C4: Case 1
Before Castle could open his mouth to launch into the dozen questions already lined up behind his teeth, Kate's phone buzzed on her desk.
He looked back at her.
She glanced at the screen, answered on the second ring, and listened for maybe ten seconds.
"Yeah, okay," she said. "I'm on my way."
She hung up, grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair, and started walking toward the elevator without another word.
Castle stood there for half a second, frozen in place.
His brain split cleanly down the middle.
On one side was Kate, walking fast, already mentally building a crime scene in her head. That meant fresh clues, clever deductions, danger, and the chance to be useful. Or at least charmingly annoying.
On the other side was Travis Wilson. Three years undercover in a cartel. Torture, gunshots, and sealed files. A man who walked back from hell and brought a panda clock with him. He could fill three novels and maybe get himself punched in the face if he pushed too hard.
Castle watched Kate's back as she pressed the elevator button. Then he looked back at Travis. He made the call in less than two seconds. He set his coffee down on the nearest desk—Esposito's, judging by the annoyed grunt that followed—and jogged after her.
He looked back at Travis, pointing his finger. "Drinks are on me tonight." He turned toward the elevator as it arrived. "Wait up, Beckett! You can't just walk out on me like that. I have a quota of dramatic entrances to maintain."
Kate didn't slow down, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "It's a body in Central Park, Castle. Not a red-carpet event."
"Exactly. Bodies need narration. I'm basically essential personnel."
They walked in, Kate pressed the button, and the door closed.
Travis watched the whole thing unfold without moving from his chair.
He had seen this scene play out on a screen once, years ago in another life. Castle trailing after Beckett like an over-caffeinated puppy, Beckett pretending she didn't secretly enjoy the chaos he brought. Except now they were real, breathing, walking right past him, and the familiarity of it hit harder than he expected.
He glanced at the panda clock. The little blue eyes blinked once.
'Figures,' he thought. 'First day and the main event already left without me.'
Across the bullpen, Ryan caught his eye and gave a small shrug, the kind that said welcome to the circus.
Travis nodded back, then turned to the computer screen in front of him. The login page stared back, cursor blinking patiently. He typed his credentials, waited for the system to load, and opened the case-management portal. Desk duty or not, he wasn't planning to sit idle.
...
A few hours later, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
Kate stepped out first. Castle followed two steps behind, already talking even though no one had asked him anything yet.
"...and the fact that the victim was found face-down in the duck pond means the killer either wanted the body hidden in plain sight or they really hate ducks. I'm leaning toward symbolic revenge. Ducks can be surprisingly vindictive."
Kate didn't answer. She walked straight to the case board in the middle of the bullpen and started taping up the first photo: a crime-scene shot of a man lying half-submerged among reeds and lily pads, water lapping at his open mouth. The body looked peaceful except for the dark bruise blooming across the side of his neck.
Ryan and Esposito walked over. Travis stayed at his desk for another few seconds, then pushed back his chair and joined them. He didn't say anything. He just stood at the edge of the group and looked at the board.
Kate taped up the victim's driver's license photo next. Clean-cut, forty years old, brown hair starting to thin at the crown, eyes that looked tired even in the DMV picture.
"So, who's our vic?" Ryan asked.
"Meet Daniel Hargrove," Kate said. "Forty years old. Financial consultant. Found at seven forty-five this morning by a jogger. No wallet, no phone, no keys. ME says the time of death is between midnight and four a.m. Body's already on its way to autopsy."
Esposito crossed his arms and studied the photo. "Cause?"
"Preliminary strangulation. Ligature marks on the neck. No defensive wounds on the hands or arms. Looks like he didn't fight back much."
"Drugged?" Ryan asked.
"Possible. Tox screen's pending."
Castle leaned in closer to the board, squinting at the close-up of the bruise. "The pattern's uneven. Almost like someone used a belt or a strap instead of bare hands. But look at the width here and here." He pointed. "It's too wide for most belts. Could be a camera strap. Or a dog leash. Or maybe a really enthusiastic necktie. Financial consultants love power ties. Maybe he was strangled with his own success."
Kate gave him a flat look. "We're not calling it 'strangled by capitalism' until we have evidence."
Castle raised both hands. "I'm just saying the murder weapon might be sitting in his closet next to six identical blue suits."
Esposito snorted. Kate ignored both of them and kept going.
"Espo, I need you to pull Hargrove's bank and credit-card statements. Last twenty-four hours especially. Look for any large cash withdrawals, unusual purchases, or anything that might show where he was right before he died. If he bought dinner, drinks, gas, anything, it'll help pin his last known location."
"On it," Esposito said. He headed toward his desk, already pulling out his phone to call the fraud unit liaison.
Kate turned to Ryan. "Ryan, track down the ex-wife. Her name's Lauren Hargrove. They divorced two years ago but still share a teenage daughter. She lives in Brooklyn. See if she knows why he might have been in Central Park at night, who he was meeting, if he was scared of anyone lately. And ask about enemies. He worked high-net-worth clients. That kind of money attracts grudges."
Ryan nodded and grabbed his jacket. "Alright."
Kate stepped back from the board and rubbed the back of her neck. For the first time since she walked in she seemed to notice Travis standing there quietly.
She studied him for a second. "You want in on this?"
"Already finished filing the papers, and I got free time in my hands. So, if you want an extra pair of eyes..."
Castle perked up like a dog hearing a treat bag open. "Oh, this is good. The mysterious cartel ghost wants to play. Tell me, Detective Wilson, in your expert opinion, what kind of person strangles a mild-mannered money manager and dumps him in a duck pond?"
Travis glanced at the photo again. "Someone who didn't plan it very well. No defensive wounds means Hargrove probably trusted whoever got close enough to wrap something around his neck. That points to someone he knew. The pond itself is sloppy. Central Park at night isn't exactly as deserted as one might think. Killer either panicked or didn't care if the body was found fast. My guess? Personal, not professional. If it was a hit, they would've made sure he disappeared for good."
Castle's grin widened. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Straight to the point. No poetry. I like it."
Kate shot Castle a warning glance, then looked back at Travis.
Esposito called from his desk. "Beckett. Hargrove's last transaction was a hundred-and-twenty-dollar bar tab at The Rusty Anchor on Columbus Avenue. Timestamped eleven seventeen last night. Paid cash, but the card was swiped first then declined. Bartender probably made him pay up front after that."
Kate nodded. "So he was drinking. Alone or with someone?"
"Credit-card statements won't tell us that," Esposito said. "I'll call the bar, see if they've got security footage."
"Do it," Kate said.
Espo nodded before walking to his desk. He took out his phone and made the call.
She turned back to the board and taped up a map of Central Park with a red X marking the duck pond. "He was at a bar on the Upper West Side at eleven, found dead five miles away. That's a long walk for a drunk guy. Someone drove him. Or dragged him."
Castle tapped his chin. "Or lured him. A late-night text. A promise. 'Meet me by the water, I need to talk or skinny dip.' Classic bait. People still fall for it."
Travis said after thinking for a bit. "Or he was already half-conscious when they moved him. Strangulation can take a while to finish. Killer could've choked him partway at the bar or in a car, then finished the job at the pond to stage it like a mugging gone wrong."
Kate looked at him again, longer this time. "You think the bar's the kill site?"
"Worth checking before we chase ghosts through the park."
She gave a small nod. "Agreed."
...
A few minutes later, Esposito walked back over from his desk, phone still in hand, looking mildly annoyed.
"Cameras at The Rusty Anchor are down," he said, stopping next to Kate. "Guy on the phone said they've been out since last week. Scheduled maintenance. New system install, supposed to be finished tomorrow."
Travis, still standing at the edge of the group, raised an eyebrow. He didn't say anything right away, but the look on his face made it clear what he thought: too convenient. Way too convenient.
Kate pressed her lips together for a second, then exhaled through her nose. "Of course they are."
"Maintenance, my ass," Esposito muttered. "I'll get a warrant rolling anyway. If the system were down, maybe the manager kept the old footage somewhere. Maybe we'll find something."
"Do that," Kate said. "In the meantime, I'm heading to the bar. See who remembers Hargrove. If they cooperate, alright. If not, we'll use the warrant."
Castle, who had been unusually quiet for the last thirty seconds, suddenly snapped his fingers like he'd just remembered something important. His phone was already vibrating in his pocket.
He glanced at the screen, winced theatrically, and answered.
"Hey, Gina," he said, putting on the voice he used when he was trying to sound like a responsible adult. "Yes, I know what time it is. No, I'm not avoiding you. I'm actually working. Yes, I'm aware the manuscript is due. No, I haven't forgotten about the advance. I already sent the money back, remember? Wire transfer. Tuesday. You probably spent it on shoes already."
He paused, listening, then rolled his eyes so dramatically that Ryan actually snorted.
"Look, Gina, I'm in the middle of something. A body in a duck pond. It's poetic. I'll have pages to you soon. Very soon. Like… soon-ish. Yes. Bye."
He hung up, exhaled like a man who'd just survived a hostage negotiation, and turned to Kate.
"That was my publisher," he announced, as if no one had heard the entire conversation. "Apparently, I'm still on the hook for a book. Who knew?"
Everyone gave him that look.
"Okay, fine. Anyway, I have to go. I'll catch up with you later. Don't solve the whole thing without me. I need material."
Kate sighed as she walked toward the elevator. Castle followed behind her. He turned back and gave Travis another quick point-and-shoot finger gun from across the bullpen.
"Wilson! Don't let them have all the fun without me. I expect a full debrief over drinks tonight. I'm buying. I insist."
Travis lifted his chin in acknowledgment, the smallest possible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll hold you to it."
Castle beamed, satisfied, then turned back to Kate just as the elevator doors opened.
"See? He likes me already. We're basically best friends."
Kate stepped inside without comment. Castle followed, still talking.
"Seriously, though, a duck pond? That's gold. I'm thinking chapter title: 'Death by Mallard.' Or maybe 'Quack of Doom.' I'll workshop it."
The doors slid shut on the sound of Kate's long-suffering sigh.
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