A/N: I have this whole thing complete so I'll be posting a chapter a day for the next couple of weeks. Can't keep you in suspense too long and the wait is killing me just as much.

CHAPTER TWO

Angela sat in front of her bedroom dressing table, fixing her hair in the mirror. "You could come with me."

Frank folded in one side of the newspaper he was reading in bed. "I'd love to," he lied. "But like I said, you never know when a job might turn up. Not to mention the germs." He flicked his paper back open as Angela turned to look at him. "You don't want me touching sick people when I've had my hands down someone's soil pipe, do you?"

Angela deflated, "No, I suppose not." Happy with her appearance she stood to leave. "But it's such a good cause, I'm sure you'd find it worthwhile taking a day off."

"No, thank you," he said firmly. "Someone's gotta pay the bills, with you deciding to take off willy-nilly."

She had felt a little guilty about requesting a few days off, after all she'd only had the waitressing job for a few months and though she'd settled in wonderfully, at least as far as the customers were concerned, Mr. Stanley was still a handful.

She was downhearted at having to go alone but determined to show Carla Talucci a thing or two and she was barely out of the room for three seconds when Frank heard her raised voice in the corridor, "It wouldn't kill you to give something back to the community."

Huffing against the headboard, he closed his eyes for a second, breathing in patience and exhaling anger. She didn't hear his acidic response, "The only thing I'd like to give back to this community is all the shit I've unclogged from people's toilets."

oOo

It wasn't the nicest place to talk to a grieving relative but Jane had escorted the woman to the most comfortable interview room they had, secured a box of Kleenex for the table, and duly supplied her with a steaming hot cup of coffee.

"I'm sorry to make you go over this again, Ms. Mitchell…" She smiled, "… Barbara. But just so we're clear…" Jane clasped her hands in her lap and leaned in, trying to be as friendly and comforting as possible. Frost was next to her, pen in hand, ready to take notes. "Your father, Harry Mitchell, was eighty-two, in good health according to you and a resident at Beechgrove Residential Home?"

"Yes," replied the blonde, fighting a lump in her throat. "A nurse called me late last night. I got here as quickly as I could but I was too late."

"And what makes you think he died of neglect?"

"I'd been unhappy about his care for a while. They were lazy, the staff, but any complaints I made were ignored. I think they're just in it for the profits. They don't care about the residents."

"So you spoke to someone about his care then?"

The woman nodded and swiped a tissue from the box. "It was lots of little things, y'know. His clothes went missing and then I'd see them on other people, or I'd get there and he'd be wearing someone else's pajamas. One time he was almost crying in pain because he'd been waiting two hours to go to the bathroom. He'd get dinner late, like they'd forgotten about him. He told me… he told me how it was rancid and cold." She sniffed and wiped her nose.

Trying to be delicate but unable to avoid the bigger question, Jane hedged, "Was there anything… more… serious that happened that might have put his life at risk?"

The woman looked offended regardless of Jane's efforts at tact and raised her voice, "No, but… they killed him. I know it!"

Jane turned her head and met Frost's equally stony gaze. They definitely had something to work with but she hoped, at least for Barbara Mitchell's sake, that it wasn't just wishful thinking. For all she knew, even with a belly full of cold slop and wearing someone else's pajamas, Harry could simply have met his maker courtesy of natural causes. If that was the case, given the angry tears she was consoling now, Barbara wasn't going to like it.

oOo

The Beechgrove Retirement Home's general manager was very accommodating. The petite woman had shown them into her office and proceeded to talk openly, seemingly without any heirs or graces, about the performance of her facility and its staff.

"The Board of Care Quality passed us at our last audit. A cluster of deaths like this is unusual but I'm one hundred percent certain nothing untoward has happened."

Jane let Frost play bad cop and he scowled fiercely as he asked, "What about the accusations of neglect? We know there have been complaints."

The woman sighed, like they just didn't understand what she had to cope with, "Some families are challenging to deal with… high maintenance. Nothing we do for their relative is good enough and it makes for tense times between them and the staff when they visit."

Jane smiled sweetly, nodding even as her eyes lingered on a framed photo that sat on the desk; the manager had her arms around a tall, blonde woman as they shared a kiss. The detective could play the good cop really well. It worked like a treat on this particular female and the manager smiled in return, accepting Jane's fake empathy and looking almost apologetic that she could do nothing to fix the issue. The brunette spoke softly, encouraging co-operation with a brief nod, "We'll need to see all care plans and speak to your staff."

The manager held her hands up, eager to get this cleared up, "Of course, I'll get a nurse to escort you."

They all stood and filed out into the foyer where a pixie-haired, brunette woman in uniform was approaching.

Already heading their way, an air of self-importance gave Jane the feeling she expected the meeting, but the manager called her name anyway.

"Charlie." She turned to the detectives and made introductions. "This is our Chief Staff Nurse, Charlie Winter. She'll show you around."

As the manager turned and left, the smiling nurse pressed the hand sanitizer dispenser that was mounted on the wall and proceeded to rub her hands very thoroughly.

Jane and Frost waited, watching in silence until Charlie exclaimed and clapped, "Right! I'm all yours."

oOo

They had spent the entire day talking to staff members. Charlie had escorted them everywhere, made introductions, provided tidbits of information about the center each time they walked the corridors, and stopped to help other staff with medical procedures here and there. It was as if she was doing orientation with two medical students rather than assisting detectives investigating a possible homicide.

They were finally on their way out when Jane turned a corner and literally bumped into her mother.

"Oh, Janie!" The older Rizzoli gripped her daughter in a fierce hug. "I knew you'd come."

Frost had come to a stop behind Angela and he smirked as he watched Jane go bog-eyed and mouth Help me as her face was crushed against her mother's shoulder.

"Oh, Father Crowley's sermon was so moving; I knew it would have the same effect on you as it had on me." She let Jane go, shaking her by the biceps before prodding her once in the chest, "You have such a big heart under all that bravado."

Frost decided he'd take pity on his partner and tried to divert Angela's attention, "Mrs. Rizzoli, we're not -"

"What he means to say is…" Jane blurted, halting his well-intentioned confession. "We just came to look around." She considered the suits and badges they still conspicuously wore, "On the way home." It sounded convincing enough to her own ears.

Angela practically squealed as Frost gave Jane the stink-eye for lying, "But you're here, Jane, that's what matters."

"Yeah." She smiled sweetly, but as Angela turned away her eyes widened and she jerked a throat-slitting motion with her hand. A grunt and a stomp of her foot told Frost to put a sock in it before his big mouth got her in trouble. She was gonna make the best of a bad situation.

"Well let me know next time and we can come together!" Jane didn't have a chance to argue or decline as Angela was already shuffling backwards away down the corridor, shucking a thumb over her shoulder, "I gotta go, sweetie. I promised Mr. Balls a bed bath before dinner."

Frost was snickering loudly into the fist pressed to his mouth as Jane waved glumly at her retreating mother. With a fake smile still plastered on her face she sung quietly without moving her mouth, "Have fun washing Mr Balls' wrinkly balls!"

Frost laughed out loud and clapped her on the shoulder. "One of these days you'll stand up to her."

Angela had disappeared into a side room but Jane continued to stare off down the corridor. Absently she said, "I will," but her head was tilted to the side, her attention caught by somebody else.

It was the legs she noticed first; strong, shapely, bare legs. No one she'd met today had been dressed like that and she doubted anyone finishing their shift would bother to redress in such a manner just for the trip home. She elbowed Frost in the ribs and jerked her head in the gorgeous blonde's direction.

Frost squinted as the woman turned side on, a large black medical case held firmly at her side.

The woman was talking to someone, giving instructions, or granting permission, something that gave her an air of authority. With a flick of her hair the woman turned to look up the corridor.

"Oh, wow," breathed Frost as the two detectives appeared to be recognized. "Is that Dr. Isles?"

The woman was already walking purposefully this way, her towering high heels clicking on the sterile floor. Jane grinned as the familiar, smiling face got closer and closer, "Yeah, it is."