Title: Seeking death
Author: DarkRose1902
Fandom: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst
Rating: M (probably overly-cautious)
Warning: a murder,suicidal thoughts, a visit to a BDSM club, canon death & rape but nothing explicit
Spoilers: General
Summery: A dead man in an office block reminds Jane of a period just after his wife and daughter were murdered; a time when he wanted to know how she felt and then just die.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters you recognise but do own the ones you don't. This is my way of loving them.
Story
Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon got out the car at the same time and introduced themselves to a waiting policewoman. Kimball Cho and Wayne Rigsby hurried out a second car to join them. A crowd of workers milled about outside the tall glass office building they strolled into and a dead man in a suit was splayed over a sofa in the lobby; his legs were parted and arms rested on the sofa back. It was an obvious seductive pose. His face was made up with a sloppy and garish make up; the red of his lipstick matched the blood staining his white shirt.
"Name?" Lisbon questioned the police officer.
"George Edwards." A young and suited man answered. He was facing them and the body but carefully not looking at it. His suit was well tailored and he held an expensive briefcase in both hands in front of him.
"And you are?"
"I'm the office manager … Artie … Arthur Mason." His eyes drifted down to the body before shooting up again, distressed.
"George is … was my brother in law,"
"I'm sorry for your loss," Lisbon said,
"Can you explain the position of his body?" Jane said as tactful as ever,
"George is gay. But only his family and close friends know … knew. Christ he was only twenty-eight!"
"No one here?"
"No. You know how offices can be,"
"No what are they like?" Jane asked leaning forward seriously and George smiled nervously,
"Not exactly PC." He said quietly.
"I see," Jane said finally leaning back,
"So someone here would probably react badly if they found out?"
"I guess … maybe," Arthur looked distraught at the thought and gazed outside, watching his employees milling about with a frown,
"But I don't know how they would've found out. George was always so careful. He had this club he went to a couple of towns over. Never did anything here. His dad didn't approve. He even went on a couple of dates with one of our receptionists to throw off suspicion you know." Lisbon and Jane exchanged a look but Arthur saw it,
"What?"
"Sounds a lot of trouble to go to for something that is widely accepted Mr Mason." That set the man off,
"Accepted? Yea sure if any of you go out and ask any of them lot what they thought of a gay man they'd all say it was no big deal, no reason to hide but as soon as you are gone and they are all going to be in here, chatting away. They'll be open and admit they are glad he's not here any more so they don't have to worry about how to react around him."
"You sound like you're speaking from experience Mr Mason?"
"Yea of course – I'm siding with a queer so I must be one too," he said bitterly,
"You love your wife. I saw that when you spoke about her. You know this is really going to hurt her." Jane paused, staring intently into Arthur's eyes,
"You had a crush on him though. Not the same as how you fell about her but you did have a thing for him." Jane said, surprising the team. Arthur didn't try to deny it.
"I struggled with my sexuality growing up. I think I wanted to be gay so there was a reason all the kids picked on me. Guess that doesn't really make sense to you." He was rubbing his wedding ring as he spoke.
"How I met Jenny actually. Me and George met in that scary club I was telling you about. It was five years ago now when I was 27, newly promoted here and stupid. Nearly got myself into a whole lot of trouble but the owner he's a good man. He sat me down and set me straight." Artie chuckled.
"George tried to pick me up on my way out and we got to talking. The next week he brought Jenny. She'd wanted to go for a while, check up on her little brother. She has all the best bits of him but in the right package for me. We've been married two years, got a baby on the way. George was really looking forward to being an uncle." He choked in emotion and that was enough sentimentality for the team so Lisbon asked the police officer to take him home.
"Alright Rigsby you and Cho start talking to the people here. Start with Edwards' team and floor, the people who worked closest to him Jane . . . Jane?" she spotted him outside heading for her car and hurried out to catch him. Jumping in the car just before he drove off she demanded to know where he was going.
"I think I know what club Artie was talking about." He didn't look happy she was there (but then it was often difficult to tell how he felt).
"The gay club?"
"I have also had… encounter with one of its owner." Lisbon stared across the car in disbelief,
"You?"
"Yes,"
"In a gay club?"
"What?"
"There something you want to tell me?" she tried to joke,
"That attitude is exactly what Artie was talking about." He said righteously,
"What?"
"Lots of non-gay people go into gay clubs,"
"I know that but you?"
"Sure."
"What for?"
"What for what?"
"What do you go into a gay club for?"
"I didn't go in for any particular reason," he said evasively and Lisbon could tell he was lying. She didn't know why. She knew being married with a kid didn't mean he couldn't be gay but he had loved his wife passionately, maybe he was bi or bi-curious. She spent the thirty-minute journey pondering Jane and his visit to the club (as well as thinking about her current case). Jane spent the time thinking about the case (and worrying about taking Lisbon to the club).
FB
Patrick jerked into consciousness as car lights lit up the bush he'd crawled under. The light set his head pounding and he groaned sitting up slowly. He didn't remember leaving the bar last night, or how he'd made his where here (wherever here was). The memory loss didn't worry him instead he wished he could lose more. His families' funeral was barely three days ago and he'd been in an alcoholic haze since: he found a bar, drank until he was kicked out, passed out somewhere and then found another bar. It was a routine he intended to keep until he died. That, as far as he was concerned, couldn't come fast enough.
"I love you and I miss you," he whimpered to his dead family. Dragging himself to his feet he looked around. He backed away quickly, too quickly and fell over. He kept moving backwards though hands and feet working in an uncoordinated fashion to get him as far away as possible. In front of him was his house, that house where his life had ended. He backed into a neighbour's wall and shuddered to a halt. Their dog barked but Jane barely flinched, the memory of walking in that night replaying in his mind.
"Who's there?" a shaky voice called out into the night. Jane didn't answer, didn't see or hear the person getting closer.
"It's Patrick, Eleanor get a blanket!" still Jane heard nothing. By the time he was aware of his two elderly neighbours they were wrapping a blanket around him and hauling him to his feet.
"Come inside you poor man," Thomas said soothing but Patrick sought to get away. He didn't want comforting; he didn't need it. He was too weak to resist though and was soon sitting on their sofa. The man of the house was running him a bath and the lady was stroking his arm. She disappeared to make him something to eat while he was stripped; lifted into the bath and washed all the while Thomas whispered calming words to him. It felt so good to be comforted in this way that Patrick couldn't fight it.
When a guy from the studio had come to speak to him, all Patrick could see was the unholy glee at the probability of higher ratings. He had punched the man, leapt on him like a possessed animal. His knuckles were still red. He had stayed away from friends and colleagues after that. They couldn't understand and he didn't want their sympathy.
"I'm not hungry," he whispered when Thomas had tucked up in a bed and Eleanor presented him with a plain ham and cheese sandwich.
"Not look son; you need to eat, so eat." Thomas was a tough old goat. Patrick remembered that and then he remembered how much his wife and liked the couple and tears fell. It took him an hour but he finished the meal. His neighbours sat with him in silence the whole time. Then he quickly fallen asleep and they had left. When he woke it was with a clearer head and a greater yearning to die. He slipped out the back to avoid looking at his old house.
From there he quickly made his way to the central part of town. Thomas's words were echoing in his ears,
"She wouldn't want you to give up,"
"You're strong enough to survive this" and even unbelievable,
"It wasn't your fault."
"You trying to die, is that it?" the old man had asked then going for the more brutal approach when Patrick hadn't reacted,
"Taking the cowards' way out – she would want you to fight. Your wife would want you to live on and find happiness, in the future. To live your life and remember her." It was the last thing he'd said that had stayed with Patrick though,
"She suffered Patrick, she suffered and the least you could do is suffer too," of course the old man had meant suffer by living. But Jane had no intention of living. And if that made him weak he didn't care. The old man was right though. She had suffered and if he was going to die he would need to suffer too. He saw that as he headed across the city. It made sense now he was thinking more clearly. He would find someone to make him suffer and then he would die.
End FB
As it turns out his old neighbour had slipped a sleeping pill into his sandwich and his thinking was anything but clear: he was running through the suburbs in borrowed pyjamas at half one in the morning. It was a testament to his determination that he found his way to that club a place he knew about but never thought he would visit. A nightclub and more; a master, dominatrix or even a sub or two for hire and spare rooms filled with sex toys that club goers could rent out. It was fairly underground; law enforcement agencies knew about but only took an interest if something went wrong. For that reason they were very careful with who was admitted and who could pay for the services they offered. A drugged, distraught and suicidal psychic was definitely off the cards.
"This it?" Lisbon asked sceptically. From the outside it looked like an empty warehouse. It even had some smashed windows. Jane smiled at her,
"You judging a book by its cover?" he asked,
"Isn't that how YOU judge a book?"
"I can tell a lot from a cover," he smirked and led her to the entrance. He knocked three times with varying pauses, giving the impression there was a secret knock.
"Who is it?" a high pitch voice asked from the other side,
"Police, open up,"
"But officer I wasn't expecting guests," the voice protested and the door stayed motionless,
"Paulie open up I want to speak to Melanie," Jane requested.
"Patrick? Patrick is that you?" the heavy metal door opened and a six foot plus giant appeared, squealed and rushed over hugging Jane close to his body and lifting him off the ground.
"You promised you'd visit," he said suddenly sour and dropped Jane on his feet with a thud.
"I'm sorry I've been busy," Lisbon watched the exchange with disbelief – Jane came across as rather closed off and undemonstrative.
"Well you certainly look better than the last time you were here," he said with approval. Jane caught sight of the shocked look on Lisbon's face and suppressed a smile. Paulie was a big, black man with bulging muscles dressed in tight fit clothes and wearing makeup. His voice did not suit his physic but neither did his personality.
"Thank you."
"My Rolo is fine – we're still together. My fiery little Latin lover still pinches me in all the right places . . ." Patrick had to interrupt or he feared the bouncer would go on for awhile,
"Paulie this is Teresa Lisbon we're here about the murder of a client of Melanie's."
"Oh no not Jason! I really like Jason or Peter its Peter isn't it he was always my favourite . . . "
"George Edwards?"
"Melanie doesn't have a client named George, unless he uses a fake name when he's here. Some people just can't admit they come here. It's so sad,"
"Can we come in and talk to her?" Lisbon was getting irritated,
"Oh I'm so sorry, yes of course. Melanie is setting up the naughty room. Come on in." Lisbon looked around in interest. The entrance was massive and she saw there was an interior wall,
"Some of the clients are screamers," Paulie explained with a high pitch laugh.
"It's a night club," Jane corrected.
The place had lots of lighting but it was all dim, black and red paint and hanging cloth. Black metal and dark wood – it looked like the set of some vampire film. The left opened up into a dance floor, stage and bar. Lisbon gazed in surprise at the sight of hanging caging – she thought they were only found in cinema. Her eyes found Jane's laughing ones and she frowned kicking herself for making it easy for him to tease her.
"Melanie and Matthew Hart are twins that have run this place for over ten years." Jane explained as Paulie led them to the right, down a dark narrow corridor.
"George was gay – wouldn't he have been a client of Matthew's?" Lisbon asked and Paulie snorted with laughter.
"Matthew dealt exclusively with the club side of things and Melanie is in charge of all the … employee's this side. She checks out everyone so everyone who comes here is her client and she'll know who George was assigned too." Jane explained and Lisbon was amazed to see the faint shade of a blush.
"Oh my," Lisbon said as Paulie led them into the large 'naughty' room. Painted all black hanging black and red cloth sectioned bits of the room. Equipment she had no understanding of was spread about.
"Patrick!" a tiny blond woman called, she was dressed in jeans and a football jersey but had a thick layer of white foundation on her face and thick ruby red lipstick. She was sat on some kind of torture instrument and waved them over to her.
"Hi Melanie," Patrick was definitely blushing now and Lisbon stared at him in wonder.