Lisbon stepped out of the SUV and swung the door shut so that her presence and authority was noted by the soft slam. Hurrying towards the crime scene she ducked under the yellow tape that had been pinned up around the bottom apartment of an eight storey building, and was greeted by an oversized fat man who answered to the name of J. .
"Lisbon, you finally arrived." Larouche commented dryly at her lateness. Authority my ass, Lisbon thought. "We were about to call."
"Why? Is it my team, is somebody hurt?" She automatically began panicking. Her breath quickened slightly and so did her heartbeat.
"No, Agent. Bertram was beginning to worry. The media are here, so is your team but you and Mr. Jane were no where to be found."
"Jane's not answering his phone?" She asked, making her way into the apartment.
"We didn't bother trying." He stated after a pause. "We thought maybe he was with you."
Lisbon froze in her footsteps and turned on her heel to face the sheepish looking man. "What exactly are you implying, you miserable sack of cra-"
"Agent Lisbon!" Bertram's voice boomed from behind her as he appeared from the kitchen area. "Glad you could make it, finally."
"Of course sir." She blushed. Gulping, she followed him as he nodded his head in the direction of the body. "What's all the fuss about?"
Her eyes lay upon the scene before her and she stood paralyzed in one spot. A man lay before her with a gun in his hand, his body limp and lifeless. Grace and Rigsby were leant over the body examining the casualties.
"Hi boss, Harvey Wallcross, 29 years old, looks like a straight up suicide." Rigsby stated and stood up. "Singular bullet wound to the temple."
"Suicide? Case closed." Lisbon stated.
"Not exactly." A calm voice stated from over Lisbon's shoulder. She spun round and was met by the amused gaze of Patrick Jane, her insufferable consultant.
"And where the hell have you been?" Lisbon raised her eyebrows. He smirked.
"I could ask you the same question." He leaned in closer, as if letting her in on a secret that nobody else new, but he whispered loud enough for their colleagues to hear over the entire hubbub. "You're slacking, Lisbon." Grinning, he pushed past her. She dramatically rolled her eyes. Jackass.
"This isn't a suicide. He was murdered." Jane stated knowingly.
"How can you tell?" Grace asked, her voice sounding innocent, like a mouse.
"The guys got a gun in his hand Jane. All the doors were locked, there is no way somebody got in here. The Landlord of the building says Harvey had the only key." Bertram leaned up against the door frame.
"Yes, but the gun's in his right hand so is the wound. Our victim here is left handed."
"There is no way you could possibly know that." Lisbon interrupted, her arms folded across her torso.
"Have a little faith in me woman, would you? When have I ever been wrong before?" He asked, causing Lisbon to raise her eyebrows. "Okay, bad point. But I'm only ever wrong zero point zero one percent of the time. So, that means that I'm probably right."
"You don't sound too confident." Bertram stated.
"I was, until you said there's only one key, which means...that the killer had to have stolen his key to get another cut, and then returned it before he could notice." Jane theorized.
"Again your theory doesn't ring true." Bertram asserted. "I'm writing this up as a suicide."
"You need me to prove it to you? I thought we were the justice department." Jane commented dryly. "The pad that he uses to write down notes when he gets messages is on the left side of the phone. The pen is on the left side of the pad. The soap is on the left side of the sink, the kitchen utensils are on the left side of the stove. His drink mat is on the left side of the coffee table and his alarm clock is on the left side of the bed. All of this suggests he uses his left hand, so why is the gun in his right? I bet you'll find that the bullet that killed him wasn't fired from his gun, which means he was waiting for the killer...If anyone needs me I'll be on my couch."
The room fell silent as he left, until Lisbon sighed. "He's insufferable, isn't he?"
Jane reappeared; or rather his head did as he peaked around the door frame. "Oh and I meant the couch in Lisbon's office." He disappeared.
"What-no-Jane!" Lisbon called, but he was gone. She rolled her eyes. This is going to be a long day.
The morning had dragged on for what seemed to Lisbon like forever. The bullet that was found inside their victim's head turned out to come from another gun, and she'd had to face the never ending embarrassment (and slight jealousy that she'd not discovered it her self) that her big headed consultant had proved her theory wrong again. Aside from that the interrogations with his family had been rather gruesome to an extent, and had Lisbon teetering on the edge of concern for her health.
Now she was sat in the kitchenette nursing a cup of coffee and staring evilly at the man who occupied the seat opposite her.
"Well now at least we know that it wasn't the girlfriend. Or the other girlfriend." Jane smirked.
"Shut up, Jane." Lisbon sighed. "That was our only angle. Why else would he have felt like his life was in so much danger, he was waiting for the killer with a gun."
"Oh, Lisbon you amateur. He wasn't waiting for the killer; the killer put the gun there to make it look like suicide."
"But the bullet that he was shot with came from another gun." Lisbon stated.
Jane just nodded and looked towards Rigsby's desk. "Hmmm." He abruptly stood up and made his way out of the kitchenette, leaving Lisbon to almost drown in her sorrows, until...
He was leaning over her shoulders, both of his hands flat on the table in front of her, his breath tickling her ear. Her eyes widened in initial shock, before retreating back to their normal size. Her breath quickened slightly, not noticeable to most people, except Jane. She knew he'd sensed her pace of breath when he chuckled softly into her ear.
"Are you going to tell me why you were late this morning?" He whispered.
Lisbon gulped, not completely trusting herself to use a basic skill that most people had called 'speech'. She shivered inwardly.
"Why should I?" She questioned, trying to regain her composure.
"It's not another man I hope." He stated seductively.
Lisbon almost relaxed and leaned back into him. Almost.
"W-why?" She stuttered.
He chuckled again. "You know that you can talk to me if something's bothering you, right?"
"Mm-hm." Lisbon nodded.
"Good girl." He stated, and then he was gone.
Yep, this was going to be a really long day.