Red Fish, Blue Fish
Chapter Twelve
Notes: My apologies for the long delay. Real life does occasionally influence my posting habits, much as I would like to deny it. If you're feeling particularly thankful you can go give Katie/ani8 a hug for prodding me until I got my arse in gear, then editing the results. She could probably use the well-wishes!
Standard disclaimers apply.
RFBF
Booth pulled into an empty parking spot at Casino Windsor a few hours later. It was too dark to conduct the rest of their investigation tonight, even if they did try to co-opt one or two of the casino's impressive flood lights.
"Do you think we'll find anything?" he asked, grabbing the two small suitcases from the back of the rental.
Bones shrugged and took off her sunglasses. "It's hard to tell. The fact that the body was buried in a construction site isn't going to help. Maybe if we pinpoint where Allison was poisoned..."
"I hate wild goose chases," he sighed. "Alright, let's go. The sooner we get to sleep the sooner we can catch the bad guy."
"We're staying here? I thought you FBI guys were on a tight living allowance." He heard what she wasn't saying: You can't stay here, it's not good for you, and was simultaneously impressed that she hadn't said it aloud, and annoyed that she thought he couldn't handle himself.
Resisting the urge to give in to either compulsion, Booth merely grinned and increased his pace towards the sky bridge. "We are. You, however, get whatever you want. So, you get the room, and I will buy you breakfast."
"Why do I feel like I'm being conned?"
Within twenty minutes they were checked in and equipped with electronic pass-keys and a few dollars' worth of complimentary slot tokens. Bones deposited them in a slot machine on the way up to the room, not even bothering to pull the lever.
Booth had to wonder about that. Temperance Brennan did everything for a reason. "Bones? Why did you throw them away?"
"I didn't," she answered, sliding her passkey into the lock. The light flashed green and she pushed the door open. "I was merely removing temptation."
His preoccupation with her odd actions dissipated when he saw the room – rooms, rather, a fairly luxurious suite for such a little nowhere city. "Nice place," he conceded, whistling through his teeth at the sizeable living room and well-appointed modern kitchen. "I obviously made the wrong career choice."
"You're very good at your job," Brennan said offhandedly, disappearing through a door to their left. Clearly she had misinterpreted what he'd said.
"Yeah, Bones, thanks." Assuming he was to sleep on the couch, he stashed his duffel under the modern coffee table and toed off his shoes. "Nice digs."
"Your room is through that door," Bones' disembodied voice notified him. "Beside the bathroom."
She does love me, Booth thought to himself dryly, picking up his bag. Talk about removing temptation.
RFBF
"You see anything?" Booth asked, shining one of Brennan's fancy flash light things over the disturbed ground of the casino expansion project.
She frowned, shaking her head. "The crime scene has been disturbed. The police, the construction workers, probably even the hotel manager have been walking all over this spot for a week. Not to mention reporters and curious teenagers," she added, pointing out the distinctive marks made by a television camera trolley. "There's nothing here, and even if there were, the chances that it would stand up in court are negligible." She flicked off her own light. "We're wasting our time."
He grimaced. "I thought you might say that." He handed her back the flash light. "That leaves us with only one good lead."
Bones nodded, zipping up her equipment bag. "We have to find the place where Allison Jensen was poisoned."
Right. The only question was, "How?"
Brennan shrugged, shouldering her bag and leading him back towards the main entrance of the hotel. "Assuming Karen and Allison were drinking, they can't have gone far. Karen wouldn't have wanted to get a cab with Allison in that condition, so they must have walked from wherever the poisoning took place."
"And we know that Allison had been drinking Guinness," Booth added, cluing in.
"Mixed with Baileys and whiskey," Bones added with a vaguely nauseated expression.
"What?"
"Hodgins messaged me this morning," she explained, entering the door he held for her. "He said the variations in the structure of the stout she'd been drinking were the probable result of the alcohol being mixed prior to consumption. He's not one hundred percent certain, but it's something to go on."
Booth whistled. "Irish car bombs. Impressive."
"What?"
"Irish car bombs. Come on, Bones, you went to college! You never did a car bomb?"
"I think we've established that my social life has always been somewhat atypical." She rolled her eyes at him. "At least we have someplace to start."
Eventually they reached the front desk. The woman sitting behind it looked up expectantly. "Can I help you?"
Figuring that flashing his badge would probably be unnecessary, Booth just turned on the charm smile instead. "I hope so. This beautiful young woman missed out on some key college experiences. We're trying to make up for them. Is there anywhere around here that sells Irish car bombs?"
The woman – Peggy, by her nametag – smiled. "You want Paddy O's," she told them cheerfully. "They're down on Pitt Street, about a five minute walk. They should be opening for lunch in about an hour."
"And what would you recommend for lunch?"
"Sweet potato fries," Peggy said, almost in a swoon. "With roasted red pepper mayonnaise. The Guinness steak and mushroom pie is delicious, but the sweet potato fries are to die for."
Pun intended? Booth wondered, opening his mouth to reply.
"Thank you," Bones cut in, jabbing him in the side hard enough to disrupt the smile. "You've been very helpful."
"Of course," she chirped, ignoring Booth's pained exhalation completely except for a covert smile. "Have a nice day!"
RFBF
"What are we looking for, again?" Brennan asked, looking up at the pub signs down Pitt Street. "Paddy O's?"
"Paddy O'what?" Booth grumbled aloud. They'd been up and down both sides of the street with no luck whatsoever. "Do you think the receptionist was delusional?"
Brennan pushed open the door to one of the pubs, Ryan's, clearly intent on asking for directions. "She seemed lucid. Maybe someone in here will be able to help us."
The dining room was moderately full, tastefully decorated in with dark wood tables and chairs. The bar was brightly polished, proudly displaying too many different kinds of beer on tap to count. A black-clad server greeted them on their way in. "Welcome to Ryan's. Can I get you a table?"
"Actually, we're looking for a place called Paddy O's," Bones said. "Our hotel receptionist said it was on Pitt Street, but we haven't been able to find it."
The server smiled. "You've come to the right place. The manager changed the signs, hoping to attract a more diverse clientele, but all of the regulars still call us by our old name. Table for two?"
"Please."
When they had been seated and the server had taken their drink orders, Booth leaned across the table. "Finding anything in this place is going to be impossible." There were so many nooks and crannies there was no way they could search through them all.
"Maybe they have security cameras," Bones suggested, studying the beer menu. "Besides, what about the human element? We could find out who was working and see if they remember anything unusual."
If she noticed the sudden role reversal there – he concerned about scientific evidence, she suggesting an interview-based approach – she didn't acknowledge it. Booth had to smile a little at how far they'd come. "So what're you having?"
A short time later their food arrived, and they spent the next few minutes in comparative silence... until Booth attempted to steal one of Bones' sweet potato chips. She smacked his hand with the back of her fork.
"They're that good, huh?"
"Better," she confirmed, dipping one liberally in the red pepper mayo.
"You're not going to let me try one?"
She crunched down on the fry, an expression of pure bliss crossing her face. "You're not going to be able to stop at one."
Caught off-balance by the way those words and that expression affected him; Booth was forced to admit to himself that she was probably right. That didn't stop him from sneaking a fry when she was looking the other way.
Damn. Those were good fries. He hid a few behind his steak and mushroom pie.
When the waitress came to check on them, the sweet potato chips had completely disappeared, along with just about everything else. Booth settled the bill, then flashed his badge and explained the primary reason behind their visit. The young woman went to find the manager, and Bones excused herself to look around the premises for what Booth termed, in the privacy of his own head, Clues.
"Agent Booth." The woman he assumed to be the daytime manager approached the table, followed by a tall oriental gentleman. "I'm Nancy Ryan; this is our usual weekend bouncer, Chris Yang. I understand you have a few questions you'd like to ask us?"
He nodded, rising and shaking each of their hands in turn. Then he took the printout Angela had given him from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. "Do you recognize these two young women?"
Nancy shook her head, but Yang pulled the photograph closer. "I recognize them," he confirmed. "They're regulars in the summer, usually. I only saw them a few times this year. What's this about?"
Booth tucked the picture away. "The details of the investigation are still classified, but I can tell you that we are investigating their disappearance. We believe this is the last place they may have been seen. Do you know who was working that night?"
"I'll check my records," Nancy nodded. "It will just take a moment."
"I appreciate it," Booth told her. "Do you happen to keep video surveillance tapes at all?"
"Just at the front doors," Yang answered. "What day are you looking for?"
"July 30th," Booth told him. "Everyone who came in and everyone who went out."
The young man nodded. "I'll be right back."
At just that moment, Bones popped back into the room. "Guess what I found."
He knew there was a reason he'd brought her along. "A Clue?!"