- Whoo-hoo! Here is the joy of the Lord! - the man cheered. - I'm in! I'm in! And here it is, a new plot!
As if forgetting where and why he is, Castle tap-danced, shrieking and grunting like a pig, and suddenly saw how sternly, impenetrably and even judgmental looking at him Beckett: hands propped at his sides, lip skeptically bitten, eyebrows tightly drawn together.
"Kindergarten!" - and Castle was metamorphosed as he stopped his shouts of joy and stood before his partner with a grimace of subservience. Except that he did not wag his tail and did not stick out his tongue. And there was so much touching, bribing, puppy-like behavior in his whole appearance that Kate had no choice but to relent. But it would still be worth teaching him a lesson, and she poked him hard, painfully, with two fingers, somewhere under his collarbone.
- Ouch! - Castle crouched down, humming thinly and pitifully, and his face contorted inexpressibly horribly. - Why, Beckett?
- And this is to better remember, Castle: without my knowledge and approval, you do not get involved in anything, or our partnership - the end! Is that clear?
- Yeah,- he hissed, smoothing the sore spot with effort. - Rookie Scout's word! You won't regret it!
- I already am! - and immediately she lost interest in him, retreating to the break room, her body in need of coffee.
...Gina's angry and sudden call really pissed him off, and, huddled in some corner, Castle spoke in a hissing, disgruntled whisper, not wanting to give his distorted face a reason for criticism. However, it was impossible to keep the conversation neutral - at the end of it, Rick even yelled at his ex. He yelled it, but he did, and when he came back, all disheveled, with crimson cheeks and a look of wild irritation, the captain and Beckett were already at the blackboard. And the detective, poking at the materials with her finger, was telling her boss something. When Castle approached, the cops looked at him intently and eloquently, but the conversation was still on the merits. And Castle was terribly impressed by the fact that he listened attentively, without interrupting, and asked the right, leading questions. And taking into account the lack of information about the victim and his killer, about the motives of real, animal hatred to him, Castle, as well as a very strange appearance of the writer here, then Castle, as soon as possible, would like to become his own among the cops. And maybe even make friends, but he won't just be a talking head: he'd rather be the soul of the company, no matter how big it is or what the people in it do. After all, these guys and gals - hard work, and hardly frequent holidays, and therefore in his power a little to illuminate their harsh and full of dangers of existence light, sparkling colors of joy and vitality. The only thing that Castle did not know yet - how the captain would feel about all this, but Rick opened his mouth, as the family doctor called: clearly working off the fee, the doctor, of course, cared about his future ...
Not without regret for today, Rick said goodbye to the station, for the sake of forced medical procedures and correction of shaky health, and on the way to the doctor's office he was calculating ways to make himself comfortable. At the very least, it would be worth starting with the small domestic pleasures that always had a positive effect on his overall mood, and if he was going to get close to Beckett, coffee would do the trick (and why not?!). After all, apparently, the detective catastrophically can not without it, and who knows if this drink will not be the key to her heart and soul ...
Castle returned to the station the next morning, and behind him the porter rolled on a cart a large, in strict images of the box. Rick said hello loudly to everyone, but before unpacking, he looked into Montgomery's office, and as it turned out, the captain was not against his idea. And already elated and hopeful, Castle disappeared into the doorway of the recreation room, taking the courier behind him, and for the sake of preserving the intrigue, covering the door...
The "secret" action connected with the adjustment and testing of the new technique, took about half an hour, and in Castle's head for the second chord in a row sounded a victorious, bravura march. At least Rick had hoped the cops would appreciate his diligence, but as it turned out, not Beckett. As Esposito and Ryan raced to test cup after cup, furtively thanking Castle with their thumbs, Beckett gave a skeptical grimace as she stepped into the room and returned to her seat. Businesslike, she pushed another folder to herself and thoughtfully delved into its contents. And Castle, shuffling from foot to foot near Kate's desk, involuntarily felt her dismissive, specifically hurt his attitude, but for now he was nobody here, and even Montgomery's satisfied smile with a cup in his hand did not mean anything.
And then Castle voiced plans for a get-together, but the captain just waved it off, and Beckett silently pointed to the paper-cluttered desk. And Castle had no choice but to scratch his head.
- Ahem. I gotta tell you, Castle,- Ryan whispered quietly from behind him, - Beckett doesn't go to parties.
- Uh, why not? - Castle turned to Kevin, who was leisurely sipping coffee from his mug, smiling rather relaxedly. - What do you mean, he doesn't go? Not at all? Maybe I did something wrong? Or said something?
Ryan chewed his lips measuredly.
- Neither. She doesn't go out at all, not even with us, and you're a stranger to her. That's because she's been living on the job for many, many years...
- What's the reason she's so cool about herself?
- There's a reason, but you shouldn't know about it. For simplicity's sake, think of it as a kind of passion for work itself, which has become an iron habit. Well, whether you accept it or not is up to you.
- Thank you, brother,- and Castle gave the officer a grateful gesture. - I owe you, and you have no idea how much!
Kevin just waved his hand languidly.
- We've gotten used to it. You'll get used to it, too...
...From the doorway Kate smelled the lively, invigorating aroma of real coffee, not budget coffee, but if Castle expected a hurricane of gratitude from her, he was sorely miscalculated.
First of all, this is a police station, not a barista stand.
Secondly, no one asked Castle to bring in a piece of equipment at his own expense.
Well, and third, the case that's got the obsessive and somewhat infantile Castle stuck in the precinct is far from solved. And the less Castle will be engaged in obsequiousness and more to think about the evidence, the sooner the final case will glimmer. And then, without Castle's pesky presence, she'll be free to do whatever she wants.
- What, Castle? - Kate deliberately did not take her eyes off the document, although even before that thoughtfully (but imperceptibly!) followed all the current moments: the new coffee machine and the joyful fuss around it; the invitation to the party and, of course, her refusal; disappointed and uncomprehending Castle; regretfully raised eyebrows Montgomery. In short, with this behavior Kate as if to close herself off from a person alien to her, from a completely different circle, and did not feel the slightest remorse. And, by the way: it's time to search for new evidence, but if Castle starts begging, he'll be out at once ...
- Damn, my heels hurt... - Castle grimaced, shuffling from foot to foot. - Do you think the porcelain implants are gonna fit in there?
- Who knows, Castle, who knows... It's a matter of judgment... But it's worth a shot.
In search of clues, they went to the lodgings of the Apple: there were countless of them, at a noticeable distance from the site. And in each of them the same thing was repeated: she was the first to start questioning, and Castle only smirked and grinned like a madman. Even his, some good ideas did not change the general picture of their partnership: she, Beckett - the head, and Castle, so far - unclear what. True, remembering his first interrogation, Beckett secretly hoped that Castle would come to his senses and become more serious.
So, for hard thoughts and almost without results, the partners came to another shelter.
This unremarkable institution was not the most outstanding in terms of visitors and not in the most favor with the sponsors, but that guy at the book fire, Tom Briskin, somewhere had to eat and sleep. The truth was that during the whole day of searching they had both formed the following impression about the victim: this guy was really fidgety - today he had soup in one shelter, dinner in another, and spent the night in a third, but when Tom disappeared and how he found himself in the abandoned house, no one could say.
They entered the hall through a hinged door that was not clean, and the foul odors of unwashed bodies made their noses ache. Beckett only wrinkled her nose as she watched the greening Castle, who was clearly doing his best, but who, unable to stand it, grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket and hastily rolled it up and pushed the ends into his nostrils. His partner looked so comical, so inimitable, that Kate turned away at once, so as not to reveal a smile. And a couple of deep breaths were enough for her...
- Miss? - the elderly African man behind the counter stood up from his seat, putting aside his book. - Are you not lost? What can I do for you?
- Detective Beckett,- Kate flashed her badge, - and this is Mr. Castle. We're investigating a murder! Do you know this man?
A few photos lay on the counter, and the man with the curly hair on the other side of it immediately turned dark.
- So that's why he didn't come... Poor bastard. And I was so hoping that his life had gotten better! He bored everyone here with his dreamy stories of a happy future, but, apparently, you can't talk about such things: you can't cheat fate...
- What do you mean? Did something happen?
- One day, when I was really drunk, Tom blabbed to me about being in some kind of prank. Something to scare some cocky, commitment-phobic snob. Where, in principle, you wouldn't have to do anything, but for some reason I found the idea dubious. Tom didn't agree with me, though. We had a fight, and then Briskin left. That's all I can tell you.
The partners looked at each other meaningfully, guessing roughly who it was they were going to parrot.
- And tell me, sir, - Castle tried hard not to wrinkle his nose. - Did Tom have a friend, or just a man he trusted?
- Yes, - and the African looked somewhere behind the backs of partners. - There is such a person. And right now he is approaching us.
Rick turned first in the intended direction.
- ...gods of heaven... - he muttered, suddenly pale. - And I thought green witches didn't exist!
- Witches?! - Kate rolled her eyes skeptically, but when she turned to look in the same direction Castle was looking, she realized that he was right about something: a strange-looking woman was approaching them. Emerald-colored, greasy skirt, holey stockings the color of a toad's skin, a tattered, once dark green blouse, and a scarf around her neck that looked like a python's coloring, only faded and unsightly. Around her neck was a prehistoric reticule with a greasy cord, and on her head was an obscure hat with what looked like gnawed-off brim. Once olive, but now it was dark brown, stained and scorched. And from beneath this horrible hat there were tangled locks of bright red hair sticking out in all directions, as if they had never been touched by a hairdresser's hand. And the lady was obviously in a great deal of grief: an earthy-colored face with bluish under-eyes, and cheap mascara smeared with tears, which she tried unsuccessfully to wipe away with a dirty handkerchief.
- Hello, Hannah,- the receptionist waved her hand gently, inviting her in. - The gentlemen from the police are here, interested in Tom.
The lady moved slowly and a little slanted to the right, and when she approached and raised her frightened eyes to her partners, her lips quivered a little.
- From police? - She lowered her head half a step and stood frozen in place. - What's wrong with him?
Her smoky voice was barely audible to the partners, but Beckett was the first to step toward the woman.
- When was the last time you saw him, Ms. ...
- Hannah, just Hannah, - the woman said faintly. - About three days ago. He told me he'd caught a lucky break, and that he'd soon have a decent job. And money.
- And what?
Sobbing, Hannah covered herself with her hands.
- He said it like that... With a look on his face that made me think something else... That he was deceiving me... He forbade me to follow him, but I wouldn't listen.
- Did you see something? Or someone?
Hannah slowly raised her head and suddenly recoiled with a startled look.
- A man, tall and broad-shouldered - seemed to have a slight limp. Dark hoodie, hood over his head. He and Tom got into a van with no license plates. Also, the car had some kind of emblem on the side. I can't tell you what it was.
- Can you describe it? Give me a rough idea?!
- No, no, no, sir. - and Hannah suddenly waved her little wrinkled hands furiously. - I'm a little man and I don't remember anything!
Crossing herself, Hannah suddenly turned around and in a cloud of sour makeup and unwashed body hurried out. And the partners looked after her for a long, long time, probably thinking the same thing.