PATRICK, the next day in his attic
It's early morning. I'm in the attic, sitting in my chair, looking at the new board I've put up. Nine dead women. Nine corsages. Each with a different number on its gift card.
Lisbon bangs on the door. "It's open," I yell. She slides the massive door. I hear her sharp intake of breath when she sees my new murder board encrusted as it is with photos and notes and pressed flowers. "Why are you trying to solve this case on your own, Jane? We're partners, remember? Let me help you."
I swivel in my chair and face her. "Oh, I identified the killer weeks ago, Lisbon." She kicks my chair. "You son of a bitch. Why didn't you tell me?" "Because if I told you, Lisbon, I'd have to tell you things that you might not be able to handle." She bares her teeth and clenches her fists. "Don't you dare do this, Jane. I'm an officer of the law and I don't need your protection. Tell me or I'll kick your butt all over this attic."
I take a deep breath. "I knew the identity of the Corsage Killer right away. He's none other than Red John." "Red John?" she gasps. "How?..." She steadies herself on the edge of my desk." "Simple, Lisbon. All nine victims smelled of cherries and acacia soap." "And that would upset me...why, Jane?" I look into her eyes. "Because Lorelei and I used cherry-scented condoms and showered with acacia soap."
Lisbon looks sick. She jumps up. "I forgot I have another meeting, Jane. I...I can't talk to you right now." She slips through the door. I hear the clatter of her shoes moving too fast down the steep stairs.