So, I forgot to add in the last chapter that Del Amitri, the escaped convict of today's story is actually one of my favorite musicians. I also doubt that he is an actual convict. Just to clear the air :-) Here's the party!

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For the next hour and a half, Booth and Bones wandered around the great hall, greeting fellow guests and doling out compliments. Brennan chatted amicably with everyone, discussing her books and only tripping over social niceties once or twice. Booth for his part was quite impressed that his partner seemed to be having such a good time while he preferred to stay in the periphery of the conversations until Bones introduced him. There were only so many times he could hear about someone's new yacht, the price of their jet's refurbishment or the house they had in the South Seas that was "just divine". He shifted uncomfortably by Bones' elbow as she talked to other potential donors about the Jeffersonian and her travels around the world. After the conversation ended and the other couple walked away, Bones turned to him with an annoyed smile as she said, "I really hate these kinds of things."

Booth, who was about to make a comment about her ease with everyone, was stopped as he spotted Marilynn Johnson making her way towards them in a scandalously low red gown. The ornate mask covering much of her face did not stop him from recognizing the predatory, hawk-like gait the publisher possessed. Booth turned to his partner, simply saying, "Dance with me," before spinning her onto the dance floor. Her momentary shock gave way to a smile and easy conversation as Booth guided her through the easy waltz being played by the string quartet in the corner. The pair laughed and danced effortlessly until a tap on Brennan's shoulder brought her face to face with David Ashby.

"May I cut in with the beautiful lady," he asked, watching Booth with a calculated gaze. Booth looked at his partner and when she gave him a simple shrug, consented, stepping a few feet away to watch her auburn curls sway in time.

As the host led her in the more complicated dance, she observed the simple green and black mask that hid his classic good looks. She had met Ashby on many other occasions and was always impressed with his variety of knowledge. They conversed easily, commenting about old Gregory Sanders who was asleep in the corner. David stopped dancing as he noticed one of his black suited security guards approaching. Some whispered words turned the host pale with shock. He gulped audibly, almost falling if Brennan and the guard had not caught his shoulders. Bones motioned to her partner who followed the three people out of the room.

The guard led them down a hall and up a back staircase before stopping before the room. At Ashby's nod, the guard opened the door. Ashby's strangled cry of grief mixed with Booth and Brennan's own shocked utterances as they saw the beautiful woman lying prone in a pool of blood. The silent guard restrained Ashby, turning him to a chair across the room. Once he had calmed himself enough, Booth quietly questioned him as Brennan observed the body.

"Her, her name is Marguerite De Lacue. She and I, well, we, we were together. I was going to propose tonight," Ashby finally revealed, before breaking down again.

"Can you think of anyone who would have wanted her dead," Booth asked with as much sympathy as he could convey.

"Nnnno," Ashby stuttered, promptly turning white again and throwing up in the trashcan besides the study's desk. Booth stood up from his position by Ashby and made his way over to the victim. Her deep emerald ball gown floated around her, creating a sickening color as red mixed with green.

"See right here." Bones pointed out a bruise on the back of the neck to Booth, "Her neck was snapped, but not enough to kill. She was still alive after this injury, most likely paralyzed." They heard Ashby retching in the corner again, but Booth turned back to his partner.

"So what did kill her," he questioned, not sure he wanted to know how the young blonde on the floor was taken. Bones looked at him once before kneeling down and turning the body over. Stab wounds covered the woman's torso, making Booth grimace at the brutality of the act. Bones looked up at him from her squatted position by the body.

"Marguerite De Lacue was stabbed multiple times, resulting in exsanguination," she said in her most detached voice.

Booth looked back up at the victim's face, partially hidden by the silver mask covering her left side. Her blue eyes looked out emptily upon the small group in the room, still frozen in shock. Bones took the victim's right hand in her own, noting the lack of defensive wounds. Booth watched her at work, studying, looking for answers.

"So, wait, she was alive when she was stabbed like that," he asked, the pure atrocity of the act washing over him.

"My count at the moment is fourteen times, and yes she was. She was most likely attack from behind, paralyzed, and then stabbed," Bones replied, her own sapphire eyes looking at him with scientific detachment. Booth saw traces of worry flicker through her eyes, but didn't mention it. He looked by her feet and an ominous chill ran up his spine.

"Bones, your dress," he said, watching the blood, the death, that was slowly leaching into her hem. She looked down and then stepped back, away from the pool of blood.

"We have to get her back to the lab for a full analysis," she said, lips in a grim line as she walked over to him, "The murderer may still be here. We need keep everyone detained."

Suddenly a shrill scream came from the direction of the ballroom, followed by dozens of other shouts of shock. Bones' head whipped from the sound and back to her partner before they both took off down the corridor to the party, followed closely by the Ashby's security guard.

They reached room in record time to see the crowd backing away from the form of Gregory Sanders, sitting in that same chair by the window. Booth moved to check his pulse when Bones' hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. It was then he noticed the thin ribbon of blood around Sanders' collar that appeared to be spreading.

"Decapitated," Bones said solemnly, swallowing her own shock at the sight.

Before he could question her about it, the room was plunged into darkness and Booth felt the grip around his wrist tighten in fear.