Author's note: Sorry it took a while. School is still in session. The next one should be faster, though, since I've been writing it with this one.
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. However, I'm off to see the Wizard. Maybe he'll have something in that black bag for me.
The black sedan pulled up right in front of the bar, and Booth stepped out and moved quickly around to Brennan's side. He opened her door and she stepped out, looking at the darkened sign.
"It looks like they're closed," she said.
"Yeah, a few minutes ago," Booth responded, stepping up behind her and following her gaze to the letters above the entrance.
She looked back at the car and said, "You know you can't park here, right?"
"Sure I can. Government plates."
"It's in front of a fire hydrant," she pointed out.
He shrugged. "Well, if there's a fire, I'll move it. Come on, I'll bet the bartender is still cleaning up." He nudged her back to make her go forward. They got to the door and he tried it. It was unlocked.
A bell jingled over the doorway, and an older man came out of the back room drying a glass with a dishtowel.
"Sorry, folks, we're closed for the ni—"
"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to put the glass down," Booth interrupted.
"Booth, I don't think there's a hidden detonation device in the rag," Brennan muttered.
"No, Bones, but that glass could have the prints from our perp," he answered testily.
"Right. Sorry."
The man had put down the glass and rag, and was now eyeing the pair warily. "Uh, excuse me, but…prints? Perp? Am I in trouble here?"
"No, sir," Booth answered, shifting his attention back to the man and flashing his badge. "But we have reason to believe that someone has been in here recently who may have committed a crime. We'll need to gather any evidence there is."
"Oh, well I'm glad to help in any way I can. What does this guy look like?" the man asked, looking at Booth's badge interestedly.
"See, here's the thing," Booth started, "we don't actually know."
"You don't know?" he asked in confusion.
"We're not even sure if it's a man or a woman," Brennan explained. "We're just going off of something sent to my office this morning. There was a note—"
"That's enough, Bones," Booth cut her off, then turned to the bartender. "Mr., uh…"
"Gale. Henry Gale," he said proudly. "Like in the movie. People call me Uncle Henry."
"That's clever," Booth feigned interest. "Right, Mr. Gale—"
"Uncle Henry," Tempe corrected out of the corner of her mouth.
He shot her a look and then turned back to the man. "Uncle Henry…have you had any customers tonight that acted suspicious? Can you remember anything at all that seemed odd to you?"
"Now you mention it, there was this one guy. He was one of my last customers. Ordered one drink and downed it, then ordered another one and left before I even got back to the bar with it. Left a 20 on the bar, too. Drink only cost three bucks."
"Do you still have that twenty?" Booth asked eagerly.
"Yeah, I think so. It had writing on it, only I don't recall what it said."
"Can we see the money, please?" Booth pressed insistently.
"Oh, sure. Lemme just open the safe." He went into the back room, with Booth and Brennan right behind him.
"Uncle Henry," Tempe began, "what did the man order?"
"That would be the Twister. One of my own special mixes. I can make you one if you'd like."
"No, sir, that's alright," she said quickly.
"You said he ordered a Twister?" Booth asked interestedly.
"Yep. You want one?"
Booth held up his hand and said, "Can't. I'm on the job. Do you happen to know if the glass he used is still available? For prints?"
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I was just drying the last glass of the night."
"That's alright. We might be able to get something off of that twenty dollar bill," Booth said pointedly.
"Right! The twenty." He went to the wall safe and started spinning the wheel. The door clicked and Uncle Henry pulled it open and removed a bank pouch. He unzipped it and started to reach into the bag.
"No!" Booth said urgently. "Sorry, but, uh…we need to preserve the evidence as best as we can."
"Right, of course! Here you go, then," he handed the pouch over to Booth.
Brennan handed over a pair of gloves without prompting and Booth snapped them on. Then he reached into the pouch and pulled out a bundle of twenties bound with a rubber band. He started sifting through them and came upon one with a message in red ink.
IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME, LOOK TO THE WESTERN SKY
Temperance stood beside him and read the message.
"Another reference to that…Wizard of Id?"
"Oz, Bones. It's The Wizard of Oz," Booth said testily. "The Wizard of Id is a comic strip."
"Sorry," she said. "So is it another quote?"
Booth shook his head and said, "Well, there was the Wicked Witch of the West, but…I don't think there was ever actually a line like—"
"Wicked!" Uncle Henry blurted out.
"What?" Booth and Bones said simultaneously, looking up at him.
"I knew it sounded familiar. It's from that Broadway show Wicked."
Tempe shook her head and Booth furrowed his brow in confusion and said, "I don't think I'm familiar with that one."
"You're kidding!" the man exclaimed in disbelief. "I thought everyone has heard about it. It's about how the Wicked Witch became wicked. It's very good. I've got the CD, if you want to listen."
Booth shook his head and said, "No, Mr. Gale, that won't be neces—"
"That would be great, Uncle Henry," Tempe interrupted. She turned to Booth and added quietly, "We might be able to pick up on more clues if we know a little about the musical, too."
He nodded his head at her, then at Uncle Henry, who seemed quite pleased with himself for being of service to the FBI.
While Uncle Henry went back into the storeroom for the CD, Booth and Brennan sat at the bar and leaned forward to take a closer look at the money that now resided in a clear evidence bag.
Booth's brow was furrowed in thought and his lips were moving silently while his hands twitched. Brennan was watching him.
"Booth?"
"I was just thinking…" he began.
"I can see why that would take effort," she quipped.
He shot her a look and continued, "I was thinking, that maybe we missed something about the sign over the door."
"What brought that on?"
"If you're on the street, and you face west, the sign is the first thing you see."
She nodded her head and a smirk presented itself. "Is that why you were twiddling your fingers and talking to yourself?"
"You know what, Bones? I don't recall you coming up with a theory."
"Okay, okay. Let's check it out," she said appeasingly.
They got up from the bar and Booth called to the back room, "Uncle Henry, we're going outside to check something out. We'll be right back."
"Sure thing," he responded.
Booth pushed the door open and let Temperance pass in front of him. They stepped onto the sidewalk and both looked up at the darkened sign. Theytook out their flashlights and focused them on the letters.
Booth gave a dry chuckle.
"What?"
"It's a twister, it's a twister!" he mimicked, pointing the beam of his light on the tornado jutting out from the building next to the bar's name.
Bones looked at him, but said nothing. Instead she squinted her eyes and looked at something perched on top of the ornament.
"Is that…" she started.
"A skull," he finished.
They looked at each other, then scrambled back through the door.
"Uncle Henry," Tempe called out. He was sitting next to a stereo fiddling with the buttons.
"Yes'm?"
"Do you have a ladder?"
"No, sorry. Will a bar stool do?"
She looked at one of the perches and nodded. "Yeah, that might work." Booth grabbed the bar stool and opened the door again, setting it underneath the twister. Uncle Henry followed them out curiously.
Booth started to get on the stool, but Brennan grabbed the back of his coat. "I believe I'm the forensic anthropologist here," she said.
He held up his hands and backed away from the chair. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and he held her arm as she climbed up.
"There's a note wedged in the teeth," she called down after a short visual inspection. She pulled a small digital camera out of her pocket and took about a dozen pictures before repocketing the camera and pulling out a small forensics kit.
"Got anything else in that black bag?" Booth muttered to himself.
"I heard that," she said as she extracted the paper from the skull. She replaced the kit inside her pocket and pulled out her flashlight to examine the paper. As she unrolled the paper, she lost her grip on the light, and in her scrambling to catch it before it fell, she lost her balance on the stool. Booth was quick to catch her as she fell backwards.
"You know, Bones, you'd think that with your history, you'd be a little more careful, huh?" he joked as he set her on her feet.
"Yeah, I'll try to keep that in mind," she answered distractedly, as she set the note on the barstool to examine it.
IF I ONLY HAD A BRAIN
-M. Crowe
"This one's signed," she pointed out unnecessarily.
"Yeah," Booth said, squinting in thought. "I don't think it's our guy's real name, but I do think I know where this clue is leading."
"Where?" Tempe asked as Booth started to walk back inside. "Hey, Booth! Where does this one lead us?"
"Call your guys," he threw back over his shoulder. "They'll need to pick up this skull. And make it ASAP." To Uncle Henry, he said, "Do you have a phone book? Yellow pages would be great."
Uncle Henry pointed to the pay phone in the corner, from which dangled a white and yellow pages volume. Booth flipped to a section and started skimming the list. Brennan was on her cell phone right next to him, watching him trace the page with his finger.
"Yeah, a skull," Tempe paused as she listened to the other end of the conversation. "No, I really need you to pick this thing up now. We've got another lead." With a quick goodbye, she hung up the phone and focused all her attention on what her partner was doing.
"There," he said triumphantly, pointing to an entry.
"A psychologist?" Brennan asked.
"Named Marcus Crowe. And check out the names of his partners."
Tempe read them aloud. "Samuel Ruby and Joseph Gale."
"Ruby slippers? Another Gale?" Booth prompted.
Temperance nodded her head in understanding. "As soon as my guys get here, we'll go."
"Hail Dorothy!"
Brennan just gave Booth a blank look, and they both sat down at the bar to wait for the forensics team.
To be continued…
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