Nick & Nora 2/8
Author: browneyesparker
Artist: justlook3
Link to art: http://justlook3.livejournal.com/161961.html
Word Count: 12, 752
Rating: K+
Summary: AU
Disclaimer: "the Thin Man" belongs to Dashiell Hammett and W.S Van Dyke. "the Mentalist" belongs to Bruno Heller and Warner Brothers.
Notes: This story is in NO WAY related to the Kat Danning and Michael Cera movie "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist". It was actually inspired by four things, "Heroes" by David Bowie, a quote by Robin Tunney in a 2010 issue of TV Guide, the summers I spent in the Cape Cod as a kid/pre-teen (which, were murder free) and "Murder, She Wrote" with a little bit of Poirot and Wooster & Jeeves. I don't think the latter comes out TOO much, but it certainly has that feel. To justlook3, the one who encouraged me to write this in the first place and supplied me with the AMAZING art to go along with it, to my two little sisters who told me not to complain and just write, to my brother who asked how my "babies" were coming along, to my dad who said it was okay if I didn't finish it when the stress of my grandfather's death and arguments with my sister became too great, and to my beta-reader just_mosie and the couple people who read test versions and fixed mistakes/added in put. . . thank you. You all made this story possible.
Patrick got up early the next morning, hoping to sneak out quietly before Teresa woke up and asked if she could tag along with him on his visit to the morgue. He glanced over at her side of the bed to make sure she was still sleeping and saw that it was empty. He groaned inwardly and slid out of bed to go looking for her. When he couldn’t find her anywhere in the house, he figured she had taken Asta and went across the beach to check on their elderly neighbor like she usually did after a major storm.
He showered as quickly as he could and then scribbled a note to his wife, telling her where he was going and that he would be home sometime before lunch. The whole time he kept glancing over his shoulder, fearful that she would come in the kitchen and catch him trying to leave without her.
Five minutes later, he was home free and on the road to the mainland, ignoring his growling stomach as he tried to find a static-free radio station. Unfortunately the only one he could find that was relatively clear was one that played the top 40 on repeat and there was no way that he was going to put up with whiney boy bands singing about what made a girl beautiful or vindictive teenage girls with no vocal ability at all singing about their ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend.
He powered the radio down and tried to remember the reasons he hadn’t wanted to bring Teresa with him in the first place. He usually liked her company on long car rides, her conversation made the drive to the city bearable. With that thought in mind, he almost turned around to go back to the house and get her, but a glance at the clock in his dashboard told him that it would prove to be a waste of time, because he had already knocked out a large portion of his travel time.
He sighed and clicked the radio back on; he’d just have to rely on the horrible top 40 crap to keep him company.
.
Patrick stopped short when he saw the petite brunette with a fox wire terrier resting in her lap as she sat on an old, wooden bench in front of the police department holding a clear plastic umbrella in one hand and a large Starbucks coffee in another.
“What are you doing here?” He asked.
“Tagging along,” she answered, smiling at him triumphantly. “I knew you wouldn’t take me with you, so I got up early and took the ferry over.”
“You weren’t at the house when I left,” Patrick said lamely. “But I thought you were checking on Mrs. Wynant “
“I did check on her,” Teresa replied, putting Asta down and standing up so she could share the umbrella with her husband. “We had to clean up some of her plants and get her cat off the roof, but other than that she’s fine.”
“Oh. . .”
“You know, for somebody smart you can be pretty dumb sometimes,” she teased him. “I can’t believe you didn’t figure out that I’d come with you somehow.”
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, taking the umbrella from her and taking her hand. “I really can’t believe that I didn’t see it coming either. I mean, I can’t even remember a time since we met and became friends that you let me leave you out of anything.”
Teresa shrugged and looked down at their dog. “I’m going to run and put Asta in the car, I have a feeling they won’t let him in the police department.”
“You’re probably right,” he answered, taking his keys out of his pants pocket and handing them over to her along with the umbrella. “The Citroen is parked two rows down. I’ll wait here for you okay?”
She looked at him suspiciously, trying to figure out if he was going to try and give her the slip again. She realized that it didn’t matter if he went ahead without her; she’d catch up with him eventually. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “Be right back. Come on Asta.”
Patrick watched as his wife hurried down the sidewalk, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds just to make sure he was still waiting for her as their dog faithfully trotted alongside her, seemingly aware of his mistress’s need for haste.
Teresa returned a couple of minutes later, not bothering to even try and conceal her shock when she saw that he was still waiting for her just like he had said that he would.
“Ready?” He asked, reaching for her hand and leading her to the front entrance of the building.
“Yeah,” she answered, smiling up at him. “Are you ready?”
“Of course I am,” Patrick replied, raising his eyebrows as he opened the door and motioning for her to go in first. “Why would I be anything but ready?”
“I guess because you haven’t really done any detective work since we got married,” Teresa said, smirking. “You might be a little rusty.”
“Woman, I am anything but rusty!” Patrick told her. “I’m always keeping my skills sharpened.”
“By watching CSI: Miami marathons on AMC and reading James Patterson novels?” Teresa asked smirking slightly. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s a great way to keep your ‘skills’ sharpened.”
“Come on Reese, you know that I always know who the killer is before any of the idiotic, pretty boy detectives on television do.”
“But it is television, the writers create thinly veiled plots so the viewers at home are able to figure out who the killer is before the ‘pretty boy detectives’ do,” Teresa pointed out as they shuffled through security.
A few minutes later, they had both been given visitor passes and were being transported down to the autopsy room by a bored looking detective.
The coroner waiting for them was tall, thin, and balding with a pronounced nose and thin, frameless glasses.
Patrick’s face lit up when he recognized the man as a doctor he had worked on cases with a few times when they had both been located in Sacramento. Eventually Steiner had taken a job transfer that paid more and they’d lost contact.
“Steiner!” He exclaimed gleefully.
“Jane!” Steiner replied as he turned around, smiling at the younger man. “They told me that you were consulting on this case. It’s so good to see you again!”
“You too,” Patrick replied warmly. “I thought the alien abduction case was going to be the last case we ever worked on together.”
“Me too,” Steiner admitted, turning to look at Teresa. “And who’s this beautiful young woman that you have with you Jane?”
“Just some random woman I picked up on one of the cases I was working a while ago,” Patrick answered with a fake air of dismissiveness as he winked at her. “We dated for a while and then I decided to marry her for her money.”
Steiner laughed. “Like you need any more money Jane! Everybody knows that you weren’t working with the CBI for the weekly paycheck. Who is she really?”
“I’m Teresa Lisbon,” she answered, grinning. “Patrick’s wife, except he wasn’t being entirely honest when he said he married me for my money.”
“Oh?” Steiner asked.
“No, the truth is that I married him for his money.”
Both she and Patrick laughed at this particular statement and Steiner shrugged, figuring it was some sort of private joke between the married couple.
“Well,” Steiner said after their laughter had died down. “I’m happy for you Jane. I didn’t ever think that you’d get married again.”
“Me either,” Patrick answered looking at Teresa affectionately. “But there’s an exception to every rule, and I’d love to tell you the real story one day. But for now, I think we need to focus on the task at hand.”
“Of course,” Steiner replied, remembering that Patrick Jane had never been one for sharing private details as he led the pair over to an operating table and pulling off the white sheet that was covering the corpse.
“She was strangled to death,” Patrick said after thoroughly examining the body and taking in the light black and blue abrasions on her neck.
“That might be a very good assumption,” the doctor agreed, pushing his glasses further up on his nose and smiling inspite of himself.
Patrick ignored the sarcastic remark and continued to study Pricilla’s neck critically. “I can’t tell from the size of the bruises if she was strangled by a man or a woman.”
“That’s because she was strangled with a scarf,” Steiner answered, pulling a plastic Ziploc bag out from a drawer and holding it up for him to see.
“Hermés,” Patrick mused aloud.
Teresa frowned. “What does the brand of the scarf have to do with anything Patrick?”
“We’ll have to see. Well, we’re done here for now,” Patrick said, sticking his hand out towards the coroner. “Steiner, it was nice seeing you again.”
“You too Jane,” he agreed. “And it was a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Jane.”
Teresa smiled and nodded, sliding her hand into her husband’s. “The same goes for you.”
“One more thing before we go,” Patrick said. “Is there a place you can get decent eggs around here? I’m afraid that I didn’t have time to eat breakfast before I came today.”
“Sorry Jane, the only places we have around here for breakfast are Denny’s, iHop, and a McDonalds.”
Patrick made a face at the prospect of a chain restaurant breakfast. “It’s fine, I should get home and talk to the sheriff anyways. See you
around doc.”
.
“I’d like to talk to the boyfriend,” Patrick said as he and Teresa were on the way home.
“I thought you said the boyfriend didn’t do it,” Teresa replied. “You said that it would be too obvious if he did.”
“I still think the boyfriend is innocent,” Patrick answered. “But he still might know something that could be of use to me. Like if she had any exes that could have been trying to get her back, or if she was having trouble with people at work-”
“But she worked at her dad and mom’s B&B,” Teresa interjected.
“Right, and one or more of the employees could have gotten jealous because she got the royal treatment from her daddy and mommy,” Patrick pointed out.
“But Cho said it was a crime of passion,” Teresa felt the need to point out.
“I guess we’ll have to look into ex-lovers or employees with a secret crush then, won’t we?”
“I guess,” she agreed, smiling at the way he had said we.
“Now could you call Cho and tell him that we’re headed back to the island?” Patrick asked, tossing his cell phone over to her. “Then ask him if we could possibly talk to Pricilla’s boyfriend when we get back.”
“But you need to eat,” she reminded him.
“I’ll eat later,” Patrick assured her.
“Here,” she said rifling through her purse and tossing a granola bar in her lap. “We aren’t going to do a single thing if you don’t eat anything.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “If I wanted somebody to tell me what to do, I would have moved in with my mother.”
“Would you even allow your own mother to tell you what to do?”
Patrick considered this statement for a moment and then shrugged. “Probably not. Would you call Sherriff Cho now?”
“Will you eat the granola bar?” Teresa asked, scrolling through his contacts.
“I can’t open it right now,” Patrick answered. “I’m driving.”
“I’ll open it for you,” Teresa said, clicking the send button and pressing the phone to her ear as she unwrapped the bar from its packaging and handed it over to her husband. She greeted the man on the other end of the line. “Hey Kimball, this is Teresa Jane. I’m calling for Patrick, he wanted me to tell you that we’re leaving the city now and that he’d like to talk to Pricilla’s boyfriend when we get back to the island. Okay, see you soon.”
“What did he say?” Patrick asked through a mouthful of food.
“He said it was fine if you questioned Edward, but you’ll have to go over to the bed and breakfast to do it because they didn’t have anything to hold him on,” she replied, sliding Patrick’s cell phone back into his jacket pocket.