Papa Jack Chapter 100
"When will the paperwork go through for you to drag Kyle back to the Big Apple?" Richard asks Kate as Drummond is loaded into a Virginia State Police vehicle.
"Probably not until late tomorrow," Kate speculates. "It might even take a day beyond that."
"Which means it would make the most sense to stay down here until the I's are dotted and the T's crossed," Richard assumes.
"Uh-huh," Kate agrees, "except that you got us on a plane so fast we didn't bring go bags. I don't even have a toothbrush."
"We passed a mall not too far back on our way to this outpost of empty calories," Richard recalls. "We shouldn't have any problem picking up the basics. And I'm sure there's some lovely inn that would be happy to put us up for a night or two. By that time, the lab should have finished analyzing what the search team turned up in Connor Davis' apartment. You can return in cop glory to another triumph. Montgomery can't object to that."
"He won't like the department picking up the tab for a hotel or plane fare back," Kate notes.
"Which it won't be if you bunk with me. I booked our charter on the basis of a round trip so that won't cost anything extra either."
"Castle, bunking with you won't look good in my report. If you were another cop, maybe. But you're not. If our arrangements reach 1PP, they could raise an eyebrow or two."
"Beckett, I thought 1PP was more concerned with budgets than bedrooms. But if you're worried about some Priscilla Goodbody having the vapors over our personal business, we can have separate rooms, hopefully with a connecting door."
"Castle, I don't know."
"What do you want to do, fly back to New York and then have to come back down to Virginia to transport Drummond back up the coast? Think of all the wasted fuel. It would be an environmental nightmare."
Kate can't help giggling. "All right, Castle. You've made your point. Let's hit the mall and hunt up some rooms for the night. But nothing with leopard fur."
Richard grins. "Agreed."
Kate gazes around her functionally furnished motel room. Richard had offered to spring for something better, but that would have required giving the captain an explanation she wasn't prepared to offer – not just yet. The Super Seven Inn has what she needs, especially the coffee pot and two pouches of coffee. She doubts that the foil containers hold a blend as rich as what Castle brews at his loft – or provides to the 12th's breakroom – but they have caffeine. That's enough.
Fortunately, a large drugstore anchored the mall, and she was able to get not only a toothbrush but her favorite brand of toothpaste. The department store at the other end of the airy shoppers' walk had the clothes she needed. Again, Castle offered to pick up the tab, but she figured that if he was going to buy lingerie for her, it wouldn't be in a sensible cotton three-pack. For a moment, a vision of climbing out of a warm, cherry-scented bubble bath to slip into the silkiest of negligees swims before her eyes. She blinks the images away. This trip is strictly police business. But when they get back to New York…."
A rap on the adjoining door jars Kate back to the present. "Come in!"
Richard sticks his head into Kate's room. "Ready to go find some dinner? I counted five different kinds of fast food across the road, but the desk clerk told me there's a nice restaurant called The Three Coins about two miles east of here. According to Benji, it has servers and menus and everything. He said he took his mother there on her birthday, and she liked it."
Kate nods. "Sounds like a pretty good recommendation. Sure. Why not?"
The almost full parking lot of the Three Coins speaks to its popularity with local residents. A hostess greets Kate and Richard warmly and shows them to a table topped by a checkered cloth. The hostess hands them menus in leather jackets and assures them that the minestrone soup is both freshly made and delicious. A server in a checkered apron puts a basket of warm rolls on the table and inquires about their order.
As Kate studies the offerings, tantalizing aromas drift from surrounding tables. She realizes she's starved. "Um, the minestrone soup sounds great, and I'd like the Brunswick stew and a side salad with the house dressing."
The server turns to a grinning Richard. "And you, Sir?'
"I'll also go for the soup, but I want the country ham and apple-baked yams."
"Sweet tea?" the server inquires.
Richard looks questioningly at Kate, who nods. "Sweet tea all around. You've built up quite an appetite, Beckett," he observes as the server leaves to put in their order. "Does catching the bad guys always make you hungry, or is it just the ones you collar in a Bongo Burgers parking lot?"
Kate shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe it's that this place is so, um, normal. I mean, the dining room is full of people enjoying their food and having a good time. They're not worried about filling out reports or justifying their expenses. They're just having dinner."
"Beckett, Kate, for tonight, you don't have to worry about filling out reports or justifying your expenses either," Richard reminds her.
"But the minute I get custody of Drummond, I'll have to. And when I get back to New York, I'll have to worry about it even more."
"And you don't like that?"
"I'd like it better if I could spend less time on paperwork and more getting the bad guys off the street. Castle, you saw how big the stack of cold cases is. I took two I thought I could solve."
"And you solved them," Richard notes.
"With your help. But that still leaves a lot of victims who never got justice and possibly never will. It also leaves the wrongly charged stuck in Rikers for a year before they can even dream of being cleared. For all of them, the system just isn't working."
Chin in his palm, Richard leans across the table. "So, what do you want to do to change it?"
Kate shakes her head. "I haven't got a clue."
"Well, perhaps something will come to you. In the meantime, it looks like we're about to get our soup. It smells amazing."
"Yeah," Kate agrees, "it does."
Jack opens the passenger-side door of his car and extends his hand to help Martha seat herself inside. Martha offers an approving smile. "I remember on, um, that night, you had excellent manners too. It was one of the things that got my attention. I mean, people in the theater always opened doors for divas but not for struggling actors trying to live on stale peanuts. You treated me as if I was Broadway's brightest light."
"I treated you as the beautiful and talented woman you are," Jack replies, fitting his large frame behind the steering wheel. "If things had been different – well, there's no changing that now."
"Jack, why did you disappear? Why were you gone all the time I was pregnant with Richard? We've talked about him a lot, but you never explained why you had to leave. For God's sake, what would make a man who translates books for a living suddenly take off like that?"
"Martha, there's a lot I can't tell you, a lot I may never be able to tell you. Still, I can admit that at the time, I was not working as a translator, although my language skills were crucial to my job. And I can tell you that my life depended on getting out of the city and the country. Otherwise, I couldn't have left you, not after that night. Then, when I found out that you were about to deliver our child and that you were giving him up, I did everything I could to stay with him, even if I couldn't stay with you. That's as much of the truth as I can tell you, Martha. I can only hope that it's enough."
Martha reaches for Jack's hand. "I'll make it enough. So, now that you're here and I'm here, where are you taking me to dinner?"