Esposito arrived at the morgue to find Ryan and Castle, much to his chagrin, chatting with Lanie already in her workspace; Bodega Stalker Victim Number Three was laid out on the slab, neatly draped but not in the deconstruction stage of autopsy. Worth it, he decided as he adjusted his shirt collar and walked in. 'What's the good word, Lanie?'

'In general, obelischolychny. For our visit, soda pop. All three victims had this particular brand of soft-drink in their system, so I did a little online snooping. Three places in Manhattan sell it. The Beverage Bar in Madison Square Garden, the in-house cafe at the Puerto Rican consulate and the Nuyorican, same place all three of your victims were known to be regulars, right?'

'That's right.' Ryan flipped out his notepad, scanned the names. 'First one was Leia Finch, store regular. Second was part-time counter chef Fredo Satipo, and third was homeboy here, Brandon Weaver, cousin by marriage to the owner.'

'Did they get a bad batch?' Esposito forced himself to focus on Lanie's bulletin, ignoring how Castle stared at his face. He was used to Castle's eccentricities, but this was weird even for him.

'Beckett scored some sample bottles from the same case as these ones. All came up clean which made me think, and look for any unusual marks on the body.' Now she moved over to the table, threw back the discreet drape to reveal the post-Y incision body of Brandon Weaver in all his corpsy glory. With gloved hands she pointed out purple veins across the victim's lower belly, as well as down the insides of his thighs and arms. 'Found this on all three of the victims, which makes me think-'

'Spider-man Poison,' Castle filled in.

Ryan furrowed his brow. 'What's that?'

'It's a combination of three separate benign chemicals that you mix together to make one very lethal combination. In a high enough dose, you get veins popping out on your arms and legs and little clusters of veins turning purple in more sensitive area.' When Castle glanced over at Esposito, he squinted at him a little, making Esposito want to lose his mind.

'You stop at a bakery before coming here?'

'What?'

'You got a jelly doughnut souvenir on your mouth,' Castle said, tapped the side of his lower right lip.

Shit. Had he been in there the entire time with Meredeth's lipstick on his face? Esposito hastily rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, a move that didn't go unnoticed by Lanie. She recovered Mr. Weaver and stripped off her gloves to grab a file but instead of passing it over the slab she walked around, strategically placed herself between Esposito and the other two.

'Toxicology for all three victims, along with my official findings on Mr. Weaver. Now scurry along boys, I have paper work awaiting. Not so fast, Don Juan,' she murmured to Esposito when he went to leave, merely holding up a finger to stop him in his tracks. When Ryan and Castle had gone through the doors, Lanie turned, folded her arms across her chest and smiled coyly.

'What's her name?'

'Whose name?'

'The owner of the lipstick you had on your mouth.'

'Who says it wasn't a pastry?'

'Because if you'd stopped at a Dunkin, you'd have gone for the double chocolate twist. What is her name?

He sighed, stuffed his hands in his pockets; playing dumb with Lanie was always a losing game. 'Meredeth. I met her last Wednesday. Tonight was our first date.'

'And here I am ruining your date night with a dead body. Was she angry?'

'Surprisingly, no. Said she understood I had to go since I got a call. How is it you're the one busting my chops and not the turtledoves?'

Lanie pursed her lips as she took two bottles of water from her hidden stash, passed one to him. 'Please, if it isn't related to Beckett or a case, Castle doesn't pick up on it these days, and Ryan's still got that Smurf-sex newlywed brain.' She drank deeply to clear the chemical stink of autopsy from her mouth. 'Tell me about her.'

'Born New Yorker, no siblings. Single parent family, mother died when she was eleven, grandmother lives in Chelsea and raised her, went to Columbia for school. She's a writer for an online magazine and a die-hard Blackhawks fan, and very selfish with her movie snacks.'

'She pretty?'

'Oh, Lanie.' Esposito pressed a hand to his heart, pretended to stagger. 'Juicy-booty, full-figured blue-eyed honey-haired goddess.'

The description triggered something in Lanie's mind, and she went to her work bag by the lab bench, pulled out a paperback graphic novel entitled Lady Hawk: Midnight is Crashing and handed it over. 'That her?'

Esposito stared in shock at the black and white headshot of the author - Meredeth sat on a leather sofa in her favoured jeans and bare feet, looking both sexy and intelligent. 'Yeah, it is. Where'd you find this?'

'Honey, Meredeth Coleman is the author of the Lady Hawk series. Some people have called her books a feminist version of Batman. And that little digital online magazine she works for? That would be Critical Condition, one of the top on-line film and television recap and review sites. She's one of their top writers and regular columnists. Not only that, she has a masters in film history and her first short story collection just came out a few weeks ago. Her Twitter feed says she's going to be taping interviews with the Jimmys and Craig Ferguson in a week or two to promote it.'

Esposito said nothing as he absorbed this new twist. Another writer/cop romance for the 12th, he mused; then again, Beckett and Castle were deliriously happy together so maybe there was something to that combo. His fingers itched for the book to take home with him and see for himself that quick brain at work, more for his phone to dial her up and see if she was up for a quick night-cap so he could tease her in person, since she'd given him such grief over knowing Richard Castle. 'Mind if I borrow that? She never mentioned it and I need to tease her desperately.'

'Tell you what.' Thrilled to see her co-worker in the unwittingly bubbly stage of new romance, Lanie passed him the book. 'I'll distract those two outside if you want to make a quick call.'

Grateful for her understanding, Esposito counted to five after Lanie swung into the hall outside the autopsy room, then dialled Meredeth's number. She answered after four rings.

'Didn't expect to hear from you tonight.'

'I have a moment, there, Lady Hawk.'

She giggled, a youthful sound that made him grin. 'Ah, you found me out.'

'So do you lead a secret life like your Tabitha Stroud or is it more like Heroes and you keep everything private?'

'Well, I- heehee, Arturo, no!' The giggle turned into a full out laugh, but Esposito saw little flecks of green in front of his eyes at the mention of another man's name. 'He's licking my toes.'

Esposito felt light-headed at the notion of her with someone that wasn't him. 'Am I interrupting something?'

'No. Arturo's my dog, and the salt from my sweaty feet is, evidently, an ideal midnight snack for him.'

'Oh.'

'Oh? Oh! I get it, you thought I had some smooth-chested cabana boy here servicing me.' It gave Meredeth a secret little rush to think that he was jealous at the idea of her with another man. 'I thought I told you my dog's name was Arturo.'

'No, only that you had one.'

'Well you can meet him when you come over for dinner on Tuesday. Pizza and brownies, to go along with the Blackhawks/Red Wings game.'

'Like store bought or from scratch?'

'My secret recipe. Triple chocolate with walnuts and banana cream cheese frosting.'

Esposito cleared his throat and tried to sound casual, but the idea of Meredeth, hockey and homemade brownies was almost too much, especially when he was on the clock. 'Tuesday, six-thirty, I'll bring the wine.'


R&R&Enjoy.