Maura stood by the trunk of her car, balancing first on one foot, then the other, as she swapped one pair of high heeled shoes for another. She'd been called to a suspected crime scene at a community garden, and the narrowed points of her stilettos would sink right into the earth. She kept a sensible pair of neutral-toned wedge heels in the car for just such occasions. She smoothed out her dress, which had bunched up a little during the process, and looked down at her feet. They wouldn't be her first choice to pair with this dress, but hey, in a pinch…
"You could just start in more sensible shoes, you know," Jane's dry voice cut through Maura's thoughts and she jerked her head to find the detective standing by her unmarked a few yards away. She gave the other woman a withering stare.
"That is very helpful advice, detective. Perhaps you could pass along the address and business hours for the stable that provides you with your shoes." Maura kept her tone even as she nodded her head down at the profoundly utilitarian boots that Jane was wearing. Though trading barbs was rarely her first choice in communication styles, years of working with the deeply sarcastic Rizzoli had allowed Maura to hone some banter skills, though their methodology varied greatly. Jane's delivery was most typically quite acerbic, while Maura preferred a more matter-of-fact tone. Maura could tell her words had landed when Jane looked briefly taken aback. The detective quickly screwed up her face to respond in kind, but was interrupted by an urgent Frost.
"Doctor Isles, let me show you to the body. I was first on the scene and I… don't think it's good for it to be out here much longer."
Maura flicked her eyes over to Jane to see whether she was still planning to bite back, but the detective had looked away to snap on a pair of blue nitrile gloves. Maura relished in the temporary upper hand and turned to follow Frost, who was holding up the police tape for the doctor to pass under.
"What are we looking at here, detective Frost?"
"Ah, doc, you know me. I'm not looking very much," Frost swallowed with some difficulty. "But the body was discovered this morning when one of the volunteers came to turn the compost."
"And where was it found?" Maura took a moment to look around the garden as they strolled towards the crowd of uniformed police. It was quite a sweet garden. Many plots, all carefully tended, and numerous hand painted signs encouraging visitors to look and enjoy, but not pick or harvest. Despite being here for the possibility of examining a murder victim, or at the very least an unexpected death, it was a pleasant experience to walk through the garden. She still had a smile on her face when she accidentally locked eyes with Jane, who was walking closely behind them. Maura rolled her eyes and looked back to Frost, who looked dismayed.
"Uh, that is where it was found, Doctor. In the compost." Maura's eyes widened a little, easily imagining what effect that would have both on a body, and a lightweight like Barry.
"Oh. I see. I can take it from here, detective. I'll spare you having to come any closer." Frost's face brook out in relief, and the young detective fell back, quickly rerouting to question some onlookers instead. Unfortunately for Maura, that meant Jane took his place. The two women walked side by side in silence until they reached the crime scene.
As the crowd parted to make way, the compost heap came into view. At first glance, nothing even seemed amiss, but Maura's eyes soon caught the mottled and decomposing limbs sticking out from the bottom half of the pile.
"So, murder, right?" Jane gave her a sidelong glance.
"I haven't even begun my examination of the body, Detective Rizzoli." Maura tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. They've done this song and dance before, much more jovially, and she was pretty sure that Jane was either trying for a return to normalcy, or to rile her up. She wasn't sure which was worse. Jane parted her arms grandly, in a show of a feigned acquiescence.
"Yes, of course, doctor. Forgive me for leaping to conclusions. After all, so many people die of natural causes and then, under very normal and non-criminal circumstances, they end up buried halfway down a pile of rotting vegetables. Why, just last week—"
"This garden uses hot composting," Maura interrupted Jane's speech, holding her hand out over the pile to get a sense of the temperature. "It's much more work than cold composting, you need to make sure you have the correct ratio of nitrogen to carbon, but if successful it creates usable fertilizer much faster. Unfortunately, this also means that determining a time of death will be more difficult. Hot composting prevents maggots and other insects whose life spans could have given us a clearer indication for time of death. I'll need samples of the organic waste gathered to see what can be determined about the rate of degradation."
"…So, you're not at all willing to say it's probably suspicious?" Jane leaned her head just slightly forward, indicating to the compost pile. "A body ending up somewhere where the evidence can be masked or compromised by hot food goo, we're going to leave the door open on this being just a wrong place, wrong time?"
Maura sighed, preparing to put up a fight. But what was the point? She felt like Jane was drawing her into these arguments just so they'd be talking, and she didn't really want to give her that. "I'll admit, Detective, that the circumstances are…a little unusual."
Jane raised an eyebrow, and watched Maura's impassive face for a long moment. Suddenly, she jerked her thumb over to a sign by the compost pile that said BOSTON'S OLDEST ORGANIC COMMUNITY GARDEN. "I guess someone broke the rules, huh?"
Maura leaned her head back in confusion, "Jane, I assure you, human beings are organic." Jane groaned and threw her palms skyward.
"Oh, come on! I don't know a lot about gardening but I know that means like no pesticides and chemicals and stuff! There's no way a human body qualifies, you're just being obtuse!"
Obtuse? Maura raised her brows at the accusation. Not because it wasn't true, but because it was a bit of a ten letter word for Jane. She wondered where she picked that one up, and also wondered if Jane had noticed she'd accidentally called her by her first name, which she'd been trying to avoid. As Maura restored her focus, she noticed Jane had kept ranting. Probably not, then.
"—to the witnesses and leave you to your maybe-but-maybe-not crime scene." Jane theatrically flicked her eyes upward as she turned to walk towards Frost, who was standing with a group of distraught gardeners.
Maura watched her depart. That had felt pretty close to normal, in moments. Deep in the pit of her stomach, she felt a twist. Her life was much less eventful these days. Mostly uninterrupted days in the morgue or her office, coming home at night to stacks of medical journals and dinner alone. She'd caught up on a lot of the newest studies. She'd also perfected her beurre blanc. It wasn't unpleasant, but she found herself craving the socializing she'd grown quite accustomed to. It was a bit of an unusual feeling, given she'd avoided spending much time with the living before becoming friends with Jane.
Maura shook off the feeling and sunk down, crouching over her shoes as she began her examination of the body. She could tell this—both the autopsy and what she would privately admit was easily identifiable as some kind of crime scene—would present a challenge, and she was very game for the distraction.
Two hours of work later, Maura pulled the gloves from her hands, surveying the scene. Everything had been carefully collected and catalogued, with a perhaps excessive number of samples on their way back to the crime lab, and the body on its way to her morgue. Maura blew out a long upward breath, knocking her hair out of her eyes, and surveyed the rest of the garden. Every plot was being photographed and carefully combed for evidence, with a bunch of nervous gardeners watching closely from behind police tape, occasionally crying out at particularly rough treatment of a treasured plant. She looked for the detectives, and saw Frost over by a cruiser giving careful instructions to a few uniformed officers. Jane, meanwhile, was still talking to one of the gardeners. This struck Maura as odd, as it wasn't their habit to talk to witnesses alone. It was always better to have a second set of ears.
Maura took a moment to glance around, making sure no one was watching her watch Jane, and attempted to look busy with a text while she peered over her phone at the two women. It didn't seem to be about the case, just a friendly back and forth. The female gardener was tall, lithe, and wearing overalls. Her hair was messy, piled on top of her head in a loose bun. She had dirt on her hands and her knees. The two of them looked thick as thieves. At one point the other woman reached out and squeezed Jane's upper arm in a way that Maura found overly friendly for an investigation. She rolled her eyes and shrugged. Maybe this woman would become her new buddy. Maybe she was a Red Sox fan. Maybe she enjoyed domestic lager and cheap food and deeply misunderstanding why your best friend is mad at—oh my god they're looking at me.
Maura desperately wanted to look away, but that seemed like too much of a concession. To be embarrassed that she was caught staring would be an admission of guilt. She set her face in a neutral expression and stared back at the women, placing her hands on her hips. Jane turned to the gardener and gave a shrug that Maura knew too well. Jane had been talking about her, and for effect, she arranged her body in an exaggerated do you see what I mean pose. Both women laughed. Maura's nostrils flared, but she gave no other indication of her discomfort. She packed her bag and strode towards her car. In her peripheral vision, she could see Jane make a hasty goodbye, and chase after her. She walked faster.
Jane caught up to her at her car, where she was switching shoes again. "Wow, Maura, if you'd just gotten in your car you probably would have made your great escape, but fashion can't be rushed, I guess," Jane gestured down to Maura's shoes.
"I wasn't trying to escape," Maura snipped, then cleared her throat. "It seemed like you were having an unprofessional conversation, so I decided to give you your privacy. I don't usually see you yacking it up with witnesses."
"Jesus christ, Maura, it's yucking. Yucking it up."
"Thank you, Detective." She said Jane's title with dripping emphasis. "Either way, I wanted to leave you to your gossip about me."
Jane sighed. "I wasn't gossiping, Doctor," she pronounced the last word as emphatically as Maura had. "I was just catching up. I know her a little. She's the sister of a guy I went through the academy with, we hadn't seen each other in years. We all used to hang out. "Her voice then softened, already husky but dropping another octave," I'm sorry. I did say something about you and I shouldn't have. If you'd just let me—"
"Thank you so much for the apology, Detective Rizzoli," Maure interrupted quickly. "I'll have my preliminary observations to you by the end of the day, though I should warn you, based on my initial assessment of the scene, I don't expect to have anything conclusive for a while." Maura moved swiftly to get into her car before the conversation could continue, and put the vehicle in drive. She didn't turn around again, but she could see an exasperated Jane in her rear view mirror as she drove off.