In honesty, I'm not sure where to place this one; we haven't seen too many miscues from her this season… Earlier than later, I guess--or whenever you like. And yes, there is a great deal of me in Odilia, but she's not me.


It was an ordinary day the FBI came by the shop to tell me that my landlord was dead. I was sorry--he was pretty nice as landlords go, and I certainly knew him, but not so well that I would be drowned in grief.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, and my partner, Dr Temperance Brennan." I sighed--he was an extremely good-looking man, and I would have enjoyed trying to sell him something. But the FBI doesn't come around announcing themselves like that to stores like this one just to shop. I've watched enough TV to know that. Well, all right, maybe the corrupt ones do.

"Odilia Churchill. What can I do for you, Agent Booth?"

"Do you know a Patrick Byrd?"

"That's the landlord's name; I know him if that's who you mean." The woman--Dr Brennan--was staring at me and it made me nervous; as is my habit, I tucked my lower lip under the upper when I finished speaking.

"Yeah. What can you tell us about him? When was the last time you saw him?"

"He collected the rent on the first, like he always does. In person. Stayed and chatted a bit, asked how the shop was doing, gave me a commission for his wife's Christmas present. I was expecting him any day now to discuss it further." I paused for a minute, thinking. "Yes, that's the last time I heard from him."

"Is that normal?"

"Sure. Most months, unless there's a problem, we only see him or expect to see him on the first." I shrugged. "He will come by in between, but we never know when, or which shop he'll swing by. Spot checks, I guess you'd call them. Why?"

Agent Booth was scribbling on a pad as I spoke, but Dr Brennan…she was still staring at me. At my mouth, to be specific. Great. One of those. I'm going to develop a complex one of these days, I swear.

"Remains found in Cunningham Falls State Park three days ago have been identified as your former landlord," she said. Oh, now she's finally participating. I shook my head.

"Sorry to hear that--he was a good man."

"Did he ever say anything about trouble, fights, anything like that?"

I shook my head again. "He wouldn't. He was friendly, but…private. His wife might know, I suppose."

He nodded, and she leaned forward. Somehow, I figured it wasn't to look at the goods in the display case. "You have a sizable hematoma on your lip; you should really have that taken care of. I understand there are several methods that preserve the shape and condition of the rest of the lip--laser, schlerotherapy…"

"Bones!"

I gave her a sharp, dirty look--the one I had perfected upon idiot customers, the ones who stopped mid-question, mid-comment, mid-complaint for God's sake to ask about the damned venous lake on my lip--then deliberately ignored her, turning my attention back to the Agent. She seemed oblivious to my irritation, but judging from the expression on his face, he had caught it. Guess that's why he's the agent and she's not.

And then she opened her mouth, plainly intending to carry on. Definitely oblivious. But he nudged her and caught her eye, shaking his head.

"But, Booth--"

"Later, Bones. Anything else you can tell us?" he asked, smoothly shifting his focus back to me.

I finished telling them (him, really) what I could about my fellow tenants' relationship with Patrick, a few more details I dredged up from the last time I saw him, wondering all the while if I should go ahead with that last piece or not. Would his wife still appreciate it?

"Thank you, Ms Churchill," he said, handing me a card. "If you think of anything else, please call."

"Sure." I tucked it into my pocket as they left, the shop's layout allowing me to hear every word.

"Bones, you really need to learn some tact. You know you shouldn't go around commenting on someone's physical appearance like that."

"I was only trying to be helpful," she protested. "She may not know there are treatments available that don't leave scarring--"

"Doesn't matter; that's the sort of thing you need to ease into…"

The door shut behind them, cutting off the rest of their conversation. I wondered who had been stupid enough to pair them, or let her out into the real world, before turning my attention back to putting out the new pieces. After all, no matter what happened to the landlord, I still had to make the rent.