Chapter Three - Red Herring Christmas

Mrs. Ricketts, Albert Howard's sister, appeared quite diminutive compared to her husband, Tom, who was tall and looming as he, along with his wife greeted the two CBI agents at the door. Mrs. Ricketts smiled nervously, her waxy, blonde locks, swept up in loose ringlets behind her head, bounced happily as she rambled in a hypnotizing animation - which seemed an odd contrast with her mascara streaked face. "Please, forgive my appearance. I haven't been able to get myself together all day. "

"It's quite alright." Agent Lisbon assured, following her from the entrance to the front room. Van Pelt toddled along behind her, staring at the décor.

The house was as well put together as Mrs. Ricketts, minus the smeared makeup. There were two fireplace mantles, white and lined with picture frames and crystal trinkets. Two warm, crackling flames flickered underneath the mantles in uniform rhythm.

Both Van Pelt and Lisbon sat down upon the short white couch, while the lady of the house perched herself rigidly upright on the edge of the matching white chair as if preparing for an interview. She wrung her hands while chattering. "I couldn't imagine Chris being responsible for something like this. He's such a nice old man. And well, he is old."

Her husband, Tom Ricketts, was leaning against the mantle, arms folded until she began to speak. His jaw worked under his skin until he could hardly bear it. Dropping his arms, he cut her off sharply. "Belle, you can't be serious. "

"About what Tom? " She scowled. "Honestly, why do you find it so hard to have some compassion? Chris is a sweet old man, even if he is a little …"

"Crazy in the head? Yea, that's what he wants you to think. Probably what he wanted your brother to think too. "

"Okay." Lisbon blew out. "Mr. Ricketts, why do suspect him? Did he do or say something that would … "

"I …Look, I'm not stupid."

"No one said you were." Van Pelt stared at him unblinkingly.

"Let's just say, I've seen his type before."

Lisbon tilted her head. "And what type would that be?"

"The type who weasels his way in, gains trust and then robs you blind. Look, it's pretty obvious right? Howie's stabbed to death in his own front yard and there's Chris with his blood all over him? What more evidence do you need? "

"Oh Tom." Belle sobbed into her handkerchief, and then she bolted up, heels clicking rapidly on the linoleum floor as she turned her back on both her visitors and her husband.

"There! You see!" He whined, glaring at Lisbon. "Is that why you came here? To further upset my wife?"

"No, looks like you've done that just fine on your own." Van Pelt frowned, her boss shooting her a look that said she'd spoken enough.

Lisbon fixed her eyes on Ricketts for a moment, as he stared off towards the direction his wife had stomped, and then she took a breath. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Ricketts. We might have a few more questions for you at a later time. We'll be in touch."

"Wait, wait, please." Belle pleaded, clicking her heels back towards them.

"Yes Ma'am."

Belle blinked at Van Pelt and then continued. "When will they set bail for Chris?"

"Well, actually, he hasn't been charged with anything. " Lisbon admitted. "So, no bail is necessary at this time."

"Thank you." Belle gushed. "Thank you so much. He …If you don't mind ..My brother trusted him. And I trusted my brother's judgment more than any other."

"We understand." Lisbon assured, she and Van Pelt closing in on the door. They were happy to step out into the fresh air, leaving the festering couple to themselves.

Rigsby and Jane had left Cho in the office, staring at Rigsby's tree until he'd eventually resolved to digging out a book from his collection under his desk. They'd watched him kick back his feet, while leaning into his seat and spreading open the book, effectively blocking his face from their view. Rigsby had a nice comment forming in his head, but thought better of it, grabbing the car keys and heading to the door.

He would have been within his rights, given how much he'd been razzed about his Christmas decoration, but he'd lost some of his inspiration within the solemnity of the drive back from the graveyard. That, and he had to keep reminding himself that there was one less gift to get this year, and somehow that made all the other gifts seem meaningless.

He was driving with one hand on the wheel and his elbow propped on the window sill, his hand cupped around the back of his neck. Jane watched him for a while and then he decided he would bring attention to the elephant in the car. Provoking people into talking about things they didn't want to discuss was a task of which he was well accustomed.

He'd noticed the distant look etched within the lines on Rigsby's face, and identified the lingering scent around him. "You wanna tell me what's on your mind?"

'My mind?" Rigsby answered distractedly.

"You're eyes are fixed on the middle line, and you've been white-knuckling the wheel since we left the station. I already know what's eating you, but I'm giving you the chance to tell me yourself."

"Yea?"

"Of course.." Jane affirmed. "You're thinking of Corin. You were with her at the cemetery, after you left the crime scene earlier."

Rigsby's head seemed to wrench itself sideways almost completely involuntarily of his will as he blurted. "How the hell? " And then he threw a hand up, waving it in the air. "Ah, forget it, look who I'm talkin to …"

"You had dirt on your shoes when you came into the office, and pine needles on your jacket. And there's a hint of Corin's perfume around you as well."

"You know my sister's perfume ..."

"You shouldn't make too much of that." Jane smiled, enjoying the tone in Rigsby's voice. While normally it was rather obvious which was the older of the two, Corin may as well have been Rigsby's teen aged sister, given the measure of protectiveness he'd cultivated towards her. This was something both cute and sometimes bordering on overbearing. "If I can flesh out hand lotion on a severed hand, it would stand to reason that I'd have no problem recognizing perfume on a living person."

Wayne sighed. The how and why just wasn't relevant at this point anyway. Not when he was already a bit gloomy and a little despondent even. He flicked a quick glance over to Jane and then admitted quietly. "I just … This has been so hard on her. Now it's Christmas and she's alone in that old house. I wanna do somethin nice, you know? "

"Turn up here." Jane nodded towards the stop light on the next corner. "Left at the light."

"Why?"

"We're just gonna make a little detour, trust me, you'll thank me afterwards."

'I don't know. Lisbon won't be happy if we're not where we're supposed to be."

"What?" Jane shrugged. "Interrogating the banker? Meh, it doesn't matter, he's innocent anyway."

"What?" Rigsby skeptically made the turn, frowning as he turned the wheel. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Seriously?" Jane tilted his head sideways while smirking.

"Ah hell, fine. Fine!" Rigsby rolled his eyes. It was another dumb question, how did Jane know half of what he did?

Jane flickered an amused smile before Rigsby leaned forward a little over the wheel.

"Okay, now what?"

"Now, make a right at the next corner. "

The next move after the right was another left and then they were cruising down a narrow street lined with various shops and eateries. Rigsby knew the area, but didn't frequent it much.

Jane directed him to the front of a small building, set sort of isolated from the other clusters. There was no parking lot, and so Rigsby pulled in along the curb. He stared at the sign, oblivious as to what Jane had in mind. "Windham Antiques? You wanna go shopping? "

Jane eyed him, while stepping up beside him. "Why? Are you allergic."

"Uh … I don't think so." Rigsby cut his eyes to the side, and then made his way to the door.

"Well, that's good to know." Jane bantered in return.

They entered, Rigsby shaking his head. "Lisbon is gonna be so pissed."

"Lisbon doesn't need to know - does she?"

"Hello gentleman." Their greeter was a short, stubby older gentleman with white hair. He was standing behind a counter surrounded by bells of different shapes and sizes. It looked as if he might have been sorting them when the two men came in the door.

"Hello Clarence." Jane responded with a cheeky grin. "Mr. Rigsby and I are gonna have a look around."

"Oh, sure … Sure."

"But we'll be needing your assistance in a few minutes."

Rigsby frowned as Jane said this while Clarence responded. "Oh, of course. I'll be right here if you need me."

"What?" Jane blew out, aiming himself towards the back of the store. He ambled along, one foot in front of the other, hands entwined behind his back.

Rigsby cut a glance to the front at the sound of a tinkling bell, and got a glimpse of Clarence holding it in his hand, turning it around and then upside down. Was Jane truly oblivious to the irony? He frowned, and then huffed. "Nothin."

He was ready to put his foot down and demand they leave when something stopped him. Something sitting so inconspicuous, and yet so completely breathtakingly that everything else around it seemed small and insignificant. It wasn't elaborate or overstated, but Rigsby couldn't keep his eyes off of it. Perhaps it was because it seemed to be silently whispering Corin's name into every corner of the room.

Jane let the hint of a smile peak through. "Do you, see something you like?"

Rigsby was glowing, something Jane had never witnessed outside of whenever Van Pelt slipped him a word of positive affirmation on occasion. Rigsby turned to answer, and then started a little when his cell rang. "Yea boss."

"Rigsby, where the hell are you?"

"Sorry boss. We've been caught in traffic."

'Uhhuh. Well, you'd better haul ass before the bank closes."

"Sure thing." He said, and then he handed the phone to Jane. 'She wants to talk to you."

Jane winked and then stuck the phone to his ear. "Lisbon, darling, how are you?"

"I …" She stammered. "Very funny. Van Pelt and I spoke with the sister and her husband. The sister is a mouse."

"Really? I suppose the husband is a control freak then."

"That's an understatement." She confirmed.

"He stared at the floor, squinting a bit. "What does he do for a living? The brother- in -law?"

"Um, he's an attorney, specializing in finances."

"Really? Why does that not surprise me? "

"Is that a real question?" She said this wondering if anything ever surprised Jane.

"Well, no not really. You know, it's just what people say …"

"Okay, okay …." She stopped him before he painfully continued. "Obviously you have a theory."

"Lisbon, I'm impressed." He admitted, watching Rigsby examining the object before him, and then motioning for Clarence. "Either you're getting more observant or I'm slipping. Whichever the case, yes. It would probably be reasonable to assume that the brother -in-law must have had some kind of involvement in Howie's financial matters."

"That's right. " She affirmed. " He was trying to prevent Mr. Howard from going under."

"Ah." Jane stuck a finger in the air. "And that's where the error lies. Evidently this brother-in-law had reasonably assessed Howie's financial condition, why would he accuse Santa of ciphering money? Money that Howie clearly did not have?"

As usual, Jane had managed to hone in on the simplest of clues. This characteristic never ceased to amaze his fellow comrades. Lisbon rolled her tongue around in her mouth for a few seconds and then she nodded. "Okay, so now what? Call in the brother-in-law?"

"Actually …No. "

"Oh good grief, now what?" She clenched her eyes shut, wishing she hadn't asked that out loud. Here it came, she heard it even before it came out of his mouth.

"Actually .."

"You have a plan." She said simultaneously to his. "I have a plan."

"Indeed." Jane smiled, nodding at Rigsby and giving him a thumbs up.

He flipped the phone shut. "So, where were we?"

"Well, I think it's too late to get to Potter now." Rigsby admitted.

"Yup."

But then Rigsby smiled, tracing a finger along the treasure he'd scored. "But I don't care. Do you really think she's gonna like this?"

"Are you serious?" He grinned, showing a line of straight white teeth. "You might wanna bring along a paper bag and a pillow too."

"Huh?"

"For when she hyperventilates and then faints."

"Oh." Rigsby chuckled, not certain if he was supposed to or not. Then his brows narrowed. "You think?"

"What I think, Rigsby, is that she'll love it and it will probably be the best gift you've ever given her."

"Thanks man." He nodded, Jane picking up a misty look in his eye.

He wrapped up the sale with Clarence and then he and Jane headed for the door, the sound of tinkling bells echoing behind them. Rigsby slapped jane on the back. "Seriously, thanks man."

"For what?" He feigned, slipping into the passengers side.

"Oh no way." Rigsby blurted, handing him the keys.

"What? I get to drive? Rigsby, really, that's so touching!"

"Just don't tell Lisbon." He responded, feeling a bit of nausea from the warm, fuzzy sounding tone in Jane's voice, and then quickly pulled back before it got any weirder.

Jane all but skipped to the drivers side, plopped in and watched Rigsby settle into the passenger side. He slide the key in and then smiled. "So, where did Van Pelt say we were having this party?"

He could see Rigsby from the corner of his eye, knowing exactly the effect he was aiming for. He pulled out into the street, noting Rigsby's mouth curving up at the corners. Rigsby grabbed the phone from his pocket, in full grin and dialed. "Yea, Van Pelt? About this party…"

A/N - Sorry, this was supposed to be finished by Christmas, but I got distracted with other things. I hope you enjoy!