506. Chapter 506

After The Blue Butterfly

Episode 4.14

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: See above.

Kate looked over her husband's shoulder at what he was writing. "I thought you said you weren't going to have Nikki and Rook go back into the '40s?"

"I did, but I did say I'd like to write something Raymond Chandler-esque. I'm just using Nikki and Rook for the time being to get a feel for the period. If I decide to write a novel set in the '40s, I'll change the names."

"Mind if I read?"

"Suit yourself, dollface." Rick replied in his best Bogie lisp.

Red Heat

By

Richard Castle

It was one of those scorching New York summer days when water pressure drops because all of the kids have opened up the fire hydrants to get cool. It was hot and humid and I could almost feel the thunder and lightning of a summer thunderstorm coming. It got a lot hotter when she walked in.

"Are you Mr. Rook?" She asked.

Even if I wasn't Jameson Rook, PI, I would have been Rook for her. She was gorgeous, with long, long legs, a slender waist and a nice, if not overly padded, top. Her face was perfect, from her chin all the way to her chestnut curls. I was in love.

But I played it cool. "That's me, Jameson Rook, PI. And you are?"

"Nikki Heat, I'm a reporter for the Ledger."

The Ledger was my favorite newsrag, and her name sounded somehow familiar. "You covered the flower show at Madison Square Garden last month, didn't you?"

She blushed prettily. "Yes, but only because the editor, Mr. Montgomery, won't give me any real stories to cover. I'm not a child, Mr. Rook, I was a WASP, Women's Air Service Pilot, during the war. I flew every type of airplane this country had. I want, and I deserve, a chance at a real story. Even if I have to go find it myself with no help from the Ledger."

"So why come to me? Did you think I have a story?" She was dreaming if she thought that.

"Have you ever heard of the Red Herring?"

I nodded. "I may be a PI, but I do read. It's a literary device, an innocent character who appears to be guilty." If she didn't have such great legs, I would have sneered when I said that.

To my surprise, she shook her head. "No, Mr. Rook, the Red Herring. Klaus von Schlagater, the German herring king of the late nineteenth century had a necklace made out of rubies in the shape of a herring for his wife. His son managed to offend the Nazi's and he had to sell it to flee Germany. No one's seen it since 1945. But I think it's right here in New York."

"Where?" I was curious.

She smiled at me. "That's for me to know, but I need a little bit of help finding a man. A former Robbery detective named Schlemming. Have you heard of him?"

"Sure, he investigated the hijacking of a bunch of brand new televisions. When the sets were recovered, one was missing. IA found it in Schlemming's apartment. He was just sitting down to watch Uncle Miltie." I shook my head. "I can't really see people spending their evenings staring at a little picture in a plywood box. It's a fad. In five years no one will remember what a TV was. Just you wait and see."

"Maybe," She said, "but Schlemming knows where the man who brought the Red Herring into this country is. I need your help in finding him."

Kate put down Rick's laptop. "Really? Are you still jealous of my old boyfriends?"

"Terribly. If you don't know that, you have no idea how much I love you and have loved you."

Kate smiled. "That's sweet, but you really need to get over it. You do know how much I love you?"

"Show me." He said, handing her his laptop back.

Red Heat

By

Kate Beckett

It was a beautiful spring day in New York. It was sunny with just enough of a breeze to let the guys in Central Park get a look at my long legs and my new silk stockings when the wind blew my skirt around. Once back at my office, I found I had company. A ruggedly handsome jamoke in an expensive suit with a killer smile. I was wary of him at once. He was just the kind of guy who'd break my heart and go off with some blonde.

"Can I help you, bub?" I asked.

"Are you Nikki Heat, the private eye?"

I nodded. "Sure am. And you?"

"Jameson Rook. I'm a reporter."

I smiled. "I remember you. You wrote a long piece in the New Yorker about Bob Hope and his tours during the war. I remember you writing about coming ashore in Normandy seven months after D-Day."

He had the good grace to blush. "Yeah, Papa Hemingway, Bill Mauldin, Ernie Pyle, John Hersey, and the rest did all the heavy lifting during the war, but my piece on the French champagne country after the occupation was important."

I shrugged. If he wanted to think that, let him." So why do you need a PI, Mr. Rook?"

"Have you ever heard of the Red Herring?"

"Sure, a herring shaped ruby necklace worth millions, supposedly smuggled into this country right after the war. What about it?"

He looked surprised that I knew about it. Did he think he was dealing with some rookie?

"I think I know who helped smuggle it in to the US. I need help finding her."

"That'll be fifty bucks a day plus expenses. Who's the dame?"

"Her names Jacinda. I don't know her last name, but she's a stewardess for Caribbean International Airways. She flies out of New York once a week. She's due back later tonight."

"Whoa! Whoa there. Rook looked like the kind of guy who'd break your heart and go off with some blonde? You broke my heart by choosing Demming over me. What did you expect me to do?"

"Fight for me. Tell me that you cared. Act like I was important to you." Kate shot back.

"And Jacinda?" Castle said. "I was with her for about three days. You were with Dr. Motorcycle Boy for forever."

"Forever? Are you kidding?"

Rick grabbed the laptop back and continued the story.

I called a cop friend of mine who owed me a favor. He told me that Schlemming liked to play the ponies and would most likely be at a horse parlor just off of Lexington, getting the results from the races in Florida.

"I'll go find this low life for you, Miss Heat."

"Not so fast, buster. I'm going with you."

I rolled my eyes, but let her tag along. After all, she was easy on the eyes.

Schlemming wasn't at the horse parlor, but about half of New York's finest were. I walked over to my pal Detective "Tubby" Ryan. "So, what went down here?"

"Ex-cop named Schlemming got it in his car. Shotgun at close range. He had a note in his hand. Part of it was torn off, the rest reads, "Red Herring at seven o'clock at…"

I walked back to Miss Heat and told her it was a no go. Schlemming was dead and the Herring was going to be picked up at seven o'clock. That was only an hour and a half from now.

Oddly, she smiled. "I know where he's scheduled to be at seven. It was on his calendar in his apartment."

"And how do you know what was on his calendar?" I asked.

She smiled at me. "The wind blew his door open. As a good citizen, I wanted to make sure no robbers were inside. He was to be at the Pennybaker Club at seven."

We were at the Pennybaker with ten minutes to spare. As soon as we walked in, I saw the Red Herring, decorating the substantial chest of my favorite songbird, Betsy Sinclair.

"Hey, sweetheart, where'd you get the jewelry?"

She smiled. "My boyfriend, Don Pornleone gave it to me. He got it at seven this morning just as we were waking up, but it turned out that the jewels are fakes. It is pretty, though."

I looked over at where Don Pornleone was sitting. "I assume he's been here since then?"

Betsy nodded. "He came with me when I started rehearsals at eleven."

I shook my head. It was over. Pornleone was the only non-Italian member of the Five Families. He'd changed his name from Davidson to Pornleone to fit in. The hit on Schlemming had been a professional job for getting the Don a fake Red Herring. The shooter was halfway to Cuba by now.

"Sorry, Miss Heat. It looks like we won't find the Red Herring here?"

"How do you know if we don't look?" She smiled, took my arm, and led me into the Pennybaker.

"That's the worst story you've ever written." Kate said.

"Oh, you think you could do better?" Rick asked with a smile.

"I know I can." Kate began typing.

Nikki looked at the ruggedly handsome Rook. "You know, Rook, there are more important things in life than jewelry."

"I agree. You for instance. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

Nikki smiled. "Me too. How about we go back to my place and fool around?"

"Why don't we go back to my loft and not fool around, but get straight to business?"

She stood up. "You coming, Rook?"