A/N: The flu is not conducive to writing, although neither is a 1-year-old, and I never let that stop me.
"It just doesn't make any sense." Becket stared down the murder board, eyes jumping between the DMV photo of Caitlyn Madison and a picture of the two million dollar, busted up bottle of champagne. It was already late afternoon and all she had to show for it was a few unreturned phone calls.
"Does it ever make sense this early on?" pointed out Castle, handing her a steaming cup of espresso. She looked down to see what, if any, artistic creation he had infused into the foamy surface. It was becoming such a regular occurrence that it now only took about three minutes from the time he headed toward the break room to the time he placed the cup in her hand.
Slight disappointment spread across her face. "No hearts today?" She did her best to look genuinely hurt, but the ridiculousness of it all, being saddened by a missing heart, or flower, or panda bear in her coffee, made the pout hard to maintain.
"Oh look, it's there," Castle mused bringing his own hot drink up to his lips. Becket stared down into the cup, squinting her eyes, trying to conjure up an image as if she were looking at one of those hidden picture games. What were those called?
"It's not a stereogram you know. Squinting isn't going to make the picture come into focus." Of course he would know what it was called, Beckett thought. Castle leaned back against the desk looking as smug as ever.
"Then do tell," appealed Beckett, tilting the cup toward him in frustration. He snatched the cup and beckoned for her to scoot even closer to him along the desk, his nose inches from the surface of the drink, a master artist examining his work.
Pointing at the foam he began, "See that faint curve of espresso there? And the way the foam billows up over here?" Beckett scooted even closer until her thigh pressed against his; she inched her nose up to the rim of the cup. She still couldn't see anything. Castle let the silence build suspense, waiting until he saw Beckett about to throw in the towel and insist they get back to work. "Ready for it?" he asked.
"Yes. Can you just tell me already so we can get back—"
"Snowman in a blizzard." He tried to hold back a laugh. "Albeit a slightly dirty snowman in a blizzard, what with the espresso and everything."
"Seriously Castle, are we in second grade?" she laughed while trying to rebuke him. He could get away with so much because of his charm. Boy was she in trouble if they happened to have kids that took after their father, she thought, picturing little brown haired, blue eyed toddlers spinning theories as to why eating dessert before dinner was a good idea or why they thought it would be fun to put the pet turtle in the toilet. 'He just wanted to go swimming,' she could almost hear them say as a distraught turtle desperately tried climbing up the side of the bowl.
The phone rang and her mind was back in the precinct.
"Was that Esposito?" Castle asked as she set the handset back on the base.
"Yea. Canvas didn't turn up the missing bottle top."
"Which we expected," Castle interjected, hating to watch the frustration play out across her face.
"Ryan is out there with him. They got a list of all the employees working last night and actually talked with the door man who was on duty. Get this," she placed her hand on her hip and leaned forward, a sign that what she was about to say offered hope, "the doorman said Caitlyn left the club around one, but she was supposed to be there until three. They had some elite clients they were entertaining and Daniel always makes sure at least a couple of his girls are on sight to woo."
"By 'woo' I assume he meant make sure they pull out their wallets. Does the doorman know why she left?"
"No, but he did say she looked frazzled. The guys are bringing back security footage to go over to verify, but that account does match our time of death. And," she took a couple steps forward and leaned in close, relishing in the reveal, "CSU didn't come up completely empty handed. Along with a lot of mismatched prints from work books and sneakers in that alleyway, they also found fresh prints from, get this, two sets of high heals." She had a huge grin plastered across her face. To an outsider she probably looked like she just found out some life-changing news—a multimillion dollar inheritance, a job promotion—not a small piece of evidence in a murder investigation.
All around them the bullpen buzzed with movement, like it too was caught up in the excitement of the new information. "Two prints? Ah, a tale as old as time. Boy meets girl. They fall in love. Boy meets another girl; they also fall in love, and poof, someone winds up dead." Castle snatched the pictures of Daniel's two other girlfriends off Beckett's desk and stuck them to the board, listening for the satisfying click as the magnets collided.
"Only problem with that scenario is that this isn't a case of secret romances. All his girlfriends new what they were getting into when they started dating him."
"That doesn't mean jealousy can't rear it's ugly, potentially murderous head," Castle added, his gaze lingering on the two new pictures.
"Beckett?" Captain Gates popped her head out of her office, signaling toward the lounge. "Caitlyn's mom is here."
Victoria Madison slumped down into the black, faux leather couch, tracing the seams with her fingers. Her face was red and puffy, the product of spending the entire cab ride into the 12th precinct trying to hold back tears.
Castle and Beckett took their respective places in the room—Beckett in the green armchair cattycorner the couch and Castle directly across from the grieving woman. This part never got any easier. Beckett looked at the sadness and shock etched into the woman's face, and in that moment she was transported back to the cold, winter day in 1999, when she herself sat opposite a NYC homicide detective fielding questions about her mom. The disbelief, the feelings of injustice, the self-blame, the silent plea to God that you'll do anything to have that person back, all the raw emotions playing out across the woman's face were easily recognized by Beckett because she had been there too. It was a level of empathy she wished she didn't know.
Her gut told her Victoria Madison didn't have anything to do with her daughter's murder, but procedure dictated that everyone was a suspect. "I'm so sorry for your loss Mrs. Madison," she began, knowing that the words sounded hollow and too customary to be of any real comfort.
"Caitlyn was such a good girl," the older woman offered, choking back a sob. Castle extended the box of tissues and she pulled a couple out, wringing them in her hands instead of wiping away the tear streaming down her cheek. Beckett decided the best course of action was to press on so the woman could leave.
"Do you know if there was anything going on in your daughter's life that was troubling her?" Beckett asked, the question purposefully vague so as to not lead her.
"Nothing." The response was almost immediate. "I talked to her about a week ago. She seemed so happy, going on about some trip her and girls were going to take next month."
"By girls do you mean Daniel's two other girlfriends?" Castle asked tentatively, worried he might be touching on a sensitive topic.
"Yea. Samantha and Jennifer." She looked down at her tattered tissues and tucked them into her jacket pocket. "I know what you're thinking. It's what everyone thinks. That there must be some sort of tension with three girls dating one guy, but it wasn't like that at all."
"I take it you were okay with their situation?" Castle pressed
"Of course I was. I saw the opportunities that were opening up for her. Dating Daniel was just a career move for Caitlyn—for the other girls too I think. Daniel has connections in the modeling and entertainment industry. A lot of his former girlfriends end up making it big." Her voice took on a softer tone as she continued. "My baby wanted to be a runway model, in fact, it's all she ever talked about growing up. She begged me to take her to Paris for fashion week when she was ten. Told me it could be her Birthday and Christmas presents for the next hundred years. I was a single mom though, barely making rent for our one-bedroom apartment in Queens. I ended up buying her a cheap pair of dress-up high heels for her Birthday that year so she could practice her walk. I told her we'd make it to Paris one day in the future." New tears started streaming down her face again. Beckett didn't have to ask to know that they had never made it to Paris.
Beckett paused for a moment, giving the woman the time she needed to calm down, to bring her focus back to the interview. "Mrs. Madison, I hate to ask you this but do you know if Caitlyn had any history with drugs, gambling, any criminal activity—maybe she owed someone money?" She internally recoiled, waiting to see how much offense the mom would take from her question. Like many grief-stricken loved ones she'd interviewed before, Mrs. Madison answered her question calmly, too overwhelmed by the day's events to be phased by the implications.
"None that I was aware of. She was always pretty straight-laced, despite what you would think given her life choices. I think that's why Daniel liked her so much, why they worked so well together. She understood the business side of their relationship. The lifestyle, selling a particular image—it was her job and she treated it as such."
Beckett glanced over at Castle giving him the 'you got anything else you want to ask' look. He shook his head and stood up to leave, Beckett rising with him.
"Thank you Mrs. Madison." She reached out to shake the woman's hand, but instead ended up enclosing it between hers. "I'll contact you as soon as we know anything. And I promise, I will find out who did this to your daughter." It was a promise she didn't take lightly. Giving her victims a voice and bringing closure to the ones left behind—she knew it wouldn't take away the pain, but at least it would hopefully help people like Mrs. Madison to move on and live life. Not become so fixated on getting answers that it consumed everything, the way her mother's murder had done to her.
"Well that didn't offer any new insights," Castle said, plopping down in his chair next to Beckett's desk. "Just reaffirmed how awful it would be to lose a child." He shuddered, thinking of Alexis.
"This might help though," Ryan chimed in, walking out of the conference room with Esposito on his tail.
"When did you get back?" Castle looked between the two guys, his eyes lighting up as he remembered the ultrasound appointment. "So, will I be buying little pink or little blue onesies for baby Ryan?"
"Neither," he answered emphatically. "Please, no more baby onesies. I swear Jenny could open her own baby clothing store with how many we have spilling out of every drawer and closet."
"So the adult version then? Matching father/son, father/daughter outfits?" Castle joked. "I saw a really cute Valentine's day one online the other day. A baby cherub on the butt and little hearts covering up—"
"Bro," Esposito grimaced like he had a really bad taste in his mouth. "What you and Beckett do in your private life is not work-appropriate. Heck, it's not anytime appropriate."
Castle raised his hands defensively. "Research. It was just research," he looked over at Beckett, worried he'd be met with a mortified, disapproving glare. Instead, she had a big grin spread across her face, clearly enjoying him trying to explain his way out.
"Yea Castle," Ryan said deciding to get in on the fun, "we knew you were a kid at heart, but this takes the expression 'man-child' to a whole new level." Esposito held up his fist for Ryan to pound it, the two snickering the whole time.
"Okay, ha ha, funny, but it really is just research for my next Nikki Heat novel."
Beckett couldn't resist. "Let me guess. Rook buys Nikki a strategically placed heart onesie for Valentine's Day for some sort of twisted, kinky role-play."
"Woah, Beckett," Esposito whooped, lifting his arm for another fist bump.
"Seriously guys, you're all going to gang up on me? Beckett I expected more from you," he tried to dead-pan, hoping to sound more distraught then he really was. Truth be told, he didn't mind all the teasing. He found out during his first couple years working alongside them that teasing was their way of showing him he belonged, a hazing ritual, a rite-of-passage of sorts.
Beckett lifted her fist to pound it when a shrill voice cut through their laughter.
"What is this I am hearing about adult onesies and role-play?" Captain Gates peeked around the corner, not appearing nearly as amused as them. "Please tell me this is in some way case related." She stared each of them down, waiting for the weak link to spill. There was just silence. "That's what I thought." She turned to head back into her office. "Can we all get back to work then?"
The four of them sat there, eyes averted as they tried not to laugh, feeling like they were grade schoolers being reprimanded for talking during class.
"So boy or girl then?" Castle asked simply in order to avoid another lecture-provoking diversion.
"Jenny wants to be there when we tell everyone so what do you all say to The Old Haunt, as soon as we crack this case?" Everyone agreed.
"So what new insight do you have for us?" Beckett asked, turning her attention to Ryan.
"So I watched the video footage from the club, and just like the door man said, Caitlyn leaves right after one, but, just prior to her leaving she takes a phone call that is clearly upsetting." Ryan led them into the conference room and hit play on the VCR, a clear image of the inside of Club Couture filling the screen. "Right here," he pointed to a tall, blonde woman toward the edge of the shot. "At 12:58, she answers her phone and…" he trailed off letting the video do the talking. Off in the corner of the shot, their victim was wildly pacing the floor, a distinct grimace on her face. "And if we fast forward to just after one." The team watched as a distraught Caitlyn Madison shoved her phone into her purse and stormed out of the club.
"Rewind it for a second," Castle leaned in close to the screen watching the image play back in reverse. "Look at that."
"That looks like our murder weapon," Beckett noted, her eyes fixed on the bottle of champagne Caitlyn held in her hand. "And look at that; she just walks right out the front door with it in her hand."
"Talk about aiding and abetting in your own murder," Castle mused.
"Her purse hasn't turned up yet so we can only assume that the whoever popped her over the head also walked off with the purse," added Esposito. "Seems strange that they would take the purse and not the diamond though."
"Do we know whether Daniel or the other girls were at the club with her that night?" Beckett turned to Ryan and Esposito.
Esposito spoke up. "Both guest list and video footage confirm that only one other girlfriend was there with her." He looked down at his notes. "Jennifer Dobbs. The video shows her still in the club at the time of death. I also spoke with Daniel's publicist. She confirmed Daniel was across town last night prepping for the opening of a new club until early in the morning. All three girlfriends would normally have been at the club but one was home sick—a Samantha Roberts."
"Let's work on getting that alibi confirmed." Beckett seamlessly shifted back into leadership mode. "Also, I want to know who she was talking to right before she left the club. Whoever it was said something that was clearly upsetting." Beckett glanced at her watch; it was already nearing five. When did it get so late? "First thing tomorrow head out to Daniel's place and get statements from both Jennifer and Samantha. See if they can offer any insight into what was going on with Caitlyn. Castle and I will keep trying to track down Daniel and see what he can tell us."
The gang disassembled leaving Castle and Beckett to return to the murder board that was still frustratingly void of details.
"So I've been thinking," Castle said. He paused to look up at the board. Even without him speaking, Beckett could hear his brain churning, sprouting up who-dunnit theories that were more appropriate for science fiction fantasy novels than a real murder case.
"Let's hear it Castle." Crazy or not she still wanted to know his ideas. It was precisely his out of the box thinking that forced her to stay grounded in reason—the Mulder to her Scully.
A playful, devilish grin spread across his face and she knew she was in for a good story—not necessarily helpful insight, but at least entertainment. "Giant, albino alligators."
"What?" She rolled her eyes and sat down in her chair, swiveling it toward the desk. That was even more far-fetched than normal. And that said a lot given that 'normal' involved flesh eating zombies, alien abductions, CIA conspiracies, and time-traveling murderers.
Castle didn't seem bothered by her perfunctory skepticism—hell, he rather enjoyed it—and carried on with his story. "Everyone knows the sewers in New York are teaming with alligators. East Harlem, 1935, city workers pulled an eight-foot long alligator out of a man-hole. Central Park, 2001, police capture an alligator terrorizing park-goers. Brooklyn, 2006, a small alligator is found outside an apartment building hissing at pedestrians. They crawl out of the sewers at night and when you least expect it," he opened his arms up like two giants jaws and snapped them together.
"Castle that's just an urban legend." She didn't want to ask why he could recall so many specific alligator related incidents off the top of his head. "Besides, last time I checked, alligators weren't able to pick up and swing objects at people. How would an alligator manage to hold a champagne bottle?" She was just humoring him now.
"I guess someone has never seen Peter Pan." Castle smiled, feeling confident that he had gotten the last word in.
"That was a crocodile, Castle, not alligator. Maybe if you would have led with the crocodile theory I would have believed you." Her mood shifted from lighthearted to serious as she stared at the telephone on her desk. She had left a message with Daniel Henry's secretary earlier in the day and still hadn't heard back.
"A watched pot never boils you know. I don't think staring at the phone will make it ring any sooner."
"I'm starting to think an impromptu house call is in order," Beckett proposed, not one to normally wait for evidence, or suspects for that matter, to fall into her lap. "I know his secretary was saying he'd be in meetings all day, but you'd think a guy that just found out his girlfriends was brutally murdered would have higher priorities." Beckett scooped up her jacket off the back of her chair and handed it to Castle, a signal for him to help her slide it on.
"I've got an even better idea." Castle took the jacket from her and slid it gracefully over her arms, briefly stopping to flip her hair out from beneath the collar before he continued with his proposal. "A man like Daniel—a man who has built his fortune around conveying a specific image—isn't going to be very forthcoming in an interrogation room. And even if he was, he's not likely to tell you the truth, even about the most benign details if he thinks it will hurt his image." He stopped to assess Beckett's reaction to what he'd said thus far, knowing it was the next part she was likely to resist. So far so good. "I think you'd fare better getting information from him on his own turf—in an environment where he's prone to let his guard down a little.
"Okay, so you're suggesting I go interview him at his club." Beckett looked confused.
"Sort of, just instead of Detective Beckett interviewing a potential suspect it would be more like sexy and single Kate flirting up a guy at the bar." Beckett stopped in front of the elevator and swung around to face him. Her face read indignation, but Castle could tell she was considering the option, weighing its merits.
"Castle, you really think a guy who just lost his girlfriend is even going to be at his club tonight, let alone keen on flirting with anyone?" Castle pulled out his cell phone and opened up his e-mail inbox, holding up the screen for her read. On it contained an e-mail alerting all of Club Couture's elite clientele about an exclusive party the club would be hosting that night to announce expansion plans. At the bottom of the e-mail was written 'Come celebrate in memory of Caitlyn Madison.' "Wow, that's tacky." Beckett pushed the call button on the elevator, slightly warming up to the idea. If he wasn't afraid to put on a little show than neither would she.
"So that answers your first question." They stepped into the elevator and Castle slid dangerously close to Beckett, his fingers running circles around the back of her hand. "And to answer your other question Kate, 'do I think he'd be keen on flirting with anyone?" He grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him, realigning their bodies so that they were face to face, lips almost touching. " No. But you're not anyone."
The elevator doors opened into the precinct lobby. Castle released her hand and walked out, giving a quick nod to the security officer on duty. Beckett stood there for a moment, enjoying the lingering scent of his cologne, the afterimage of his lips inches from hers, before stepping out to follow Castle into the approaching darkness.
On the next installment: There will be dancing. There will be flirting. There will be major hiccups in their plans.