If this were any other woman -- and any other bar not teetering wildly at the edge of the universe -- Castle would take that as an unmistakable cue. Why don't you come back to my apartment and see for yourself? would be the classic rejoinder and, nine times out of ten, Castle would go home with company. It just didn't seem to work here.

"Bob Dylan," he answers, "this last century's greatest lyrical poet." He scrubs his thumbs around the edge of his espresso cup, considering. Beckett looked about ready to fall over. He nudged her gently with his elbow. "Is this the part when you tell me 'you did good today, kid; but don't get cocky'?"