179. Time to say goodbye

“Good evening, Detective Beckett.”

“Hey.”

“We were intending to continue our discussion of compromises.”

“Oh. Yeah. Um… could we start with other things?”

“Certainly. What are they?”

“Um… the dinner at Dad’s and… er… I just finished a case with an alcoholic.”

Detective Beckett sounds a little uncertain. This does not surprise Dr Burke. One of these events would warrant a discussion. Both must surely have been quite discomfiting. “With which would you like to begin?”

“The case.”

“Mm.” Dr Burke steeples his fingers. “Pray tell me the circumstances.”

“An actor had been stabbed at La Mama,” Beckett says. “One of the other actors was an alcoholic. About the same age as Dad, but still functioning – and still drinking.”

“I see. How did you react to this?”

“Before we get to that,” Beckett says tightly, “it turned out that the director and cast were all rabid fans of Castle’s mother.”

“Goodness me,” Dr Burke says mildly, since some comment of surprise is clearly expected and warranted. How on earth did Detective Beckett manage to become involved in a case of that nature? “How did you deal with each of these aspects?”

“I managed the alcoholic,” Detective Beckett says with tight-wrapped pride. “Just like we talked about two weeks ago. I cleared it with Montgomery first, and then I dealt with him just like any other witness.”

“How did you convince Mr” –

“Captain” –

“Captain Montgomery to allow you to work on this case?”

“Castle agreed to tell him if he thought I was going down the rabbit hole. I asked him to.”

Dr Burke thinks that there is a story behind that, but does not, yet, probe. The important matter is that Detective Beckett sought support from Mr Castle, although any of her colleagues would have sufficed, in order to have a second opinion of her behaviour. Having taken this sensible precautionary step, she then managed to deal with the person in question.

“Very good. Did you experience any discomfort while interviewing the witness?”

“Yes,” Detective Beckett admits uncomfortably. “He wanted a drink. It was just like Dad used to be.”

“However, you did not provide him with one, did you?”

“No. I finished the interview and dismissed him.”

“Were you tempted to help him?”

“No. I hated seeing the similarities. I hated seeing him. I just wanted him gone.”

Dr Burke smiles. “Good.” Detective Beckett’s eyebrows rise. “That would be a normal reaction to someone who reminds you of a highly upsetting experience. I must remind you that you also concluded your interview, thus achieving the objective of your work, before doing so.” He steeples his fingers under his chin, again. “Very pleasing.” He sits back in his own chair, and pauses for that to sink in.

“Now, you mentioned that the director and the cast were very impressed by Mrs Rodgers?”

“The director was a pompous ass,” Detective Beckett says with some feeling. Dr Burke reassures himself that he is not such a person. “He assumed I knew nothing.” She smiles very unpleasantly. “I capped his quote and then introduced Castle as Martha Rodgers’ son. He fell apart. He practically kissed my feet because I knew her.”

“That must have been disconcerting,” Dr Burke agrees.

“Yeah.” The unpleasantly predatory smile becomes wider. “But I used it. All I had to do was get her in there.”

“How” – Dr Burke manages not to add on earth, with a supreme effort of will – “did you succeed in that?” He has no doubt that Detective Beckett did succeed.

“It was the only way through.”

“What are you not revealing, Detective?” Dr Burke is certain, merely from the tone of her voice, that there is a considerable back story behind that sentence.

“I didn’t want to. I was going to ask Montgomery to take me off if Castle wouldn’t be my safety net. But it wasn’t about Castle not believing in me, it was because I’d have to deal with her.”

Dr Burke does not follow. There appears to be a substantial piece missing from the ridiculously truncated explanation Detective Beckett has just proffered.

“In what way did Mr Castle appear not to believe in you?”

“He said he wouldn’t cover up for me. I didn’t want him to cover up, I wanted him to tell me straight if I wasn’t coping.”

“Mm?”

“But that wasn’t what he meant. But it gave me a way out so I was just going to believe he meant it even though he started to backtrack right away. I was going to drop the case. Ask Montgomery to take me off it. I thought that Castle wouldn’t do it because he thought I wasn’t ready even though he didn’t say that and I didn’t even realise that it was about his mother and not about whether I could do it till we’d had the fight.”

Dr Burke makes a small note to remind him to enquire how Mr Castle had regarded this argument. He asks instead about a matter of more interest, although he does not expect Detective Beckett to think so.

“How long did it take you to resolve your differences?”

Detective Beckett regards him curiously, clearly struggling not to ask what has that to do with anything?

“Not that long. But I would have put it down if I hadn’t realised because I thought he meant I wasn’t ready.”

“You were, in fact, compromising, both by resolving the argument swiftly and by being prepared to accept Mr Castle’s judgement in a matter of such significance,” Dr Burke says pointedly. Detective Beckett winces, and ignores the point for now. “That aside, explain your feelings about Mrs Rodgers in more detail, please, in the context of the case.”

Detective Beckett expands on her reasoning.   “They were star-struck,” she says, with a faint flavour of – well. How extraordinarily odd. Dr Burke had expected contempt, but that is not the emotion he detects. It is almost professional respect. How very peculiar. Clearly there is more to this story than has been apparent until now.

“They were desperate to meet her. So we had to work out how to use her.”

“Mm,” says Dr Burke meditatively, leaning back and tapping his fingers together. “Why did you consider that you needed to involve an untrained civilian?”

“To solve the case,” Detective Beckett says in surprise, as if Dr Burke is devoid of intelligence. “Don’t forget that Castle is – technically – an untrained civilian, and he’s useful on all our cases.” Detective Beckett’s emphasis on the description does not incline Dr Burke to believe that she agrees with his words. Where Mr Castle is concerned, Dr Burke would be extremely surprised to learn that Detective Beckett is in anything other than violent disagreement with his words.

“You would be able to solve the case, however, without involving Mrs Rodgers.”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Detective Beckett snaps. Dr Burke raises his eyebrows at her tone. “Justice shouldn’t be delayed. Not using Martha would have meant that it took longer to solve the case. That’s not how we roll.”

Dr Burke notes that Detective Beckett’s dedication to her job easily overrides any other thoughts. No doubt that is why she had snapped at Mr Castle when it had become apparent that he had inadvertently withheld information about the murdered tennis coach.

“Why did you think that involving Mrs Rodgers would assist? Was it not far more likely, given your recent history with her, that she would take the opportunity to continue her efforts to insist that you attended events at the Castle household?”

“Yes,” Detective Beckett says baldly. “But it was a risk I had to take. Anyway, I sent Ryan with Castle to do the initial work. I didn’t go.” Her mouth twists. “I couldn’t go to the loft anyway. I wouldn’t have made it through the door with Martha there.”

“A perfectly reasonable decision.”

“Anyway, they were to get the low-down on all the actors and director, as much as Martha knew, and show her the combined video of the rehearsal and then take her to the theatre. So they did.” Detective Beckett shifts in her chair. “Espo and I met them at the theatre.”

“Mm?”

“I expected trouble. But… well… it was like she’d totally forgotten that she’d been pushing me. She was completely focused on the awfulness of the play. She didn’t mince her words about that. So we worked out what we needed to do, just like I would if I was dealing with a different branch of the NYPD, and did it.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“Pretty stressed,” Detective Beckett admits. Dr Burke translates that to mean that Detective Beckett had been extremely tense throughout the whole case. “But it worked. We identified the four most likely suspects and then tracked it all through.”

“Who was the culprit?” Dr Burke fails to prevent himself from asking. He really must curb this tendency toward morbid curiosity.

“The director.”

“I take it that the play will not go ahead, then?”

“You take it wrong,” Detective Beckett says sardonically.

“It will? But it has no director.”

“Oh,” says Detective Beckett with a very wry smile, “I think it probably does by now.” Dr Burke draws a blank as to the reasons for the smile. “Martha.”

“Mrs Rodgers?”

“Apparently” – Detective Beckett does not sound convinced – “so Castle thinks, if she’s got a theatre role she’ll leave me – us – alone. She was certainly pretty into it. Castle thought that he could make sure she stuck to the theatre, so I guess he’s made sure she got the gig.”

“Mm,” Dr Burke emits. “If you had not allowed Mrs Rodgers to play a part in the case, would she have been able to take over the directing of the play, assuming that she does in fact do so?”

Detective Beckett is stopped.   “No,” she says eventually. “Castle said that. That if I hadn’t let her in it wouldn’t have happened.”

“I agree with Mr Castle.” Dr Burke smiles gently. “I consider that you have achieved a considerable step forward through this case, Detective Beckett. You have proved to yourself that you can perform your job even in circumstances where an alcoholic is involved, and it appears that you may have rid yourself of the problem of Mrs Rodgers’ focused attention. Most satisfactory.”

He leans forward, then back again. “Let us turn to the dinner with Mr and Miss Castle and your father.” He forcibly stops himself steepling his fingers. He has noticed that Detective Beckett has detected that habitual movement and he does not wish to develop a ‘tell’. “Did it take place?”

“Yes. Saturday.”

“Please describe the day.”

Detective Beckett does so. Dr Burke stops her before the arrival of the Castles. “You spent the day with your father?”

“Yes.”

“You have told me what you did. You have not told me how you felt at any point, nor have you mentioned any topics of conversation other than that related to preparing the meal.” Dr Burke fixes Detective Beckett with a piercing stare. “Please describe those aspects of the day.”

Detective Beckett does not appear to wish to do so. As ever, that indicates that there is a matter which should be brought into consideration.

“There were some mentions of Mom,” she says very reluctantly.

“I see.”

“It was all very careful. Fragile. Tiny little things.”

“Such as?”

“Mom had a slow cooker. I didn’t remember that. Or her telling Dad to hurry up with the washing up. I said that to him, and he said she always used to say that. Like I said. Little things.”

“Would it be correct to describe them as memories of times when the family was happy?”

“Yes.”

“How did you feel?”

“It was all fragile. As if one wrong word would collapse it all.”

“Did it?”

“No.”

“So both of you were taking considerable care to avoid unfortunate comments or actions?”

“Yes.”

“Is this not a considerable improvement on your encounters with your father in this office?”

“I guess so.”

“Let me summarise,” Dr Burke says smoothly, “and put this encounter in a different context. You spent a full day with your father, in a co-operative enterprise. The cookery, I infer, was successful, or you would have mentioned that there were practical difficulties.” Detective Beckett nods. “This is much longer than you have spent together in several weeks, at a minimum.”

“Years,” Detective Beckett bites off. “Ten years.”

Dr Burke shows no surprise. Indeed, he is not at all surprised. “To continue, although the day involved some care, and some moments of emotional tension, at no time did these result in an argument or hurtful words or conduct, from either person.”

“No-o,” Detective Beckett agrees slowly.

“Even those moments of recalled memory, although stressful and painful, did not cause a breach.”

“No,” Detective Beckett says more definitively. “We got through.”

“Do you consider that you would be able to repeat the exercise of spending a day with your father?”

“Yes.”

There is no hesitation in that answer. Dr Burke is well satisfied, and leaves that aspect of tonight’s session to one side. Detective Beckett may thus consider the point at her leisure.

“Now, let us turn to the advent of the Castles and the dinner itself.”

“They liked the food,” Detective Beckett says, by way of introduction. Following her introduction, however, she stops. Her face twists. Eventually she re-establishes control and continues. “It was all going okay. Dad and Alexis get on, but that’s fine. It’s not like we were.”

“Elucidate, please. What is ‘not like we were’?”

“Dad talking to Alexis isn’t parental. It’s like he’s talking to one of his friends’s child. Or grandchild, more like.”

“I see.” Dr Burke does not comment on Detective Beckett’s view of the relative ages of her father and Miss Castle. He hopes for grandchildren of his own.

“It was all fine. Alexis wanted to know about Stanford, but I managed that okay. She wanted to know about entry, not about the courses or what it was like there.” Dr Burke notes with interest that Detective Beckett is blushing. He recalls from her file that she had achieved very highly at school. “Dad bigged me up a bit.” Dr Burke can imagine. That is the nature of proud fathers. “Anyway. That was okay. Mostly okay. But then she asked why I transferred.”

Dr Burke barely conceals his own wince. Detective Beckett does not manage to conceal hers in any respect whatsoever. She has subtly adopted a highly closed and defensive position.

“How did you respond?”

“I didn’t. Dad did. Alexis was distraught. It wasn’t her fault. It was such an obvious question…”

Detective Beckett’s voice trails away. Dr Burke observes her hard-fought control, and simply waits.

“He told her the truth. All his mistakes. And I said sometimes you have to choose to let someone drown. Sometimes you even survive the choice.” Her tone is bleak and emotionless.

“What happened then?” Dr Burke asks, calmly.

“Nobody said anything. Then I went to fix dessert in the kitchen and Dad cleared the plates.” There is the hint of a sniff. “He said it wasn’t my fault. Just like when I was small.” Tears puddle. Detective Beckett buries her face in a Kleenex. “He hugged me just like he used to.” The Kleenex is replaced, and then replaced again.

“What was Mr Castle’s reaction to your upset?” Dr Burke hazards, after a moment or two to allow Detective Beckett to recover her composure.

“He wasn’t involved.”

Dr Burke is extremely surprised. He also experiences a stab of considerable annoyance that Mr Beckett has avoided Mr Castle’s overprotective anger whenever Detective Beckett is upset, while he, Dr Burke, has been subjected to it on more than one occasion. He breathes evenly and allows his unwarranted annoyance to dissipate. Naturally, on objective examination of his feelings, this does not take long.

“Mr Castle was not involved?” he queries.

“It was just between Dad and me. It wasn’t… we weren’t arguing. It was shared. It hurt us both but we weren’t hurting each other. We just hugged and then dried up on a kitchen towel and had dessert and it was okay.”

“Mm,” Dr Burke hums, encouragingly. “What did you conclude from this episode?”

“We didn’t fight. It had been a really stressful day, even if we didn’t show it, and it – we – could have had another go-around like we’ve done here, but we didn’t. I think” – Detective Beckett looks somewhat uncertain – “we might have got to a better place. I – er – he supported me,” she rushes out. “I never thought… I thought that couldn’t happen. But it was about our family. I think… I think we got somewhere?”

“It certainly appears that you have made considerable progress with your father,” Dr Burke agrees. Indeed, it appears that there has been a significant breakthrough and shift in the relationship. Excellent. “As an adjunct to that, how did you feel about seeing Mr Castle with his daughter?”

“It was okay. Because it wasn’t like Dad was being swallowed up in them, it was easier. And because we were getting on better it was easier to see them.”

Dr Burke refrains from making any comment which might be construed to mean Just as I told you. Detective Beckett has reached that conclusion entirely on her own. Further emphasis upon it would be otiose, and undoubtedly counterproductive.

“What do you believe your next steps are?”

“I said to Castle that we – Alexis, him and me – should have dinner out, in case she’s worried I’m upset with her. Something casual. I think we shouldn’t make a fuss about it but just get used to it?”

“A sensible step. What else?”

“I need to go to the loft. When Alexis is there. And when I’m ready, when Martha is there. But not yet. I can’t face Martha yet.”

“But you feel ready to face Miss Castle?”

“Probably. Soon. Maybe even next week.”

Dr Burke ruminates for a short time. This is really very pleasing. His methods have been wholly successful, despite the need to adapt to the particular circumstances of this most complex of cases. He congratulates himself on his ability to have maintained both an open mind and considerable flexibility in an extremely trying situation. He reflects with equal pleasure that Detective Beckett now requires only the lightest of touches to review her issues, as she appears to have, at last, accepted that she must undertake the analysis required herself. She is now, clearly, doing so, and therefore Dr Burke need only provide very slight guidance and measured encouragement.

“That is also a reasonable attitude to adopt. Do you wish to have a joint session with your father on Friday?”

“No. I think… I’m going to see if he wants to have dinner on Sunday. Like we used to before… all this.”

Dr Burke nods judicially. “Another extremely positive step. I consider, Detective, that you will not require such frequent sessions in the very near future, unless you should so request. You may retain the Friday session this week if you so desire, but I suggest that you confirm whether you wish to attend much nearer the time. However, you should attend next Tuesday, and after that we may amend the schedule appropriately.”

Detective Beckett appears quite shocked by that statement, although Dr Burke is less than flattered by her immediately following expression of considerable delight and relief.

“I can step it down?” she says happily. “Really? That’s great.”

“You have made substantial progress. All is not entirely restored, but a substantial part of your treatment has come to fruition. Matters are progressing very satisfyingly. You may take considerable comfort from that. Of course,” Dr Burke feels it necessary to warn Detective Beckett, “there will be setbacks and arguments. However, you have the ability to detach from these and consider the underlying reasons as well as the obvious reasons, in order to come to a true assessment of the position and respond appropriately.”

“Oh,” Detective Beckett says weakly. “Okay then.”

“Tonight’s session is concluded, I believe. Please inform me on Friday whether you would like to attend; otherwise, I shall see you on Tuesday.” Dr Burke stands. “Goodnight, Detective Beckett.”

“Goodnight,” she says, and strides out, confidence in her posture and happiness in every movement.