Author's Note: Now for what happens after the weekend in the Hamptons.
The Best-Laid Plans
Chapter 14
The first day back at work after a holiday weekend was always tough, Kate knew, and the first day after a vacation was even worse so there was basically no way the Tuesday after that Memorial Day would be a good day.
At least, she had made good time returning to the city. Apparently leaving shortly after breakfast had allowed her to beat most of the holiday traffic of people returning from their trips. But that also left her with rather too much time in her own apartment that seemed to positively echo with silence, seemed almost cavernous with the solitude of it (all the more absurd because her entire apartment would have fit into Castle's Hamptons mansion at least five times over with room to spare). She told herself it was silly and of course it was because she was used to living alone and had always preferred it (there was a reason she hadn't even considered moving in with Will when they'd been together) but somehow, after even just a weekend of having Castle and Alexis around, it was harder than she ever would have expected to return to solitude. So yes, it was ridiculous but she couldn't entirely deny it either. Had even turned on the TV to have some background noise as she'd taken care of some chores, cleaning her apartment and doing her laundry.
And at night, as usual–and as she was reluctantly coming to expect–she dreamed about Castle, about his hands and his mouth and his body over her, surrounding her, and about lying in his arms afterwards.
Making her own coffee in her solitary apartment seemed particularly dreary that morning and she really didn't know when her own coffee had stopped being satisfactory but she didn't like it. Oh, she was being ridiculous! Stupid, honestly.
Out of patience with her own self, Kate was not in the best of moods when she arrived at the precinct but–even more absurdly–she felt her mood somewhat lifting a little as she settled into her chair. She tried to tell herself it was because she did, after all, like her job for the most part but she couldn't convince herself of it when she was all too aware that her mood had really lifted on seeing Castle's chair by her desk, a silent reminder that he would be showing up soon enough, with his coffee and his smiles.
With that thought in her mind, she started going through the emails that had accumulated over the long weekend and then moved on to the usual paperwork that seemed never-ending.
She had just begun to wonder where Castle was–it was after 9 already so later than he normally showed up–when her phone vibrated on her desk and she glanced at it to see that Castle had just texted.
She smiled a little, in spite of herself, as she picked up her phone to read the message only for her smile to fade, her spirits lowering.
Hey Beckett. I was thinking I'd better buckle down and spend the next couple days writing. I do have a book due and if I don't get it done soon, the next murder you'll be investigating will be mine.
Followed by another one almost immediately afterwards: But text or call if you get a new case and I'll be there. A real life murder takes precedence over a fictional one.
And finally: Tell the boys to try not to miss me too much.
The last characteristic note made her huff a little laugh.
I'm sure we'll survive without you somehow, she responded.
His response was almost instant. Sure, you'll survive. You just won't have as much fun.
We'll get more work done without you around to distract us, that's for sure. Now, go write.
Your command is my wish–wait, is that not how the line usually goes? Which piece of silliness was followed up by a winking emoji.
She huffed another little laugh and then forced herself to put her phone down and, now that the immediate amusement over messaging him was over, found her smile fading. Oh, damn. Really, it was silly to feel so down! She'd gotten along just fine at work long before Richard Castle had ever shown up and she could manage without him for a few days without moping.
With that determination, she returned to her paperwork with grim focus that was interrupted about half an hour later when the boys wandered over to her desk.
"Yo, Beckett," was Espo's greeting. "Have a good holiday? Looks like you got some sun."
"I did, thanks. Good to have a few days without you two clowns bothering me," she returned with a smirk.
Espo made a face at her.
"Say, Beckett, where's Castle?" Ryan inserted.
She gave him a look. "Hello to you too, Ryan."
Ryan had the grace to look a little abashed, although not for long. "Hi." He paused and then smirked as he repeated, "Where's Castle?"
"What am I? Castle's babysitter?"
"Yes," Ryan shot back without missing a beat. "So where is he?"
For a moment, she could really almost wish she didn't know. "He said he needed to finish up his book but to let him know if a body drops."
"Thought he would have had time to write over the long weekend," Ryan commented.
She fought back the treacherous heat she felt rising in her cheeks at the thought of what Castle had spent the weekend doing other than writing and her last, um, ploy at helping his procrastination. "I'm not in charge of his writing schedule," she clipped out, self-consciousness making her voice sharper than she intended–even though she knew there was no way either of the boys would know or guess that she'd spent the weekend in the Hamptons with Castle, let alone that she'd had sex with him (again). "How should I know?"
Ryan blinked a little at her tone. "Just wondering aloud, that's all."
"Well, keep your wondering to yourself or ask him if you care so much."
"Think I'd better get back to my paperwork," Ryan mumbled before leaving.
Espo lingered, giving her an odd look. "Everything okay?"
She forcibly softened her tone and managed a faint smile. "First day back at work after a holiday blues, you know."
"Right," he drew the word out slowly, not looking entirely convinced (damn his perceptiveness) but also not willing to push back.
"And you know how I love paperwork," she added.
He cracked a faint smirk at that. "Yeah, you and me both." He gave her a last look but then nodded and left.
The rest of the day dragged. Felt more like eight days, rather than eight hours. And she couldn't deny even to herself that it was because of Castle, or rather because of the absence of Castle. She lost count of the number of times she caught herself glancing over to his chair, some comment or other on the tip of her lips, or just expecting to see him. Funny–well, not at all funny–how accustomed she'd become to having him around, even on paperwork days when he kept her supplied with coffee and snacks and the occasional joke or random piece of trivia to enliven the day.
Playing Hangman with him just last week was only the latest of his many and numerous ways of providing distraction and some amusement on slow days, like his announcing it was National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day and insisting on running out and bringing back a box of such cookies for the bullpen or engaging in a paper airplane contest with the boys and a couple other uniforms (when Captain Montgomery wasn't around) or making a paper crane for her.
She just… oh damn! She just missed him. She might tell herself, and she did, that it was stupid, absurd, to miss someone she had after all just seen the day before and didn't necessarily see every day as it was but for all that, she couldn't deny that she did miss him. Damn it. How had the man just wormed his way into her life the way he had, going from being an annoyance to being, well, someone she missed?
What was worse, and even more dismaying, was that it wasn't only at the precinct either. Which was stupid because it wasn't as if Castle had ever even been to her new apartment but somehow, she kept thinking of him when she was home too. Couldn't escape him. His books on her bookshelves, the phantom presence on her couch, in her bed.
She didn't sleep well, courtesy of yet more erotic dreams about Castle, and she was, again, not in a good mood when she arrived at the precinct and it was worse today because she couldn't be sure she would see Castle since she expected he would still be writing.
Unless a body dropped. But she was not–absolutely refused–to start hoping for a murder just so she could see Castle, even if she reasoned that she wouldn't be hoping for the murder in itself, only for the one of the inevitable murders that happened in Manhattan every day to be assigned to her. Not that she was thinking about it.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming text and she felt her mood lifting a little as she saw that it was from Castle. Miss me yet?
Enjoying the peace and quiet, more like, she returned (untruthfully).
Sigh. Would it kill you to flatter me even once?
She smirked. It might and I'd rather not take that kind of risk.
It's tragic to see a sense of humor so misapplied.
Funny, Castle, I could say the same to you.
Hey, I'm funny! Ask anyone! I'm known for my charm and my humor!
Okay, I'll ask Perlmutter if he thinks you're funny.
That's not fair. I meant, ask any human, not some misanthropic, humorless alien race, of which Perlmutter is clearly a member.
She huffed a laugh, becoming aware that she was grinning at her phone like a loon. I'm telling him you said that.
Are cops supposed to threaten innocent civilians like that?
She sternly schooled her expression into something approaching sobriety but her smirk was a recalcitrant pupil. Since when are you innocent?
If you're just going to mock me, I'm going to get back to my writing.
Good luck finishing the book. Ryan's getting a little mopey without you.
Kate put her phone away with a mental shake and dove into her paperwork, forcing herself to focus.
"Beckett."
Captain Montgomery's voice had her looking up with a spurt of relief she couldn't deny. It likely wouldn't be a new case but any interruption from paperwork was welcome. "Yes, sir."
Montgomery approached quickly. "I want you and your team to go over to this address–" he rattled off the address and she jotted it down quickly. "You'll find Mendez and Sloane are already there and you can either send them back or keep them around if you think it's necessary," he went on, naming two beat cops.
She inwardly frowned. "Has there been a murder?"
He made a small face. "Not as far as I know. Just listen. A man named Ben Wardlow has just been found dead after an assumed drug overdose. This Wardlow is the CFO of the financial company, Briggs Morris, and he happened to be a big donor and friend of the Mayor."
The Mayor. Oh, she was starting to see what was going on.
"The Mayor is concerned, not only because Wardlow is a friend of his, but because of his concerns of what his death under such circumstances might mean for Briggs Morris, which is a big enough company that if such a thing got out–illegal drug use by their CFO–it could affect the market too and that would make a lot of important people in this town unhappy. That said, the Mayor's just called and he asked for you, if you weren't working on another case and with the understanding that if another actual murder comes up, you could be called away but until then, he'd like you to look into this. It may be nothing more than what it seems, in which case we would just be talking about an hour or two of work, but he wants to dot every i, cross every t, you know what I mean."
She nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand."
Montgomery eyed her for a moment. "Any questions?"
By which she knew he meant any objections to being sent out to what was most likely a job for a uniform cop and not a detective if it was an overdose. "No, sir. I'll head out right now," she informed him, with all the more readiness because overdose or not, it was still a reason to get away from paperwork.
"Good. Keep me posted, Beckett," Montgomery nodded and returned to his office.
She briefly hesitated as she pocketed her phone but then decided–reluctantly–that there was little point in calling Castle. It wasn't a murder after all so in all likelihood this whole thing would be over within an hour or so, once she confirmed an accidental overdose with the ME's office. No point in dragging him out for that. And, she couldn't help but think, the faster he was able to finish his book, the faster he would be back in the precinct as usual.
"Hey guys, field trip," she paused by their desk on her way out of the bullpen.
The boys leaped up with an alacrity that betrayed their own tiredness of doing paperwork so it wasn't until they were in the elevator that Espo asked, "What's up? New case?"
"Not exactly." She gave them the address and a quick summary of what to expect.
Espo eyed her. "Okay, since when do we go look into an overdose?"
She gave him a look. "Since the Mayor asked us to. Unless you want to be the one to tell the Mayor that you'd rather not?"
He grimaced a little in acknowledgement. "Point taken," he nodded. "See you there."
She lifted a hand before she slid into her car, glancing over at the passenger seat of her own volition before she shook herself. Get a hold of yourself, Kate.
Wardlow's building wasn't far, since it was within the jurisdiction of the Twelfth, so she and the boys made it there before too many minutes had passed, heading straight to the victim's apartment. The building was a testament to the amount of money Wardlow must have made, to be expected from a Wall Street guy, and certainly not the average haunt of a drug addict but then again, it did take all kinds.
Sloane was standing watch outside the apartment and she greeted him before entering the apartment. It was large, almost as big as the loft, although it appeared to only be the one story. She noted a hallway in one corner, no doubt leading to the bedroom, but her focus was on the front room where the body was. Mendez was standing over in one corner talking to another man in a business suit and someone else who, she guessed, was probably the building super.
She directed the boys to go talk to Mendez and the other men, get the story of the body's discovery, while she went straight to the body. Wardlow looked as if he were still dressed for work, had just taken off his tie and his blazer which were slung over the back of a chair, and his sleeves were rolled up for the needle still sticking out of his left arm. And beside his chair on an end table was a glass of wine with just a few drops of wine in the bottom of the glass. Something seemed odd to her–aside from the obvious, that most overdose deaths didn't happen to middle-aged rich men who wore expensive suits–but she couldn't put her finger on what.
She glanced around, noted a decanter for the wine, on a side table.
The place was neat, organized. It didn't look like any other overdose victim's home she'd ever seen but then again, she couldn't claim to be an expert.
She wasn't sure what more there was to see–she couldn't move the body until the ME arrived–but she turned to head towards the hallway to check out the rest of the apartment. There had to be evidence somewhere of his drug use, just to confirm.
She paused when she just caught the faint tones of a voice outside greeting Sloane. Wait, she knew that voice, it set off little sparks in her auditory synapses. And sure enough, she turned to see Castle walking in.
Just the sight of him and she had to fight to keep a smile off her face–not appropriate now!
"Yo, Castle, what are you doing here? Did Beckett call you?" Ryan greeted.
"Hey, guys. I thought you might be missing me," he responded glibly but she caught his quick glance at her that was withdrawn equally quickly.
"Castle," she greeted and then could have kicked herself for sounding almost breathless. "How did you–"
"The Mayor called me," he interrupted, guessing her question. "He thought I'd already know, actually, since you were on the scene."
She inwardly cringed. There hadn't been, she didn't think, any reproach or anything like that in his tone but his glance at her was a little cautious and she felt an absurd little prick of guilt. "You said to call if there was a murder but I didn't want to interrupt your writing for what was probably just a run-of-the-mill overdose, no matter who the victim is."
His expression eased faintly. "I get it, Beckett, but I'm here now so I might as well help, right? Besides, I knew Wardlow."
Oh, she supposed that made sense, if Wardlow had been a friend and big donor of the Mayor's. "Oh, you were friends? I'm sorry."
He made a rueful grimace as he looked down at Wardlow. "I wouldn't say we were friends. I'd just met him a handful of times at fundraisers for the Mayor."
"Oh. Did you have any idea about this?" She gestured to the needle in Wardlow's arm.
"I doubt I would have but the problem is that I honestly can't see it. Wardlow was just not that kind of man. I didn't know him well but he was about as straight-laced and frankly, a little boring, a guy as you'd ever meet. The sort of guy who would ask for a fancy ballpoint pen as a gift, you know."
"Sometimes people have hidden depths," she offered but it did make her wonder. "I was just going to check out the rest of the apartment."
He opened his mouth but his response was lost as Lanie and a few other ME techs walked in.
"Lanie," she greeted.
"Beckett, what are you doing here?" Lanie returned. "This isn't your usual scene."
"He's a friend of the Mayor," she answered briefly.
Lanie nodded in understanding. "Okay, then. Well, I'll try to be quick about the results."
Kate and Castle turned back to go down the hall and she glanced at him to see a small, pensive frown on his face. "What is it?"
"Something's niggling at me, something about Wardlow, but I can't put my finger on it."
"It'll come to you," she assured him confidently. She knew how quick he was, how retentive his memory was.
The office was the first room off the hall and they stepped inside, another neat room but more obviously used with papers on the desk along with a computer, the day's Wall Street Journal on one corner of the desk.
She glanced idly over the papers on the desk but then froze, her head jerking up. "Wait a minute. He's–"
"Left-handed!" she and Castle finished in messy unison and she glanced at him to see that his eyes had gone wide and bright, the way he looked when he'd suddenly realized something.
That was what had been niggling at her in the front room too, that the wine glass had been by the victim's left hand, not his right, and then seeing his handwriting and the way the desk was organized had solidified her suspicion.
"That was what I was trying to remember! I remember noticing it the last time I saw him," he spoke rapidly.
"But the needle was in his left arm–"
"But what are the chances he used his non-dominant hand to inject himself?"
"No," she almost cut him off. "He wouldn't."
"Then this wasn't an accident."
They exchanged quick smiles and she was aware of a rush of something like gladness–inappropriate as it seemed–but they had a new case and she and Castle were functioning as a team and she couldn't help but think that this, this partnership, the exhilaration she felt when they were on the same wavelength like this, was the best part of working with him. This was what she could not risk.
He turned on his heel and she hurried to follow, returning to the front room, catching Lanie and the ME techs just as they were preparing to move the body.
"He was left-handed," she burst out the moment they entered, getting everyone's attention. "This wasn't an accidental overdose."
"But no one would just sit and let someone stick a needle in them," Ryan objected, not forcefully, more questioningly.
"The wine," Espo and Castle blurted out.
"It could have been drugged–" Castle began.
"So he would have been unconscious, then the scene was staged, perfectly done to look like an accident," she finished for him and went on, now sure of her ground. "Lanie, make sure you bag the wine glass and the decanter, test them both. We'll need the results back ASAP to confirm foul play. Mendez, Sloane, call up CSU and get them out here. Espo, Ryan, start canvassing the neighbors, see if anyone saw or heard anything." She turned to the man she guessed was the building super. "Sir, are you the super?"
"Yes, ma'am," the man jerked to attention. "Victor Felton."
"Mr. Felton, do you have any surveillance cameras in the building?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"And there's no front desk either," she remembered. "Okay, we'll just have to do this the hard way." She turned to the man in the business suit. "And sir, you are?"
"Eli Nickelson. I work with Wardlow. The Chairman of the Board sent me here to find him when he didn't show up for this morning's Board meeting." He paused. "Oh god, I'll need to call the Chairman again, let him know this wasn't an accident. There's going to be–we'll need to–" He was starting to look and sound overwhelmed.
She quickly stepped in. "Thank you, Mr. Nickelson. I assume Detectives Esposito and Ryan have your contact info and if so, you can feel free to leave, get back to the office. I'm sure you must have a lot to do. Tell the Chairman that we will be visiting shortly and will need access to Wardlow's office and his files."
"Yes, of course." Nickelson didn't bother to wait and left almost immediately.
"I need to call the Captain, update him on what's going on," she addressed the room generally. "And then I'll stop by the morgue for your report, Lanie," she added.
Lanie nodded and waved a hand at the ME techs and as if that had been the signal, everyone moved, Espo and Ryan heading out to start canvassing.
"Come on, let's take a quick look over the rest of this place," Kate addressed Castle as she turned to head back down the hall.
She caught his glance, the faint quirk of his lips, as he fell into step beside her. "What?"
"You're kinda scary when you get all bossy, throwing out orders right and left," he commented.
"I have a job to do and considering who the victim is, we need to get started."
"I know. I'm just saying. You are kinda scary." He paused and then added, "It's also hot."
She choked on air, turning it into a cough, and fought back the surge of heat rushing into her cheeks. "You're freakish, you know that," she managed, trying to sound dry.
"Yeah, I know," he returned lightly.
He really was adorable, with his half-sheepish, half-smug look. She didn't know why but she felt heat flaring in her cheeks and had to force herself to turn away. "We have a case," she managed, attempting to sound brisk. "Focus. What more do you know about Wardlow?"
"Not much, really. Married but no kids–thankfully, I suppose. I've met his wife a couple times at various events too; her name's, um, Christine, I think? I got the impression he's a workaholic and she keeps herself busy with charity work, things like that."
Venturing into the master bedroom showed that Castle was right about Wardlow being married, not that she'd doubted it, as there were pictures of Wardlow with a blonde middle-aged woman. "Only one toothbrush," she noted as they checked the bathroom, always a good place to learn about people. "And it looks like some of her toiletries and makeup are gone too."
"I haven't heard anything about a separation or anything but then again, I haven't been out on the social scene lately so I wouldn't know."
"Well, we can ask about it when we talk to her." She paused, hesitated. "It'll be helpful that you know her."
He made a rather wry face. "I wouldn't be so sure of that. It's not like we're friends or anything, just acquaintances. I've met her a handful of times and I don't think I exchanged more than 20 words with her each time."
"You'll still be a familiar face, better than an anonymous cop." Besides, she thought he was underestimating himself. He was good with people but dealing with bereaved women might have been his strong suit; his sincere sympathy, his compassion, were evident and when combined with his looks, well, she was relatively sure just about any woman with a pulse would respond. "How's the writing coming? You sure you have time to help out?"
He lifted a hand to his chest. "Why, Detective Beckett, I'm touched. Are you so eager to read the next Nikki Heat book?"
"I'm just doing my duty as a cop and trying to prevent your own imminent murder since you did say your publisher would murder you if you didn't get your first draft in soon," she returned.
He made a face. "Your concern is heartwarming," he drawled. "But for your information, I'm almost done. I finished up the final confrontation scenes so all that's left are the last clean-up chapters. Anyway, the Mayor asked to be kept updated so, duty calls."
"Can't disappoint the Mayor," she agreed, trying to sound bland, not give away the absurd rush of relief she felt at his assurance that he was staying. Stupid, to care so much about his presence, but she did.
They exchanged smiles and she tried but couldn't deny the uplift of her spirits, entirely inappropriately, considering they were standing in a murder victim's bedroom, but there it was.
"I don't see anything that looks relevant here," he commented after a moment.
She cast a last sweeping glance around. "No, me either. Hopefully, the boys will have gotten something from their canvass."
~To be continued…~
A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers.
