Chapter 1
I still don't own the Mentalist.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
Patrick Jane was late, and I was annoyed. I had called him half an hour ago and his phone had gone straight to voice mail. So now I was studiously watching the second hand tick its way around the face of my watch. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Thirty one minutes late. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Thirty two minutes late. Tick, tick, tick, tick.
"You know, glaring at your watch wont make it tick any faster."
"Jesus!"
"Where?"
"Not funny Jane, you're half an hour late."
"Thirty three minutes actually, but who's counting?" he replied with a grin.
"Where were you?"
"Asleep."
I knew he was lying but I decided to let it go this time.
"So, I'm assuming someone's been murdered?"
"Wow, Jane with skills like those, no wonder you were so successful."
I knew that was a cheap shot, but I was angry, I was getting tired of making allowances for his mistakes.
"Ouch," he grimaced "guess I deserved that."
I went into automatic detective mode.
"Thirty-two year old female victim. Cause of death single gunshot wound to the temple. Point-blank range. Any theories? Jane? Jane?"
I turned around, looking for him, until I saw a blond head bent over the desk in the corner.
"Jane! Gloves!" I barked at him from across the room.
He turned around, holding a sheet of lined paper up with two fingers.
"I wish I were dead." Was scrawled across it in red ink.
"Suicide?" I asked him.
He shrugged his shoulders "Maybe."
"Boss?"
I looked up. Van-Pelt was at the door.
"What?"
"We found relatives, she had three kids."
"Husband?"
She shook her head.
"Thanks Van-Pelt."
She nodded and turned around to join Rigsby and Cho as they canvassed the rest of the house.
"Why would she kill herself? She three kids to take care of." I asked Jane.
"Well," he replied "either she was incredibly selfish, incredibly sad, or she was murdered."
"Yeah, but which one?
"Lets go with murder, by far the most exiting."
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