Sorry it took so long to update, I've been swamped with school. *shrug* Anywho, here you go, it's the 2nd chapter, it's not as good as the 1st though, but what sequel is?

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist.

Teresa, yet again, marveled at the usefulness and scrutiny of the ex-psychic. Within minutes, Jane had figured out how Mia was murdered. The egotistical blond continued to turn the girl's head this way and that, all the while allowing his pristine eyes to memorized ever detail, fault, and beauty mark of her fallen form. A sudden thought hit Teresa.

"How do you know it was murder? She could have accidentally swallowed the bees."

"They wouldn't be alive if she swallowed them," he countered effortlessly, in his usual distracted manner.

"Maybe they got stuck in her throat, choked her, and then flew out-"

"No," Jane stood as quickly as he sat and examined the brunette thoughtfully, "those bees were honey bees. If they would have stung her, they would have lost their stingers and died as their pathetic kind usually does. And the throat theory, tell me," he turned quickly to Cho as though giving one of his infamous quick-quizzes, "If you were a bee with delicate little wings and you were being crushed in someone's esophagus, would you have been able to fly out?" he gave no time for an answer. "No, I've seen this before…" he paused, quickly turning away the group. "See those red lines across her eyes? They're clear symptoms of allergies.

"She's allergic to bees?" Rigsby asked, just then entering the conversation. Jane shook his head.

"No, because allergies to bees are triggered by stings and I don't want to explain the whole bee sting equals death thing. It's honey she's allergic to," Jane finished with a flourish.

"How the heck did honey get in there if there's only bees in there?" Cho asked, jumping in. Jane gave him a don't-be-daft look.

"If you lived in a hive full of honey, wouldn't you get honey on your six feet?"
"Yes…"

"There you go," Jane put a hand on his shoulder for a few agonizing seconds before taking it off and turning to talk to Teresa. .

"Okay, as much as I hate to admit it and as much as anyone else knows it, I'm going to say it anyway: Jane was right, Mia had allergies to honey. Where there was missing hairs on her nape, there was also traces of duct tape; just as Jane said," applause lit up the air and Jane gave a slight bow at the waist. Lisbon paused and then continued when the noise stopped.

"Anyway, we believe the bees were forced into her mouth and then the duct tape was placed over it to keep them in," as she paused, she noticed Jane's usual giddy, kid-at-Christmas expression was gone, replaced by an apathetic and an almost, if she wasn't mistaken, scared look.

"That's a horrible way to die…" he whispered to himself but she heard anyway.

"You got that right. The murder who killed her must have either really not liked her or had serious mental problems," Lisbon noticed Jane jump at being heard.

"Or, they loved her too much," Jane shot in as a man walked into the doors of the room they were in, his facial expression worried. Jane and Lisbon, as one, stood and walked up to the man like an impenetrable wall of… something.

"Hello, Mr. Carter!" Jane said in his way-too-cheery-I-must-be-hi voice. The man immediately stopped raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hello…" he replied, slightly unsure.

"Hi, can we help you?" Lisbon said briskly, cutting in where Jane was about to jump in and more than likely, scare him off.

"Yes, I'd like to know what's come along with my daughter's case," he eyed Lisbon, the same eyebrow that was raised a minute ago arched up to a brown tent.

"That's not why you came," Jane wagged a finger at him, chiding him as he'd probably chided Mia many times. He looked at the finger as though it were some disgusting intrusion into his clean little bubble instead of a probably highly-hand sanitized finger.

"And how would you know why I came? Why else would I come?"

"To offer assistance? Maybe you have some clues, maybe your bathroom at home stopped working and we happened to be close. I don't know, tell ME why you came."

"My daughter, bless her soul, was dating a strange boy. His name was Johnny Earl," he paused from his crying and blowing his nose in a white handkerchief to look at Cho. "You got that? Johnny Earl, two n's and a y."

"Yes," Cho reassured, "we have it. What's the importance of it?" Patrick readjusted his spot next to the interrogator. Every time the man brought his hands up to blow his nose, the light of the dim lighting glinted off of his Stafano Ricci 'wheel' cufflinks. The gel in his dark hair almost matched the brilliance of the glinting links. Even at the distance of half a room, the smell of Clive Christian cologne wafted over as though the man bathed in it. Around his eyebrows that kept jumping up around Lisbon, a pale pinkness bloomed and white glinted off the tips of his newly polished nails.

"Like I said, he was a strange boy. Every time he would pick up Mia, he'd never come up to the door, he'd just sit out in the driveway and honk his horn until my sweet daughter'd go down and say goodbye." Patrick suddenly felt burning in this nose. He reached a hand forward and yanked the handkerchief out of his grasp and retrieved it just in time to sneeze into it. After making a big show of blowing his nose and rubbing his nose, Patrick daintily held out the hanky.

"Thank you," and then he sniffed. Ryan Carter stared at the cloth and gave a small cough of disgust.

"You can keep it," he muttered. Patrick grinned and stuffed the handkerchief into his vest pocket, so it poked out regally.

"Anyway…" Cho dragged the word out so it sounded exasperated, though he was amused by the activities of his comrade. "Is that he did?"

"Well, you should've seen the way he looked at her. He would come in every now and then, and when he did, he'd just stare at her. Like she was some brilliant crystal statue, he'd stare! Even when I'd pick her up from school, when she'd get in he'd follow her every movement," he shuddered.

"How long had they dated?" Patrick cut in.

"About six months." The blonde nodded his mouth slightly open. Suddenly, the dad stood and licked his lips. "That's all I had for you, I just wanted to make sure that you had the right guy." And he left, leaving a cloud of perfume almost like some toxic cloud. A three hundred-dollar toxic cloud, Patrick thought.

"Okay, I guess it's time to investigate some adolescence…" Cho muttered to the walls.

Black, ruffled hair. That was the first thing Patrick noticed about the boy. His hair looked rather like that vampire's from that new movie or book everyone's swooning over, only black. His eyes seemed to roam around the room, as though being somewhere for the first time, though it was his own living room. He had on a pair of dark skinny jeans and a tight fitting band t-shirt. Isn't The Devil Wear's Prada a chick flick?

"Mr. Earl?" Lisbon asked, drawing the attention of his father and the boy who both turned to look at her. "Younger."

"Yeah?" He replied, his voice fluid like a singer's.

"I hear you were dating Mia Carter?" Patrick noticed that at the sound of the departed's name, his eyes closed off whatever they were revealing.

"Was." He put emphasis on the word. "I just… I can't believe she's gone. She was great, funny, and beautiful," he sighed. It shook with his apparent sadness and quivered like Jell-O.

"Her father says you were obsessed with her," Patrick says, stretching the truth as he usually did. The gated eyes now opened and anger flooded out.

"Her father was a idiot. He didn't care about his family." He sniffed disdainfully before continuing. "And half the time he wasn't home, so I'm not sure how he would know."

"Really?"

"Really!" Johnny stood up. "He's too busy with his brother's company he never even knew anything about Mia, so I think he should shut his glossed up lips and keep his nose out of his daughter's business and go put it in one of the meat processor's of the plant!"

"So, his brother owns a meat processing company?" Rigsby asked, leaning over VanPelt's shoulder to get a look at the Soduko puzzle she was doing. Teresa was about to answer when Jane piped up from the couch.

"Nope. He owns Cart&Carter. They make everything there," he sat up straight. "See these shoes," he pointed to a brown leather shoe. "It's a Cart&Carter creation, and these cufflinks, same thing…" and then he stood up and walked over to VanPelt's desk. He gently picked up her bag of coffee next to her computer desk and examined it. "Even this bag of coffee was made there. They're like some sort of Monopoly."

"Over what?" Cho asked.

"Over everything!" Jane laughed and sat down on the redhead's desk.

"I thought that was illegal," Teresa said. Jane grinned.

"It is. Just not for them."

Yayz! It's done! And I've got the next one started so hang tight! And, I run on Starbucks and reviews so please... review!