Ladies and gentlemen come to supper-

Hot boiled beans and very good butter.

The stairs were narrow and dark, and Angela was feeling nervous.

When she was nervous, she counted stairs.

"One, two, three, four, five,

Once I caught a fish alive.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,

But I let it go again.

Why did you let it go?

Because it bit my finger so.

Which finger did it bite?

The little one upon the right." She whispered to herself.

"Must have been a pike." Hodgins replied.

"What?"

"A Pike. The fish. Most fish don't have teeth. Except Piranha. Pike. A few others. Fish small enough to catch, and have bit your finger, and not take it clean off that is."

She grimaced. "Thanks for the info."

Hodgins stopped on the bottom step and switched on the light, a single bulb. "Whoa."

"It's like Frankenstein's lair!" Angela hissed.

"This guy was no Simple Simon!" Hodgins enthused. "This is state of the art pickling equipment!"

"Yay?" Angela smiled doubtfully.

"Yep." Hodgins crossed the floor to the pickling setup. "This is where our Peter Piper pickled his last pepper!"

"And himself."

"No. He didn't pickle himself." Hodgins frowned. "Highly unlikely he was able to seal himself in."

"Of course." She blinked at him. These scientists just didn't get it!

"This is great." Hodgins pulled out a pair of gloves and began moving things, looking for evidence.

"Hodgins?" Booth yelled down the stairs.

"Yeah!" He called back, his gun safely hidden again.

"We're coming down!"

"We found the crime scene." Angela smiled. "We're super sleuths!"

"We found things too." Brennan announced. "A lock of curly hair and a picture, and three blind mice, and.."

Angela shrieked. "Where?"

"Oh, under the bed."

Angela ran over to the nearest chair and leapt up on it.

"They're stuffed Ang." Booth grinned. "But I imagine that's what the farmer's wife's reaction was too."

Brennan stared at her. "Are you afraid of mice Ange?" She smirked.

Angela glared at her, then pointed behind her. "SNAKE!"

Brennan screamed and shot across the room, knocking Angela off the chair and taking her place. "Where? Where?"

Booth cracked up. "Stop it you two, this is serious, we're investigating a death here!"

"Peter Piper was definitely pickled with this set-up." Hodgins announced from the corner, where he had been ignoring them all. "You said you found a picture of Curly-locks?" He held up a single curled hair from the work table.

"Curly-locks?" Booth asked.

"Curly-locks, Curly-locks, wilt thou be mine?

Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine;

But sit on a cushion, and sew a fine seam,

And feed upon strawberries, sugar, and cream." Hodgins recited in a bored tone.

"How Neanderthal." Brennan replied. "Who wants to sit and sew seams all day?"

Angela shrugged from the floor. "Strawberries and cream though, sounds yummy."

Booth opened his mouth and then shut it again, choosing silence as the best answer.

"I thought he was dating Mary Contrary?" Brennan asked.

"I guess there's nothing for it." Booth sighed. "We'll have to go ask the old woman."

"Which one?" Angela smiled. "The one in the shoe?"

"Or the one in the basket?" Hodgins added.

Brennan frowned. "Whatever is she doing in a basket?"

"Sweeping the cobwebs from the sky." Hodgins smirked.

Brennan looked offended. "That's ridiculous, there are no cobwebs in the sky."

"Yes." Booth nodded. "But if you meet her, don't tell her. It's not nice to disabuse the elderly of their notions."

"Is that why you let that old lady down the hall from you call you Sonny and pinch your cheek?" Brennan quizzed.

"Yes, Bones. That and she makes her pastry from scratch, and invites me over for leftover pie after her son goes back to Indiana. He visits once a month, for work, she likes to make him pie." He said defensively.

"Really?" Angela sighed. "Pastry from scratch? Could you invite me next time?" She rubbed her stomach hungrily.

"Which old Lady do we need to talk to?" Brennan returned to Booth's earlier statement. "Will she have something for us to eat? It IS dinner time."

Booth shook his head. "You can't just invite yourself to someones supper Bones, and besides, this one lives on victuals and drink, I doubt she'll have much."

"Oh." Hodgins nodded wisely. "THAT old lady. Good choice Booth!"

"Why is that a good choice?" Brennan asked.

"Because she never shuts up!" Angela nodded. "She's bound to have something interesting to say."

"I'll stay here and gather particulates and other evidence." Hodgins declared, pulling a plastic bag from his other pocket and putting the curl in it. "I've got my gear in the car."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I practically had to sit on it."

"And, THAT, is why I drive an SUV." Booth smiled.

Angela sighed. "I'm going to go find something to eat, anything but hot boiled beans."

Brennan got down from the chair. "Excellent idea Ange. I'll go with you, I think I saw a corner store on a cross street." She glanced at Booth and Hodgins. "We'll bring you back something. We'll meet back here in three quarters of an hour."

Booth watched the women escape up the stairs. "I guess that just leaves me to visit the old lady then."

Hodgins smirked. "Drunk ladies love you Booth, you shouldn't have too much of a problem getting her to talk."

"I'm more worried about how I'll get her to be quiet." Booth muttered. "Have fun with the particulates Jack."

"Hey!" Hodgins shouted, as Booth went up the stairs. "Don't knock the science man, these little babies are going to tell us exactly what happened!"

"We know what happened, Hodgins, Peter Piper got pickled. We just need to know How, and Why." Booth called back down the stairs.

Hodgins shook his head and got to work.

"Some people just don't know what they're missing."

There was an old woman tossed in a basket,

Seventeen times as high as the moon;

But where she was going no mortal could tell,

For under her arm she carried a broom.

"Old woman, old woman, old woman," said I,

"Whither, oh whither, oh whither so high?"

"To sweep the cobwebs from the sky; And I'll be with you by-and-by."

~MG~