Boston PD Detective Jane Rizzoli winced as she unfolded herself from her unmarked. She raised one hand to shade her eyes from the blinding sunlight, unhooking her aviators from the v-neck of her simple grey shirt with the other. With one practised swing she placed them over her face and huffed a sigh of relief.

"Morning, Detective!" chirruped the uniform manning the tape, lifting it for her without needing Jane to flash her badge. Jane slipped under.

"Aren't we just two spoonfuls of sunshine this morning?" Jane muttered to herself. Luckily the uniform didn't hear and turned back to face the early morning rubberneckers.

Jane took a moment to watch them – the crowd of milling bystanders with their cameraphones and obsessive need to blog everything. Jane didn't particularly want her face splashed across every Twitter account originating from the Greater Boston region, so her slow pivot wasn't intended to garner her fifteen minutes of fame. Instead her eyes scanned the craning joggers and dog-walkers for something else.

Whatever it was she didn't find it, and Jane paused only momentarily before turning her back on the crowd to face her newest victim.

"Vic's a Jane Doe, about 27," said Frost. The young black man was a cautious distance away from the cloth barrier that had been hastily erected around the body. He held his Moleskine in one hand, a white hankerchief in the other. "Jogger found her this morning on his usual route. Korsak's questioning him," Frost nodded to the corner of a brick building that helped form the gloomy dead-end alleyway where homicide milled around their latest task. Jane followed his gaze and saw her old partner crouching before a thirty-something man in fluro pink running shorts.

"Nice, right?" Frost asked, eyeing the shorts. "Gotta get me a pair."

"Is someone on security cam detail?" Jane asked, wincing as a fresh pain shot through her head.

"Yeah, I have unis canvassing the block for any cameras. And a couple more dumpster diving within a six block radius for any ID or murder weapon."

"And what's our murder weapon?" Jane asked, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her right hand.

"Vic has multiple GSWs from a .38. Big mess," Frost replied. He paused, eyeing her. "You alright, Jane?"

Before Jane could reply the staccato beat of high heels on concrete announced the breathless arrival of Chief Medical Examiner Maura Isles – a gifted ME and Jane's best friend. The red-head was dressed immaculately, as usual, and Jane caught a whiff of something perfume-y that was bound to cost more than her monthly pay cheque.

"So sorry I'm late!" Maura said. "Bass wouldn't eat his breakfast."

"You and that damn turtle, Maura," Jane said.

"Tortoise, Jane. How many times do I have to tell you? Oh dear."

Jane looked at her. "What?"

Maura leant forwards, scrutinising Jane's sharp face. "You're suffering from an obvious case of veisalgia indicated by hypoglycemia, probable glutamine rebound, and a vitamin B12 definciency."

Jane stomped her foot, grimacing. "Maura! You know I hate it when you do that."

"Oh," Maura wrinkled her nose. "And a bad case of halitosis. Might I suggest a breath mint? I'm sure I have one somewhere." She began rummaging in her Armani.

"What? No. I don't want a breath mint, Maura. What does all that mean?"

Maura smiled. "It means you have a hangover, my friend."

"Well, no crap." Jane smiled as her friend laughed. "Okay, alright, let's meet our newest Doe."

The pair stepped away from Frost and beelined towards the location of the body. As they walked Jane eyeballed the surroundings. The body lay close to the wall of one of the buildings right at the mouth of the alleyway, which terminated in a corrugated iron wall a few dozen feet away. A grimy dumpster played sentinel opposite the body. Jane saw what looked like fresh blood splatter on the greasy, rusted metal. It also lay in small congealed pools on the concrete.

"Geez, that's a lot of blood," Jane said.

"Jane, you know you cannot confirm that it is blood until tests have been run," Maura admonished her.

"Maura, it's blood. Okay. This is a murder scene. It's not going to be ketchup. Ohhh, that is messy." Jane stepped around the cloth barrier shielding the body from prying eyes.

Multiple GSWs didn't even begin to cover it. The woman lay crumpled near a grate, her dark blue coveralls stained deep red. Her head was turned sideways, mutilated face towards Jane, medium-length, mousey-brown hair pulled back in a simple, workmanlike ponytail. One of her heavy workboots was missing. The other was blackened from what Jane guessed was oil.

"Looks like he emptied a few clips into her," Jane continued, crouching down to get a closer look. "He did a number on the face. Maybe this was personal."

"Jane, you know I hate it when you speculate. As for the facial damage, there looks to be enough teeth left to pull dental records. So if they don't find any identification we should at least be able to find out who she is."

"Right. Well. You get on with that, and I'll continue speculating," Jane replied, straightening. Maura grinned at her as she snapped on her purple medical gloves.

Jane spent half an hour canvassing the area with other detectives and a handful of unis, looking for any clues or evidence. They found nothing. Jane returned to the alleyway as the body was being zipped into a bag. Maura watched it, idly straightening her dusty rose pencil skirt. Her friend had an amazing figure maintained, as Jane knew, by carefully planned exercises and a meticulous eating regime. Jane's own toned figure came from sparring sessions and hearty burgers. The women were worlds apart, but simulatenously often on the same page.

"It's a good thing we're at a murder scene," Jane grimaced as Maura looked up and saw her approaching.

"It's a … good thing someone is dead?" Maura asked, confused.

"Well, no."

"Then why is it a good thing we're at a murder scene?"

"Because I'm going to kill Frankie."

"Ohh," Maura nodded knowingly. "Because he kept you up all night and made you drink all that vodka."

"Ya think?" Jane clipped in reply. Groaning, she raised one hand to cradle her forehead.

"You might not wanna kill me after you see what I found, sis," came a voice behind her. Jane turned to see her little brother Frankie grinning lopsidedly at her.

"After all those shots you deserve to die," Jane told him. "What did you find?"

"You see that? So much hostility," Frankie said to Maura, who smiled.

"Frankie! Just show me!"

"Alright, alright. Geez, keep ya hair on," Frankie said. He produced a baggie from behind his back. In it – a black leather wallet.

"Yesss. Frankie, I could kiss you!" Jane said.

"Not with that morning breath, you ain't," Frankie replied.

He yelped when Jane hit him.