Papa Jack Chapter 88

"Well, Richard says as Kate's shift is ending, "you have two cases, even if they are cold, and you're ready to go full bore if there's a new one. I'd say that's cause for celebration."

Kate looks up, a coy twinkle in her eye. "We already had Chinese food with Lanie. What other celebration did you have in mind?"

Richard swallows. "Beckett, Kate, before Cedric Marks did the unforgivable, you and I had… you know. And I never felt – not like that. And I thought that you…."

"I did, Castle. I do."

"Oh, good! OK, so, I thought we could go to my loft or your place if you want. Wherever you're most, um, comfortable."

"Castle, what we're talking about is anything but comfortable. But the walls of my apartment are a little thin, and I'm tired of having to hold back – about anything. Let's go to your loft."

"You want to pick up some burgers at Remy's on the way?"

"We can worry about food later."

"Yes," Richard agrees. "Yes, we can."

Unwilling to wait for the elevator, Richard and Kate rush hand-in-hand up the stairs. With fumbling fingers, Richard unlocks the door of his loft. Tugging at their clothes, the couple charges inside. The lock clicks as Richard kicks the door closed behind them. With Kate scooped into his arms and tearing open his shirt, Richard's long strides cover the distance between the door and his bedroom.

Unwilling to loose their hold on each other, the pair falls together on the bed, their lips meeting in a desperate collision. Tossed aloft by the passionate storm, garments fly in every direction. Heated skin glistening, Kate straddles Richard's hips. As his hands rise to cup her breasts, he hesitates. Husky words grate from his throat. "I don't want to hurt you."

Kate's mouth dives toward his. "It will only hurt if we stop." Tongues thrust and parry in an ancient ballet as Richard flips Kate beneath him. She can feel herself opening, her emptiness frantic to be filled. Her fingers dig into his buttocks, pulling him to her. He thrusts, her cries urging him deeper and deeper. Kate can feel the pressure building within her as sweet torment spreads outward from her most intimate depths. Her breathing quickens, syncing with the rhythms of her lover. With almost no warning, a stunning explosion tops their summit, and they sink to earth in an entangled embrace.

From somewhere in the gradually lightening room, an insistent chime rouses Kate from her dreamy slumber. Richard moans a protest as she untangles her limbs from his and leaves the warmth of his body to search out the alarm. She finds her cell phone, still in the pocket of her pants, about six feet from the bed, and, with a sigh, turns it off. She picks up her blouse, now missing half of its buttons. "Castle, I need to go back to my apartment. My shift starts in an hour, and," she holds up her top, "I can't wear this to the precinct."

Richard props himself up on his elbow. "Oh, I don't know. I hear that Esposito likes strippers. He'd probably enjoy the thrill."

Kate picks up Richard's pants and throws them at him. "Montgomery wouldn't. I really need to go."

"All right, hang on just a minute, and I'll take you. You don't want to hail a cab wearing that – although…."

"Castle!"

"Right." Richard sniffs the air. "At least the timer on the coffee pot activated. We can caffeinate on our way out."

Kate is hanging her blazer over the back of her desk chair when her landline rings. Reaching for a pen and her sticky notes, she picks up the receiver. "Detective Beckett. Where? Got it."

"Murder?" Richard inquires.

Kate shrugs. "Maybe. It's a body. When the owner of The Victorious Va-J-J opened up this morning, she found her clerk dead on the floor."

"The Victorious V-J-J," Richard repeats. "That's only three blocks from my loft. I remember when it opened. There was a piece in The Ledger about women finally being able to unabashedly shop for products tailored exclusively to their needs. I peeked in the window once. I didn't understand most of what I saw except for the prices. I don't know what an emotional detox bath soak is, but the store was charging $40 for it."

"I wouldn't know either," Kate says. "I prefer my baths with cherry-scented bubbles, a vanilla candle, and a glass of red wine."

A corner of Richard's mouth quirks upward. "I'll have to remember that. So, will you have your old unit back?'

"No, they assigned me a new one. Support Services said it's a blue Chevy Impala. It's supposed to be out in the restricted lot. They gave me the plate number and the combination of the lockbox with the keys.

"An Impala," Richard considers. "Not exactly invisible in traffic, but it will have plenty of legroom."

"Let's go find out."

Soho is alive with activity, and Kate has to circle the block to find a parking spot to accommodate her unit. Officer Trudy Lopwith has already secured the possible crime scene. She recognizes Kate and Castle and waves them inside. "No obvious wounds on the body. The dead woman still has her jewelry, and the owner doesn't think anything is missing, so it doesn't look like a robbery."

Kate studies the body. "If she were older, I'd think that she might have had a heart attack or something. But she doesn't look over 25."

"Actually, Connie was thirty-five, a walking example of the youthenizing effects of self-care," a flawlessly dressed woman asserts.

"This is Ms. Bassey. She owns the store," Trudy explains.

"She," Kate nods toward the body, "was your clerk, Ms. Bassey?"

"She was," Bassey confirms. "Her name is – was – Connie Bellweather. She worked with me in online sales before I opened the store. I gave her a discount on our products, and she used them religiously. You can see how well-hydrated her skin is. Water is the secret to true well-being."

"You say she was well. Then, she didn't have any illnesses that might have caused her death?" Kate questions.

Bassey shakes her head. "She never said a word about being sick, and I'm sure she would have told me if she had any medical problems. I have excellent health consultants that help to design and formulate my products."

Kate's attention shifts to the door as Sidney Perlmutter authoritatively enters the shop. "Dr. Perlmutter is a medical examiner," she explains to Bassey. "It's his job to figure out how Connie died."

Grunting, the balding ME crouches near Connie's body. "From the lividity, she hasn't been moved." He sticks a probe into Connie's upper abdomen. "By her liver temperature, I'd put the time of death between ten and midnight last night."

"How about the cause of death?" Kate questions.

"No immediately obvious stab or gunshot wounds. No signs of blunt force trauma and no defensive wounds," Perlmutter observes. "So, unless you've got a Ouija board, Detective, I'll need to get her back to the lab to determine that."

Kate sighs. "Of course." She turns to Lopwith. "Set up a canvass in the area. See if anyone saw or heard anything from ten to twelve last night."

"Some of the quirkier residents of the neighborhood hold nighttime salons on esoteric topics," Richard says. "I know there was one on theories of dark matter not too long ago. A couple of Black Pawn's sci-fi authors attended. There's a private email list that goes out announcing upcoming events. I'm on it. We can check to see if a group was meeting last night. A store like this would attract the attention of the curious. Someone might have seen something."

"It's worth checking out," Kate acknowledges. "Are the emails on your computer?"

"They are," Castle says. "It won't take long to give them a look."