He is out of options. Or rather out of ideas about what to do. How to protect her with absolutely no idea what's going on here. Her briefing was missing the most vital information – what did they find? Why is she here? What is she looking for? It had to do something with that shipment, that was an important piece of information she needed. But what else? What does he know?
His fingers are drumming on the table, he's watching the act before Kate but is not really paying attention. He's too caught up in his thoughts.
What information has he?
A body that might've been murdered and is somehow connected to this club. A father and son awaiting a shipment tomorrow at 11 PM. A detective undercover as a burlesque artist.
He sighs in frustration. This could be about anything. Smuggling, trafficking, prostitution, drugs – the list is endless and he hasn't even started with all his crazy ideas. He wishes he could ask one of his contacts if they know that something shady is happening in this club or if they can keep an eye out, but he can't just send them a message and get everything he needs. That's not how this works. Depending on who he wants to talk to the options to contact them differ but one thing remains the same: He has to meet them in person in a place and on a date they set. This could be in ten minutes after he made contact or tomorrow evening. He'll certainly do this, but it doesn't help him right now.
He lets his eyes wander again, probably for the hundredth time, thinks about all the possible 'accidents' Kate could have on stage, but even this list is way too long, the options endless to do anything about it to prevent it. And those are just on stage – there are hundreds of off-stage options as well.
Hm. No, he'll never manage to do something this way. There needs to be another approach. His gaze falls on his laptop. Of course! He was too caught up in his worry – and surprise – over Beckett, that he wasn't thinking clearly. His best-paid strength is to think like the bad guys, so what would the bad guys do?
Lay low. They would lay low! They definitely wouldn't cause an accident on stage with all the guests watching, maybe there'd be an investigation or at least an article about the accident – especially if it were deadly. This is something they'd never risk, particularly when they are expecting an important, still mysterious shipment tomorrow. That also means that they wouldn't risk any accidents or suspicious behavior here in the club. They were putting in a lot of effort to hide all of their traces, to make this murder look like an accident – however connected it might be to the case. Ugh, he definitely needs to get a proper briefing from Beckett.
But this means that she's safe as long as the show goes and in the club, too. Whatever accident they are planning, it has to be after the show, something that doesn't involve an investigation … so maybe a push down the stairs with witnesses, enough to confirm the accident but too little that somebody might notice something shady going on. Hm. Or maybe so many witnesses that nobody really saw anything? But she'd have to take stairs with a lot of people on them anytime tomorrow, tonight would be hard to find. He has no idea how her schedule looks undercover if she's living at her apartment. It's not as if he knew her schedule before, especially now, almost 2 years later.
He's running his fingers through his hair, feeling helpless. He'll just go home with her. It's just logical that he'd spend the evening here and wait for her after the show if they are lovers. Maybe he could even assemble some press to take a picture of them, so it would be too suspicious if she wound up dead only a day later. Yeah, that would be a good idea. She'll probably kill him for it, but at least she'll live and they can solve this case.
Argh, damn, he has to give Mandy a heads-up about the pictures. He likes her, he doesn't want to hurt her with something that's just a ruse to get Beckett home safely. He fishes for his phone to get the press and explain everything to Mandy. This has to work.
But the case and the little information he has is giving him a hard time. Everything is possible. If he just knew what the shipment was, maybe it'll make more sense then. He'll definitely contact one of his guys later on the way home. But if he wrote the story, it would be something that doesn't draw any attention, something that just makes sense and is not hard to hide. So no prostitution or human trafficking, at least there's that. With all the glitter, fake diamonds, and diamanté on their flimsy dresses, it wouldn't be suspicious to receive jewelry, maybe from a heist? But no, it doesn't feel right. He'd go for drugs or smuggled liquor. Drugs could also be a side business in the club and the liquor would dampen the cost and maximize the profit. Yeah, he'd go for one of those. Liquor probably. But it still doesn't make sense why they are so extremely cautious about it and want to kill everybody who might have even looked at them the wrong way.
"Mr. Castle, if I'm not mistaken," a booming, yet somehow velvet voice startles him and he turns to look at the person responsible. A tall, broad man in his forties stands before him, narrow eyes, hooked nose, black hair, and sparse beard – the father. Damn. Castle gets to his feet as the gentleman he his and extends his hand, faking a booming smile.
"Yeah. A fan? Who do I have the pleasure with?" The other man chuckles mirthlessly, sizes him up but doesn't take his outreached hand. Then he just sits down at Castle's table, playing with an empty glass, leaving Castle standing like a fool. Well, this is going to be interesting.
"I see you have quite the reputation, Mr. Castle. Just three days ago, you've been here with a beautiful blonde. I'm happy that you liked the show so much that you'd return so quickly. Where is she tonight?" The way he's not meeting his eyes makes him shudder. He doesn't like this guy or the vibe he's giving off, it looks dangerous, almost maniac. Did he see him and Kate before? Probably, otherwise, he wouldn't be here, trying to intimidate him with only his presence.
"She was busy tonight, she's building her own model agency right now. Tonight, she's organizing a meeting with all the girls she already signed to make sure that they feel welcomed and taken care of. She wants to know what's important to them, hear their stories."
"Ah, what a pity." Castle laughs.
"Yeah, it really is. We had a lot of fun the last time."
"Is that why you left early the last time?" Uh, has he been watching him then already? Why would he do that? He watches the stage as Kate and other girls start the main act, pretending he didn't hear him in the sudden change of performance. If he recognized him, did he recognize Kate as well? Back then, she was in the Newspaper sometimes as his muse. Especially at the book party. But not since then and she looks completely different with the short, blond hair.
"Mr Castle?" The booming voice crosses his thoughts.
"Huh?" He looks at him puzzled, feigning confusion, then laughs loudly, shakes his head. "Sorry, I was too caught up in the act. These ladies are fantastic. I've been in many clubs, watched many shows, but I've never seen something quite like that. And the way they sing! Spectacular."
"So, why did you leave early last time?" The man finally looks at him with piercing, watery blue eyes. Castle pretends to be oblivious to the obvious tension, leans over to him, and grins widely.
"See, I'm a writer. A pretty successful one, too. Even if you don't like my books, you've probably heard of me …"
"Yeah, you wrote the two Nikki Heat books." The man's words are calculated, he's studying every stir of emotion in his face, so Castle laughs again, making it sound a bit embarrassed. His mother and twenty years of being in the public eye taught him well how to hide his real emotions.
"Ah, yeah, well. Not sure why I've written that. I had a crush on that detective, but it ended badly between us. I can't even look at the books now, it reads like the sappy confession of a lovesick teenager. Probably the reason why my publisher didn't want to continue the series." The man gifts him a wolfish grin.
"Ah, I wouldn't say that. It was more like the erotic dreams of a hormonal teenager." Castle laughs loudly at that, slaps the man's back, more than happy to have him sidetracked from his original conversation, but it'll probably only be a matter of time. His eyes are still too cold, too calculating to be distracted for long, it feels more like a cat-and-mouse game.
"Yeah, you're totally right! So you are a fan?" He grins wide, feigns smugness.
"No, I wouldn't say that. I've read a couple of your books in my free time here at the club, but I liked Derrick Storm and Clara Striker more."
"Oh, yeah, they were classical." Already braving him for the next question.
"Why did you kill him?" There it is, as always. Castle shrugs, leans back in his chair again, slowly letting his gaze wander over the stage, finding Kate's eyes already on him. She's worried, he can see it, his heart doing somersaults in his chest at the intensity of her gaze.
"Did you think that there were any surprises left?" He averts his eyes again, to meet the piercing gaze of the man next to him.
"Surprises?" That snaps the man out of his mission, as he leans forward, real interest etched in the lines on his forehead. Castle lifts one shoulder as if he'd ponder his next words.
"Yeah. Surprises are existential for a good mystery thriller, you know? But with Storm, everything became predictable but his death."
"So his death was the last surprise", the man says and Castle doesn't like the predatory smile on his lips. Damn, that wasn't what he intended. Did he just give that maniac a new idea?
"Yeah, that's a nice way to put it. I wanted something new, something that sparked my imagination. And that's why we had to leave early the last time."
"You got a new idea? Here?" Castle grins, to not give the man the idea that he might know something about his scheming.
"Yeah. I can't go into details yet, but the original vibe here, the high quality of the staff and the artists, all the thought of details put in here, really sparked my imagination. That's why I'm back here. I wanted to get the details right – and finally see the end of the show."
"That's why you were typing on your laptop the whole evening." The man says, leaning forward, the grin on his face sending icy shivers down Castle's spine. "So, tell me. Will it be a gruesome murder? Will one of the girls die?" Castle chuckles, sending the man a playfully exasperated look.
"I'm sworn to secrecy. But I promise you, it will be good."
"That I have no doubt. Just tell me, please. Will someone kill the blonde girl?" Castle's eyes fly to the stage, looking for Kate, still dancing beautifully and unharmed.
"Which one? There are like four blondes", he jokes.
"Ah, you know which one. The one you're looking at right now. The one you were screwing in the storage rooms." Time stands still, everything is frozen. Finally, the man comes clean, but the whole conversation leaves Castle breathless, his heart trying to escape through his throat.
"It's not like that. Yeah, well, it is. But Kitten and I have a history. She's not that type of girl. But I am really sorry about that." Castle somehow feels called to defend Kate's honor, especially since nothing happened and she just did it to save his life, which still hurts and feels good at the same time.
"You see, we don't like it when guests hook up with our artists. Not even celebrities. Normally, this would be the end for your girl." The message is clear, his maniacal smile only emphasizing it. Is he really threatening to kill her or does he just want to see how much Castle knows, if he's coming forward to sweeten the deal with his own knowledge?
"I'm really sorry about that and I promise you, that this will never happen again. We were just railroaded by the intense feelings we still have for each other. But it does not apologize for what we did. What can I do to make up for it? I could invest in the club? Just don't throw her out, she loves and needs this job to pay her bills." The maniac observes him closely, his eyes piercing through his own to search for anything that will reveal what he truly knows, then he huffs a laugh.
"Don't worry. I just wanted to make myself and the rules pretty clear here. For now, this conversation is enough. Just keep your hands off the girls and stay where guests are supposed to stay." With that, he rises, but beckons Rick to stay seated. "I'm really curious how this new book of yours turns out and who will die."
"I'll send you an autographed copy", Rick laughs with a smug grin, trying to disguise the rapid beating of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears, the looming threat pressing his cold fingers around his neck. The man just shows his predatory grin again and leaves without any further words.
It takes all the strength Rick can muster to not give himself away by crumbling right on the spot, no matter how hard his nervous system is craving to roll up into a ball and scream.
This is so not good.