The nearly clean white dry-erase board always made Beckett a little uncomfortable. It needed to be filled with a life, an investigation...a mystery for her to solve, a challenge to overcome. God, I'm starting to sound like Rick, she mused.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, Esposito teased through the team's mind-link, or in your case, cheesier.
Beckett rolled her eyes and forced herself to continue the conversation audibly instead of through the mind-link. "So what do we have on Mister Alex Masterson besides a name and his DMV photo?"
Esposito began, "Well, professional tracers usually try to make money out of parkour one of two ways..."
"Do we know Masterson was a pro?" asked Beckett.
Esposito nodded. "He was considered an up-and-comer within the sport. Made it into the semi-finals of American Ninja Warrior last year."
"What's that?" Beckett asked.
"Some sort of ultra-tough obstacle course competition. A lot of the top guys in parkour compete, apparently," replied Esposito.
Beckett steered them back to the narrative that Esposito had been trying to deliver. "Okay, so Masterson was a pro tracer, and just starting to make a name for himself. Did he make his money from this American Ninja competition?"
Esposito shook his head. "No, only the winner of Ninja Warrior gets any cash out of it. And only three guys in the show's history have ever done it...anyway, Masterson was looking to make his money as a stuntman. We found his reel on YouTube."
Beckett and Esposito crossed over to Ryan's desk, where the younger detective was watching the late Alex Masterson run, jump, twist and flip through seven minutes of effortless-looking parkour. Beckett noticed the contact information in the video's description did not match the victim. "It appears Mr. Masterson had an agent. Why don't you guys go pay him a visit and see if this reel got our victim any work."
"On it," Ryan and Esposito replied in unison.
As she watched her fellow Guardians leave, Beckett switched to the mind-link. Oh, and guys...want to go for a run tonight?
Ryan and Esposito broke into matching smiles and responses. Same place, same time?
I'll take off without you if you're late...
"Robert Ortman Agency, please hold...Robert Ortman Agency, please hold...Robert Ortman Agency, please hold..."
Ryan and Esposito listened patiently as the receptionist's mantra of capitalism droned on for what felt like forever. How many lines does this woman have to answer? asked Ryan.
I think she has to answer phones for the whole building, Esposito replied.
Finally the last line was put on hold, allowing the receptionist's attention to focus on the men in front of her. "May I help you?"
Ryan spoke up. "We need to speak with Alex Masterson's agent, please."
"And you are...?"
The two detectives flashed their badges simultaneously. "VIPs," replied Esposito.
The receptionist viewed their badges with skepticism. "And what is your business with Mr. Jameson, officers-"
"Detectives," Ryan corrected the woman, "Ryan and Esposito. We are investigating the death of Mr. Masters-" A gasp of shock from the receptionist cut Ryan off, which he noticed immediately. "You knew Mr. Masterson?"
The receptionist nodded wordlessly, trying to hold back a sob. "Athletes are persistent types, so when they're trying to get in the business you tend to see a lot of them, y'know? When she saw Ryan nod, she continued, "Alex was one of the few guys who was actually nice to me around here...I'm going to miss him a lot."
Remembering what the two men were there to do, the receptionist composed herself as best she could and reached for the phone's intercom button. The person on the other line apparently answered quickly, since it was less than a second before the receptionist announced, "NYPD Detectives Ryan and Esposito to see you, sir." She then turned back to the detectives, "Follow me, please."
Ryan and Esposito followed the receptionist out of the waiting area and behind the double glass doors into a sea of cubicles. After a half dozen lefts and rights that made Ryan start to wish the woman had a tour guide's flag, they arrived at the receptionist's intended destination. It was the desk of a middle-aged, balding man with a potbelly who was clearly sweating. He was on the phone finishing up a call. "Mikey, I'm telling you this guy is going to be huge. The next great action star. You hire him now, he might do you a favor and cut you a break when he makes it big..."
It was only then that the man recognized that the receptionist was behind him with the two detectives in tow. He returned to wrapping up the phone call. "Listen. Mikey, babe, I gotta call you back. You know how it is, right? Right? Anyway, I got people who gotta talk to me, so can I call you back in twenty? Thanksomuch...Buh-bye." With his attention sufficiently freed up from being off the phone, the man turned his attention to Ryan and Esposito. "Sorry about that, gentlemen. Mister Bay is one of those guys who when he wants something, he wants it yesterday, ya know what I mean?" He offered his hand in greeting to the detectives as he continued, "Eugene Jameson, nice to meet ya."
Esposito shook the man's hand...and fought the urge to wipe his hand on the back of his pants shortly afterwards. Ugh...this guy gives new meaning to having an oily personality.
See anything helpful? asked Ryan quickly.
Not immediately, replied Esposito. I'll go over his life in more detail when we're done.
Ryan turned his attention quickly back to shaking Eugene's hand. "Mr. Jameson, is there a place where we can speak in private?"
The receptionist spoke up. "Conference Room B is available for the next hour, Mr. Jameson."
"Will that work for you fellas?" asked Eugene.
Ryan and Esposito agreed, and the receptionist led them to the conference room. The two detectives took seats opposite the agent at the conference table. Ryan began, "Mr. Jameson, we'd like to ask you some questions about one of your clients, Alex Masterson."
Eugene's face paled, and Ryan watched, amazed and a little disgusted, as even more sweat seemed to pour off the man's bald head. "Alex isn't in trouble, is he? Jesus, he seemed like such a nice kid...ah well, guess this business gets to everyone sometime..."
Esposito stopped Eugene before his thoughts could trail off further. "Unfortunately Mr. Masterson was found dead this morning."
"Jesus," Eugene exclaimed. He took a roll of what looked to be antacids our of his pocket and popped a couple in his mouth. "Kid had just gotten his big break, too..." Eugene commented quietly. "Isn't that always the way..."
"You said that Mr. Masterson had just gotten his big break?" asked Ryan. "What was it?"
"Are you familiar with a cable cop show called Follow the Money?" asked Eugene. When the two detectives nodded, Eugene continued, "Alex just wrapped a job doing a big stunt for their season finale. They liked him so much they wanted him to come back next season as the star's stunt double. Oh, God...now I gotta find them a replacement..."
Beckett smiled as she watched Castle take in the scene around him with his typical boundless curiosity. While she was walking through the set with a deliberate sense of purpose, he was taking in *everything*. "Gee, someone who didn't know you would think you had never been on a movie or TV show set before in your life, Castle..."
Her partner was unapologetic. "Beckett, one thing you need to remember about writers is that we have *very* active imaginations. The whole point of getting stories down on paper is to have someone else pick up that paper and see the same thing that was going through my head. The ultimate representation of that is taking the words off that paper and putting those images on a screen."
"Still, I kinda thought you'd hate this show, Castle, what with the star beating you out of the title of most ruggedly handsome New York bachelor..." Beckett teased.
Castle decided to rise above the bait. "Actually, at one point I wanted to shadow one of the guys they based this show on."
"Really? The fed?" asked Beckett.
"Nope," Castle countered. The grin on his face spoke of his usual boyish shamelessness. "The art thief. We had everything worked out, too...until he got himself caught and wound up in prison."
Beckett found herself curious about Castle's almost-shadow. "Whatever happened to the guy?"
"He did his time and dropped off the radar shortly after that. But then I met you, and I stopped caring about tracking him down. I'd barely even thought about him until I heard about this show."
"So do they do the guy any justice? The thief on the show is a pretty larger-than-life character."
Castle shrugged, "It's TV, they exaggerate. But in his case, they didn't exaggerate all that much. It's not that far off from what Chris was really like."
"Thanks, Rick," replied a quiet male voice behind him, "I'm glad we get at least some of the details right."
Beckett and Castle turned to find a middle-aged man in a well-tailored Armani suit crossing the set to meet them. Castle greeted the man with a handshake and a warm smile. "Marcus, it is good to see you again..."
Marcus' smile matched Castle's: warm enough to show that the two knew each other, but that they weren't close friends...as evidenced by how Marcus' smile didn't quite make it to his eyes. "It's been too long, Rick. Three months and all I get is the standard rumor mill grist about some new girlfriend taking up all your spare time..."
Castle turned to Beckett to make polite introductions. "Kate Beckett, this is Marcus DiNapoli, executive producer of 'Follow the Money'. Marcus is on the board of the Hamptons Classic..."
"Which Rick used to attend every year. At least, until *this* year," corrected Marcus.
"I was busy! Gina's breathing down my neck about another Nikki Heat book, and it's barely half finished as it is. Now, you wouldn't want me to lose my contract and not be able to donate all that money every year, now would you?"
"No, of course I wouldn't. Anyway, I'm sure you didn't just come down here to get pestered by me. What can I do ya for, Rick?"
Castle shifted his attention to his partner, who drove the conversation to their original intent. "Actually, Castle's here with me." Beckett held out her badge as she re-introduced herself, "*Detective* Kate Beckett, NYPD."
"Ah, the *real* Nikki Heat," Marcus returned smoothly. "What can I do for you, detective?"
Beckett was all business. "We were hoping we could talk to someone about Alex Masterson. We understand he worked as a stuntman on the show recently?"
Marcus waved a man over to their conversation with a silent gesture. "I'll introduce you to my stunt coordinator, Jeremy Parkinson. If anyone would be able to tell you about a stuntman it'll be Jeremy."
A well-built but shorter man joined the conversation. "Yeah boss?" he asked Marcus, "Whaddya need?"
"Jeremy, this is Detective Kate Beckett and Richard Castle. They want to find somebody who worked with an Alex Masterson."
"Yeah, I worked with Alex on the ep we shot last week," said Jeremy. "Good kid."
Beckett asked, "Did he have any problems with anybody here on the set? Did he get in a fight with anybody?"
Jeremy shook his head. "No way. He was totally cool. Laid back, great sense of humor. What's this about?"
"Mr. Masterson was found dead this morning," Castle announced solemnly.
Marcus and Jeremy had matching expressions of shock. Jeremy looked like someone had punched him in the gut. "Oh my God," exclaimed the stuntman, "I was so looking forward to working with Alex next season..."
"You hired him last week after the episode wrapped?" asked Beckett.
Jeremy nodded. "Mark needed...needs a new stunt double next season because Curtis is moving to LA. I brought in Alex last week as a test run, and he was so cool to work with that I was happy to hire him..."
"Was there anyone else who was in the running for the job? Maybe they got jealous of Alex getting it instead of them?" asked Castle.
Jeremy started to say no...but then stopped himself. "Well there *was* Dave..."
"Dave?" asked Beckett.
"Dave Grenholm. He's been in the business a couple of years now; super-talented guy. Now that I think about it, I think Alex mentioned that he and Dave were friends."
"Maybe they stopped being friends after Alex got the job," mused Castle.
Well, Esposito, Beckett declared, You were right. This was a terrible idea.
Esposito smiled at his friend's obvious teasing. Yeah, I mean it's not like anyone actually looks at the billboards in Times Square or anything.
That did it; Ryan's mind voice burst out laughing. If they only knew what we were doing *behind* those billboards...
Beckett swung herself up onto a piece of metal scaffolding supports, propping herself up with the back of the billboard to catch her breath. Think anyone can see us?
Have *you* ever stopped to look behind a Times Square billboard? Esposito replied.
Good point, Beckett replied.
Ryan swung up onto his own 'perch' buffeted by a corner of scaffolding. Javi, this was definitely one of your better ideas. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun...
I can, Beckett declared with a smile.
The memory rose to the front of all three Guardians' minds in perfect unison. Hide and seek...
That led Esposito to another idea; one that was picked up by the other two Guardians before he even had to phrase the thought. Beckett looked at her watch as she considered the idea. I'd love to, guys, but I gotta get back to Castle before he worries...
Ryan and Esposito looked at each other, unable to resist the obvious response. They responded in perfect mental unison, But mom, five more minutes? Pleeeaase?
Beckett smiled patiently, enduring the teasing in good spirits. Just be glad Castle leaves that paintball gun in the Hamptons, or tomorrow night I'd be tempted to cover a good number of the roofs of Manhattan in neon green paint...
Beckett closed the door to the loft so quietly she was sure that only someone with super-hearing could have heard it click closed. Which meant that she was so focused on closing the door quietly that she totally ignored the possibility that Castle could be sitting on the couch, waiting for her. She looked over to her boyfriend, blushing with embarrassment. "Hi honey, I'm home?"
"Hey," Castle greeted her with a loving smile and a warm chuckle. "What's with the walk of shame, Kate? Sick of me, already?" he teased.
Beckett shook her head. "Nah, it's just so late. I figured you'd be asleep and I didn't want to wake you."
"Sweet thought, but not happening," Castle replied as he wrapped he arms around his girlfriend and leaned in for a welcome home kiss. "Guess I've gotten to used to having you in my bed next to me..."
"Is that right?" purred Beckett suggestively, pulling Castle down to her level for a more passionate embrace. She opened up her sense of touch and let the feel of their joined lips and his hands on her back flood her senses.
Castle pulled away from the kiss with a loud, prolonged yawn. "Of course, now that you're home..."
Home. *Their* home. Beckett's laugh was warm and affectionate, both as a response to her boyfriend and a reaction to the fact that she still wasn't quite used to thinking of the loft as *home* just yet. She let Castle lean on her a little as they climbed the staircase. "Let's go to bed, Rick."
"'Kay," Castle replied sleepily. It was then that he remembered why she was out late. "How was girls' night out with Lanie?"
Lanie, forgive me... Beckett lied, "It was great. We went out for drinks and talked. It feels like we haven't done that in forever..."
Castle was too tired to do anything other than accept what she told him. "Cool," he commented sleepily.