Chapter 3 – Don't Tell Ms. Beckett
Rick drummed his fingers against the wheel, looking out at the New York City traffic. Trouble had her earphones plugged in, sporadically bobbing her head and mimicked air guitar gestures to the heavy, thrumming beat.
Last night was a hectic night. As soon as Rick made up his mind to let Trouble stay, Kate stomped her foot, announced that that was the last straw, and stormed out of the house. Trouble doesn't seem to care the slightest bit.
"I'll take the couch for the time being," Trouble advocated, dragging her bulky, dark green suitcase into the living room. It looked like it was going to burst. "I'm sure your daughter here wants her privacy, right, Lexie?"
Alexis looked bewildered and nodded tentatively.
"You sure, Trouble?" Rick said, wheeling around as she went back out to fetch her threadbare backpack—originally white, but is now a filthy, green grey color—and a heavy-looking cello casing. Rick couldn't help but wonder how she managed to carry all that all around New York.
"How do you manage to carry all this?" Rick inquired.
Trouble wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and slumped on the sofa; her future bed. "Believe me, it wasn't easy. Everyone stared like I grew another head out my neck. The cops were the worst; they thought I was carrying bodies! (Yeah, no joke, Alexis muttered). It was horrid! Had to sleep on numerous benches and bus stops and sneak little goodies from little shops and nibble at them discreetly, avoiding the security cameras and—Shit, I just remembered you work with cops!" Trouble slapped herself on the forehead. "Fuck! Don't arrest me! Don't arrest me!"
"Trouble, I'm a writer," Rick said patiently, but with a hint of mirth.
"Then don't tell Ms. Beckett I said anything!" Trouble blubbered.
"Kate doesn't have to know," Rick said, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh, thank God. Thank you . . ." Trouble said, relieved, and unzipped her backpack (with slight difficulty). As soon as she managed to do so, a flash of orange darted out of the bag and leapt onto the panty, its matted tail high in the air and its blue eyes wide with curiosity as it pawed the marble's edge.
"What the—what's that?" Alexis cried, pointing at the ginger tabby. It had a notched ear and shabby fur, as if it hadn't been bathed in weeks.
"This," Trouble introduced as she picked him up from the underbelly, "is Fracas. Fracas, meet Mr. Castle and Alexis."
Fracas; pupils narrowed in the abundant light and mewled.
"Aw, he's so adorable!" Alexis cooed and reached out to pet him. His eyelids fluttered shut and he purred loudly, contentedly. "He's so friendly!"
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," Trouble said; a quiet warning.
"Trouble, Fracas," Rick muttered with an amused shake of his head. "What an amazing combination. What next? Mayhem?"
"I was thinking," Trouble said, smiling. "Not sure what, though. What about a goldfish? But no, Fracas will gobble him up in two seconds flat. Which reminds me, can I use your bathroom?" She lifted Fracas. "He needs a bath."
"Uh, sure, go ahead." Rick tilted his body a little and pointed. "Down the hallway, second to the right."
"And straight on 'til morning," Trouble joked. "I'll be right back."
"I'll come with you," Alexis put forward.
As soon as their shadows disappeared round the corner, the doorbell rang and the door burst open. There stood Kate, arms akimbo.
"Rick, you were an only child," she said, her voice hard.
"I'm well aware of that, Kate."
"It's not possible for you to have a niece!"
"Yes, I know."
"Then why—"
"That's why I'm going to try to find out." He looked over his shoulder to the hallway. "She seems like an interesting character."
"Interesting will turn into regret before you know it, Richard Castle," Kate scowled, crossing her arms. "Where is she anyway?"
"Giving her cat a bath with Alexis."
Kate threw up her arms. "Oh, she has a cat, too?"
"That's the least of my worries. Fracas is friendly and adorable."
"Fracas. Oh, I see. First Trouble, now Fracas."
"My thoughts exactly. I find it quite amusing, if I do say so myself."
Kate exhaled, enervated, and looked up at Rick with troubled, brown eyes, and she stepped forward. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"I'm sure you do," Kate countered, but when he still gave her a blank look, she sighed, "Rick, you invited a stranger into your home. You can't trust her yet; you know you can't. For all you know, she might not be who she says she is. She could be after your money, rob you of everything, after Alexis!"
Rick raised his hands. "Whoa, Kate, I think that's a tad bit too far."
"She might just be another punk; she puts on a show and you bought it. Her story's not even cogent; hell, she doesn't even have a story at all!"
"Kate, calm down" Rick said soothingly and placed both hands on her shoulder. "We'll figure her out, I promise."
The sound of the bathroom door opening and two girls giggling sent a wave of relief through Rick as he ushered Kate back out, whispering urgently that he had to go and a hasty 'see you tomorrow'.
"Who was that, dad?" Alexis said, holding a now dripping wet Fracas. They didn't dry him properly.
"Oh, just, uh . . ." Rick fumbled for the right word, but none came to mind, "no one . . . No one important." He clapped his hands together. "Now, uh, Trouble, you wanna unpack?"
"Oh, yeah!" Trouble said and rushed to unlock her massive luggage, and an assortment of clothes and garments and accessories came spilling out.
"What the hell . . ." Alexis breathed.
"None of them are mine; I stole them from the Warden and Matron and some others. I can't steal too much from one person; they're bound to notice," Trouble said with a sly smile, then her face turned grave. "Don't tell Ms. Beckett."
"Matron, warden, what's the difference?" Alexis asked as she ruffled Fracas' fur with a kitchen towel.
"Matron's the younger woman in charge of the domestic and medical stuff. Warden's the prison guard-slash-nasty old hag."
Trouble proceeded to dig around her disarrayed luggage that seemed to be crammed to the brim with elbow sleeved shirts, faded jeans shorts, the dungarees and kaftan Trouble spoke of earlier, oversized t-shirts, black yoga pants, a rose tinted tracksuit, a navy blue blazer, emerald, ruby and turquoise hoodies, army green cargos, knee length black leather boots, and what Rick suspected to be a canary yellow ball gown.
Alexis' mouth dropped open, her breathing stalled like a goldfish out of water. Her eyes ogled Trouble's belongings. "You stole all that?!"
"Don't tell Ms. Beckett. I just took one of everything."
"Doesn't look like it," Rick said breathlessly.
"Don't tell Ms. Beckett."
"Mother of God . . ."
Trouble shut her luggage and progressed to dumping the contents of her backpack. Two pairs of eyes darted wildly over a snow globe, peppermint mouthwash, a mangy, stuffed red panda called Dahlia, a clinking jewelry box, dog-eared Harry Potter books, a metronome, an empty water bottle, a box of smushed Hershey Kisses, an ultramarine digital camera and a pair of broken leopard patterned sunglasses.
"Aw, shit, my RayBans snapped in half!" Trouble groaned.
"For God's sake, Trouble . . ." Rick murmured. He was out of things to say. Alexis could only stand rooted to her spot, eyes bulging, nearly popping out of her sockets.
"Don't tell Ms. Beckett, a'ight? Make stuff up if she asks. Now I have to put everything back in . . ."
Trouble's sudden fit of stomping broke Rick out of his daydream, and he thought of it as a distraction. He yanked at one of her earphones, much to her displeasure, and she scowled heavily at him.
"What're you listening to?" he asked. "It's really loud; even I can hear it through the radio."
Trouble's face softened and she handed Rick the earphone. "Skillet. They're wicked awesome! Give them a shot."
Rick put on the earphone, leaning a little to right as he did so and at the same time kept his eyes on the road, and listened. Drums and violins and electric guitars clashed and he only caught the words 'WAKING UP, WAKING UP!'. It was shortly followed by a string of 'ooh's.
"What's this?" Rick queried.
"Radioactive, Imagine Dragons," Trouble answered and took the half of her earphone back. "Are we heading for the precinct?"
"We're headed straight for the crime scene. Beckett's there with the rest. They'll debrief me as soon as this dastardly traffic ceases . . ." Rick let his sentence hang in a grimace.
"Awesome!" Trouble squealed, her eyes lighting up, but darkened as quick. "I left my camera at home."
"Sucks," was all Castle could say as he knitted his brows together and took a right turn.
"Hello, Castle," Kate said coldly when they approached the alleyway. "I didn't know today was 'take-your-forgotten-niece-to-work' day."
"Kate," Rick said reprovingly. "Be nice." Then mouthed, "Please."
Kate just rolled her eyes.
"She insisted she came," Rick said. "She woke up at the crack of dawn to cook me bacon and eggs and toast and everything."
"I could do twice as good. And how does she know where your eggs and bacon are?"
Rick stared at her. "Aren't all bacons and eggs located in the fridge?"
Kate turned away, appearing to be unamused, but Rick saw that she was embarrassed by her blunder.
"So, what's the situation?" Rick said, diverting the subject.
"See for yourself," Kate said.
It was a girl, no older than sixteen, with a heart shaped face, plump red lips and aurulent ringlets; a small lock of it tied in a Prussian blue bow. Her skin was ashen, her frozen fingers clasped over the stab wound on her chest, as if someone has positioned them that way. Her silken nightgown was dyed with her blood.
A shriek escaped Trouble's throat and she stumbled backwards into the vandalized walls.
"Good lord," she gasped. "It's Dotty!"