Something Old, Something New (Chapter 4 of ?)
Authors: Roughian and ForeverLeyton
Rating: PG-13, again. Better luck next time.
Fandom: Crossover: Rizzoli and Isles/Callie and Arizona
Summary: Callie and Arizona head to Boston for the wedding of Arizona's long time best friend. But Bean Town is not as receptive as they expected: Callie meets Arizona's favorite ex; Maura's got an itch Jane wants to scratch. Oh, and there's a murder, too.
Chapter 4 Summary: The investigation gets personal, the Colonel gets interviewed and the ex-wife cries alibi. But things really get heated when Maura and Jane argue. Case heavy this round but our couples' will take some time to play in the next chapter.
"About my father?" Arizona swallowed and slid blindly into the armchair opposite the couch, grin fading and giggles drying up. "What about my father?"
Jane, edging a little further away from the bathrobe-clad Callie, glanced toward Maura and then back to Arizona. "He and Jason Whitestone had a relationship. One that apparently turned sour. Were you aware of this?"
"Years ago, after Tim died—my brother—dad sort of took Jason under his wing. Used to meet for golf and drinks to talk about finances," Arizona swallowed hard, realizing the rest of her statement's implication. "But recently, I assume they had a falling out of sorts. My dad won't talk about it...But, wait, Detective Rizzoli...you don't think my father—he was at a dinner, in Annapolis. My father may be retired, Detective Rizzoli, but you don't quit the Marines. He and my mother are in Annapolis, Maryland. A ceremony at the United States Naval Academy honoring sailors returning home from a tour in the Persian Gulf. You can…follow up."
Callie sighed, grimacing at the words she was about to utter. "Arizona, that was Friday night. "
"No," Arizona said as she stood up, pacing behind the chair. "He didn't do this. I don't care what you say, " she muttered, pointing at Jane. "There's no way."
"Hey, hey," Jane said, holding up her hands. "We don't know who did this, but your father has a serious connection with this man. And Ray Miller, your friend's new husband, said he saw your dad deck Jason at his bachelor party on Thursday night."
"You're kidding?" Arizona said, voice choking in a sob. "My father? My father, the decorated Marine, punching men in bars? I think you're mistaken, Detective."
Maura looked away, arms crossed tightly over her dress. Jane could tell she wanted nothing more than to speak up on Colonel Robbins' behalf.
"Look, Maura says your dad's a good guy. And I trust Maura. I still have to follow certain protocol," Jane said gently, watching the obviously distraught blonde pace in her bathrobe.
"Why don't you call your dad, Arizona? Maybe he can sort this out," Callie offered, knowing this had to be killing Arizona inside.
Arizona took a deep breath, blew it out and glanced toward the detective. "I'll call him now. The uh, my phone, is in the bedroom. I'll just…" She trailed off and headed in the direction of the bedroom but Jane stopped her with a quiet 'Arizona.'
"It would be best…it would be helpful if you made the call from here," Jane said, indicating the general area around her.
"I'm not going to—" But Arizona took another deep breath before she responded to Jane's veiled assumption that she would somehow tip her father off as to the direction of the investigation. "Fine," she muttered and stalked off.
"Um, Detective," Callie ventured, "can I—"
"Go," Jane replied.
When Callie stood and followed her wife, Maura moved to sit on the couch next to the detective. "Jane, listen to me."
"I know what you are going to say Maura. I have to follow this through."
"I understand," Maura agreed, "but listen to me first."
"Alright," Jane sighed, turning to face Maura more fully. "But talk fast."
"The Colonel…Arizona's father he's…tough, I guess."
"He's a Marine Colonel, Maur. I got tough."
"Right. But he's…honorable. He wouldn't kill a man unless it was absolutely necessary."
"That's not a very convincing defense. Where's the science, the proof, Dr. Isles?"
"The proof is the body, Jane. What was done to that man, it wasn't necessary. It was…emotional or frantic or…I don't know," she decided, shaking her head sadly. "I can't guess the emotions that may have been involved. I can only say that Colonel Robbins can kill with a single blow. He wouldn't have done this."
"She's right," Arizona announced, stepping back into the living room. Though she was still shaken, it was obvious a moment with Callie had helped the blonde gather her composure. "Even if you believe my father capable of murder, a trained Marine wouldn't kill a man the way Jason was killed. Anyway, I have my phone."
Jane glanced at Arizona and then looked back at the earnest expression on Maura's face. It was obvious the ME was looking for something, anything that would help to exculpate her friend's father.
Equally obvious, however, was the fact that Jane was withholding judgment. Nodding to Arizona, Jane only said, "Let's make the call.
Arizona nodded back in agreement, tightening the belt on her robe as she took a seat on the opposite sofa. An icy feeling of fear pumped through her veins, Not even the warm hand of Calliope on her back nor the empathetic wide-eyes of both Maura and her detective could help her right now.
Her fingers dialed methodically and she pressed the button on the side of the phone to turn on the speaker. For a few stagnant moments, the only sound was the ringing, and Arizona knew her dad would be asleep by now. She glanced woefully at Jane whose brows knitted together before the sound of, "Hello, Arizona?"
"Dad," Arizona breathed, the emotion evident in her voice. "Dad, I need to talk. I'm sorry if you're asleep."
"Arizona, what's the matter?" Daniel persisted. "Is everything okay? Is it Callie? Sofia? Arizona-"
"No, Daddy," Arizona said softly. "Sofia's okay. Mark called a few hours ago at bedtime. And Callie's right here beside me. It's—Dad, it's about Jason Whitestone."
"Did he say or do something dishonorable toward you or your wife, Arizona?" The Colonel stiffened, his sleepy tone still rift with a sternness that was palpable even through the phone. "Would you like me to speak to him?"
"No, Dad," Arizona sighed, trying to fight back tears. "I'm sitting here with a detective..." she paused. "He's been murdered. Y-Your name came up."
"What?" Colonel Robbins said loudly enough that a faint, "Daniel what's wrong?" could be heard in the background of the call. "Stay put Arizona, I'll be on the next red eye."
"Colonel, sir," Jane spoke up, watching Maura's gaze shift to the floor. "This is Detective Rizzoli with the Boston Police Department. I apologize for waking you in the middle of the night like this. We're at the Boston Police Department on 1628 McKendell Ave. I'll plan on meeting you there in—"
"As soon as possible Detective," Daniel replied. "I realize you're doing your job, Detective, but, please go easy on Arizona and Callie. They're not involved with that louse of a man."
"Dad, it's—"
"Will do, Colonel. If you'd, if uh, you'd like to get a lawyer in the meantime or have counsel present at the interview, you can call, I—"
"No, I won't be needing a lawyer. Like I said Detective, I will see you in a few hours. And Arizona, remember..."
"I know, Dad. I'm a good man in a storm. So are you."
The call ended and Arizona set her Blackberry down on the coffee table. She leaned back in her seat as Jane stood up.
"Well, Maura I think we should go. Arizona, if you talk to your father again you should really try to persuade him to get a lawyer."
"My father is a stubborn man, Detective," Arizona said with a rueful laugh.
At that, Maura and Callie's gazes went from the floor to each other where both smirked and looked away just as quickly. Maura murmured a quiet goodbye to Callie and Arizona, squeezing Arizona's shoulder as she turned to follow Jane out the door.
The shrill ring of a doorbell sent the menagerie of rescue animals that resided in Vincent Korsak's home into immediate, and loud, turmoil. Ordering two dogs away from the door (with little affect), he peered through his peephole and was surprised to see Jane on the other side of his door.
Opening the door, Korsak asked, "Jane? What are doing here? Before 8 in the—Wally! Wally Green Monster, get back here now," Vince ordered.
"Ooohh, the full name," Jane drawled, glancing down at the small mutt nipping around her heels in frenzied circles. "Someone's in trouble."
"Are ya gonna stand there and look at him or are ya gonna grab him for me?" Vince huffed, trying to snag the dog while keeping another two dogs and one bored cat trapped behind his door.
"I'm going to stand here," Jane shrugged, laughing at Vince before finally taking pity on him and shooing the dog back into the apartment. "But for God's sake, come out here. I can't hear myself think in there."
"Fine," Vince relented, stepping into the hall and slamming the door behind him, the din of barks and yelps quieting mercifully. "Why are you here?"
"To bring you coffee," Jane smiled, sticking out her hand with a cup of black coffee from the stand on the corner.
"Uh huh. Why?"
"I need you with me today."
"Today?" Vince whined. "It's Sunday. The Pats play the Ravens today."
"Geez, what are you twelve? Stop whining."
"You have a partner, remember? You left me for him."
"Oh my God, you sound like my ex-wife." Instantly realizing her choice of words, Jane stuttered, "Because you sound like a woman. Not because, uh, I'd have a wife or—"
Oblivious, Korsak yawned. "Calling me a woman's not a good way to get a favor."
"Dead guy. That a good enough reason?"
"Shit," Vince scratched his jaw and rolled his eyes but Jane could already see his consent. "Where's Frost?"
"Buried in financials," Jane answered. "And he called this morning, said he saw something weird on the vic's comp. Some kind of tech-geek mumbo jumbo."
"Huh," Vince grunted.
"Anyway, he's booked. I need to question the ex-wife and I want you with me."
"You asking me 'cause I got ex-wives? What about the doc?"
"Maura's too close to this. She's…Look, I've got a suspect. The more I look, the better he looks. Maura doesn't want it to be him. So."
"So you're taking me with you to make sure you aren't just looking to look? Barking up a bullshit tree so you don't have to arrest the doc's friend?"
"Yeah," Jane admitted. "In a nutshell. If I promise to get you back before the game, will you help me?"
Vince sighed, defeated. "Fine. It'll be nice to talk to an ex-wife who's not after my money anyway." He turned and reached into the apartment for his badge and keys.
"Shit, Korsak, you got money? Wanna make me ex number four?"
Korsak rolled his eyes, zipping his black fleece jacket over his Wes Welker jersey, before wrangling the dogs back into the house and closing the door behind him. "You're too old for me anyhow."
Jane snorted, feigning indignation, "Ouch, Korsak. I'm so hurt."
The pair ambled into the cruiser, Korsak immediately fiddling with the crackling radio to find pre-game coverage for the game. He listened intently as Gil Santos explained the uncharacteristic offensive rut the Patriots were in this season. Korsak grumbled his agreement when Gino Cappeletti observed Brady seemed to be dancing and ducking only to get sacked anyway.
"Listen up," Jane said with a roll of her eyes and a flip of her turn signal. "This Carolyn Flynn is Whitestone's ex-wife. Last seen losing her mind on him at the reception. Maura explained it as," Jane paused, cleared her throat and adopted her best Maura impersonation, complete with perfect pronunciation as well as enunciation, "'one of the most uncouth displays' she's seen in a while. "
Korsak smirked. "You think she's our suspect, Doc?"
"Probably not. This dude's got a track record a mile long with pissing people off," Jane continued. "I think his ex is just another one on the list."
Understanding without affirming, Korsak watched Jane steer the car into Brighton Cliffs, one of the more prestigious areas in the Boston area. The planned community was meticulous: manicured lawns, perfect hedges, children playing wholesome games in the front yard. Seemed innocuous enough, but both officers knew how deceiving first impressions could be.
Pulling up in the governor's driveway at 103 Peachtree Street, Jane killed the engine. She and Korsak ambled to the front door, taking note of the way the neighbor next door gawked his head around his meticulous begonia bush, masking his rubber necking with botanical prowess.
"Remind me why we're at her house and not at the station?" Korsak groaned, studying the nosy neighbor's polo, white shorts, and Sperry's, all pristine, despite the alleged gardening he was doing. "At least downtown I could catch Sports Center over in Robbery."
"She said she and her lawyer would be here, nowhere else. And that this was her right as a citizen voluntarily offering assistance to the local police or some other high-falutin' bullshit."
"Shit. I hate when people know their rights."
Jane snorted her agreement as she banged on the heavy wooden door. Shaking her knuckles, Jane rolled her eyes. "Ever notice how rich people even have annoying doors?"
The door in question swung open just as Jane finished her comment. The man who stepped out was mid-fifties and impeccably dressed. Suit and tie before 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Show off, Jane thought.
"I assure you, Detective Rizzoli, the door didn't mean to offend."
Glancing at Korsak, Jane allowed her eyes to widen comically. "Let me guess. Butler?"
"Lawyer. Jake Pulaski."
"A lawyer who answers doors. You charge extra for that?"
Stepping back to let the officers enter the house, Jake let the comment pass. "My client is prepared to answer your questions, Detective. I assure you, she did not kill Mr. Whitestone."
"Of course not," Jane agreed, stepping into the room where Carolyn waited.
If Jane didn't want to vomit by the lavish exterior decorations, she did now. The expansive rooms, big enough to fit two of her apartment, housed so much crap. Romanesque busts, vases on pedestals resting on ornately carved mantel frames, a baby grand piano, and finally the sitting room complete with a large dead zebra, stuffed and lifelike in the corner.
"Why do I get the feeling this is gonna be a wild ride?" Korsak whispered as Jane resisted the urge to jab him in the ribs with her elbow.
Searching out Carolyn, Jane was surprised to find a pretty blonde, eyes rimmed red with obvious tears, drowning her sorrows in a morning Bloody Mary. If the pale color of the drink was any indication, this one was light on the Mary.
"Mrs. Whitestone—"
"Please. I didn't use that shit's name when I was married to the man. It's Miss. Flynn. But call my Carolyn."
"Ah. Ok. Carolyn. I'm Detective Rizzoli and this is my part—um, this Sergeant Korsak. I'd say I'm sorry for your loss but…"
Carolyn laughed. "But I just called him a shit so you think your apology would be wasted? Look, I wanted Jason dead but I didn't want him dead-dead, you know?"
"Um. No, I'm sorry, ma'am. Can you explain that?"
"I hated his guts. Wanted him to suffer. Hoped he'd die and rot in hell one day—"
"Carolyn," Jake interrupted, trying to stop his client's tirade.
"Oh, hush, Jake. You won't let me say anything I shouldn't but these two, they know about the scene I made at that wedding. I'm not telling them anything they don't know. Except this," she added, raising her glass towards Jake in a smug toast, "as long as Jay lives, I get ten grand a month in permanent alimony. Plus child support. He dies, I get nothing and my kids get trust funds. So I didn't want him dead. Yet."
"Money isn't the only reason people kill, ma'am," Korsak said.
"Only reason I would," Carolyn returned. She held up a hand when Jake started to interrupt again. "Isn't this the part where you ask me where I was when Jay was killed? You know, where you ask for my alibi?"
"Do you have one?" Jane asked.
"I do. Airtight. Sexy, too. When someone was sticking it to Jay, Matthew Nevins was sticking it to me."
Both Jake and Korsak were immediately overwhelmed by a coughing fit but Jane kept her expression carefully neutral. "Matthew Nevins is your alibi?" She asked, glancing at her notes though that was only for show. "That's too bad. I've got a witness who saw Mr. Nevins arguing with our victim at the wedding. My wit says he was pretty pissed with your ex."
It was Jane's turn to halt the lawyer's automatic rebuttal. "There's also this: my Medical Examiner is researching the possibility that there was more than one killer. Say…two, perhaps? Now, you want to rethink that airtight alibi?"
Carolyn Flynn's face stretched into a smile as she crossed her arms over her Armani tracksuit. "He and Jay fought? That would explain why Matty was so feisty."
"Carolyn," Jake warned again. "That's unnecessary infor—"
"Oh, quiet, Jake," Carolyn huffed. "Leave me be. There aren't too many things I can boast about these days." She looked thoughtful for a moment before she realized that the officers were all still standing. "Please, please. Sit down."
Jane took a seat, watching Jake pull Carolyn aside to talk quietly. Why this interview had to be done in a million dollar parlor was beyond both police officers, but at least they were getting somewhere with this case.
"As I was saying, Carolyn, your alibi needs to be checked out."
Looking uneasy but quietly amused as she sipped again from her morning cocktail, the woman set her glass down on the coffee table (coaster to support it, of course) and looked over at Jane. "There's…there's a third person you could q-question."
"Oh, and who is this?" Korsak persisted.
"Anthony Romanoff," Carolyn swallowed. "He was with us."
"With you? Ah, with you in what sense, ma'am?" Jane asked, nervously holding her pencil against the paper in anticipation.
"With us, um… helping," Carolyn muttered quietly in reply.
Korsak coughed again. "Well, that's…"
"Her business, Sergeant. How Ms. Flynn spends her time recreationally is not something for you to judge," Jake defended.
"Pipe down, please," Jane gruffed. "We're trying to get a statement, not preach about morality."
"At any rate, Detective. The three of us enjoyed our evening in the hotel's penthouse suite. There are records of check-in and check-outs, as well as the transaction on my credit card statement for the room," Carolyn leaned back and pressed the intercom mounted to the wall. "Luis, I need another bloody mary. Easy on the tomato juice."
Jane resisted the urge to chuck her notepad at the woman, but nodded instead. "We'll see if we can search through the security tapes. We'll let you know if we need to speak again."
"It will all check out. Like I said, Detective," Carolyn added. "I wanted my husband dead—but I didn't want him dead."
Jane slammed her cell phone down on the desk and dropped her head into her hands. Glancing over the top of his computer, Frost winced when he heard the detective start to curse. He was about to interrupt Jane's under-the-breath tirade when he saw Maura enter the office carrying two cups of coffee. Just what the doctor ordered, Frost thought with smirk and he turned his attention back to his computer screen.
"I heard you were back at the station, Jane," Maura began, approaching the desk quickly when she noticed Jane's level of distress. "I was wondering whether—"
"Whether I've found someone else to arrest so I don't have to throw your favorite army daddy in jail for murder?"
Instantly bristling, Maura affected her very best teacher-to-student voice and she responded, "The Colonel is a retired officer of the United States Marine Corps. He would certainly not appreciate being referred to as an 'army daddy.'"
Jane lifted her head from her hands, flicking her hair back with an annoyed push through tangled curls, and stared at Maura balefully. "Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously," Maura responded, her brow wrinkling in confusion. When Jane rolled her eyes and dropped her head back down, this time resting it flat on the scarred wooden surface, Maura softened and moved forward to place Jane's coffee, sweet and light like the detective preferred, next to her head. Trying to begin this conversation anew, Maura murmured, "I was wondering, Jane, whether you slept at all last night? I'm guessing from your cranky attitude this afternoon you require sleep more than the caffeine I brought."
"Cranky," Jane scoffed and they all ignored Frost's agreeable laugh from behind his computer screen. "I'm not cranky, Maura. I'm pissed the hell off."
"Yes. I see that. Why?"
"Why? Why? Because I've got about a hundred suspects and no suspect at all."
"That doesn't make sense Jane."
"Tell me about it," Jane agreed, finally leaning back to sit straight in her chair. "I've got people with motive all over the damn place but I can't place one of them at the scene when our guy was killed."
"Daniel Robbins was in Maryland," Maura reminded Jane helpfully. "You can't place him at the scene."
"He says he was in Maryland. I don't have anyone who can vouch for him, during the time our victim was killed, except his wife. Not exactly a perfect alibi."
"Arizona called a hotel in Annapolis, Jane. You checked that."
"Yeah, sure. All that tells me is that the Colonel was in Maryland at two in the morning. Our victim died at 6:20 p.m. That's almost eight hours. Do you know how often Logan sends flights to BWI? I'm trying, Maur, I'm really trying to find something that helps out your friends but I've got this feeling in my gut. I know this was about more than money. You don't…you don't kill a guy, stab him with a knife like that, over money. This feels personal. We've got Colonel Robbins, a long-time friend of the victim, walking into a bar and punching our guy, full fist. Damnit, Maura, the Colonel is personal. And you heard him, the way he agreed to come back to Boston right away? He didn't even sound surprised when Arizona told him his name had come up. There's something there."
Maura studied the slightly irregular lid to her plastic coffee cup, biting the inside of her cheek. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, Jane had a point. A good point. The Colonel might have personal motives but Maura quickly shook the thought from her head. Taking a tentative sip, the ME swallowed. "Perhaps his statement will shine some light onto this case."
"I need a whole freaking light house with a truck parked at the top flashing its high beams while waving a candelabra, really," Jane snapped.
Maura's brows furrowed, unable to picture such a description. "I don't see how that metap—"
"Whoa," Frost breathed as he scrolled through the list on his computer screen. "Dude has a ton of offshore accounts. Wow. Damn, they're all so erratic. I've got withdrawals leaking all over, funneling into another shit-ton of accounts. Except the deposits are all going to accounts linked to a Tim Robbins. Far as I can tell, this guy wanted his money hidden from someone. Probably lots of someones." Frost squinted, "Shit, that's a lot of money."
"Tim Robbins?" Maura asked with a deep furrow of her brow. "That's odd."
"Why?" Jane replied, leaning back in her chair as she rubbed her eyes. "It's just a pseudonym. Fake name, offshore accounts. Pretty basic white-collar crap. Don't tell me you think it's some kind of cryptic code message—"
"Well, yes, of course. I realize it's common for criminals to assume the identity of a deceased individual. But that's Arizona's late brother's name. Timothy Robbins."
Jane blinked, feeling that twist in her gut that usually accompanied a feeling of having to let Maura down. The ME noticed the grimace that flitted across Jane's face as she placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it through the fabric of her v-neck. "Maura, this could mean… The Colonel… again…"
"Jane, I don't think—"
"You don't want to think, Maur."
"Oh, something else," Frost announced, watching Maura and Jane continue their conversation in glances and gestures. "I have an infiltrating IP address. Search dates back, starts about a month before the murder. Last search, couple days before Jason gets killed. Apparently I'm not the only one trying to find out where Jason Whitestone hides his money. I'm tracking the address back to a Grace Jackson."
"Oh, great, add her to the list of suspects," Jane grimaced as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I have Colonel Robbins coming in in a half hour, but get her address so we can find her after. What a Sunday Funday."
"Yeah, added to the fact that Suggs just intercepted Brady for a touchdown," Korsak piped up over his screen.
"That would be because of their inferior offensive line versus Baltimore's superior ability to penetrate the pocket," Maura said coolly as she sipped from her drink.
"Really, Maura? Really?" Jane croaked. "Since when do you like football?"
"Understanding football is not the same thing as enjoying football. I've sat through enough Patriots games at your apartment to realize that the ability to protect the quarterback, particularly on his blind side, is a strong indicator of overall success. Besides," she grinned with a shrug, "the protective gear football players are required to wear over their gluteal muscles accentuates the beauty of the male form wonderfully."
Rubbing her temples at the vast turns her friends could take during a murder investigation, Jane moaned, "Maur, please, never say 'gluteal muscles' again. Just say you like the football players' asses in their pants." Lowering her voice to a furious whisper, one she knew Frost and Korsak were too distracted to overhear, Jane added, "Anyway, I thought you were all about the beauty of the female form."
Maura, unburdened by the detective's embarrassed modesty, glanced up and down Jane's crossed legs, hidden seductively behind basic black pants, and easily replied, "Oh. I am. I appreciate beauty in all its forms."
Jane snorted. "Right." Leaning back to throw her pen at Frost, she asked, "You find anything on Grace Jackson?"
"Address in South Boston," he responded. "Rough neighborhood but this girl's got some serious comp skills. I would never have traced the IP except she didn't block it the last time she ran his financials. Sloppy," he replied.
"You sound disappointed," Jane mused.
"Well, yeah. Stupid to get sloppy."
"Stupid is how we catch 'em, Frost."
"Yeah. Ok. Anyway, I've got her address. We can go see her after your meet with Colonel Robbins."
"Good. What about you," she asked, starting to throw another pen in Korsak's direction but Maura stopped her with an insistent grip wrapped around her wrist. Jane got caught in Maura's teasing smile and had to shake her head to clear the film that suddenly coated her brain. Pointing at Korsak instead, she asked, "You gonna do anymore cop work today or what?"
"Said I could watch the game," Korsak muttered but he fumbled through papers on his desk and pulled out a crumpled note. "Got in touch with Whitestone's secretary. She confirmed what the daughter told Frosty about the screaming match in Whitestone's office. Said the girl signed in as 'Jackie Graceson.' Secretary doesn't remember seeing her before that day. I'm running the name but so far, nada."
"Good, keep at it. And tell me if the boys score." Turning back to Maura Jane shrugged, "We're tracking them, Maura. Any leads that move away from Arizona's father. We're tracking them. But, I've got to track the Robbins lead too. If Whitestone was using the Colonel's dead son's name to—"
"I understand," Maura nodded and placed a comforting hand over Jane's on top the desk. "I'll leave you to work." Moving back to step out of the office, Maura paused. "It's odd, though, don't you think?"
"What's odd?"
"That there's a Grace Jackson searching our victim's financial records around the same time he is overheard fighting with a Jackie Graceson. Strange coincidence about the names, don't you think?"
In unison, all three police officers stood up from behind their desks. The grin they shared was identical; and predatory. Striding up to the doctor, Jane had to physically prevent her hands from wrapping around Maura's cheeks. "Maura Isles," she announced, "I could kiss you."
Uncertain why the officers were so excited, but enjoying the breath of enthusiasm she sensed in Jane, Maura murmured back, "Yes. You certainly could."
Maura stood next to Jane as the pair waited at the main doors for Colonel Robbins to arrive. Maura had her eyes closed and was evenly exhaling and inhaling as Jane chewed her thumbnail. The detective really wanted this to go over well. Jane Rizzoli was rarely wrong about her hunches, though. Maura didn't call her gumshoe for nothing.
What surprised both ME and detective alike was the presence of Callie and Arizona knocking on the main doors instead of the Colonel, jeans, t-shirts, and zip-ups adorning their frames; a change from their fancy attire from the night before.
Jane let them in, watching as an exhausted Arizona blew out a breath. "We wanted to be here when you question him. Just… I can't," she said, exasperation tainting her tone as she blinked rapidly.
"Arizona, it's okay," Callie soothed as she gently guided the blonde into her arms for a hug.
While Jane waited for the couple to gather their composure, she glanced over at Maura who was staring at her shoes, the implication of all they had learned this morning clearly weighing on the ME. It killed Jane to have to do this to her, again: to make her question herself, her friends. Her history.
"We're expecting your dad in a few minutes, Arizona. Do you guys want Maura to take you into the back and get you some coffee or tea or something?" Jane offered.
"No. He called, when he landed. I-I want to see him, if that's alright," Arizona asked, gently removing herself from Callie's embrace.
"That's perfectly alright," Maura answered, heading Jane off. "I'd like to see him myself. I wish it were under better circumstances, but—"
A gentle rap on the door cut Maura off. Arizona rushed to open it, pulling her father into a tight hug before Jane had a chance to introduce herself.
The Colonel dropped his briefcase onto the floor to properly hug his daughter as he whispered. "It'll be okay, Arizona, I promise."
As the blonde pulled away, the Colonel reached out his hand for Jane. "Detective Rizzoli, I presume. Colonel Robbins."
Jane shook Daniel's outstretched hand. "Pleasure, sir. Sorry to have to drag you away from your weekend, but this are important."
"I understand the legal proceedings, Detective. Thank you." Turning to Maura, he allowed himself his first smile since he had arrived. "Doctor Maura Isles. Look at you. I want to say you're all grown up, but then you always were."
"Colonel Robbins," Maura replied, her smile warm and sincere. She automatically stuck her palm out for a shake but she was secretly thrilled when Daniel used her outstretched hand to pull her into his embrace. She had forgotten that the stoic and strong Marine Colonel was a hugger. "I—It's so good to see you, sir," she mumbled against his neck, breathing in the familiar blend of Old Spice and Cuban cigars. "Even…well, even," she concluded, drawing back.
"Yes, even," Daniel agreed. "I've missed you, Doctor Isles. Barbara will want you to stop by for dinner, once we clear up this God-awful mess. Also, it was Colonel when you were five years old, Maura. Let's keep that way, despite the circumstances."
"Yes, sir," Maura nodded. "I, um, I'm so sorry about this, sir, but it's best if we move…move somewhere private."
"This way," Jane indicated but she paused when the Colonel held up a hand.
"One moment, Detective, please." Turning to Callie, Daniel pulled his daughter-in-law into his embrace. "Callie," he murmured, his voice breaking slightly over the name. Whispering in her ear he added, "She's going to need you, Callie. She'll need you to get through the rest of this."
Understanding, Callie nodded and squeezed the Colonel harder. "Yes, sir," she agreed simply.
Stepping back, Daniel nodded once before pulling his daughter close to Callie's side and frowning at them both. "Now. I spoke to that…that man who's babysitting my granddaughter."
"His name's Mark, Dad," Arizona sighed. "And he's her father. Not the babysitter."
"Whatever," the Colonel waved that off and Callie couldn't help but laugh. "Regardless, I spoke to him two days ago. It seems he managed to throw away her pink chupo." Arizona giggled at her father's use of Spanish, and his automatic assumption that it was Mark, and not Sofia, who had thrown the pacifier down the garbage chute. "As I recall, the pink chupo is something of a favorite of our girl's. So, I picked this up in Maryland." Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a bright pink pacifier, a perfect replica of the one Sofia had lost. Shoving the item unceremoniously into Callie's hands, and ignoring the way his daughter sighed at the gesture, the Colonel promptly about-faced and gestured to Jane. "Take me to your interrogation room, Detective, so I can tell you why I punched that son-of-a-bitch in his face."
All five adults settled around the interrogation table. The crowded room made Jane itchy but she decided it would be best to keep them together. There was a lot she could learn by reading their reactions to her questions and to the Colonel's answers. This way, they didn't have time to circle the wagons. Besides, it was what Maura wanted. Not that that mattered, of course.
After reading the Colonel the Miranda Warning, Jane asked, "Colonel Robbins, you are waiving your right to an attorney, is that correct?"
"It is."
Unable to stop herself, Jane asked, "Are you sure?"
The Colonel smiled, appreciating the detective's obvious attempts to offer protection. "I am. This is your show, Detective. Why don't you ask me what you want to know."
"Ok." Trying to lighten the mood a bit and relax her suspect, Jane began, "Colonel Robbins, do you own a cape?"
Daniel glanced at his daughter and daughter-in-law, perplexed when they both laughed. This certainly wasn't how he expected the detective to begin. "Ah, a cape?"
"Yes, sir. Black, satin edging?"
"Um. No. I don't."
"Interesting," Jane noted, smiling briefly at Maura. "Now, sir, for the record, what is your relationship with Jason Whitestone?"
"He was my financial advisor. In the past."
"Ok," Jane nodded. "If that's the route you want to take, let's talk finances first. My partner tells me that over the years you've invested more than $500,000 dollars in projects recommended by Mr. Whitestone. Half a million dollars is an awful lot of money for a military man."
The Colonel barked a laugh and Jane's eyes widened when Maura joined him. "Oh Jane," Maura laughed. "You said yourself this was personal. Colonel Robbins did not kill over money. You don't understand."
"Why don't you explain it, then," Jane demanded.
"Colonel Robbins and his wife are friends of my parents," Maura began, as though that should explain things. When Jane continued to frown at her Maura continued, "He is military, yes, but he's also a member of one of Boston's oldest families. The Robbins can trace their roots back to the Mayflower."
"Back to General Washington's Army, too," the Colonel boasted, his eyes almost winking at Jane. "We may be military, ma'am, but I come from a long line of generals, admirals and officers. Several of whom left the services to serve in the halls of Congress. I can assure you, I did not give Whitestone more than I could afford."
"Still," Jane insisted, "you're talking about old money. It takes new money to make old money last and the market—"
"You still don't understand, Detective." This time it was Callie who interrupted Jane.
"Look, I get it. You're both surgeons. You've got money. That doesn't mean you have enough to bail out daddy when he makes a bad investment."
"Maybe not," Callie agreed. "But my father is Carlos Torres."
"So?"
"Carlos Torres," Callie repeated, "CEO and majority owner of Torres Holdings and Affiliates. He—"
"Wait," Jane held up a hand. "Are you telling me that your father is the guy who owns the Miami Dolphins? The one who stands on the sidelines and sneaks cigars?"
Callie colored slightly but she nodded. "Yes."
"Oh my God," Jane muttered, impressed despite herself. "You own the freaking Dolphins."
"Actually, my father owns—"
"Yeah, yeah," Jane shook that off, trying to overcome her desperate desire to ask what Callie thought about Miami's recent trade for Reggie Bush. "Fine. You didn't kill him for money," she shrugged at Daniel. "But I'm going to ask you again, what is your relationship with Jason Whitestone? And we both know it's more than financial advisor."
"I have no current relationship with that as—that man," the Colonel corrected himself, wincing guiltily in Maura's direction. "But," he added looking Jane in the eye, "I did have a relationship with him at one time. He and my son were school friends," Daniel began. "We are a military family, Detective, and the Corps makes it difficult for children to maintain long-term friendships. When we left Boston, again, for a tour in Germany, Jason made an effort to keep up his friendship with Tim. Wrote letters. Honest to God, on paper letters. I respected his effort there. It made me…like him, I guess, even though my wife and my daughter were unimpressed."
"When my son was…killed," both the Colonel and Arizona shuddered slightly over the word, "Jason called me up. He was…devastated. Devastated," the Colonel repeated before his face hardened. "Or, at least, that's what he said. He…He invited me for drinks and we talked about Tim. Then one night led to two and three and so on. He wanted to know everything. It was like he wanted to learn every missing detail of his dead friend's life and, God help me, our talks kept my son alive."
"Dad," Arizona interrupted softly. "You never said anything. Mom and I, we would have talked…we would have—"
"You were grieving, too, Zona and you needed to live your life. To move on. And your mother, she was inconsolable. My boy was proud to be a Marine but—but he got that from me. I…I didn't want Barbara to blame me, so I couldn't talk to her."
"Dad," Arizona moaned again. How had they—all of them—handled things so poorly?
But the Colonel held up a hand to silence her before she could say anything more. "Regardless," he said to Jane, "Jason Whitestone kept my boy alive for me. I showed him military records, told him stories, jokes. Gave him money to invest when the market was hurting his portfolio. Until I found out why he wanted to know so much."
Keeping one eye trained on Daniel, and another on Arizona, Jane nodded slowly. "He needed information because he intended to assume your son's identity and use it to funnel illegal funds into accounts that bankruptcy and the SEC couldn't touch."
As Jane's words settled over the small group, only Arizona's gasp was audible. The blonde crumbled into her wife's arms, quietly mumbling 'That bastard," before her words disappeared into Callie's neck.
With only a quick glance at his daughter, Daniel returned to Jane's unflinching gaze. "You don't pull punches, Detective. I appreciate that. And let me do the same. When I found out Jason was using my son's name to steal from others, to steal from the very government my son died defending, I wanted to kill him."
"Oh, God," Arizona moaned. "Dad, stop. You can't—don't say anything more."
Callie placed a careful hand against the Colonel's. "Daniel," Callie whispered, using his name for the first time. "Let me call the attorney. Let me—"
"No, Callie, that's not necessary. I wanted to kill him," Daniel repeated, "but he wasn't worth the trouble. So I decked him instead. Then I called up an old friend, Agent Simmons with the FBI and I found a way to hurt Jason where I knew he'd feel it. You and I, Detective, we're trained to look for a person's weakness. Money was Jason's. Agent Simmons made a few well-placed phone calls and the investigations started pouring in. The feds froze all accounts using Tim's name or his social security number. Whitestone would never touch that money again."
Jane jotted these notes down quickly, nodding as the tightness in her gut from earlier was beginning to dissipate. "If I call Agent Simmons, he'll confirm this?"
"Of course," Daniel nodded.
"Good. Can you think of anyone else specifically who would want him dead? He was stabbed over twenty times. There could have been more than—"
Arizona piped up, her voice small but not defeated. "Maura mentioned something about that when she called. Said with so many wounds, there might be two killers. Maybe more. So it couldn't be my dad…"
"I simply noted that the amount of wounds was suspect. As though more than one killer had taken turns stabbing him. Obviously, that's merely a guess and not—"
"Took turns?" Daniel asked. "You mean like the book, ah, Murder on the Orient Express."
"Yes, perhaps," Maura agreed, smiling at the Colonel's association. "But as I was saying, there's no way to tell. Certainly one killer, especially one overwhelmed by emotion or-or determination, would be able to inflict those wounds. I simply…Arizona was upset when we spoke," she finished lamely, well-aware Jane was staring at her.
Jane, dumbfounded at Maura's newfound guesswork, blinked towards the ME and then back to her notes, squaring her jaw. "I uh, well, this isn't a storybook, as much as I'd like it to be, 'cause then I could solve it."
"Of course. To answer you Detective, I don't know who would have done it. But I'll tell you this," Daniel said sternly as he leaned forward. "At the risk of sounding callous, you'll be hard pressed to find someone not personally invested in Jason Whitestone's death."
Maura said the last of her goodbyes to the Colonel, promising him that she would stop by for a visit with his wife someday soon. Jane sat at her desk, listening to Maura's hearty laugh before she heard the familiar clip of heels against the marble floors echoing closer.
"All done talkin' cop theories with your ex-girlfriend?" Jane asked without looking up from her desk.
Maura's pace slowed until she stopped short of Jane's desk. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You play cops and killers with all your friends, Maura? Or just the ones you've slept with?" Jane continued, loudly flipping the page in her notes.
"She had a right to know all of the possible theories of this case. She was upset; the implications of her father being a murderer and all," the ME countered, crossing her arms.
"I've jumped through hoops to make sure that your friend and her father are treated well. Hell, if Korsak wasn't so damn invested in the Patriots game he would have reamed me for letting them all be in the interrogation room like that. The least you could do is leave the speculation and investigation to me, and keep her out of it. Since when do you speculate anyway? There are rules, Maura. Lots of them!"
"What does it matter, Jane? It's not like it harmed anything! You were about to tell them all the exact same thing! I beat you to it. I'm sorry. I was only trying to keep her calm. She was upset."
"She's got a wife for that," Jane snapped, breaking the tip of her pencil against the paper and tossing it into her trashcan.
"Is this about the case anymore, Jane?" Maura asked, throwing up her hands. "Or is it about what almost happened in my office and your general discomfort with my ex-girlfriend?"
Pushing out from her desk, Jane strode over to Maura, facing her. "I'm not jealous of your ex-girlfriend, but I am a cop and I can have you taken off of this case if it's too personal for you."
Maura recoiled like she'd been slapped in the face and began taking a few steps backward. It was clear to her now that Jane was going to push any feelings she had into the deep recesses of her brain, boxing them up to keep for later. "You do what you think is best, Detective Rizzoli."
Jane's eyes widened at the words and she watched the ME turn on her heels and walk in the opposite direction. "Stop, Maura! Wait."
Eyes brimming with tears, Maura kept her poise, refusing to turn around as she retreated from Jane's office with her head held high. She probably would have made it, too, if Jane's hand around her wrist didn't halt her stride
Jane whipped Maura around to face her again, watching the tears streak down her face. She felt like a monster for causing those tears and adding to Maura's burdens. With a shaking hand, she reached to wipe the tears away. Maura flinched and knocked Jane's hand away. Undeterred, Jane pulled her by the lapels of her jacket, trying to get Maura to look at her. When the ME refused, Jane tipped her chin up and took a forceful step forward until she felt the other woman's back hit Robbery's door. With the doctor's sharp gasp echoing down the precinct's deserted hallway, Jane Rizzoli leaned forward, without thinking, without considering, and kissed Maura Isles.