Here is the first chapter of a new fic: be warned, the idea popped in my head two days ago, yet I have absolutely no idea where I'm heading. I hope to be able to find logical and valuable developments. Be I couldn't resist to post this now. Please let me know what you think of this beginning, I'd appreciate an honest feed-back. It's been ages since I wrote a long one in English. Thanks a million.
All my gratitude to Shadowdweller, you're a precious Beta :-)
Love, Lyxie
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- Jane, that's enough!
- I'm not done yet.
- Oh yes, you are! What's the point of harassing that poor old man?
- Because he knows much more than he told us.
- I don't care. The shop attendant who called us told that he saw no one from the moment he called from his mobile and the moment the first policeman arrived on site.
- Yet there is something odd about him, like he is hiding…
- Jane! Stop it! And I mean it.
The consultant looked the young woman in the eye and tried that naive smile on her, like he was going to persuade her again to let him continue his favorite game. She raised her chin a bit, showing him she was no fool this time. So he turned away, let out a long heavy sigh and headed to his couch.
Patrick remained there, lying for the rest of the afternoon, one arm behind his neck, eyes closed. Those who didn't know him could have thought he was asleep, as his body was totally relaxed and motionless. However the team knew his mind was never at rest and Jane was actually sorting all the data gathered during the last few hours, in an attempt to find out who was the guilty one and plan a little Machiavellian game to disclose his or her identity.
In the meantime, Rigsby and Cho had visited all the places where the victim had been reported during the hours preceeding his death. The dead man found in an alley two days before was a sales representative for naughty nighties. This had of course made everyone at the CBI headquarters smile a little. Rigsby couldn't help but peak in the direction of Van Pelt. A little suitcase lying on the pavement next to the victim had been brought to the CBI for further investigation and possible fingerprints others than the victim's. Not knowing at first what was in there, Rigsby had opened it in front of Van Pelt. No need to tell their reaction. Rigsby couldn't help but smile a wicked smile meanwhile Grace started to blush.
The victim had been rapidly identified as Roberto García, age 37, single, Caucasian, 6'2". Despite his large built, the man had been attacked and stabbed from behind; the blade had perforated the right lung, providing García from screaming for help. This was a serious clue that the killer had a confirmed experience in close combat, possibly someone from the army special forces.
Cho started to call a few former contacts in the army in order to check whether García had a file somewhere. He too had spent some time in the special forces after a rather turbulent youth. And everyone around had acknowledged he was mastering the art of emotional control up to the point that he was often referred to as "the ice man".
Although the whole team spent hours looking for clues, they found no fingerprints, no elements on the crime scene that could lead them to the beginning of an explanation.
The only one who did not let the agitated atmosphere get to him was Jane.
Comfortably installed in his couch, arms crossed on his chest, eyes closed, he was projecting behind his closed eyelids the discovery of the victim and every single element he had recorded in his extraordinary memory.
...
First, they received a call from a little shop attendant who had found the body while taking out the trash. Lisbon and him drove to the alley and started to question the attendant. Then Lisbon's team arrived and started questioning the neighborhood, as they always did. When they were about to leave and give way to the forensic guys, Jane noticed an old bystander, standing at the end of the alley, looking straight at him with a little smile on his face. The man was obvisouly very old, wearing raggerd clothing and a tattered rain coat, just as old. His grey hair was slightly curled, his face looked like an ancient parchment. Yet there was something weird about his eyes, like they could look inside of your soul without even staring at you directly. Jane had walked to him, with the firm intention to ask him a few questions.
When the young consultant approached him, the old man extended a hand which Jane shook like he had been ordered to.
- You seem different from the rest of them, the old man said, absent-mindedly waving at the CBI colleagues.
- How can you tell? Jane replied.
- The way you're dressed, the way you're stading there, not taking any notes, scrutinizing the whole area.
- And?
- You're not a cop, that much is certain. Am I right?
- Indeed, I'm not.
- So what are you then?
- Why don't you guess, if you're so clever?
- I'd say you're… an observer.
- An observer, is that it?
The old man raised a hand to his forehead and started to look for a more appropriate word. Jane smiled, without really knowing why. This guy reminded him of an old retired soldier who tries to remember glorious accomplishments still only manages to remember what he had for breakfast.
Jane patiently waited until the man started to speak again.
- I could help you find some more clues, you know.
- Is that so? Jane replied with a gentle smile. I think I can find my way around.
- No doubt, I'm sure. So I'll be going now.
The old started to walk away from him when Lisbon suddenly joined them.
- Excuse me, Sir, are you from the neighborhood?
- I'm just an ordinary pedestrian taking a little walk in the park.
- This is a police investigation. A man has been killed in this area. I'd like to ask you a few questions. Have you seen anything you'd like te report?
The old man stared at Jane for a brief moment and turned again to Lisbon.
- No, I'm afraid not. I reached this place a few minutes after your team arrived.
- Oh I see, Lisbon said, a bit disappointed. She wanted this case to be dealth with as fast as possible as she was supposed to take a few days off shortly. And the last thing she needed was an unsolved case on her hands.
- We should take him to the headquarters for further questioning, Jane said abruptly, feeling that what the old man might have been lying.
- Why? He just told us that he hasn't seen anything, Lisbon calmly snapped back.
- He surely knows more than he pretends.
- Jane…
- Please, Lisbon.
Lisbon sighed. She knew all too well that, whenever Jane had a hunch about something, it was always worth listening to him. So she turned to the man.
- Would you please come with us; I'd like to ask you a few more questions. I promise, it won't take long and then we'll drive you back home. Are you living in the area?
-Today, yes.
- And before that? She went on.
- Is that part of the interrogation yet? The man asked with a smile.
- Well, it's just informal, to get to know you, Mister…?
- I'd like to sit down, you know, standing for so long is not good for my old bones.
- Uh… Sorry. You're right. We'll be more comfortable in our premises. Please...
Lisbon motioned him to follow to their car. By chance, just this morning, they had taken Jane's car as Lisbon's was under repair.
- Nice car! The old man exclaimed.
Lisbon couldn't refrain a funny face as they all stepped in the DS.
When they arrived at the CBI headquarters, Lisbon offered the old man to sit on the couch in her office. He gladly accepted a cup of coffee with three lumps of sugar. Jane was standing with his back against the wall, observing.
- So, Mr… you haven't told us you name yet, by the way. Lisbon started.
- My name is of no importance. I was just passing by when you were investigating for possible first fresh clues before forensic arrived.
- I understand, yet is there a reason why you don't want to disclose your identity?
Jane was looking at the old man's hands, wrinkled, fingers torn by arthrosis, nevertheless fingernails impeccable, which was contrasting with the rest of his outfit.
- Let's say I only wish to help this young man here – he pointed to Jane – if I can and then I'll be gone.
Lsibon was rather perplexed. There was no valid reason she could force the man to reveal his identity; he hadn't witnessed anything – or so he claimed.
The conversation didn't last for long and soon, the old man stood up, straightened his coat and extended a goodbye hand shake to Lisbon.
When heading to the elevator, he felt Jane on his tail. Before entering, he turned and smiled.
- You're a mentalist, right?
Jane startled inside yet nothing showed on his face.
- And, listening to the way you spoke and the words you chose, you are, or more correctly, you possibly were a cop, isn't that true? Former FBI, perhaps?
The old man smiled and entered the cabin that took him out of Jane's sight.
Jane put his fist between the doors to force them to open again.
- Why did you come to us?
- I don't understand, young man.
- Stop calling me that. Why have you deciced to come to us?
- Remember, you came to me. I was just walking by…
- Nonsense! You saw something and now you won't tell us what it is.
- Are you certain of this?
- Quite sure. You look like a person absolutely capable of manipulating others.
- That's a bit rude to tell an old man.
- Oh, I've seen all kinds of characters and sometimes, the most gentle ones are not what they seem to be.
- Excuse me, but I'd like to leave now. I'm tired and I need to rest.
- Not before you answer one more question.
- Perhaps later, but now I really need to go home.
- What's the rush?
Jane was unexpectedly a bit tense. He felt something was going on and this man was not what he pretended to be. He was about to ask more questions when Lisbon joined him.
- Jane, that's enough!
- I'm done yet.
- Oh yes, you are. What's the point of harassing that poor old man?
- Because he knows much more than he told us.
And I'm gonna find out what, trust me.
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So? your verdict? I have a few clues (thank God - I'm the author, after all ^_^) but I'm having a hard time putting them to paper. So, patience for ch2.
