A Fly in the Garden: Chapter 3
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Friday, February 19, 2012 – 12:03 p.m. – At Mel's Diner in San Francisco on Geary Street
Mel's Diner is a throwback to a long-ago era, serving breakfast and burgers and sandwiches, of course. But it's the shakes, the fountain drinks, the malts – and of course – the atmosphere that attracts locals year-round. Richard Castle and Kate Beckett sit here with Detective Jennifer Blackard, as planned. The only change is that Alexis has joined them. She's on a four day weekend for President's Day, and Mel's is one of her favorite spots in the city.
"Pineapple shakes?" Jennifer snickers approvingly, gazing at the large glass sitting in front of Richard Castle.
"I told you," Kate laughs, but a punch in the arm doesn't allow her to finish her comparison of a glucose-infused adolescent with the man who sits beside her.
"Best in the world with a good burger," Castle smiles, defending himself. "And you can get both of those here."
"True, true," the detective smiles again, as she watches him take a large slurp of the tropical shake.
"So what's the story with you two?" Jennifer asks suddenly, causing a small gulp from Castle and a smirk from her old friend. Both give her a round of nervous laughter.
"Are you engaged?"
"No," Kate replies.
"Are you serious?" Jen asks.
"Absolutely," Castle replies quickly.
"And how long has this been going on? How long have you been going out?"
They both laugh, knowing that it really depends on who you ask.
"Some would say a couple of months," Castle replies easily.
"But we've kind of danced around it for a bit," Kate adds, smiling at Castle.
"What's a bit?" Jennifer asks, now sensing blood in the water. Her smile is not all-together calming. Not at all.
"Around two years or so," Kate tells her.
"Wow, that's a lot of dancing," Jennifer exclaims, holding a smile back that threatens to crack her face in half. Now she gets a wee more serious.
"I like you Rick," she tells him. "I just want to know what your intentions are with my friend here."
"That's funny," Alexis says, joining the conversation with a playful smirk. "I just want to know what her intentions are with my dad."
"Well, at least we know where the lines are drawn," Castle says, and the table erupts in laughter. It is short lived, as they soon get down to business.
"So, tell us what you know about Grayson Hamilton," Kate begins, and immediately the San Francisco detective offers a quick glance at the young red-headed teenager at the table.
"She's fine," Castle tells her quickly. "If there are young women going missing in the area, then I want Alexis fully prepped and aware." Jennifer nods in understanding, and begins.
"Over a month ago – she went to a concert, ended up taking a bus home. Never made it. That's what we know, believe it or not," she tells them, and the frustration is evident in her voice and on her face.
"Pamela Hamilton didn't give us much more," Kate tells her. "We do know that she transferred a couple of times. Her text messages tell us that much."
"Yes, we knew that as well," Blackard agrees. "The only pattern we have noticed is that – in many of the cases – buses are involved."
"Many? But not all?" Castle asks.
"In nine of the cases we know of, the women got on a bus. That was the last they were seen," Jennifer replies.
"What about the other two cases?" Kate asks.
"Nothing firm," replies Jennifer, brushing a hand through her hair. "They could have been on a bus or not. We just don't have any information. They just vanished."
"People don't just vanish," Castle remarks. He is skeptical right now. Something isn't fitting. It's like the story has a blank page. Blank pages don't just appear.
"I know that, I know that," the SFPD detective agrees. "Believe me, we all want to solve this?"
"Are you sure, Jen?" Kate asks. "I mean, has anyone important to anyone of power been taken? Because that's all it takes, you know this. Get one daughter of a mayor or a police chief or a city councilperson taken – and then all of the sudden, things start happening."
"I know what you mean – but no," Blackard replies. "All just regular people. Business people. Taxpayers. Their daughters gone."
"Well, if the last place most of them were seen was on a bus, then that brings up a few possibilities," Kate continues.
"Yes, we are working options there," Jennifer tells them.
"What options?" Alexis asks. She's cognizant of the fact that Detective Blackard letting her even be a part of this conversation is a significant allowance on her part. She's trying to stay in listen mode as much as she can.
"Well, first," Blackard tells her, looking her directly in the eyes, "San Francisco MUNI is somehow involved in the abduction of young ladies."
"That sounds preposterous just hearing it," Kate objects, and Jennifer nods her head in agreement.
"I know, Kate –"
"Well, maybe not so preposterous," Castle remarks pensively.
"Uh oh," Kate chuckles, drawing a smile from Alexis. "I sense a writer's mind reappearing here."
"Your keen detective sense is spot on, as usual," Castle smiles in return.
"What are you thinking, Rick?" Jennifer asks.
"Just musing aloud," he replies. "Don't let me interrupt you, Detective Blackard. Keep going. What other options?"
Clearly, however, Castle is mulling something over. Both his daughter and his new love have seen this face, this preoccupation. Kate, knowing him well enough, decides to let him work it out. Richard Castle is never one to be shy about spouting wild opinions and ideas, so she knows this is something for him to give such serious consideration to without talking it out loud.
"Another option is someone is trolling the buses, looking for potential victims," Jennifer continues.
"That sounds far more likely," Kate agrees. "Any timeframe when we think the women are being abducted?"
"That much we do know," Jennifer tells them. "Virtually every disappearance occurs late at night, or in the wee hours of the morning."
Castle is quiet, mulling over this new information as Claire, the waitress, arrives with a full platter of food. After burgers and a patty melt sandwich are handed out, the group begins to eat. For the next few minutes, all four have taken a sabbatical from their discussion, but their minds still race while eating.
Kate is the first to bring the discussion back to the forefront.
"Okay, so whoever is doing this is picking off women – alone – and at a time when there probably aren't a lot of people around."
"No witnesses," agrees Jennifer.
"They are catching them either getting on or getting off the buses," Kate continues.
"Which means you should be looking at bus stops," Alexis chimes in. "Or bars at bus stops." All three adults stare at her for a moment.
"What? What?" Alexis asks, her eyes going from face to face as each breaks into an appreciative smile.
"Well, are you?" Kate finally asks.
"More or less, Kate," Jennifer replies, a little embarrassed. "Kate, between buses and trolleys and light rail . . . there are thousands of bus stops. There are over two million riders a year on MUNI. You want the proverbial needle in a haystack analogy, it is the San Francisco MUNI system. Looking at bus stops? Staking out bus stops? A better solution would be to put someone on the buses themselves."
"Why don't you?" Castle asks, finally rejoining the conversation.
"Because most of the buses already have video surveillance, and MUNI contracts with armed security guards to protect their fare collectors," Jennifer responds. "Most important, however, is the sheer amount of money to put security personnel on the more than seven or eight hundred buses in use."
"People are getting kidnapped," Kate remarks dryly.
"Yes," Jennifer continues, "but as you already noted, no one that comes from big money. No one that would cause the necessary outcry from someone with the funds to do something like that."
Kate nods, while noting the look of horror on Alexis' face. While Kate is no stranger to the limited budgets that police departments must operate within, the young girl is getting a lesson in City Budgets and Bureaucracy 101. To hear that the public transportation falls in that same category is no revelation at all.
All fall quiet again for a moment, lost in thought and in delicious burgers and shakes. Castle finally breaks the drought.
"Well, we won't solve this all today," he begins. He doesn't want to say more until he sees data. He needs to confirm something pricking at the back of his head.
"Can I ask a favor though, Detective Blackard?" he continues. "Since this has now reached its tentacles to the Castles, our complex in Sausalito, and impacted one of my guests – is there an official or unofficial way Kate and I can see the data that you have? Specifically each of the people taken, and the last known locations or things they were doing?"
Detective Jennifer Blackard smiles, reaching into her large purse.
"You didn't think I came here to lunch empty handed, did you?"
Friday, February 19, 2012 – 8:49 p.m. – At Richard Castle's Sausalito Home
The couple sits on the large balcony overlooking the waters separating Sausalito from the San Francisco peninsula. Each holds a wine glass in their hands. They've been munching on snacks, delaying their departure for one of the local restaurants now for the past hour. Instead, they simply enjoy the silence, the company.
Alexis is out with friends and won't be back for a while. Castle is about ready to throw in the towel for dinner this evening when a large growl penetrates through Kate's blouse in her stomach region, casing both to break out into laughter. Castle uses this moment to finally touch on something that has been on his mind since their earlier discussion at Mel's.
"Jennifer asked some good questions, you know," he begins.
"She's a detective," Kate remarks with a soft smile. "We kind of do that, you know."
"I was talking about her questions regarding you and I," he corrects her. "My intentions for you? Remember?"
"How can I forget?" she laughs.
"You do know that engagement, marriage, family – all of that is what I want for us," he remarks, surprising her with his sudden candor. "You do know that, don't you?"
She turns to gaze at him directly, smiling.
"Yes, it's what I want, too."
"Good, good. Just want to make sure," he nods happily. "We haven't really talked about it in the past couple of weeks. And I'm okay with that, because we are kind of dating now, learning more and more about each other and –"
"Still test driving your new toy, eh Castle?" she kids.
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?
"Never," she chuckles, now nibbling on his ear.
"I'm in no rush, Rick," she continues, letting him off the hook. "I am enjoying this . . . you're right, it's just dating. Something we never did. I mean, I don't want to be sitting here a year from now in the same situation with nothing changed, but I know we need to take time."
"Thank you," he tells her, and he can tell that the relief on his face is slightly concerning her. He rushes to put her fears to rest.
"I've been married twice. You know this. Neither took. Now if you ask me why the marriages failed, I would tell you one thing. Meredith or Gina would say something else. The truth is somewhere in the middle. And I need to find that middle, Kate. To see where I screwed up. To see what I did wrong. So I don't repeat those mistakes with you."
"It's not all you, Rick," she says laughing. "I've been hopping from one relationship to another over the past few years – and each time I knew it wasn't what I wanted. But by the time I figured that out, I was in knee deep. And they were comfortable."
"It's hard to break out of comfortable," he agrees.
"I tried, with Tom. Didn't quite work out."
"What do you mean?" he asks.
She sits up now, turning to face him. She takes another sip of the red wine, enjoying both the taste and the view.
"Two years ago – you left for the summer with Gina. I had just broken up with Tom, hoping to take you up on your offer to go to the Hamptons.
She almost – almost – enjoys the color draining from his face.
"Oh Kate, please tell me you are joking."
"I wish I were joking," she replies softly, never wavering in her gaze. "I know there is nothing we can do about it now, but had I broken it off with Tom a day earlier, or if you had waited a day before asking Gina – who knows, we might have been where we are two years ago."
For a moment, Castle is quiet, and the silence raises him to his feet as he walks along the balcony, glancing over the waters in the distance.
"No, I think things have worked out exactly as they were meant to work out," he says finally, with confidence. "Everything we have gone through, and done to each other, was – heck, I don't know – conditioning? Preparation? Laying the foundation for something special."
"Laying the foundation?" she remarks, surprise in her voice.
"Have you ever done that, Kate?" he asks. "Have you ever laid a – scratch that, have you ever watched a foundation being laid? I did that. Back in high school. Summer job upstate – working for a friend's dad. He was a homebuilder, and we laid foundations."
He is smiling with the memory, a story forming in his mind. It's a familiar place for her now. A comfortable place.
"It's a messy job, Kate, with big – and I do mean huge machinery. You have to line things off, measure precisely, build your borders, pour, spread, scrape. It doesn't happen overnight. It doesn't happen without a lot of sweat. The best part about it was the finished product. And the paycheck every week. But the work – that was hard stuff, Kate. You and I? We were hard stuff. But we were worth the finished product."
"And the paycheck," she smiles, patting him on the rear playfully.
"I know you are serious," he continues, "because you moved out here. With no promises from me, with no commitment from me. I just want you to know that that meant so much. It gave me so much hope for us. You surprised me."
"I surprised me, too," she says, and now they are both laughing again. It is something that they do easily now. The laughter turns to chuckles, the chuckles to grins. And then the silence returns.
"You're quiet," he says moments later.
"So are you."
"Where are you?" he asks her.
"Thinking about those missing women," she admits.
"Me, too," he tells her.
"I wonder why it hasn't gotten more press?" he asks aloud. "Eleven women – a broadcast here or there and then nothing – just brushed under the rug."
Sure enough, there had been no further mention of it on tonight's early evening news – which surprised both of them.
"It's too bad we aren't in New York City," she muses aloud.
"Why?" he asks, his long-dormant insecurities about longevity with Kate Beckett beginning to resurface. She seems to sense this and quickly amends her thoughts.
"It's just that if we were in New York, you would have called Bob by now, asking him why his office wasn't putting greater visibility on something like this."
He smiles. She's right of course. Were they in Manhattan, he would have called Mayor Weldon and pushed an awful lot of uncomfortable questions at his friend. Suddenly he smiles at her.
"That's a great idea," he tells her as he takes his phone out. He glances at his watch. It's almost midnight there. This will be fun. But whether intentional or not, Kate Beckett is right. Castle would be handling this differently were they on the east coast. But Bob Weldon is a social animal. The chances – the odds that he might personally know the mayor of a rival city across the country actually aren't that long. It's worth a try at least.
He chuckles as he hears the groggy voice on the other end while Kate reaches for the manila folder containing the papers provided by Detective Jennifer Blackard, ready to give them another once-over.
"Bob," Castle greets his old friend. "Surely you aren't in bed on a Friday night before midnight in the city that never sleeps."
Friday, February 19, 2012 – 11:12 p.m. – At Pier 39 on Fisherman's Wharf
Lisa Ward has had one drink too many as she walks out of the festive bar down on Pier 39. The tourist haunt is filled with restaurants, bars and souvenir shops, all of which have just closed some twelve minutes ago. Thankfully she – like many San Francisco citizens, didn't drive here to the Pier for dinner with friends – not with one of the best public transit systems in the world.
Her sister, Claire, has just stopped in the public restroom upstairs, leaving Lisa downstairs seated on the bench, smiling, reliving the evening. She doesn't notice the laughter from the group approaching from behind her – laughter and revelry is a common thing down here at the wharf. She does – just barely – feel the prick in her neck as she grabs for the offending device before everything goes hazy. She feels herself lifted and quickly walking – or being dragged away – by the laughter. Suddenly, she is rolling away and she vaguely realizes she is in a wheelchair. The laughter continues as she passes by tourists also departing the Pier, smiling at the slightly intoxicated young lady being pushed in a wheelchair by her friends.
A minute later, Claire walks out of the restroom, and another minute later, she is standing at the bench, turning in all directions, frantic, wondering where her younger sister has wandered off to now.