Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist or its characters.
Thanks for all the positive feedback! It made me smile. And apparently it was also inspiring as I already finished the second chapter. I'm usually a rather lazy writer. But I had some time on my hands and really felt like continuing with the story, so... I'm sure you won't complain about the fast update.
I've got a stitch when I reach the end of the stairs. For a moment I allow myself to stop, gasping for breath. Frank, the security guard, throws a peculiar look in my direction, probably deliberating whether he should call for medical attendance. Or for the men from the funny farm to take me away. He never liked me.
Straightening up, I smile at him disarmingly. As disarmingly as it is possible when your lungs almost collapse. "Cardio training." He knits his brows. Not the desired effect. "No need to worry, I'm fine."
With a weak wave of my hand I leave the building, only to see Lisbon's car exiting the parking lot to the right. I silently curse my lack of fitness as I run to my car.
There's no sign of Lisbon as I finally hit the road. If she's heading for her apartment, as I think she is, then she very likely turned left at the first intersection. So I veer into the same direction, cutting off two other cars in the process, and make it over the junction a split second before the traffic light switches to red. I exhale relieved at the sight of Lisbon's dark SUV a couple of cars ahead. There's heavy traffic and it'll be easier to keep track of her now.
My plan of action isn't entirely concocted yet. Right now, I'm merely acting on impulse, triggered by Lisbon's unusual behavior earlier. Following my hunches most likely leads to the desired result in the end. Which is in this case primarily revealing the identity of Lisbon's assumed boyfriend. And maybe interfering with the relationship if necessary. This weekend might be my best chance. A laugh, an 'I love you' and a 'honey' isn't much to base an investigation upon or to justify a car chase, but since I would otherwise brood over the situation all weekend, taking action seems like the better option.
A couple of cars turn left and right, leaving only three cars between Lisbon and me. For the first time ever I regret owning such a flashy car. I slow down a little, allowing a truck at a gas station to pull onto the road. The street in front of Lisbon is clearing and she's gradually speeding up. She must be well above the speed-limit now. I'm quite certain that she's not going so fast because she noticed me. Who would have thought that off-duty Lisbon is a speeder? I'll so use that knowledge against her the next time she accuses me of driving too fast. Already finding out one well-hidden vice of her at the very beginning of my investigation confirms that my mission is indeed a good idea.
The truck directly in front of me exits, so I slow down and follow Lisbon at a more discreet distance for the next few miles. As the subject of my observation makes a left, entering the street where she lives, I slowly pull over to wait a minute or two. The guy behind me honks furiously, but I don't care. The parking lot of Lisbon's apartment building is very close to the road and I don't want to risk her spotting me. I really hope she hasn't already.
When I think it's safe to go on, I pull into Lisbon's street and look out for her home on the right side. I brake hard when I notice her still standing outside the building. Momentarily I think that my cover is blown and she waits for me to kick my ass like never before. But no, her attention isn't focused on me – she is talking to a guy. I should feel relieved, but instead my hackles raise when I imagine this to be the guy.
Come on, this would be way too easy, wouldn't it?
I park my Citroen on the side of the road and proceed on foot to get a better look. While I move closer to Lisbon's house, I'm thankful that she chose a neighborhood where the pavements are lined with bushes to hide behind.
The guy sports a dark ponytail, is about two heads taller than Lisbon and wears black, tight pants and a black shirt. Both of them are smiling. Shoot me now if this is 'honey'. Now he's placing an unidentifiable object in Lisbon's palm and holds on to her hand a moment too long for my taste. To my relief, Lisbon seems pretty uncomfortable with the physical contact as well.
Just as I consider stepping up to them, putting my arm around Lisbon's waist and introducing myself as her fiancé to Mr. Ponytail, a blonde woman carrying a vanity case exits the building and immediately grabs hold of the guy's hand. She and Lisbon exchange a few words and Lisbon holds up the object the guy gave her – keys, as I can make out now. Aha! Mr. Ponytail and Blondie are Lisbon's neighbors who are going on vacation and want Lisbon to water their plants or whatever it is neighbors do for each other. The guy says something to Lisbon and the woman tightens her grip around his hand in response. Interesting. Blondie feels threatened by Lisbon. She trusts her with her property, but not with her man. Calm down, woman. Lisbon isn't interested and she would have that guy begging for mercy within seconds if he'd ever dare to really make a pass at her.
Finally the couple heads for their car and Lisbon, after checking her mailbox, enters the house. A woman pushing a stroller walks past me and throws a disapproving glare at me. I straighten up and pretend to intensely read a flyer at a nearby lamppost, regarding a missing cat, until the woman stops staring and Lisbon's neighbors drive past me. Huh, poor Muffin is already missing for 7 days now.
I examine the exterior of the house and its surroundings, looking for a secluded spot for my car. I've been inside Lisbon's apartment only once. I was early to pick her up for a work trip and instead of waiting in the car, I sneaked in when someone else left the building. When I knocked at the door of her apartment she was too surprised to keep me from entering, but only a minute later she was ready to go. But that visit gave me enough time to be sure now, that the right window on the front of the house in the topmost floor belongs to her living room.
I get back to my car and drive it to a place where it should be hardly visible from Lisbon's apartment or the front door, but I still get a decent look through some bushes.
Now it's waiting for either Lisbon leaving the house or for someone showing up to visit her. At the same time I can't help hoping that nothing will happen and Lisbon will really only have a nice, relaxing weekend all by herself.
After 5 minutes I realize that I'm not properly equipped for a stakeout. I didn't even bring snacks.
9 minutes later I notice that Lisbon's neighborhood is awfully quiet. Not one car entered the street since I arrived, which isn't really surprising though as it is a dead-end. The lady I saw earlier when I read about Muffin's fate remains the only passer-by so far.
37 minutes into the observation the incipient darkness causes Lisbon to switch on the lights in her living room. Tenants of two other apartments follow her example.
11 minutes later a guy walking zigzag approaches the house. He has a key. Some anxious minutes I wonder if he ended up at Lisbon's place. But finally the lights in the right downstairs apartment go on. He probably only had trouble finding the keyhole and the light switch in his intoxicated condition.
Another 35 minutes pass before the next person nears the building. It's a pizza guy. Maybe Lisbon celebrates the beginning of her weekend with pizza. Or the drunk guy ordered some hangover food. At the thought of pizza, my stomach rumbles to remind me that lunch was the last meal I had.
Meanwhile it is 8:43 PM and I doubt that Lisbon will go out tonight. But you never know if someone will pay her a late-night visit.
Frankly though, this surveillance is boring. I usually love nightly stakeouts at a suspect's house. But then we always have food and someone else, usually Lisbon, is in the car with me for talking and playing mind games and occasionally fighting for the control over the car radio. Once she fell asleep and even watching her nap and later pretending I hadn't noticed her slip-up was entertaining. Alone, this is no fun.
I get out of the car to go for a little walk. A cinnamon cat crosses my path as I make my way over to Lisbon's house. While I wonder if this cat might be the missing Muffin, the fire ladders suddenly catch my attention. Interesting. There are two of them on both sides of the front of the house. They are simple, straight ladders going from the ground to the roof and are dangerously close to the living room windows. Burglars' paradise. Some of the windows are open. Lisbon's isn't. Working in crime fighting, she knows better. My hand touches the cool metal of the ladder on Lisbon's side of the building. A little rusty, but otherwise this thing seems pretty stable.
Without allowing reason to prevail I step onto the ladder. Two treads later I am able to look inside the intoxicated guy's window. He's smoking and talking on the phone, his feet resting next to an almost empty pizza box on the table.
Holding on to the ladder, I ponder my options: The reasonable one would be going back to my car and sitting and watching in mind-numbing darkness all night. Or, I could climb up that ladder and have a quick look at Lisbon to maybe find out what her further plans for tonight are.
Well...
Plan B, definitely.
The thought of fully climbing up that ladder excites me. I am PI Jane, out on a dangerous mission to save a damsel in distress. But reality bites midway: more than anything else, this feels like a grown man crawling up a shabby jungle gym at a playground.
When I finally reach the level of Lisbon's window, my aching hands are almost unable to hold on anymore. And to complete my misery: As I peek into the room, it is empty. Since it is still illuminated, she must come back eventually, so I hope.
I alternate between hands, one always clinging to the ladder, the other relaxing. Yes, this way I can bear this a while longer. Finally Lisbon reappears, looking wonderful in a fluffy, orange bathrobe and her hair loosely pinned up. She must have just taken a bath.
As she starts to apply lotion to her legs, I get nervous.
As she continues with her feet and massages them I feel a lump forming in my throat.
As she puts away the bottle of lotion and starts unfastening the belt of her robe, I nearly let go of the ladder.
As the cloth slowly slips down her body and reveals her bare shoulders and back, I know I'm in deep trouble.
I don't want to see her naked, not like this. I couldn't forgive myself to invade her privacy at such a rate that I wouldn't be able to ever look her in the eyes again. But I am paralyzed, unable to move or even to close my eyes.
After some endless seconds of self-torture and emotional turmoil Lisbon releases me by stepping out of the room and leaving the continuation of her body care to my imagination. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. Sure, I wanted excitement, but sitting in my car down there seems pretty comfortable now.
After a while I cautiously throw one last glance into the room and see Lisbon entering again. Dressed in striped pajama bottoms and a blue tank top, carrying a bottle of wine and one glass. She inserts a DVD into the player, curls up on the couch and sets my mind to ease as I realize that at least for tonight I don't have to worry about some guy stealing her away from me. I take in her relaxed and content features and memorize this picture.
Then I'm ready to finally climb down that damn ladder again. It goes surprisingly well. Tread after tread after tread I make my way down...and trip at the third to last one. I graze my right hand, the phone in my pocket hits the floor, followed by my body.
Quickly I struggle to my feet and scan the grass for my phone, as the thing draws attention to itself by ringing and flashing up. Good timing for someone calling me. But one look at the display vastly reduces my delight. I contemplate throwing my phone away and running for my life as the cute deer-in-the-headlights photo of Lisbon, that I took of her earlier this week, reveals the caller's identity.
Oh well, I might just as well except my fate and get my wipe-down right away.
"Hello?" I answer warily while walking back to my car, already thinking of excuses I could give her for my inexcusable behavior.
"Hey, Jane." She does sound friendly. That's good. Or it's a trap. "Could you do me a favor?"
I doubt she wants me to help her with that lotion. I clear my throat. "Anytime."
"You know, I just remembered that I forgot to check the coffee maker before leaving the office. Nobody else ever does and I'm not sure I switched it off this afternoon. I'm 99 percent sure that I did, but that 1 percent is really bothering me. And you know how Minelli is when it comes to fire control and job safety. I really don't want to be responsible for torching the CBI building."
That is not what I expected. My mood brightens immensely. "Okay... And you want me to do what now? Use telekinesis to switch the coffee maker off?"
"No." She actually chuckles. "I'm too lazy to drive to the office now, but since you spend the night there anyway, could you please check for me?"
"I'm not spending the night in the office! " How does she know stuff like that?
"Oh come on, sure you do. Whenever we have a few days off, you bring a traveling bag to work. And on the first workday afterwards all the food in the refrigerator is gone and you are there on time for once."
I had no idea I was being so obvious. But I'm too grateful that she doesn't know where I am right now to deny it any further. Teasing her a little bit is irresistible though. "So you call because you are worried for my safety?"
"Could you please just go look?!" I grin. That's the Lisbon I know.
I am silent for the time it would take me to get from my couch to the kitchen. "It's off."
"Great. Thank you."
"Lisbon?"
"Yes?"
Can I come by and cuddle up to you on the couch and make us both forget about that other guy you might be seeing? "Nothing. Good night, Lisbon." Coward.
"Good night, Jane." She softly says before hanging up and leaving me to cope on my own with my misdemeanors and missed chances of this day.
I drive through town to my house to get some stuff. My overnight bag is already at the office, but I need some snack food and binoculars and disguise for tomorrow's observation. If you thought I'll give up now, think again. Today's events might have been confusing and I might have gone astray a couple of times, but I also feel like I've never seen clearer before.
I'll find out if Lisbon is dating someone and I'll take the action needed when I know all the facts. I could add 'and if it's the last thing I ever do ', but that would be a little too lofty.
Half an hour later I arrive at the CBI. Luckily, Frank got meanwhile replaced by another security guard.
I put my bag next to the couch and then go to the kitchen. The coffee maker is indeed off. The refrigerator has a surprisingly good selection today. I toy with the idea that Lisbon might have stocked up on supplies, knowing that I'd stay here. Nah. Or did she?
My couch is waiting for me, but somehow I don't feel as soothed as usually when I lay down on the worn leather. I don't expect deep sleep, but snoozing for a while would be nice.
When I still don't feel relaxed enough for a nap almost an hour later, I get up again, walk over to Lisbon's office and settle down in her chair. Funny, there are very few personal items in her office, but still I can feel her presence in the room almost physically. I lean back and swivel from one side to the other as I saw her do this afternoon. I look at the photos of dogs on her desk, her neatly stored away pens... Then I see the telephone and mentally slap myself for not thinking of this earlier. I push the redial button, but seeing my own cell phone number on the display puts a damper on my enthusiasm. Of course. Lisbon had called me before starting to write her report to ask something case related while I was hiding out in the cafeteria. So the mysterious phone call was an incoming one. I'm sure it's possible to trace those as well, but unfortunately I never pay attention to stuff like that. If I don't find anything out this weekend, I might ask Van Pelt for help on Monday.
Just as I settle back again for a nap, a half-open drawer of the desk catches my attention. Searching through it seems a minor violation compared to what I already did today. Work stuff. More work stuff. Boring. Ooh, Lisbon's vacation form. Interesting. She requested and was permitted two weeks of vacation starting in 10 days. I can't remember her ever taking so many days off at once. Plus, shouldn't she mention this to the team? Who will be her stand-in? And most importantly: What has she planned for those two weeks? And who is she making those plans with?
Lisbon and the mysterious caller are still haunting me as I slowly doze off. Oh well, tomorrow's another day.
PI Jane needs some rest now.
