Thought of the day 11/01/17: I hate that my non-FF editors keep making me cut out all my adverbs and adjectives. And I like that adverbs are often necessary and useful in FF, instead of a terrible hindrance. Adverbs fo lyf, yo!
A/N Next chapter is almost done too, but I keep drinking too much wine and now I need a lot of editing time, probably shouldn't have got overexcited and published before I did a decent edit. Oops. I'll be moving onto some more relationship/character development soon, it's not going to be fun and games forever!
Thanks to those who have left reviews, really appreciate it (especially because it's my first time on this site).
We watch camera footage from the room next door. God knows when all this was set up, and by whom. Van Pelt, perhaps?
Professor Gallagher is only mildly surprised to find Cho in his motel room when he arrives.
"Rigsby is more his type, but Cho is the only one that wasn't at the charity ball," Jane had explained. "He won't recognise him."
Cho barely looks up when Gallagher walks in.
"Hello," he says.
"You're a bit diferent than what I expected," Gallagher replies. Cho nods.
"What the hell is going on?" I ask Jane.
He puts a finger to his lips and points to the screen. "Just watch."
"A man of few words, I like that," Gallagher says, moving to sit on the bed.
"How the hell did you get Cho to do this?" I ask Jane. It seems that Agent Cho is posing as an escort. The thought almost makes me laugh out loud.
Cho glares straight at the camera as Gallagher puts a hand on his shoulder.
"He doesn't hate it as much as you think," Jane says to me. "He's quite the actor."
"Sure," I reply. "How long is this going to go on?"
"Patience, Lisbon."
Luckily for Cho, Gallagher doesn't make any overt moves. Instead, he chats about his day. Cho says very little, but gives him the occasional nod. Eventually Gallagher stands up and takes off his coat.
"So, payment up front?" He asks, beginning to unzip his trousers. I can see Cho visibly slump with relief.
"Peter Gallagher, you're under arrest for solicitation."
Jane leans back and grins at me. "There we go."
"What do you mean, there we go?" I ask. "How does this help us find Redmond's killer?"
"Isn't it obvious, Lisbon?" he says with a smirk.
I think for a moment, then curse my own stupidity. "Redmond's a gigolo. Gallagher hired him."
"Yes, very good, Lisbon. He would never have told us if we hadn't caught him in the act."
We look back at the screen as Cho is handcuffing the professor. Cho gives us a thumbs up into the camera, and we exit the room and put Gallagher in the back of my car.
"You can't prove anything," Gallagher tells us sullenly as we drive away. "I just wanted someone to talk to, nothing else."
"Lucky you have us to talk to then," Jane replies.
When we get back to the bullpen, Fischer is sitting on Jane's couch.
He gasps audibly and stands in front of her. "Well, this is highly irregular."
"It's a big couch, Jane. Take a seat, I won't bite."
He furrows his brow, then finally sits beside her.
He writhes around and makes unappreciative noises. "It's not the same. I need to lie down."
"Oh for God's sake," she says, standing up.
"If you like it so much you should get your own," He says to her, lying down with his arms crossed over his chest. "I could help you pick one out, I can't imagine you understand comfort particularly well."
"I don't need a couch, it was just somewhere to sit," She says to him, but a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
"Okay then, call me if you need me." He shuts his eyes. Fischer looks at me questioningly. I shrug.
"That's it? You're not going to question Gallagher?" She asks him.
He dismisses her with a wave of his hand. "That's your job, Kim. I'm just a consultant."
I hide a smirk and head to the interrogation room where Cho has taken the professor. Fischer follows me.
"What's the deal with all the naps?" She asks me.
"I have no idea. I guess he thinks his brilliance isn't required right now."
We smile at each other. She's not so bad. I feel a bit sorry for her, I remember what it's like trying to reign Jane in.
"Maybe I should get a couch after all," She says, glancing back at him. "He looks comfortable."
"Well, he's admitted to hiring Redmond, but we've got nothing else on him," Fischer says.
"You can let him go, he didn't do it," Jane says from the couch.
"We're not letting him go, he's got motive. Plus we can probably make the solicitation charges stick."
Jane sits up and sighs. "Well okay, keep him here then. But he didn't do it. We just needed him to admit that he had a thing with Redmond, now we can put the next part of the plan into motion."
"What plan?" Fischer says, throwing her hands in the air.
"Yeah, what plan," I ask him.
He smiles knowingly at me, and stands. "You need to visit the good professor's wife," he tells Fischer.
"Me?" She asks.
"Yeah, you. Lisbon and I have other plans."
"We do?" I ask.
"Yes," he says. "Lunch first though. I'm a bit peckish."
He stands and beckons for me to follow. I look to Fischer for approval but she just shrugs. Maybe she's given up already.
"Well I guess I'll go see Mrs. Gallagher then," she mutters as we begin to leave.
"You do that, Kim. And good luck to you," Jane says, holding out his fist. "Pound it out."
Fischer glares at him.
"No?" Jane says. "Okay then. See you later."
"We're not really going for lunch," he tells me as we get on the elevator.
"Oh," I say, a bit disappointed. I'm actually quite hungry.
"We can get something on the way if you want?" He asks.
"No, it doesn't matter. Where are we going?"
"We'll get something on the way," he says with a nod.
Jane pulls my seat out for me and gestures for me to sit. He orders for me- lasagne. It's what I would have ordered anyway. The gesture is flattering and annoying all at once.
He sits beside me, arm draped over the back of my chair again.
"Is this going to be a regular thing? Taking me out for meals?" I ask him with a smile.
"If you want," he replies.
"Well, once in a while couldn't hurt," I say. I am in an unusually good mood. Perhaps it's the satisfaction of seeing Jane terrorize someone else for once. And here I am having a nice lunch, while Fischer is chasing up his loose ends.
"So," I say between mouthfuls. "Where are we going after lunch?"
"Oh, we're going to help Fischer with the questioning. I could see you were hungry, and I wanted her to get the boring cop work out of the way before we get there."
I let myself laugh, but I quicken my eating and insist that we get back on the road as soon as possible.
"Ah Lisbon, live a little," he tells me as I shove him towards the car.
"I ate my lunch didn't I?"
He gets in the car, grumbling as he does up his seat belt. "I hadn't even had dessert."
"Who the hell has dessert at lunchtime?" I ask.
He stares at me, horrified. "Me, Lisbon! Me!"
"Okay, calm down. Where do I turn off?"
I secretly send Fischer a pity text when we are a few minutes away. I know what it's like to be unpleasantly surprised by Patrick Jane.
She greets us at the door and smiles at us as if nothing is wrong.
"How is the questioning?" he asks her.
"It's going well, thank you," she replies. "Come on in."
We follow her into a garish dining room adorned with dark red curtains and matching chairs. Jane raises his eyebrows at me and I nod back at him. Who the hell decorated this?
Fischer and I sit down at the seats offered to us by Mrs Gallagher, but Jane remains standing. She looks worn, much older than her husband.
"Is this going to take much longer," she says. "I know about my husbands... hobby. I always have."
Jane walks out in front of us. "I'll take this, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," Fischer says dryly.
"Does it bother you, the affairs? The escorts?" Jane asks Mrs. Gallagher.
She sighs. "Not anymore."
"Very well," he says. "Could I possibly use your bathroom, if it's not too much trouble?"
She gestures down the hallway with a tired nod.
"That was brief," Fischer mutters under her breath.
He disappears. Solving crimes in bathrooms, solving crimes in kitchens, no place is sacred when it comes to him.
I let Fischer take the lead again, as I have no idea what she has already asked. It seems to me like another dead end, but Jane obviously only wanted to come here to look around, so we draw it out for a while.
"Do you and your husband ever talk about his lovers?" Fischer asks.
"No."
"Does he ever bring his lovers here?"
"No."
All we are achieving is making her close up.
I shake my head at Fischer. "I'm going to find Jane."
He has his head and shoulders fully entrenched in a wardrobe when I find him.
"Are you almost done?"
He jerks out of the closet holding a little bag of material scraps, and a sewing kit. Without a word, he pours the bag onto the ground and starts rummaging through. Finally he finds his prize.
"Voila!" he says, showing me a scrap of material identical to the cloth used in James Redmond's and Professor Gallagher's suits. "She made the suits. Seems she has met James after all."
"This is good, Jane. It's evidence of something, I guess. But she has an alibi, it hardly proves that she's a murderer," I say.
"No," he replies, raising his index finger in the air. "But it proves that she's lying. And we're going to find out why."
He pockets the scrap of material and heads to the door, then turns his head back to me. "Just... just not right now. Come on, let's go."
I gesture at the mess he has made on the floor. "Are you going to tidy that up?"
"Nope," he replies. I dutifully follow him out, feeling even more like a bumbling sidekick. I'm starting to miss being the boss.
Fischer refuses to talk to him when we get back to headquarters. She confiscates the material from him and asks Rigsby to see if he can figure out where it came from, then sits at her desk in sullen silence. I don't blame her.
Jane appears moments later. His hands are behind his back and he is grinning at me.
"We're going undercover again."
I groan. "Really?"
"Yes, and I got you something." He pulls a large paper bag from behind him and presents it to me with a flourish. "You don't have to wear heels this time. Well, not if you don't want to."
It is a dress. A very tiny, tight dress. I hold it up and stare at it, then look back at Jane.
"Really?" I ask again.
He nods happily. "Yep. Go on then, get changed."
I let out an exasperated breath of air and go to find somewhere to change. This whole thing is getting ridiculous. There is something going on with him, I am sure now.
The dress fits me perfectly. Well, it fits someone perfectly my size that likes to wear tight dresses.
I walk back towards the bullpen feeling ridiculous. I refuse to let them all see me like this, so I poke me head around the side of the entrance and hiss at Jane to come over.
He grins at me. "Coming, Lisbon."
As we walk out to the car yet again, I glance over at him and catch him looking much lower than my eyes.
"Did you just..."
He immediately puts his hands up in the air and turns around. "I didn't do anything."
"You just checked me out!"
"I did nothing of the sort."
"I saw you," I say, accusingly. I know that I am meant to be mad, but I can't stop myself from smiling.
He feigns ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ohhh you can't talk your way out of this one, Patrick Jane."
"Look, I'm not saying I did anything, or looked at anything. But if I did, then you should be flattered."
"Flattered? Really, Jane?" I ask incredulously.
He nods at me. "Yes. Maybe, if someone were to look at you with an appreciative glance, you should be flattered that they think you look nice."
"Oh stop being such a.. a man, it doesn't suit you," I say, starting to get a little irritated.
He staggers back with his hand on his heart. "How dare you," He says with mock fury. "How dare you call me a man. You monster, Lisbon."
"It's true. You sound like those gross men that wolf whistle at every woman that passes."
"Fine," He says. "I'll never look at you again."
He closes his eyes and puts his hands out in front of him, feeling around like a blind man as he moves past me.
"You're ridiculous," I say, and get into the car. He continues to fumble around, throwing his body over the hood of a car as if he has tripped.
I wind down the window. "Let's get this over and done with, hurry up."
"I can't find the car," he replies.
Fine, I'll let him play. I pull an old newspaper from under my seat and stare at the words, not taking any of them in.
"I can't see," he says. He sounds closer now, but I ignore him.
Finally the passenger door opens. I don't look up, but I am greeted with a low wolf whistle.