Another Chance

Chapter 9

Castle's eyes rapidly move down the printout Kate handed him as she entered the loft. "Looks like Larkin took every avenue he could to air his grievances. He was a regular at the front desk of the 23rd and at 1PP. He even got the musician's union to write a letter for him."

"The court issued a summary judgment," Kate added. "No witnesses, no nothing. He was screwed over, but that doesn't mean he grabbed Merri."

"Are there any better leads?"

Kate sighs, dropping her tote bag heavily to the floor. "Not that I've heard about. You remember Agent Harris from the FBI?"

Castle scrubs his hand over his face. "How the hell could I forget him? He was the lead on the effort to locate Alexis and Sarah. I guess he did the best he could under the circumstances. He had no idea he was up against Volkov. Neither did anyone else except my father. Maybe that's why I've been looking for an unsuspected motive. The investigation of Alexis' disappearance completely missed the mark."

Kate brushes her fingertips down his roughening jawline. "I get it, Babe, I do. And you could be right. The FBI isn't exactly receptive to ideas outside their usual procedures on Merri's case either. They're probably afraid that if they mess up on a case that's this high profile, it will be splashed across The Ledger and every other media outlet in the country."

Castle can feel the heat rising in his face. "And they'd be right. I might even write some of the posts myself. So where does that put an investigation of Larkin?"

The muscles of Kate's jaw pop as her eyes darken. "Squarely on us, with some support from Frank Kelly. The agency is behind me as long as nothing else pressing comes up that Frank needs me to do."

Castle swipes the back of his hand over his eyes. "So what's our next step?"

"Larkin's in the wind, but he does have friends, fellow musicians who know him. Sometimes he sits in with a band that plays at Rockland House, that's a club on the Lower East Side. We could start by interviewing the members and see if they have any idea where he is."

A smile twitches at the corners of Castle's lips. "I know the place. They've launched some good acts. It's been a long time since we had a night out together, anyway. The Rockland House it is.

In Castle's experience, very few club musicians will turn down either a free drink or free food, and he offers keyboard player Joey Blosser both. As Joey digs into stuffed mushrooms, Castle inquires if the band ever uses guitarists.

Mouth full, Joey nods before swallowing and taking a swig from a bottle of imported beer. "We had a guy, Chris Larkin, we called him Lark, but he hasn't been around lately. He had an incredible instrument until it was smashed by some cop. He has other guitars, but not close to as sweet as that one. After it happened, he went to a bad place, you know? Played with us less often and wasn't as into it when he did. None of the guys have seen him in a few days."

Kate sips her own beer. "That's too bad. Doesn't he have anyone to take care of him, maybe get his mood up?"

Joey pops the filling from another mushroom into his mouth. "There's a girl. Marnie something. Lives over a laundromat a couple blocks from here. She comes in a lot. She digs musicians if you know what I mean. She and Chris were pretty tight, but I haven't seen her in a coupla days either. Could be they're together. Probably be better for him if they are. Guy gets into a mood like that, shouldn't be alone."

Castle puts his arm around Kate. "You got that right, bro."

After he and Kate take a walk through some of New York's older streets, Castle points at an establishment prominently labeled "Suds and Spin." "This must be it. There's a list of the upstairs tenants at the buzzers by the door."

Kate studies the names. "No Marnie. That's usually short for Martha."

"Yeah," Castle agrees, "but not every Martha loves it. One of Mother's potential paramours tried to call her that. As I recall, she kicked him out long before sunrise. There's an M. Swinson. That could be her. You know, if she is hiding Larkin, she's not about to talk to a P.I. What are you going to say to her?"

Kate shrugs. "I don't know, Castle. You're the storyteller."

A groove forms over the bridge of Castle's nose. "I've got nothing. No, wait!" He points through the window of the laundromat. "Look! The manager's name is posted with hours he or she is available. See, M. Swinson. Think we could get a load or two of dirty clothes together by say, 11 o'clock tomorrow morning?"

Kate bats her lashes and grabs a handful of his behind. "If we work at it hard enough, we could at least come up with a set of sweaty sheets."

Castle traces the curve of her hip. "Yes, indeed. We should get back to the loft and start work on that right away."

To Castle, the short subway ride to the closest stop to Broome Street seems interminable and the walk to the loft much too slow. After a long day, Kate shouldn't smell as enticing as she does, and the slinky scarlet sheath she's wearing is making his pants uncomfortably snug. By the time they make it to the bedroom, he's almost as desperate to free himself of his clothing as he is to release Kate from hers.

Why the hell do they have to put zippers in the back of women's dresses? And even worse, why do they get stuck? Finally, his fumbling fingers work loose the frustrating smidgen of fabric that is keeping him from the tantalizing feast beneath.

Kate's as impatient as Castle is, and he's wearing a lot more clothes than she is, with way too many buttons. At least most of his things can act as minor props for their little act the next day. Shoving the spread and blanket aside, they can finally get down to producing linens in a condition that blissfully shouts the need for a visit to a laundromat.

As Castle covers her, Kate can feel the heat radiating from his body. She's not much cooler as their mouths meet with a hunger food would never satisfy. She needs him, all of him and she's ready. She's been ready ever since they stared in the window of Suds and Spin. She feels slick inside - and empty.

Castle's desire fills her hand, as Kate guides it to the locus of her ever-growing demand. There's no going slow. The need's been building for too long, without any outlet for relief. They are slamming together, but she wants him deeper still. Her legs rise, wrapping around his back and urging him inward. An indescribable feeling spreads through her, a sensation about which no writer has ever penned an adequate description. Then it comes - to both of them. The reaction she is powerless to control, triggers his. He holds her as the tremors ebb. The trip to the laundromat will offer clear evidence that one great load deserves another.