Hey, guys! I'm going to try to post two chapters in a day because they seem to be so short. It also doesn't help that I'm extraordinarily impatient.
I'm trying to account for the loss of Lee Thompson Young (may he finally find peace) in this story, so I hope you guys don't get too worked up about the absence of Frost.
"Glad Frost isn't here right now. This one's a doozy," Korsak greeted them, chivalrously lifting up the yellow police tape for the two women.
"Where is Frost, anyway?"
"Dunno. Couldn't reach him." He turned to one of the blues posted outside the crime scene tape. "Hey, can you look up Detective Frost's mother and give her a call? He's MIA."
They were in an alley not far from Fenway between two old apartment buildings. Blood was smeared expertly across the white alley wall in deliberately warped circles. Two lines from the middle pointed outward. Twelve dots on the perimeter. A tree, a strange lump with eyelashes.
"Clocks?" Jane asked incredulously. "Appropriate. Bastard certainly took enough time doing this."
"The detail is exquisite…" Maura observed, impressed. Noting the look of disapproval she received from Korsak and Jane, she quickly added, "For a murderer, of course."
Jane looked at her skeptically. "Is this…a work of art?"
"I wouldn't call it that, Jane. It is a rather accurate, albeit seemingly rushed, rendition of Salvador Dali's "The Persistence of Memory."
Jane and Korsak exchanged a look. "That sounds awfully personal," she said to the older detective.
The medical examiner crouched down beside the body. "Black. Male. Early thirties. No identification…time of death, about 11 p.m. last night."
Jane paled.
"Ugh. Are those ants?!" Jane backed away from the body, where an army of ants were busy eating some sort of sugary substance on a pocket watch.
"Oh! More attention to detail. There are ants consuming a watch in The Persistence of Memory. It is thought to symbolize the decay of memories with time. In his other—"
"All right. All right. We'll bag it," Jane said, cutting off the blonde, who huffily went back to looking over the body.
"No tattoos, no cell phone, nothing? How long are those fingerprints gonna take?" Jane asked anxiously.
"We need to get them back to the lab, Jane," Korsak said soothingly. "This is just a coincidence. Why would Frost be down here?"
Jane racked her brain, trying to conjure up any reason her partner would be down this far south. She tried to think of any identifying features that her partner would have… a birthmark, tattoo, scar? She couldn't think of anything.
Do I know my partner at all? Jane wondered ruefully.
"Got any murder weapons?" Jane asked, looking at the multiple head wounds and gashes throughout the body. The face was distorted: bruises, gashes and swelling obscured any facial features.
"Massive head trauma. Likely due to blunt force trauma. These lacerations over here," Maura said, pointing to the vic's neck and wrists, "were inflicted post-mortem by a very sharp weapon. I'll be able to tell more once I get this body back to the morgue."
The loud tone of her ringtone jolted Jane's attention away from the bloodied body before her.
"Rizzoli."
"Hey, babe. I was wondering what time you'd be home for dinner? The apartment looks wonderful, by the way. Didn't take you to be the cleaning type."
Jane tapped her foot in frustration, motioning to officers what evidence she wanted bagged.
"I'm not. And I'm on a case right now, so I don't think dinner is really an option."
She motioned for one of the officers to begin searching through the small dumpster.
"Would've been nice to know. I'm in the middle of making a lovely risotto and ratatouille. Are you in the office? I could bring some over when it's done."
Casting a glance at the lifeless body at her feet, she sighed heavily.
"Not sure when I'll be back. I, uh, have a lot to deal with here. I have to go now. Bye."
"Was that Casey?" Maura asked nonchalantly.
"Yes." The words were forced out through gritted teeth. "He's making risotto and ratatouille and wanted to know when I'd be home for dinner." She finished her statement with a broad, disingenuous smile.
"That sounds like quite a lovely celebratory dinner, Jane." Maura was not looking at Jane, finishing up with her prodding and measuring.
"Celebrating what?" Jane asked, motioning for an officer to come speak with her.
"For your engagement, of course."
Jane turned to the officer, "Have you gotten in contact with Frost's mother?"
"We haven't been able to get ahold of her yet," he responded.
"Have you tried Frost again?"
"Yes, no answer."
"Keep trying. And send a uniform out to Frost's house and his mother's."
Jane turned back to Maura, only to see the woman's figure across the street, ducking inside her police cruiser.
"I haven't told him yet," Jane said, sliding into the driver's seat.
The loud click of her seatbelt and the roar of the engine turning over made the silence that followed that much more deafening. The car remained idling in the street. Jane couldn't bring herself to put the car in gear, so she just sat, not daring to look at her best friend.
The unspoken question hung between them.
Why?
Her eyes darted to the right, just catching a glimpse of creamy white calves and of hot pink material barely covering tempting thighs. She didn't dream of turning her head to look further up, where she knew the medical examiner's white blouse scooped down, revealing the tops of curvaceous breasts.
"He needs to know, Jane. He won't wait forever." Maura said evenly.
They both knew that she wasn't talking about Casey. She comforted herself with the knowledge that about half of first marriages in the United States end in divorce.
She shifted her legs, demurely crossing her left over her right, very consciously giving Jane a view of her ass.
Dr. Isles, you're just going to have to step up your game. Maura smiled at herself for using the colloquialism correctly.
"So, Jane, how is your sex with Casey?"
"WHAT?" Jane nearly choked on the tepid coffee she had just started to sip. Maura reached over to gently pat the convulsing and coughing Jane on the shoulder, only to miss and find her hand on Jane's right breast, prompting another round of surprised coughing from the detective.
"Sorry," Jane eked out, her usually raspy voice at a strained whisper. She coughed a few more times. "Wrong pipe." She put the car in drive and gunned the gas, driving slightly more recklessly than usual in a futile attempt to make the car trip as short as possible.
"You've just seemed a little tense these past few days. I was simply wondering if he was effective at making you orgasm."
Jane tightly gripped the steering wheel, narrowly missing a pedestrian and running a biker off the road and onto the crowded sidewalk.
"Oops." Jane waved in apology at the disgruntled biker and toyed with the idea of putting her flashers on.
"Studies show that sex is a good anxiety reducer, and is proven to help lower blood pressure, not to mention the benefits to your immune system. It increases the immunoglobin A, an antibody that is one of the first responders to infections…"
Jane let the blonde rattle on, choosing to focus on weaving through the 5 pm traffic and hopefully getting away from the thoughts of a certain Dr. Isles performing a certain stress reducing activity.
I should be thinking about Casey.
Muscled, hairy legs. A short torso, bouncy curled hair over man-nipples.
Nipples. Maura had nipples. Nice, round, hair-free nipples. Ones that poked enticingly out at her from that purple silk nightgown and from that scoop neck blouse…
"Jane!"
Jane looked up to notice a green light and some very angry Bostonians in the cars behind her. She guiltily gunned the gas quicker than was called for, face burning with the shame of being caught staring at her best friend's rack.
Maura smiled in triumph.
Why hadn't she done this before? It was so easy. Now it was a zero-sum game. She either won it all or lost it all.
Could she stand to lose it all? Jane was her best friend, her only friend. The one person who understood her, the one person who could stand her. The only person who had ever stayed the night in her bed without having sex with her, without expecting something of her.
The more pressing question was: against whom was she playing this game for Jane?
Herself? Her best friend? Casey?
Casey certainly believed that he was playing against Maura. His visit to her office underscored that. Putting aside her own feelings for the detective, Maura had never necessarily liked Casey. He had time and again hurt Jane, and that was inexcusable. She ticked off the advantages Casey had over herself in her head.
One, he had a penis. She could easily fix that obstacle with a couple of online purchases and a bit of self-confidence.
Two, he and Jane had a history together. She remembered the stories about his coming to her defense in high school and their prom night. Well, the two of them had a history as well, one that was more recent and likely more meaningful.
Three, Jane owed him something. Though Maura hated to guess, she knew that Jane most likely felt a deep sense of obligation toward the colonel for all of the support he provided her through high school. Now that he needed her, she felt obligated to be there for him. Something, Maura knew, that did not necessitate sex or marriage.
Four, Casey was seemingly the last bastion of Jane's heterosexuality. Maura decided this was the most pressing obstacle to overcome, and she knew just how to do it.
He might be on the lead now, but Maura had the house field advantage.
Note to self: brush up on sports slang.
She knew one thing for sure, and that was Jane.