A/N: The All-American Girls Professional Baseball League was a real thing. Millie-Rose Ziegler is fictional.

...

CHAPTER THREE

She shuffled into the bullpen, one eye barely open. Even the presence of her partner didn't garner any more attention than, "You're here early."

"Happy Monday," Frost greeted her from the copier machine. When the response was nothing more than an unintelligible grunt, he smiled. Tilting his head towards her desk, he added, "I wasn't the only one here early."

She followed his gaze and nearly tripped over her feet getting to the tall coffee that sat primly in the middle of her desk. Beside the cup was a triple chocolate brownie embossed with the label of a decadent bakery, and leaning against that was a folded note. Jane didn't know which one she wanted to open first. "Maura?" she asked Frost.

He chuckled as he collected some papers from the tray. "Who else would go out of their way to get you your favourite dessert at 8 in the morning?"

"Is that when she was here?"

"Somewhere around there," he replied. "I was in just before eight. The warrant came in on Saturday, believe it or not. Phillips gave me a call, but I figured I wasn't gonna get anyone at the phone company until today anyway." She nodded at his logic. "I went to the little boys' room and did some business before gettin' down to business, if you know what I mean-"

"Ew, Frost. I'm about to eat a brownie."

"Yeah," he laughed, "like anything I say is gonna stop you. Anyway, I came back and that was there."

She slowly unwrapped the dessert, stretching out the moment. "You didn't see her?"

"Nah. Dr. Isles is like some kinda ninja. How she manages to be stealthy in 4-inch heels, I'll never know."

The partners shared a laugh and Jane savoured the first bite of the brownie. "Omgd," she moaned.

"You two need some privacy?"

She caught a wayward crumb in the palm of her hand. "Why? You gonna sit there and watch the whole time? Perv." With a wink, she stood and took the coffee and note to the microwave. Sitting the drink inside, she set the timer and leaned against the counter.

While my gratitude for your friendship is limitless, the dessert should be appreciated in moderation.

She unclipped the phone from her hip and speed-dialled a familiar number.

"Good morning," Maura said.

"What was that for?"

"The greeting? Isn't it standard?"

"You know what I mean," Jane said. "The coffee and the brownie." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to fatten me up for the zombie apocalypse?"

Maura's laughter rolled down the line. "First, if I wanted to 'fatten you up', I would steadily feed you an increased diet of carbohydrates. So if I start buying you french fries, be suspicious. Second, who would protect me in this hypothetical apocalypse if you were out of shape?"

"Hmmm." This answer seemed to please Jane.

"In light of our conversation last night, I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you."

"Aw, Maura," Jane smiled. "Does this mean I'll get a brownie every day?"

"No," she answered. "I think for the sake of your health, I'll have to find other ways."

For the second time in two days, there was a blatant suggestiveness to Maura's comment that made Jane pause. And again, to no one's bigger surprise than her own, Jane stepped up and inched her toe over the line. Lowering her voice, she said, "Oh, really?"

The silence stretched so long between them that Jane started second-guessing herself. She was just about to throw out a humourous retraction when Maura said, "I could buy you flowers, for instance."

With an internal sigh of relief, Jane replied, "Flowers are nice."

"Perhaps a token that represents your value in my life."

"Tokens are nice."

Maura laughed again and it warmed Jane. "Maybe I could take you to dinner. We could go somewhere that doesn't require cutlery. Maybe share a dessert. Some candles and Led Zeppelin playing quietly in the background." Now it was Jane's turn to laugh. "Then perhaps after dinner, if you're feeling up to it- Good morning, Susie." Maura's voice immediately changed from sultry to professional. "I'll have those results for you shortly, Detective."

Jane heard the line disconnect and pulled the phone away from her ear. She stared at the screen as if she could divine a hint, some clue about what had just happened. She never lied to herself; she knew they had danced this particular waltz for a long time: prolonged looks, touches that lingered, laughter that co-mingled as they lay in bed together. Strictly platonic, they told themselves, though they both knew better. But this conversation, this was different. This wasn't inching over the line. This was a massive leap onto the other side.

What am I doing?

What is she doing?

What are we doing?

"I think it's hot."

Her head jerked up. "What?"

Frost nudged his chin towards the microwave. "Your coffee. I heard it beep."

"Oh, right," she said and took out the cup.

"You want to know what I found?" he asked. "Or," he added with a smirk, "are you gonna gaze at your phone all day?"

"Whatever," she said. The phone returned to its home on her hip and she walked over to his desk. "Dazzle me."

"Please," he scoffed. "I faxed the warrant to the phone company and they emailed me the records list. Not surprising, she didn't have a lot of calls in a month, going out or coming in. Delivery guy, banking by phone. But this one came up more than a handful of times." He tapped the monitor. "Matt Lancaster. Sophomore at Amherst."

Jane nodded with approval. "UMass. Nice."

"On a baseball scholarship."

"Double-nice. Have you called him yet?"

"Nah," he replied with a smile. "I was waiting for you to thank Dr. Isles for the brownie."

"How did you know I was on the phone with Maura?" Seeing his mouth open to reply, she held out a hand. "Never mind." She pulled out her phone. "What's his number?"

Frost called it out as Jane dialled, and after the fourth ring, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Is this Matt Lancaster?" she asked.

"Yeah. Who wants to know?"

She bit down her instinct to throw back a retort. What she was about to tell him might change his life forever. "I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli of the Boston Police Department," she said. "There's no easy way to ask but, did you know a Mildred Wilson?"

"Oh, God," was the only reply.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"What… I don't understand."

"I know this is very difficult, but I wonder if you could come in and identify her. We can't seem to find anyone else."

His laugh was hollow. "I'm not surprised. No one in my family wanted anything to do with her."

"So you're related?"

"She was my great-aunt." The line was quiet for a moment before he whispered again, "Oh, God."

"Could you-"

"Yeah, of course," he said. "I'm sorry. It's just… I dunno. I guess at her age, and the way she was living…" He trailed off at the end, as if uncertain how much to reveal.

Jane nodded sympathetically, even though he couldn't see the gesture. "We've seen the house. It must have been very hard."

Rather than elaborate on his thoughts, he sighed. "I'm at school right now, but I don't have classes until later this afternoon. It'll take me about 2 hours to get there."

"We really appreciate it," she said. "The officer at the front desk will help you out when you get here." She waited for the young man to end the call before slipping the phone back into its holder. "I hate those calls," she told Frost.

He nodded. "I take it he's coming in?"

"Right from Amherst." She glanced at her watch. "Should get here sometime before lunch."

"What do you want to do in the meantime?"

For the first time that morning, Jane spotted an envelope on her desk, addressed simply 'From CSRU'. Tearing open the top, she dropped a USB stick into her hand. At Frost's questioning look, she explained, "Fitz told me he'd make a copy of the photos they took at the scene."

"Looks like your two hours are filled," Frost smiled. "I suppose I could try and do a deeper check on Matt Lancaster."

"Good idea. He said she was his great-aunt, and that no one else in the family wanted anything to do with her. See how much family we're talking about. Who knows? We might get lucky."

…..

"There has to be a better word than 'shitload'." Jane leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. "I will never get through all these photos."

"Well, I've got a partial family tree," Frost offered. Standing, he walked over to the whiteboard and wrote down 'Mildred Wilson'. "She didn't have children of her own," he began, "but I worked backwards from Matt Lancaster and found at least 2 nephews and 3 nieces, Lancaster's mother being one. One nephew died in a plane crash six years ago. His son was on the plane with him." Jane grimaced. "The other nephew doesn't seem to have kids. The other 2 nieces have 2 kids each. Trying to go back from there, see if I can track down Mildred's siblings."

"Only her brother is alive," a voice spoke out.

Jane and Frost turned to the door. Quickly, Jane stood and moved to greet their visitor. "Matt Lancaster?" When he meekly nodded, she reached out and touched his shoulder. "I'm very sorry."

He slowly approached the board. "His name is Wallace. Her brother, I mean." Frost added the name. "He's at the Pine Grove Retirement Home, if that helps. Sorry. I'm babbling."

Jane gently guided him towards her desk and pulled over a chair. "You have nothing to apologize for. This must be quite a shock."

"Can I see her?"

"I'll arrange it." She made eye contact with Frost; he unclipped his phone and walked away from the pair. "When's the last time you saw Mrs. Wilson?"

Matt fidgeted with the zipper of his coat. "About two weeks ago. I used to see her more, but school started back up and I couldn't make it into Boston as much as I wanted. She was so excited about me going to UMass," he remembered wistfully. "A baseball scholarship. She was over the fuckin' moon!" He jerked his head up. "Did you find the journals?"

Jane couldn't hide her confusion. "Sorry?"

"Her journals. She would read from them every time I visited. I think it was the only time she was really happy."

Jane tried to put the question delicately. "Any idea where we might find these journals?"

His smile was a rueful one. "I know how it must have looked when you first walked in," he admitted. "But I never saw that. I just wanted to get to know her. The journals are in a small box under the kitchen sink."

"I'll get someone to have a look," she promised.

"I just realized I didn't ask what happened. I guess I assumed it was something to do with the house. It wasn't safe. I knew that."

"We're investigating all possibilities," was all Jane was willing to offer.

Her vagueness didn't go unnoticed. "What- you're thinking she might have been murdered?"

"As I said, we're investigating all possibilities."

He leaned back and shook his head. "All she had were her stories and even then, no one cared enough to listen."

"You did."

A ghost of a smile appeared. "Yeah. My fuckin' family had no idea. God, the stories! Ted Williams, Mel Parnell, Birdie Tebbetts…"

Jane tilted her head. "Red Sox players."

"Yeah," his head bobbed with joy. A slow look of realization spread across his face. "You don't know...oh, wow. You don't know. She was Millie-Rose Zeigler. She played for the South Bend Blue Sox."

"The women's professional team?" Jane asked in surprise.

"You know it?" he beamed.

She gave him a warm smile. "Some might accuse me of loving baseball too much."

He shook his head. "Not possible."

Pieces were starting to fall into place. "So that's why she was so happy you made it to UMass on a baseball scholarship."

"I loved baseball before I knew about her," he said. "I loved it even more once I got to know her. Getting the scholarship was icing on the cake for both of us."

"I bet. Listen, I have to ask - the medical examiner hasn't pinned down a time of death yet, but can you tell me your whereabouts over the last few days?"

"I can give you my class itinerary if you want it." He looked over to the board and sighed. "The irony is, I had a tournament last weekend. I might have been playing baseball when she died."

…..

"He ID'd the body," Jane said as she slumped down into her chair.

Frost frowned in sympathy. "That's never fun."

"No, no it isn't," she agreed. Resting her chin in her hand, she looked across their joined desks. "What have you been doing?"

He turned the monitor around so she could see. "Now that I've got a maiden name, I can do a more thorough search. She was really something back in the day."

She smiled. "You follow the All-American Girls' Professional Baseball League, Frost?"

He pulled the monitor back. "Hell no. But from what I've read so far, she was like the Nolan Ryan of the women's game."

The familiar staccato of heels interrupted the pair. "Hello, detectives," Maura greeted.

"Dr. Isles," Frost dipped his head.

"Dr. Isles," Jane parroted.

Shaking her head, Maura handed over a thin file. "The splinter embedded in the wound was indeed wood - Northern White Ash to be exact."

"Most popular brand of wood for baseball bats," Jane added.

"Yes. Did you know out of all the Northern White Ash harvested every year, 10% is set aside for professional baseball bats? They've experimented with other wood, but it seems this one has remained the bat of choice."

"Maple was the thing back when Barry Bonds was making his run at the record." Frost shook his head. "Everybody thought it was the bat."

"Something else you might find interesting - the lab found traces of ethylene glycol monobutyl ether on the wood." The blank responses encouraged her to clarify. "It's a solvent often used in the processing of cleaning products and ink."

Jane let out a one-note laugh. "I'm pretty certain we can rule out cleaning products."

"I wouldn't rule out anything," Maura warned, but gave a small shrug as if to concede the point.

"So what next?" Frost asked his partner.

The brunette stood and stretched. "Well, do a bit more digging on Millie-Rose Ziegler. See if there's anyone out there who would have a reason to kill her. She's gotta have something someone thought was valuable."

"I'm on it. What are you gonna do?"

"Me and Dr. Isles are heading back to the crime scene."

Maura's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah," Jane replied, slipping on her blazer. "Her nephew said she kept journals. There might be something in them."

The doctor backed away slowly. "No, no. I am not going back into that house."

Jane playfully ignored the blonde's distress. "C'mon, Maura. It'll be like immersion therapy. That works, right, Frost?"

"Oh yeah," he agreed facetiously. "Like a charm."

She took Maura's arm and guided her to the elevator. "It'll be fun!"

…..