I Beg Your Pardon!kathiannMay 28 2013, 15:03:13 UTC
They stood in front of a rather opulent house in the middle of the California desert, cursing the murder that brought them to this God forsaken piece of dry burning earth.
“Why is it always in the middle of the summer that we get called to the desert?” Rigsby asked, stepping close to Cho and trying to keep his voice low so that no one else would hear him. It didn't work.
“Murderers aren't usually concerned with your comfort levels, Rigsby. Lets get inside and see what's going on.” Lisbon snapped, clearly not an happier about being on this case than Rigsby was.
They were greeted at the door not by the local sheriff as was expected, but by a man dressed in a rather formal looking suite and tie. The man looked not unlike Tim Curry in the 80's movie “Clue”.
“Hello,” the man said with a faint British accent, “I am John Bishop, the butler, if you would like to follow me I can show you to the room with the body.”
Not waiting for an answer John Bishop turned and walked into the house. The dim coolness of the inside of the mansion, for lack of a better word, was a welcome respite from the heat and glare of the outside. It took a few minutes for the team to adjust to the drastic difference and follow the butler.
When they arrived at what would probably be called a sitting room, the team saw right away the body that was sprawled in front of a cold and disused fireplace, the back of the head bashed in with what was probably the fireplace poker left hastily next to the body.
Most of the team listened as the sheriff explained how they had been called to the house and who the victim was, the son of the owner of the house, currently in Europe for the summer. Jane, being his normal self, was not listening so much as wandering around the room picking up on the little details that most people missed.
Lisbon as in the middle of asking a question of the sheriff when Jane, without preamble, shouted “The butler did it!” And gestured wildly to the man who was standing quietly and out of the way in a corner of the room.
“What?” Lisbon asked, clearly annoyed.
“I beg your pardon!” The butler protested, clearly offended.
“Nah, I'm just kidding. I just always wanted to say that.” Jane said with a chuckle.
“Jane...” Lisbon began, clearly working up to a rather public reprimand.
“But in all seriousness, the murderer is clearly this young mans lover. He brought him here to break things off and it did not go well. I would look into who he was seeing, not officially, but on the side, and you shall have your killer.” And then Jane walked out of the room.
“Is he always like that?” The sheriff asked Lisbon quietly.
“Yeah. But you get used to it.” And then, as though Jane's outburst had never happened, she continued the question that Jane had interrupted.
“Why is it always in the middle of the summer that we get called to the desert?” Rigsby asked, stepping close to Cho and trying to keep his voice low so that no one else would hear him. It didn't work.
“Murderers aren't usually concerned with your comfort levels, Rigsby. Lets get inside and see what's going on.” Lisbon snapped, clearly not an happier about being on this case than Rigsby was.
They were greeted at the door not by the local sheriff as was expected, but by a man dressed in a rather formal looking suite and tie. The man looked not unlike Tim Curry in the 80's movie “Clue”.
“Hello,” the man said with a faint British accent, “I am John Bishop, the butler, if you would like to follow me I can show you to the room with the body.”
Not waiting for an answer John Bishop turned and walked into the house. The dim coolness of the inside of the mansion, for lack of a better word, was a welcome respite from the heat and glare of the outside. It took a few minutes for the team to adjust to the drastic difference and follow the butler.
When they arrived at what would probably be called a sitting room, the team saw right away the body that was sprawled in front of a cold and disused fireplace, the back of the head bashed in with what was probably the fireplace poker left hastily next to the body.
Most of the team listened as the sheriff explained how they had been called to the house and who the victim was, the son of the owner of the house, currently in Europe for the summer. Jane, being his normal self, was not listening so much as wandering around the room picking up on the little details that most people missed.
Lisbon as in the middle of asking a question of the sheriff when Jane, without preamble, shouted “The butler did it!” And gestured wildly to the man who was standing quietly and out of the way in a corner of the room.
“What?” Lisbon asked, clearly annoyed.
“I beg your pardon!” The butler protested, clearly offended.
“Nah, I'm just kidding. I just always wanted to say that.” Jane said with a chuckle.
“Jane...” Lisbon began, clearly working up to a rather public reprimand.
“But in all seriousness, the murderer is clearly this young mans lover. He brought him here to break things off and it did not go well. I would look into who he was seeing, not officially, but on the side, and you shall have your killer.” And then Jane walked out of the room.
“Is he always like that?” The sheriff asked Lisbon quietly.
“Yeah. But you get used to it.” And then, as though Jane's outburst had never happened, she continued the question that Jane had interrupted.
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