Okay, this story popped into my head Halloween night and I decided to see what I could do with it. It is just something that my imagination dreamed up. It is two chapters long. I hope you enjoy it. Be aware, this story is a little different from most of my stories. Don't assume anything.
I don't own Bones.
Oooooooooooo
His phone ringing, Booth slapped his hand on the receiver and placed it against his ear. Not quite awake, he groaned as he answered. "Booth."
"Sorry, I know you worked late last night, but we got a case."
Opening his eyes, Booth looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. "It's 4:47, damn you."
"What do you want from me? Cullen said for me to call you and I did."
His eyes filled with grit, Booth turned over and rubbed his eyes. "I'll be there after I make some coffee. You don't like it, tough!"
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Arriving at the crime scene, Booth held his Thermos of coffee under his left arm while drinking from a mug. As he slowly approached the crime scene, Booth took in the activity surrounding the body. Walking past a police officer, Booth frowned a the mob standing nearby. "The press is too close, Baker. Make them move back another 500 yards. The crime scene is too small."
Sloppily saluting Booth, Baker motioned towards two other officers and started pushing the reporters back. "Come on people, the FBI wants you to move further back. Stop your bellyaching and just do it."
Her press credentials in her hand, Hannah Burley waved them in the air and shouted at Baker. "Look you have no right to keep the press from this story. We have a right to know what's going on."
Rolling his eyes, Baker shook his head. "Listen to me, the FBI and Metro Police are not trying to keep you away from the story. We just need to be able to do our jobs and we don't need reporters trying to make it harder for us. Now move back or I'll run you in for impeding an investigation."
Finished with his coffee, Booth placed his thermos and mug on the hood of a police cruiser and moved closer to the body. "Okay, I'm here. Now tell me why I'm here."
Standing up, Doctor Cam Saroyan smiled at her grumpy friend. "Seeley, didn't I just see you at another crime scene six hours ago?"
Disgruntled, Booth pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket. "Yes, Cam you did. Looks like I'm getting as much sleep as you are."
Laughing, Cam shook her head. "Which means none at all."
He didn't have a come back, so he shrugged his shoulders. "Why am I here, Cam?"
Pointing at the body, the coroner explained, "Looks like a Federal case, Seeley. The victim is Dr. Daniel Goodman. He's the Director of the Jeffersonian Institute."
Peering closely at the body, Booth asked, "Cause of death?"
Cam squatted next to the body and moved the victims head so he could see. "It appears that he was shot in the back of the head. I think the bullet is still inside his skull, so I should be able to retrieve it during the autopsy."
Looking around, Booth pursed his lips. "I wonder why he was here? There isn't anything around here except warehouses."
Puzzled, Cam released his head and stood up. "That surprised me too. He's been dead for about four hours so he died around 1:30. None of the warehouses around here are open this time of night that's for sure."
Jotting down a few notes, Booth finally looked up from his notebook. "Who found the body? I'd like to talk to him."
Quickly scanning the area, cam pointed down the street. "The guy in the pea coat found him."
Looking back at his Thermos, Booth pointed at it. "I have coffee over there if you need it."
A smile lighting her face, Cam turned to look at the Thermos. "Oh thank you. You're a God send."
Amused, Booth walked over to where the sailor was standing. Holding up his credentials, Booth identified himself. "FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, I heard you found the body."
Annoyed that he was being kept at the crime scene, the sailor punched his fists in his jacket pockets. "Yeah, I was taking a walk and I found him. Can I go now? I'm tired and I want to go to bed."
"Not until I get some more information, Sir." Holding his pen in his right hand, Booth started to iinterrogate the man. "So what's your name?"
Resigned that he had to stay for awhile longer, the sailor replied, "Chief Petty Officer, Dwight Andre."
Pointing around with his pen, Booth asked his next question. "Why'd you walk down this particular street? Were you meeting Dr. Goodman here?"
Andre removed his hands from his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Who's Dr. Goodman?"
Jotting down the witness's name, Booth pointed at the victim. "The victim."
Placing a cigarette in his mouth, Andre denied he knew him. "I don't know anyone by the name of Dr. Goodman. I told you I was just taking a walk and I found him. I didn't see anyone else so why don't you let me go now?"
His gaze flicking towards the various warehouses, Booth returned his gaze back towards Andre. "There isn't anything here but warehouses, Sir. I find it hard to believe you came here just to walk. This is the kind of place you plan to come to not a place you pass through."
Irritated with Booth, Andre took the cigrarette out of his mouth. "I like to walk by myself without meeting people. This is the perfect place to do that. It allows me to walk without having to talk to people. I'm what you call non-social."
Making a few more notes, Booth handed Andre his notebook. "Okay Chief Petty Officer Andre, write down your name, phone number and address and then you can go."
Relieved, Andre grabbed the notebook and wrote down the information. Once he was done he handed the little book back. "It's a shame the guy is dead."
Nodding his head, Booth placed the notebook back in his jacket pocket. "I'm sure his family will think so."
Ooooooooooooooo
After he parked his black, 1952 Ford Victoria across the street from the Jeffersonian, Booth walked across the street and entered the building. Spying a security guard standing near a desk, Booth approached him. Holding up his badge, he asked the man, "I need to speak to someone about Dr. Daniel Goodman. Did he have an assistant or a colleague I could speak to?"
"Sure." Walking around the desk, the guard lifted the receiver up and dialed a number. "Someone from the FBI wants to talk to someone about Dr. Goodman, do you want to handle that?" Getting his answer, the guard looked at FBI Agent. "Dr. Brennan is on the way."
Booth leaned against the counter and watched at the security guard sat down. "Do you know Dr. Goodman?"
Leaning forward the man smiled. "Sure, everyone knows Dr. Goodman. He's a great man to work for . . . uh, is something wrong? Dr. Goodman didn't come in today. I hope he's okay."
A sound alerting him, Booth noticed the door behind the desk open. Intrigued, Booth stood up straight and stared at the beautiful woman entering the lobby. As she approached the desk, Booth held up his badge and credentials. "Special Agent Seeley Booth. Are you Dr. Brennan?"
Not sure why the FBI was at the Jeffersonian, Brennan looked at his badge and then at Booth. "Yes, I was told you wish to talk about Dr. Goodman. Why? He isn't here right now."
Placing his badge in his jacket pocket, Booth grimly pointed at the door behind the desk. "Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?"
Her curiosity piqued, Brennan glanced at the door and then back at Booth. "Yes, we can to go my office if you wish."
Pointing at the door, Booth moved around the desk. "Thank you." Following her through the door, he admired the shape of her body and the confident way she walked.
Ooooooooooooooo
Sitting next to Brennan's desk, Booth pulled out his notebook. "I hate to inform you about this, but Dr. Goodman is dead. He was murdered earlier this morning."
Shocked at the news, Brennan turned her head and stared at a skull she kept on display on a shelf. Reining in her emotions, she turned to look at Booth. "Do you know why he was murdered or who did it?"
Unable to keep from staring at her crystal blue eyes, Booth shook his head. "No, he was found in a warehouse area. We found his car three blocks away from where he was murdered . . . Would you happen to know why he was out late at night, by himself in an area that only does business during the day?"
Not sure what was going on, Brennan shook her head. "Dr. Goodman didn't consult with me about his personal life. He was a very private man."
Her eyes mesmerizing, Booth thought if he stared at them long enough he'd lose himself in their cool depths/ "That really isn't an answer."
Resigned, Brennan nodded her head. "Very astute, Agent Booth . . . Dr. Goodman was investigating a breach in Jeffersonian security. Some of our priceless artifacts have disappeared and have turned up in auctions. He was trying to investigate the problem quietly. He hoped to find out who the thief was and put an end to the pilfering."
Making a few notes, Booth finally looked up. "He should have contacted the FBI, Dr. Brennan. That kind of thing is our job. Now he's dead . . . Do you know if he had any suspects?"
Brennan decided that she needed to trust the agent if Dr. Goodman's murderer was going to be found. "Yes, he mentioned that Dr. Evan Klimkew was acting rather erratically lately. Dr. Goodman told me that he'd heard that Evan was connected with a smuggling ring in the middle east. Apparently, he's been helping some tomb raiders turn their finds into cash. They sell their items to the Jeffersonian through a middle man and then once the items are here, they let some time elapse and Evan steals the item and sells it to private collectors. It's an interesting way to get around importation restrictions. It's also not very smart. Dr. Goodman surmised what was going on with just a few clues. He thinks Evan underestimated the intelligence of the people around him. Dr. Goodman was very annoyed and he wanted to catch Evan in the act and then he planned to turn him over to the FBI."
Jotting down everything she told him, Booth bit his lower lip. "He should have called the FBI." Standing, Booth smiled at her. "Well, thank you for the information, Dr. Brennan. You've been a big help."
Quickly standing, Brennan asked the agent, "What are you going to do next?"
Placing his notebook in his jacket pocket, Booth answered her. "I'm going to check into the background of Dr. Klimkew. When I've uncovered all that I can, I'm going to talk to him."
She wanted to help the agent and she wanted Dr. Goodman to be revenged if possible. "May I be there when you talk to him? I may be able to help you."
Curious, Booth checked his watch. "Why? You're not a trained investigator."
Folding her arms across her chest, Brennan explained. "Because Dr. Klimkew is a genius and he won't take your questions seriously. He will take them seriously if I ask them for you. He respects genius and I am a genius."
Amused, Booth smiled. "Tell you what, I'll let you help me question him. I'll give you a call when I'm ready. In the mean time, don't talk to him about Dr. Goodman's murder or about the smuggling. In fact, don't talk to anyone about any of this."
"You want me to obfuscate?" Brennan decided to be completely honest with Booth. "I'm not very good at lying."
Shrugging his shoulders, Booth started to move towards the door. "Don't think of it as lying. Think of it as withholding information from a colleague for sciency reasons."
Surprised, Brennan moved around her desk. "There is no such word as sciency."
Laughing, Booth walked over to the door. "I'm not a genius Doc, so I'll take your word for it."
oooooooooooooo
Okay, I've given you a lot of clues so you should know that we are not dealing with Booth and Brennan in their normal world. All will be made clear in the next chapter which is also the final chapter. I will post it next Tuesday. Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.
