T I T L E           TASTE OF DEATH F A N D O M           Castle P A I R I N G           None R A T I NG           PG-13 W O R D   C O U N T           27,684 words S U M M A R Y When the owner of an up-and-coming catering company is found dead at one of his parties, it is up to Beckett, Castle, Esposito, and Ryan to untwist the tangled threads to find his murderer. N O T E S Thanks to Elenna and Theresa for betaing, and to my writing filter for the cheerleading.

~*~

Saundra readjusted her grip on the slipping trash bag as she shoved the kitchen's back door open and stepped into the hallway. All that was left was taking the garbage out, and then she and the others on her shift could call it a night and go home. She didn't envy the later shift, even if they got paid better for having to stay up all night dealing with drunk people - she had to be at her other job at 7:00 AM, and with the hour it took to get home on the bus, it would be a stretch to get enough sleep tonight as it was. Having to stay until the last guest left, waiting until after closing down to finish cleaning up, that would mean leaving here far later than she'd like. They didn't get paid that much more.

She automatically reached out for the light switch at the end of the hallway, swearing softly when she remembered that the bulb had burnt out on the back light. No one had had the chance to replace it tonight, they'd all been so busy with the party. But Marty knew, so it'd be fixed by the event on Thursday. She just had to toss the trash in the dark. She bypassed the switch, grabbing the doorknob instead.

Biting her lip, she pushed the door open, shuddering slightly at the creaking noise it made as she stood in the doorway. Marty teased her for being so spooked by the building, but she couldn't help it. It was old and made creepy noises, stuff moved around sometimes - wasn't where she left it, and Marty claimed he never moved anything - and that wasn't even counting the back where the dumpster was. Something about the way the shadows fell, even with the back light turned on, made her not want to waste any time back there. It didn't matter that this was really a church, or maybe it mattered more. Mama always said you shouldn't disrespect a house of God; she had a feeling that holding runway shows and throwing parties with lots of alcohol didn't count as respect.

But it was a job, and it may not have been the best of jobs, but it was hers, and there were so many people who didn't have jobs right now. She needed this if she was going to keep a roof over their heads, and it would be too hard to find another if she lost this. Everyone knew that Mr. Benedict had hit a rough patch and was looking for reasons to lay people off. Not taking out the trash was a good reason to get laid off, she reminded herself, lifting the bag again and taking a small step out into the night. And then another. She didn't jump when the screen door crashed closed behind her, something she congratulated herself on as she took another small step forward. It wasn't that much further to the dumpster.

Saundra tightened her hold on the heavy trash bag, just in time to trip and fall over something on the ground. Swearing under her breath, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, trying to calm her racing heart. Probably someone missed the dumpster when they brought the last bag out. Or their bag ripped open and they just didn't care. She was probably now covered in trash, and wasn't that just what she needed trying to get out of here quickly. Reaching out, she felt for her bag, gently tugging it, and was relieved when it didn't seem to have any extra give. At least it didn't break open. Didn't mean she wasn't going to spend the next ten minutes cleaning up someone else's mess, though.

She stood with a sigh, heaving her bag into the trash and turning to try to figure out what it was she'd tripped on. She knew she could go and try to find Marty and get a flashlight from him, but she was pretty certain that it actually be quicker to just crawl around in the dark. And it'd involve less teasing on his part. Carefully choosing her steps, trying to avoid tripping and falling again, Saundra crouched down and tried to feel for the bag.

Her fingers encountered what felt like cloth. Frowning, trying to figure out who thought it would be a good idea to throw away a tablecloth, she reached a bit further where she encountered something else. Something firmer and more solid, but still soft under the fabric.

She took a tiny step closer, trying to figure out what it was. The chef had complained about some of the meats not turning out right, maybe someone had wrapped them in a tablecloth to throw so Mr. Benedict wouldn't find out? He had been preoccupied all evening; it would have been easy to get rid of the evidence without him noticing. But, she decided as her fingers followed along the firm, fabric-covered thing, it didn't feel right. Too long and skinny to be one of the hams. And just plain not shaped right for the turkey.

Then the object under her hands changed. Curved, harder, with less give. More... bony? Confused, Saundra reached out. Then quickly pulled her hand back when she encountered something that almost seemed like skin. Rolling her eyes, she laughed halfheartedly under her breath. Marty was behind this, that was the only explanation. The little twerp (she'd call him something harsher but she was still on church grounds) must have convinced one of the guys to lie out here and spook her. He'd missed his cue - it woulda made a lot more sense to sit up and scare her after she'd tripped. Maybe he'd decided to wait until she got up in his face. Or maybe he'd fallen asleep instead.

Well, she'd show him - and Marty - just who the scaredy cat was here. Reaching out, she poked the arm she'd been following. "Hey."

Nothing. She poked harder. "Hey! That's enough, we've got work to do."

She grabbed the arm and started shaking the guy. "You idiot, Mr. Benedict is going to fire us both if we're caught goofing off out here!"

There was a sound by the door, and the light flipped on above her as she could hear Marty's voice saying, "Hey Saundra, I got the light fixed, no need to fumble around in the dark. Hurry up, we're almost-"

She couldn't answer, just stared at the person on the ground. She started shaking. That wasn't one of the guys on the shift. It wasn't even someone working for Mr. Benedict. It was Mr. Benedict. And he- he didn't look good. Dead even.

"Saundra?" Marty asked, the door opening.

She scrambled back from the body and started shrieking. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod-"

..

Alexis was curled up on the couch in her pajamas, intently reading a dog-eared copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover. Castle tipped his head to the side, frowning. He was pretty sure he recognized the stain on the back cover. "Whatcha reading?" he asked, flopping down onto the couch next to her.

"A book, for English class," she said, turning the page.

"Uh-huh. How is it so far?"

Alexis glanced at him over the top of it. "I'm pretty sure you know how it is, Dad."

"So that is my old copy," he said. "Where'd you get it anyway?"

"Grams found it going through some boxes. Since it was on the list of books I need to read, she gave it to me," Alexis said, shrugging.

"Grams was going through boxes?" he asked incredulously. That thought was almost enough to scare him. He was pretty sure they had a rule about that. And if they didn't, they needed one.

"Sure I was, kiddo," Martha said, breezing into the living room as she flipped one corner of her gauzy wrap over her shoulder. "I was looking for my pashmina and found an old box of yours instead."

He frowned, somehow not surprised. "And you just decided to go through it?"

"Well, Alexis helped," Martha replied, patting her granddaughter on the shoulder. "Now, don't wait up," she continued, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm off to our cast party."

"Have a good evening," he called after her. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Alexis snorted softly. "Is there actually anything you wouldn't do?"

"Sure. Like..." He paused, thinking quickly. "Eat a peanut butter and jelly bean sandwich."

"Ew." She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass on that, too."

"But you won't pass on staying up all night watching Dirty Harry movies, will you?"

"Dad," she sighed, putting her book down, "it's a school night. I really need to be in bed-" She glanced at the clock. "-oh, about twenty minutes ago!"

"What, you stayed up late on a school night? Whatever is this going to come to?" Castle teased her, following her up the stairs. "Next thing you know you'll be playing hooky, too."

"No, I won't. I got distracted, it's a good book."

Castle made a face. "It's not that good."

"I'm enjoying it," she said, shrugging.

His phone rang before he could reply. "Castle. Oh, really? Sure, I'm on my way."

"Tell Beckett I said 'hi'," Alexis called out behind him as he hurried down the hall. "And don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"What? No," he said, turning back to frown at her. "That's almost everything I would do."

She grinned at him. "G'night, Dad."

..

"It was Wadsworth, out by the dumpster, with a... blunt object?"

Beckett glanced over at Lanie, both rolling their eyes as Castle joined them by the body. "Glad you could join us, Castle."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he vowed. He backtracked at the look she gave him. "Okay, I nearly missed it for a Dirty Harry marathon with Alexis, but TNT or USA or whatever cable channel it was plays those movies at least once a week."

"Or you could rent it," Lanie pointed out as Ryan and Esposito made their way out the back door. "Now that the gang's all here-"

"What can you tell us, Lanie?" Beckett asked, turning back to the body.

"I don't know about Wadsworth, but he got the blunt object part right," the Medical Examiner said, turning the vic's head to show a large wound.

"I will admit, it was the huge gaping hole in the back of his head that clued me in," Castle said. He turned to Ryan and Esposito. "Get it? You see what I did there? 'Clued'? Oh man, I amuse myself sometimes."

"At least you amuse someone," Beckett said without looking up. "Do you have any idea what he was hit with?"

"From the splinters in the wound, I'm guessing it was something wooden," Lanie said, glancing around the body. "There's nothing in the immediate area of the body, so either the suspect took it with him-"

"Or he threw it away," Beckett finished, glancing up at the dumpster. She looked back over her shoulder at Ryan and Esposito, both of whom cringed.

"No way," Ryan said as she stood, frowning at the trash. "Did you see that party in there? There's no telling what is in that thing."

"And I just got this suit back from the cleaners," Esposito added, looking disgruntled as Castle chuckled at their predicament.

"Don't worry," Beckett said with a smirk. "Castle will help."

"I will?" He grimaced at the thought. "I mean, sure I'd be happy to help, but, you know, I'm just here for the research. The inspiration-"

"Have you ever personally researched how a cop sifts through garbage to find a murder weapon?" Beckett asked, her head tipped to the side.

Castle paused, thinking for a moment before continuing, "Well, no-"

"Then this is your chance." She patted him on the arm before heading back inside the building. She glanced back from the doorway, giving him a devilish grin before crossing the threshold. "What, Castle, can't handle a little trash?"

"She not going to let me get out of this, is she?" he asked plaintively after she went inside, turning to Ryan and Esposito.

The two detectives, who were doing their best to not start laughing, shook their heads. "Sorry, man," Esposito said, handing Castle a set of gloves. "In you go."

"These are $700 Italian leather shoes, I'll have you know," he protested as he climbed the side of the dumpster.

Lanie rolled her eyes as two techs came to help her load up the body to go back to the morgue. "And I'm sure you won't have any trouble replacing them."

Castle glared at her but heaved himself over the side and into the dumpster, his nose wrinkling at the combination of smells. He was standing on a black plastic bag that squished unsettlingly underneath him. Every time he moved, or even shifted his weight, it shook just a bit, like it was just about to slide out from under him and dump him in all of the other muck in the bin.

"Find anything?"

He nearly jumped at Beckett's question, looking up to see her standing by the dumpster, her notebook in hand. "Uh, not yet. But I only just started looking."

She nodded, turning back to Esposito and Ryan. "We'll take it from here. Start talking to the witnesses, find out if they saw anything. The witness who found the body is still in shock. I'll talk to her when we're done out here, give her time to pull herself together."

"Sure thing," Ryan said. They both gave Castle a sympathetic look; he made a face at them in return. "We'll see what the party guests have to say."

Beckett turned back to him after the area cleared. "Well?"

"I'm still looking!" he said, carefully grabbing a piece of trash and moving it out of the way. It was a veritable mountain of plastic bags, a few of which had ripped open, unleashing their miserable, foul-smelling, gooey contents all over the dumpster. And his shoes. His poor shoes. He pushed one of the bags aside, a broad grin crossing his face.

"Bam said the lady," Castle said, holding up a piece of wood. "We have a murder weapon. A two-by-four. How... creative."

"Nice work, Castle," she said, grinning at him as she took the piece of wood so he could climb out of the dumpster.

There was an unnerving squelch when he hit the ground. He glanced down, taking in the new dark stains and bits of unidentifiable debris that spotted his shoes. "I'm gonna need new shoes."

..

"Are you in charge here?" a tall, well-dressed man demanded of them as soon as they entered the ballroom.

Esposito glanced at Ryan before turning back to the older man. "I'm Detective Esposito, and this is Detective Ryan, Mr.-"

"Amsel, Edmund Amsel." He shook both of their hands. "I'm the CEO of Amsel and Associates, a brokerage firm." He paused, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Excuse me, former CEO. It still takes some getting used to."

"You were the guest of honor at this party, correct?" Esposito asked, nodding at the banner near the entrance. Most retirement parties he'd been to had been at a bar, filled with a bunch of cops in rumpled suits and uniforms, and with the game on in the background. Not this, with the tuxes and fancy dresses, crystal on the tables, and a string quartet in the corner.

"Ah, yes," Amsel said, giving them a quick nod. "As I said, former CEO. I, ah, retired, and my son is taking over the company." He gestured to a younger man consoling a distraught older woman. "He's with my wife. I must say, I'm almost happy the doctor put Elisabeth - his wife - on bed-rest. She would have been here, otherwise, and she doesn't need to deal with this kind of commotion as far along as she is. It wouldn't be good for the baby."

Ryan nodded, then turned the discussion to what happened. "How well do you know Mr. Benedict?"

"Not at all," Amsel replied, shaking his head. "I had nothing to do with planning the party. Elaine just told me when and where to show up. She took care of the rest. Obviously I saw him here tonight, but beyond a brief introduction when I arrived we had no interactions."

"But you saw him here tonight?" Esposito asked. At Amsel's nod he continued, "When do you last remember seeing him?"

"I can't be certain. I wasn't trying to keep track of the man." Amsel rubbed his forehead as he thought. "I want to say I saw him just before they started serving dessert. He was by the door to the kitchen, directing things if you would. He seemed stressed, both then and when we met - I just assumed that was because of the party. It was rather large and must have required a lot of work. But that was the last I saw him. As I said, I wasn't actively looking for him, so he may have been in the room after that."

"What can you tell us about what happened?" Ryan asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid. The meal had just ended; they were holding a, what do you call it, a roast of me - my son and Elaine and a few of our colleagues. Let me see." He closed his eyes while he thought. "Elaine had just started speaking, making a joke about Esman and Associates. And then we heard it. A woman screaming. I-" He shifted his weight. "-I couldn't just ignore it. I was an MP in the service, you see. And those kinds of screams, they weren't the lighthearted result of a joke or from simply being startled. Something wrong had happened. You could hear it in her voice."

"So you went to the back?"

"Yes. A man came running down the hallway; he was wearing one of the waitstaff uniforms and said to call the police. I instructed Elaine to do that and went outside. There was a young woman, also wearing a waitstaff uniform, sitting near a man's body. She looked-" Amsel paused, carefully selecting his words. "-she looked like she'd been scared half to death. I told Charney, part of the security detail, to stay with the body, and my son and I helped her inside to the kitchen. We helped her get a glass of water and tried to get her to calm down. I couldn't see how anyone could get any useful information out of her in the state she was in."

Ryan glanced at Esposito, then nodded as he finished taking notes. It matched with what Beckett had gotten so far on that witness.

"Have any threats been made against you or any of your staff as of late?" Esposito asked, wanting to cover the possibility that Benedict wasn't the target. It wouldn't be the first time the killer got the wrong person. There wasn't anything pointing to that as of yet, but he wanted to keep all the potential bases covered. You never knew when something might change.

"Detective, I run a brokerage firm in the middle of a credit crisis. Of course there have been threats, and our security consultants have evaluated each and every one to determine just how much of an actual threat they were." Amsel paused, rubbing his forehead. "Excuse me, used to run. My son's office would be the one fielding those threats now. I'm sure he can get you whatever information you need."

"Thank you, sir, we would like to speak with him next," Ryan said.

Amsel nodded and, turning, caught the younger man's attention and waved him over. He patted the woman's shoulder and approached him, to be introduced by his father as Peter Amsel. The elder Amsel then excused himself, joining his wife at the table his son had just left. It was one of maybe twenty such tables, each seating eight people, Esposito stifled a groan as he did the mental arithmetic. They were going to be here all night talking to witnesses. He hoped Beckett got something useful from the waitress.

..

It was hard to ignore the squeaking noises his shoes made as they walked into the kitchen, especially with the shocked looks and wrinkled noses that came his way. He glanced over at Beckett, who was somehow ignoring both the looks and the smell emanating from him. He briefly considered a biting comment - it was her fault he went dumpster diving - but decided on a different form of revenge. Now that he had his "research" he should use it. Oh yes, Nikki Heat was going to find herself searching a stinky, rotten, food-filled, revolting-

"Castle?"

He looked up, swallowing at the look Beckett was giving him. "Yes?"

"Are you okay? You were looking a little-"

"I'm fine, just doing some, ah, mental plotting for the next Nikki Heat book."

"Figured. You had that megalomaniac look on your face."

"Megalomaniac? I am not a megalomaniac. I was just… thinking, about what certain characters would do if faced with our current situation," he hedged, frowning. He didn't looking like a megalomaniac, did he?

"That's an easy answer," Beckett said, lifting an eyebrow and nodding towards the young woman sitting at the table near the back of the kitchen. "Talk to the witness."

"Well, yeah, that could work, too," he said, shrugging nonchalantly.

Beckett smirked before turning and approaching the woman who had found the body. She was young, he thought, probably not that much older than Alexis. He mentally revised his estimate when she looked up at them. She may have been young, but her eyes were looked old. She seemed to curl in on herself as Beckett took a seat facing her.

"Saundra Cragin?"

"Um, yeah," Saundra answered, looking down at her hands. They were trembling a bit, Castle noticed as he circled to the other side of the table. There was an empty glass in front of her, which she half reached for then stopped, "You're here to- to talk about what happened?"

"Yes," Beckett answered simply, nodding. "Do you think you're ready to talk?"

Saundra looked at them both, shrugging in a way that made her seem even smaller. "I guess so. I--" She stopped, glancing over at the clock and flinching. "--I gotta be at my other job in a few hours, is this gonna take long? I'll have to catch the bus and-"

"We can have an officer give you a ride if you need one," Beckett said, patting the young woman on the hand.

Castle stood and reached across the table and picked up her glass, taking it to the sink and letting the tap water run for a while, getting cold, before refilling it. Saundra gave him a grateful look as he set it back down next to her. "Take your time. I'm sure your boss will understand."

"Maybe he won't fire me," Saundra said, shrugging slightly, "but I need the hours, you know? It's hard to get them these days. Everybody needs the hours, and if someone else takes my shift this week, they might end up with it next week, too."

"We'll do what we can to help you make it on time," Beckett said. "What can you tell us about the events of this evening?"

"We're having this huge party, a retirement bash for some important guy." Saundra sort of rolled her eyes as she spoke. "Seems kinda silly to me, spending all that money just because he's retiring, but I wouldn't have a job if people stopped doin' stuff like that."

"And you saw Mr. Benedict when you arrived?"

"Oh, yeah. He's a pretty good boss, stops and checks to make sure everyone is doing okay, That we know what we're doing and when we're supposed to do it. But he's not a micro-manager, either." She did roll her eyes this time. "That's what his assistants are for, getting on your ass and making sure you get everything done on time. Mr. Benedict checks in at the beginning of each shift, but then he's out on the floor, working with the client, fielding any potential emergencies, making sure everything looks okay out there."

"So, you saw him at the beginning of your shift? How'd he seen?" Castle asked.

"Okay at first, then when Marty came back to get some refills for the bar he said that Mr. B was really upset about something. Furious, even - something about someone who wasn't supposed to be here. It had to do with money, I think."

"Money?" Beckett asked, looking interested. Castle nodded; money always meant motive.

"Yeah. Mr. B made a huge gamble with this place. He spent a lot on the renovations, getting this place fixed up to code and everything for these parties. But, you know, people aren't throwing as many big parties and stuff; so he's not hosting as many events as he was planning. There's been talk that people might get laid off. Probably will now, too."

"How did everyone react to the rumors of the layoffs?" Beckett asked.

She shrugged. "You know, how people usually react to them. Some, like Trevor, were really angry - he started looking for another job right away. Quit yesterday, too, left us shorthanded tonight. But me, I figure it's best not to borrow trouble. I did some looking, but then I'm always looking. We're always looking. None of us plan to stay in the service industry, working long, and late, hours on minimum wage, but I'm not leaving 'til I find something else that pays better. And Mr. B, he may start us on minimum wage, but he gives you raises if you do good, or at least he did. Not a lot of places can give me enough hours or high enough pay to be comparable to this job."

"Did any of them make any threats against Mr. Benedict?"

"I don't think so?" She phrased it as a question, shrugging as she spoke. "Not that I ever heard of, I guess. But, you know, if you were going to be making threats against someone and actually planning to follow through, you'd hope to be smart enough to not mention it to anyone. But maybe that's just me."

Castle pursed his lips together, trying to not smile. He glanced at Beckett, which was nearly a bad move. He could tell that she was trying not to laugh, too. If only more criminals were half as smart as their witness. He turned back to Saundra, who was watching them both closely. "Do you know who Mr. Benedict saw? That your colleague said wasn't supposed to be here?"

"Nah, but it musta been someone fancy. Because it wouldn't have been someone working for Mr. B. So it had to been one of the guests, and they were all fancy, if you know what I mean." She leaned in toward Beckett, lowering her voice to whisper softly, "One of the ladies was talking to another when I was checking the restrooms. They were talking about their weaves and man, those things cost them more than I make in a month!"

Beckett nodded, a small grin crossing her face. "So I've heard. You don't know which of the guests, but did Marty say why that person's presence upset Mr. Benedict? Just what it had to do with money?"

"Nah, you'd hafta ask him."

"How about when you took the trash out? Can you tell us what happened then?"

It was, Castle noted, like a switch was flipped in Saundra. She had been coming out of her shell, warming up to them as they talked, but suddenly she seemed to fall back in on herself again, shrinking down and grabbing the glass of water. "I- I had to take the trash out. It was the last bag - Jean was finishing up mopping the floors, and Di was checking the bathrooms one last time. We had the early shift, got here when the cook did to help him. He'd already left for the day, once he was finished with dessert, but 'cause we were the early ones, we didn't have to stick around to clean up after the dancing. That works better with my other job."

"So you took the trash out back, but you didn't see the body right away?"

"Not until I tripped over it," Saundra said, a hitch in her breath.

"You tripped over it?" Castle asked incredulously.

"The light was out. Well, I thought it was; it had been all night, and we'd been busy enough I didn't think Marty'd get the chance to fix it. So I didn't bother turning on the switch, just went out with my bag and tripped on something and I--" She stopped and took a long drink of water, not looking at either of them. "--I thought he was just messing with me at first. Marty knows how much this place gives me the creeps. I figured he was behind it, trying for a laugh. So I got all mad at him when he wouldn't sit up. Then Marty turned the light on, cause he'd fixed it after all, and it was Mr. B and his eyes looked funny and there was this crumpled spot on his head and I- I don't really remember much after that. Marty was yelling and someone said something about the police and someone else helped me up and in here and that's it. Nothing else."

"When do you remember last seeing Mr. Benedict?" Beckett asked her.

"Um, maybe when we were cleaning up the dinner plates? I remember he was talking to this blond lady and didn't look very happy."

"About money?" Castle asked, jumping on the connection.

"I don't think it was about what Marty was talking about, if that's what you mean. But otherwise, maybe? I think she's the person who booked us, so she's probably the one who paid for this whole thing."

"And maybe she decided she wasn't getting what she paid for," Castle offered, extrapolating from what Saundra told them. He flinched at the look Beckett gave him.

"I don't know. I thought it was pretty good. We got to eat also, before we started cleaning up; one of the perks of the job, I thought it tasted good. The cook was all upset earlier because something was wrong with the meat, but I thought it tasted just fine."

"Very good, thank you, Saundra." Beckett waved over the officer standing in the doorway as she spoke. "Officer Watkinson will help you get home."

"That's all you needed?" She looked relieved as she stood.

"That's all we need. I would like for you to take my card," Beckett said as she held one out. "In case you think of anything. And we will be in touch in case we have any more questions."

"So," Castle said, turning to Beckett as Saundra left with the officer, "we need to find that blond."

"Not just yet," Beckett said, shaking her head. "I'd like to talk to Marty first. It sounds like he has more information on Benedict's finances."

"And he'd have a better idea who the blond woman was and how she's connected to everything," Castle added. Beckett gave him a skeptical look. "What? Have you seen that crowd? I'm betting at least 50% of them are blond and at least 50% of those didn't come by it naturally."

..

Esposito glanced around the room as they finished speaking with Peter Amsel. The younger Amsel didn't have much to add to his father's story. He had been waiting for his father's assistant to finish her portion of the "roast" before he went on when the screaming began. Like his father, he'd followed the sound and assisted with helping the waitress who found the body. For the most part, in Esposito's opinion, it didn't seem like either of them had anything to do with what had happened. He thanked him and let him go, motioning to the uniform to send someone else their direction.

Their next victim approached, a tall, dark-haired man who explained that he wasn't affiliated with Amsel and Associates, but his girlfriend was an employee.

"So it was natural that I come along. Elaine and I have been together for nearly a year now," their witness, one Chad Seigel, explained. He glanced over at one of the tables to a blond woman who was talking with Peter Amsel.

"Did you know the victim?" Esposito asked him.

"Well, I guess. I knew of him," Seigel said, shrugging a bit as he adjusted his cuffs. "His name has been out there."

"When did you last see him tonight?" Ryan asked.

Seigel brushed his hair back, tapping the back of his neck with his index finger before answering. "Sometime during the meal, maybe? I wasn't paying any attention to him. I was here for the party."

"What do you remember happening?" Esposito asked, frowning.

"Elaine was up on the stage, doing a comedy act with some of her colleagues at Amsel and Associates. You know the kind, telling a bunch of really harsh jokes about Mr. Amsel - the one who was retiring. There was some screaming and yelling, someone mentioned a body and calling the police. Next thing you know Mr. Amsel - the one who was retiring, not his son - was telling everyone to stay where they are and wait for the police to arrive." He straightened his jacket again, giving them a half shrug. "I'm afraid that I don't know much more than that."

"Has Elaine mentioned any threats against the company?" Ryan asked him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Seigel paused to think before shaking his head. "Never mentioned a thing. But she doesn't bring work home. Neither of us do. It's our rule, keeps things on the level."

"What has she said about work?"

"Like I said, we don't bring work home."

"You mean to say she's never come home and said that she's had a bad day, there's a client who's being awful or something like that?" Ryan asked incredulously. It was rare for someone to not know anything about their partner's job.

Seigel shrugged again, flicking an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. "We don't talk about work. Period." He glanced up, giving them a leering look. "Elaine and I have better things to do."

"Of course," Esposito said. He may have looked sincere, but Ryan had been partnered with him long enough to see through it. "Do you have anything else that may be of use?"

"Not really," Seigel said, rubbing his neck. "Can I go now?"

"You'll have to wait until we speak with Elaine-"

"Nah, we came separately, I don't need to wait."

"Great," Esposito said. "We're done. But we'll need to keep in touch in case we have any more questions."

"Don't leave town," Ryan added, nodding solemnly when Seigel gave him a worried glance. "What do you think?" he asked Esposito as they watched the man leave.

"Oh, he's definitely hiding something," Esposito said, waving a uniform over. "But I want to know what before we talk to him again."

..

Marty was actually, according to the security guard who pointed him out, Martin Brandt, who was standing near the bar and talking to a woman wearing a waitstaff uniform. He looked up when Beckett said his name, giving the woman a quick hug before stepping away to speak with them.

"Sorry," he said. "People are taking this kinda hard. Mr. B was pretty cool, and most everyone liked him. It's kinda surreal. I still can't believe that Saundra was the one who found his body. I mean, of all the people who'd go back there. She's a good kid, but easily freaked out."

"What can you tell us about tonight?" Beckett asked, tipping her head to the side.

"It's like any other party. First shift gets here to help the cook prep and get the tables set up. Second shift gets here to help first shift serve. Guests arrive, everyone gets fed. I grabbed a bit while the guests were eating so I could stay out here while the rest of the crew ate. Mr. B kept a plate just inside the kitchen door - he'd pop in and get a bite whenever things looked calm. But he couldn't disappear for too long during the meal; he had to maintain a presence out here."

"When'd you last see him?"

"It was before we served the dessert. There were some problems, and I couldn't find him to help out."

"Problems?" Castle asked.

"Wrong stuff to the wrong tables. Nothing too serious, nothing to get killed over. Or that you'd expect to get killed over." He laughed nervously, picking at the cuffs of his sleeves.

"We were told that Mr. Benedict was upset about someone being here? And that you knew what happened?"

Marty shuffled, glancing around the room. His gaze landed on a tall, dark-haired man currently talking to Esposito and Ryan. "See him? All I know is that his name is Seigel. He's a caterer, too. And he heard Mr. B was having money troubles and offered to buy into the company. Mr. B said that he hadn't worked as hard as he did building this place up for some guy to just sweep in here and try to buy him out."

Beckett nodded, glancing at the other detectives before turning back to Marty. "What kind of money troubles?"

"Not enough people throwing big, lavish parties like this." Marty lowered his voice. "Mr. B told me it was confidential, but maybe it's important now. He spent almost five million dollars getting this place fixed up and the proper permits and everything. Then, boom, the economy tanks. No one wants to spend the money. Suddenly he's got a lot of bills and nothing to pay them with."

"But Mr. Seigel offered to help," Castle said, jumping in, his voice soft. "Probably wanted to get use of the building out of it. Good location, nice ballroom, top of the line kitchen. Anyone in the business would want to get in on this."

"I don't know, but I do know this--" Marty shifted closer, giving Castle a conspiratorial look. "--I'm not the type to, you know, say something like this-"

"Say something like what?" Castle asked, frowning.

"Snitch. But Mr. B, he was real mad when that guy showed up. Said he was here to spy and stuff, that he was going to ruin everything. Mr. B. asked me to keep an eye on him."

"And?" Castle prompted.

"He disappeared. Poof. Gone." Marty leaned back, shrugging at them. "Here one minute, gone the next. I couldn't find him anywhere. I was going to tell Mr. B - I figured that if he had thought the guy'd be snooping around he should know he was gone, but he wasn't in the room and there was a problem and I had to take care of that. By the time I thought about it again, he--" Marty gestured to the person in question. "--was already back in the room."

"Do you remember about what time that was?" Beckett asked.

"Dessert," he said quickly. "The problem was with one of the dessert trays. Table six was supposed to get only chocolate-free choices, but whoever was making up the desert trays didn't make up one that didn't have any chocolate, so we had to quickly pull desserts from other trays to fill in." Marty shook his head as he remembered what happened. "It was something about a diet and avoiding temptation. All I know is that someone was about to have a fit, and Mr. B wasn't there to put out the fire."

"You didn't look for him?"

"And leave the floor? Number one rule, if Mr. B isn't out here, either I'm out here or Gracie is. Gracie was getting her dinner, so I couldn't go look for him. I thought about sending Di, but the girls were trying to get things cleaned up so they could get out of here. I assumed he thought it was safe to go finish his dinner. They were starting the talking part of the night, dancing was going to be after that. If there was a time for him to disappear unnoticed, it was when everyone was laughing at the comedians onstage."

"Did Gracie say anything about seeing him when she got back out here?"

"Nah, but it isn't that unusual. Are you going to tell a co-worker every time you have dinner with the boss?"

"How about when you found Saundra?"

"Gracie had just come back out, things were quiet out here, so I went to check on how the girls were doing in getting cleaned up. They were almost done, but Saundra hadn't gotten back from the trash. She gets spooked easily, you know, and, of course, that gets them spooked. Especially when she doesn't come back. Jean and Di were worried about her, but didn't want to go out there themselves. So I went back to see what was up."

"What did you notice?"

"That the light was off. I'd fixed it just before the guests started coming, so it should have been on. But I thought, hey, you know, I didn't mention it to the girls. Still, I mean, how many people actually remember a light isn't working before they try the switch? I usually don't, so I didn't think it was a big deal, they'd figured it out on their own. So I went to the back and told Saundra that the light was working. Flipped the switch and there was someone on the ground and she started screaming. I didn't get a good look at first, I just saw the blood and ran to get help. It's a big party with a lot of rich, fancy people. I figured there had to be a doctor in the crowd, there usually is."

"Was there?" Castle asked.

"No. But I said that someone needed to call the police and this guy - he was a guest, not someone who worked for Mr. B - and another guy went to the back and they were helping Saundra get calmed down while I made the 9-1-1 call." He glanced down. "One of them came back and said Saundra said it was Mr. B. And that he was dead."

..

"Who next?" Ryan asked Esposito as he looked around the room. The thing about big parties like this was that most of those involved didn't see anything. The uniforms could take care of the general statements.

Left those who did see something for him and Ryan, Esposito thought to himself as he looked around the room. And Beckett and Castle, but they were still talking with the victim's employees. They'd finished with the one who seemed to be Benedict's assistant, who had brewed some coffee and was working with the catering staff to see to it that everyone had some. A waitress had brought cups over for him and Esposito, offering to get them some leftover desserts as well with a sad look, saying it helped to have something to do while she waited. They'd both declined the sweets, but the coffee had been like manna - hot and strong, just what they needed to get through the interviews. He waved a uniform over, nodding at the room when he joined them.

"What are they saying?"

"Just a lot of people who were enjoying the show before the screaming started," he said with a shrug. "Of course, they all think what they saw was important, even if it wasn't any different than what their dinner partner saw. Especially-" He flinched, nodding behind them.

Esposito turned around just in time to see a middle-aged woman come barreling to a halt in front of him. She teetered a bit on her heels, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath as soon as she started to speak. "I want to speak with a Detective!"

"You've come to the right people, ma'am," he said politely as Ryan nodded solemnly next to him. "I'm Detective Esposito and this is Detective Ryan. I understand that you were a guest here tonight?"

She gaped at him. "How'd you know?"

"Um, ma'am, you aren't wearing a serving uniform," Ryan helpfully offered.

She nodded, then pulled herself up imperiously. "I am Felicity Banks. My husband is one of Edmund's partners."

"Go on," Esposito said, nodding.

"Oh, I should have known it'd come to this. I should have known. Elaine wanted to go with a different caterer, but this outfit underbid and of course, in this economy, you can't go for better quality. You must go for lower prices. It's going to be our undoing."

"Can you tell us what you saw, Mrs. Banks?"

"What I saw?" She stared at him in shock. "Why, young man, I didn't see anything. As I was trying to explain, it was obvious from the beginning that this was going to end tragically."

"Uh-" Ryan tried to cut in, quickly shutting his mouth when she turned to him with a caustic glare.

"It was all too obvious. Even if they had this place to use - that was what decided it, you know, the company doesn't have a space big enough, and the other caterer didn't include a space in their bid - it just wasn't worth it. Can you believe, they brought the wrong desserts to our table?" She hiccupped, swaying slightly, but glared when Esposito put out a hand as if to catch her. "The. Wrong. Desserts. What kind of cheap outfit does that? I mean, really. How can you call that service?"

"Ma'am," Esposito interrupted, putting up a hand when she turned her glare on him, "do you have any information about the murder of Miles Benedict?"

"Of course not. Dreadful affair, that is. Can you even imagine what the papers are going to say about this in the morning? A murder! At Edmund's retirement party! Someone is going to think the company is responsible, and everyone's going to run and take their accounts elsewhere and the company will go under and we'll all be on the streets! Just you don't see if that happens!" She declared loudly, pointing at them. She swayed again, and this time Esposito did grab her arm, helping her into a nearby chair. She closed her eyes and moaned. "Oh, we'll be ruined once this gets out. Ruined."

"It can't be that bad, ma'am. How's that saying go? There's no such thing as bad publicity..." Ryan trailed off with a self-conscious grin as both Mrs. Banks and Esposito turned and lined vicious glared at him. He was a smart guy. He knew when to shut up.

..

Putting down her cup of coffee, Beckett waved over the timid young woman who had just entered the ballroom. She rubbed her arms as she took a seat, glancing at Castle before turning back to Beckett. "Marty said you has some questions for me?"

"Yes, you are Jean?

She nodded. "Jean Merrill, I'm on the first shift crew."

"How does that work?" Castle asked. "Marty mentioned that a party like this has two shifts."

"First shift comes in to set up, help the chef in the kitchen, get the tables dressed, those kinds of things. The second shift comes in right before the guests arrive, and both shifts serve. We, first shift, leave after the kitchen gets cleaned up once dessert is served. The rest stay until the end of the night. Mr. Benedict started doing it that way last year. He needed more people for serving than he did before and after." She hunched her shoulders as she continued softly. "He said it was more fair for everyone. Instead of bringing one group in for the whole night and another group just for serving, everyone gets equal hours. The later shift gets paid twenty-five cents an hour more than the early, but it isn't enough extra to make me want to stick around that late. And it makes it easier for those of us working two or more jobs to work things into our schedule."

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Benedict?"

Jean glanced at the kitchen door as she replied. "Probably right before we started taking dessert out? I know he wasn't there when we had that problem with that one table. I wasn't really paying attention, otherwise. Mr. B was good about being around when you needed him and out of the way when you didn't. Well, he wasn't so good tonight. Between his girlfriend and someone showing up here he was really distracted. Nothing like he usually is. Was."

Beckett nodded, sipping her coffee. "The person who showed up, what can you tell us about that?"

"Some guy," Jean said. "He had dark hair and came with the blond lady who was in charge. Mr. B was really mad he was here, said he was conspiring against him and was here to sabotage things. He was worried the guy was going to start something, told all of us to keep an eye on him."

"Did he do anything?" Castle asked.

"He ate," Jean said, quietly. "He had a notebook once when I refilled drinks at that table, it looked like he had written down the menu. I told Mr. B, he wasn't happy about that but said if it was the worst this guy did we'd survive." She paused, glancing over at Beckett. "That's how Mr. B put it, 'we'd survive'. He- he didn't- do you think he knew? That he was gonna get killed and that that guy would be the one to do it?"

Beckett pursed her lips; while she agreed that something hinky was going on with the mystery guest, she didn't want anyone - witness or officers - jumping to conclusions without anything to back them up. "Did you see anything to suggest he killed Mr. Benedict?"

"Not really," Jean picked at her fingernails as she thought. "I didn't seem them talk, or anything, but Mr. B was really upset the guy was here. And he left during the dessert course, he wasn't there when I cleared the table. He was back later, watching his girlfriend up on stage. But he could have done it, right, since he was gone?"

"It is a possibility we'll look into," Beckett said carefully. "We'll have to check with everyone who was here, someone may have seen him in the bathroom or something else."

Jean gave her an unconvinced look. "If he was in the bathroom all that time then he's got other problems. Ones he might wanna see a doctor about. He was gone for a long time."

..

"What's the word?" Ryan asked as Castle and Beckett joined them at the back of the ballroom. It was slowly clearing out, witnesses leaving after giving their statements and leaving their contact information. He'd talked to so many people his voice cracked as he spoke no matter how much coffee the servers had given him, and he knew Esposito wasn't faring much better.

"Mr. Benedict," Castle said, dropping into what Ryan had come to call author mode, "was, unlike his namesake, well loved by all. At least all his employees. He was a fair and equitable boss, who was supportive of his employees and happily doled out things like merit raises, despite possibly not having enough to make ends meet. He worked hard, spent most of his time at an event like this in the thick of the party, making sure everyone was happy. And he disappeared around dessert."

Esposito glanced at Beckett and rolled his eyes. "Boss?"

"His employees seemed to like him," she said, ignoring Castle's put-out look. "He usually stayed out on the floor, his assistant noticed him missing when there was a problem with some desserts ending up at the wrong table-"

"Yeah," Ryan said, flinching as he spoke. "We heard all about that."

"He was having some money troubles," Beckett continued. "Put too much money in this place without enough events coming in to pay for it."

"Which brings us to-" Castle stopped, pausing, then inclined his head at Esposito and Ryan. "First, what did you two learn?"

"It's a horribly tragic event that's going to ruin Amsel and Associates." Ryan made a face as he recounted their frantic witness' words.

Esposito finished up for him. "And Amsel's assistant's date is holding out on us."

"We've got a uni running down his info," Ryan added, "to see if there are any connections."

"There are," Beckett said with a small smirk. "According to Benedict's assistant, your guy-"

"Chad Seigel," Ryan offered helpfully.

"-Chad Seigel is also in the catering business. And when he heard about Benedict's money problems, he offered to help."

"I guess you can imagine what Benedict's answer was," Castle said, quirking his eyebrows. "And how excited Benedict was to see him here tonight."

"Actually," Esposito said, flipping through his notebook, "that explains something else. Mrs. Banks-"

"The dessert lady. Completely toasted and possibly already off her rocker even before this began," Ryan added. He closed his mouth when Esposito glared at him.

"Mrs. Banks mentioned that 'Elaine' wanted to go with a different caterer, but Benedict underbid. If she's dating a caterer-"

"Who got beat out for this party by someone else-" Ryan interrupted.

"That's what we, in the mystery business, call motive," Castle finished.

Beckett rolled her eyes at him before turning back to the other detectives. "Where's Seigel now?"

"He went home," Esposito said, nodding his head at Beckett's annoyed look. "Yeah. Let's just say that he's lucky he's not dating my sister. Apparently since he and his girlfriend arrived separately, he decided it wasn't a problem to leave her here."

"Wow." Castle shook his head. "That takes some class. There was a murder, and he doesn't think twice about abandoning a loved one at the scene of the crime?"

"Maybe it wasn't class," Beckett said, catching Castle's eye. "Maybe it was guilt."

"Or fear of getting caught," Esposito suggested.

"Or indigestion," Ryan mumbled, glancing at one of the tables. He flushed when everyone turned to him. "I mean, did you see how rich those desserts were?"

..

It was late enough - or perhaps early enough - when he finally got in that Alexis was up, reading her book as she ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast. She looked up when he came in, wrinkling her nose when she got a whiff of him. "What happened?" she asked, looking both shocked and disgusted.

"You see, Alexis, occasionally when one person doesn't get along with another person, that first person, sometimes also called a bad guy - except when they're the good guy - decides to kill the second person--"

"Dad," she said, "I know there was a murder. That's usually the only reason why Beckett calls you, remember? What happened to you?"

"Well," he started, trying to think of a good way to spin it, "I was doing some research."

"Research?" She raised an eyebrow, reminding him that she could see through him almost as well as Beckett. Sometimes he wondered if they shared tips or something.

"Yes, research," he said, opening the fridge and looking inside. Technically it was early morning, and he probably shouldn't have that beer he was craving. Technically he also hadn't gotten to bed yet, so it was still "evening" for him. He grabbed it, twisting it open as he turned back to her. "I was researching weaponry disposal methods as used by the city's murderous population."

"Weaponry disposal methods?" Alexis asked, looking confused. That said, she was also a very bright young woman - which she got from his side, thank you very much; not to say that Meredith isn't smart, she just isn't as smart as he - and he could tell the instant understanding dawned on her. "You went dumpster diving."

"As I said, it was research."

"Meaning, Beckett made you," Alexis said, failing at hiding her grin.

"Whatever you do, don't let Grams hear you say that-"

"Don't let Grams hear what?" Martha's eyes grew wide as she covered her nose. "What is that smell?"

"Dad got to do some extra 'research' today," Alexis said, ignoring his frantic attempts to stop her. "Beckett made him go dumpster diving."

Martha chuckled as she turned to him. "Research? So that's what they're calling it these days. You know - well, perhaps you don't, you were quite young at the time. But I was in the off-Broadway production, off-off-Broadway, in a tiny theater on, oh where was it? Anyway, in one of my scenes I had to climb into a dumpster looking for, well, it doesn't really matter exactly what it was. A gift my character had been given, only to change her mind on. As I was saying-"

"I'm fairly certain that the dumpster you were climbing in wasn't filled with leftover food scraps."

"Of course not! Can you imagine putting something like that in the middle of a theater? Especially a theater as small as that one was, with that kind of smell? We wouldn't have lasted past the first night."

"Thank you, Mother, for making my point," Castle said, giving her an obnoxious smile. "That was nothing like what I did."

"Of course not," Martha said, shaking her head dramatically. "I didn't say it was. Just that it reminded me of that scene. Richard-" He hated that patronizing look she was giving him. "-did you just get home? After being out all night at that murder? No wonder you're cranky, someone needs to go to bed."

"You just might want to take a shower first," Alexis added with a grin as she rinsed out her cereal bowl. "I've got to get to school. I'd hug you goodbye, but then I'd have to go change clothes and would be late."

"Very funny," Castle said, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "Have a good day at school. And be sure to ask your teacher a lot of uncomfortable questions about your book."

"I'll leave that for you during Parent-Teacher conferences later this week," she returned as she grabbed her book-bag and headed out the door.

Castle cringed. He'd forgotten about Parent-Teacher conferences coming up. "I don't suppose I could play hooky?"

"And miss out on the change to learn more about the people who are helping to shape your daughter's future?" Martha asked. "Go get cleaned up, kiddo. and get some rest. Surely Beckett doesn't need your help for a few hours."

..

It was just past noon when Beckett looked up to see Castle come traipsing into the precinct looking as fresh as a new leaf and carrying two bags of take-out.

"I hope you like Lindy's sandwiches," he said, opening the bags and pulling out sandwiches. "I figured you hadn't bothered to eat. Where are Ryan and Esposito?"

"Tracking down Seigel," she answered, taking the sandwich he handed her. It was labeled "KB", and she carefully unwrapped it to find a ham and provolone on rye.

"With hot mustard and real mayo, not salad dressing, just like you like it," Castle said, putting the other bag on Esposito's desk. "So, what'd you find?"

"Do I want to know how you knew this?" she asked, taking a bite of the sandwich and chewing slowly, savoring the taste.

"I have eaten with you a few times, you know. I pay attention. So, case?"

"I put in a call to Benedict's accountant, who said that he was having money problems. And that he'd heard about Seigel's offer to buy into the company. Benedict had been furious over it, certain that Seigel wanted to use the building he'd renovated for his parties." She took a bite of her sandwich, ignoring Castle's gestures to try to get her to continue.

"And?"

"I'm eating, Castle," she said once she swallowed her food.

"You can eat and explain at the same time. Trust me, I won't tell anyone if you talk with your mouth full," he said as he took a bite, proceeding to do just that.

"Some of us have manners, Castle," she said, shaking her head. "And maybe I needed a break. Not everyone went home for a nap."

"Wait." He did a double take. "You're wearing the same clothes. You didn't go home? I thought that was the plan."

"Plans change." She shrugged. It wasn't his fault the call had come after he left. "The Chief called, he wanted to know how we're doing on the case."

"Meaning he has a vested interest in it closing up quickly," Castle said, frowning at her. "And you - and probably Esposito and Ryan - ended up staying to work on it. Why?"

"I think you just explained the why," she observed, shooting him a look that said she was unimpressed with his deductive skills as she took another bite.

"No, not why did you stay, why did the Chief call?" he asked, pulling out a bag of fries and offering her some.

"Guess which brokerage he uses?" Beckett asked him, snagging a handful of fries. They were the seasoned kind, which she hadn't had in ages, and she damn near moaned as she savored them.

"Amsel and Associates," Castle said, nodded his head in understanding. "He's probably at least acquainted with the guest of honor last night and is concerned that any potential connections between him and the firm could muddy the waters. Especially if the press finds out."

"Mostly if the press makes the connection between him and the firm."

"And there's the general embarrassment factor," he continued when she frowned at him. "You know, murder takes place at the retirement party of a very powerful Wall Street CEO. I'm sure Amsel, especially if they're acquainted, had the Chief on the phone as soon as he left the party. Or at least as soon as he got up this morning."

"Either way, it doesn't matter. We've got a murder to solve, that's the important thing," Beckett said, crumpling her sandwich wrapper and tossing it in the trash. "Just because the Chief wants it solved quickly doesn't mean a thing."

"Except that you stayed up all night working on it instead of going home and getting any sleep."

"Sleep is for wusses," Esposito said as he joined them. "Ryan's taking Seigel down to interrogation. You in-- Is that food?"

"Uh-huh," Castle said, pushing a the bag over to him. "Hope you don't mind sandwiches."

"From Lindy's?" Esposito asked as he looked in the bag. "From the-"

"Hey man, you coming back?" Ryan interrupted, looking frustrated as he joined them. "Seigel's waiting."

"Let 'em wait." Esposito handed the bag over, unwrapping the sandwich he grabbed as he continued, "Castle brought food."

"Thank god, I'm starving," Ryan said, collapsing into his chair as he tore open his sandwich. "Where from?"

"Lindy's." Esposito turned back to Castle., "As I was asking, original or the new?"

"Original," Castle looked far too please with himself, Beckett decided.

"Really?" she asked, unconvinced.

"It was on the way." He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. Castle saying that the original Lindy's was on the way was like her saying a stop in Jersey City was "on the way". "Uh-huh."

"And fries?" Ryan asked before Castle could say anything, grabbing the bag. "Are these the-?"

"Uh-huh." Castle winked at Beckett as he replied. She responded by rolling her eyes.

"What's Seigel said so far?"

"Nothing useful," Ryan answered around a mouthful of food, ducking when Esposito swiped at him.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, man, that's gross."

"You like sea food?" Ryan asked with a grin before taking another bite.

"Don't," Beckett said, glaring at them both. "If you're finished acting like three-year-olds-"

"Sorry, Mom," Ryan said, hiding a grin as she rolled her eyes.

"Seigel?" she reminded them.

"Thinks we brought him in for a few more questions. We didn't say about what."

"Good, I'll get started with him." She stood, smoothing her red shirt as she turned towards interrogation.

"Hey, hey, hey, slow down there," Castle said. "Technically he is their witness. Stick around a while, enjoy the camaraderie, have some dessert, let him sweat."

Seigel was less likely to realize they were onto him if Esposito and Ryan interviewed him again. She crossed her arms as she turned back, refusing to admit he had a point. "Dessert?"

"Cheesecake," he said, holding up another bag emblazoned with Lindy's logo in one hand, plastic silverware in the other. "Fork?"

Grabbing the proffered utensil, she sat back down and waited as he pulled out a carton, which he handed her with a flourish. She opened it, taking a large forkful of the rich concoction. Giving herself five minutes, she closed her eyes and let the tension flow from her shoulders as she ate. They all needed the break. Even without the Chief's interference it had been rough, spending the entire night at the crime scene. The added pressure wasn't going to help, but she refused to let it influence the way she worked the case. They'd find the killer, hopefully sooner rather than later, but they'd find him eventually. Hopefully they already had him, sitting in their interrogation room.

"Boss?"

She opened her eyes to see Esposito finishing up, Ryan tossing his wrappers in the trash. "Go see what Seigel has to say. And why he didn't say it last night."

"You want us to-?"

"Sure. He'll get his guard up if someone else goes in there."

Ryan nodded, slapping Esposito on the shoulder as they headed back. She ignored Castle's smug look as she stood and followed, finally turning and looking over her shoulder. "Castle. Coming?"

..

Seigel looked up when Ryan opened the door, sitting up straight as the two detectives joined him in the room. Ryan glanced at the window, knowing that Beckett and Castle were back there watching.

"Mr. Seigel," Esposito said, starting things out as he took a seat. "Thank you for agreeing to come down."

"We hope it isn't an imposition," Ryan added, schooling his face to look as harmless as possible. "We just need to clarify a few things about what you saw last night."

"Of course," Seigel said, glancing between them. "I'd be happy to do whatever I can to help."

"Wonderful." Ryan smiled broadly as he flipped through his notes. "Now you said you knew the victim-"

"Knew of him," Seigel clarified, shifting in his seat.

"Right," Esposito said, leaning over Ryan's shoulder to point at something in the notes. Ryan nodded, writing something down, as his partner continued, "Knew of him and his money troubles enough to offer to buy into his business. Isn't that right?"

"Well…" Seigel ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "Like I said, I'd heard of him. And you're correct, I'd heard he'd come on hard times. So, yes, I did make an offer."

"Which he turned down," Ryan said, tipping his head to the side.

"Yes," Seigel replied, folding his hands on the table in front of him, "he did. Which I understood - he didn't want to lose control of the company he'd worked so hard to build. There were no hard feelings. I was just trying to offer support to a fellow small-business owner in this hard economic time."

"Of course," Esposito said, flipping through the papers. "A fellow small-business owner who beat you out for what had to be a rather lucrative contract."

"You sure there weren't any hard feelings?" Ryan asked. "Your girlfriend's company hires the other guy for that huge party and you're completely okay with it?"

"You don't actually think I-" Seigel said something softly, under his breath as he ran his hand over his head. "Listen, I wasn't happy about losing the bid, but I understood why. It was the same reason I'd lost others to him, the same reason I wanted to combine our businesses - he has that building and doesn't have to rent additional space for large events like that. He can bid lower because of it. I wasn't out to get him, and I doubt he was out to get me. Do I like that Elaine had to hire him instead of me? No, but it meant I was able to enjoy the party instead of stress over whether or not I'd ruined things for her." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Trust me, by the day before the party I was glad I'd lost the contract. It probably saved our relationship. Elaine's been a mess, under enough stress with planning this thing, short tempered and snappish. We didn't need my temper getting the best of me at the same time. For us it's best to not extend our relationship into a work relationship."

"That sounds real nice," Esposito said, looking unconvinced. "But when you've killed someone and had all night to think about it, you can come up with all kinds of nice things to say."

"What? No, you got to believe me. I didn't kill Benedict."

"You disappeared from the party about the same time he did," Ryan said, glancing briefly at his notes. "Where'd you go?"

Seigel flushed brightly, sliding down in his chair and murmuring, "Oh my god."

"Mr. Seigel?"

"Um, where I was. I was not off killing Benedict, that much I can say."

"We're going to need more than that."

"Listen we weren't-I wasn't doing anything wrong," Seigel said, correcting himself. His face was bright red, at least that which wasn't covered by his hands.

"Mr. Seigel, we can't just take it on your word that you were doing anything wrong," Esposito explained, an eyebrow raised as he watched the man nearly writhe in embarrassment. "We need you to tell us where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with. Otherwise, you're looking more and more like our guy."

"I, um, I was with Elaine," he said, shifting uncomfortably. He refused to look at them as he continued. "She was, uh, nervous. About going onstage. And I was trying to help her calm her nerves."

"Did anyone else see you?"

"God, I hope not," Seigel mumbled.

"Mr. Seigel," Ryan said, shaking his head, "if no one else saw you-"

"We were, um, busy with something, okay?"

Esposito and Ryan glanced at each other, not saying a word. Behind them, in the side room, they could hear someone - Castle most likely - snickering and banging on the window. A muffled voice said, "They were having sex!" The pounding and voice stopped, and a door was heard slammed shut.

Esposito turned back to Seigel, ignoring the commotion outside, "You and Ms. Poell were busy?"

"Yes." Seigel slid further down in his seat. "She, she hates getting up in front of people and was incredibly nervous, dropping things, tripping over words, tripping over her own feet. So we, you know, found a side room that wasn't being used. I figured it'd help her relax a little."

"So, you had sex, in a public space? In a church?"

Seigel groaned, covering his face with his hands. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, you know?"

"Actually," Esposito said, shaking his head, "I don't. Can't say I've ever done that in a church."

"It wasn't sex-sex, you know?"

"Wait, you were having sex, but you weren't having sex?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. "I think you're going to need to help us out on this one."

"We were-- I was-- you know--?"

Esposito and Ryan shook their heads in unison.

Seigel wiped his hands down his face and took a deep breath. "Elaine was nervous and I wanted to do something for her, to help her calm down--"

"You already said that," Ryan pointed out.

Glaring at him, Seigel continued, "Like I said, we found a room that wasn't being used, and I, um, well, Iwentdownonher."

Ryan glanced at Esposito, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "You performed oral sex on your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Can anyone other than Ms. Poell corroborate your story?"

"It wasn't like we had an audience!" Seigel said, looking up at them. "Or at least I hope we didn't."

"We'll have to talk with Ms. Poell," Ryan said, straightening up his papers. "But you're free to go. For now."

"Thank god," Seigel said, standing so quickly his chair nearly tipped over. He straightened it up and rushed out the door, past Castle and Beckett in the bullpen.

Stegner and Karpowski were with them, Karpowski grinning as they walked up. "Castle was just telling us about your suspect's alibi. Sounds like they had fun."

"So," Castle said, quirking his eyebrows and grinning as he spoke, "Mr. Seigel and Ms. Poell having sex in the closet?"

"But not sex-sex," Esposito said, managing to keep a straight face.

Castle wrinkled his nose. "Not sex-sex? Who is he, Bill Clinton?"

"Other way around," Ryan commented by way of explanation.

"Other way--" Stegner grinned when she figured it out, glancing back in the direction Seigel left had taken. "Nice. Shame he's a suspect."

"And taken," Karpowski added with a chuckle. "He did that for her? Really?"

"She was nervous."

"Wait, you're saying he went... on her?" Castle asked, realization dawning. "Damn, he's whipped."

"More like well trained," Beckett said, quirking her eyebrows at him before turning for the Captain's office.

"I'm well trained!" Castle called after her.

..

The morgue was cold, as always. Castle was about to explain his theory about the temperature - that it didn't need to be that cold since all the bodies were in the refrigerator things, but it was just kept cold because people expected it and because it got visitors out more quickly - when Lanie saw them. She gave Beckett a warm smile and him a chilly nod, as he expected.

"What have you got?" Beckett asked, joining her at the examining table.

"As I said earlier, your victim died from blunt force trauma."

"Obviously, the back of his head was caved in," Castle pointed out. He flinched when Lanie glared at him. "But, please, continue."

"As I said, he was hit in the back of the head, here." She turned the victim onto his side, gesturing to the wound on his head. "But that wasn't his only injury."

"It wasn't?" Castle asked in surprise. This time Beckett glared, before turning to Lanie and rolling her eyes. He wasn't getting anywhere with anyone who had two X chromosomes today.

"Where else was he hurt?" Beckett asked.

"There's bruising to his arms, torso, and legs. That knock to his head wasn't the first hit his assailant got in on him. It just happened to be the one that killed him."

Beckett frowned, crossing her arms as she thought. "Was the bruising made from the same weapon?"

"The dimensions work," Lanie said, "but there weren't any wood splinters at any of the other injuries, so I can't be certain. The attacker may have had more than one weapon with him."

"More than just a two-by-four? Isn't that a little extreme?"

"More like premeditated," Beckett said. "If our murderer had multiple weapons, they were planning on killing someone."

"But right now I can't prove that, it's just a possibility. And a bit of a long shot, too. It would have to have been nearly the exact same shape and size as the weapon you found."

"It might be a long shot," Castle said thoughtfully, "but it isn't out of the realm of possibility."

"No, it is not."

"Can you give us anything else about the attack?" Beckett asked Lanie.

"Just that your attacker is short. From the angle of the attack, I'd say that they were five foot two to five foot three. Maybe five foot four at the most."

"Which just further proves that it wasn't Seigel," Beckett said with a nod. "He's around five-ten."

"So," Castle said, trying to pull everything together as Beckett's phone rang, "we're looking for someone short, with a grudge against Benedict and, potentially, a reason to be carrying around multiple weapons. Hmmm... I wonder how tall his girlfriend is?"

"We're about to find out," Beckett said, nodding to Lanie. "She's agreed to answer some questions and is waiting at the precinct.

..

Beckett rounded on Castle just outside the interview room, the look in her eyes suggesting that if he wasn't in trouble already he would be soon. He quickly wiped the smile off his face, trying to look innocent. "Yes, Detective?"

She rolled her eyes. "Dignity and decorum, Castle. We're going to be asking Ms. Poell be some rather intimate questions. We aren't going to get anything if she clams up on us in embarrassment."

"Got it. No embarrassing questions. Or not any more embarrassing than whether or not her boyfriend--"

"No questions, no comments, no snickering, no laughing, nothing from you, Castle," she said evenly as she opened the door.

"Sure," he said, following her in. "Oh, you forgot chuckling."

"Castle," She forced out through clenched teeth, glaring at him over her shoulder.

"Shutting up now."

He leaned against the window as Beckett sat across from Poell. "Ms. Poell," she said, "thank you for coming down on such short notice."

"Of course, though I, um." She shrugged as she spoke, her blond hair sliding over her shoulder as she moved. "I don't think there is anything I haven't told you."

Castle coughed, earning a glare from Beckett. He held up his hands in surrender, his eyes wide. "Sorry, throat's a bit dry."

She kept her glare on him for a few seconds longer than he felt necessary before turning back to Poell. "My apologies for Mr. Castle's interruption. However, I do need to ask you a few questions about last night."

"Um, okay."

"You left the ballroom prior to your appearance onstage, during the dessert course. Where did you go?"

Poell's eyes grew wide, and her face flushed bright red. "Um, Chad - Chad Seigel, my boyfriend - and I went to talk. I was uh, nervous, and he was trying to help me calm down. Before I went out on stage."

"Did anyone see you?"

"I don't think so?" She cringed noticeably at the thought. "I'm, um, pretty sure that where we were, um, talking was a private place."

It wasn't his fault that the sound of him clearing his throat was an awful lot like "bullshit". Really. That didn't keep Beckett from glaring at him and pointing to the door. "Castle. Out."

"Beckett, I didn't-"

"Out."

She had that look in her eye. The one that said he'd be dying a painful death if he didn't do as she said. As well as he'd come to know that look (there were at least three variations on it he'd cataloged thus far: him dying a painful death by fire, him dying a painful death by impalement - which involved her pointing her pen at him and was very phallic and more than a little bit kinky, now that he thought about it - and him dying a painful death by her running over him repeatedly with her police sedan), he'd also learned that if he wanted to avoid pain he needed to do as she said. With the best and most charming smile he could muster (he'd had practice at those), he gave them both a quick wave and backed out the door.

Once outside he was nearly ambushed by Valdivia and Ransom trying to get a look inside the room.

"Is that her?" Valdivia asked.

"Is that who?"

"You know, the girlfriend," Ransom said, grinning madly. "The one who-"

Castle had a feeling that the only way this could possibly end was badly for him. "You know, you probably should ask Beckett about that."

"Beckett'll kill us. Painfully."

"Better you than me," Castle said, tipping his head to the side and giving them a smirk.

Both flinched, glancing at the interrogation room door behind him and back at him. "You in the doghouse?" Ransom asked.

Valdivia snickered, slapping Castle on the shoulder. "It's Castle. When is he ever not?" They both chuckled at that, Valdivia turning back to him. "Bad break, man. Good luck."

Castle frowned at their retreating forms. He wasn't always in the doghouse, was he? Shaking his head, he joined the Captain in the viewing room. Through the window he could see Beckett with her back to them, talking to Poell - who looked like she was trying to crawl under the table.

"Did she tell Beckett or did Beckett ask her?" he asked, watching the window.

"Beckett told her that Seigel said they were together and she needed to see if their stories matched," Montgomery said, nodding at the glass. "Poor girl looked like she was about to have a heart attack. It's probably a good thing Beckett kicked you out; Poell would probably would have had one with you in there."

"I'm not that bad-" He paused, quickly revising his train of thought at Montgomery's look. "-most of the time. Usually."

"Uh-huh. You're lucky Beckett likes you."

"I think she'd beg to differ on that. The liking me part."

"Has she shot you yet?"

"Uh, no?"

"There you go." Montgomery turned back to the glass, watching the conversation going on inside. It looked like it was wrapping up, Beckett standing and leaving the room. They met her in the hallway, Esposito and Ryan joining them.

"Considering her reaction," Beckett said to Montgomery, ignoring Castle, "I think she's telling the truth. That kind of embarrassment isn't easy to fake. She's truly mortified that we know about her liaison with Seigel. Even though it does give him an alibi."

"So you think he really was off having sex with her," Montgomery said, holding up his hand when Castle opened his mouth to interrupt. "Sex is sex. We're not here to argue semantics."

"I just don't get why it's such a big deal," Castle said, looking confused. "So they were off having sex. So what? People do that."

"Try off having sex at a large event sponsored by her corporation to honor her boss. Just how quickly do you think she'd get fired if they'd gotten caught?"

"For some people, that only makes it that much more fun."

"Well," Esposito said, opening the manila envelope he was carrying and pulling something out, "it would explain why CSU found these." He held up an evidence bag containing a pair of lacy red thong underwear.

"Nice." Castle was impressed as he tipped his head to the side. "La Perla," he said, giving the detectives a wink when they looked surprised he recognized the brand. "She's got good taste. At least in panties."

"Castle," Beckett said in a warning tone. She shook her head at him as she took the bag from Esposito. "I'll go see if Poell recognizes these."

Castle watched the door of the interrogation room shut behind her. "I'm not always in the doghouse, am I?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Ryan questioned, smirking at him.

..

"Hey, how does bacon and eggs sound for breakfast?" Castle asked Alexis as she appeared on the steps, coming down from her room. She was dressed for school, her bag slung over her shoulder.

"Sounds great, but I'll pass," she said, pulling out her book before dropping her bag by the door.

"You'll pass?" He peered at her over the counter. "You aren't turning into one of those girls who don't eat breakfast, are you? Because you know breakfast-"

"-Is the most important meal of the day," she finished for him.

"Good. So, bacon? Eggs?"

"Oatmeal," she said instead, getting a bowl from the cupboard.

"Oatmeal?" He gave her an incredulous look, crossing his arms across his chest. "Who are you and what did you do with my daughter?"

"Very funny, Dad. There's nothing wrong with oatmeal for breakfast."

"It-it's healthy."

She grinned at him. "That's the point. What was that about breakfast being the most important meal of the day?"

"Well, yes. But what about it tasting good?" he asked while pouring her a glass of milk

"I like oatmeal."

"Now I'm really becoming concerned you're a pod person," he said, sipping his cup of coffee.

"Sorry, Dad. Just someone who likes oatmeal." She took a drink of her milk before changing the subject. "Ms. Hyland asked the class to tell their parents that it'll be easiest if you sign up for a conference time. You can call or email her to get a spot. You do have her email address, right?"

"Um…" he remembered her giving him that sheet at the beginning of the school year, one that had all of her teachers' contact information. But he wasn't exactly certain he remembered where he'd filed it. "I'm not certain I'll be able to go this year."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's this case - our lead fell apart, so we're going to have to start over."

"This isn't the first time you guys have had to start over on a case."

"Yes, but this one is a big one." He could tell from the look on her face that she wasn't convinced, but to his relief, she didn't press.

"Okay, I'll let her know."

There were times when she looked so much like his mother it scared him. This was one of those times. While it was rare for Martha to be truly disappointed in him, he'd been occasionally graced with that look from her. It was echoed on Alexis' face. "Thanks. Listen, I gotta go." He gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the forehead. "Have a good day at school."

"See you later, Dad."

..

Esposito wasn't surprised to find Beckett beat him in the next morning. He was surprised, however, to see Castle was already there, too. "Trying to get out of the doghouse?" he teased as he grabbed his mug from his desk.

Beckett gave him a puzzled look as Castle answered with a shudder, "No, trying to stay out of one."

"What'd you do this time?" Beckett asked, gracing the author with an eye roll as she sipped her coffee.

"What makes you think I did something?" Castle asked, looking affronted. The pleading look he sent Esposito nearly cracked the detective up.

"Don't look at me, man. This is your mess."

"I know you, Castle. What'd you do?"

"I told Alexis I might not be able to go to her school's Parent-Teacher Conferences this week."

"Why not?" Esposito asked, standing to go to the break-room for coffee. Both Beckett and Castle joined him, Castle grabbing the spare mug - which everyone understood to be his - from Beckett's desk.

"Well, you know, the case."

"The case?" Beckett rolled her eyes again. "Last time I checked, Castle, you weren't exactly employed by the NYPD. You won't get fired if you duck out to attend the conferences."

"You sure?" he actually looked hopeful when he asked. "I mean, while attending the academy isn't at the top of my list, I could probably call it research and use it as a tax write-off. And, okay, really not interested in the whole patrol thing, but I could be a detective! I help you guys detect things!"

"Translation: You are avoiding the Parent-Teacher Conferences," Beckett said. She had that glint in her eyes, the one that said if Castle said much more he'd find himself in a mess he wasn't going to like. Esposito was actually looking forward to it, if only because last time it meant he didn't have to dumpster dive.

"Do you have any idea how awful those things are? No, you don't, you're not a parent. Let me tell you," he continued, wagging his finger at them, "they're awful. You're in a crowded gym that smells like sweat and feet, surrounded by all these whining parents who are upset because junior isn't getting the grade they think he deserves when really they're the ones who should be making sure he does his homework. Then there's the single mothers who see you're not wearing a ring and God help you if they get their claws in you. You'll never get rid of them. And don't get me started on the teachers. Half the time they're sitting there, staring at you like you're an idiot and talking in monotone as they share useless information about their class without actually bothering to mention how your child is doing. The others are as bad as the single moms, and some of them probably are. I'm lucky to escape unscathed!"

"Aren't you usually?" Beckett asked, a small smirk playing across her lips.

"Only when I'm dealing with you, Beckett. Only when I'm dealing with you."

Beckett did a pretty good fish impression when caught off-guard, Esposito decided. "Hate to interrupt the love-fest," he broke in before she could make a retort at Castle, "but we got a dead guy, remember? And our suspect had an alibi?"

"Right," Castle said, grasping onto the thought with the enthusiasm of a drowning man grabbing a life preserver. Esposito knew the feeling. "What about the cake lady?" He held up his hands when both Esposito and Beckett turned on him with annoyed looks.

"What about what cake lady?" Ryan asked from the doorway.

"Writer guy here thinks the crazy cake lady is the one who killed Benedict," Esposito explained to his partner.

"Crazy drunk cake lady?"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hear me out," Castle said frantically, waving his arms and switching into author mode again. "Think about it. They're at a fancy party, all the stops have been pulled, and she's been assured that everything will be perfect, including her specific request for the dessert. Seeing as her husband is horribly allergic to chocolate, yet absolutely has no willpower when it comes to the confection, she's doing everything she can to avoid a relapse. And then, it happens. The server brings a tray full of chocolate cake to their table. She tries to intervene, tries to prevent it from happening, but to no avail. Her husband grabs a slice before she can stop him. She's furious: she was promised that their health and safety would be taken into account, and now she's going to be spending the night at his bedside in the hospital, holding his hand and hoping that he'll pull through. She sees the caterer from across the room and decided to go give him a piece of her mind. He's leaving, going out to check on something, so she follows him outside and tells him just what she thinks of his service. She's going to sue, she tells him. He doesn't like that and starts yelling back at her. The argument escalates, she grabs the piece of wood and hits him without thinking. Realizing what she's done, she goes back inside and grabs the first glass of wine she encounters. And the second. By the time the body has been found, she's completely blitzed."

"Not bad," Esposito said, nodding his head. Castle's theory had merit.

"Except for the part where Benedict had already disappeared by the time the dessert incident happened," Beckett said, shaking her head.

"And the whole incident was because of her diet, not because of any food allergies," Esposito added, thinking back to their interview. "I'd hope that isn't enough for her to haul off and kill someone."

"Okay, so do you have a better idea?"

"Actually," Ryan cut in, "I was going to suggest the woman."

"What woman?" Becket asked, turning to him looking confused.

"Um, the guy manning the entrance said there was a woman hanging around for a while just after the guests arrived. She had a ticket but couldn't get up the nerve to go inside. Or that was his impression. He got called in to help with something, and when he returned she was gone."

"Why didn't you mention her before?" Castle asked, looking surprised.

"Because we already had a viable suspect? Mystery woman who disappeared or guy with obvious motive? Motive wins."

"Word of advice," Castle broke in as Beckett started to open her mouth, "mystery woman always trumps just about everything else. It's practically a rule in mystery writing."

"No, this isn't a novel; this is the real world, and here motive trumps mystery woman," Beckett said, taking a deep breath. "And before he alibied out, Seigel was a better suspect because of that motive. Track down that bouncer and find out what you can about the mystery woman, what she looks like, where she got her ticket, you know the drill. Castle and I'll update the captain."

"Sure thing." Esposito clapped Ryan on the shoulder, all but dragging him out of the break room before he opened his mouth again. Beckett may have agreed with them this time, but who knew how far Ryan'd get his foot in his mouth next. That was something best left to Castle.

..

The bouncer, Anthony Greider, nodded when Ryan asked him about the woman outside the building. "Yeah, I remember her. Hot, looking mighty fine in the dress of hers. And she was going to show him."

"Show him?"

"Some guy inside," he shrugged as he explained. "I talked with her a bit, when it was obvious she wasn't going in. Turns out her ex had given her a ticket to the event, then turned around and dumped her. He was inside with - and I quote - 'someone young enough he could have been her not teenage father'. She was all dolled up, planning to give him a reminder that younger isn't always better."

"Ouch," Esposito said, shaking his head. "Left for a younger woman."

"Trust me, he would have been regretting it the minute he saw her. Way she looked, a supermodel would have been jealous."

"You didn't happen to get a name?" Ryan asked.

"Nope. Didn't think it was appropriate, once I heard the circumstances of her being there. Trust me, otherwise I woulda gotten her name and number. Just didn't seem right, though. She was there looking hot, out to make him remember what he'd lost out on. She didn't need me chatting her up."

"Then could you tell us what she looked like? Besides hot," Esposito asked.

"You mean mighty fine isn't good enough?" Greider laughed at his own joke, rolling his eyes with neither of them joined him. "Brown hair - not super dark, but not so light it's almost blond - green eyes. Five-five, maybe five-six - not certain, she had on heels that made her nearly my height, but they were some serious heels."

"Did she go inside?"

"Not sure. She had a ticket, and it was obvious she was trying to get her courage up. I told her to just go on in when she was ready. Then I got called away to help with a burnt out light bulb out back." He shook his head as he explained. "They needed someone tall to get it; the ladder wasn't high enough and was quiet out in front - just her hanging out. She was gone when I got back, so I figured she went on in."

"Did you see her later that night, in with the crowd while we were taking statements?"

"Nope. So maybe she didn't go inside. Or didn't stick around."

"Did she tell you anything about the ex?"

"Just that he was running the show." Greider paused. "Hey, what about that guy who died? Wasn't he in charge of the party?"

"Yeah, he was," Ryan said, nodding.

Greider shook his head. "Damn, I knew she was trouble. Some women, they just have that look to them, you know? She was hot, but trouble."

"Listen, man, if you remember anything else," Esposito said, holding out his card, "give us a call, okay?"

"No problem. I will be all about that."

..

Beckett rolled her eyes at Castle - who was attempting to balance a pencil on his upper lip - as she listened to Ryan on the phone. It sounded like the bouncer hadn't been able to give them much, but he had given them something. Something that, now that Saundra Cragin had arrived, she could possibly help them with. Hanging up her phone, she turned to her unofficial partner. "Castle."

Distracted, he dropped the pencil and looked over at her with a look she'd come to know well - his innocent "I didn't do it" look. "I'm going to go talk to Saundra. You coming or want to stay and work on your application for the circus?"

"No circus for me," he said, shaking he head as he followed her on back. "My mother briefly, thankfully briefly, dated a ringmaster from the Gardner and Deikmann Circus when I was ten. You think the clowns are freaky? They've got nothing on that guy. You've got to be a special kind of strange to join the circus."

"In other words," she said, smirking at him as she opened the door, "you'd fit right in." She didn't give him the chance to respond, turning to Saundra who was sitting at the table. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We have a few more questions to ask you about the other night."

"Uh-huh." Saundra nodded. "About what?"

Castle took his usual position by the window as Beckett sat across from her. "Did Mr. Benedict recently break up with a girlfriend?"

"Sara, Sara R-something. But her first name isn't actually Sara, it's short for something, I just don't know what."

"What does Sara look like?"

"I only saw her once, but she was about my height with brown hair. It's kinda longish and wavy. I was kinda surprised when I met her. She wasn't that much younger than Mr. B, not his usual type."

"He usually prefers younger women?"

"Yeah, his date to the party was younger than me."

"What else can you tell us about her?" Castle asked, leaning casually against the window.

"Like I said, she wasn't his type, but she really seemed to ground him, you know. She was good for him." She twisted a hair band around her finger as she spoke. "I think she's a musician or a singer or something. He'd occasionally talk about seeing her perform. And it wasn't little performances - we're talking Carnegie Hall and the New York Pops Orchestra. She was big time. And, really, I think that's one of the things Mr. B liked about her. He could point to her and say 'that's my girlfriend'. He was kinda superficial like that."

"When did he break up with her?" Beckett asked.

"He didn't. She broke up with him." Saundra glanced down at the table, wringing her hands. "I wasn't supposed to overhear - he was on the phone trying to reach her. It was about a month ago, maybe? He was leaving a message, and he wasn't happy. He accused her of screening his calls and avoiding him and not knowing why she was mad at him." She looked back up at Beckett. "I figured that she'd just figured him out. He's a great boss, but he's a rover. Always has his eyes on the new girls, stuff like that. He never touched or anything, but he was always looking."

"She broke up with him?" Castle asked, looking surprised. He closed his mouth when Beckett gave him a warning look.

Turning back to Saundra, she continued. "Did she have a ticket to the party?"

"I don't know why she would," Saundra said. "Mr. B brought his new girlfriend. Why would she come, too?"

"Do you know if Mr. Benedict ever told her about his new girlfriend?"

"He wouldn't have told me if he did, but I kinda got the impression that she wasn't taking his calls. I don't know how she woulda known. Maybe--"

"Maybe what?" Castle asked her, coming over to the table.

"Maybe it was Drea?" she said uncertainly.

"Who's Drea?" Beckett asked, leaning in.

"Mr. B has an office in Midtown - he says it keeps him close to his potential clientele. That's who he's really after for his events. He wasn't interested in catering sweet sixteen parties or anniversaries, he wanted the big corporate parties. And with that nice kitchen at-" She stumbled over her words, shaking a little. It looked like she was still spooked by what had happened the other night.

"-where the party was-" Castle offered.

"Since we got the nice kitchen there, he doesn't need a fancy place, just some office space. And Drea is his office manager. She knows all kinds of things and all kinds of people. I think Mr. B once said he met Sara through Drea."

"And if they were friends and Drea introduced her to her boss, she'd be sure to let her know when her boss had a new girlfriend," Castle said to Beckett.

"And that Benedict would be taking the new girlfriend to the party," she added. Across the table from them Saundra was watching them, wide-eyed as they theorized out loud.

"It's even possible that she might have been able to get her the ticket," Castle finished.

Beckett turned to Saundra. "Do you know Drea's last name and where we can find her?"

"Um, Delserone. She'll probably be at Mr. B's office. Someone has to run things. Marty said it's too late to cancel some of the events Mr. B had scheduled, so he's dealing with the catering stuff while Drea holds down the office."

"Thank you," Beckett said to Saundra. "You've been a lot of help."

"Is Drea in trouble?"

"Only if she committed a crime."

..

"Why did we catch this one?" Ryan groused from the passenger's seat as Esposito pulled into a Midtown parking place.

"Because we were closer than Beckett and Castle," Esposito reminded him, giving his partner a mildly annoyed look. "Let's get this done. We can grab a bite on our way to the precinct."

"As long as we don't have to share-"

"I'm sure Beckett and Castle will stop on their own. They've got to go talk to Benedict's new girlfriend."

"Right." Ryan sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, I just-- We should have followed up on this earlier. I missed the boat."

"I was there too, remember? We both missed the boat, if a boat was missed. Becket backed us up, and she was right. Seigel did make a better suspect with the information we had."

"Yeah, but if Castle was right-"

"Then he was right. He isn't always. And he may be wrong. We don't know, not until we talk to Ms. Delserone." He clapped Ryan on the back, guiding him to the door of Benedict's building.

Their victim's office was on the fourth floor, blending in with the surroundings so well the only way one could tell it wasn't a typical business office was the sign proclaiming it to be "Benedict's Catering". Inside, a woman in her mid-to-late thirties looked up when they entered.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, we're not taking any new reservations, due to-" She paused, sniffing and wiping her eyes. "-I'm sorry, but due to-"

"Ma'am," Esposito interrupted her, holding up his badge, "we're with the police. We already know about Mr. Benedict's death. That's why we're here; we'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Me?" She looked startled, glancing between them. "I'll gladly do what I can to help, but I'm afraid I don't know anything about what happened, I wasn't even at the event."

"We know, ma'am, we have some questions about something else."

"Okay," she said, her voice shaky.

"You introduced Mr. Benedict to a friend of yours, a 'Sara R-something'?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, yes. Serafina Rey, but she goes by Sara. She's a singer - classical and opera, not some pop musician. They-" She bit her lower lip, looking from Ryan to Esposito and back again. "-they were seeing each other for a while, but it ended about a month ago."

"Do you know what happened?"

"She caught him blipping someone else."

"She what?" Ryan asked.

"Blipping?" Esposito raised his eyebrows in question. If that was a euphemism for cheating, it was one he hadn't heard.

"It's a social networking thing. Like Twitter, but with music. You know?"

They both looked at her blankly.

"Okay, it's like this. You're a 'DJ'," she explained, making air quotes, "and you can have favorite other DJs. The thing is, if one DJ decides to start blipping - or sending songs - to someone he's cheating on his girlfriend with, and if his girlfriend has him listed as a favorite DJ, she's going to see it on her favorite DJs page. Every single last song and message. And she's probably going to check out the other person's user name and figure out her boyfriend is blipping someone who isn't even half his age."

"So she broke up with him?"

"What would you do if you found your boyfriend - well girlfriend in your cases, though I guess partner is the politically correct term - blipping 'Sexyback' and 'Promiscuous' to someone else?"

Esposito glanced at Ryan, trying very hard not to smile as he caught the other detective's eye. "I think it's understandable why Ms. Rey decided to break off the relationship. Did she say anything to you about Mr. Benedict after that?"

"Just that she was worried about his new girlfriend. The girl was living on the West Coast, oh, in Portland or Seattle or something like that, when they started blipping. She ended up moving out here and in with him. Of all things."

"She was worried because the new girlfriend moved out here?" Ryan asked. He frowned, considering the implications of jealousy or anger running that deep.

Drea looked away before answering, "He didn't like our friendship. Even though I'm the one who introduced her to him, he didn't think it was appropriate for her to be best friends with one of his employees. Or that was his excuse. Really, though, he didn't like any of her friends. He did his best to cut her off from them, but we saw through him and what he was doing. We made sure she knew we'd always be there for her, even if he was an ass to us. This new girl, she wasn't going to have the support net, friends like us she could to turn to when things went bad. She wouldn't have any friends out here when she first moved, and he didn't like her hanging out with people she met at work or trying to meet new friends. She didn't even have family out here. She's totally cut off, and that worried Sara."

"Did Ms. Rey have reason to believe that he'd hurt his new girlfriend? Had he hurt her in the past?"

"Physically? No. Emotionally, the list goes on. But he was uncanny about it, he'd make it seem like it wasn't an insult or he was just trying to help her when he was actually pulling her down. He-" She took a deep breath. "-Mr. Benedict was a very unhappy man at times. And he wanted her to be unhappy with him."

Esposito nodded. "Did she say anything to you about the party the other night?"

"She- she asked what I thought he'd do if she showed up. I asked what she meant, and she said she had a ticket. He'd given it to her before they broke up," Drea said as she wrung her hands. "I reminded her what a basket case he is at events like that - she'd been to a few - and said that he'd probably flip out. Especially because I knew that he'd gotten an invitation for the new girl. He wasn't going to be happy if she showed up."

"How unhappy would he have been?" Esposito asked. "Unhappy enough to try to hurt her?"

"Mr. B? No he- You don't think that's what happened, do you?"

"Do you know where we can find Ms. Rey?"

"She'll be in rehearsals right now. But really, she couldn't- he couldn't-"

"Ms. Delserone, if Mr. Benedict was angry enough at Ms. Rey's appearance at the party he tried to hurt her, then his death would likely be self-defense. She wouldn't be in trouble. We just need to talk to her about what happened."

"Okay." she nodded slowly. "Like I said, she'll be in rehearsals right now. I, um, I can give you an address."

"That would be very helpful."

"You're certain she won't be in trouble?"

Ryan peered at her. "Did she tell you what happened the other night?"

"No, that's the thing. She'd tell me if something happened with him, if only to warn me, but if-"

"If he's dead, you wouldn't need any warning," Esposito finished for her. She nodded bleakly. "Thank you for your assistance, ma'am."

She sat heavily in her chair and started to cry softly. "I hope you're wrong. I really do."

Neither Esposito nor Ryan answered as they let themselves out.

"So, partner," Esposito teased, smirking at Ryan when they got back to the car, trying to lighten the mood, "do I need to start worrying about you 'blipping' suggestive songs to someone half your age?"

"Nah, teenagers aren't my thing."

..

"According to Saundra, the victim's new girlfriend-" Beckett pulled out a sheet of paper, looking for a name. "-Ashley Morris works at a clothing store named Invidia. Apparently it caters to a younger demographic-"

"Slutty McSlash-and-Save," Castle interrupted, pointing at a storefront down the street.

"What?"

"That would be its unofficial name. There are very few stores on the list of places where I won't allow Alexis to shop, but that is one of them."

"But Slutty McSlash-and-Save?"

"You'll see."

And she did when they entered the shop. She hadn't seen so many bare midriffs or belly-button-revealing necklines since fashion week. Everyone working in the store was in their mid-twenties or younger, and the customers all looked to be teens or, in a few cases, pre-teens. "People actually let their children wear this?" she asked Castle softly as they passed what looked like a dress. Or so she hoped, since the hem extended maybe six inches below the plunging v-neck.

"People might. I don't. Thankfully, Alexis agrees."

"Are you sure you're one of her parents?" Beckett teased with an easy grin.

Castle chuckled, shaking his head. "Some days I wonder. Then I think of Meredith, and it becomes obvious that I am the more responsible one."

A young woman approached before Beckett could reply. "Can I help you?" she asked cheerfully.

"We're looking for Ashley Morris," Beckett said, showing her badge. "Is she here?"

"She's, um, back in the stockroom," the woman said softly as she gestured to a doorway marked "employees only". "She's a bit upset about, well, I'm sure you know what happened since you're the police."

"Which is what we'd like to talk to her about. We're hoping that she has some information that can help us," Beckett explained. She motioned to the door. "We can go back?"

The woman looked surprised, but nodded. "Of course. Let me unlock it for you."

The back room appeared empty from the doorway, but the sound of rustling tissue paper could be heard behind a partition. Rounding the corner, they could both see a blond woman kneeling over a box. She would pull garments out - it looked like blouses (or at least Beckett though they were; if not, they were very short dresses) - and put them on a hanger to hang them on an overhead rod. Nearby a steamer was on, the occasional thin stream of steam slowly rising from the nozzle. "Ashley Morris?" Beckett asked, holding her badge out once again when she turned to them, a shirt in her hands. "I'm Detective Beckett. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"More questions?" she asked, her eyes wide. "I told the police officers everything I knew the other night."

"These are some different questions."

"Oh, I guess." Ashley nodded and stepped forward, into better light, after hanging the shirt she wore. She looked much younger than Beckett expected, even knowing the woman was in her early twenties. If she hadn't known better, she would have guessed late teens. Her eyes and nose were red, and she dabbed at the corner of her eye with a Kleenex as she joined them. "I don't know if there is anything else I can answer, but if it can help find who killed Miles, I'll do my best."

"Did Mr. Benedict ever mention a Sara Rey?"

"No, not that I can think of - he's never said anything about someone with that name to me in the time we've been together."

"In the few weeks you've been together?" Castle asked.

"Oh, no. We've been together longer than that. I may have only moved out here three weeks ago, but Miles and I were dating for almost six months before that."

"Dating?" Beckett could feel her eyebrows rising nearly to her hairline as she asked. "You've been dating for six months?"

"Online dating is real dating," Ashley said in a very frustrated tone. Beckett was certain she'd had this discussion before.

"Of course," Castle said soothingly. "Of course it's real dating, and it's obvious you cared for Miles very much - you moved all the way out here, away from your family, to be with him."

"It was his idea," she said, giving them a sad smile. "Miles wanted me close by so we could spend more time together, not just the occasional vacation. He helped me get this job, even though he didn't want me to work. He said that I wouldn't have to, that he'd take care of everything. But I told him I'd need something to do during the day, and I love clothes, I love fashion. It's the perfect job for me."

"And you and Miles have been dating for six months?"

"And he never mentioned a Sara Rey during that time. Why?"

Beckett glanced at Castle, who shook his head. Turning back to Ashley, she explained, "Sara Rey is Mr. Benedict's ex-girlfriend. She broke up with him a month ago when she realized he was cheating on her with someone else."

"What? Who? No." She shook her head, stepping away from them. "That's not possible. He told me he hadn't been with anyone for a long time, several years. She wasn't dating him - he was dating me. He loved me, he'd never do anything like that."

"Miss Morris, several different people have told us about their relationship. I'm sorry, but it's true," Beckett said, stepping forward to try to console her. But Ashley stepped away, holding her hands up in front of herself. "You're certain he never mentioned her?"

"Yes, never."

"What about the other night, at the party? Did he see anyone who made him upset?"

"Just the other caterer guy," Ashley said between quick, gasping breaths. She had begun crying again, and Beckett had the distinct feeling this young woman's world was in the process of falling apart.

"Nothing about a woman?" Castle asked as he stepped past Beckett, reaching forward and grabbing Ashley's hands.

"No." She shook her head, her blond hair fluttering around her face. "Nothing."

"Very good," he said, patting her hand. "You've been a lot of help for us."

"What am I going to do?" she asked, sniffling. "I-I came out here for him, and now he's gone, and maybe he wasn't ever there for me to begin with, and..."

"You're going to be strong, Ashley, I know you are." Castle reached over and took her hands in his, squeezing them as he continued, "You moved all the way out here, all the way across the country. That's how strong you are. And you're going to go back to school, finish that degree you started, okay? And you're going to get past this. I know you can."

She nodded, quickly wiping her eyes. "Th-thank you."

"You're going to do just fine," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "And you have Detective Beckett's card, right? You call that number if you ever need anything. We're here to help you out."

Ashley's colleague was hovering just outside the stockroom door when they left. "Is she?"

"She's going through a rough time," Castle said gently. "I think she could use all the friends she can get."

The clerk nodded before opening the door. They could hear her calling Ashley's name as they returned to the shop entrance.

Castle sighed as soon as they were outside. "Remind me, when it comes time for my mid-life crisis, to get me one of those."

"One of what? You mean Ashley?" Beckett turned and glared at him.

"Uh-huh," he nodded. "Young, beautiful, easily manipulated. Considering what we've learned about Benedict's private life, I'll wager meeting her was a dream come true for him."

"How'd you know about her dropping out of school?" Beckett asked, turning back down the sidewalk.

"Ooh, did I impress you?" He held his hands up in surrender when she rolled her eyes. "It was easy: Benedict wouldn't want her to be too independent, able to strike out on her own. Without a degree, she's stuck working as a clerk for minimum wage. He probably talked her into dropping out."

"And you knew she was even pursuing a degree because?"

"He was a smart guy. He isn't going to be interested in some dumb blonde, even if she is hot. There has to be some substance there, something to hook him, for him to be attracted to. She's probably smarter than you give her credit for but bored with her classes, bored with her classmates and instructors. So when this glamorous guy from New York falls for her, begs her to quit school and move in with him, promises to take care of her and her every need, of course she's going to take the opportunity."

"No wonder Sara Rey was worried about her."

"The question is, was she worried enough to kill?"

..

Sara Rey was a striking woman. She was older than Beckett, but she hardly looked it, and she was far calmer than Castle expected. She looked over some papers she had taken from her bag, musical scores from what it looked like, as she waited for someone to join her in the interrogation room.

"That's just... uncanny," Ryan said to Castle's left, watching her through the window. "It's like she doesn't even care that she's about to be questioned about her ex-lover's murder."

"She's a professional performer," Castle said. "It's her job to stand in front of huge, sold-out crowds and remain completely calm. Or at least appear to. She might look cool, calm, and collected on the outside, but I bet she's actually scared to death."

The sound of the door opening caught everyone's attention as Beckett joined Sara in the interrogation room. "My apologies for the delay, Ms. Rey," she said as she took a seat. "Thank you for agreeing to come down and answer a few questions."

"I wasn't aware I had much choice," Ms. Rey said coolly.

"Snap!" Castle joked, grinning and elbowing Montgomery. He liked her - she had spunk to go along with that cool exterior.

"You could have declined an interview, Ms. Rey."

"But you would have just gotten a warrant or subpoenaed me or whatever it is you cops do. So it's just easier for everyone if I come down and answer your questions to the best of my ability."

"What is your relationship with Miles Benedict?"

"There isn't one, anymore. I broke it off five weeks ago when I discovered he was cheating on me."

"How did you feel about that?"

"About finding out my lover was carrying on with a woman half his age?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in question. "I was rightfully angry. But not angry enough to kill him."

"But you were angry enough to use the ticket he gave you to the retirement party he was catering," Beckett pointed out, nonchalantly flipping through the file in front of her.

Ms. Rey tossed her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "I was invited to that party. There was nothing illegal about attending it."

"But there is something questionable about attending a party catered by your ex-boyfriend. Unless a close friend of yours happened to mention that he had decided to bring his new girlfriend to it," Beckett said, leaning in. "Tell me, were you planning to show him up or show her up?"

"Neither." She sighed, looking away when Beckett tipped her head to the side. Castle was willing to bet she'd given Ms. Rey the same skeptical look she always gave him. "Okay, so maybe I wanted him to see what he was missing. But I wanted to see her, talk to her, warn her about the type of man she'd gotten herself involved with."

"Warn her? Or warn her off?"

"Warn her," Rey said, turning back to Beckett. "I'm forty-two years old, detective. When I met Miles I had finally reached the point of being interested in dating again, after having dealt with a partner who - well, let's just say it was not an amicable break up. Needless to say, I'm not interested in dealing with players like Miles turned out to be. I'm not interested in the dating game. I don't have time for that--" She took a deep breath, folding her hands on the table. "No one warned me. Drea had only just started working for him, so she didn't know, and no one else thought to say anything. Not until after I broke up with him - then the choruses of how they all knew how horrible he was began. I didn't want that to happen to her. I wanted her to know the truth about him."

"So you went to the party to talk to her and warn her that he had cheated on you."

"And that he has an incredible amount of self-loathing and does everything he can to pull you down with him. That he'll do his best to cut you off from all of your friends. That he sees you as nothing more than arm candy, that he wants someone either beautiful or famous to be with, and you'll be tossed aside if you aren't enough of either. That he wants someone who is successful, but you can't be better or more successful than him. That... the list goes on." She shrugged as she finished.

"What happened when you got there?"

"I realized what it would look like, that kind of talk coming from his ex. I--" She let out a shaky breath. "--I remembered what he was like. How manipulative he was. How he would twist what I said to her. How he would react if he saw me. I-I couldn't do that. I couldn't face him. I spent nearly half an hour outside the building doing my best to not hyperventilate. I, um, talked with the security guard for a while, he might remember me."

"He did."

"Oh," Ms. Rey said. She looked down at her hands, taking another deep breath before she continued. "And then I walked home. I chickened out. I couldn't face him, I couldn't see him. So I took off my shoes and started walking. Completely ruined my hose in the process. But it gave me time to think and come up with a new plan."

"A new plan?" Beckett asked her.

"I figured that Drea would know where she worked, or where I could find her when Miles wasn't around, or if she didn't she could find out. I was going to ask her and go and see the girl sometime on her own, when Miles couldn't interfere. Sometime where we could sit and talk about the things he would do when we were dating. I'm pretty sure he had to have been doing some of those things to her; I know he started asking where I was almost constantly soon after we started dating. I thought that if I could explain my experiences with him in a way that she could see how he had started doing that to her, she'd understand. And it wouldn't matter what he said, because her eyes would have been opened."

"What time did you start walking home?"

Ms. Rey shook her head. "I don't know. I wasn't wearing a watch, and the whole reason I ended up walking was because I'd left my cell phone at home on accident. I couldn't call a cab."

"Do you remember what route you took?"

"You mean street names?" Ms. Rey asked, her eyes wide. "Um, not really. I could maybe draw a map or something, but I didn't bother with street names. Just set off in the right direction until I reached an area I recognized." There must have been some sort of look on Beckett's face, possibly similar to the look of horror Castle knew was on his, at that remark, because she quickly added, "I mostly stuck to the route the taxi took over. It was well lit, and there were other people about. I even saw a police car or two giving people tickets! It wasn't completely unsafe."

"She has to be telling the truth," Ryan said, his eyes wide. "No one would actually lie about that. Especially for an alibi."

"But if she is telling the truth, we have no way of proving it," Esposito pointed out. "While the guard didn't see her enter the party, he didn't see her leave, either. And how are we going to prove that she was walking? It's not like she had any witnesses we can ask."

"Technically," Castle said," she had a whole street full. She just doesn't know any of them for us to ask about it."

"Maybe not," Montgomery said. "But we have other ways of finding out. Get that map of hers, let's see where she went."

..

"Okay, we know that the security guard saw Rey at the party before leaving to help with something," Castle said as he leaned against Beckett's desk. Frustration was written across his face as he looked over the white board. "She says she left not long after that, but we have no way of proving that she did. I hate to say it--" He really did, he'd rather liked her. "--but maybe she did do it?"

"We don't have anything that proves that she did," Beckett reminded him, looking up from a report.

"We also don't have anything that proves she didn't."

"True, but until we have something definite either way, we can't move forward with her as a suspect or take her off the table."

"So, we need something to prove or disprove that she walked home when she says she did. But what?" Picking up the rough map she'd drawn, Castle studied it closely. "Do any of these shops she went past have security cameras?"

"None that were pointing to the street," Beckett said, pushing as pile of folders to him with a sigh. "Here, why don't you take a look and see if you can come up with anything."

"No need," Ryan interrupted as he and Esposito joined them. They both looked, Castle noted, extremely pleased with themselves. "Ms. Rey was telling the truth; she was walking home at the time of the murder. Considering she was ten blocks away when it happened, I think we can take her off the suspect list."

"You have proof she wasn't there?" Beckett asked, an impressed look crossing her face. "Because we haven't found anything."

"Not even a working security camera," Castle added.

"You were just looking in the wrong place," Esposito said with a smirk. He connected a flash drive to Beckett's computer, opening a file on it. "What did Rey mention? That she even saw a police car or two giving people tickets."

A video file opened, showing a police officer in what was evidently footage from a dashboard camera. He was standing next to the driver's side door of a stopped car, writing what appeared to be a ticket. The sidewalk could also be seen to the stopped car's right, people walking past, some stopping and looking in shop windows and others looking at the car getting that had been stopped.

Castle was about to say something when Esposito pointed at the screen. "And right there."

A woman with dark hair, wearing a red dress walked past, her head down and strappy heels in hand. She briefly looked up, almost making eye contact with the camera.

"How did you-?"

"You said you were going to look at security cameras, so we decided to go a different angle," Ryan said. He was grinning madly. "She'd mentioned that bit about tickets, so we decided to see if there were any records of tickets given along the route she said she took. There were three different stops along her path that night, and two of the cars used had dashboard cameras. This one managed to corroborate her story."

"Had she left five minutes sooner or five minutes later, it'd probably be a different story," Esposito added.

"Great," Castle said, looking back at the computer screen. "So she didn't do it."

"And we're back to square one." Beckett sighed as she stood and walked back to the white board. She took down Sara Rey's picture as she continued, "Okay, what do we know?"

"Miles Benedict had a penchant for young, sexy, and/or famous women. He also tended to toss them aside when they no longer suited his purpose. And he had no compunctions about cheating on them," Castle said, tapping on the picture of the victim. "It's pretty obvious that the current girlfriend wasn't involved: she was definitely taken by surprise when told he had been cheating. Maybe there are more angry ex-girlfriends in his past?"

"His business was also on the rocks. We know he turned down at least one potential investor, and theirs wasn't exactly an amicable relationship." Esposito pointed out Seigel's picture. "There may have been other failed partnerships that we haven't picked up on yet."

"Okay, start tracking down his business information. Talk to his office manager, find out if there were any other investors interested in the business or other such sharks circling. If Seigel knew about Benedict's money troubles, it's almost certain that someone else did," Beckett told him. Then she turned to Ryan. "Start on the ex-girlfriend angle. Talk to his neighbors, friends, anyone who may have known about his dating habits. Find out if there were any fights, bad break-ups, anything that could lead us to a suspect. I'll start going over his employees. Maybe there's someone with a grudge that we missed."

"Sure thing," he said, elbowing Esposito out of the way to his desk. "We're on it."

"And me?" Castle asked expectantly.

"Castle, it's late," she answered, giving him a tired smile. "Go home to your family."

..

Alexis was in her pajamas when he got home, sitting at the counter and working on her homework. She looked up when he opened the door, yawning as she waved at him.

"Working late tonight?" he asked, ruffling her hair as he walked past her into the kitchen.

She grinned at him, batting his hand away. "I should be asking you that," she said instead of answering. "How's the case going?"

"Badly," he said. He opened the fridge, pushing things out of the way before pulling out a box of leftover noodles and a bottle of beer. The leftovers went into the microwave as he continued, "Our latest suspect - his ex-girlfriend who caught him cheating - her alibi worked out. Which was good for her, but we're back to nothing."

"And you believed the alibi?"

"Hard to argue with a video camera mounted in a police car."

"Good point," Alexis said. She frowned, closing her notebook and looking over at him. "But if she didn't do it and the other caterer didn't, then who did?"

"That's the question, sweetie," he said, hopping onto a stool next to her and pushing the bowl and another fork over. "Who else hated Benedict enough to kill him?"

"It had to have been someone who was at the party," Alexis said, twirling her fork in the noodles as she spoke. "Right? How else would that person have gotten to him?"

"Yeah, but most of the people at the party hadn't ever heard of him," Castle explained. "The only person there who may have had some sort of motive, the other caterer's girlfriend, was 'otherwise occupied'--" He made air quotes as he spoke. "--at the time of the murder."

"Otherwise occupied?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. She shook her head when he grinned. "Never mind, don't tell me. So, who else had access to the building? His staff?"

"They seemed to like him, even if they did know about his lesser qualities. At least they seemed to think he was good to work for. Beckett's double-checking to see if there are any crackpots that were missed, but it seems unlikely. Those detectives are good, they aren't going to miss something like that."

"You mean that you wouldn't miss something like that." Alexis pointed out, grinning at him.

He chuckled, looping an arm over her shoulder. "That, too."

"Someone had to, because otherwise your victim would still be alive."

"Yeah," he said soberly. "We missed something. And someone. Someone hated Benedict enough to kill him."

..

Beckett flipped the file she'd been reading shut. It didn't have anything that they could use. Nothing that they had missed earlier, the first time they had gone over it. Not that she had expected anything, but she would have taken it if there had been.

Pulling the next file over, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand descended on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Captain Montgomery behind her.

"Oh, hi, sir. You startled me."

"I see you sent everyone else home."

"I figured they could use the break, get some rest before we start up again in the morning."

"They aren't the only ones." He gave her a pointed look as he spoke.

"Well, I-"

"Beckett, go home."

She glanced at the file she was about to start on, then back at him, pushing the file away. "I was just about to, sir."

"Good, I'll walk you out."

She had a feeling, from the look on his face, that he wasn't going to let her get out of this. "Great, I'll just get my coat."

..

It was early, enough so that it sunrise had barely begun, when Beckett returned to the precinct. It had been a short rest, but she'd slept well and awoken refreshed, ready to get back to the case with a fresh set of eyes.

The precinct was still waking up, a few desks filled, but most were empty when she entered. She eyed her desk, looking over the mountain of files and papers the case had generated so far. The answer was in there somewhere, she just needed to figure out where. Tossing her jacket over the back of her chair, she stretched before grabbing her coffee mug. If she was going to face this case, it was going to be with the proper amount of caffeine.

As she returned to her desk - one skim, sugar-free vanilla latte in hand - their white board for the case caught her eye. It was covered with notes, diagrams, and photos; all of the details surrounding the case. It was also a dead end.

She motioned to a couple of uniformed officers as they passed. "Hey, do me a favor? Go get an extra white board out of the storage room for me, would you?"

The older one nodded, the two of them leaving her to sort through the pile on her desk. She'd made several stacks of folders by the time they returned, situating the new board next to the old.

"Thanks guys," she said even as she began on the new board. Taping a picture of their victim in the center top, she stepped back, looking at the old board and then the new. Fresh slate, that was what they needed. Grabbing the top folder on her stack, she started anew.

She was staring at the boards when Esposito got in, studying them with such intensity that she didn't even notice he was there until he took a seat next to her. "We've got to start again, from the beginning," she said, keeping her eyes on the board.

"We can start with our notes," he said, nodding at Ryan as he joined them.

"Not just there. Go back to the people. Talk to everyone at the party, talk to his office manager again. Find out if there's anything else, anything they're remembering now or anything that may have been overlooked at the time. Nothing's too small at this point."

"Got it," Ryan said, grabbing a handful of files. "We're on it."

She nodded, waving at them over her shoulder as she turned her attention back to the boards. Something wasn't quite right, there but just out of reach. Turning back to the file they'd pulled together on Benedict, she started rereading.

..

"Good morning, lady and gentleman," Martha said cheerily as she joined Castle and Alexis in the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

"Oatmeal," Castle said wearily. "She's insisting on it."

"I'm just suggesting you give your cholesterol a break," Alexis said, stirring a bowl she'd taken from the fridge. "You don't need bacon and eggs every day."

"Oh, is this that kind you've been making overnight?" Martha asked, peering over Alexis' shoulder. "You should listen to her, Richard. It's very good."

"You've tried it?" he asked.

"I may have helped myself on occasion, when I was getting in late," she said, shrugging and grabbing some fruit from the bowl on the counter. "I'll help chop."

Castle watched as the two of them cut up a banana and an apple, adding the fruit to the bowl. Once everything was prepared to Alexis' content, the mixture was divided between three bowls.

"Isn't this nice," Martha said as they sat around the table. She and Alexis were ignoring the way he was cautiously stirring his bowl. "All sitting together for a family meal? We should do this more often."

"That would require you getting up this early more often," Castle pointed out. With her schedule at the theater, it was rare that she woke at this time.

"True," she conceded, "but we can make something work. Now eat your oatmeal."

"I'm not sure I want to," he mumbled, before taking a small spoonful. He was at least going to try it. For Alexis' sake. He tentative took a bite, brightening when it wasn't nearly as bad as he expected. Much better, actually. "This is pretty good," he said, before taking another spoonful.

"Thanks." Alexis beamed at him. "Now, about my Parent-Teacher Conference-"

He paused mid-mouthful, taking in the looks that both she and his mother were giving him. Suddenly he had a pretty good idea just why Martha was up this early. Swallowing quickly, he tried to answer. "Umm..."

"Daa-ad," Alexis said, frowning at him.

"Richard," Martha added, backing her up.

"Listen, I'll check in with your teacher and see what appointment times are left," he said, thinking fast. "But I can't make any promises, we've got nothing on this case and if we get a lead-"

"You'll let Beckett and the other detectives follow it while you meet with your daughter's teachers," Martha said resolutely with a steely look in her eye.

Castle gulped. "Of course."

"This case of yours," Martha said, changing the subject. "It can't be going that badly."

"Every potential suspect has had a confirmed alibi," he said glumly.

"This is the one with the caterer, right?" she asked. "Over on Park Avenue? Well, I'm sure they're pleased he's gone."

"They're pleased?" he asked, frowning at her.

"Well, yes. This does mean they get their church back, right?"

"Get their church back?"

"Yeah, kiddo. That's a church that he's been using. He's rented and refurbished it to use for his events. All sorts of events: fashion shows, charity dinners-"

"And events honoring retiring businessmen. 'Get their church back', I take it the locals don't like the new addition?"

"Are you kidding? It's Park Avenue. There are paparazzi on Park Avenue. They hate it."

He nodded, looking down at his bowl of oatmeal. His bowl of really good oatmeal. That, unlike bacon, wasn't exactly portable. "I gotta go-"

"Don't forget to call my teacher!"

"I'm on it!"

..

"Anything?" Beckett asked as Ryan put down his phone.

"Nope, nothing to add. She thought that, while 'Mr. B' could be a tough boss at times, he also was a good man who took care of his people. Just about the same as every other employee we've spoken to."

"There's something in his file here, about some complaints that were filed against him by an Edith Parks. Each time they were dropped, do we know what they were about?"

"Noise complaints," Esposito said, dropping into his chair with a new, pipping hot cup of coffee in his hand. "He'd cater a party, it'd get a little rowdy, and the neighbors would start calling in."

"Did you check it out?"

"I asked his office manager about it," Ryan said, flipping through his notes. "She said that Benedict would do some additional reno on the building each time, something that went above and beyond the initial contract. Trying to appease everyone so he didn't lose the contract, from the sound of it."

"That had to have been expensive. It wasn't even his place, he was just renting it."

"You talking about the building?" Castle asked, nearly out of breath as he rushed up to them. "Did you know it's a church?"

"Uh-huh," Beckett said, looking at him in askance. "You okay?"

"Wait. You knew? And you didn't tell me?"

"You didn't know?" Ryan asked with a frown.

"But it didn't-" He waved his hands about. "-it didn't have any crosses or alters or things like that."

"They get put in storage during catering events. And his people put up something that covers the etching of the church name on the building." Esposito grinned. "It's supposed to look like part of the granite. Apparently it's pretty convincing."

Castle gave him a little glare but turned back to Beckett. "Don't you get it? A church. On Park Avenue. With parties and fashion shows and paparazzi-"

"There weren't any paparazzi there that night," Ryan pointed out.

"No, but there have been. On Park Avenue."

"The neighbors have been complaining," Beckett said, picking up the file. "Maybe someone decided that his renovations of the church wasn't the right way to seek their forgiveness."

"I think it's time to talk to Edith," Ryan said.

..

Castle had to admit, he was expecting Edith Parks to be a tiny, but regal, white-haired old lady wearing a designer suit and pearls. The staid butler at the door, in his stiffly starched dark suit, glaring at them over his half-circle glasses, confirmed it.

Which was why, when he and Beckett were led into a darkly decorated sitting room where they joined a young woman in her early thirties, he asked, "Is your grandmother home?"

She glanced up at them, arching an eyebrow as she closed the folder on her lap, "My grandmother died four years ago. May I help you?"

"Edith Parks?" Beckett asked, ignoring Castle as she stepped forward and held up her badge. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course." Parks stood, stepping over to shake Beckett's hand. She was short and slender, short enough to fit Lanie's description of the killer. "This is about Benedict, isn't it?"

"How'd you guess?" Castle gave her his most disarming smile as he held his hand out. "Richard Castle."

She nodded as she shook it. "Mr. Benedict's death is the biggest new to hit Park Avenue since Gertrude Hobbs ran away with the butler. And as someone who has made multiple complaints to the police in regards to his business, it would make sense for someone to come and ask me about them."

"So, did you do it?"

Parks rolled her eyes at him, before turning back to Beckett. "As much as I appreciate that someone had rid the neighborhood of that particular blight, I would never condone going so far as to murder him or suggest that anyone else should. My preferred plan would have been more along the lines of buying out his stake in the property."

"Where were you that night?" Beckett asked.

"AirFrance flight--" She paused, opening the folder in her hands and flipped through a few papers. "--number 6. I was returning from a business trip to Paris."

"Thank you, Ms. Parks," Beckett's face was carefully blank, showing neither relief nor disappointment. "We will have to verify that with customs. In the meantime, can you think of anyone else who would want to do Mr. Benedict harm?"

"Other than the rest of the neighborhood?"

..

"Thank you, ma'am," Ryan said, giving her a tight smile as she usher them out the door. He waited until it closed and latched behind them before saying anything else as they descended the steps to the sidewalk. "Another strike out. You think we'll get anything else from the next house?"

"Probably not," Esposito said with a shrug, pausing on the sidewalk by the steps to the next townhouse, "but it beats sitting around waiting for Beckett and Castle to talk to Ms. Parks"

"You think she's our killer?"

"She had motive and, presumably considering her location, opportunity," Esposito said. "But it never hurts to have something to fall back on."

"Especially considering how this case has been going," Ryan added before starting up the steps, checking out the front of the townhouse. It was an impressive brick structure with marble trim and a security camera tucked up above the door. "We thought we had our suspect already. Several times."

Esposito nodded as he knocked on the door of the townhouse. After a short wait, the large door opened, revealing a short, middle-aged man who stared at them blearily for a moment before speaking. "May I help you?"

"I'm Detective Ryan with the NYPD, and this is Detective Esposito. We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

"Um, okay." He stared at them longer, before shaking his head. "I'm sorry. Would you like to come in?"

He ushered him into the house, down a grand hallway and into a sitting room with an overwhelmingly rich decor. He stood out in stark contrast against the couch he sat on, his stained khaki pants and faded novelty t-shirt out of place with the lush floral fabric. He nervously brushed at his pants. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company today."

Ryan waved the comment off. "No problem, Mr. --"

"Olsburg." He nodded with a tight smile. "I'm house-sitting for the Durhams while they're touring Europe. I went to school with Jon, their son."

"Of course." Ryan glanced at Esposito, who was taking notes. "How long have they been out of the country?"

"Two months," Olsburg replied. "They'll be gone for at least one more. If they don't take some extra time in Majorca. Marie want to spend some time at a spa there."

"That's quite a while for you to be house-sitting," Esposito said, looking up.

"I don't mind." Olsburg twisted his fingers together as he continued. "I'm an author, and having this kind of peace and quiet is much better for working than I'd get in the two bedroom apartment I was sharing with four other people. I'm actually able to get work done on my book here. Most of the time."

"Really?" Ryan asked, smiling broadly. "That must be great. What are you writing?"

Olsburg was like putty, immediately relaxing as he started talking about how he was working on the next literary masterpiece. Ryan couldn't understand most of what he was talking about with the references to transcendentalism and symbolism, and he had a feeling that Castle wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face listening to the guy, but the ploy had worked. Olsburg had unwound as he spoke, opening up to them.

"You said most of the time," Esposito broke in when Olsburg took a breath between his explanation of how act one of his book was going to revolutionize literature.

"Pardon?" Olsburg asked.

"You said you were able to get work done on your book, most of the time."

"Oh, that." Olsburg shrugged, waving the question off. "There have been some nights when the neighborhood has been noisier than usual. It was bad enough that the Durhams went to Europe. Don't tell the neighbors, but Marie just wasn't able to handle the constant disturbances and at all hours. Mostly in the evening. That's when I do my best work. So the noise was a detractor, but it seems to have stopped lately."

"Since Benedict died."

Olsburg frowned, brushing off his pants again. "I don't know if it'd have anything to do with that, ah, unfortunate event."

"So, it's just a coincidence that with him dead there haven't been any more parties at the church?"

"Of course. I understood that his employees were going to try to honor his bookings, so it is a possibility he just didn't have anything scheduled for the past few days."

"That could be it," Esposito said. "But even if it is, eventually there won't be any more bookings to honor. So it'll be quiet again."

"Well, yes..."

Ryan nodded. "Where were you that night?"

"Me?" Olsburg looked at them in askance, his eyes wide with more than just surprise. "Me?"

"It's routine," Esposito said. "We have to ask everyone."

"Oh. Well, I was here. Alone, of course. I promised the Durhams that there wouldn't be any house parties." He chuckled at his own joke.

"Great." Ryan stood, holding out his hand. "Thanks for talking with us, Mr. Olsburg. You've been very helpful."

"Really? That's all? You aren't going to get all intimidating because I don't have any witnesses that I was here alone? Or threaten to take me downtown?"

"Like we said," Esposito told him, "this is just routine. We're pretty sure we already have our suspect. We just need to rule out other people."

"Oh, good. Thank you."

"We'll see ourselves out," Ryan added. "Thank you for your help."

He and his partner stayed quiet as they left the townhouse, and, instead of turning down the street to their next house, returned to their car. It wasn't until Esposito pulled away from the street that the silence was broken.

"Still think Ms. Park is our suspect?"

"Definitely not."

..

Castle and Beckett were sitting at her desk, deep in conversation when the other detectives returned, Castle gesticulating madly as he tried to convince Beckett of something.

"How'd it go with Parks?" Esposito asked, pulling up a chair.

"Badly," Beckett replied, rolling her eyes at Castle as she turned to them. "Her alibi holds up, she was definitely out of the country when it happened. Did you get anything?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Letnes were quite horrified by the turn of events, and not just the murder, however they had tickets to Wicked at the time of the murder. We've got a uni checking on it now," Ryan said, his poker face in place as he leaned back in his chair.

"Damn." Beckett pushed her hair back from her face. "That means we're back to square one. Again."

"I still say that you need to check her passport," Castle interrupted. "It's happened before in a case."

"Which means it almost positively won't happen again," Ryan pointed out.

"Unless we don't check it," Castle shot back. "Unless you have something better?"

"We just might have a potential suspect."

Beckett said up straight in her chair. "Why didn't you mention anything?"

"Someone might have gotten started about passports before we had the chance to continue." Ryan shot Castle a little glare for good measure.

Esposito rolled his eyes, cutting in. "Len Olsburg, who is house-sitting for the Durhams. They're currently in Majorca-"

"They had to leave because of all the commotion," Ryan interrupted his partner.

"Regardless, Len is a mite upset over the commotions himself. He's an author, you see, and he does his best work in the evening."

"When the parties are held-- Ow!" Ryan rubbed his arm where Esposito had flicked him.

"As I was saying, he finds the parties to be disturbing his peace, and now they're gone."

"And?" Beckett asked expectantly.

"And what?"

"You don't have anything more?" Castle asked, frowning at them. "Such as a confession, it'd be really handy right about now."

"Well—"

"A guy who doesn't like the parties isn't a suspect," Beckett sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Parks didn't like the parties and she was a suspect," Ryan pointed out. "Technically every person in the neighborhood who didn't like the parties is a suspect. We just happened to have found the right one."

"So you think. Don't you have anything else?"

"He was-" Esposito paused, obviously trying to put it in the right words. "He was shifty. Like he was trying to cover something up. He talked about how having the house to himself was so great for his writing, but refused to actually put into words that it was the parties and the caterer who was causing the noise until we brought it up."

"And you didn't have to listen to him talking about his book," Ryan added. "It's all about him, how his book will be a game-changer, about how he needs peace and quiet to work, things like that."

"Okay, say he does have potential," Beckett said. "We're going to need more than 'he didn't like the parties' to bring him in."

"He's an author?" Esposito suggested.

"Hey," Castle shot back, "I resent that suggestion."

"He might have a point," Beckett said, pretending to muse aloud.

"Surveillance cameras," Ryan said, rolling his chair back to his desk.

"That place shares the alley with the church, so he'd go out the back door," Esposito pointed out with a frown. "Security cameras on the street wouldn't catch anything."

"Not on the street, at the back door." Ryan looked over from his computer after writing something down. "There's a security camera on the front door - it had the Burgoa Security Company name on it."

"And why put a security camera at the front door if you don't put one at the back?" Castle stood, grinning excitedly as he continued. "Do you have their number?"

"Calling them now," Ryan said, cell phone to his ear.

..

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Olsburg," Beckett said. She continued to introduce herself as she took a seat opposite him at the interview table, while Castle hung back, leaning against the one-way glass of the window separating the three of them from Esposito and Ryan.

"No-no problem," he stuttered, glancing from her back to Castle. "The other detectives said I could help you with something?"

"We're hoping so." She gave him a bright smile as she continued. "We just have a few more questions for you."

"Sure." He opened, then immediately closed his mouth. Then opened it again. "Who's he?"

"Oh, that's Mr. Castle," she said, waving her hand. "He's researching for a book he's writing and has permission to observe the NYPD. It's to help him with his book. You don't mind, do you?"

"Help another author with his book?" Olsburg straightened, glancing at Castle. He turned back to Beckett with a grin. "Not a problem. I don't mind another author learning from me. Everyone must start somewhere."

Castle carefully schooled his face at the memory of Beckett's threat if he ruined this and nodded. "Thank you." Not that there was much to learn from this rank amateur wannabe. He practically oozed smarm as he turned his smirk back to Beckett, preening at the attention. Unfortunately, or maybe not so unfortunately Castle thought, he was about to learn the truth. Beckett had his number.

"That's the truth. Thank you for your help, Mr. Olsburg. It's very generous that someone of your talent is assisting us."

Castle could only see Beckett's back, but he was pretty certain she was all but gritting her teeth. At least, she usually was when she used that overly saccharine tone with him. He was fairly certain it would be the same for Olsburg.

"Now, for our questions," she continued, flipping through a sheaf of papers. It was all a ploy, but a necessary one. They had part of the truth; it was up to Olsburg to give them the rest of it. And he was only going to do so if he continued to buy into the act. "Why don't we start again with the night of the murder? Just a quick rundown of what you were doing and where you were that day."

Olsburg sat up straighter, his brow furrowing in concern. "I thought I already told the other detectives."

"You did, we just need to ask the questions. It's procedure, not something we can just skip, unfortunately, even though you've already been through it. But I'm sure we can get through it quickly."

"Oh, of course." He sat back again in an attempt to look casual, though Castle could tell that he was still quite tense. "I was at home - well, at the Durham's. By myself, of course, working on my novel."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"Unfortunately not. The help leaves at 4:30, and I was already well ensconced in the study with my computer at that time."

"And you didn't leave the building?"

"Of course not. Like I said, I was working on my book."

Beckett nodded. Behind her, however, Castle moved back to the door, opening it to usher in two techs with a TV cart. He could feel Olsburg's eyes on them as he directed them through setting it up.

"What's that?" the suspect asked as the TV was switched on.

"Have you heard of Burgoa Security?" Beckett asked, dodging his question.

"Uh, yes. The Durham's have employed them for the security of the townhouse."

"Including surveillance cameras at the front and back doors," Castle added, giving in to temptation and giving Olsburg a jaunty grin as he pressed play. "We were able to get a copy of their tapes."

The TV screen filled with the picture of the townhouse's back door, the time-stamp showing it to be not long before Benedict's time of death. The door opened onscreen, and Olsburg came out carrying some wood and a plastic bag.

"Oh, that," he said. "The housekeeper has strict instructions to stay out of the study, so I take my own trash out from that room. That was some supplies left over from a model I made, something to help plan my novel."

"Of course," Beckett said, writing something down. Neither she nor Castle made a move to turn the TV off.

Onscreen, Olsburg could be seen tossing the bag into the trash, but he paused and turned toward the back alley before throwing away the wood. And then he walked off screen, still carrying the piece of wood he had brought outside with him.

It wasn't until sometime later that he returned, the wood piece gone and his clothing bearing a few more stains than when he left. Castle turned the video off.

Beckett turned to him. "Would you like to revise your statement?"

Olsburg shrank in his chair, giving the TV a furtive look. "Now?"

"Or we could keep watching," Beckett said solemnly. "You decide."

He swallowed, glancing at the TV. "More? You can't have more. I checked the church the day before, there were no cameras!"

"You checked the day before. But did you check when you killed Benedict?"

"I didn't need to! The chance that someone would install cameras in that short amount of time was ridiculously slim. Besides, it was imperative to get in and out as quickly as possible. In case someone missed him and came looking for him."

"Looking for him?" Castle asked, jumping on what Olsburg had given them. "You mean, after you killed him?"

"The plan was flawless," Olsburg continued, ignoring Castle's comment. "I planned for every contingency. I made sure the staff knew I was building something for planning my book, so it wouldn't seem out of place to have a piece of wood. I made sure that he was going to be at the party himself, I asked around to people who were going. And I watched, I watched his habits. I knew that he always went out to get a smoke at the same time. I knew he'd be out there then."

"And then you killed him."

"I told him to stop. Or someone would stop him. You know what he did? He laughed. He said that his company was the best thing that happened to that church, to that neighborhood. That without him it would have crumbled to the ground. That he was bringing economic development to the neighborhood. No, he was bringing the rabble into the neighborhood, thieves and beggars and people who wanted to be someone, not people who were anyone. Everyone saw through it, we all knew the truth."

"And then what happened?"

"I knew he couldn't be reasoned with. So I took care of the problem. I knew my neighbors would appreciate it."

"And accept you?" Castle asked, his head tipping to the side. "Accept you as one of them since you, yourself, fall into that last category?"

Olsburg sat up straight. "My novel is a masterpiece. It is going to revitalize the literary world. You'll see."

"Only if you can publish it from jail," Beckett said, standing. "Len Olsburg, you're under arrest for the murder of Miles Benedict." She continued to read him his Miranda rights as Castle left the small interrogation room.

Esposito and Ryan met him in the hallway. "Got him," Ryan said with a proud grin. "Celebratory drinks at McGinty's after Beckett gets him down to booking?"

"I'd love to join you," Castle said, "but I have a meeting to get to."

..

He hated school. He had when he had been a student (the number of schools he was kicked out of were proof of that) and he hated them even more now. Part of him still didn't quite understand how his daughter had turned into such a studious teenager, but somehow she had, and it was time for him to do his part. Even if it killed him. And it probably wouldn't, but he was fairly certain he could eke a good bit of drama out of it. For a while.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the classroom door open, ducking his head inside. A dark-haired woman looked up, probably around his age, he decided as she stood and waved him in. If he'd known Alexis' teachers were this good-looking, he would have come to a Parent-Teacher Conference sooner. Much sooner.

"Mr. Castle?" she asked as she extended her hand. "I'm Ms. Hyland. It's nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," he said. He gave her his most charming grin as they shook. "How is Alexis doing in your class?"

Ms. Hyland smiled, showing him to a chair. "She's one of my best students."

"I'd hope so. She's my best work."

COMPANION ART by FORCRYINOUTLOUD:

&

BY ENTWASHIAN:

Leave Feedback | Read All Feedback