C30: The Old Haunt
Present time... [Early morning]
Travis locked the office door behind him and stood still for a second while the ancient ceiling fan rattled lazily overhead.
He walked toward the large wooden bookcase behind Billy Pitt's old desk. Most people would never notice anything strange about it. Dust covered the shelves unevenly, and old accounting books leaned against each other like they had not moved in years.
He gripped the side carefully and pushed.
The bookcase resisted at first before shifting to the left with a deep grinding sound that echoed through the office. Dust drifted into the air immediately, while stale cold air rolled upward from the darkness hidden behind it.
"Arg! Fucking dust." Travis coughed.
He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight before stepping through the opening.
Old stone stairs disappeared downward beneath the building, narrow and uneven from age. Moisture clung to the walls while water dripped faintly somewhere deeper underground, and there were spider webs. The smell changed immediately too. Wet stone, mildew, and ancient wood trapped beneath Manhattan for generations.
The bookcase closed behind him with a heavy thud.
Travis looked back and saw the lever on the wall. He pulled it, and the door opened again. As soon as he left the lever, the door closed. "Alright." He looked forward.
Now the silence felt different.
The kind that pressed against the ears.
Travis moved carefully down the stairs while the flashlight beam bounced across rough stone walls covered in patches of black mold. The staircase curved slightly before opening into a narrow underground corridor reinforced with old brick supports darkened by time.
"Jesus," he muttered while looking around slowly. "This place looks like Batman stores bodies down here."
His footsteps echoed softly as he walked deeper underground.
"Fuck! I hate spiders," He mumbled to himself as he was forced to remove the webs.
Travis reached the end of the stairs.
A large iron door stood before him, half-covered beneath old chains and rust. The metal surface carried faded markings nearly erased by time. He brushed dirt away with one hand until the old symbol beneath became visible again.
A liquor distributor stamp from 1928.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Oh, you beautiful old bastards."
He grabbed the rusted wheel lock with both hands and pulled hard. The mechanism fought him immediately before finally giving way with a horrible screech that echoed through the underground tunnel like something waking up after a hundred years asleep.
The door slowly creaked open.
Cold air rolled out from inside.
Then Travis stepped into the hidden cellar.
Rows...
...Dozens and dozens of rows.
Dust-covered wooden crates rested inside the underground chamber beneath layers of cobwebs and age-darkened tarp covers. Old wine racks leaned against stone walls while thick glass bottles rested untouched exactly where smugglers abandoned them nearly a century earlier.
His flashlight moved slowly across labels buried beneath dirt.
Macallan.
Dalmore.
Hennessy.
Martell.
Travis let out a low whistle.
"No wonder people killed each other over this stuff."
He crouched near one crate and brushed dust away carefully until the faded lettering underneath became readable.
1875 St. Miriam Rock of Scotland
"Okay, this is slightly different from what I remembered. There was supposed to be only 1875 St. Miriam Rock of Scotland. But here... Well, what the hell? More for me," He said to himself with a large grin as he stood up and looked around once more. "That poor bastard spent years trying to make money while sitting directly on top of enough hidden alcohol to buy an island."
He opened the crate and took out a bottle of 1875 St. Miriam Rock of Scotland.
'Let's not be greedy. I need to shift everything out of here to some secure location without damaging them... Humm... Or maybe, leave them right here and fix the basement? Take one out every now and then?'
Travis looked around the place and thought, 'This place is falling apart. No, can't take the risk. But tonight, I wanna enjoy this baby.' He looked at the bottle and kissed it.
He planned to taste it alone, but Lanie's face appeared before his eyes, followed by Kate's and the new friends he had made in this new life.
"Ah, what the hell? Let's enjoy it together."
...
The bullpen looked exhausted.
The homicide case they closed that afternoon had been ugly even by New York standards. Two gruesome murders, one apartment that looked like a slaughterhouse, and enough paperwork to make Ryan question every career decision he had ever made.
By evening, everyone looked drained.
Espo sat at his desk, rotating his stiff shoulder while Lanie leaned against the edge of Beckett's desk, scrolling through messages on her phone. Castle had been unusually quiet for almost twenty minutes, which honestly worried Ryan more than the murders had.
Travis closed the final file on his desk and stood up. "Alright," he said while grabbing his jacket, "I'm officially done looking at dead people for today. Drinks are on me tonight."
Ryan looked up immediately. "You win the lottery?"
"Bought a bar."
Castle slowly lowered the folder in his hands. "You bought a bar?"
Travis nodded once.
"The Old Haunt."
Castle stared at him for a full second before laughing in disbelief. "No way."
Kate noticed the reaction immediately. "You know the place?"
"Know it?" Castle leaned back against the desk with a nostalgic grin already forming. "I practically lived there before Alexis was born. I wrote most of my first book inside that bar." He shook his head slowly. "That old place has that unique atmosphere... I wonder how that place is doing lately?"
Montgomery stepped out of his office halfway through the conversation and immediately caught the energy in the room. "Why does everybody suddenly look confused?"
"Wilson bought The Old Haunt," Kate replied.
The captain stopped walking.
"You bought that old bar?" He stared at Travis briefly before rubbing his forehead. "I honestly don't know why I'm still surprised by things you do."
"Surprises and questions aside, let's go and drink," Travis said.
...
About fifteen minutes later, they stepped inside the bar together.
The Old Haunt looked halfway between a renovation project and a crime scene. Several tables had been pushed aside. Old wallpaper had been stripped from sections of the wall, exposing cracked wood underneath. A ladder stood near the jukebox beside buckets of paint and loose wiring.
Still, the place had personality.
The old bar counter remained untouched, worn smooth by decades of cigarettes, whiskey glasses, and bad decisions. The dim yellow lights hanging overhead made the entire place feel trapped somewhere between 1978 and bankruptcy.
Castle slowed slightly while looking around the room.
"God," he muttered quietly. "This place really survived."
Kate slid onto one of the stools while looking around with growing interest. "It's rough," she admitted, "but I kind of like it."
"It has charm," Travis replied.
"It has structural concerns," Lanie corrected while glancing toward the ceiling.
"And I plan to fix it and restore this place exactly how it was back then," Travis replied.
"Oh, I love this vintage jukebox," Espo said as he looked around the place.
Ryan pointed toward the crooked pool table near the back. "I'm pretty sure that thing leans more every time I look at it."
Montgomery loosened his tie slightly before sitting down at the counter. "Please tell me you've got something strong."
Travis smirked faintly. "Actually… that's the interesting part."
He disappeared into the office for a minute before returning with the bottle.
The reaction was immediate.
Even before they saw the label clearly, the age of the glass alone made everyone quiet down. Dust clung around the neck while the amber liquid inside reflected softly beneath the old bar lights.
Castle's eyes widened.
Montgomery stood up from his stool.
"…No," the captain said under his breath.
Travis placed the bottle carefully on the counter. "Surprise."
Ryan leaned forward carefully. "Looks old."
Castle looked personally offended by reality itself. "Do you understand what you're looking at right now?"
"Expensive whiskey?" Ryan said.
Castle carefully took the bottle into both hands like somebody had just handed him a newborn child wrapped in liquid gold. The usual joking energy disappeared from his face almost instantly while he turned the dusty glass beneath the hanging bar lights.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
Even Montgomery stepped closer now, staring at the faded label with narrowed eyes before letting out a low curse under his breath.
"You can't be serious."
Castle rubbed part of the dust away carefully with his sleeve, revealing more of the old lettering underneath. His expression somehow shifted between excitement, disbelief, and emotional damage all at once.
"1875 St. Miriam... Rock of Scotland…" he muttered quietly. "This thing is practically mythology."
Ryan blinked once from his stool. "You guys are reacting like Travis found the Holy Grail."
Castle slowly looked toward him with the expression of a man witnessing cultural failure in real time. "Ryan, the last verified bottle of this sold at auction in Scotland for almost thirty thousand dollars."
The entire bar went quiet for a second.
Espo's eyes widened. "Thirty grand?"
Lanie stared at Travis now. "Please tell me you did not casually pull a thirty-thousand-dollar bottle out of your office like it was a six-pack."
Travis leaned comfortably against the counter with his arms folded loosely. "Technically, I pulled out two."
That statement physically hurt Castle a little.
"You found more than one?" He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest before carefully setting the bottle back down on the counter like he feared reality might break if he moved too fast. "Who even are you?"
Montgomery shook his head slowly while staring at Travis. "Every instinct I have tells me your existence eventually ends in federal investigations."
Kate laughed softly.
Castle looked back toward the bottle again, almost hypnotized by it. Then he finally turned toward Travis with genuine seriousness settling into his expression. "As much as I would love to taste this…" He paused briefly. "You sure you want to open it? This thing is ridiculously expensive."
"Who cares?" Travis replied immediately.
He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a corkscrew before tossing it lightly toward Montgomery.
"Care to do the honor, Cap?"
Montgomery caught it automatically. Then he stared at the tool in one hand and the bottle in the other.
"With pleasure, Wilson."
The old cork resisted at first. Dry from age. Fragile enough that everyone unconsciously tensed while Montgomery worked slowly and carefully, like he was defusing a bomb instead of opening whiskey.
Castle looked physically stressed watching it happen.
"Easy," he muttered nervously. "If that cork breaks, I may actually die in this bar."
"Relax," Montgomery said without looking up. "I opened evidence bottles older than you."
"That somehow does not help."
A soft pop finally echoed through the room.
Everyone paused.
Then the smell hit them.
Warm oak, smoke and something rich and deep that had been trapped inside glass longer than any of them had been alive.
Castle closed his eyes briefly like a man experiencing a religious event.
"Oh, that is obscene," he whispered.
Ryan blinked. "It smells good."
"It smells like Scotland punched history directly into a bottle," Castle corrected.
Travis reached beneath the counter and pulled out several glasses. He lined them on the counter. Montgomery poured the drink.
Travis picked up the first glass. "To surviving insane cases," he said.
Espo took the second glass and raised it. "And haunted theatre drugs."
Ryan sighed heavily. "We are never escaping that phrase." He took his glass. "To friends and peaceful times."
Kate laughed softly while raising her drink too. "To no more dead bodies this week."
"Now that," Lanie muttered as she took her glass, "feels dangerously optimistic."
Montgomery shook his head while lifting his glass toward the group. "To good detectives," he said quietly. "Even the ones who give me migraines."
Castle raised his drink last with a grin already returning to his face. "And to old bars refusing to die."
The glasses clinked together beneath the dim lights of The Old Haunt.
--
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