Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: Posting a day early because I won't be able to post tomorrow.
Then Came Love
Chapter 15
They returned to the front room to meet up with the boys, returned from their canvass of the neighbors.
"Beckett, we think we got something," Espo greeted her. "One of the neighbors down the hall may have seen something."
"Daniel Farber in Unit 12B," Ryan inserted.
"He ordered a pizza last night around 10, and when he opened the door for the pizza guy, he saw someone just leaving, going down the hallway. A woman, he said."
"He said she could have been leaving either this apartment or the one next door and no one's home next door so we can't be sure but it's a chance," Ryan finished.
"A woman," Castle noted, glancing at her with raised brows. "An affair while his wife is out of town?"
"Hate to burst your bubble," Espo interjected, "but the neighbor doesn't think so. We asked. He said she was wearing a business suit, one reason why he thought she was probably leaving the victim's place."
"He could still be having an affair, just with a co-worker, hence the suit," Castle objected. "Leaving Castle's theorizing about sex aside," she cut in, "you said the neighbor didn't see her face? Did he provide details about hair color, length, height?"
Espo made a face. "He's not one of those observant types and said he only really saw the person out of the corner of his eyes and wasn't paying attention so not really. He heard the sound of her heels so he knew it was a woman and he's pretty sure she was a brunette, but beyond that, he wasn't sure."
"Average height and build, he thought, so nothing unusual," Ryan chimed in.
"But nothing helpful either," she noted. "The building doesn't have cameras but Ryan, check and see if there are any street cams that cover the front entrance of the building. We have the time frame so maybe we'll be able to match the mysterious visitor to anyone we see from the victim's life."
It wasn't the most helpful line of investigation and of course, it required coming up with actual suspects first and working backwards from there, and judging from the unenthused expression on Ryan's face, he knew it, but he only nodded.
"Okay, thanks. Finish up the canvassing. We'll go check in at the morgue and then head to the precinct to brief the Captain and go from there."
The stop at the morgue proved to be brief because Lanie was just in the middle of the autopsy and barely looked up as she confirmed that the wine was drugged with enough morphine in it to take down a horse, let alone a man, so Wardlow would definitely have been unconscious after finishing the glass. Beyond that, she estimated the time of death to have been between 9 and midnight.
"So, I guess you were right, it is murder," Castle commented on the way back to the precinct.
She glanced at him. "I think we were both right. You remembered that the vic was left-handed to figure out he couldn't have injected himself."
"Well, since you insist, I can take the credit for it."
She huffed a laugh. "I said we were right, not just you. Or didn't Martha ever teach you that it's nice to share?" she teased.
"She tried but I won't comment on how successful she was."
"Not very, I imagine, knowing how modest you are."
He threw her a grin, which she returned, and for a moment, their smiling eyes met and held and she felt a little flutter in her chest–but then she hurriedly jerked her eyes away, focusing on the signal that had (fortunately) yet to turn green.
"I'm surprised, Castle, no theories that Wardlow might have secretly been a spy and that's why he was killed," she hurriedly fell back on teasing.
He pretended to sigh. "As appealing as the idea is, I just can't fit it in with the man I knew so no, for once, I have to concede that this isn't some big conspiracy involving espionage."
"Only this once, huh?"
"Well, you never know what might happen so I'm not going to say it'll never happen. Besides, the more cases we work, the probability that one of them will involve actual spies goes up, right?"
"Math isn't your strong suit, is it," she drawled.
He laughed at that. "Fair point. Oh, but I'll ask Alexis. She's much better at math than I ever was."
"I'm sure she is. And even Princeton knows it."
"What can I say, my daughter is brilliant."
"I wonder where she gets it from," she needled.
But he only smiled. "Yeah, I wonder the same thing."
"How is Alexis doing, anyway?"
Castle's answer took the rest of the time back to the precinct as he expounded freely on Alexis, busy finishing up final papers and then studying for her finals next week, but also mentioning how Alexis had heard from Princeton about her dorm assignment and reached out to the girl who would be her roommate over the summer, as well as her RA, just to get to know them before she arrived.
Back at the precinct, Montgomery was, as she supposed she should have expected, waiting for them, emerging from his office the moment they stepped off the elevator. "Beckett. Castle," he greeted, with a nod, before returning his gaze to her. "I heard you said it's a homicide after all. CSU is already on the scene. What can you tell me? I've already had the Mayor call me wanting to know what's going on."
She gave him a quick summary of the reasons they'd suspected foul play and Lanie's confirmation of it just now, as well as mentioning the neighbor who might have witnessed something.
"Good catch," Montgomery approved before grimacing ruefully, "but you know, you've just handed me a headache."
She made a small face of sympathy. "I'm aware, sir. Has his wife been notified?"
"Yes, she was apparently out of town but she was called the moment the body was found and she's on her way in now. She should be here shortly."
"Okay, thank you. We'll wait to speak with her first and then go over to the victim's office."
Montgomery nodded. "Get to it, Detective, and keep me apprised."
She nodded crisply and she and Castle made their way back to her desk. It was going to be a long day, she could already tell, and while Montgomery hadn't said it, she knew he–and the team–was going to be under some pressure to solve this case quickly and cleanly. Not, of course, that their efforts varied depending on the victim but it was still something to keep in mind.
"I think we could both use coffee," he volunteered and headed towards the break room and she couldn't quite help the little flicker of warmth inside her. She didn't know how but he did seem to have a sixth sense for when she needed a caffeine fix or a snack. Because he cared–the thought darted across her mind and she pushed it aside. They were friends and from what she knew of him, he was just a caring person, generally kind.
She started to work on putting together the murder board with what little information they had so far and Castle returned shortly with coffee for both of them.
She accepted hers with a quick, faint smile of thanks and took a slow sip, breathing in the familiar scent of the coffee. Mm, this hit the spot. (And wondered peripherally why Castle's coffee somehow seemed… different, better… than the coffee she made herself. For that matter, why the espresso machine never seemed to cooperate that well with her, silly as the thought was.)
"Oh, if it helps, I just remembered that Briggs Morris's website has short bios of the board members, which included Wardlow. It'll be background information, although I don't know how helpful it will be."
"It could be," she agreed. "Good thought."
He brightened up and immediately pulled out his phone to look up the website. She sipped her coffee and listened to the victim's potted CV, making mental notes, and then pausing to jot down on the murder board a few names of the other board members, who would have been the ones who worked most closely with him. None of it was immediately relevant but at this point, they knew so little about the victim that any of it had the potential to be helpful.
She and Castle then moved on to discussing which of the victim's coworkers to talk to first, attempting to strategize, although she knew that any strategy they came up with would almost certainly be changed depending on the information they found out, following the leads. It was make-work of sorts but fortunately, before it started to feel like they were wasting too much time, she got the call from the front desk that the victim's wife had arrived and was on her way up.
She allowed Castle to be the first one to greet Mrs. Wardlow when she stepped off the elevator. "Mrs. Wardlow, I'm so sorry for your loss," he began.
Mrs. Wardlow appeared to be calm enough, if tired, but there was evidence of tears around her eyes. She looked faintly surprised, even a little confused, as she blinked at Castle, momentarily distracted. "Oh, it's Rick Castle, isn't it?"
"Yes, I consult with the police on occasion," he confirmed quietly. "Sorry to be seeing you again under these circumstances. This is Detective Kate Beckett," he added, gesturing to Kate, who reached out to shake Mrs. Wardlow's hand, knowing that sometimes the automatic rituals of an introduction helped.
Mrs. Wardlow shook her hand. "Christina Wardlow. Nice to meet you," she said as if by rote.
Christina–so Castle had been wrong about her name, albeit only by one letter. She caught Castle's glance at her and knew somehow that he was thinking the same thing. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wardlow, and thank you for coming in to talk to us."
Mrs. Wardlow sniffed and pulled a tissue out from her handbag to dab at her eyes. "Of course. Can I ask, what happened to my husband? I… when Timothy called, he said it was an accident?"
Oh god, she hadn't realized that Mrs. Wardlow hadn't been told yet that her husband had been murdered, although she supposed it made sense because when the victim had been found, in an apparent overdose, his wife would have been the first one his coworkers chose to contact and they wouldn't have wanted to mention an overdose as the cause.
"Timothy?" Castle questioned, his tone gentle as he guided Mrs. Wardlow into one of the conference rooms. Kate darted a glance at Castle at this since she knew he had to recognize the name Timothy from the list of the board members at Briggs which they had just been looking over. He didn't look at her but she abruptly realized that he was trying to set Mrs. Wardlow at ease, distract her a little, by asking a seemingly irrelevant question.
"Timothy Hodstetter," Mrs. Wardlow clarified. "He works at Briggs with Ben. He was the one who called me this morning. I've been visiting my sister for a few days, helping her with her family, because she sprained her ankle last week."
"I'm afraid that we have reason to think this may not have been an accident after all," Kate told her, keeping her voice as mild as she could. "I'm sorry but we have to ask, can you think of anyone who may have wanted to harm your husband?"
Mrs. Wardlow paled and simply stared, the hand holding her tissue falling as if the muscles in her arm had abruptly stopped working. "What–I don't–what do you mean? You think someone kill–" she broke off mid-word, tears flooding her eyes.
This was the hardest part, what she hated about her job. She opened her mouth but before she could speak, Castle stepped in, his voice quiet, even soothing.
"I understand, it's hard to imagine. I'm sorry, but the police have to be thorough, look into every possibility."
Mrs. Wardlow sniffled and wiped at her eyes and Castle handed her a dry tissue, without saying anything more.
"I'm afraid I didn't know Ben that well," Castle went on after a long minute. Clever of him, to personalize it like that. It would help, she thought. "But you must have known Ben better than anyone. Can you think of anyone he didn't get along with? Anyone he might have argued with?"
The victim's wife lowered the tissue after another sniff. "Ben didn't often talk about his work with me, not in detail. Confidentiality, you know, but I know he was frustrated with Aaron, his deputy."
The victim's deputy, okay, that was a start, someone to look into.
She caught Castle's glance and nodded slightly to allow him to continue. Right now, Castle's knowing the victim and his wife was helping so Kate was happy to fade into the background as it were, no need to make Mrs. Wardlow nervous by reminding her she was talking to a cop.
"Frustrated how?"
"Oh, just work disagreements, you know. Aaron's young, ambitious." She stopped and abruptly rushed on, "Oh but I'm sure it was nothing serious. I can't imagine Aaron or anyone doing anything to harm Ben. It was just… work."
Just work, but of course, people killed for their jobs, for money, all the time.
"Is there anyone else Ben didn't get along with?"
"He was upset with Bryce–Bryce… um… Kenley or something like that–a little while ago, maybe last month, I think. Bryce had made some mistake or something and it lost the company money but I'm sure they talked it out. Bryce and Ben have worked together for years."
Kate sensed rather than saw Castle stiffen a little at this name and tucked it away in her mind to ask him about later.
"Can you think of anyone else?"
Mrs. Wardlow shook her head. "No," she answered slowly. "I don't know; I can't seem to think right now."
Understandable. There was a pause and then Kate asked, gently, "When was the last time you spoke to your husband?"
"Oh, I–two days ago, I think. It was a short phone call. Just checking in. I didn't… I never imagined it would be the last time." Her expression and her voice crumpled again and she choked back a sob as she covered her mouth with a tissue.
Kate's lips tightened as she felt a quick stab of pain. This first conversation with family members was never easy but over the years, she had developed enough of a thick skin not to flinch, not to remember too sharply, but sometimes, something would slip past her guard. It always got to her, when family members lamented not paying greater attention because they hadn't known a particular interaction or conversation would be the last. She knew that regret all too well and not even all these years of doing this work, hearing that sentiment, had inured her to it completely. She tried to push back the memories–and beside her, Castle shifted his weight almost imperceptibly but it was enough to make his arm briefly brush against hers, just a fleeting touch, but it was enough to pull her back to the present, anchor her to the reality of where she was.
"I'm so sorry." He paused and went on. "I can only imagine how difficult this is for you. We don't want to keep you any longer."
She caught his quick glance and a tiny movement of his hand and somehow understood, taking out one of her cards and handing it to him to press into Mrs. Wardlow's hand, which he did, along with a fresh tissue. (When had she and Castle developed this ability to communicate without words like this? She couldn't help but wonder if this connection between them that seemed almost telepathic–as absurd as that might sound–could and would extend into a personal relationship. And what would that be like, she thought, with a little clench in her chest of something like longing.)
"If you can think of any other information, anything at all that you think might be useful, don't hesitate to call Detective Beckett," Castle continued. "And we'll of course let you know if we learn anything more about what happened to Ben."
Mrs. Wardlow nodded shakily and Kate thanked her for speaking with them and they escorted her back to the elevator.
Kate waited until the elevator door had closed behind Mrs. Wardlow before she turned to Castle. "Why did you react the way you did to the mention of Bryce Kenley?"
"Are you sure you're not telepathic?"
She ignored this piece of evasion and only raised her eyebrows at him.
"The name is actually Bryce Kennealy and, well, we're friends."
"You didn't think to mention the fact that you're friends with someone who worked with the victim?"
"First, I didn't know Bryce would end up being involved at all. Second," he made a little grimace, "in all honesty, I'd forgotten that Bryce worked there."
"You forgot where your friend worked?" She was surprised since she knew how retentive Castle's memory tended to be, but she also could feel her lips twitching.
"Yes, yes, even I forget things sometimes. Now, would you rather mock me or go over to Briggs Morris and start looking into the victim?"
She pretended to think about it. "Who says I can't do both? I can multi-task."
He made a face at her and she smirked, nudging him with her elbow. "Well, come on, Castle, we should go talk to the victim's coworkers."
"Why, Detective, I thought you'd never ask."
She didn't respond to this piece of silliness but felt something inside her lighten, like a bubble of cheerfulness. He really did make her work, her life, more fun, even just these fleeting moments of humor that might seem small but meant all the more considering the difficult conversations she had to have with victims' family members.
When they arrived at the offices of Briggs Myers, down by Wall Street as was to be expected, they found the office buzzing like an overturned bee hive, everyone looking busy and rather stressed, but, she couldn't help but note, no real signs of any grief at the loss of a colleague.
The receptionist directed them to the office of the Chairman of the Board, Timothy Hodstetter, who appeared to be the quintessential man in finance, middle-aged with an air of authority, wearing a clearly expensive suit. He greeted them with brisk politeness, directing his secretary to hold his calls until they were done unless it was something urgent before he turned back to them.
"Thank you for talking to us, Mr. Hodstetter. We'll try not to take up too much of your time," she added, for form's sake. She didn't exactly like doing it, playing politics, as it were, but she knew enough to know that doing anything to unnecessarily alienate Wall Street bigwigs would result in a phone call to Captain Montgomery and that was a headache she (and the Captain) could do without.
He grimaced a little. "I understand and to be frank, we rather owe you around here for finding that it was foul play rather than an accidental overdose."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
He waved a hand. "I don't mean to sound callous. Ben and I worked together for more than 20 years so we're friends as well as colleagues but you have to understand, people finding out that our CFO was a closet drug user would hurt the company a lot more than the news that our CFO was murdered."
"I see," she managed, as blandly as she could. She did but she couldn't help but be taken aback, and not in a good way, at the cold pragmatism of it. She supposed it made it easier for her in a sense, rather than dealing with a flood of emotion, but still.
He shook his head a little in the first appearance of something like grief. "It is hard to believe, though. I just can't imagine who would do something like this to Ben."
"That's what we'll try to find out. Mrs. Wardlow mentioned that she thought there were some tensions between Mr. Wardlow and his deputy, Aaron somebody?"
"Aaron Determan. I don't know if I'd say the relationship was tense. They disagreed at times but we all do. But I will say that Determan might be the luckiest son of a bitch I've heard of," he added, not quite as an aside.
Beside her, she felt Castle straighten almost imperceptibly. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, carefully keeping any undue interest out of her voice.
Hodstetter blinked as if he hadn't quite meant to say all that. "Oh, well, it's just, with Ben dying, Aaron will be the new CFO, and he's young for the position. And it's weird the way things happen but about two years ago, the former Deputy CFO passed away and that's how Aaron got his current job. He just has this knack for being in the right position at the right time." He paused and then his eyes widened. "Oh, but I'm sure Aaron couldn't have had anything to do with what happened to Ben. It's a coincidence, that's all."
"Of course," she murmured, entirely insincerely.
"What about Bryce Kennealy?" Castle interjected. "We heard he and Ben argued a little while ago?"
"Oh, that," he scowled a little, his tone hardening. It appeared he wasn't much of a fan of Bryce. "It wasn't an argument so much as Ben getting a little upset with Bryce over Bryce making a stupid mistake. We took a bit of a hit but we were able to come back from it."
"I see. And can you think of anyone else who might have had issues with Mr. Wardlow?" she asked.
"Honestly, I don't… no, wait, there was that one guy who sent Ben an angry email a little while ago."
"What guy? Do you know why he was angry?"
"I can't remember his name off the top of my head. Check with Ben's secretary and she can give you access to his emails. But he was a client of ours and he appeared to have taken something Ben said and taken it as financial advice and he invested a large percentage of his funds into one company but then the company tanked so he lost big and he was understandably upset."
She caught Castle's glance. That sounded promising. Revenge was always a classic motive.
"When did this happen?"
"Maybe a week or so ago? I remember Ben mentioning it to me, just shrugging it off. Sorry I can't tell you anything more specific."
She handed him her card with the usual message to contact her if he thought of anything else and then thanked him for his time.
Once outside Hodsetter's office, she asked his secretary where they could find the victim's office to speak with the victim's own secretary and then blinked as Castle also asked where Bryce Kennealy's office was.
She glanced at him and he had the grace to look a little uncomfortable but met her eyes as he explained, "Ah, I was thinking I might go talk to Bryce myself if you're just going to go through the victim's emails for the guy who threatened him. You don't need me for that."
Well, no, but… "So you're just taking initiative to talk to a person of interest yourself without a cop present?" she asked pointedly since it wasn't exactly protocol.
"It's not like he's really a suspect," he reasoned. "It sounds like the victim had reason to be angry at Bryce, not the other way around. And since he and I are friends, I thought he might be more forthcoming, tell me more of the office gossip, if it seemed unofficial, you know."
He had a point. People did tend to clam up and be more cautious with their words, when cops were around so using the chance of Castle's personal relationship with someone who had direct knowledge about the victim made sense. She just didn't like it. (When had she become so used to having Castle by her side that even the idea of splitting up briefly during a case bothered her? It was ridiculous. She could manage fine on her own.)
"Fine," she agreed. "Meet me at the victim's office then. Try not to do or say anything to mess up the investigation," she added tartly, trying to deflect from her own reluctance.
He gave her an innocent look. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she quipped and he only smirked and walked off with a wave of his hand.
And she made a point of not allowing herself to watch him leave so she absolutely did not sneak a glance at his butt.
As the CFO, the victim had one of the prime corner offices so it wasn't hard to find but when she arrived, she found that his secretary appeared to be nowhere in sight and the victim's office itself was empty.
She hesitated, glancing around, but before she could decide on her next step, she found herself accosted by another employee, a man who gave her an obvious once-over, an appreciative smile spreading over his face as he greeted her.
"Hello. Can I help you?"
She flashed her badge. "Detective Kate Beckett."
His eyes widened a little in surprise and intrigue. "A detective. You must be here looking into what happened to Ben. Terrible tragedy," he added almost by rote. "I'm Mark Vogle."
She shook his offered hand with a small, polite smile. He was really quite remarkably good looking, tall with clean-cut features, dark blond hair and blue eyes. "Nice to meet you," she returned. "I was looking for Mr. Wardlow's secretary. I was told she could give me access to his emails."
His smile dimmed for a moment with her business-like words. "You mean Marissa. She seems to have stepped away from her desk but let me see if I can find her." He flashed his smile again. "Don't go away."
It always tended to surprise her a little when men made their interest in her plain; oh, she knew men found her attractive but in a job where her looks tended to be a hindrance rather than a help, she rarely thought of it.
Vogle walked a few steps down the hall and then she saw him raise his arm in a wave to get someone's attention, this Marissa, she guessed, and then he was back. "She's on her way over now."
"Thank you," she told him briefly. No need to encourage him since she had absolutely no interest in him. Considering his looks, it seemed almost wrong not to be even a little intrigued or attracted to him–and yet, she wasn't. His shoulders were not broad enough, on the lanky side as he was, and his eyes were the wrong shade of blue. (Oh, ridiculous, there was no such thing as right or wrong when it came to the color of someone's eyes. Except, apparently, there was, at least where she was concerned right now. Because she found herself noting his good looks with almost clinical detachment.) Face it, Kate, it's because he's not Castle. (Shut up.)
"Anything else I can help with?" he asked with what was clearly meant to be an engaging smile (and unfortunately for him, left her entirely unmoved).
"Did you know Mr. Wardlow well?"
"Not very well, just from working with him for more than 5 years now. He was a good guy, steady, reliable, you know."
"What about Aaron Determan? I heard he and Mr. Wardlow didn't always get along."
He hesitated, his charming facade slipping for an instant. "They didn't not get along," he hedged. She narrowed her eyes a little. "It's just, well, Aaron's a go-getter, not that bad of a guy but at the same time, he's the type who might walk over his own grandmother to get ahead."
Huh, well, that was a very interesting thing to know about the man who would now get the victim's job. She hid her interest in that description of Determan and only asked, "Can you think of anyone who didn't like Mr. Wardlow or otherwise didn't get along with him?"
He kept his eyes on her and she was careful to keep her own expression just interested enough. (what, she wasn't above trying to use his obvious interest in her as a sort of incentive for him to cooperate, even if she had no interest in him.) "Not really. I mean, we all have little disagreements about work things from time to time. Not long ago, Wardlow and my own supervisor disagreed over which company one of our important clients should invest in for the biggest profit, but that sort of thing happens every day and we all just shrug it off and move on to the next deal, the next client."
That had not been as helpful as she'd hoped and she wasn't sorry for the excuse to turn away from him as a woman came hurrying up.
"Hi. You were looking for me?"
Kate showed her badge and shook the woman's hand. "Hi, Marissa? I'm Detective Kate Beckett. I was told you can give me access to Mr. Wardlow's computer and emails."
"Very nice talking to you, Detective," Vogle inserted.
She spared him a quick glance. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Vogle." She returned her gaze to Marissa who led her into the victim's office and was able to get into the victim's emails. She questioned Marissa about the victim and Marissa, at least, appeared to be genuinely sorry for the man's death, said the usual things about him being a good boss, and then as she was leaving, mentioned that she needed to get back to her desk so she could start clearing it out.
Kate looked up, a little startled. "Why do you need to empty out your desk?" she asked incautiously, mostly out of sheer curiosity. It didn't appear to be related to the case at all; it was just surprising.
"Oh, it's a policy around here that secretaries tend to move with their immediate bosses. It just makes it easier for them because they know their secretaries and their secretaries know their ways, their habits, so it makes transitions easier. I've worked for Mr. Wardlow basically as long as I've worked here."
"And what will you do now?"
Marissa tried but couldn't quite hide her dissatisfaction. "Oh, I'll return to the general secretary pool. It's only the board members that get their own personal secretary."
"I see. Well, good luck with everything." She mentally crossed Marissa off from being a suspect, at least at this point. It appeared Marissa at least had little reason to want the victim dead because his death meant she was essentially being demoted.
She turned to the victim's emails, which proved to be largely unrewarding, until she found the irate email from two weeks ago now, from a Dustin Marconi. She sent a quick text to the boys to ask them to look into and find this Dustin Marconi, giving them the man's email address, and bring him in for questioning.
She had just finished this when Castle walked in, his whole expression alight in a way she recognized, and she straightened up automatically, and had to sternly bite back the urge to smile. He always got so excited when he had a new lead or thought he'd figured something out and it was… cute. She should not be smiling like an idiot in the middle of a murder investigation but she couldn't help but feel a surge of answering excitement because he had to have learned something important to look the way he did. And then a second later, she was sure of it because he went so far as to close the door of the victim's office so they could be assured of privacy.
"I think I know who the killer is," he blurted out immediately.
She blinked at him. "Okay, slow down, just tell me what you found out."
"I talked to Bryce," he hurriedly began, speaking quickly. "I don't think he did it. He admitted to screwing up last month but said Wardlow basically just told him not to do it again, and while he admitted some other people gave him the cold shoulder for a bit, Wardlow wasn't one of them and it's basically over now. But then I asked him about the deputy, Determan, and you know how Hodstetter mentioned that Determan got the deputy job because the last deputy died?"
"Breathe, Castle, no need to pass out just from talking too fast," she interjected rather dryly since he'd blurted the previous sentences out without a pause.
She might as well have not spoken because he only hurried on. "That death sounds fishy to me because, get this, the former deputy died because he had a severe allergic reaction to peanut oil in his dinner one night. Am I crazy or doesn't that sound exactly like how Bobby Mann was killed?"
"It does," she agreed, "but you realize, allergic reactions happen all the time and even if they result in death, that doesn't make all such deaths murder."
Predictably, he ignored her logic. He did get excited about his theories and she might never admit it but she'd grown to like his enthusiasm, the way he just lit up at times like this. "Yeah, but what are the chances that this sort of convenient death happens twice in a row to benefit him? Hodstetter called it luck but what if Determan is making his own luck? I mean, Wardlow's death came damn close to being ruled an accident too, would have been if any other cop except you had been called to it."
She felt her own rush of excitement, partly just because his enthusiasm was contagious and because he had a point. "And I just talked to another of the victim's coworkers who said that Determan is the type who'd walk over his own grandmother to get ahead."
"See! Even a coworker agrees that Determan probably did it!" Castle looked ready to rush out and clap handcuffs on Determan on the spot, no further questions asked.
"I don't think we can do anything about the other death now," she reasoned, "but you're right that we need to talk to this Determan."
"He's got some 'splaining to do," he quipped, pitching his voice in a bad imitation of Ricky Ricardo.
She grinned as she stood up. "Yeah, he does. Just remember, having a motive doesn't necessarily make him guilty."
He held up a hand dramatically. "Just give me this moment to bask in you acknowledging the validity of my theory."
"That's because it doesn't involve aliens or spies," she riposted. "Now, are you done basking?"
He offered a half-bow and an exaggerated sweep of his hand. "After you, Detective."
Oh, he was ridiculous–and adorable. Acting on unthinking impulse, she grasped his outstretched hand, tugging him with her, feeling the immediate, undeniable flare of heat that seemed to streak up her entire arm from just the one touch. She felt color flooding her cheeks and she had to forcibly remind herself to release his hand before she hurried to move ahead of him to leave the victim's office. No more, she absolutely could not touch Castle again, for anything. Ever. (And why, oh why, was this insane physical reaction to him not getting any weaker even after three times? If anything, it seemed as if the three times had only made her want him more, now that she knew just how very good they were together. Never mind, she wasn't going to think about it, she cut off the thought sharply.)
And they had a case to focus on, anyway.
~To be continued…~
A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers.
