Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop
Kate drove single-handedly from Al's school to Castle's apartment building, a bagel half in one hand that she nibbled at while sitting at stop lights. Breakfast had been rushed since both Kate and Al had overslept; Kate her actual alarm and Al her internal one. Al had eaten in the car on the way to school, still overjoyed from dinner the previous night with Castle and his mother.
The curb right outside of the building was empty and Kate sent a quick thank you to the sky for the prime spot before throwing the car into park and pulling her cellphone out of her pocket. She texted Castle, leaving the phone on the dashboard to wait for the writer. She had reservations about how well he would handle himself in real situations. If she wasn't going to lie to herself, she still had reservations. Richard Castle was a good man; dinner last night had proven that beyond a reasonable doubt, but sometimes being a good man wasn't enough. Today should be okay, she thought to herself. More interviews and the autopsy that Esposito had texted her to bring Castle to. She had the faint suspicion that it was the boys' form of hazing and she completely supported their little act.
The passenger door opened and Castle slipped into the heated car, two travel mugs in his hands. "Morning, Detective." He held out one of the mugs to her, then saw the bagel. "I bring you coffee but you don't bring me food?"
Kate ate the last bite of the bagel and took the offered travel mug. It wasn't plastic but heavy ceramic, warming her hands. She took a careful sip, unsure of the temperature of the liquid inside, but found her tastebuds still intact. It wasn't her usual latte, but coffee sweetened with cream and sugar. "Thanks, Castle." Then she put it into the cup holder in the console and started toward the precinct uptown.
"Why do you call me that?" Kate glanced over at him and found his brows furrowed, head tilted to the side inquisitively. "Castle. Why just my last name?"
She shrugged. "Habit while on the job. Last names. Why? Does it bother you?" She let pedestrians cross in front of her before zipping up to the stop light.
"Not at all! Makes me feel like a cop. One of the brothers in blue."
"You know you aren't, right?" she asked the man. "And we don't actually call ourselves 'brothers in blue.'"
"What disappointment. And it's only eight thirty-six." He took a sip of his coffee, setting the cup on his knee. "I can only imagine what the rest of the day has in store."
Boringness spread thickly over a slice of tedium with a dash of dullness. That was what Castle had been so excited to get to.
When they walked off the elevator, Ryan intercepted them from the mailboxes along one wall where files were left for detectives.
"What'd you get from the son yesterday?" Kate asked, taking her jacket off and tossing it on the back of her chair.
Ryan was eyeing the coffee cups the two of them held as he told them about the husband, Stephen. He propped a hip against Kate's desk while Castle settled in her visitor's chair, leaning an elbow on the corner to listen in.
"Apparently Stephen was coming home later and later in the day. Claimed he was pulling overtime because they needed the extra money. Marianne was getting suspicious so she started tracking Stephen's phone using some high-tech app."
"Let me guess," Castle interjected with a grin. The ball was in his field now. "Instead of filing," he turned to Ryan, "what was his job?"
Ryan flipped through a few of his notebook pages. "Teacher. High school English."
Castle nodded, then dug back into his story. "Instead of grading his students' Shakespeare test from the day before, looking at how they butchered quotes from The Tempest, our high school teacher was tutoring," he said the word with a waggle of his eyebrows, clearly implying that it didn't not mean what they word typically meant, "one of his students. One of the pretty blonde girls that sat in the back, too busy trying to hide her texting habit than to hear another word about Miranda and female empowerment or Caliban and postcolonial readings of the play. So after class, she asks the sympathetic Mr. Kowal for some extra help. She needed that B+ to keep her GPA good enough to get into community college or her parents would kill her."
Now it's not just Ryan and Kate at the desk; uniforms have paused nearby, Esposito has swung his chair around to face the writer, and even Montgomery has hung up the phone and gotten up to stand in the doorway of his office. Castle noticed and he felt the familiar thrill of having a captive audience urge the story on.
"Mr. Kowal, of course, doesn't want a student to fail. He's been in her shoes before, parents that want their kid to achieve great things and wouldn't settle for less. He agrees to help her out, would she meet him in the classroom once the bell rings at the end of the day."
"Yeah, but she wasn't going for help with Shakespeare," Ryan interrupted.
Castle cut his protest off with a quick glare. "Let me tell the story, Detective Ryan. Anyway, he meets up with the girl only tutoring turns into quickies in the janitor's closet and in the folded up tables in the cafeteria and in the locker room of the gym."
This time, it was Kate that jumped in. "Lovely story, Castle. But there's one thing you're forgetting." He raised a brow as if to ask 'What?' and she sat back in her chair. "His phone showed that he wasn't in the school. If he was holding these scandalous meetings with his student in the school, Marianne would never have caught onto his cheating."
The writer deflated into the chair, his eyes squinting a little as if he were trying to figure out a way to make his story work to fit the fact he had forgotten about. Kate shook her head at him, turning back up to Ryan.
"So, he was cheating?"
Ryan nodded. "Oh yeah. With this woman." He laid a photo of an attractive redhead. "Abigail McKenna."
Kate took a sip of her coffee, shifting the DMV photo over so Castle could see it. "Do we have Stephen and Miss McKenna coming in?"
"Around noon."
"Thanks, boys," Kate called out loud enough for Esposito to hear the words. "Since we got nothing from the law firm. Everyone there didn't notice anything different going on with Marianne's life and there weren't recorded messages from the killer. Completely blank."
"Good thing you've got us on your team, Beckett," Esposito said, fist-bumping his partner when Ryan sat at his desk. "You'd never get anything done without us."
She rolled her eyes, taking the copy of Abigail McKenna's driver license photo and put it into the file on her desk. Then she took out a different folder and pulled up the same reports he had watched her fill out the night they had shared pizza and conversation.
"This is it?" he asked, opening up the file for the Kowal case and scanning the information. "More reports and paperwork? Where're the intense interrogations and gun battles?"
"Castle, remember when I told you about the glamorous life of a cop?" Kate asked, not looking away from the screen of her computer as her fingers typed out a statement she had handwritten in her notebook. She did see his little nod out of the corner of her eye. "The car was only the first part. This is the second step. Paperwork and waiting."
He looked sad, disappointed with the turn of events. "This is nothing like what happens on primetime TV, you know. CSI: NY and Law and Order blow this way out of proportion."
"But hey. You saved us from the third aspect." Kate paused her typing and held up the travel mug of still-warm coffee. "The stuff in the break room is shit."
"I recall," he muttered, sipping from his own mug. "But you're welcome."
Castle helped Kate with the paperwork, reading off statements and dates and times and causes of death. By the time Mr. Stephen Kowal and Miss Abigail McKenna stepped off the elevator, trying to hide the fact they had been holding hands until that point, the pile with the most folders to file was not Kate's incomplete pile but the one that needed to go down to Records. She had time to smile thankfully at the writer before getting up and going to meet the man and woman just inside the bullpen. Castle stayed in the visitor's chair, shifting after hours of being in the same position, half leaning onto the desk to see the computer screen but still sitting so he could read the file he had open on his lap.
"Mr. Kowal, Miss McKenna, I'm Detective Beckett," he heard her say to the couple in introduction. Castle glanced over, watched as she shook their hands. He wondered how she did it, how she put the suspicion that she was looking at the people that may have worked together to murder Marianne to the back of her mind and keep a small smile on her face.
There was a moment where Castle thought Stephen was going to swing out at Kate and he was halfway out of the chair before Abigail placed a hand on his arm. Then Abigail was going with Ryan and Esposito down the hall while Kate opened the door to another room right off the bullpen.
"Castle." He looked up from the pad of paper he had been doodling on, content to wait for her to return from the interview. "You coming?"
"Really?" he asked, then decided not to question her decision. He jumped up, taking the notebook with him and jogging over to the door.
Kate stuck a finger out and poked him in the chest. "Just remember, I can kick you out if I need to. Don't speak. Let me get him to confess then you can ask all the questions you want."
"Got it."
She let him go into the room first, closing the door behind them. "Thanks for coming in, Mr. Kowal. We really appreciate your cooperation as we sort this out."
The man swallowed, wiping a hand over his forehead. "It's tragic. Marianne was a good woman, even if we did have our differences."
Castle stood back to the side of the mirror that took up one wall, nodding at the other man before Kate sat at the table. He watched as Kate guided the man through simple questions about Marianne, not a word she said letting on that they were looking at him as a suspect.
"And where were you yesterday morning, between four and six?" Kate asked, setting her pen down on the table next to her notepad, linking her fingers and looking over at the man across from her.
"I don't think I like-"
Kate interrupted with a winning smile, one that disarmed the other man completely. "Just protocol, Mr. Kowal. You understand, right?"
It put him at ease, Castle noticed, and Stephen sat forward. "I was in bed."
"Alone?"
"No. With Abbie."
"Miss McKenna?" Kate asked, clarifying for the record.
Stephen nodded, glancing from Kate to Castle, then back. "She's my… Oh, what does it matter now. Abbie's my girlfriend."
"And did Marianne know about you and Miss McKenna?"
"Detective, this is my personal life!" Stephen said, getting up from the table and pacing the short length of the interview room. His hands went from in his pockets to running over his head as he turned to face Kate. "I don't see what it has to do with Marianne's death."
Kate didn't let his outburst phase her as she picked up the pen, twirling it in her fingers as she watched Stephen walk the room. "Just answer the question, Mr. Kowal."
"No, I don't think so. We were careful."
The knock, light and barely audible, on the glass window had Kate getting to her feet, tucking the notebook under arm. "Won't be more than a minute, Mr. Kowal." She jerked her head at Castle, indicating the door.
Ryan and Esposito were waiting outside the door as Kate shut it with a click. "What'd you get?"
"That they did it." Esposito looks rather proud of the statement as he hands over a signed confession. "Miss McKenna is *not* a great liar. She broke not three questions in, just shouted that she and Stephen had gotten sick of hiding their relationship from Marianne and took her out. True love conquers all."
Kate grinned, handed the confession back to Esposito, and opened the door back to the room with Stephen in it. "I'm sorry but your girlfriend rolled on you. Mr. Stephen Kowal, you're under arrest for the murder of Marianne Kowal." She read him his Miranda rights as one of the uniforms from outside the door put cuffs on the man's wrists.
On the walk back to her desk, Kate glanced at Castle. "Little more exciting or still disappointed in our less-than-TV life here?"
They didn't sit. Instead, Kate swung her jacket on, flipping her hair from under the collar. "Where're we going?"
"The morgue. Need to chat with the medical examiner about cause of death so I can put in the report." She flashed a quick thumbs-up to the boys on her way past them then stuck her hands in her pockets. "Maybe you can ask her some questions; you didn't really get a chance at the scene yesterday."
Kate texted Lanie on the walk from the precinct doors to the car, filling her in on the plan that the boys had e-mailed her the previous night. She knew Lanie would be game to play a trick of the writer and the other woman promised Kate she'd have something planned by the time they got from the precinct uptown to the medical examiner's office.
"This does not look like a morgue," Castle commented as they parked outside the building.
He was right. It looked like an office building, only the plaque on the side of the door with the seal of the City of New York marking it as different from the others. They pass through the light security check inside, Kate skirting around the metal detectors with a flash of her badge while she waited for Castle to collect his phone, wallet, and the handful of change from his pockets. Then she led the way down a stairwell to the floor below them, Castle following behind like a kid seeing a museum for the first time. The cream walls had black and white prints of city landmarks, further disguising the fact that the place held some of the worst heartbreak during an investigation.
Kate pushed through a door with only a small circular window in it.
Lanie had not been lying about having something set up for the writer. The woman was wearing a cover-all over her scrubs, a large plastic shield over her face, and a scalpel in her hands. She had just finished the Y incision on the body's chest when Kate and Castle entered so she stopped, set the tool on the metal tray at her elbow, and flipped the shield up.
"Afternoon," she said with a smile for both of them. "I take it this is your shadow, Beckett?"
Castle was frozen just inside the door, eyes darting around the room as he tried to take it all in. Kate had to give him a nudge to get him to realize that Lanie had spoken. "Oh, yes. Richard Castle," he said, holding a hand out before he noticed her gloved hands, blood staining the tips of her fingers.
Lanie only grinned, her gaze flickering to Kate who had wandered over to her friend's desk to steal a few Runts from the bowl on the desk. "Doctor Lanie Parish, medical examiner. It's a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Castle. Like Beckett there, I've read most of your books. You sure you haven't murdered anyone?"
"Fairly certain my hands are clean," he replied, glancing at Kate who had ducked her head to hide the faint blush coloring her cheeks from the mention of how many books of his she had read. Lanie was underestimating; Kate had read every single one, some multiple times. Neither of them needed to know that. "Why do you ask, Doctor?"
"Oh, just Lanie." The woman picked up the saw that looked like it belonged in the woods rather than in a morgue. She lowered the shield again before examining the chest of the woman. "You have a gift with the details of death that I've rarely seen from a person who hasn't killed someone."
Their little plan went to hell when Castle leaned in to see what Lanie was doing with the saw against the woman's ribs. Lanie kept looking over at Kate who only looked confused as she watched the writer. She was surprised he hadn't pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures. Well that hadn't worked. The boys would be upset that the writer hadn't run from the room in search of a bathroom.
So Kate stepped away from Lanie's desk, stopping near the door. "You have cause of death yet or do I have to wait on the full autopsy?"
Lanie paused, tapping the saw against the side of the metal table. "I'd say that your COD is gunshot. Looked like a nine mill to her throat from a close range. That's with about a ninety-five percent surety. You find me the gun, I'll be able to match it and get that up to one-hundred percent."
"The husband and his girlfriend killed her. Confessed, so we'll just wait on your full report before filing with the district attorney." Kate looped her arm through Castle's to pull him back toward the door. "Thanks, Lanie."
"But… Hey, I want to watch!" Castle said even as the autopsy doors closed behind them. "That was too cool!"
Kate had her phone in her hand, texting Ryan to let him know the plan had failed. "Maybe next time, Castle. Right now, we need to get back to the precinct and finish up that paperwork."
They got into the car, Kate stashing the NYPD plate that had let her park illegally outside the medical examiner's office in the glove compartment. Castle gave the underside of the dashboard a little kick with his shoe.
"I could learn to hate paperwork, you know, Beckett."
"Oh, Castle, you've barely scratched the surface of the paperwork that goes along with a case." Her phone vibrated as Ryan texted her an updated plan for the next case, one that had her stifling a laugh and deleting the message before Castle could lean over and sneak a peek. "Once we file with the district attorneys, they'll be sending us forms about cutting deals, court appearances, motions, evidence vouchers. And then, if we get a conviction, there's the stuff from corrections that we need to verify."
"I see now why you are so behind on your paperwork…" he muttered. Then he sat up straight, looking over at her. "Can we stop and get more real coffee before going back? The shop is around here."
He was right; the coffee shop was right around the corner. And a five minute stop for a latte that would make the paperwork a little less dreary would be welcome. She parked a few spots down from the front of the shop, let Castle hold the door open for her.
She was toying with the idea of getting cookies to bring back to the boys, a celebratory treat for breaking the case open, when Castle bumped against her shoulder.
"I really like this place." She arched a brow at him, stepping forward with the line. "And yes, I'm being sentimental. I'm glad you and Al came in here that day." He ordered them coffee, added in half a dozen of the cookies he had seen her eyeing, and paid before she could pull out her wallet. When he saw her eyes narrowing into what was becoming a glare, he held a hand out. "I'm the new guy. Let me butter everyone up."
This time, she was the one elbowing him in the side. "Bud, everyone likes you already. You're probably the most famous thing to hit the Twelfth. You'll have people begging to press the elevator button for you so you don't hurt those million dollar fingers."
Castle took down her latte, grabbing his own caramel macchiato in the same hand as the white bakery bag. When she reached for her cup, he pulled it back out of her reach.
"What?" she asked, tempted to put her hands on her hips but resisted; it looked like one of those movements that she pulled with Al when she was upset. Too motherly for the grown man in front of her.
Kate wished she had when he threw her a charming smile. "Even you, Kate?"
"Even me what?"
"Will you be running to my aid with the oh-so horrible elevator buttons?" he questioned, moving toward the exit and opening the door with his hip.
Kate glared at the back of his head, following him to the car, and hitting the unlock button on her keychain. "No. You're on your own with those."
She snatched the coffee cup out of his hand, getting into the driver's seat as he settled next to her. That grin was still on his face as he broke a piece of one of the cookies off, popping it into his mouth. "Because you're not a fan."
Her silence was his answer.