Episode 6.5x14: The Weasel in the Pop ~ written by Stayuff

"You're crazy. There's no way that's what really happened!" Rhonda exclaimed as she followed her coworker up onto the platform above the batch tank.

Gina nodded. "I'm serious! He was totally hitting on me."

Rhonda laughed. "Mr. Evans is happily married to a jujitsu instructor. Even if he wasn't happily married, I think he knows not to cross a woman who can turn him into a human pretzel."

"He was blatantly staring at my butt and smiling!" Gina shot back as she undid the latch on the batch tank.

Rhonda gasped. "Wait, was this the day before yesterday when you had a stain on the back of those completely awful white jeans you love to wear?"

"Wait! You think he was staring at the stain? Mr. Evans started staring at me less than five minutes after my shift started. That means everybody let me walk around here all day with a stain on my butt? What kind of people do that?"

"The kind of people that think you should have left those jeans back in the 1980s where they belong and were happy to see them destroyed?" Rhonda suggested with a shrug.

"Please, you're just jealous because you can't carry off that look." Gina huffed.

"Gina, nobody can carry off that look and... even if they possibly can, they shouldn't." Rhonda smirked.

"Did I miss the day when you were appointed as the 'Tim Gunn' representative for the Warren Soda Company? Maybe you should just mind your own damn b…" Gina stopped talking as she stared into the tank at the white particles floating on top of the syrup. "What is that? Looks like somebody dumped Styrofoam or something into the batch tank."

Rhonda's eyes got wide as the mixing paddles in the tank pushed something else to the surface. "That's not Styrofoam, Gina."

The two women stared at the skull and femur floating atop the gelatinous mixture. Gina screamed and Rhonda hit the system's emergency stop button before joining Gina's scream with her own.

B&B

Brennan and Booth strode across the production floor of the Warren Soda Company following the sheriff to the crime scene.

"So, our victim is submerged in one of the ingredients used to make a soft drink?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, ma'am. Two employees found him on their morning quality check; he was floatin' in the batch mixer for the syrup they use to make Fuzzy Fizz." The sheriff pointed at the stairs to the platform.

Booth's eyes got wide and he laughed. "Fuzzy Fizz? Man! They still make that stuff? When I lived with Pops, for about a week I was able to convince Pops that it was just fancy fruit juice so it was healthy. Jared and I drank it every day until he decided to taste it and figured out he'd been had."

Brennan rolled her eyes and climbed the stairs. "I have a hard time believing that Hank thought a soft drink was fruit juice. He's a smart man."

"He's a smart man who trusted a kid not to lie to get what amounted to liquid candy. That was not long after we started living with him so I think he was still in the 'breaking in' period, where he had to get used to the idea that basically honest kids still sometimes lie about simple and stupid stuff like candy." Booth followed Brennan up the stairs.

Brennan donned a pair of gloves. "Booth, I'm surprised that you seem to be so cavalier about lying to a man who you hold in such high esteem."

Booth sighed. "Bones, I didn't kill Jimmy Hoffa and then lie to my grandfather about it; I was a kid and I wanted candy, so I bent the truth to get it. It wasn't technically the right thing to do, but it wasn't criminal either."

"Is there a rulebook somewhere of these instances when it's alright to 'bend' the truth and when it's actually lying?" Brennan asked.

Booth sighed again. "Bones, don't we need to get the dead guy out of the Fuzzy Fizz so we can find out who killed him?"

"Right, solve the murder now and discuss the rules of lying later." Brennan nodded as she opened the lid of the batch mixer.

"Ugh! Remind me to throw out all of the boxes of Jell-O in the cabinet when I get home." Booth said under his breath as he looked into the batch tank. "That looks like some sort of creepy Halloween Jell-O."

Brennan smiled. "Gelatin actually contains collagen and bone. You know, for a Halloween party in college we made-"

Booth put his hand over her mouth. "Bones, I'd like to be able to eat Jell-O again at some point in the future. Don't ruin it for me."

Brennan pushed his hand away. "Fine, I won't tell you the story but you're going to wish I had because it was funny." She looked at him haughtily. "You would have laughed... A lot."

Booth chuckled. "Bones, just tell me about our poor unfortunate Jell-O guy."

Brennan nodded. "Victim is male, mid 30s, Caucasian." She retrieved the bright white skull from the syrup mixture. "The bones appear to have been bleached by the chemicals in the syrup. Also, signs of blunt force trauma to the parietal and occipital, but it's difficult to determine if all of this damage was caused by the mixing blades in the tank or not."

"Hmmm... So, the tank could be the murder weapon?" Booth asked.

"It is possible, yes." Brennan conceded.

"So, somebody would have to have pushed him in?"

"I can't be certain, but it is one of the possible scenarios. He could also have fallen into the vat or jumped in. Although, I consider the 'jumping in' and 'falling in' scenarios highly unlikely given that there are countless easier and less unpleasant ways to die and if he fell in, he should have been able to pull himself out before he was seriously injured." Brennan mused. "We're going to need the entire tank, plus the platform."

Booth turned and shouted down to the forensics team. "Take the tank and the platform; send it all to the Jeffersonian."

"You can't take our batch tank! How will we continue to bottle Fuzzy Fizz?" The production manager shouted from the floor.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "You seriously think that the health department is going to let you use this after a dead body was found in it?"

The production manager sighed. "No... I suppose not."

"Mr. Bray, what is your assessment of the fracture patterns on the bones?" Brennan asked.

Wendell reexamined the x-rays for a moment. "All of the damage is consistent with the blades of the batch mixer, but the blow to the parietal bone was the only fatal one? So, that's cause of death?"

Brennan smiled. "Exactly, so what is our next step?"

"Set tissue markers for Angela so that she can get us an ID and hope to God that Hodgins can figure something out from the giant vat of man-syrup?" Wendell asked.

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "Essentially, however I would request that you refrain from referring to the soft tissue remains as 'man-syrup'."

Hodgins walked up onto the platform looking dejected. "Well, I wouldn't put all your faith in the man-syrup if I were you. Remember how gleaming white and minty fresh the bones were when we scraped off the orange goo?"

"Minty fresh?" Brennan asked.

"I believe he's making a reference to whitening toothpaste, Dr. Brennan," Wendell supplied.

Hodgins nodded as he continued, "Well, it turns out that the good people of the Warren Soda Company destroyed all of my trace evidence."

Brennan's eyebrows shot up. "They destroyed evidence?"

Hodgins shrugged his shoulders. "Probably not intentionally. I mean, unless the murderer turns out to be one of the plant workers. It's part of their production process. They use ultraviolet radiation to sterilize the syrup, which is what whitened the bones and destroyed my trace evidence. Of course, a lot of it would have been eaten away by the corrosive ingredients in the syrup anyway."

"So, the bug man has nothing?" Booth called from below the platform.

Hodgins slouched a bit and grumbled. "I wouldn't say nothing, but... yeah, for now." He stood up straighter as Booth climbed the stairs of the platform. "But, I'll think of something."

"Well, while you're busy with... that... I think I can help us fast track an ID," Booth announced triumphantly. "Have you already given Angela the dental x-rays?"

"Yes, but without something to compare them with, they're useless," Brennan replied.

Booth smiled as he pulled out a memory stick. "Greg Parrish, age 34, of Rockville. He's the only unaccounted for employee. His wife said he never came home after last night's shift and none of his friends have heard from him. His wife gave permission for his dentist to release to us a digital copy of Greg's latest x-rays."

"Take them to Angela and see if they match. Mr. Parrish may be our victim, but he could just as easily be our murderer," Brennan said.

"No activity on his credit cards or bank accounts and his car is still in the parking lot at the plant," Booth smirked. "I think I found our guy."

Hodgins looked up from the bones. "Hey, Booth? When was the last time Greg Parrish was seen?"

"Signed out at 12:45am, he'd stayed behind to finish a little paperwork. He was last seen heading back onto the production floor, said he'd forgotten something."

Hodgins grinned as he scrambled off the platform. "I'm back in the game, baby!"

"That should really frighten me, right?" Booth asked.

"Well, that depends. How terrifying do you find a brow-less Hodgins? Last time he ran off looking that excited about a case, he singed his eyebrows off and had to cut his hair really short to get rid of the burnt parts," Wendell said with a chuckle.

Booth nodded. "Yeah, I guess that means I should leave the expensive shoes at home until this case is over."

"Good call."

B&B

"Bren, did you authorize an order of supplies for Jack?" Angela asked tiredly from the doorway of Brennan's office.

Brennan nodded. "I did. Hodgins said that those substances were essential to confirming time of death. He wants to test the corrosive properties of the syrup to estimate the time it took to dissolve the flesh and clothing so that it can be used to calculate approximate time of death, now that you've positively identified Greg Parrish as the victim. He wants to see if it, as he said, 'jives' with the time Greg Parrish signed out of work."

Angela groaned and walked into the office. "Bren... You know what he's really doing in there, don't you?"

"No, but your tone indicates that it's something bad."

Angela sighed as she sank down in the chair opposite her friend. "Bren, he's in there playing Mythbusters, the home game."

Brennan's eyes lit up. "There's a home game? That sounds exceptionally unwise; given the dangerous nature of many of their experiments, but it is an intriguing notion."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Too literal, Brennan. But, not far off. I'm fairly certain that the box he's carrying around the lab contains stuff he's pilfered from people's workstations that he wants to try to dissolve with Fuzzy Fizz."

Brennan rose from her desk and walked to the door. "Dr. Hodgins!"

Hodgins froze, box in hand and looked up at her guiltily. "Yes?"

"Return any items that were acquired without the owner's knowledge and consent, as well as any acquired under false pretenses. The owners must be aware that there property will likely not be returnable."

Hodgins sulked as he started taking items out of his box. "Fine. I may need to go buy some things, though."

"Be frugal and keep your receipts," Brennan said as she returned to her desk.

"That's ALL? Seriously, Bren? You just told him it's okay to destroy stuff as long as he doesn't steal, overspend or forget to save his receipts," Angela said incredulously. "You do realize that he's going to want to test the effects of that syrup on things not related to the case, don't you?"

Brennan looked up and saw the doors to the lab closing behind Hodgins and sighed as she picked up her phone and dialed. "Dr. Hodgins, you may only experiment on items used to mimic human flesh and common items that may have been on his person."

Angela laughed when she heard her husband's frustrated shout through the phone, "No fair!"

"So, you've seen Mythbusters, Bren?" asked Angela.

Brennan smiled, "Yes, it's the one television show that Booth and I both enjoy equally. Though the frivolity of the cast often overshadows the danger involved in their work, the science is generally sound. Plus, it is quite amusing."

Angela chuckled. "That's cute, Bren. I'm glad you guys found something to watch together. That show sounds like a perfect fit for the two of you. So, do you have a favorite Mythbuster?"

Brennan nodded, "Grant."

"Grant? Really? But, Tory's so hot."

Brennan laughed. "I admit that Tory is aesthetically pleasing and quite talented in his own right, but I believe that Grant is the most well rounded of all the Mythbusters. He's an engineer, so science and mathematics are important to him, but he's also quite willing and able to laugh at himself."

"You have a crush on Grant!"

Brennan blushed. "I do not. I simply respect him as a scientist and a television presenter."

"Crush!"

"You're behaving like an adolescent."

"That's because you have a little teenage girlie crush on Grant Imahara. Does Booth know?" Angela asked.

"He knows and he thinks it's cute and harmless," Booth said with a smile as he walked in and kissed his girlfriend. "When you stop blushing, Bones, we've got a few interviews lined up at the Hoover."

Brennan rolled her eyes and stood. "If you're done mocking me, we should probably go."

"After you, Bones. After you." Booth said as he ushered her out of the room.

B&B

"Mr. Evans, how long have you been the production manager for the Warren Soda Company?" Booth asked.

"Six years as production manager and seventeen as the Quality Manager. I trained Greg Parrish when he was being groomed to take over as Quality Manager," Evans answered.

Booth nodded slightly. "So, you knew Mr. Parrish well?"

Evans smiled slightly. "I'd like to think so. I became sort of a mentor to him when he joined the Quality group. He was a good inspector, dedicated to learning more than just what boxes needed to be checked but why they needed to be checked. Greg was that dependable guy who everybody wanted on their team. He seemed quite driven to prove himself and if that was his mission, then he succeeded. I'd already had conversations with the plant manager about him taking my job when I retire in a few years."

Brennan spoke up. "You've spoken about your knowledge of his professional life. What do you know about his personal life? Do you know if he was experiencing any domestic issues?"

Evans shook his head. "Greg was the same outside of work as he was at work. Dependable, kind, but determined to succeed. He has a nice family, a wife and two boys. Trent is 15 and Ryan is 9. You never saw a prouder father and the way he doted on his wife? Let's just say, he made other husbands look bad."

"How so?" Brennan asked.

Evans smiled warmly. "He sent his wife flowers every week and never forgot a birthday or anniversary."

"Sounds like a good guy," Booth commented.

"You don't know the half of it. Everyone in the Quality group rotates to cover second shift; it works out to about three days a month." Evans explained. "Greg never complained. When his children were younger and he would pull second shift, he'd hire a babysitter and have dinner delivered to the plant by a longtime friend of his who owns a restaurant so that he and his wife could still eat together. Once Trent was old enough to watch Ryan on his own, he stopped hiring the babysitter but they kept up the tradition of eating together on his second shift nights."

"Did they eat together on the night that Greg Parrish disappeared?" Booth asked.

Evans nodded. "According to the security logs they did. Olivia signed the guest logs at 8, as usual. Greg's dinner break began at 8:15 and she signed out again at 8:50."

"Did Greg have any other visitors sign in that night?" Booth asked.

"Just his friend who delivered the food, Steve Garrett. He owns Il Bello Pasto in Georgetown," Evans said with a slight shrug. "Nothing that happened the night Greg died was out of the ordinary. I wish I had more information for you, but the only two visitors he had that night were the two people in the world who would have gone to hell and back for him."

Brennan shook her head. "Mr. Evans, you've actually been very helpful." She paused at a glance from Booth. "You provided us with a clearer timeline of the night Greg Parrish died and that is extremely valuable information."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Evans," Booth said as he and Brennan rose from the table to escort Evans from room.

B&B

"So, we're just going to ask her about her husband and hope that she reveals motive to us? Statistically, she is the most likely suspect. Booth, you're the one who usually says, 'It's always the wife'! Why is this time different?" Brennan asked impatiently as she looked through the window into the interrogation room where Olivia and Trent Parrish were sitting.

Sweets interjected. "Because, Dr. Brennan, we have two most likely suspects based on the information Mr. Evans provided. You can't afford to tip your hand early and be wrong. Plus, if you go after her and she's not the killer, then you've verbally terrorized a woman who just lost her husband."

"Besides, she has her 15 year old son in there with her. We can't go after her until we get her alone," Booth added.

"Well, I'll let you know if I see anything that warrants asking Trent to leave the room." Sweets said.

Booth and Brennan nodded at Sweets, stepped out of the observation room and into the interrogation room.

"Mrs. Parrish, Trent... I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian. We appreciate you agreeing to speak to us today, when we know that you still have so much to deal with as a family." Booth said sympathetically as he and Brennan sat down at the table.

Olivia Parrish nodded tearfully. "Yes, thank you, Agent Booth. It has been so hard."

"But, we're glad to do anything we can to help you catch the person who did this to my Dad." Trent added.

Booth pensively said, "That's exactly what we're here to do, Trent. Mrs. Parrish, what can you tell us about your husband? What would you like us to know about him?"

"He was my rock, my everything. We started dating when we were sixteen years old and never dated anyone else. When my father died the summer after high school graduation, he was really there for me; you know? He listened while I cried and even cried with me." She sobbed. "He was wonderful. All of my girlfriends said I was so lucky to have such a strong, attentive, and still sensitive man. When I found out I was pregnant with Trent several weeks later, he proposed. The amazing man I loved wanted to marry me and raise a family with me. I'd have been a fool to say no. Besides, I knew that Greg didn't just marry me out of a sense of duty; he loved me, too." Olivia smiled sadly.

"Yeah, Dad really did love Mom. He once told me that he didn't know how he got to be lucky enough for her to love him back. Dad never seems..." Trent's face paled slightly, "…seemed to understand how great he is... was."

Brennan looked at Booth before she turned to Trent, "What do you mean by that, Trent?"

"He... I don't know, he always got embarrassed and sometimes even a little upset if you went on too much about how great he was. Like he didn't think he deserved the praise," Trent replied.

"Did he seem upset about anything recently?" Booth asked.

Trent nodded with a rueful smile, "My learner's permit. I turned 15 a few days ago and he wanted me to wait to get my permit. Said I didn't need to rush into something as risky as driving without being really sure I was ready for the responsibility. He even told me that he was going to make me wait six months, just to make sure that I was really ready. Dad could be really overprotective sometimes, especially about driving and cars."

"Why do you think that is?" Booth asked.

"Because my grandpa, Mom's father, was killed in a hit and run while he was out jogging. He told me that he thought most people saw driving as a right, but it was a privilege and not to be taken lightly. He just wanted to keep me safe." Trent choked out a sob.

Olivia put her arms around Trent. "I'm sorry. If you have any other questions, we'll be happy to answer them but I think I need to get my son home now."

Booth nodded, "Yes, of course. Thank you again for your time, both of you. We'll be in touch."

Booth and Brennan exited the room and went to see what Sweets had to say.

"She was telling the truth," Sweets said.

Booth glared at him. "Your high-powered degrees are going to pack up and leave on their own if that's all you really have to say."

Sweets smirked. "In all the time that you've known me, have I ever had that little to say about my observations of an interview?"

Brennan shook her head. "No, you can be quite loquacious. It has been alternately annoying and endearing, depending on the situation."

Sweets laughed. "Thanks. Anyway, I was going to say that Olivia Parrish was telling the truth when she spoke, but all of her statements were about a specific time in her life. She was recounting old memories that are dear to her, which she has clearly retold fondly before. The really interesting thing is how she changed when Trent started talking about driving. She got silent, but she never took her eyes off her son."

"Yeah, I saw that," Booth said. "She kind of looked like she was scared he might accidentally say too much. The kid seemed oblivious, though."

"Totally. Trent Parrish seems to be just dealing with genuine grief and shock. He clearly loved his father very much. I don't think he knows anything about why his dad died," Sweets said.

"He did allude to the fact that his father was dealing with some feelings of inadequacy, though. I did read that one correctly, didn't I?" Brennan asked.

Booth smiled. "Yeah, Bones. You got that one right."

"Exactly, Dr. Brennan. Greg Parrish, seemingly perfect guy, didn't think he was perfect. In fact, based on Trent's statements, he seemed to have had a rather notable inferiority complex. It's almost like he was trying to atone for something," Sweets said.

Booth nodded. "Yeah, but what did Greg Parrish have to atone for? He and Olivia got together when they were 16 and never separated. It's not like he's some ex-mobster living under an assumed name or that he used to be a woman or something."

"If Greg Parrish had been a woman, he would have been unable to father Olivia's children," Brennan supplied.

Booth rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yes, Bones. I know that. Hyperbole, exaggeration. These are just all part of the varied tapestry that is Seeley Booth."

Brennan laughed. "'The varied tapestry that is Seeley Booth'? Just because we're romantically involved, it doesn't mean that I'm going to let you get away with saying ridiculously pompous things like that. You are an amazing man, Booth, but if you refer to yourself in third person like that again you're likely to find yourself sleeping on the floor."

"Not the couch, Bones? Women usually make their boyfriends and husbands sleep on the couch when they have an argument."

Brennan smirked. "I'm not cruel, Booth. That couch is not good for your back. If I ever kicked you out of bed, I'd let you sleep on the air mattress on the living room floor."

Booth smiled. "Thanks, Bones."

Sweets cleared his throat. "Um, guys? Still at work? Talking about the case?"

Booth looked chagrined, "Oh, yeah. Okay, I just don't understand what kind of skeletons this guy could have in his closet. If he had a secret life to be ashamed of, he hid it very well."

Sweets looked up from his notes. "Check out his driving history. Olivia's reaction to Trent talking about the learner's permit and driving in general is the key. I'd focus on the earliest parts of his driving history."

"What are you expecting to see on his driving history?" Brennan asked.

"Hopefully, confirmation of my theories," Sweets replied.

"Is that the psychology version of Booth's 'gut feelings'?" Brennan asked.

Sweets smiled. "Bingo."

B&B

The next morning, Turner walked into Booth's office carrying a folder.

"I got that information you wanted, Boss."

Booth accepted the file from the agent and started thumbing through it. "Thanks, Turner."

As soon as the rookie agent left the room, he picked up his phone and called his partner. "Hey, Bones? Turner brought me some information on Greg Parrish. Sweets was right."

"About his driving record?" Brennan asked as she sat down to the large stack of paperwork on her desk; she would be glad when Cam returned from maternity leave.

"Yeah, he had a couple of DUIs the summer after he graduated from high school," Booth said as he continued flipping through the file.

"Around the same time that Olivia Parrish's father died," Brennan concluded.

"Yeah, so maybe he saw it as a wakeup call?" Booth asked.

"An illustration of the true perils of drinking and driving? Perhaps. That would make sense with what Trent said about his father's feelings about responsible driving," Brennan agreed.

"Yeah, but it's almost like he felt personal guilt about his father-in-law's death. Like he felt somehow responsible," Booth said.

"Well, Trent said the case was never solved."

Booth nodded. "Yeah, that's true. Olivia's father, Matthew Grantham, was killed in a hit and run. From what I found, there were no witnesses. It happened around sunset, when he was out jogging."

"Were you able to get access to the coroner's reports?" Brennan asked.

"No, but the police report says that the coroner's initial observations at the scene were that cause of death was most likely the head hitting the curb after the car struck him."

"That's not surprising. What's the idiom? 'It's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop at the end,'" Brennan asked.

Booth chuckled. "Not exactly a sympathetic response, but you did use the idiom correctly."

Brennan frowned. "I wasn't expressing personal feelings. I was merely pointing out one of the rare occasions where a popular idiom had a basis in fact."

Booth smiled. "I know, Bones, and it's pretty cute."

"Haven't I made my feelings clear on the use of the word cute?" Brennan said sternly.

"You have and it actually makes you cuter. Bones, it's not demeaning. Smart women can be cute, adorable even. No single word could be expected to sum up all of who you are, so why should you be insulted when I use one word that's just a part of what makes you my Bones?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "If you weren't such an honest man, you would have made an excellent lawyer. You're very persuasive."

"Yes. I. Am," Booth said cockily.

"Do you have anything else pertinent to the case or are you just going to engage in cocky innuendo?" Brennan asked.

Booth smiled. "Fine, fine. Bones. Let me look at the file."

"Okay."

Booth flipped through the pages in the file. "Well, here's something interesting."

"What?"

"Guess who was riding with Greg Parrish one of the times he was arrested?"

"Who?" Brennan asked.

"Steve Garrett."

"Jack Stanley Hodgins! What the hell are you doing?" Angela asked as she walked into the Ookey room.

Hodgins looked up guiltily from the gelatinous, oozing items he was fishing out of a small, metal tank. "Science?"

Angela covered her mouth in disgust. "Oh my god. Was that pile of goo once a pig?"

"Human analog," Hodgins replied happily.

"That's 'Mythbuster' for pig. Jack... We're not watching that show anymore. It gives good scientists bad ideas," Angela said.

Hodgins laughed. "Angie, you don't mean that. You'd never give up the chance to watch Tory onscreen. Besides, you already decided which Mythbuster you are. Come on, you love that show."

"Of course I know which Mythbuster I am! I'm Kari, artist with scientific interests? It's so obvious." Angela smirked.

Hodgins put the 'human analog' into a clear container and looked up at his wife. "Which one am I?"

"You? You're kind of like a frightening hybrid of Tory and Adam. Adorable, smart, goofy and dangerous," Angela replied with a grin.

Hodgins grinned as he took off his gloves. "You know it, baby."

"So, who on the team is our Grant?" Angela asked.

Hodgins scoffed. "Too easy! Cam is so a Grant."

Angela laughed. "You know, this sort of reminds me of when women used to talk about which character from Sex in the City they were."

Hodgins stopped smiling. "No, it isn't. Angela, please don't compare a conversation with your husband to a chick chat."

Angela laughed harder. "I call 'em like a see 'em, babe. By the way, Bren is totally a Jamie."

"Is that some sort of new colloquialism? Should I be offended at its meaning?" Brennan asked as she walked into the room.

Angela chuckled. "No, Bren. We were just saying that if everyone on our team correlated to the Mythbusters that you would be Jamie, minus the bald head and crazy mustache."

Brennan smiled. "Of course. I consider that a compliment. Jamie is very exacting and has high scientific standards. I respect his methods. So, who is everyone else?"

"I'm Kari, Hodgins is a Tory/Adam hybrid, and Cam is Grant," Angela replied.

Brennan nodded her approval. "Agreed. So, who is Booth?"

Hodgins grinned. "He's the announcer. He's a big goofball who tries to be serious and doesn't seem to know that he's a big goofball."

Brennan laughed. "That is very fitting! Nicely done, Dr. Hodgins." She looked at the container with the 'human analog'. "Have you made any progress on confirming time of death based on the effects of the syrup mixture on flesh?"

Hodgins nodded. "I'm not done, but I am narrowing the window a bit. This sample was in the syrup for eight hours, the amount of time between when Greg Parrish signed out and the time his body was discovered. I built a scaled down version of the batch tank, complete with proportional paddles to agitate the mixture."

"That does look consistent with the consistency of the victim's flesh." Brennan nodded approvingly.

Hodgins pointed at another sample. "This is the seven hour sample."

Brennan's eyebrows rose. "Really? The flesh is much more intact. I wouldn't have expected there to be such a considerable difference."

Angela nodded. "Yeah, it's not nearly as gross as the first sample. Still gross, but definitely a big difference."

"Science, baby. Science. The flesh and soft tissue wasn't fully penetrated by the syrup until after the seven hour mark."

"So, he died within an hour of signing out?" Angela asked.

"According to the human analog Jell-O, yes," Hodgins confirmed.

B&B

Booth looked at Sweets briefly before he spoke to their new number one suspect. "Mr. Garrett..."

"Steve," The red haired man insisted.

Booth nodded. "Steve, Dr. Sweets and I would like to talk to you about your friendship with Greg Parrish. I understand that the two of you have been friends since high school."

Steve smiled. "Yeah, I met him on the first day of ninth grade. Mrs. Tolliver's homeroom."

"So, the two of you were buds from the start?" Sweets asked.

"From the moment I flung a rubber band and hit Mrs. Tolliver in the back of the head and he told her Ray Wheelus did it," Steve replied.

Sweets grinned. "Sometimes the best friendships form over the simplest things."

"Yeah, it was good to have someone to watch my back, especially the next summer when we both started working for my Dad."

"What did he do to watch your back then?" Booth asked.

Steve shrugged. "Normal stuff. Made me look good when a girl I liked came in the restaurant. Covered for me when I was smoking pot behind the restaurant on my break. Of course, I did the same for him. I actually introduced him to Olivia."

"So, were you guys also drinking buddies?" Booth asked.

Steve nodded with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, we were idiots back then. We used to stockpile bottles of beer that we stole from the restaurant for Friday night parties. We even got nabbed for DUI a few times. One time, Greg was driving and we were both drunk when we got pulled over." His face darkened. "We both thought our parents were going to kill us for that one, but they didn't. It was a pretty carefree time. But all of that changed after Mr. Grantham got killed. Suddenly, it wasn't so fun anymore because it could easily have been one of us on another night. I think a close shave with a deer the day before Mr. Grantham's accident also helped Greg decide to make a change."

"You're sure it was the day before?" Booth asked as he exchanged a glance with Sweets.

"Pretty sure. That's what he told Mark Sollecito a few days later when he asked him to help fix his truck. He didn't want to call the insurance company because of the DUIs he'd had; he was sure they'd drop him."

"You said he changed around that time. How so?" Sweets asked.

"All of us changed a little. Drank less, didn't drive drunk anymore, cut back on the pot. But Greg? He may as well have stepped into the phone booth as Clark Kent and come out as Superman. I mean, Greg was always a good guy but after Mr. Grantham was killed he became the ultimate good guy. He stopped drinking completely, cut back on partying, and became the designated driver for every party he was at. Plus, he became even more devoted to Olivia than he already was. When Olivia told him she was pregnant, most guys our age probably would have freaked out and tried to find a way to escape but Greg didn't flinch. He proposed and they were married three weeks later."

"We've heard that they had the ideal marriage. Was it always so perfect?" Booth asked.

Steve nodded. "Yup, they almost never really fought. They disagreed about some stuff but it never got ugly and they always worked it out quickly."

"Now, you delivered their meal to the plant on the night that Greg died; right?" Booth asked.

"Yeah, I did. Same as always."

"How did they seem? Happy? Tense?" Sweets asked.

Steve's brow furrowed. "Actually, they seemed a little off. I mean, I guess they'd had a disagreement about something. Probably Trent's learner's permit, but Olivia looked really mad. I know they could have worked through it if they'd had the chance, though. They just didn't have enough time."

Booth looked at Sweets and nodded as they both stood. "Thanks for coming in, Steve. We'll let you know if we have any more questions."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Booth sighed. "The next one's all you, shrink boy. We need to get the wife back in here and find out what that fight was about."

B&B

The next afternoon, Booth and Brennan stood on the other side of the glass and watched Dr. Lance Sweets open the door to the interrogation room.

Brennan smiled at Booth. "He's been watching you. I think he's finally perfected the nonchalant, but somehow still sympathetic walk into the room."

Booth grinned. "He had it before. I just made him buy shoes that grip the floor a little better."

Brennan laughed and they both turned their attention back to the interrogation room.

"Thanks again for coming back in, Mrs. Parrish," Sweets said as he sat down across from Olivia.

"I don't really know what else I can tell you about Greg."

"We spoke to Steve Garrett and he said that it seemed as though the two of you were in the midst of a disagreement on the night that Greg was killed."

Olivia frowned sadly. "Dr. Sweets, my husband and I had a continuing disagreement about our son getting his learner's permit. Unfortunately, my last words to my husband were spoken in anger."

"That must be difficult to deal with, Mrs. Parrish," Sweets said sympathetically.

Olivia dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "My husband was a wonderful man. I'm thankful that my children know just how much he loved them. It's important to know that you are truly cherished and my children know that their father cherished them.

"Well, everyone we've talked to said the same complimentary things about him that you did but Steve did mention that Greg wasn't always that way. He said that he was always a basically good guy, but he wasn't always the ultimate good guy. He said that the change seemed to take place around the time of your father's death. Like that tragedy suddenly flipped the switch for him and he just immediately grew up."

"We all changed after my father died, understandably. Loss changes people."

"It does, but it seems to have changed Greg for the better. He seemed to be inspired to make a positive change in his life and that's quite admirable." Sweets said, noticing the way that Olivia's jaw tightened.

"Yes, he did step up and become an amazing father," Olivia said tensely.

"And an amazing husband. I mean, he sent you flowers every week! I like to think that I'm a caring and attentive boyfriend, but I've never sent a woman flowers every week. That's a seriously romantic man. He clearly loved you very much," Sweets said with a gentle smile.

Olivia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It was a mask, just smoke and mirrors. None of it was real," She said quietly.

"How so?"

Olivia laughed bitterly, but kept her head down. "He was a good actor; I'll give him that and I do think he genuinely loved the boys, but I just can't believe the rest of it now that I know."

"Now that you know what?" Sweets asked.

She looked up at him with angry tears in her eyes. "He killed my father! Back then he fed me some story about hitting a deer, but it was a lie. It was all a lie. Everything. Our entire married life! Don't you understand? He lived this life looking like the noble, dutiful husband but he lied to me every day to keep up the illusion."

"How do you know he killed your father?" Sweets prodded gently.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, slamming it down on the table. "The coward wrote it in his suicide note! He was apparently too big of a coward to even go through with that, because I found it that night, before I went to meet him for dinner, and it was dated three days earlier." She looked into Sweets' eyes. "I couldn't let him get away with that. I had to hear it directly from him. After nearly 16 years of marriage, he owed me that!"

"So you confronted him at the plant," Sweets said.

"Not right away. I tried to give him a chance to say it without me having to ask, so I hinted around that he'd been different lately and I started talking about my Dad and about Trent getting his permit. He got angry about the permit, but wouldn't talk about anything else. As if the learner's permit was all this was about!"

"So, you left after the meal and he went back to work?" Sweets asked.

"Yes, but I never left the parking lot. I just couldn't get away from the thought that he needed to tell me. But, I also knew that wasn't a conversation we could have with all of the second shift people hanging around so I waited until thirty minutes after his shift ended and snuck back inside." Tears streamed down Olivia's face.

"You confronted him then," Sweets stated.

Olivia nodded. "I found him up on platform above one of the tanks, checking things one last time. He usually checked all of the gauges and looked in on the syrup mixture before he left, said he slept better knowing for certain that he'd left things in good shape since third shift is very lightly staffed. Anyway, I went up to talk to him and I could see on his face that he knew I knew. He started crying. The bastard had the gall to cry as if he was the one who was hurt."

"Did he confess?"

"He did. He said, 'I didn't know what to do, Liv. He was gone by the time I got out of the car. I was a kid and I was scared, so I ran.'" Olivia pounded her fist on the table. "He 'ran'. Well, he didn't run far enough! He could have just disappeared. He didn't have to build this fake life with me! It was bad enough not knowing who killed my father, but finding out that my life wasn't real? It was just too much."

"What did you do then?"

"I pushed him and he fell into the open door on the tank. He caught himself and managed to hold on to the rim of the opening, but I couldn't let him save himself! I uncurled his fingers from the rim and he dropped inside. I closed the door and left." Olivia wiped her tears. "I felt it was better for my kids to lose their father and still believe that he was a good man, instead of finding out about the monster he truly was."

Sweets looked up at the observation window and nodded. Booth walked in and cuffed Olivia Parrish while he read her her rights. Brennan stayed in the observation room, watching the scene with tears in her eyes. She had no sympathy for the murderer, but she knew something of the horror those boys were facing at finding out their parents were not who they thought they were.

Booth eased the truck out of his parking space at the Hoover Building and grinned at his partner. "So, Bones. Are you ready for a weekend of no holds barred, full on, Booth boy's fun?"

Brennan chuckled. "We're going swimming, going on a morning hike, playing video games and watching cartoons. You make it sound like we're going to some sort of amusement park where wrestling is encouraged. I've spent time with the two of you on weekends before; I know that such an amusement park is not on the agenda."

"I'm just excited to see Parker and ready to shake off this case. I need some serious father-son-Bones time to wash away the stuff we saw this week."

Brennan nodded seriously. "I understand. I can't help but see myself and Russ in the Parrish children. Their world has been destroyed by lies."

"Yeah, but your parents lied to protect you."

"Greg Parrish lied to protect his children, too."

Booth sighed. "Yeah, I guess he did."

"A lie is always a lie, even if it's told with kind intentions," Brennan stated.

"True, but not every lie is cruel. Besides, some lies are told knowing that the other person knows it's a lie."

"Could you give me an example?" Brennan asked.

Booth grinned. "When a woman asks if her butt looks fat in a certain pair of jeans, she already knows how it looks; she's just asking for reassurance. So, unless the look is completely hideous and you know she'd be mad you let her go out that way, you tell her 'no, of course not, baby.'"

Brennan smiled in spite of herself. "As patronizing as that example was, I see your point. If the lie is told to build someone up, not unnecessarily, but to reinforce their already existing feelings, it can be an act of kindness."

Booth nodded. "Clearly, it's a fine line in many cases, but you've got to use your best judgment. Anyway, sometimes the truth can be even crueler than the lie."

"Like when that woman at Hank's retirement community incessantly asks where her husband is and Hank tells her he just stepped out to buy her some flowers?" Brennan asked.

Booth smiled. "Exactly, Bones. Pops knows that she has Alzheimer's and her husband has been dead for fifteen years, but he lies to her because making her mourn her husband's loss four hundred times a day is crueler than a little kind lie."

Brennan nodded her understanding. "While truth should always be the goal, sometimes we owe people the kindness of a lie."

Booth smiled affectionately at the woman in his life as they pulled up in front of his son's school. When the universe teaches a lesson, Temperance Brennan is on the front row taking notes.

When a case leads Booth and Brennan into the kinkier side of life and relationships, they discover more than just who committed the murder. Join us next week for the Dominant in the Dumbwaiter by Rynogeny.