Pins

See a pin and pick it up,

All the day you'll have good luck.

See a pin and let it lay,

Bad luck you'll have all the day.

Brennan climbed the stairs slowly, taking in the pictures that hung all the way up. "These are all pictures of Peter Piper and his Peppers."

"Prize winners." Booth mumbled, his eyes focused much lower. "According to his social networking site, he won the prize for pickled produce every year at the county fair."

Brennan looked impressed. "I would like to try some."

"Pickled Peppers?"

"Yes." She paused, thinking. "Only without pickled Peter in them. I wonder if we can find a jar somewhere."

Booth chuckled. "Pickles without Peter in them would definitely be better." He shook his head. "So far it looks like this guy led a more uneventful life than Solomon Grundy."

"Oh, what's he do?"

Booth checked his watch. "Well, it's Thursday, so.. He could be taking ill. But they never put any dates on, so that might not be this Thursday, it might be next, or next year, or in ten years.." He mused.

Brennan looked back at him and frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Solomon Grundy. You've never heard of Solomon Grundy?"

"Is he in that song?"

"What song?"

"The depressing one."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Oh!" Booth stopped suddenly, picking up a pin off the top stair. "See a pin and pick it up, and all day long you'll have good luck!"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Luck has nothing to do with pins Booth, and there is no such thing as luck anyways, it falls into the realm of fate, which seems ..."

"Yeah Bones. I know." Booth stood up. "But it might be a clue."

Brennan's face lit up. "Evidence!"

"Yes Bones. Evidence." Booth looked around. "Four doors. Which should we try first?"

"We could split up!"

"Fine. I'll take the rooms on the left, you take the rooms on the right."

Solomon Grundy

Solomon Grundy,

Born on a Monday,

Christened on Tuesday,

Married on Wednesday,

Took ill on Thursday,

Worse on Friday,

Died on Saturday,

Buried on Sunday.

This is the end

Of Solomon Grundy.

~B~

"Bones, what are you doing?" Booth stared through the door at her.

She looked up at him blankly. "Testing the bed."

"Ok, Goldilocks, and why are you doing that?"

"Angela said to… Oh. She didn't mean literally?"

"I'm pretty sure she did, but I think she meant, you and I, the horizontal mambo, not you trying to take a nap."

Brennan narrowed her eyes. "The horizontal mambo? And I'm not napping. I'm mearly testing the firmness and quality of the mattress, as well as making sure there is nothing under the covers or pillows."

"Like what?"

"Well." Brennan puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. "You, for instance, keep Hustler and Playboy in your shoes, The anthropological journal issue of our Mummy discovery in the bathroom, and Sports illustrated swimsuit edition under your pillow."

"I only did that once, to hide it from Parker!" Booth yelped. "How did you know?"

"Who do you think changed your sheets before you came home from the hospital Booth, the tooth fairy?"

"The cleaning fairy, Bones, the tooth fairy only does teeth, and no, but.. I.. You snooped!"

"Yes. You said it was for me to find out, so naturally.. And the anthropological journal you keep right out in the open, that's hardly snooping."

"Do you know why, I keep that journal?" Booth quizzed.

"It's excellent reading material. Pride in the case. And of course, you can never expose Parker to too much science." She replied matter of factly, sure of herself.

Booth rolled his eyes. "Right." It had nothing to do with the full page pictures of Bones with a ginormous smile on her face, and the one of them together, looking more couple-like than any non-couple had the right to be. "Quit testing the mattress and start searching the drawers, Bones." He smiled at her.

He turned back to the room he was searching, obviously Piper's own bedroom.

He looked over the dresser, and saw a lock of curly hair in a picture frame, next to a smiling face. "Hmm. That's not Mary Contrary." He mused, "I wonder who it is…"

He searched through drawers methodically, removing anything of interest and placing it on the bed.

Brennan finished quickly. "The room must be a spare, and the bathroom is bare."

"Good for you Bones, you're getting into the rhyming spirit." He muttered, half under the bed.

She stared at his lower body in silence, taking the moment to admire the strength of his legs, and the black and white socks peeping from under his trousers.

"Bones?"

"Yes?" She blinked back to reality. "Did you find anything in here?"

"Three blind mice in a box under the bed. I think they're stuffed. They don't smell in any case. A diary, a day planner, six blue ribbons, and a picture of a girl with curly hair, and a lock of the same curly hair."

Brennan walked over and lifted up the pillows. "And a Produce growers weekly, and a Harvest girls calendar, and a Playboy… October issue."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Booth slid out from under the bed with the box of stuffed mice. "That's the issue with all the pictures being taken at the pumpkin farm."

"I thought he liked Peppers."

Booth shrugged with a boyish smile. "Produce is produce Bones. And just because a guy likes Blondes, doesn't mean he can't be head over heels in love with a brunette."

Brennan froze. She was a brunette.

She smiled, a sense of hope lifting her spirits. "True."

"Let's get these things downstairs."