.

A/N: Hi! Donna here! I'm so grateful for everyone who is taking a chance on this unusual fic. Thanks to Hayseed, for her outstanding first chapter (as well as her inspired idea). I hope I give you a satisfying follow up.

Chapter 2

Teresa Lisbon-Jane glanced from the body of the recently departed Mr. Edwards to her husband, who was giving poor Ms. Miller the third degree about the deceased. She could see his mind working much like it always had—sharp as a tack, quick as a wink. While Lisbon was occasionally forgetful, Jane never was, and it annoyed her sometimes that he always knew where she'd left her key card, or her shoes, or her phone. It wasn't as if he lorded his steel-trap brain over her; she knew it was her disappointment in herself that made her cranky when he stealthily (and lovingly)slipped her lost key into her hand.

Now, with an intriguing new mystery to solve, her husband was happy as a clam, a gleeful expression on his face that a million extra-hard Sudoku puzzels could not provoke. Lisbon would bet a million bucks Alice Miller thought Jane strange for being so delighted to find a dead, possibly murdered body in the sitting room of the quiet retirement facility.

"See, Ms. Miller," he was saying, "you can tell by the position of the body that he was dragged here. I'm guessing that whoever killed the poor guy did so in a place that might implicate the murderer. All you need do, I imagine, is pull up the security video for this room—"

Alice frowned. "That might be a problem," the assistant administrator countered. "Yesterday, we had that electrical surge, remember? All the security cameras went offline and wouldn't come back on. Our tech guy isn't due here until tomorrow morning."

"Ah-ha!" said Jane, with an excited clap. Alice jumped involuntarily. "That narrows things down a bit. I imagine only this facility's employees would be aware the cameras weren't working."

Alice's eyes were drawn to the location of the hidden camera in the northeast corner of the sitting room, then back at Jane in wonder. "Well…yes, you're right. But it must be a-"

"Coincidence?" Jane finished wryly. "No such thing. I'm afraid, Ms. Miller, that a member of your staff killed Mr. Edwards. Just give me two minutes with each of them, and I'll suss out your killer for you, lickety split."

While Lisbon agreed with everything her husband had said, they were no longer in law enforcement. And while she was naturally intrigued, this wasn't their problem. The police would be there any minute, and it would be up to the proper authorities to solve this thing. Besides, too much excitement wasn't good for Jane's heart.

"Jane," she said softly. He turned immediately to her, ever vigilant of her needs and desires, especially after her recent surgery. He stepped over the body and moved across the room where she sat in her wheelchair. Ms. Miller met the police in the doorway.

"Yes, my love," he said, reaching for her hand.

"Tone it down a bit, will you?" she said under her breath. "Ms. Miller is going to think you're a ghoul."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Meh. I'm just a crazy old coot who does magic tricks. Harmless."

Lisbon raised an eyebrow. Had he no concept of how charismatic, how compelling he still was? Lord knows he was still incredibly handsome. But then she caught the familiar sparkle in his eye. He knew full well the effect he still had on people. Especially female people.

"Well," she said, playing along, "she called the police at your suggestion; she must take you a little bit seriously."

"She's just covering her ass," he said. "Wouldn't want there to be a suggestion of a cover-up at the good old Oceanside."

"You're such a cynic," said Lisbon.

He shrugged, just as a police officer came over to speak to them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jane?"

"That's us," said Jane.

"Ms. Miller says you have an interesting theory about Mr. Edwards here."

"Yeah," said Jane. "He was murdered."

"And why do you think that, sir?"

There was an air of condescension in his tone that Lisbon knew grated on her husband, and she watched his eyes narrow in annoyance.

"Because obviously he wasn't killed here." He repeated what he'd told Alice in a tone that was equally condescending. Lisbon struggled between amusement and embarrassment—a familiar state for her when she was with Jane in a public place. And so it had been for forty years. And as usual, Lisbon felt the need to smooth things over.

"Officer, I'm Teresa Lisbon Jane. My husband and I worked for the California Bureau of Investigation, and then the FBI in Austin for years. We've seen more murders than either of us could count—"

Jane opened his mouth as if to interrupt with an exact number, but one look from Lisbon and he shut it again…and grinned.

"I'm sure upon closer examination, you'll see my husband is correct. This was a murder. I suggest you get your top people on it while the trail is still hot, and, God forbid, before anyone else gets hurt."

The officer, perhaps thirty years old, looked from Lisbon to Jane and back again, trying to determine if they weren't just a couple of senile old busybodies. He decided instead to be suspicious.

"Do you know anything you're not telling me, Mr. Jane, about what might have happened here?"

"Not at all. But I do know that you are having some trouble with your new wife. She didn't bargain for all the sleepless nights while being married to a cop. Tell her it doesn't get any better, that maybe she should cut and run before you have kids."

"Jane," Lisbon practically growled.

The officer's face contorted in anger, his jaw tightening ominously.

"You two should return to your rooms," he bit out coldly. "Let us handle this. We'll contact you if we have any more questions."

"Of course, Officer," said Jane. "Have a nice day. Sweetheart? Shall we let these nice men do their jobs?"

"Yeah," said Lisbon skeptically. "Let's go."

After Jane had wheeled his wife out of the sitting room and down the hall a ways, she spoke her mind.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, Jane, don't. I don't think either of our hearts could take running from an angry murderer. Besides, I left my Glock at home."

"Horse feathers, my love," he contradicted affectionately. "You don't go anywhere without your sidearm. I saw it in that shoebox beneath those white sandals you never wear."

"Well, you can never be too careful…"

He pushed her into the rec room near the lobby and squatted on creaky legs before her, his hands going to the arms of the wheelchair. It was fairly empty in the rec room that time of day, when most of the tenants were taking their afternoon siestas. Still, a few sat at a table playing cards, and some dozed in their chairs by a window overlooking the ocean. Jane looked up into Lisbon's green eyes, the deep laugh lines around them only enhancing her beauty, in his mind.

"You saw the way that cop was looking at us, Lisbon. He's shutting this thing down and you know it. I'll bet whatever poison (which I suspect killed Edwards), will be attributed to an accidental overdose or something equally obvious. Or more likely, they won't be able to find anything on a preliminary examination, so they'll just end it there and rule it natural causes. But you and I both know differently, don't we? All we have to do is keep an eye on the staff here. No one will quit right away to avoid suspicion, so a few well-placed, innocent questions, and I'll guess the killer before Wednesday night bingo."

She sighed. He really wanted this, so of course he was going to pursue it. But she had to admit she loved the way his eyes were sparkling with barely contained excitement. She'd been right in telling him all those years ago, that he loved and needed the mental stimulation of a good mystery.

"Fine," she relented. "But if you get us kicked out of here, Jane, so help me…"

"Aw, come on, Lisbon. Methinks ye doth protest too much." He leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the lips. "Admit it. You're just as curious about the killer's identity as I am. "

"Well," she said, smiling, color rising in her cheeks. After all these years, he still had the power to make her blush when he looked at her like that. "I suppose I am. But a fine team we'll make, with me in this contraption."

"Don't worry. It'll be just like 'Rear Window,' only you'll be Jimmy Stewart." He grinned mischievously.

"And you'll be Grace Kelly," she said with a laugh, imagining it. Then her face fell when she remembered what that character had done in the movie. "Only, I will kill you if you take it upon yourself to sneak into the murderer's lair by yourself." She lowered her voice. "I've got a gun, remember?"

"Yes, Boss," he teased at her familiar chastising tone.

Jane stood then, his hand going to his lower back as he stretched his slightly stiff muscles. Small things like that were good reminders that he wasn't a young man anymore, despite how young he felt in his mind.

"Well, as long as you're obeying my orders, take me back to our room so we can call Austin. He said he'd be available about this time."

"Certainly," he said, moving to push her chair back into the corridor. "He owes a conversation with his dear old dad. I'm getting jealous of all this attention he's paying to you."

"Oh, pshaw. He idolizes you and you know it. I'm the one who has to vie for his attention all the time. It took knee replacement surgery to get him to notice me again."

It was an old and amusing argument, reminiscent of the Mom Always Liked You Best skit from the Smothers Brothers.

Their son, Austin, was a captain in the Marine Corps, stationed in Australia. He had been extremely concerned about his mother's recent surgery, especially when he couldn't get leave to come home, so he was counting on their video calls so he could see her progress for himself.

The moment they entered their unit, the video phone beeped for attention, and Jane pressed the button on the wall screen. Austin's face appeared, his smile wide and bright like his father's, but with the added charm of his mother's dimples. His hair was dark like Lisbon's had once been, the natural wave from both his parent's under control only through his short-clipped military cut. His eyes were a vivid sea green like Jane's, beautifully enhanced by the darkness of his tan from his time in the southern hemisphere.

"Hey Mom and Dad!"

"Hi, Son," they replied in unison.

They spoke of unimportant things for several minutes, catching up, neither Jane nor Lisbon speaking of the murder by mutual, silent consent. No sense worrying him even more.

"I'll have leave in a month," he told them. "Maybe by then you'll be up for a jog, Mom."

She laughed. "I'll hold you to that."

"Notice I didn't even bother making the offer to Dad this time."

"I'm afraid that ship sailed long ago," Lisbon replied, glancing at her husband. But her eyes still lit in appreciation of how fit he still appeared.

"Why jog when you can feel just as refreshed after a lovely stroll on the beach? Besides, you can't jog in a three-piece suit." Jane said, not the least bit offended.

"Right," said Austin.

"What have you heard from Maddie?" Jane asked, changing the subject.

They watched their son flush with embarrassment. Maddie Rigsby was three years older than Austin (the middle daughter of Grace and Wayne) but they were both in their late twenties, so the age difference didn't seem important. Well, at least not to Austin. It was convincing Maddie that it didn't matter that was the real challenge. Still, they spoke nearly every day, saw each other whenever he made it back to California, or whenever the two families got together around the holidays.

"She's still resisting me, Dad," he said sheepishly.

"What? I refuse to believe that. You're a Jane, Son. You need to stop skimping on the charm. Don't be afraid to go at her with both barrels. That's what I did with your mother. I chased her down until she caught me."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Why is it that the only thing you can't remember well is how you put off telling me your feelings until the very last possible minute?"

"I told you at the exact right time, Lisbon. I mean, you got off the plane before it took off, didn't you?"

Austin grinned, watching his parents argue and banter over this story for the millionth time. They never seemed to grow tired of it. He hoped one day he would find a love as deep and lasting as his parents'. He was a hopeless romantic (a trait he believed he got from his father), and he still had faith that Maddie Rigsby would someday realize they were soul mates.

Jane suddenly leaned closer to the screen, and said, soto voce: "You could always use that little trick I taught you."

"Jane!" Lisbon gasped. "Austin, I forbid you even thinking of hypnotizing her. Wayne and Grace are our oldest and dearest friends. You will not manipulate their daughter in any way, understand?"

Austin tried not to laugh. His mother in boss mode was a sight to behold. He was a decorated captain in the Marine Corps, and she still had the power to reduce him to feelling like a little boy.

"Yes, ma'am," said Austin solemnly.

Her voice softened then, and she glanced up at her husband, while she seemed suddenly to have drifted off, far into the past.

"Trust me," she said dreamily, "if it's meant to be, it will be worth waiting for."

Jane stepped back from the video phone and took his wife's hand, bending to bring it to his lips. "How do you know I haven't been hypnotizing you all these years?"

"I would know," she said, smiling into his eyes. "I know all your tricks by now."

Austin cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but duty calls in about ten minutes. I'd better go."

"All right, Son," said Jane, feeling the mistiness in his eyes he always felt when saying good-bye to his only child. He'd grown very sentimental in his old age. "Keep making us proud."

"I will, Dad. I love you both."

"Good-bye, Sweetheart," said Lisbon. And the screen went blank.

"He's looking thin," said Lisbon, her brows knitting in concern.

"He's fine," said Jane, putting his hands gently on his wife's shoulders. "We'll see him soon."

Of course, he'd given this reassurance for both of their benefits; he sometimes still felt a bit panicked, like he had when Austin was a child. After losing Charlotte many years ago, he tended to be overprotective to an extreme, but Lisbon, who had seen all her brothers grown safely into men, served as a calming influence upon him. Lisbon squeezed his hands, infusing him with that comfort once more without saying a word.

"Well," he said, eyeing the couch in the small living room. "I'm going to take a nap. The real investigation can't begin until the cops leave anyway."

Lisbon nodded. "You go ahead. I want to finish my next chapter."

She was writing her memoirs, a labor of love and pain that was a year in the making so far. Her hunt for Red John, her experiences in the CBI and FBI made for some very interesting reading. She'd been in touch with an interested I-Publisher, and there was even talk of development into a weekly retro video series.

Jane had been sleeping an hour when the doorbell rang. He yawned and stretched and glanced over at his wife, who had fallen asleep in her chair before her ancient laptop.

He went to the door, glanced at the security monitor to see a familiar old face: Virgil Minelli.

"Virgil!" He said, when the door slid open. "Come in, come in!"

The older man, though twenty years his senior, had blue eyes as sharp as ever, though he walked with a cane and shuffled slowly into the Janes' apartment.

"So," he said, his voice still strong, still just as cantankerous, "Not here a month and already you two brought trouble with you."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed my contribution. Back to the wonderful Hayseed Socrates to see what she can do with the mess I left. Thanks for reading!