“Yep. We contacted prior surviving victims. The dead guys were identified right away as the ones. I bet they never figured they’d need masks, because the idiots thought they had a sweet gig going in the dark and fog. We’re looking into revenge killings, but no one knew who they were until today. You can imagine how tough it is to get someone to talk to us on a Sunday. They seemed to enjoy the news though. I wanted to come by in person to update you on this. I’m not going to pretend with you, Nick. I think you trapped and killed those guys. They deserved it, but I could go to prison as an accessory to murder if you were ever implicated. I’ll make certain that does not happen in this case, but I think maybe our ‘Castle’ TV show joke is over.”
“Wow. That’s a lot to absorb, Neil. I’m sorry you feel you’re leading me to murderous ends. If you do believe what you’re saying though, I won’t be offended if I’m not called on as your ‘Castle’ type writer contact. We can still be friends though, right?”
Neil gulped down the rest of his drink while standing. “We will still be friends. It would be idiotic to admit to any of what I’ve said, but I’d like to think I could still call on you if my back’s against the wall.”
Nick stood with him, with Deke nosing around both men. “I’d be happy to help in anything you would like my input on, my friend. I don’t think depending on me for the murderous role you think I’m playing out is an option or reality, but I am good at profiling.”
“Yeah… you are.” Neil held out his hand and Nick grasped it. “See you later, Castle. Have a great dinner with your family. I guess Rachel’s really close by now, huh?”
“She is indeed, and thinking she will be early. We’ll be going to Washington for a couple of book signings. I’ll let you know the dates. I’d appreciate it if you could have a squad car swing around for a check once in a while.”
“Count on it.”
While watching Neil walk to his car, Nick put Gus, John, and Dan on a network call. “Neil’s been by. He has a wild theory about the criminals he asked me to look into. Apparently, he believes their deaths were due to me, a lowly author of fiction books. It ends there though. No need to say anything else about such an outlandish fable. I’m taking Rachel and Jean out to dinner. Would you guys like to meet at the beach tomorrow morning?”
“I’m in,” Dan said.
“I’ll bring the coffee this time,” Gus said.
“I will again bring the magic elixir if you would like a taste,” John added.
“See you guys on the beach then.” Nick disconnected. When he turned, Rachel and Jean were behind him, dressed to go out to dinner.
“I’m famished,” Rachel stated, rubbing her rather extended stomach. “And so is Quinn.”
“What she said,” Jean added, “but with gasps of that’s just disgusting.”
Nick again interceded on a Rachel beat-down of Jean. “You two need to work this confrontation stuff down to small disagreements without this unseemly mother/daughter blend of insanity. Otherwise, I go straight for the throat of the youngest.”
“Uh oh,” Jean said, waving her hand in abdication. “Just testing the boundaries. Fail!”
“You two will drive me insane!” Rachel clenched fists at her sides.
“It should count on my part that I am not doing so consciously, Babe,” Nick said.
Jean’s giggle and silence illustrated her instinctive knowledge about the unstated parameters. Nick gestured at the perpetrator of parental agony. “Keep it up, Dagger, and the only weapon or electronic gear device in your hand will have to arrive by way of imagination.”
“No fair! I always get screwed because I’m the smartest. You and the Momster should learn to build better barricades between you and the rest of us unfortunate inmates on the good ship ‘crazy planet’. Some of us didn’t ask to be shipwrecked here with you two weirdoes.”
Sensing she may have gone one step beyond in her defense tactic, Jean immediately recanted her last statement. “Uh… no offense of course. I was simply pointing out the plight of us less fortunate travelers, doomed to share space on the same vessel not of our making.”
“Wow,” Nick said, grabbing Jean’s ear as she danced on her tiptoes in distress. “That was a neat, well-spoken cry for help, don’t you think, mistress of the ‘crazy planet’?”
“Let her go, Muerto. In another few moments, you’ll be ditching us, and heating a can of soup. I think I’ll be less annoyed when sitting in a nice restaurant such as the Old Fisherman’s Grotto in Monterey. It’ll be just the three of us for a change.”
“Sounds good. That place is a crack up. They have that sign that says ‘No Strollers, No High Chairs, No Booster Seats’.”
“We better go there now while Quinn’s still baking,” Rachel said. “Once he’s out of the oven, we’ll have to wait years to get in there.”
“First off,” Jean said, her face crinkling into distasteful disapproval, “yuck! How dare you speak of my unborn brother as a bun in the oven! We should never go to a place where they discriminate against kids.”
“That makes it unanimous,” Rachel replied, yanking Jean toward the door, “the ‘Grotto’ it is. Besides, it’s a clear night with no ocean fog. It’ll be beautiful on the Wharf.”
“I protest this,” Jean called out as she was dragged through the door.
“You’ll get over it,” Nick replied, setting their security system. “They have great desserts there too. I’ll get you something special.”
“No way do you get the dessert tray anywhere near the Momster.” Jean ran for the car.