Just a couple notes:
1. There is some talk of a murder case in this story, but it will be a very insignificant portion of the story. I hate writing them (and reading them) and in this situation, have only done so to further along a plot point (which you'll see).
2. I had hoped to have this story completed by Christmas, but it doesn't look like that is happening. Ha! Hopefully you're okay with that. What even is time in 2020, anyway?
Despite the blustery morning, Beckett's relieved when Monday rolls around, has been practically crawling out of her skin since her disastrous brunch with Castle.
She's not an idiot, she knows in all likelihood that Castle didn't really need help with Nikki, that he just wanted an excuse to see her. She'd decided to give in to a moment of weakness because...well, despite everything, she's missed him like hell since he'd been gone.
As she slips into a turtleneck and a pair of jeans, her mind replays their last conversation for the umpteenth time since Saturday — the despair in his voice when he asked her if she was punishing him, the way he'd pushed her to tell him what she meant about this summer, his implication that the two of them could be something more if she'd just let there be.
Beckett hadn't meant for it all to spill out like that between them, and she's grateful to at least have had the foresight to stop before she confessed something she'd regret telling him — like the fact that she broke up with her boyfriend for him and then he disappeared for half a year.
She pulls out a travel mug from her cabinet, reaching for her coffee pot before she realizes she forgot to set the timer. Groaning at her lack of foresight, she sets her mug back on the counter. Kate really doesn't want to stop at a coffee shop in this weather, so she'll just have to make do with the machine at the precinct that she somehow still struggles with.
"What do we got, Espo?" Kate asks, pocketing her gloves on a shiver as she stops in front of the murder board where the other detective stands in thought.
"27-year-old Melissa Montgomery. Found dead inside her apartment on 27th and Lex late last night by her boyfriend, Jimmy Carson."
"Any witnesses?" Beckett asks, leaning against her desk.
"Nada. Uniforms did a canvass early this morning but neighbors don't remember hearing anything or seeing anyone unusual at that hour."
"Last known whereabouts?"
"Boyfriend said Melissa had a late rehearsal for a show that's opening in the spring. I called the theater. They said the only people at last night's rehearsal were the director, Melissa, and her scene partner."
"How late did rehearsal go?"
"About 10:30. Street cam footage puts Melissa near her apartment 20 minutes later."
Beckett nods. "Okay, sounds like she went straight home, which means that the last two people to see her alive before her killer were the director and Melissa's scene partner. Did you get their names?"
Esposito nods, hesitating. "The director is 60-year-old Martin Russell, lives uptown on the West side. And Melissa's scene partner is, uh, Martha Rodgers."
"I'm sorry. What?" Kate says, disbelieving. "Castle's mother? That Martha Rodgers?"
Esposito cocks his head. "Beckett, how many stage actresses named Martha Rodgers do you think there are in this city?"
"I don't know," she says defensively, making a face. "It's a... common name."
"We gonna go interview them or you wanna stay here and pout some more?" he asks.
She narrows her eyes. Fuck. She does not want to deal with Castle this morning, especially before she's had her coffee.
"Guess there's no point in taking my coat off," she grumbles. "Let's go. We're stopping for coffee on the way."
They question Martin Russell first, but he doesn't give them much — other than the fact that Melissa had been having a hard time focusing during the rehearsal. She'd gotten into a fight with her boyfriend earlier that day about all the time she was spending on the play.
Something Jimmy neglected to mention, so they'd definitely be bringing him in for questioning later.
Martin had gone out with a couple of his buddies after the rehearsal and paid the tab with cash he'd gotten from an ATM withdrawal during the time of death window that Lanie had given them, so his alibi is pretty much rock solid once they verify his story with the footage from the ATM camera.
It's nearing 11 a.m. when Beckett and Espo buzz Castle's door and she prays that he's out for lunch or a Black Pawn meeting or any other godforsaken appointment that will make it possible for her to avoid him.
But, as the universe would have it, Castle is the one who answers the door...with a strand of tinsel garland wrapped around his neck and giant ball of lights in his hand that he's going to have a hell of a time unraveling, Beckett thinks.
"Beckett?" His face flickers in surprise. "Esposito?"
"Are we interrupting something, bro?" Esposito smirks in amusement, his gaze trailing dipping down to Castle's makeshift scarf.
Castle ignores the smirk. "Just trying to get all the Christmas stuff out before Alexis comes home from school so we can spend the night decorating the place."
Oh. That's really sweet.
Castle scratches his head. "Uh, what are you guys doing here?"
"Castle, is Martha home?" Beckett asks, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.
His forehead wrinkles in confusion. "Yeah, she's upstairs." He hesitates. "Why don't you come in?"
"One of the actors working on the same play as your mother was killed late last night," Beckett explains, following Castle and Esposito through the doorway. She closes it behind her. "It looks like Martha and her director were the last two people to see this woman alive before she was killed."
Castle blanches. "You don't think that she - "
"No," she shakes her head. "But you know we still need to ask. What time did Martha come home last night?"
He rubs the back of his neck in thought. "I was up late writing but I went to bed shortly after she got home, so it must've been between 10:45 and quarter after 11?"
Beckett's shoulders drop in relief. Lanie placed time of death between 11 and 11:45 — when she was found by her boyfriend — and based on the distance between Castle's place and Melissa's, it was certainly not enough time for Martha to follow Melissa to her apartment, commit murder, and come home.
She doesn't think Martha is capable of murder, not even close, but she's grateful she can pretty much rule her out.
"Mother!" Castle yells up the staircase. "Can you come down here please?"
While they wait, Beckett notices for the first time the sheer number of boxes of decorations Castle has in view. He did go all-out at his Christmas party last year — the place was fully decked in lights, garland, and every ornament and tchotchke imaginable. She thought maybe it'd been a one-off, just a special occasion, but she sees now that it truly is how into the holiday he gets.
Pure Castle.
Kate is a little envious, to be honest. She loved Christmas growing up and now she's lucky if she puts up even a tree or a strand of lights.
It just...hasn't been the same since her mother died.
The sound of Esposito hooting breaks her out of her reverie, but she finds Castle's curious gaze on her — as if he can tell exactly what she'd been thinking. His blue eyes are soft on hers, too soft, and it makes her heart clench in her chest.
Beckett clears her throat. "Esposito, what the hell is with you?"
Esposito's grin slowly drops from his face. "Just you know, Knicks tickets." He flashes an envelope he definitely didn't have a minute ago.
Beckett lifts an eyebrow. "For what?"
Esposito flicks his thumb against the envelope, nods toward Castle. "Apology for not calling us."
"Seriously?"
"What? He asked how he could make it up to me!"
Her gaze flicks to Castle's face, but he stays silent, looking a little uncomfortable, actually, by the entire exchange.
So probably not his idea, then. And maybe a little hurt by Esposito's request, she thinks. Yeah, she doesn't blame him.
Oh, Castle.
"You're shameless," she hisses at the Hispanic detective.
Esposito opens his mouth to reply, but then -
"Darling, I was just settling down for a nap, what - oh." Martha Rodgers, graceful in a loud printed silk robe, finds them at the bottom of the stairwell. A bright smile stretches across her pink-lipsticked mouth.
"Detectives Beckett and Esposito, how lovely to see you," she greets, stepping down into the foyer. "It's been far too long."
Beckett smiles. "It's good to see you, Martha."
"Ah, but not a social call, I take it?" Martha gathers, but her smile doesn't dim.
"Unfortunately not," Beckett says grimly.
"Martha, you're familiar with Melissa Montgomery?" Esposito asks.
"Of course," Martha says, clapping her hands together. "Such a delightful young woman, and a lovely scene partner. I tell you, it's very hard to come by talented young actors these days, and…" The light in her eyes dims as the reason for their visit dawns on her.
"Oh no, don't tell me," she says, dismayed.
"She was killed late last night," Esposito confirms. "Her boyfriend found her in her apartment."
"Oh my." Martha presses a hand against her chest. "That's awful." Castle sighs, rubbing his mother's back in comfort.
"Why don't we have a seat?" Kate suggests gently, nodding toward the couch. The detectives settle down into armchairs while Castle and his mother take the couch.
"What can you tell us about Melissa?"
Martha sighs. "I can't say that I knew her terribly well, but she was a very sweet girl. Always on time, always got along well with everyone."
"Did she have any enemies or rivalries that you know of?" Esposito asks.
"No, nothing." Martha looks at a loss. "The only time I think I've ever seen her upset was...well, last night, actually."
"She was upset last night?" Beckett coaxes.
Martha nods. "When she came into the theater, her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying. I asked her if she was all right, you know. All she said was that she'd gotten into a fight with her boyfriend but that she didn't want to talk about it."
"That corroborates what Martin Russell said," Beckett confirms.
"Did you question the boyfriend?" Castle asks.
"Briefly, but we're bringing him back in later today for more questioning."
"And we haven't verified his alibi yet," Esposito adds.
"Martha, is there anything else you can tell us about their relationship? How long they were together, what their relationship was like? Anything like that?" Beckett prods.
"Oh, I don't know," Martha sighs. "I think Melissa said they'd been together a little over a year? They met at her last job. She was a barista at a little coffee shop near her place."
Beckett nods, taking notes.
"There's one other thing," Martha says slowly. "I wear a piece of costume jewelry on my ring finger a lot," Martha gestures to her hand, "I had gotten it at a flea market years ago. Of course anyone who knows anything about jewelry could tell you it was fake, but I caught Melissa staring at it a few weeks ago."
Beckett frowns. "And that was unusual?"
"Oh, no, not that, dear. But then she made some offhanded remark about how the design resembled some ring her boyfriend proposed to her with."
"Proposed? He didn't say anything about them being engaged," Esposito says.
"Yes, well…" Martha trails off. "I believe she turned the poor fellow down. Said she wasn't ready, had too much life to live."
Hmmm.
Beckett smiles, getting to her feet. "Thanks for your help, Martha. If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to call us."
Castle's mother nods, but looks pretty out of it. A little stunned by the news, Beckett thinks.
Esposito's phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket, checking the caller ID. "It's Montgomery," he says. He nods to the kitchen, "I'm gonna take this."
Leaving her alone with Castle and his mother? Great.
"Beckett, can I…?" Castle trails off, gesturing to the foyer.
She swallows. "Uh, sure."
Castle glances at his mother in worry, seems almost torn about leaving her alone for a minute. But Martha, of course, doesn't miss a thing.
"Oh, Richard. Don't look at me like that. I'm fine," she waves him off. "I could use a moment alone, anyway."
"Okay." He settles a hand on her shoulder, squeezes it briefly before Kate follows him into the foyer, out of earshot.
"What is it?" she asks.
Castle glances over at Esposito, making sure the detective is still busy on the phone. "Look, you made yourself clear on Saturday, okay? I heard what you said." He hesitates.
Uh-huh. She feels more coming on here. "But?"
"Can I just help you close this one? For my mother?"
She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Please, Kate?" Oh, first-naming her. Playing dirty.
Beckett knows there's a good chance he'll try to use this as a gateway to weasel his way back, but she can also tell when he's being sincere.
And right now, all he seems to want to do is provide his Mother some comfort in whatever way he can and make himself useful.
Ugh, this is a terrible idea.
"All right, Castle," she agrees softly. "But just this one. That's it."
He smiles. "Thank you. You won't regret it."
Oh, but she has a very good feeling that she will.