Title: The Affairs Of Dragons
Chapter: TWO
Author: Cyn
Summary: Do not meddle in the affairs of Dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.
Catergory: Boondock Saints/Castle X-over
Disclaimer: Not real. Lies, I tell you. Complete and utter lies. ;)
Author's Notes: Constructive criticism always welcome. Flame on if you must, but I tend to be fire retardant. Besides, I don't offend easily and I usually just delete what I don't like anyway, so why waste time and energy.
Email:
And now, on with the story. . .
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Connor MacManus yawned and stretched as he pulled himself out of bed. Murphy was still face down in the pillow on the next bed, dead to the world. Connor moved to the crappy coffee maker next to the crappy microwave in the crappy motel they had been laying low in for several days now. Making coffee would at least aide in waking him up and hopefully the smell would rouse his slumbering twin.
After setting up the coffee maker, Connor then moved out toward the ancient pay phone near their room. He lit a cigarrette as he walked to the pay phone. He dialed Doc's number and waited for him to answer.
"McGinty's." Doc answered.
"Doc."
"C-connor?" Doc said. Connor then heard a muffled "fuck" and "ass" before Doc continued. "Where the f-f-fuck are you boys?"
"Not far." Connor shrugged. "Why?"
"I got a call from the NYPD this morning."
"What the fuck for?"
"They were asking about a man that came into the bar yesterday asking me questions about you boys."
"What kind of questions?" Connor frowned. "Was he a cop?"
"N-n-n-no." Doc stuttered. "A w-writer. Name was Richard C-c-caswell or something like that."
"What did he want?"
"He was doing research on a book he wants to write." Doc said without a single stutter. "The cop that called this morning said that he didn't get back to them like he was s-s-s-s-supposed to."
"And, he was asking about us?"
"Y-yeah." Doc stuttered. "He's writing a damn book or something, about - FUCK! ASS! - the 'Saints' of South Boston or some shite like that."
"And, he's missing, you say?"
"That's why they called me."
"Okay, Doc." Connor said pursing his lips. "We're probably going to head back into town."
"That's t-too dangerous."
"If this man is missing because of us, we have to come back and find him before anything happens to him." Connor explained.
"Just be c-c-c-areful."
Connor hung up the phone and turned back to the crappy motel room to wake up Murphy.
"This oughta be interesting."
~~o~~
"Liaison?" Beckett huffed as she exited the airport terminal.
"Detective Beckett?"
Beckett turned to see a tall man in a leather coat walking toward her.
"Detective Greenly?"
"In the flesh." Greenly smiled. "My car is right over here." He smiled again. "Take your bag?"
"No, thanks."
"So, you must be tired after your flight." Greenly began. "I'll just take you to your hotel and you can -."
"No, I need to head to the station." Beckett interrupted. "If Castle has gotten mixed up with something involving these 'Saints', I'd like to go over your case history. Castle and I are friends and his daughter is depending on me bringing her dad home as soon as possible. That's what I intend to do, so if you would."
"Of course." Greenly said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Beckett saw it, didn't like and made a note to find out what the problem was - soon.
~~o~~
Waking Murphy had been much like waking the dead. Connor was about to resort to throwing cold water in his twin's face when Murphy grumbled something about along the lines of 'get the fuck off me' and sat up in his bed ready to swing.
"Get the fuck up." Connor said. "We have to get back to Boston."
"What the fuck for?" Murphy asked his voice gravely from sleep. "We're wanted in Boston. Why the fuck would we need to go back there?"
"I called Doc this morning." Connor began. "He said that some writer came by the bar asking him questions about us. Wants to write a book or something." Murphy yawned and stretched as Connor explained their need to return to Boston. "The NYPD called Doc's place this morning said that the guy has not been heard from since he left Doc's place yesterday."
"So?" Murphy said around a yawn.
"He's missing because of us, genius." Connor explained. "We need to go back and find him just so's the police and feds don't think it was us."
"And?"
"And, it wasn't the Boston PD that called Doc." Connor explained. "It was the NYPD. Which means this guy isn't from Boston. We need to find him and get his ass back to New York so that things fucking cool down."
"Okay. Okay." Murphy said shaking his head. "Whatever. What's the plan?"
"Head to Boston."
"And, then?"
"We're probably going to have to deal with the Yakavettas again most likely." Connor shurgged. "If he was pinched, odds are it was the Yakevettas trying to find us."
"Fan-fucking-tastic." Murphy said with an exaggerated eye roll. "Just what I wanted to do today. Deal with the Yakavettas."
"Yeah." Connor started stuffing clothes into the duffel bag next to his bed. "Fan-fucking-tastic."
~~o~~
Beckett spent the better part of her first morning in Boston scouring the contents of the case file of the so-called 'Saints'. Vigilantes, she thought, nothing more than men who have deemed themselves judge, jury, and executioner. It was crap.
"Crap." She said under her breath.
"Excuse me?" Detective Duffy asked.
He and Dolly and Greenly had been sitting by watching as Kate Beckett sifted through all the case files from the original case. They all watched as one gung-ho NYPD cop threatened to drag all their skeletons out of the closet.
"These so-called Saints?" Beckett began. "There are laws for a reason. They have no right to just put themselves in charge and decide who dies and who lives?"
"No argument from me, lady." Dolly agreed. "But, the Yakavettas are damn near untouchable. If you ask me, -. "
"Nobody asked you." Duffy interrupted. "The 'Saints' aren't the issue here. Mr. Castle's safety is paramount here, right?"
"Yeah." Greenly offered. "Just because the guy disappears while checking out the 'Saints', that don't mean that was the reason he disappeared. It ain't like the 'Saints' took him or nothing."
"Shut it, okay." Duffy said giving Greenly a meaningful look.
"What we need to do is check out all the places in this report where the 'Saints' were known to have had a connection." Beckett said. "I think we should go talk to the bartender at McGinty's again. Maybe he can remember something that will help us out." Beckett's phone chirped.
"Beckett."
"So, these 'Saints' are regular urban legends in Boston." Lanie Parish began. "And they have one hell of a following online. You should check out some of the pro-Saints sites. Unbelieveable."
"What about on the Saints themselves?" Beckett said. "Anything that could help identify them?"
"Nothing."
"There has to be something."
"If there is, it's well hidden." Lani said. "No forensic evidence was ever found. Not even a drop of blood and we know that the Saints were injured during a shoot out between them and a group of men at a private residence they raided a few months before the execution of 'Poppa Joe' Yakavetta at his trial 10 years ago." Lani paused a moment. "According to the forenics on that, the Saints covered their blood spatters with amonia to make any sample found unsuable."
"Damn." Beckett muttered. "It's like they know what we would look for and how to counter it."
"That's what I was thinking." Lani said.
"Cops?"
"Dunno." Lani said. "Sounds like a good place to start."
"Okay. Thanks Lani." Beckett said.
"Oh, and just so you know." Lani said. "I read the report on the shooting at the Yakvetta trial. According to descriptions of the Saints, they are about 5'11', both of them. They're similar in appearance as well. The older man that was with them had to be over 6'. He would be in his mid to late 60s according to descriptions from witnesses. Might help narrow the search a bit."
"Alright. At least it's some kind of start." Beckett hung up and turned to find all three detectives listening intently to her side of the phone call.
~o~
After Notes: Since there is no Irish-to-English dictionary - at least none that the local Borders had in stock - I don't write the MacManus' with an Irish accent. Sorry. :(
You're just going to have to use your imagination as to how they sound. It annoys me as a reader and takes forever for anyone to figure out when they're written with a bunch of "ye", "innit", et al, so I don't do it.