-Where did Mr. Castle go? We haven't even met him yet! - a sweaty brunette expert named Lanie Parish was finishing the evidence. - Had he never seen his books before? Or was he wounded by such free treatment of them?
Parish, of course, turned to Beckett, who, watching the work of experts, was in deep thought.
- I'm not aware of his vulnerability, Lainey, - Kate pulled off her creaky gloves and slipped them into her pocket, - and, of course, I don't know about the subtleties of the author's soul, but Castle, like any other person, may have skeletons in his closet. And even if they prevent him in the investigation, there is always a man who can neutralize them. Well, if Castle just can't keep up with our frantic pace, I'm not gonna be too upset about it either.
- Then why did you collect his books? Why go to book signings? Well, not for declarations of love, of course, and I remember that all this was a prehistory. But what's the rest of it?
- I just love detective novels, - and Beckett quickly hid her gaze. - And I don't just read Castle. He's passable, one of many.
- I see, - Lainey said in a low voice, clicking the locks of her briefcase. - I thought that, given the unusual circumstances of Castle's appearance here, you might want to take a closer look at him, because he's very charming and attractive. And here's another thing: a limited and feeble-minded type would never have written so many books, but Castle's novels are read with interest and honored quite deservedly ...
With a strained smile, Beckett snorted dismissively.
- He's a master of narcissism and braggadocio, I've noticed. And it's not necessarily his abstruse theses that will affect the outcome of his case. Castle's is just a big mouth and a lot of imagination, but we have years of practical experience.
- You want to bet on the outcome, girlfriend, who gets to the bottom of this first? Castle has a powerful incentive. He's a victim, and from what the guys are saying about him, Castle's not gonna give up.
- Well, what's in it for me? - Kate remained stubborn as she watched the paramedics bag the body. - Once again, I'm not interested in Castle, and everything that surrounds him - too!
- Yeah, yeah,- Lainey smiled enigmatically, - I get it. Well, if you say nothing, then to me then, perhaps more, will tell that beautiful girl over there. Who has nowhere to rush and plenty of time.
...On the way to the loft, the bar's twinkling lights beckoned to him, and Castle didn't resist. He went home already in a particular drink, but as soon as he opened the desk drawer to pull out one, carefully saved photo, as the hop has been erased from the author's brain. All that was left was a headache and an overbearing, suffocating lump in his chest. And if not to talk about the recent poisoning, he had not felt so bad for a long time... Not since the day he'd said goodbye.
The lights were on in the loft, but Rick turned on the desk lamp, looking at the photograph and the book he'd placed next to it: his past had been so powerful that all that was left was the agony of his heart and this frame...
Castle sighed heavily and covered the picture with the palm of his hand: and how beautifully it all began, and these two faces, two spiritualized laughing faces again appeared before his eyes ... It was impossible to forget, nor to put out of his mind... a pair of handsome young men in love with each other. And this photo, which stirred up memories of long ago: in the background - the river and mossy rocks - their favorite place of rest. Where it was possible, secretly pitching a tent, to have a picnic and swim without fear of the treacherous depths, and afterwards - to throw themselves into an embrace. Powerfully, undividedly, to unconsciousness, so that then to wake up early in the morning, admiring her sleeping serenely, and immediately take up a notebook. And dedicate to his muse first - a paragraph, then - a chapter, and after - and the whole book ...
Rick made his first drafts of that memorable novel at the beginning of his acquaintance with Kira Blaine, but before their close, trusting relationship. Before that, frankly speaking, Rick often lacked inspiration, but that accidental meeting and spun him, and carried him away. And when they were really immersed in each other, the productivity of his work accelerated tremendously. Because the book was dedicated to a dear, close to him person - the one and only, the sun, his pink velvet "flower", which was worth loving and which could be constantly admired. To enjoy private conversations, to feed on ice cream from her firm young breasts, to drink wine on a brouderchafte, staying in each other, and to hold hands firmly but gently at the Sunday fair. Wake up together and fall asleep together, prepare for lectures hand in hand and walk together in the mall, giving cute trinkets and inconspicuous signs of attention - everything that connected two trembling, loving hearts.
To start sketching - and then stumble suddenly; to wait, bored, for Kira to start caressing him, and to hold in his head what came to mind, so that, before the "when," he would have time to sketch a couple of pages. And then a hot and intense cuddle to break up again before the next day. And it would seem that forever so and will be, that they were made for each other, but adult life has already dictated its priorities.
And so he, Castle (and then - Richard Rogers) signed a military contract: it was a conscious choice, without which it is impossible to be in the future, and therefore without a long, tedious separation was impossible. And Rick hoped that Kira would understand him, would not take it personally and would wait for him, for both their sakes, but her smile at his words suddenly faded and a shadow fell on her face. And that day they said goodbye, dryly and without fire, but to ease the tension, Rick organized that memorable weekend. Where it was possible to calm down, to cheer up the beloved, to distract from heavy thoughts, and just to relax in nature.
And they bathed there together, and hugged selflessly, and photographed "for a long memory" with a bouquet of roses and without. And understanding, it seems, reached - Kira promised to wait, but Rick felt with his skin, that their strong looking relationship gave a small, but tangible crack. And living on the hope of a quick meeting, Castle risked himself, fighting and on the way out of captivity, and lay in hospitals, continuing to believe, believe and believe. In them, in the power of love and resilience to adversity, if not for one "but": one of the conditions of the contract was a ban on communication. This meant that Kira could write to him, but to answer her Castle could not ...
And that tormented most of all, burning from the inside, made him yearn and rage. When he read her sorrowful letters, he vividly imagined her sadness: a wistful stopped look, a large tear running down her cheek and vibrating in thin fingers ballpoint pen, which made uneven her always neat and neat handwriting. And only once did Castle manage to scribble a few lines to his beloved, avoiding details. He could not tell her anything about himself, neither how he had fought nor what he had suffered, and only the encouragement and faith in the message gave him some hope. For a quick meeting, for happiness, but when the contract finally expired, Castle realized that his love was only smoke.
They met by inertia, for a while longer, but there was no longer that fire, that excitement, that disposition and trust, as there had been before, and when Kira asked her to let go, Rick didn't resist...
She was leaving, far away and irrevocably, and he stood with his hands down and didn't know what to do with his wounded heart: eyes burning with dry tears, an impenetrable lump in his chest and a nervous shiver in his back and knees. It was as if he had been whipped with a whip, but there was no one to complain to and no reason to complain. Only time could save him...
Slowly and reluctantly, Castle put the book frame away in the desk, turned off the lamp, and dropped his head onto his folded hands in front of him. He could still feel the treacherous trembling in his legs, and that nasty pinching feeling of loneliness that would long haunt his soul. One hope that they, together with Beckett, would solve this bloody bloody rebus, which had grown roots from the past, and it would be good if he, Castle, had another, new muse, for whom it would be worth living and, perhaps, even suffering...
- Allow me to introduce myself! - at Ryan's prompting, searching for Beckett, Rick peeked into the prosector's room. - I'm the writer Richard Castle!
There were two women inside the dazzlingly polished room: Castle's mystery partner and the mysterious brunette from the fireplace inspection. Wearing glasses and with a scalpel in her hand, leaning over the table where the body was sprawled, the brunette turned her head interestedly.
- The one? - and she straightened up to her full height, flirtatiously pulling off her uniform and smiling kindly. - In person?
- The real one! - and Rick clapped his chest audibly, leisurely approaching the ladies. - Are you the Queen of the Realm of the Dead?
- More like a court thanatologist... Lainie Parish, medical examiner.
And she made a hand gesture in greeting. Castle returned the favor, only more artistic and casual.
- Nice to meet you. Future Pulitzer winner! Can just - Castle or Rick!
Lainey nodded in understanding, and Beckett, who stood on the other side of the table without gloves, touched the corner of her mouth with her fingers and rounded her eyes.
- What a hypertrophied conceit! And what are you, Mr. Future, doing here? As I've already understood, you're not afraid of corpses, but respect for the dead is nothing to you either. So what is it, then?
- You obviously haven't gotten much sleep, Detective, - Castle murmured velvetly, but his charming smile touched only Laney. - Well, I was rested. And you know nothing about my fantastic efficiency, nor about no less unrivaled tendency to analyze, which will allow me to prove myself, and you, detective, will not regret that you took me as a partner.
- I already am! I told you, lainie, mr. Castle is a little overrated, - turning to Parish, Kate fixed her bangs that were slipping down over her eyes. - And if he were a little closer to reality, I wouldn't have to babysit him...
- Oh, you mean my sudden departure? - Castle got a little sad, but Kate didn't think it would last. - It's the past, detective, and if we do well, we'll live to deal with it. What about your past?
Beckett yawned loudly, her whole demeanor showing that the conversation had taken a wrong turn.
- You'll never know, Castle. Anything substantive to say?
- I'm about to! А... where?
Lanie pointed to a nearby, distant table, and Castle tiptoed over to it. He stood at the victim's headboard and frantically crossed himself before lifting the sheet.
- She doesn't bite, Mr. Castle,- Parish chuckled restrainedly as she watched her guest's every move. - My patients are generally the most humble "specimens" in the world.
- And they don't have curses? - Castle threw back the sheet and now thoughtfully looked at what was once the face of the victim. - What is called burned alive in the devil's furnace... Any foreign objects in the bronchi?
- No, but there's a puncture mark in the lower pelvis, luckily, almost unaffected by the fire. And the victim, like you, Castle, was stunned with the same drug, only Hanna was less fortunate. And when our bad guy doused her with gasoline and set her on fire, all she could do was scream...
- I heard that, - Castle grimaced, - I wish the bastard was in her shoes. Only we will not use such barbaric ways ... I'll figure out which ones later.
The women looked at each other enigmatically.
- Do the boys have any leads? - Kate moved to Hanna's body, nibbling her lips thoughtfully, and Castle nodded affirmatively.
- The sausage peddler a block away from where you and I were knew Hannah by sight, and he'd seen her being led under the arms of some guys: she'd barely resisted. The dudes' faces were hidden, too, and there was a black van with some kind of emblem on it, but it was faded and faded. I don't know about you, but I really want to get to the bottom of this! And is there any more news on the ladies' bloody-party?
- There is,- Lainey hummed discreetly and set the scalpel aside.
She pulled off her gloves and goggles and went to her desk, where a small stack of paper rested on the edge. Digging through it, she handed the document she was looking for to Castle.
He picked it up excitedly and lively, and immediately delved into the reading.
- Hmmm. Identical male DNA from the knife and the reticule. Suspect's age is in his 40s. The rest of the data will have to wait?
- Yeah! Uh, Castle, do you have any ill-wishers of that age?
- Some are gone and some are nowhere to be found, - and Castle turned over the last sheet. - But when we figure him out, Beckett, promise you'll share the handcuffs with me.
The ladies snorted in puzzlement.
- Is that for you to stay out of the way?
- No! Castle was dead serious, - It's for the guy who killed two innocent people just to spite me. One he just trapped, the other he poisoned, and no one saw the end of the drama... And this mysterious van...
And at that moment Beckett's phone rang: she listened to the interlocutor, shaking her head slightly.
- You're lucky, Castle, because you're spared from having to watch a lot of street video. And Esposito said something about the emblem we're interested in-it belongs to a long-defunct volunteer organization,- and Beckett tucked the phone into her pocket, - and if you have the strength and health to accompany me, Castle, there's a chance you could get closer to solving our case. You coming, Castle?
And he jumped almost to the ceiling with joy.
- Yes!