"The Whole Sort of General Mish Mash doesn't actually exist either, but is just the sum total of all the different ways there would be of looking at it if it did." – Mostly Harmless, by Douglas Adams
Castle had everything Beckett needed by noon the next day. She had to hand it to him, his sources were incredibly efficient. She made a mental note to use "his guys" more often if she ever got back into her own universe. She was a bit put-out by having to wait so long after Alan Basher's death to start investigating, but she understood that it was the best she could do.
"You know this is one of the badges they actually used in Scream3?" said Castle with a smile, handing her a prop badge. Too difficult to obtain an actual police badge, she guessed.
"Thanks, Castle," she said, slipping it into the bag she was holding against her leg as she turned to leave. She was already planning out her first move- canvassing Alan Basher's apartment building to get details and figure out exactly what had happened.
"Whoa, where are you going?" he said, sticking a foot in the door as she tried to walk away. "I'm coming with you, aren't I?"
She deliberated. On the one hand, it would be refreshingly familiar to have Castle at her side, as her partner. On the other hand, this was a Castle sans all the "training" the Castle from her universe had. He'd never followed her before. He'd never followed a cop before, and all of his experience was with actors and singers.
"It'll be dangerous," she said, hoping she could scare him off without actually having to make a decision.
"I live for danger," he said with that familiar cocky grin.
"Fine," she sighed, walking out of his apartment and expecting him to follow her. After all, it could be useful to have someone around who understood more about this universe than she did.
Beckett couldn't stop looking back over her shoulder as she walked with Castle down the street to the address for Basher that she'd found in her address book. Rationally, she knew it was ridiculous- no one was after her (not yet anyway), and she was wearing dark sunglasses and a hat over her pinned up hair, minimizing the chances of someone recognizing her. For the first time, she really felt pleased about Natalia Rhodes' visit to the precinct a few months ago; at least she'd managed to pick up a few tricks.
"You wanna get a hot dog?" said Castle, indicating a hot dog vendor as they waited to cross the street. Trying not to smile, Kate considered tweaking his nose like she had the first time he'd ever asked her that question, purely for familiarity and fun. She reconsidered though, realizing that it would just confuse and probably anger him.
"Nah," she shrugged. Her stomach was rolling too much for her to feel hungry. "You can get one."
After that short detour, Beckett and Castle plus one foot-long frank headed across the street to Alan's apartment building. The place looked normal from the outside, but she was sure that the victim's actual apartment would be much busier with cop activity.
"How do we get in?" she pondered aloud as they stood outside the front doors to the building. Without a key, she would have to buzz someone who lived in the building to let her in. Kate frowned- this was a lot more difficult without police authority, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to pull out her fake cop persona so soon in their search, just in case it went downhill.
Castle hit the first button. "Pizza guy."
"Wrong apartment," answered back a static-filled voice.
"What are you doing?" said Beckett, staring at him.
"This is New York, somebody must've ordered a pizza," he shrugged, hitting the second button. "Pizza guy."
"No one ordered a pizza," said a different but equally static-filled voice.
He got lucky the sixth time he tried, and the door unlocked. He waggled his eyebrows at Kate, to which she just rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. It was nice- reminded her of the way the world was supposed to be.
"Alan lived on the fifth…" Beckett trailed off as a balding man stepped onto the elevator with them. She coughed, hoping he hadn't overheard, and jabbed at the 5 button. The three of them rode up in silence, and she slowly came to realize that on this excruciatingly long elevator ride, the balding man was staring at her like he recognized her but couldn't quite place her.
So much for my genius disguise. She flicked her eyes over to Castle, nodding in the smallest motions she could manage, trying to let him know that she might be recognized. He grinned, stepped around her, and held out a hand to shake.
"Hi, couldn't help notice you were staring. Yes, it's really me, Rick Castle." The man swerved his gaze, somewhat reluctantly, from Kate to the man standing in front of him.
"The writer?"
"Yup." He popped the "p" at the end of the word. "You want an autograph?" The balding man shrugged and pulled out a faded receipt from his pocket and a pen.
"Sure, my daughter's a huge fan." Castle started signing. "Hey, how come you wrote that Derrick Storm's show was cancelled? I mean, that's just a tragedy when an actor's show gets cut off, I was really mad."
"Sorry," mumbled Castle as the man took his autograph and walked out on the fourth floor. Beckett shot him a sideways glance as the elevator doors slid back shut, but she said nothing.
Kate dragged Castle down the hall towards Alan Basher's apartment, ducking to avoid eye contact with the cops grouped in the hallway. Fortunately for her, they seemed occupied with investigating the robbery across the hall and barely took notice as she stepped into Basher's apartment, on which the lock was broken.
The place was big- the kind a rich actor like Basher could afford. It was roped off with yellow tape (which she chose to ignore). "Alright," said Beckett, shutting the door behind her. "Let's get started."