted, looking unhappy.
"And don't glare at us like that," Martha added. "We merely told her you were interested in the woman you'd based your new heroine on."
He shook his head. "It's not like that, Mother."
"Isn't it? Besides, why shouldn't Maggie know? You're not interested in her in that way. Are you?"
His mouth tightened. "That isn't the point."
"I'd have thought it was exactly the point." She tapped him on the shoulder then wafted onwards, momentarily distracted by a rather dapper silver-haired man standing by an aspidistra before realising he was an ex and letting her gaze slide.
Uniformed flunkeys opened up the double doors and ushered them inside, where the noise of too many people talking about themselves was already almost unbearable. More than three dozen tables were dressed in snowy linen, expensive place settings in front of each of ten chairs, and a veritable cornucopia of flowers in a display in the centre of each, complimenting perfectly the stands of greenery at intervals around the walls. A small orchestra played a medley of popular songs in the background, and waiters passed through the crowd, silver salvers on upheld hands.
And then there was Gina, standing by the Black Pawn table, her gold satin, strapless dress clinging to every curve and complimenting her hair perfectly.
They had to go past to get to their own table at the front, and of course she managed to turn at that precise moment.
"Rick." She didn't look at all happy to see him. "I thought you weren't coming this year."
"I was … ah … persuaded," he explained.
"Well, sit down. They're about to start."
"Sorry, Gina, but I'm with someone else." He nodded towards Maggie.
"I see. Trying to poach you, is she?"
"No, of course not."
Gina wasn't listening to him, but had already turned to the other woman. "Maggie."
"Gina. Nice to see you again." If she'd tried she couldn't have put less sincerity into the words. "And so soon."
"You too." The blonde looked her up and down. "Put on a little weight, haven't you?"
"What, in a few hours?"
"Then it must be the dress."
It took all of Maggie's willpower not to haul off and slug the other woman in the face. "Well, I suppose since I don't spend obscene amounts of money on such useless frivolities as designer clothes and silicone implants, perhaps you're right." Her gaze slid down to Gina's chest then back up, and she strode away.
"Enough," Rick hissed at his ex-wife.
"Why? She started it."
"No, she didn't."
"I don't mean now. I mean back when we first met. And I still haven't forgiven you for telling me you named Alexis after her." She glanced past him to the young girl standing a few paces back.
"I didn't do it intentionally!"
"No, of course not."
"Gina, she's been Maggie to me for as long as I can remember. I'd honestly forgotten her name was Alexis."
She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Rick, don't be an idiot."
He sighed. This was an argument they'd had a lot in the preceding years, and probably would again. "Fine. I'm an idiot. But then, we both knew that. I married you, didn't I?" He pushed past her and hurried to catch up with Maggie.
Martha looked Gina up and down, then, in a tone meant to be conspiratorial but that carried all too well, asked, "Didn't you wear that at the Tony's last year? And someone dropped mayonnaise down it? I have to say, it's cleaned up nicely."
"No, I did not!"
"Really? Oh well, my mistake." She smiled briefly and walked past, taking Alexis with her.
Gina stared after them both, fury making her cheeks pink despite her make-up. "Waiter!" she called imperiously. "Champagne!"
Maggie had only stopped at the McKinnon Publishing House table long enough to toss her shawl onto a chair before heading for one of the long bars at the side. She was already ordering when Rick got to her.
"Scotch. Double. No, make it a triple. No ice."
"Single malt?" the barman enquired.
"No. Too good for what I'm going to do with it."
"Yes, madam." He turned and picked up a glass, positioning it under one of the optics.
"What are you doing?" Rick asked, leaning on the bar and gazing at her.
"What does it look like?"
"I'm not entirely sure."
The barman put the glass down in front of her, the amber liquid glowing in the light.
"Having a drink," Maggie said, picking it up. "Join me?"
"Not right now." He waved the barman away. "Maggie, I'm sorry."
"What, for Gina? Don't worry about apologising for her. You married her."
"And you told me it was a mistake, I know."
"I don't think I've once said I told you so." She sipped the whisky and grimaced slightly as the alcohol burned down her throat.
"No, you haven't. And I'm grateful. But it isn't that."
"Then what?"
"Kate. That I didn't tell you about her."
Maggie paused, the glass at her lips. "About the inspiration for your new heroine?" She shrugged. "Why should you?"
"Because we tell each other everything."
She tossed back a mouthful, this time managing to keep her face from showing her emotion. "No, Rick. We don't. Not everything. I'm sure there's plenty I haven't told you."
"Like what?"
"Well, I can't think of anything this second. But give me a minute or two."
"Maggie -"
"Rick, it's okay. I don't have any say in your love life."
"Love … Maggie, there's nothing like that."
"But you'd like there to be." She dragged a smile up from somewhere. "So it's fine."
"Then how come I get the feeling that you're lying to me?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I know you. We broke into our first house together, remember? Got drunk and threw up in the Dean's personal flower bed."
"Ah, good times." She swallowed back the remaining whisky. "Let's relive them." She caught the barman's attention and lifted the glass. "Another, please."
"Yes, madam."
"God, that makes me feel old," she murmured under her breath. "When did I get to be a madam?"
"Okay, enough." Rick sounded on the verge of exasperation. "I have a new muse. She's a control freak and she hates me. So far we've solved some pretty interesting murders, and I've managed to write more chapters faster than I have done in years. In fact, I'm this close to finishing the first novel in the Nikki Heat series." He held his thumb and forefinger a tiny distance apart. "What you saw on those boards was the second book. Now, I've never done that before. Had the next book plot ready while still finishing the last. You know that. You know me. And I know you." He put his hand on hers. "Yes, I like her. She irritates me, and all I want to do is make her smile. She threatens to kill me, and I need to hear her laugh. But what we have, you and me … she's not going to replace that. You're my best and oldest friend, Mags." He used his old pet name for her, just to prove he wasn't lying. "Whatever happens with Kate, that won't change."
"What if it isn't enough?"
He stared at her, surprised. "What?"
Before Maggie could answer, there was a small fanfare from the orchestra, and someone coughed into the microphone on the small stage. Nearly everyone turned around to look, recognising one of the new stars from a surprisingly successful comedy series.
He smiled, showing the teeth that had helped make him an overnight sensation after years in the business. "Ladies and gentlemen, my name's Larry Taggart, and I'd just like to say that I'm very pleased to be here. I've always been a fan of crime novels, although I know I'd never be able to do it myself. Or write a book, come to that." He waited for the laughter that rippled politely from one side of the room to the other. "Now, if you'd care to take your seats, dinner is about to be served. Following the main course, while you partake of the delicious dessert, the Awards proper will begin." He spread his hands like a conjurer about to perform a mind-bending trick. "Enjoy."
Maggie stared down at the second glass of whisky, then pushed it away. "You know, I don't feel like getting drunk tonight. And I'm hungry." She walked back towards the table, leaving Rick shaking his head in consternation behind her.
-
She opened her eyes, and stared into nothing for a long while. Then it occurred to her that it was dark, and perhaps that was why she couldn't see anything. There was noise somewhere, voices, music, but it seemed a long way off. She tried calling out, but her mouth was so dry she couldn't make more than a squeak.
But if she could get to them, attract their attention, maybe they could help her.
Rolling onto her hands and knees, she crawled forward, and only the pain registering in her head told her she'd hit a wall. Reaching out, she tried to find a door.
Something jabbed her in the arm, and she cried out, the sound barely reaching her own ears. Cold seemed to flow into her veins, and some part of her brain still working knew this wasn't good. She had to find help.
-
Maggie was making an effort. She was trying her best to show Rick that what she'd said was true, that she wasn't jealous about Kate Beckett. After all, he was right. They were good friends, old friends, and that wasn't going to change.
Occasionally she saw Rick glance at her from the corner of her eye, and once she caught him doing it, giving him a wide smile that almost persuaded him she was fine.
Almost. Instead of believing her, though, he was running her words through his mind, over and again, trying to make sense of them.
"Is he all right?" Martha asked Alexis, keeping her voice low enough so that nobody else could hear. "Those young women at the next table have been trying to get his attention for the last thirty minutes, and he hasn't even smiled at them."
"I know," Alexis said. "I'm beginning to think he might be coming down with something."
Martha nodded, watching the other two.
-
Daylight. No. Not daylight. But something resembling it. High sconces on the wall, flooding her eyes with brightness so she had to squeeze them shut. She hung onto the door, letting it take her out into the corridor with it.
Help. That's what she needed. Already she couldn't feel her feet, and the numbness seemed to be creeping upwards.
Blinking hard, she made herself look first one way, then the other, but there was no-one in sight. No-one to stop this happening to her.
Letting go of the door she fell against the wall, leaning on it as it appeared to tilt wildly, like in a funfair crazy house. More voices, though, and they seemed closer. Pushing herself upright with her hands, she staggered forward, towards the music.
-
"Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for Dominic Merchant, winner of the Best Newcomer in Crime category." Larry Taggart smiled widely, encouraging everyone to clap louder. The young winner blushed furiously and almost ran from the stage.
"You're up next," Rick whispered to Maggie, who clutched at his hand.
"You know, I almost hope not."
He smiled and let her hold on.
Taggart held up his hands, calling for quiet. "And now, we have the major award of the evening. Best Crime Novel of the Year." The room hushed. "As usual we have five nominees, and believe me when I say, it's been a hard choice this year. Each book is different, unique in its own way, and the standard is exceptionally high."
"Why doesn't he just get on with it?" Maggie ground out.
"However, after a lot of blood had been spilled, at least on the page, the awards committee eventually came to a decision, and I have it here." He brandished the gold envelope. "But first, the nominees are …"
He started reading the list, but Maggie wasn't listening.
"I knew I should have stayed at home." She tried to calm her breathing. "It's just a stupid award. And I could have lived down the photos."
"Not sure I could," Rick murmured, then grinned at her as she smiled slightly. "Okay, maybe I could. I've done a lot more crazy things in my life than that." He squeezed her fingers. "Good luck."
She nodded, her eyes fixed on the stage.
"… and finally, Erin McCarthy for Fortune's Fool." He waited for the applause to die down again, then lifted the envelope. "And the winner is …" Sliding a finger inside the sealed flap, he opened it up. Removing the card with a flourish, he read the words, then lifted his head, a wide smile on his face. "AJ Maguire for A Lying Smile!"
Martha and Alexis began to clap wildly, and Rick leaned forward, placing a kiss on Maggie's cheek.
"That's you," he said in her ear above the applause. "Better get up there."
She turned to stare at him, her face pale, and he could see her about to shake her head. "Rick, I -"
"Go on." He disentangled his hand from hers and gave her a slight push.
-
People. Lots of people. She couldn't see too well anymore, but the blobs had to be people. Some were on their feet, she was sure. They'd help. Get her to a hospital. Save her. Someone reached for her, but as much as she wanted to stop herself, she ducked under his arm, even as his voice reached her ears as if through a long tunnel.
-
Maggie stepped up to the microphone, the Patterson in her hand. Somewhat unimaginatively, considering it was a prize for fiction, it was in the shape of an open hardback book, one page lifted suggestively, on a stand of another three volumes. Idly she wondered what would happen if she dropped it, but decided not to try. She really didn't want a broken toe right now.
Looking up she could see an ocean of faces, some smiling for her, a few looking somewhat disgruntled – probably fans of the other nominees. But at least the people at her table were grinning widely.
Larry Taggart touched her elbow, motioning her to say something.
"I …" She stopped, cleared her throat. "I … thank you. All of you. This is an honour, and I honestly don't think I'm worthy of it."
"Excuse me, miss? You can't go in there."
A man's voice registered on the edge of her hearing, but she carried on talking, getting into her stride a little. "More than anything I'd like to thank all of those at McKinnon for their faith in me, and for not giving me too many editorial notes."
There was a low hum of laughter, but not loud enough to cover the voice again.
"Miss, this is a private function. You're not allowed … here, stop!"
There was a disturbance, and suddenly a woman staggered out in front of the stage, her arms in front of her as if she couldn't see where she was going. A guard tried to grab her, but she somehow managed to slip from under him, ending up right in front of Maggie. She stared, her mouth working, but no words came out. Then her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, falling to the floor like a bagful of disconnected bones.
Immediately there was uproar, and a number of people rushed forwards, one of them calling that he was a doctor and to stand back. Rick pushed through the crowd so he could see as the man checked her pulse, both at her wrist and her neck, then listened to her chest. Finally he sat back on his heels. "She's dead," he said into the sudden silence. "You'd better call the police."
Rick already had his cell phone out, speed-dialling the precinct, keeping his voice low as he asked to be put through to homicide. Behind him Martha was on her feet, her arms around Alexis, turning her away.
"This is Castle," he said when someone picked up. "Who's that? Ryan? Better get over to the Waldorf. There's been a death. A young woman. What? No, I don't know her name. But you'd better call Kate, because you're not going to believe who it is." He slid the phone closed then looked up at Maggie, still standing on the stage in shock, the Patterson gripped tightly in her hands.
Pushing his way back through the mass of people again he made it to the steps at the side of the stage, jumping up them and at Maggie's side in a moment. He put his arm around her, and could feel her trembling.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Oh, peachy." Maggie still stared at the body, getting a better view from up here than most everyone else. "This happens every day in my life."
"I'm hoping that was sarcasm."
"What, and it's a regular occurrence in yours?"
"Some days, yes." He saw her glance sharply at him. "And that's the point."
"What? What point?"
"I've seen her before," Rick whispered urgently.
Maggie stared at him. "You mean you know her?"
"No. But I've seen her body before."
"Rick, talk sense."
"Earlier today. Stuffed into a double bass case."
"What?"
"I know it sounds crazy. But I saw her."