Kate Beckett, Investigator Chapter 7

Tom MacNee hands Kate a report with a string of results highlighted in red. "What's coming off those carpets could make the fumes from a superfund site seem like fresh air. Top of the hit parade are formaldehyde, benzene, ethylene glycol, carbolic acid, and styrene. There were also other contaminants at lower levels. But all together a very toxic brew."

"Benzene, isn't that what gave the cancer researcher's daughter leukemia in Robin Cook's Fever?" Kate asks.

"Hmm, not even one of your husband's novels. Then I don't have to worry about admitting I haven't read it. But," MacNee adds, "it's not an unreasonable premise. Styrene can be a very nasty little number as well. There is no way that fumes like these should be in the closed spaces of people's homes. And even with excellent ventilation, it could take quite a while to get to safe levels – assuming that for a mix like this safe levels even exist. In my opinion, it's not safe to install that crap – pardon my French – anywhere. It should be disposed of as hazardous waste. But I take it from your expression, that you're not surprised."

"No, I'm not. From everything my father and I know so far, the company involved with the project where this carpet is due to be installed is a longstanding bad actor."

"A situation to which I assume you plan to put an end."

"Damn right! And pardon my French, Tom."

A grin spreads across MacNee's craggy face. "No pardon necessary."

As Elliott Wigdor hurries down the aisle near her cubicle, Kate sets her expression to neutral and waves for his attention. "Mr. Wigdor, I know you were in a hurry for the latest results from Marley, but I haven't received a report yet."

Wigdor looks in with a smarmy smile. "I'm grateful that you're keeping on top of the matter, Ms. Dinkley, but given the timeframe, I requested that Marley send the results directly to me. And they're all well within appropriate limits. Nothing to worry about."

"I bet," Kate mutters as Wigdor rushes on. When the time comes, she'll have to make sure that her father subpoenas the chemist who actually ran the tests. Too bad she can't get Castle's favorite computer whiz to hack Marley's network, but no judge would ever allow anything obtained that way to be entered into evidence. The Becketts will have to go after all their documents the plodding legal way. Still, if it turns out that Gidon's versions don't match what Marley actually found, Nesgadol won't be able to claim ignorance. They will have clearly committed fraud – probably multiple times. Waterhouse should love that.

As Kate comes through the door of the loft, Castle bounces toward her. "I finished my first story of the series for The New Yorker. And Paula got them to agree to a deal so that I can eventually adapt the whole caboodle into a novel. We'll be nipping at Nesgadol's heels now and once you and your dad do the legal stuff, I can deliver the final insult with the book."

"So what did you end up naming your intrepid female investigator?" Kate asks.

"Right, the last time we talked about it I was still pondering the possibilities. "I settled on Adley Rains – as in Adley rains on your evil parade or Adley rains hell on piratical polluters. It has almost as many possibilities as Nikki Heat."

"It also doesn't sound as much like a stripper name," Kate points out.

"Which wouldn't work as well in Playboy but fits with a more generalized readership."

"So what is your first story called?"

"Unexpected Rains. But speaking of the unexpected, guess who's coming to dinner tonight?"

"Well, seeing as I smell lasagna, whoever's coming likes Italian."

"Which is a very large proportion of the population of New York – the country actually. Come on Kate, guess."

"You're rewarding Paula for getting you a deal?"

"I took her to Le Cirque for lunch. Here's a hint. What's Alexis been agonizing about?"

"Ah, the new boyfriend. Ashley, right? So we're feeding a teenage boy?"

"Yes, but also the teenage boy's parents. Alexis wants to bring Ashley along on that trip we're taking to Cooperstown with your Dad, and his parents want to check out our family. So your dad's coming too. He said he'd heard of George and Margaret Linden, Ashley's parents. They're economists who wrote a book that helped debunk a theory some rip-off artist was using to rob seniors of their life savings. He didn't have to call either of them as a witness in court. He had an expert closer to the case. But he remembered their names."

"Feeding that bunch is going to take a lot of lasagna," Kate notes.

"I used my party recipe. And I figured we could make a big salad and serve a couple of loaves of garlic bread. I can make espresso and I sent Alexis to Fratelli's for tiramisu for dessert."

Kate wraps her arms around Castle's neck. "My husband, the party planner."

"Except that I couldn't figure out a way to fit my seven-layer dip into the menu. Mmm, I wonder if George and Margaret play poker?"

"Somehow, I don't think this is the night to ask."

"Probably not," Castle agrees.

"So when is everyone arriving?"

"Your dad said he was going to catch an early meeting and he'd come after that. He thought he'd be here a little before seven. The Lindens said seven-fifteen. And according to Alexis, if they say seven-fifteen it's not seven-fourteen or seven-sixteen. They are extremely punctual, which is more than I can say for their son. On their first date, he was 20 minutes late and Alexis was sure she'd been stood up. Apparently, he'd gotten caught up playing a video game and lost track of time."

"So you have a new gaming partner?"

"I don't think so. The boy doesn't even like swordplay. How can you vanquish the goblin king if you don't swing a sword?"

"I would think that as the father of a teenage girl, you would be grateful that her boyfriend doesn't have his mind on swordplay," Kate suggests.

Castle moves in for a kiss. "The intrepid investigator makes an excellent point. Perhaps it would be best to keep Ashley's thoughts away from hard pointy things for as long as possible – at least around Alexis. I think when we go to Cooperstown, I'll get them rooms on separate floors. Better yet – separate hotels."

Kate rolls her eyes. "I think that might be pushing it a little."

"And I better push it a little if I'm going to have dinner ready on the metaphorical dot. I'm going to make the garlic butter for the bread. Can you start on the salad?"

"Whatever you need."

"Excellent! I found some great heirloom tomatoes – all kinds of colors. We've even got purple. And they can all use the masterful Beckett touch with a blade."

Kate trails her fingers below Castle's belt. "Always happy to use my Beckett touch with your blade."

He gasps. "If only the Lindens weren't so time-obsessed. Can we continue this, um, discussion later?"

"I'll look forward to it."

Castle pulls in a deep breath. It's going to be a long dinner, a very long dinner.