[ case closed ]

[fanofthegenre]

"The ex-wife in the office with the fire ants," Beckett murmurs, juggling the ring of keys in her palm until she singles out the one she's looking for and slides it into the lock on her apartment's front door.

The case had wrapped all too easily after she and Castle had made it back to the city. Anne Gordon had confessed only after a little pressing in the interrogation room, and a secondary search of Cavendish's home had even turned up several crispy exoskeletons in the fireplace ashes from where she'd attempted to burn the evidence of the shopping bags. All in all, things had ended rather nicely - Castle had even fulfilled his urge and gotten to play with the squad car's siren and lights, and now she was going to put up her feet for the evening - probably literally - with Castle in tow.

She lets them both into the apartment, flicking on a few lights and shedding her coat and scarf before making her way towards the kitchen. Clearly, there are several options awaiting her in the relaxation department, but she's aiming for just one right off the bat.

"I'm gonna grab a beer. You want?"

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[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"And you even got to expense the mileage," he adds, following her into the apartment.

It certainly wasn't one of the simplest cases they'd ever worked together (or that Castle has ever cooked up over a glass of Scotch and a MacBook Pro), but when it came down to it, the reason for all crimes could be reduced to three motives: greed, jealousy, and deranged ex-wives. Once you broke through the clutter, the heart of crime really wasn't that complicated. Aside from the shopping bags, Anne Gordon's second biggest mistake had been leaving an IP trail behind her when she ordered the ants over the Internet. From there, the ant hill of damning evidence had built up into a mountain.

Castle's pretty pleased with himself, and understandably so.

He takes half a second to consider her offer -- "Why not?" -- and threads his scarf through his collar. "I've got to figure out a way to work this into a book. Truth is stranger than fiction." He runs his hands over his arms, chasing down a thousand invisible insects. It's been a habit with this case. "And a lot more itchy."