487. Chapter 487

After Slice of Death

Episode 3.20

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Of all the pizza joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine and tells me I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: See above.

Sicilian Heat

By

Richard Castle

Crack crime reporter Jameson Rook walked down the mean streets of Lower Manhattan, rubbing shoulders with the scum of the Earth: Bond traders, hedge fund managers, lawyers, real estate developers and even politicians. Rook had been in some tough places, Grozny, Kabul, Goma in the eastern Congo, even Dodger Stadium on dollar beer night, but none of them gave off the stench of corruption and depravity that he was experiencing now.

He squared his manly shoulders. I'm Jameson Rook. He thought. I'm a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter. I can do this. Normally, Rook would be with his beautiful, brainy and dedicated fiancé, Captain Nikki Heat, but the man he was going to talk to tonight wouldn't speak in front of the authorities. And Nikki was as authoritative as they came. Hot, too. As Rook reminded himself.

Then he saw it right ahead of him. The flashing neon sign reading, Authentic Palermo Pizzeria. Rook smiled a devil may care smile and walked through the door. After apologizing for the damage done, Rook made a note in his notebook: Open doors before walking through them.

He was confronted by a man who looked like a giant sized version of the Pillsbury dough boy after a three day drunk. "You are?" He growled at Rook.

"Jameson Rook."

The man nodded and motioned Rook to the back.

Rook carefully opened the door and walked through it. Yes! He was there. This rotund, sweaty, balding and nearly illiterate man held the key that Rook needed for his next headline grabbing article. Carefully, to show he knew the code, he bent down and kissed the man's doughy ring. "Thank you for seeing me, Joshfather."

The Joshfather smiled indulgently. When he spoke it was in a low, guttural accent, redolent with the rhythms and syntax of Sicily. "It is always good to meet an honest reporter, Mr. Rook. How may I be of assistance to you?"

"I'm writing an article on the New York pizza wars, Joshfather, and I would like…"

"There are no New York pizza wars, Mr. Rook. Those rumors of such wars are base lies and canards put out by the enemies of good pizza. I mention no names, but a chubby old man with a white beard and a fake military rank might bear looking at. And there's this clown…" But the Joshfather said no more.

Rook nodded. "Thank you, Joshfather. Now if you will tell me…"

But Rook was interrupted by swarthy man with white powder on his suit. "Joshfather, we're ready to make our deliveries now."

The Joshfather crossed himself. "Go with God, Tomaso."

"Who was that, Joshfather?" Rook asked, sensing something odd about the man.

"That is Tomaso Demmingo."

"What does he do?"

"He's a tail gunner on a delivery truck."

"And there are no New York pizza wars?"

"Correct, Mr. Rook."

"But there is some…friction concerning pizza in New York?" Rook asked carefully, not wishing to upset the Joshfather.

The Joshfather nodded sagely. "What can we do with these people? They make what they call Hawaiian pizza with Canadian bacon and pineapple." The Joshfother crossed himself again and quickly lit a candle to Saint Anthony the Abbot, the Patron Saint of Pizza. "Who are these Canadians and Hawaiians? They are not from Palermo, Messina, Ragusa, Siracusa, or even Trapani. Apparently they are not even from Calabria. What can they know of pizza? And vegan pizza. How can a real Italian eat a pizza with no sausage, no pepperoni, no salami, no prosciutto? These things are simply not done, Mr. Rook. Something has to be done."

Suddenly a man hurried into the Joshfather's office with a pizza box in his hand. With a look of terror on his face, he placed it on the desk and opened it with a flourish. Inside, Rook saw a white chef's hat and detected the aroma of salted fish.

"What does this mean?" Rook asked.

"It means that Will Sorrento sleeps with the anchovies." The Joshfather said coldly. "You will excuse me, Mr. Rook, but I must meet with my consigliere, Alexis Castello."

Rook bowed to the Joshfather and quickly left. Nikki Heat needed to know of this development.

Rick Castle felt a warm kiss on his cheek. "You know that I love you, don't you?" Kate asked.

"Of course."

"I'm your wife and I've never felt happier, safer, or more loved than when I'm with you."

"I know. I feel the same way about you."

"Then why are you still jealous of Will, Tom and Josh?"

"Because they were with you when I wasn't and I'll be jealous of them until the day I die. And every other man you've ever dated, going back to the grunge rocker in high school. "

Kate sighed and took the laptop from his lap.

Sicilian Heat

By

Kate Castle

Little Italy was no longer the home to the vibrant Italian culture that it had been for almost a century, new immigrants were moving in so that less than ten percent of the people here were Italians. But Captain Nikki Heat knew that some of the old mustaches still lived here. And someone she needed to see was still here. There were still some Italians around as Nikki was subjected to a barrage of wolf whistles because of her endless legs, perfect ass, perky boobs and stunning face. But only her fiancé and the love of her life, the ruggedly handsome reporter, Jameson Rook, would ever be able to do more than enjoy Nikki's charms from a distance.

She strode confidently into the Authentic Palermo Pizzeria and sat down next to her old frenemy, Don Javier. "Don Javier, you have my utmost respect, up to a point. These pizza wars must stop. We can't be killing people over the use of mahi mahi on pizza."

The old man shrugged. "Mi Niccola, I am no longer the man I was. A new and more violent generation has taken over."

"Who are they?" Nikki asked softly.

"Who indeed?" Said a voice from behind her.

Nikki turned slowly, smiling as she recognized whom she faced: "La Jacinda." It was whispered that in the slums of Palermo the words "la jacinda" were now slang for "Come and get it, boys." Jacinda wore a dress that was tighter than the skin of a sausage. Nikki wouldn't be surprised if Jacinda hadn't been stuffed with a more than a few sausages in her day.

"Be sure you can win a war before you start one, Jacinda." Nikki said softly but with menace. "I won't tolerate a pizza war in my precinct."

Jacinda laughed. "A pizza war? Nonsense. This is New York, pizza ovens explode all of the time. Delivery trucks are hijacked by the hungry. Hipsters suddenly take over neighborhood pizzerias and spout bad poetry and discuss post sexual liberation art. How can I be held responsible for this?"

"Someone has been dropping Acme safes on competing pizzerias from a great height." Nikki's eyes slid over to cover blonde Wile E. Cowan, who suddenly looked away, unable to meet Nikki's gaze.

"I've advised my clients to say nothing more, Captain Heat."

Nikki recognized the speaker as Meredith "The Actor" Castle, the new mouthpiece for the Jacinda crime family. Flanking her was Ellie O'Monroe, a tough Irish chick and the legendary enforcer for the Jacindas. On the other side of her was Kyra "Killer" Blaine, from the mean streets of the Hamptons, a former enforcer with the Presbyterian mob in the Hamptons. It was said she'd been kicked out of the Hamptons for eating her salad with her dessert fork. There were just some things you just didn't do in the Hamptons.

Nikki smiled lazily, confident in her abilities to wipe the floor with the lot of them, and from the looks of the floor, a good wiping was needed. After all…"

"Okay, okay. You've got me and I've got you, babe. I get it. I guess it is kind of silly to be jealous of your old boyfriends. After all, Will Sorenson married an English football hooligan with ties to the Islamic State and because of her, he's cleaning toilets for the CIA, something any FBI man would hate. And Demming ran off with Captain Gates and now works for her PI firm on the North Shore of Alaska. Getting photos of an unfaithful female polar bear can be brutal I guess. And Josh contracted a rare African disease that makes him sexually irresistible to Great Apes."

Kate nodded. "I understand the last expedition into the interior found some messages from him written on banana skins, pleading for rescue. Oddly enough, the expedition, funded by the Richard Castle Foundation, was unable to find him."

"These things happen." Castle said innocently, making a mental note to increase the expedition leader's bonus.

"I'm going to bed." Kate winked at him. "You coming, Castle?"

"Always."