Kate Beckett stepped into the ballroom, pulled off her leather gloves, and thought, God. A couple of hundred people all like Castle. What did I do in a former life to deserve this? Or this one, for that matter. She looked around for one of her team, and saw Kevin Ryan standing at the other end by a small stage. He glanced up, saw her, waved. She started towards him, her eyes moving all the time, taking everything in.

The majority of attendees were standing at the edges of the room, being talked to by various uniformed police officers taking initial statements as to whether they heard or saw something suspicious that evening. Or more probably, as Kate was rapidly becoming used to, each giving their own account of what might have happened, from aliens to suicide. Those that had already been dealt with were huddled in small groups, trying to see exactly what was going on.

Kate prophesied a rash of novels in the near future with a woman dropping dead in the middle of a book award ceremony.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" A young man in his early twenties approached her. "Are you in charge?"

"Detective Beckett." She motioned towards the badge hooked over her belt.

"Larry Taggart. From Freshmen. You know? The comedy? On NBC? All about a group of students at college and the trouble they get into?" He seemed eager for her to acknowledge his fame.

"Sorry," she said, bursting the bubble. "I've never seen it."

"Oh." He looked dejected, then brightened. "Well, you've got something to look forward to, then, don't you? You can always catch up on the web." At her unchanging gaze he expanded, "The world wide web? The internet?"

She suppressed a sigh, and idly wondered if he generally finished his sentences on a question mark. Maybe that's what people liked about him. It made him seem all young and eager. Another one. Just like her neighbour. "Mr Taggart, I'm busy. Is there something specific you want to say to me? About the murder?"

"Well, I just …" He almost rolled his foot like a child. "I've got filming to do tomorrow, and I wondered how much longer we're likely to be? Only I've got to get my sleep, otherwise I'll have bags under my eyes, and the camera picks up that sort of thing, you know? Can't have my fans seeing me looking half dead, it just wouldn't do, would it?"

So he wasn't worried about the all-dead woman, just his career. "It'll take as long as it takes, Mr Taggart." She nodded towards a uniform standing close, and he hurried over. "Have you given your details yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure I could –"

She interrupted. "Take Mr Taggart and make sure he sticks around until we've finished with him," she ordered.

"But I –"

Question or not, she wasn't going to let him finish. "Now."

The police officer nodded, taking Larry Taggart by the arm and leading him back to the herd.

Esposito materialised by her elbow, half smiling. "Forty tables, ten seats each … that's four hundred guests whose business is murder. And that's not counting the waiting staff, the kitchens …" He sighed. "Can't we just arrest them all and weed out the innocent later?"

"Don't tempt me," Kate said. "And the only reason I'm not agreeing is because we don't have enough vans to get them all to holding." They'd reached the small group of technicians taking photos and measurements of the crime scene. "Although there's one I wouldn't mind throwing in a cell right now." She was staring at Rick Castle, standing by the bar, the dark-haired woman she'd seen earlier at his side. "What's he doing here anyway?"

Esposito checked his notes. "He's AJ Maguire's escort. That's her, with him."

"I know."

He raised an eyebrow but carried on. "Apparently Ms Maguire was accepting the major award of the evening when the vic staggered in. Collapsed right in front of her."

"So why is it so important I see this particular body? Considering how long it's taken me to get across town in Saturday night traffic."

"Oh, I think you'll want to." He moved a CSU to one side gently. "You'll really want to."

Kate looked down and felt her heart speed up slightly. "What the –"

"See?"

The body was of a young woman, and for a moment Kate was standing in a wind tunnel between high buildings, only this girl wasn't folded into a double bass case, but lying flat on her back, staring into the ceiling. Dark strawberry blonde hair was stuck to her face, probably by sweat, and while her hazel eyes weren't frozen, there was still an accusation hidden in them, that someone should have done something to prevent this. There appeared to be no outward sign of trauma, no blood on the MIT sweatshirt that was too big for her or on her tight jeans, but she was most definitely dead.

"Do you think I don't have enough work to do?" Lanie Parish complained, looking up from the body. "I do actually have a life sometimes. Unlike some people."

"I'm sure you do." Kate took a deep breath and held it before exhaling steadily. "So, what can you tell me?"

"Tell us," Rick Castle corrected, appearing at her elbow.

"Go away."

"No."

"You're a material witness."

"So that means I can't observe? Because I pretty much think if I call the Mayor he's going to –"

"Fine." If Kate's voice was a little more strident than normal, it was, she considered, to be expected. "Just stay out of my way." She turned back to Lanie. "I'm presuming the body from earlier didn't get off your table and walk here."

"No, she's still down in the morgue." The ME moved a lock of hair from the dead face. "Although I have to say I did wonder, just for a second."

"You rang up, didn't you?" Rick asked. "I know I would have."

Lanie didn't respond, just shot him a glare that he returned with a grin, knowing he'd caught her.

"So we've got two dead girls," Kate clarified, "identical looking. Twins?"

"Probably." Lanie shrugged. "I have known cases of people not even related looking the same, but not to this extent. Same hair colour, eyes, facial structure, height, about the same age … until someone tells me different then I'd say yes, they're twins."

"Two victims. One murderer?"

"Kate, I haven't even done the autopsy on the first victim yet, let alone this one. I can't say one way or the other yet."

"Best guess."

Rick looked shocked. "You're suggesting someone guesses?"

Kate ignored him. "Murder?"

"You know that's not how I work. Except …" Lanie spoke slowly, considering carefully. "I did notice, when we managed to get the first girl out of the case, there's some bruising around the neck."

"Strangled."

"Possibly." As a Medical Examiner, Lanie Parish was loathe to commit herself too soon. "But no signs on this one." She moved the sweatshirt to one side, showing nothing but unmarked, pale skin. "And most strangulation victims don't walk before dying."

"So a different MO."

"Most murderers stick with one method," Rick put in. "Serial killers might escalate, start with small things, killing animals, pets, then move on to other crimes against people before actually taking that final step, but they usually stick to one style. Gun or knife. Or knife or poison. They don't usually cross the line like this."

Lanie nodded, standing up and beckoning her assistants. "Usually. Again, I've seen variations, and one or two that didn't fit the profile, but I'd say you're more right than wrong."

"Too much research," he said, smiling at her.

"Oh, I doubt you can ever have too much of that." She watched them manoeuvre the body inside the black bag, then said quickly, "Hold it."

"What?" Kate was immediately at her side as she went back onto her heels.

Lanie ran a hand down the dead girl's arm, stopping just above the elbow. "There's something … a box of some kind. I saw it when they lifted her up, inside the sleeve."

"A cell phone?"

"Not sure." She tried to determine its shape, then fell back, sitting down on the floor.

"What is it?"

Lanie was examining the latex glove on her hand, checking the fingertips. "Something sharp. Very sharp."

"Did it get you?"

"I don't think so." But she didn't sound too sure.

Kate looked up at Ryan. "Get her to the hospital. Full blood work."

"Kate, it didn't get through," Lanie insisted.

"Humour me."

Ryan put his arm around Lanie's waist, helping her to her feet. "Come on. Better safe than sorry."

"Fine, fine." She glanced at the technicians. "Make sure you bag her hands, so whatever's inside the sweatshirt doesn't fall out," she ordered before letting Ryan escort her away.

"Is she going to be okay?" Rick asked, watching them go.

"Probably," Kate said. "Occupational hazard. There's not one of us who hasn't known someone been stabbed by a needle they weren't looking for. Or worse." Still, there was concern in her grey eyes.

"It's okay to say you care, you know," he said quietly. "It's not actually against the rules."

She glared at him. "And you're still a material witness, and until we've taken your statement I think you'd better go back and give moral support to your date, don't you?"

"Date? You mean Maggie?" He glanced back to where the other woman stood, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold. "She's not my date."

"Perhaps, but I think maybe she needs some support. Unless she's as shallow as you and doesn't really take in the fact that a woman dropped dead in front of her."

Torn between doing what was right and doing what he knew could be more interesting, Rick paused a moment, giving Esposito time to move in from between two uniformed officers.

"Boss, there's something I think you need to see," he said.

Kate nodded and started to follow. Rick took a step forwards, but a glare thrown over her shoulder at him made him pause. He knew he'd be able to get the information out of her eventually, but it wasn't the same as seeing it first hand. That was something he'd come to realise very early on in their rocky relationship. Reading – or writing – about it and seeing the corpse wrapped in a rug, or lying in a rowboat … it wasn't the same thing at all. And sometimes it niggled him that he thought it was more fun.

Of course, so far he hadn't been anywhere near the truly disgusting murders, with dismemberment as part of the package, or a body turned to goo because it hadn't been found soon enough. But a part of him wondered if he'd feel the same way, that the excitement at dealing with a new crime outweighed the human cost.

And that human cost currently included Maggie.

He walked towards her, noticing her hands rubbing up and down her arms. "Here," he said, slipping out of his black jacket and hanging it around her shoulders. "It's shock," he explained.

She looked into his blue eyes. "Don't you feel it too? I mean, she's dead."

"Of course I do," he insisted, and pushed the treacherous little voice back down that he might just be lying.

She peered at him, as if she was trying to read his thoughts off the back of his head, and he hoped she didn't see something that sickened her, but oddly enough she seemed satisfied, and nodded. "So," she said quietly. "Twins?"

"Seems likely."

"Strange."

"Mmn."

"If this was a novel, I think my publisher would call it far-fetched."

"Mine too. Wherever she is." He glanced from side to side, half expecting Gina to appear in a puff of black smoke and accuse him of orchestrating the whole thing.

"I think she's gone. They're letting some of them leave, once they've taken details."

"Is that where Alexis is?" He looked around for his daughter, more shocked that he'd forgotten her than that a dead body had just been carried out.

Maggie nodded. "Martha took her home."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"And miss all the fun?" She smiled shakily.

He put his arm around her and squeezed gently. "That's my girl."

"Actually Alex didn't want to go at all. She said if she stayed she might have a better understanding of what you see in Kate Beckett."

"Maggie –"

"She's very efficient, isn't she?"

Rick sighed inwardly, but only nodded. "Yes, she is."

"Good at her job."

"Very."

"No wonder you based Nikki Heat on her." She wrinkled her nose slightly. "And I have to say, that's a terrible name."

"It's a great name!"

"So the books are going to be called things like, oh, I don't know … Tropical Thunder? In The Heat of The Day? Or maybe … Hot Sex?"

He glared at her, wondering just how she'd got to know him so very well. "No."

"Oh? Well, good." She looked back at the people still being busy around the crime site. "Except you do have a thing for titles like that. I mean … Gathering Storm? Or even Storm Fall?"

She was laughing at him, and although he was severely tempted to pinch her, he contained himself. "My public seem to like them."

"Rick, your public would like it if you still wrote crap."

"Still?"

She smiled, relaxing a little. "So. Twins." She steered back to the matter in hand.

"Apparently. And far-fetched. I think we agreed on that."

"Only, you know, this doesn't feel right."

"Dead bodies usually don't."

She sobered again. "No. I mean … something else is going on."

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Your Spidey-sense tingling?" She'd always had a good nose for things, which was one of the reasons they'd become friends in the first place. Otherwise she might have told on him.

"Mmn."

"What about?"

"I'm not sure. But you said you'd already seen this woman dead once."

"Yeah, earlier today. Stuffed into a double bass case."

"But don't you think that's a coincidence of googolplexic magnitude?"

"Maybe." He leaned closer. "You saying we're being blind-sided?"

"Perhaps." She looked into his blue eyes. "What else is going on here tonight?"

He shrugged. "No idea. But I might be able to find out."

---

Kate studied the ear-ring on the floor, a yellow plastic number next to it. "Looks the same," she said, standing back up and looking at Esposito. "Our vic was only wearing one."

They were in a large linen closet, metal shelves piled high with tablecloths, napkins, and other assorted dining paraphernalia.

"The door wasn't locked," Esposito explained. "Never is, not during a function. There's people in and out all the time, getting fresh supplies. If she was dumped here, it was only a matter of time before she was found."

Kate shook her head. "It's too neat. Why would anyone want her found? If you think she's dead, why not dump her in the river? It's easier, and traditional. Too many possibilities of forensic evidence being found otherwise. And if this was an accident, why not take her to the Emergency Room?" Something wasn't adding up, and it was like an itch she couldn't scratch. "Is there CCTV around here? Maybe we can get a picture of our perp bringing her in."

"I've got someone talking to the manager right now. No cameras in this corridor, but this leads down to the kitchens and a delivery bay, and the exits there are covered."

"Good." Looking down at the ear-ring again she worried at her lip. "As soon as you can, get a photo around all the hotel staff. If she's a guest they must know which room she's in, or if she's visiting, then with whom."

"On it." He paused, then said, rather diffidently, "You know, if we knew who she was, who they both are, I mean for sure …" Esposito left it hanging, the unspoken words reaching out to her.

"Damn." She sighed heavily. "Okay. Do it. Ask him. Only … not where I can see. He's only going to gloat."

Esposito dropped his head to hide the smile.

One of the junior detectives coughed to get their attention, and Esposito stepped to the doorway, leaving Kate on her own staring at the ear-ring.

As much as she hated to admit it, it looked like Castle was probably right. Assuming that the first girl was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time now seemed less likely, and all the neat ends were unravelling. She didn't quite stamp her foot, but very nearly. She hated it when he turned out to be correct. Then a small smile lifted her lips. At least she'd have the pleasure of informing him that this time they knew it wasn't Merrick Canfield who was responsible. He was probably still on stage at the Blue Cat club.

Esposito hurried back to her side, a strange look on his face.

"What?" she demanded.

"You're not going to like this."

"So far I haven't exactly enjoyed any of my day off," she pointed out. "Tell me."

---

"Sheik Amar Ben Arami." Rick whispered in Maggie's ear.

"Bless you."

He raised an eyebrow at her, then went on, "He's staying here, and it's rumoured he's got a diamond necklace with him that he intends to give to his new bride."

"Diamonds?"

"Big." Rick mimed them with his hands. "Quail egg-sized."

"Vulgar."

"Expensive."

"And you think –"

"Classic misdirection. Everyone's looking down here at the dead girl, while someone has it away on their toes with rocks worth enough to buy you the small island country of your choice."

"Hadn't you better –"

"Already did. Kate's on her way up to the Presidential Suite as we speak."