AN: Why, hello! It was so good to see so many new faces in the reviews, so to speak! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I write for you!
I figured we needed a bit of a lighter chapter, so Sweets came out to help us play. Isn't that nice of Baby Duck?
Shocker: I still don't own Bones. I also don't own anything by Shakespeare.
"It would seem the animals have taken over the zoo," Sweets mused aloud.
Booth concurred: the Morgan Ashford theatre was a scene of chaos. Several students were congregated in the front row of seats, laughing and ignoring the pleas of a frantic young man with a clipboard. On stage, two paint-spattered women angrily gestured to a half-finished backdrop, waving their dirty brushes at each other. The one thing that was decidedly not happening was the scheduled rehearsal for the upcoming production.
"Maybe Laroche is an ass for a reason," Booth said.
They made their way down the aisle towards the stage, studying the scene carefully. After some debate with Fisher and Angela, they'd decided that a second round of interrogations would be necessary to flush out their mystery "Hamlet" in the crowd. Sweets was adamant that the killer was someone connected with the Drama program, and Booth had to agree. It would take a theatre geek to keep all of this crap straight.
At least Bones had only put up a slight protest at Booth's decision to take the kid into the field. She concurred that the psychological profiles Fisher and Angela wanted for their analysis would be most efficiently compiled if the profiler himself conducted the interviews. Cam had helpfully mentioned a growing backlog of remains in Limbo and off she'd gone, gloves in hand. His partner hated being told where to go and what to do. I'm going to owe her big time after this one, Booth thought with a sigh.
The din grew louder and Sweets leaned over, nearly shouting in Booth's ear to be heard. "Where did you want to start?"
After a moment's consideration, Booth pointed to the Clipboard Guy. "Him. Maybe he's a Laroche lackey. Could know if he's pissed anyone off recently."
They made their approach towards him, Booth taking stock of the guy's body language. Anxiety, almost panic was plain on his face as he tried to be heard over the loud group of students. A fairly young guy himself – Booth figured him to be 25 or so – he spoke with a soft, passive tone. A follower, not a leader. His eyes darted towards Booth and he sighed, abandoning his speech and approaching them.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Special Agent Seeley Booth," he replied, flashing his badge. "And this is my associate, Dr. Lance Sweets. We're investigating the abduction of Francis Laroche."
"Ben Bertram, assistant stage manager and, at the demand of the Dean, stand-in director. Not that anyone is necessarily willing to be directed today. The gossip mill's in overdrive after recent events." With a shake of his head, he added, "I know that the leads know their stuff already; they're very committed to their work. That doesn't mean the supporting roles know their cues and such, though."
"We were wondering if we could interview the cast and crew again," Sweets said casually. "Sometimes, we see things we don't realize are relevant. Shouldn't take too long."
"Oh, sure! Anything to help. Practice is a bust anyway. Did you want to use Francis' office?"
Booth nodded. "That would work. Could we speak with you first?"
"No problem. Follow me."
The backstage area was an obstacle course: opened cardboard boxes discarded; cans of paint; a rack of costumes along a wall. It occurred to Booth that it would be rather easy to hide in here, lying in wait. He had a vague memory of Violet Richter last being seen waiting outside the theatre. What if her assailant lured her in here?
Ben fumbled with an enormous key ring as he unlocked the office. Booth noted it was far tidier than the first time they'd used it for their interviews and wondered if the neurotic kid in front of them was also a clean freak.
"Have a seat," he invited them, settling in at the desk.
With a glance between them, he and Sweets reluctantly sunk into the couch. It placed them slightly below the stage manager, which Booth never cared for during an interview.
"How long have you been working here, Mr. Bertram?" Booth asked.
"Three years, not counting my time before graduation."
"You attended Morgan Ashford yourself?" Sweets asked.
Ben nodded. "Not as an actor – never been one for the spotlight. I took the technical programming for stage management and art direction. When the college offered me a permanent job, I couldn't say no."
"You like being here," Sweets gently prodded.
"It's alright." The kid shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Do either of you know anything about the theatre industry?"
Booth shook his head, while Sweets chimed in, "A little. I used to do summer stock."
"Really?" Booth asked.
The psychiatrist seemed exasperated by Booth's teasing grin. "Yes, Agent Booth. It was never a serious passion, but I enjoyed it. In any case, it's a difficult industry to break into and make a living at, for actors at least."
"Directors too," Ben corrected him. "Even steady work in set design is hard to come by, especially fresh out of college. It's not the most glamorous gig, but I've added three solid years to my portfolio by staying here. I've started reaching out now to London and New York, but this is my stable paycheck until opportunity knocks."
"Makes sense," Booth said. "So, if Francis Laroche has been teaching here for five years, you've known him –"
"His entire tenure," Ben interrupted. "Counting my studies, I've been here six years. He was one of my instructors. He recommended me for the position, actually."
"Would you say you know him well?" Sweets asked.
Ben's brow furrowed. "Professionally, sure. I know what he likes, what he expects, how he directs. We're not buddies or anything like that. We get along, but we're not grabbing beers after work, if you know what I mean."
Booth leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Alright Ben, between us: what was the deal with Violet Richter?"
The kid flushed. "Violet is – er, was incredibly talented. I don't want you to think she was undeserving of the roles she won here..."
"But?"
He sighed. "As far as I saw, nothing happened between them, but the way he watched her... It was a little too affectionate. Please don't tell him I said that!"
Booth nodded. "It's between us, don't worry."
"With Violet gone, who's likely to move to the top among the female actresses?" Sweets asked.
Ben grimaced. "Well, Laroche seems to favour Kimberly, but with her off still after what happened, I guess Marina Ainsley. Marina was cast as her understudy for Lady M. last week. In my mind, Kimberly should be the understudy."
Booth filed this away. Perhaps Laroche had a thing for his leading ladies?
"Is there anyone who has a problem with Laroche?" Booth asked.
"Well, Laroche can be demanding," Ben began. "Very anal retentive. Everything's gotta be exactly the way he sees it or he loses his temper. But that's theatre." He paused, frowning as he thought further. "Evan Mackenzie hated him, although he still kissed ass non-stop," Ben volunteered. "Um... there was a guy who graduated last year who had a serious hate-on for him. Julian Ellis."
Booth pulled his notepad from his pocket. "Any idea where he is now?"
"New York, I think? I didn't care much for him. I only know what circulates on the alumni Facebook page." Ben gestured to the door. "They probably won't stay much longer unless I get them working or you two force them to."
Booth rose to his feet. "Let's line 'em up, then."
The interviews went fast and furious, Booth allowing Sweets to take the lead and nitpick the psychological details he wanted. Aside from a lot of egotistical attitudes and stagehands excited about finally being able to put their own ideas to work, most of the information was useless from a case standpoint. Marina Ainsley and Raj Banwatt, however, had interesting tidbits to share.
"She was getting letters from a secret admirer," Marina explained to them. "In her locker, at first, then in the dressing room this summer."
"How many letters did she get?" Booth asked.
"Oh God, at least ten I know of. They were very sweet. Shy. Poetic." Marina smiled wistfully. "Violet was really surprised that someone would go to such trouble over her. I think she eventually asked him to meet her and confess his identity."
"When was this?"
Marina frowned. "Actually, it was right before she... Oh god, you don't think the admirer took her, do you?"
Booth glanced at Sweets. Yup, he probably did.
"It could be completely unrelated," Booth lied. "Just in case, do you know where Violet kept the letters?"
"No, sorry. Violet didn't socialize much outside of class. We mostly hung out in rehearsal spaces and at lunch." Marina's arms hugged herself. "I miss her."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Sweets said gently. "If you happen to think of anything else, don't hesitate to call us."
Poor girl, Booth thought as she left. Probably blaming herself for not cautioning Violet about the letter guy. Speaking of, he'd grab a warrant for her apartment and go hunt for the letters tomorrow.
Raj Banwatt was their final interview, and although he was a smug asshole that immediately annoyed Booth, he did offer up confirmation of his suspicions.
"He's totally fucking Kimberly," the lithe actor blurted out.
"How do you know?" Booth asked. Many students had expressed suspicions of it, but no one had offered evidence.
"I saw them!" he replied.
"You saw Francis Laroche and Kimberly Demetrios having sex?" Sweets asked.
Raj smirked. "Well, not sex, but the way they were kissing, they were definitely well acquainted, if you know what I mean."
"Where was this?" Booth asked.
"Right where you're sitting," Raj said with a chuckle.
Both men bolted to their feet with a shudder.
"Well, uh, thank you for that lovely visual," Booth grumbled.
"Hey man, don't worry: stains would show on a black couch. Looks clean from here," Raj quipped.
"Yeah, goodbye," Booth snapped, practically shoving him out the door.
"What now?" Sweets asked.
"We head to the Jeffersonian, where I can take a decontamination shower," Booth replied with disgust. "And then, I send my SUV in for a cleaning, since our clothes will be touching the seats for a good hour on the drive back."
Sweets cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "Please."
"What?"
"Like you and Dr. Brennan have never gotten up to anything in the –"
"Shut the hell up now, Sweets, or you're walking back to Washington."
As they walked outside, Booth shook his head. How'd the damn kid know? And how would he explain needing another interior clean so quickly? I'm blaming Hodgins. Bug slime. Cam covered in guts. He'd speak gross at them and they'd never question it. And then? Burning this suit.
Pulling out onto the road, he dialed Bones on speakerphone to fill her in on their latest information. The phone rang three times before a distracted voice answered.
"Brennan."
"Hey Bones, it's me and Sweets. We're leaving Morgan Ashford now."
"Oh, give me a moment..." There was a rustling sound of some sort and soft footsteps and at last, she spoke again. "Sorry, cellular reception is substandard in Limbo today. Angela suggests the incoming storm is to blame."
Booth glanced out at the sky. "Sky's clear here."
"Well, you're driving into the front, so please take care while driving back," she replied, a hint of concern in her words. "Was your visit useful?"
"Yes, Dr. Brennan. I was able to gather the information Angela and I spoke about for the students and key staff," Sweets said.
"That's Psychology," she scoffed. Booth chuckled at her dismissive comment. "Did we learn anything about a potential suspect?"
"Well the stage manager mentioned a student who graduated who definitely didn't like Laroche. I'm betting it's a dead end, but we'll check out his alibi. Another student mentioned that Violet's date the night she disappeared had been writing her anonymous letters for weeks."
"Letters? You mean love letters?"
"Yeah Bones, why?"
"Well, Hamlet wrote love letters to Ophelia," she explained.
Sweets tapped his pen loudly on his legal pad. "That fits with Fisher's hypothesis."
"Does anyone know who the admirer was?" Brennan asked.
"No, but I figure we'll tell Caroline and get a warrant to clean out Violet's apartment," Booth replied. "There's something else interesting too: Laroche has been a little too friendly with Kimberly Demetrios."
"Well, that's obvious. Only a friend would lie and tell her that she was a talented vocal performer. Her audition was terrible," his partner noted with clear disdain.
"No Bones, he's been having sex with her," Booth clarified.
"Oh!" She paused, then muttered, "Ew."
Booth fought the urge to laugh. At least she was in better spirits today.
"We should really speak with her again," Sweets said.
"Absolutely. She might connect us to Violet's secret admirer," Booth agreed.
"Or she could be the secret admirer," Sweets countered.
"Kimberly's a lesbian?" Brennan asked.
"We're operating on a clear gender bias here," Sweets said. "Dr. Brennan, is there any reason a woman could not have committed these murders?"
After a moment's pause, she replied, "No. Given the sedation inherent in every act and the passive administration in particular with Laroche, a female assailant is plausible. The use of concrete and the precision required to avoid positional asphyxia might have been difficult given his size, but not impossible with an unconscious and pliant body."
"So you're saying Kimberly might not be a victim at all," Booth concluded.
"She had motive to want Violet gone. Perhaps Evan rekindled things with Violet. And maybe Laroche threatened to not come through for her in spite of her casting couch antics," Sweets summarized.
"Ugh, did you have to remind me of the damn couch?" Booth groaned.
"Kimberly Demetrios could be our killer, or an accomplice," Sweets insisted.
"Like a real life Lady Macbeth," Brennan mused aloud.
"Something wicked this way comes," Sweets quoted darkly.
You know, I have to tell you: the gender bias is so rampant on crime shows, Bones included. Always a default "he"... (And yes, as someone with a degree in Criminology, I know the statistics, but open minds should always be kept. You never know! ;) )
I'll see you next Wednesday with a steamcleaned Booth and more mystery goodness! If you need another story fix, there's always The Mixed Tape. I'm also trying to get you another one shot before Christmas over at The Bites Of The Partnership Pie (Vegas, strippers, good times). Stay tuned!