Patrick Jane walked into his attic work space with an air of anticipation. He felt he was making some progress on determining the identity of Red John, using the information given to him by Lorelai Martins and the notes he was making in his little black notebook.
He stopped, just inside the doorway, his senses on the alert and blaring. Standing statue still, he tried to spot the difference. It was something in the air—the hint of a fragrance, perhaps. Two fragrances. One, a cheap aftershave, of the kind a young man might
wear. He would guess the young officer who brought it from the mailroom. The second, more refined, feminine, with notes of rose and gardenia and a citrus undertone. Subtle. It spoke of class, of breeding, of old money.
A large white envelope propped on his desk, with delicate flowers embossed around the edges and his name written on the front in the bold, fancy script of a calligrapher's pen. Interesting. Turning the envelope over, he noticed it was sealed with wax and stamped with the sender's seal—two interlocking S's.
Knowing that a letter opener wouldn't break the seal, he withdrew a small, black leather zippered pouch from his pocket and chose a slender nail file. Sliding that under the flap, he broke the seal. After a moment, he drew out an invitation and read silently.
"Shana Selkirk requests the honor of your presence for afternoon tea at her residence this afternoon at Four O' Clock sharp."
The address was written below that in a neat cursive.
Jane turned the invitation over and over in his hands, gleaning what he could from it. He wondered who this Shana Selkirk was, and why she was inviting him to tea. For a moment, he debated whether it was a trap. Someone Red John was using to try to lure him to that address for some reason. He dismissed the idea. The script was bold and the calligrapher confident. There was no deception that he could detect in either the wording or the script. His sixth sense wasn't screaming that something wasn't right, and usually that meant that all was well.
Whether it was a trap or not, he would go. There was no question there. His natural curiosity was both blessing and fatal flaw, and once he had read that invitation, there was no going back. He had to know what this was about.
Still, it might be prudent to know what the CBI knew about this person before he showed up there. Still thinking hard, he made his way downstairs. Theresa Lisbon was typing away at her computer when he arrived in the hallway outside of her office. He stuck his head inside and asked, "Am I interrupting?"
"No, I'm just auditing the files for the cases we've worked over the past three months. The quarterly audit is coming up, and I want to be sure they're complete and up to date."
"They always are."
Lisbon noticed the envelope in his hand.
"What's that?" She asked.
"An invitation to tea," Jane said.
"With whom?"
"A woman named Shana Selkirk." Jane had a puzzled look on his face.
Lisbon gasped. "Shana Selkirk? Of the San Diego Selkirks?"
"I assume so. Who are the San Diego Selkirks?" Jane asked.
"Only one of the wealthiest and most influential families in San Diego. Close personal friends with governors, congressmen, and maybe even a President or two. The family's patriarch and a former governor died a month or so ago under questionable circumstances. I'd bet this Shana is either his wife or sister," Lisbon answered, almost under her breath.
"And you think she's requesting our assistance in finding his killer?" He asked.
"What else would she be doing?"
"Want to come along?"
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this."
4:00 The Same Afternoon
Jane and Lisbon arrived at the address on the invitation. They walked up to the front door and Jane grasped the antique cast iron lion's head door knocker ring and rapped on the door several times. The door opened a fraction and they found themselves facing a middle aged Hispanic man with salt and pepper hair.
"May I help you?" He asked.
"I'm Patrick Jane and I received an invitation to meet one Mrs. Shana Selkirk for tea this afternoon," Jane answered.
The man smiled widely. "Yes, sir. Please, come inside. You may wait in the sitting room."
He led them down a long hallway, through a set of double French doors, and into a smaller, more intimate room of the home. It was well appointed, and very feminine. The Hispanic man, whom Jane had long since decided was the butler, directed them to seats on the velvet sofa, and then left, closing the door behind him.
After about twenty minutes had passed, Jane was beginning to wonder if they would ever meet their hostess, when the door opened, and footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, accompanied by the metal click of a cane. An ancient woman with solid white hair which flowed down her back, tied behind the base of her neck in a ponytail, stalked into the room as though she owned it, and seated herself behind her desk.
"Mister Jane, thank you for coming. Would you care to introduce me to your lovely lady-friend."
"This is Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI. I partner with her when I consult on cases for that organization."
"Well, Mister Jane and Agent Lisbon, welcome. Our tea is set up in the Rose Garden. It is the one place I have a reasonable chance of not being overheard. Please," She motioned to a set of French doors that opened into a large garden, and then led the way through them. Lisbon and Jane followed. She started down a stone path that led around beside the house. After a few minutes, she had to stop and rest. Jane moved up beside her and spoke quietly.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'll be fine. The Rose Garden is over here."
He offered her his arm, and she took it. She allowed him to support her to the table that had been set up in the rose garden, and hold her chair for her. Then, he moved around and held a chair for Lisbon. When she was seated, he moved around to his own chair, directly across from Shana Selkirk, and seated himself.
There were a few moments of silence, while their hostess heated water and uncovered a tray with six small canisters, a pair of tongs, and a wicker basket on it. She placed a teacup and saucer in front of each of them. Each teacup had a tea infuser ball inside.
"These six small canisters each contain a different, unique blend of tea, which you will not find anywhere else. Feel free to explore them and choose your favorite. Help yourselves to cookies or pastries." With that, she took the top off of the wicker basket.
Grinning like a little kid in a candy store, Jane took the canister in front of him, twisted the top off, and waved it under his nose, taking in the aroma. When he was satisfied that he knew that fragrance, he put the top back on, and moved to the next. He went through all six, and then back to one of them. Taking the tongs, he put some of the leaves in the infuser, delighted.
He turned to Lisbon, knowing that she didn't drink tea often, and preferred coffee. "Do you need help choosing?" He asked.
"I can make a pot of coffee, if you prefer," Shana Selkirk offered.
"No, please don't go to that trouble," Lisbon answered, and looking at Jane, she said, "Let's see how well you know me. You choose what I'll like best. Surprise me."
Flashing her his signature Jane smile, he said, "Okay," and set to work choosing a blend of tea for her. A moment later, the teapot whistled, and Shana poured theirs and then her own. Jane bobbed the infuser up and down in his cup, helping the tea to steep faster. When it had steeped enough, he took the infuser out, placed it on his saucer, and took a sip of the tea. His face lit up.
"This tea is fantastic. I must know where you found it."
"The tea leaves come from all over the world, but that's only part of the story. The other is how they are blended. I did that part, myself. When we are finished here, perhaps you would like to see my blending room."
"I would love to see it, but you didn't call me out here to introduce me to new blends of tea. You called me out here to talk about the death of your husband."
"Your reputation precedes you, Mister Jane. In a manner of speaking, yes, I called you to my home to talk about the death of my husband, or rather, one aspect of it. I called you out here because it is vitally important that what I am about to tell you isn't overheard by any member of my family."
"Why?" Lisbon asked, unable to help herself.
"Because my sons have convinced themselves that I am losing my mind, and they are trying to take over the estate. If they can accuse me of killing my husband, that will give them the leverage they need to lock me away and take over the estate."
"Did you kill your husband?" Jane asked, straight out.
"I'd like to say no, but the truth is, I don't know. My husband and I went to bed that night just like we have every night for the past 64 years, but when I woke up the next morning, he was lying there beside me, dead. He'd been strangled."
"And you are hoping that I can help you remember what happened? Is that right?"
"I wanted to ask for your help, yes. I'm a light sleeper, Mister Jane. If there were any sort of commotion, I would have heard it. That's what is leading my sons to say I'm losing my mind."
"If you are losing your faculties, that could be a problem. It is dangerous to hypnotize someone with memory issues. The good news is, there's an easy way to find out."
With those words, Jane set his tea down on the saucer in front of him, rose, and moved over to the sidebar. He found five small objects which he placed in his pockets. When he sat back down, he said, "I'm going to show you five objects. Then, a little later, I'm going to ask you to name the objects back to me."
One by one, he showed her the objects in his pockets. A lollipop, a finger bowl, a tea bag, a silver salt shaker, and a small gold ring. Tucking them away, he took out three finger bowls and a small rubber ball. He turned the bowls upside down, placed the ball underneath one of them, and started moving them around and around and side to side, in a sort of shell game.
"Keep your eye on the ball. Follow the ball." Finally, he stopped and asked, "Where's the ball?"
Wordlessly, Shana Selkirk pointed to one of the finger bowls. Jane smiled as he lifted it up. The ball sat underneath. He did it two more times, and each time, Shana Selkirk chose the correct finger bowl. After the third time, he stopped and looked at the woman across from him.
"How do I know you aren't lying to me about killing your husband?"
"Jane!" Lisbon gasped.
Shana Selkirk laid a hand on her arm. "No, It's okay." Looking back at Jane, she said, "I am aware of your…skills, Mister Jane." Seeing the way she was looking at him, she said, "Oh, I know you aren't a psychic. That sort of thing is just a parlor trick. However, you do have skills that might be useful to me in sorting all of this out. You read people for a living. What does your reading of me tell you?"
"I will answer your question in a moment. First, can you name the five objects I showed you a few moments ago?"
"A lollipop, a finger bowl, a tea bag, a silver salt shaker and a small gold ring."
"All right. You are used to the finer things in life, but money itself is not all that important to you. Rather, it is a means to an end. You loved your husband very much, and helped him build a name for himself in this part of California. You have an uncharacteristic honesty about you, and appreciate honesty in return. You support charities that help poor women and children. You have a soft spot for animals. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your memory and you are in full possession of your faculties, as of right now. Agent Lisbon, you are our witness for that."
Lisbon nodded. Jane locked eyes with the Selkirk matriarch seated across from him.
"I can help you find the answers you seek, but I have to ask you—what happens if it turns out that you did murder your husband?"
"I am prepared to turn myself in. Your Agent Lisbon can make the arrest, if that is the case."
"What are you hoping to gain if you didn't kill your husband?"
She studied him for a while, but didn't answer. He spoke again. "You have to know that even if you didn't kill him, the evidence I come up with is not the kind that will stand up in court."
"Oh, I know that. I'm aware that I may still go to jail. Even if I'm sentenced to life, I won't be there long. But, no matter how the case turns out, I'll know I didn't do it. That's enough for me."
"Is it?"
"I loved my husband, Mister Jane, and David loved me. I need to know what happened, for my own peace of mind.
"So you aren't worried about the family name?"
"I thought you read people for a living." Jane wasn't expecting that reaction. "I don't give a tinker's damn about the family name. The family's reputation will stand, or not, on its own merits. Soon, it won't be for me to worry with."
"That's the second time you've made reference to time. You're dying, aren't you?"
This time, she didn't answer. Not quite meeting his eyes, she nodded.
"How long?"
"A month. Maybe two."
The two of them engaged in a staring contest for a long moment, and then Jane nodded, satisfied.