So, no Brennan and Booth interaction here, but hey, lots on the case. Hopefully next chapter will be a bit more Brennan & Booth friendly :)
Chapter Sixteen: The Flaw in the Motives
A middle-aged man came up to the door, followed by a happy looking golden retriever, who yapped at the two men from behind the door. The man opened it, looking curiously at Booth and Martin.
'Hello?' He asked, looking at them as though he was trying to work out who they were. 'Can I help you?'
Martin pulled out his identification, showing it to the man, who immediately looked concerned.
'Sorry to bother you, Mr Wentworth. I'm Detective Inspector Martin, and this is Special Agent Seeley Booth. We were wondering if we could have a word with your son?' Martin asked, hands on hips, similar to Booth's pose. The dog immediately ran outside, jumping up and around Booth, looking for some attention. Booth patted the dog before turning his attention back to Mr Wentworth, who reached out to grab the dog and was holding him still against his leg.
'Why did you want to see my son?' He asked, heading back towards them and then along the small hallway. 'He's just on the back veranda, reading. Never has his head out of a book. He's not in trouble, is he?'
Booth wanted to say yes, but decided against it as Martin filled the man in on the information. Mr Wentworth nodded sombrely, putting his hands in his pockets.
'I remember hearing about the poor girl awhile back. Paul was distraught when he heard it on the news, she was top of the class – you know the type. You're saying she was killed in my Paul's room?' He asked, sounding somewhat shocked at the thought. 'That's terrible.'
Martin nodded, following the man out the door to see a rather skinny teen sitting on a wicker chair, thumbing through a text book and looking like he was a little confused by it. Booth wasn't surprised; the book probably weighed half of what the kid did, and from his experience, those sorts of books were damn near impossible to understand.
'Hey, Paul,' Mr Wentworth said, and Paul looked up, noticing the two men with his father. 'What's going on?' Paul asked, noting the serious air of the two strangers.
Booth peered at the boy carefully, trying to see if there were any obvious scars on him. There was none visible to him, but the evidence against this boy was still pretty damning.
'These men are just here to talk to you about the murder of those two students a couple of months ago?' Mr Wentworth said, looking at his son.
'We'd like to ask you a few questions about the murder of Justine Cooper and Brad Turner, Paul. We have reason to believe that they were murdered in your room, and we were just wondering if you knew anything about the murder.' Booth added, making it clear that this wasn't exactly a friendly visit.
'You think I did it?' Paul asked, standing up and looking disconcerted.
Booth nodded. 'We think that we've got a good case against you, kid, and that if you've done something then confessing now would be your wisest move,'
The boy looked shocked at the accusation, and stared at the two men. Booth considered the boy again, looking over every inch of his skin – not a scar. The kid was lily white and looked almost undernourished. While he was tall – probably about as tall as Al, he certainly wouldn't have had the same strength as him; and apparently, that was the size and weight of the murderer...
Booth hadn't noticed the thunderous look on Mr Wentworth's face, but Martin certainly had. It had never really been his technique to go at people in the same bull-at-a-gate manner as Booth, and now they were on the defensive, and probably about to get thrown out.
As if on cue, Mr Wentworth seemed to regain his ability to speak and spluttered out a few curse words under his breath. Booth finally looked up at him, to see two very angry eyes staring back at him.
'You dare come into my home and accuse my son of murder? Look at the kid! He can barely hold onto that book, let alone kill someone!' He thundered, glowering at the men.
'We're sorry sir, but we're just going where the evidence leads us,' Martin said, trying to appease the man so they could further question the boy before his father started calling for a lawyer. He shot Booth a slightly grudging look, but it went unnoticed. Booth was busy staring intently at the boy, who had started fiddling with his book on the coffee table, refusing to look at anyone.
'Well, your evidence is clearly wrong! Get the hell out of my house!'
Booth finally tore his eyes away from the boy, looking at the father. 'Mr Wentworth, it would be far better for your son if you let us talk to him now, before we get a warrant and have to arrest him officially. If he's innocent, as you say, then it would be the wisest course of action for him.'
What Booth had said had done little to appease the man.
'I know what is best for my son, you damn Yank. What on earth would you know about it?'
A great deal more about the legal system than you, mate.
'I'm just trying to do the best for your family, Mr Wentworth.' Booth said evenly, looking over at Martin.
There was a quiet sound of Paul clearing his throat, and everyone's gaze turned towards him.
'Uhm, Dad? I think I'll talk to them now. I don't want to be arrested, that goes on your permanent record or something, doesn't it? I don't really want to have 'arrested for murder' next to my name. I didn't do it, so, like they said, nothing to fear, right?'
His father's colour returned to a slightly more healthy looking shade of red, but only slightly.
'Son, they're just trying to scare you. You don't have to talk to them,' he said quietly, as though he didn't want the two men hear.
'Well, it worked. I'm pretty scared. But I'll answer their questions, I'm sure they'll see eventually that it wasn't me,'
Mr Wentworth grunted, before storming down the stairs and disappearing into a shed across the patch of grass.
Paul looked at Booth and Martin apologetically, gesturing for them to enter the house.
'Sorry about him,' he said, leading them into a small sitting room. 'He's just over-protective. Wants the best for me, you know.'
Booth nodded. He supposed that if someone came and accused his son of murder, he would have most likely reacted even more violently than Mr Wentworth had.
The men all sat down, Booth and Martin on one couch, Paul looking nervously over at them both from another.
'So, you think I killed Justine and her boyfriend?' Paul asked quietly, wringing his hands. 'Why?'
'She was murdered in your dorm room, Paul, by someone with an astute knowledge of the human anatomy, who's about the same size as you,' Martin said, looking over the boy again and wondering if that last statement was actually true. The kid was as thin as a rake.
Paul nodded, looking worried. 'Well, that doesn't sound too good for me, I guess,' he said unsurely. 'I didn't do it, though. I didn't know Justine all that well – she was in one of my tutes, but I'm kind of shy I guess, I didn't make many friends. She seemed nice enough, really smart and all... why do you think I killed her? And her boyfriend? I don't even know his name...'
Booth looked at the boy, considered his body language, what he was saying. He sounded believable – and the kid just didn't strike him as a murderer. As his father had said, he could barely hold onto that huge textbook. He knew size wasn't always a factor when it came to murderers, but this kid had a certain delicateness about him that didn't really make you think 'murderer.'
God, this is frustrating.
'We've got a few theories. Maybe you were jealous of her talents, her skills? Maybe you asked her out and she laughed at you, rejected you? Maybe it just pissed you off that she was sleeping with her boyfriend on your bed?' Booth posited, looking at the boy for reactions to his theories. He was somewhat surprised when the kid laughed.
Paul shook his head, looking at both the men in turn. 'That sounds like something from a TV show. People don't get murdered for those sorts of reasons in real life, do they?' He asked, looking incredulously at Booth.
Booth shrugged. Seemed like they did to him.
'I've seen people kill for less, Paul. It's not a laughing matter,' Martin said quietly, also looking somewhat surprised by the boy's reaction.
Paul immediately looked more serious, a little apologetic. 'Yeah, sorry, guess it's not. I just... this is a little surreal, you know?'
Booth nodded, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. Martin continued to talk to the boy, ask some routine questions while Booth checked his phone. It was a message from Brennan.
No other evidence found in room 2C, samples are currently being analysed. After considering the remains again I have deduced that the murderer was left handed. Wish that Hodgins or one of the interns were here so they could devise an experiment to verify my conclusions, but I feel as though they are sound enough without further corroboration. Hope your interrogation is going well. Brennan.
Booth smiled at the message. She'd always been rather clinical with her texting.
'Hey, Paul, what hand do you write with?' Booth asked, interrupting Martin's question. Martin looked at Booth half annoyed, half curious, before looking at Paul again.
'I'm right handed,' Paul said, raising up his right hand. Booth nodded, checking the underside of it in case there was a bite mark.
There wasn't.
Booth turned to Martin, trying to give him a look conveying his opinion that he didn't think the kid had done it. Martin nodded, seeming to understand.
Sighing, Martin stood up, and Paul quickly stood up too.
'Is that bad? Are you going to arrest me now? Was the murderer right handed or something? I've gotta protest that, guys, I mean, a lot of people in the world-'
Booth shook his head, smiling at the kid. 'Relax. We're not going to arrest you. We're going to come back with a warrant for a DNA sample, but for now we can't do anything else.'
Paul nodded, looking immensely relieved.
'K,' he said, crossing his arms. The two men turned to leave, apologising for interrupting before heading towards the door. Paul looked out at them as they started to make their way down the pavement to Martin's car, before he called out to them.
'Hey, wait a sec,' he said, jogging out towards them. 'If I give you some DNA now, will that help you guys out?' He asked nervously, fidgeting with his fingers again.
Booth was surprised. 'Um, yeah, it would.' He said, stopping to look at the boy.
The boy nodded, smiling grimly. 'Well, okay, take some hair then,' he said, pulling out a couple of strands.
Martin pulled a small evidence bag from his pocket, holding it out to the boy who then put the strands into it, smiling nervously as he handed it back to Martin.
'I just don't want any marks against my name,' he said quietly, and Booth nodded.
Either this kid was innocent, or he was foolish.
Booth and Martin got in the car, sharing a look momentarily.
Neither thought the kid was foolish.
See, I told you that I'd use the left handed thing. Don't hate me :P