A Convergence of Storms
Summary – 2nd part of A Convergence of Storms. Someone from Castle's past is murdered and that gives Kate a chance to look into his unconventional childhood, something that hasn't been discussed on the show. AU of course, with some grounding in canon.
Author's Notes – Sorry to all of you who were following A Convergence of Storms Part 2. I've combined them into one story because it's easier for me to keep track of. I did save all the reviews though – thanks so much.
Disclaimer – Don't own Castle – Marlowe, ABC, and Disney do. I am reading the spoilers though.
Chapter 12 – Uncle Armie
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Beckett chose to make an early start of the day, slipping out of bed quietly so that Castle could sleep a little longer. She watched him for a moment, smiling. Even though the circumstances could be considered dire, he no longer had those tight worry lines around his eyes that had plagued him since the crash. They now had something they could fight against together.
They had stayed up fairly late, just talking for once, about what had happened and what to do about it.
They knew that the CIA was in place, discreetly monitoring the situation and prepared to take whatever action was deemed necessary.
After much debate, they both decided not to tell the rest of the team and Martha and Alexis about what was happening, reserving that for when it might become necessary and praying that it never did.
She kissed his forehead lightly and watched him stir slightly and then fall back into a contented sleep before she left the room.
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Espo and Ryan were already at the precinct when she walked in, passing looks between themselves as she sat down at her desk.
"What – no Castle?" commented Ryan off-handedly. It hurt both of them to think that Mom and Dad were up to something again and not including them.
"Yeah, is he at some meeting today – you know, the kind you can't tell us about – like the one you went to yesterday with only a quick 'won't be in today' call?" Espo baited.
Beckett smirked at them. "What if he's tied up at home and he'll be in once he figures out how to get untied?" she asked innocently.
They both looked at her and shuddered and then turned back to their desks with a "Ewww."
"So what do we have on our vic?" Beckett asked, looking at the paperwork on her desk, and then at the murder board.
The only pictures on it were of the victim lying in the alley and the alley itself.
"His fingerprints aren't in the system and his wallet wasn't found," said Ryan.
"And there aren't any missing persons reports for a man his age and ethnicity," said Espo.
"Did any of the cameras in the area show anything?" Beckett asked.
Ryan nodded. "A dark color sedan pulled into the alley about 2 am the morning that the body was found. However, it was reported stolen several days before that. They found it yesterday, which you would have known if you had been here, but it was wiped clean and there was no blood residue found in it."
"No one in the area recognized him either," said Espo.
"Okay," said Beckett, studying the picture, already hating this case.
The man was of Eastern European descent, mid'70's, his gray frizzy hair cut short, bushy mustache under his prominent hook nose. He was missing his little finger from the first knuckle up on his left hand and had several scars from repeated TB vaccinations on his biceps. A long scar ran down the right side of his abdomen, indicating some sort of surgery – probably an appendectomy – when he was younger.
She continued to study the board, planning her next move, when the elevator opened and Castle walked out, smiling, almost back to his normal self.
"Huh," said Ryan under his breath as he glanced up. "You must not have tied the knots that tight."
"Good morning," Castle said as he placed Beckett's coffee on her desk.
"Yeah, whatever," said Espo as he turned back to his desk also.
Castle frowned at them and then sat down in his chair. "So what do we ha—" he started and then stopped, his mouth hanging open slightly as he stared at the picture.
He hadn't seen the man in a number of years, but he was almost sure that was Uncle Armie, one of stage hands who had babysat him for a while during the 3rd grade. There was only one way to tell…
"Kate, is the victim missing the top part of his left little finger?" Castle asked, looking at Beckett and then back at the picture.
"Yes," she said, looking at him in return. "Castle, do you know him?"
Her comment caught Ryan's and Espo's attention and they turned towards him.
Castle stood and walked closer to the board, studying the picture. "A long scar about here?" he asked, pointing to a spot on his abdomen.
Beckett nodded again. "Yes."
Castle frowned. "I think that's Uncle Armie – uh – Armen…" he struggled for a minute to remember the man's last name. "Tartian – no, Tavitian," he finally said.
Beckett stood up and walked to stand beside him. "Do you know him?"
Castle nodded. "Yeah, he worked as an assistant pianist on some of the shows my mother did back in the 80's. When he was younger, he was an up and coming classical pianist, but lost his finger in an accident in his early 20's, and never quite recovered from that."
He moved closer to examine the picture. "He used to babysit me on occasion when I was 8, but it's been at least 25 years since I've seen him. The last time was when he came to the party that mother gave me for my high school graduation."
"Got it," said Espo. "Armen Tavitian. He doesn't have a driver's license, but does have a NDID."
"No, but that didn't stop him from driving when he could borrow someone's car," said Castle, smiling a little.
"Last known address is the Blackstone Apartments, 3501 94th in Jackson Heights. He does have a sister in the Queens," said Ryan. "Nataly Davidson."
"Aunt Natie," said Castle suddenly. "I haven't thought about them in years." He stared back at the picture. "Wow."
"You okay?" Beckett asked, putting a hand on his arm.
Castle nodded. "Yeah, just makes you realize how easy it is to lose touch with people you used to know."
Beckett nodded and then turned to the boys. "Ryan, Espo – road trip."
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The Blackstone Apartments were a 6-story walk-up, well past their prime, that housed a variety of tenants who looked like they had seen better days.
Beckett knocked on the door labeled Super and waited as a voice inside yelled, "Coming. Just a minute."
A balding man in a white shirt and jeans opened the door. "Yes, may I help you?"
"I'm Detective Beckett," she said, holding up her badge. "And these are Detectives Ryan and Esposito, and Richard Castle."
Beckett pulled a photograph out of her folio. "This is Armen Tavitian. Does he live here?"
The man pushed his reading glasses up on his nose. "Yeah, Armie. He stays here. Why?"
"Because he was murdered several days ago," said Beckett.
"Armie – dead? Wow, I just saw him – uh – last week." He handed the photograph back. "Armie had just done a job – he worked as a piano tuner. Couldn't see worth crap but his ears still worked. He said they called him back out to tune for more pianos. He thought he'd be gone at least a week."
"May we see his apartment?" Espo asked.
"Sure. I'll get the keys." The super returned quickly with the keys and led them up the narrow stairwell to the 2nd floor.
Armie's apartment was small, 2 bedrooms, a tiny kitchen in the corner. The walls were covered with pictures of the people Armie had worked with on Broadway.
Castle smiled as he looked at the pictures. He had spent a lot of time in those theaters, watching rehearsals, being a go-fer, trying to stay out of trouble but not succeeding most of the time.
"Wow," said Ryan, thoroughly impressed. "He must have really gotten around."
"Yeah – if you needed anything, Armie could get it – the man knew someone for anything," said Castle. "He played for rehearsals, ran lines, fixed sets, dressed the actors. Of course, it didn't pay very well so he was always working odd jobs to make ends meet."
Castle studied the photographs as Beckett walked into the other room and then quietly walked over to Espo and Ryan.
"Listen," he said in a low voice. "If you find any – uh – objectionable photos that look like they have me in them, I would appreciate it if you didn't point them out to Beckett."
Espo stared at him, worried. "Castle, man, did he—"
"No, no," Castle said quickly, cutting him off. "It's just that sometimes we didn't go straight home from visiting my mother at the theater and—"
Now it was his turn to be cut off as Beckett walked out of the bedroom, holding several photographs in her hands and frowned at him. "Castle, is this you in the 3rd grade?" she asked, turning one of the pictures toward him. "And are you in a bar drinking a beer?"
"And there is the objectionable photo," Castle said before turning to face Beckett, his face a study of innocence.
"Busted, bro," mouthed Espo.
"Are you sure you two aren't secretly married?" commented Ryan.
"Uh, I can explain?" offered Castle uncertainly.
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