"Morning."
Ronnie looked up at the gravelly sound of Cho's voice accompanied by the fresh, wafting scent of Old Spice. Her partner entered the kitchen in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, hair dripping from a shower. He padded closer in socked feet to where she leaned over the island, sipping on a peanut-butter-color protein smoothie.
Cho's gaze trailed from her French braided hair, compression shirt, and bicycle shorts, to her running shoes. "You went running?" He checked his watch and noted that it was only five-forty. When she nodded, unable to talk past the smoothie straw in her mouth, he shuffled past her to the counter by the window and fell still at the realization that their borrowed home didn't have a coffee pot.
Sighing disappointedly, he turned and leaned against the sink. "Should we go for breakfast?"
She dumped her smoothie cup in the sink and clapped a hand to his shoulder as she exited the kitchen. "I'll go get changed."
the MENTALIST
Cho pulled her chair out at a five-star bakery in town that didn't sell anything for less than twelve dollars. Settling in carefully, tucking her heeled feet behind a table leg and checking the time on her watch, Ronnie set a mental timer for the forty minutes she had before she needed to head to the club to meet Jackie.
"Running and a spin class?" Cho commented when he noticed. "What's stressing you out?"
She paused in laying her napkin over her lap. "What makes you think I'm stressed?"
He sipped from a fourteen dollar coffee. "You always run when you're stressed."
"But I don't only run when I'm stressed." She refuted, taking in the atmosphere. The bakery sat in the middle of a vineyard estate, with enough windows to be almost entirely sunlit with a modern rustic style. She wished there was one closer to Sacramento. It was the prettiest room she'd ever had breakfast in.
When she refocused on her own table, Cho was watching her. "So, what's stressing you out?"
She shrugged. "The FBI is coming to get my help on Carla's open operations." Her eyes kept flitting around the room as though someone from the club was going to walk in and overhear her conversation about her felonious mother. "Exonerated or not, I'm not exactly proud of my past involvement with her."
The lines between her partner's eyebrows deepened as he frowned in disbelief. "She coerced and forced you into your involvement, not to mention all the things she let others force upon you." He caught the way her skin paled in reaction to his words, and reached out to cover her hand with his own. "Don't get sucked back in. We're here for you."
Months of therapy following her escape from her mother's regime came flooding back to the forefront of her mind. All of it seemed pointless in the face of having to jump back into her mother's head and unearth more of the horrors that she'd made her life's work.
All she wanted to do was stop talking about it. "So what are you doing today?"
He shrugged disinterestedly. "Going over the data that we've gotten so far until the party tonight. You may be playing a trophy wife, but I am nothing more than a prop husband."
Ronnie flipped their hands so that hers was on top and rubbed his condescendingly. "Aw, honey, don't be so hard on yourself. You're such a pretty prop husband."
the MENTALIST
The spin class with Jackie was promptly followed by a trip to the steam room. Ronnie went through the motions—forty-five minutes of tedious, short-sprint spinning to thirty minutes of being wrapped in a plush towel and sitting in the billowing clouds of warm moisture, all while hearing Jackie yammer on and on about the CBI agents who paraded her around the club the day before.
When she mentioned that the 'gorgeous Agent Rigsby' had insinuated that Asra and Victor were having an affair, Ronnie plucked the cucumbers off her eyes. "Hold on a second, who's Asra?" She vaguely remembered Van Pelt mentioning the name.
Jackie rolled her eyes and flapped her hands dismissively. "Asra is Victor Marquesa's accounts manager. They're definitely not having an affair, and I told Agent Rigsby exactly that. I think he listened, but we weren't exactly seeing eye to eye, if you know what I mean."
Ronnie all but choked on her own disgust. "Oh, my."
Jackie's peals of laughter reverberated off the damp walls. "In fact, Asra's not having an affair with a man, at all."
She was waiting for a shocked reaction, so Ronnie gave her one of surprised intrigue. "Oh?" She pushed back the dripping wisps of stray hairs around her temples and ears, wishing her own gym had a steam room.
Jackie leaned in closer as though anyone else were in the room with them to overhear. "Mandy Realjak." She threw her head back with a scandalous grin and giggled wickedly. "That's why Mandy needed the two nights at the Cliffside Inn that she won in the silent auction yesterday."
Ronnie had no idea what she was talking about, but pumped an equal amount of excitement into her expression. "Mandy and Asra?"
Jackie sniffed in satisfaction and leaned her head back against the wall. "They're there now, you know. They think they're hiding it, but everyone knows. Nothing's a secret here, really. And, anyways, we all know it was Victor who killed Scarlett."
Distinctly remembering having a very different conversation about how Jackie thought that Patience had killed her, Ronnie allowed the confusion to show. "How can you know that?"
Jackie shruggd carelessly. "It's always the husband, isn't it? Ninety-nine percent of the time, it's the husband."
"Seventy percent, actually." Ronnie muttered, and then glanced over to see Jackie's surprised stare. "I think."
the MENTALIST
Upon leaving the steam room, Ronnie turned the corner and walked directly into Patience Brodbench, Patience dropping her purse, cellphone, and keys, and Ronnie nearly dropping her towel.
"Oh!" Patience's eyes went wide.
"I'm so sorry, that's my fault," Ronnie squatted carefully, scooping up the phone and keys as Patience dove for her belongings. The initials SM caught Ronnie's eye on the keychain as she handed them back, repeated her fervent apology.
Patience shook her head, hurriedly shoving the items back into her purse. "Not at all, I wasn't paying attention."
Ronnie flashed a sweet smile. "Well, it was nice running into you."
The other woman scoffed at the pun and then forced a pleasant smile back. "Yes, of course. I'll see you tonight?" She didn't wait for Ronnie to respond, instead rushing on around the corner and disappearing.
Ronnie readjusted her towel and flipped open her own phone. She opened her messages to Cho. 'Patience has Scarlett's keys.'
A few seconds passed and then he responded, 'Jane thinks the keys were stolen to get into Scarlett's safe. Search warrant for it is already underway.'
A few more seconds.
'Van Pelt identified the lipstick on the napkin.'
Ronnie snapped the phone shut and hurried on to her locker room. The search warrant would take far longer than it took Patience to cross the building and break into the chairwoman's safe.
the MENTALIST
Ronnie decided that her best bet for catching Patience and not look like a cop was to call Cho and have him come play prop husband for a few minutes. After she got dressed, she headed for the office just in time to hear Patience wandering around inside, talking in hushed tones on the phone.
By the time Cho walked up, perfectly groomed, Patience could be heard opening the safe.
Grabbing Ronnie's hand, Cho knocked on the door and then pushed it open, mid-fake laugh. They both fell still at the sight of the blonde woman leaning into the safe, looking up at them with a guilty expression.
"Patience!" Ronnie exclaimed, feigning surprise. She gestured to Cho. "We're looking for Jackie—what are you doing?"
Patience stood up abruptly, attempting to appear cool and deliberate. She had her hand still in the safe, the object in her clutches still out of sight. "Veronica, hello again. And—I'm sorry, I don't remember your name, I'm terrible with names." She laughed at herself, directing her awkward explanation to Cho.
He merely extended a hand for her to shake. "So am I, no worries. Kimball."
Patience introduced herself again, but didn't shake his hand.
Ronnie was moving closer, wide-eyed suspicion evident in the lift of her eyebrows. "This is Scarlett's office, isn't it? Jackie said you wanted her job, and now you're in her safe?"
Cho's job was to soften her aggressive approach. "Honey, relax, maybe she's allowed to be in the safe, she's got the keys."
Patience chuckled nervously and ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, of course, I'm just—"
"Then what is that? What's in your hand?" Ronnie moved forward and forced a gasp at the sight of numerous little baggies, some in Patience's hands and the rest in a container in the safe. "Is that drugs?"
Patience paled, stepping away from Ronnie's rapidly approaching form. Within seconds, Patience was anxiously explaining herself, sweat beading on her upper lip. She told them that Scarlett had been dealing prescription medication to buyers in the Villas and at the club, and that she had recently gotten in on it herself. When Scarlett had died, she swiped her keys and went to collect the drugs to start her own little business. Not only could she preserve the club's reputation by not leaving it to the police to expose that the chairwoman was a drug dealer, but she could continue the legacy and drum up her own private income.
the MENTALIST
"So, Scarlett was dealing drugs. Everybody in town was on her client list, and Patience wanted to take over the business." Ronnie crossed her arms over her chest and stared out across the golf greens, crossing one leg over the other.
Cho sat next to her on a courtyard bench, one arm stretched over the back of it behind her. "Patience could have killed her to gain control of it."
"But the message on the napkin said 'now we're even'. There's some kind of revenge element involved, and Patience hasn't mentioned bitterness over not being elected chairwoman even once. You'd think if it bothered her enough to kill a woman, it would bother her enough to talk about it every so often." Ronnie leaned back on the bench.
A car pulled up in front of the club, easily recognizable in her eyes as a CBI vehicle. Rigsby stepped out, pulling his jacket closed to button it and smooth down his tie.
"We'll spend tonight talking to the guests at the party and see what we can do to sus out some bitterness." Cho said, breathing in the fresh air deeply. "How was the spin class?"
At the sudden change of subject, Ronnie snorted. "They spin about as slowly as you, honestly. It was almost as relaxing as the sauna we steamed in afterwards." She jabbed an elbow against his ribs, laughing as he grunted humorously.
"Spin class and sauna? This is quite the rejuvenating trip for you." Cho watched her face as she processed the words, noting silently that the darkness under her eyes had lightened ever so slightly, and the tightness around her mouth hadn't been present all morning. She really had been able to relax.
Shrugging awkwardly, she sucked in a bracing breath. "I like a little pampering every now and then. I hear they have a great spa here, I could get a massage. We could get a couple's massage."
Cho smirked at the teasing jeer on her lips. "Sure, right after we get matching tattoos." He brushed a hand over her shoulder to get her attention and nodded towards the club doors, where Rigbsy was sauntering towards a very overdressed Jackie.
A bursting laugh bubbled up Ronnie's throat at the sight of Jackie's dress squeezing her hips with a vice grip and pushing her bust up until her cleavage was practically bouncing beneath her chin. "Wow, do you think she likes him?"
"This is baffling to me." Cho returned blankly. "He can't convince Van Pelt to even look at him and he's got this rich married woman just throwing herself at him."
Ronnie snorted. "Oh, Van Pelt looks at him. Trust me."
He turned raised eyebrows toward her and stiffened as she leaned into his side and rested her head on his arm. "Kinda seems like you like it here."
She rolled her head across his bicep to squint up into his eyes. "One of these anorexic vultures is a murderer and the rest of them are just your average dissatisfied strung out wives. It's not exactly my crowd. Also, the lipstick I'm wearing is fifty dollars a tube."
He shrugged, purposefully bumping her head up and down with the motion. She glowered at the jarring movement on her neck. "I don't mean the wardrobe and the people. Although the wardrobe does suit you, a little."
Ronnie raised her eyebrows. "Wow, Cho, are you flirting with me?"
His expression blanked out completely. "No, I'm observing that you look better in an evening gown than you do in Dickies work pants."
She pouted teasingly. "Do I look ugly in my Dickies work pants?"
He jostled her head again. "Don't do that, it's manipulative. You're supposed to look better in an evening gown, that's why they exist. I'm just saying—like during the Carlotta Moro case—you've expressed discomfort with dressing up before, and I just think that someone who knows you should tell you that the glam suits you." He let his hand fall on her arm, and then suddenly his arm wasn't on the back of the bench, it was wrapped around her shoulders.
Ronnie liked the warmth of his body heat pressed into her. "Thanks, Cho." She sighed deeply. Jane and Cho were the only men who had ever made her feel beautiful with their words. People who used to compliment her would do so as foreplay, insincerely, and without any kind of warmth. "Really means a lot to hear that." She took a moment to evaluate his actual question, and then admitted, "I like the idea of having a place. A place of community and activity and indulgence. You can have lunch with a friend here, you can spend time working out here, you can get a massage here, it's a membership club to your own personal individualized heaven. Yeah, I like it."
He took that in for a second.
Her eyes flashed back to Rigsby.
"Too bad country club memberships are over five hundred dollars a month." Cho deadpanned.
Rigsby was talking to Jackie animatedly, and as both of his undercover colleagues watched, he suddenly rushed forward and placed his hands on the woman's face.
Ronnie's stomach churned. "Oh, lord, Cho, can we go? I don't want to watch this."
He laughed deep in his chest and pushed them both to their feet before wrapping his arm around her waist and escorting her towards the car.
the MENTALIST
Heather's house looked almost exactly the same as the one that the CBI was borrowing. Unlike the one that the CBI was borrowing, hers was fully furnished and brightly lit all the way through, not at all feeling like someone had broken into a model home and decided to live there.
Ronnie and Cho stepped through the doors in full glam at precisely eight thirty, warm light washing over them in contrast to the darkness of the exterior. Heather greeted them with a brilliant, beaming smile that looked nothing like the drawn, exhausted expression she'd worn the day before when Ronnie met her.
She swept them into the room and deposited them instantly into an existing conversation between Mandy and two other couples, throwing around introductions and then disappearing to get drinks for the newest guests.
Ronnie picked up the flow of the conversation smoothly, turning up her reactions when a random middle aged woman started showing off her new engagement ring, muting her reactions when someone mentioned Scarlett's death in passing, and mimicking the social behaviors of the women around her with almost pathological ease.
Carla Masters had practically turned her into a social psychopath.
Cho, meanwhile, leaned into the clusters of husbands, willing himself to laugh along with bad jokes and clink glasses to meaningless business ventures and nod along thoughtfully to political conjecture.
When Heather floated her way back around to Ronnie, she snagged the younger woman and pulled her aside. "I just wanted to welcome you. I know it gets stuffy around here and these parties can be so expositional, but I just wanted you to know that there's so much to love about this area."
Pressing a manicured hand to her chest and adopting a touched smile, Ronnie thanked her sweetly. "I actually spent quite a bit of time at the club today, and I can't believe how amazing it is."
Heather refilled her own glass. "There's so much to do if you want to be involved. We have groups, and the committee of course, plus all the classes we host. If there's something you're interested in, I can point you in the right direction."
Ronnie chatted her up about running and squash tournaments for half an hour before she started to notice the hostess's expression begin to droop.
"Are you alright? You look sad." Ronnie laid a comforting hand on the older woman's arm. "Were you close to Scarlett?"
Heather tried to smile but failed pathetically. "We were close professionally of course, but no, actually, I wasn't thinking of Scarlett. Is that awful?"
Shrugging, confused, Ronnie frowned in concern. "Is there something you would like to talk about?"
Heather seemed to be debating with herself about whether or not she wanted to open up to the new girl, and finally she uttered an embarrassed laugh and touched her forehead reluctantly. "I lost my daughter this year. Car accident. I'm afraid it still wears on me sometimes."
Sympathy put a damper on Ronnie's cold suspicion for a moment. "I'm so sorry to hear that."
Heather nodded gratefully, tears glinting in her eyes. "She was sixteen. She'd made some...difficult choices that put her in that car that night, and all I can do is wish that I'd seen it well enough to help her."
A little lost in the ambiguity, Ronnie nodded along empathetically. "I can't imagine how hard it must be to power through like you do."
Something flashed across Heather's face and disappeared quickly before Ronnie could identify it. "We all do our best, I suppose." She smiled tightly. "Anyhow, we're all so happy you and your husband are here. Please, let me know if there's anything I can do to help you settle in."
Ronnie watched her move on to another guest, details from the past two days rushing through her head.
She crossed the room to Cho, leaning in to whisper daintily in his ear and pull him away from the conversation he was trapped in. When he gratefully snaked his arm around her waist and followed her to a quiet part of the room, she mentioned what Heather had said.
"So maybe the daughter was mixed up in the drugs that Scarlett was selling." Cho reasoned, his face mere inches from hers. He was so close he had to look down to meet her eyes, his breath ghosting across her cheeks.
Ronnie leaned into him, curling her fingers around the fabric of his jacket just to give her hands something to do. "If she was, then Heather would have motive."
She didn't miss the way Cho's hands were both on her waist, playing with the embroidery of her richly woven green dress.
When he took in a breath, the scent of her perfumed hair pervaded his senses. "She could also just be a grieving mother. Her daughter died only this year, she's still going through hell."
Ronnie smiled up at him for the sake of any onlookers and then reached up to play with his tie. She wasn't putting on a show by it; her hands needed something to do, and they often distracted themselves with various aspects of Cho's accessories.
He couldn't count the times she'd slumped over her desk, cheek smushed into her own arm as it reached across the divide between their workstations to play with the watch on his wrist.
He'd even been the surprised victim of her shoving her hand in his jacket pocket a dozen times out of sheer boredom and a lack of impulse control.
So when she reached up and took his tie in both hands, running her thumbs down the textured weave of the pattern, he merely stepped closer to save his neck from her grip.
"I'll text Jane about it either way. He'll have some ideas." She responded distractedly.
Cho leaned back the slightest bit, his eyes studying her closely.
"What?" Her voice came in a whisper under his scrutiny. She hadn't realized until that moment that his position directly in front of her gave him a bird's eye view of the mild amount of cleavage that her dress provided, though she hadn't noticed him looking.
"Do you have a thing for Jane?" He asked finally, and his hands felt hot against the hard lines of her waist.
Confused laughter started in her chest before she could stop it, until the frown of curiosity on his face told her he was serious. She quieted and let go of his tie, picking up her drink once more. "No, not at all. Not only is he like fifteen years older than me, but he definitely treats me like a little girl."
She didn't notice the way Cho nodded in agreement, her observations still tumbling from her expensively painted lips. "In fact, I'm pretty sure we've built quite the psychological surrogacy case. His daughter is gone and my dad might as well be in the ether, so we kind of adopted each other. Is that weird?"
"Yes." Cho deadpanned, but he didn't mean it. Before he could amend himself, a chorus of screams arose from somewhere near the kitchen.
The panic rose and spread throughout the room until the news reached the agents:
Patience Brodbence had been murdered.
the MENTALIST
"This was fun." Ronnie handed Van Pelt her suitcase full of designer clothes. "I enjoyed this, thanks, Grace."
She flashed her colleague a chiding look. "Two women were murdered, Ronnie. You're not supposed to have fun."
Ronnie shrugged. "I got to play rich, though."
"And married," Van Pelt added, sending a significant look to the stoic Cho who stood near his desk. "Are you sure that wasn't the fun part?"
Laughing loudly at the suggestion that being married to Mr. That Dress Is Too Expensive could be anything but exceptionally plain, Ronnie fluffed a hand through her hair and zipped up her cheap hoodie. "Oh yeah. The husband made all the difference."
As though he could hear her, Cho's eyes snapped to hers, a suspicious frown darkening his features.
She shot a brilliant grin back and mimicked Jackie's flirty wave, winking for good measure.
Cho rolled his eyes and gave her his back, carrying on his conversation with Jane.
"So." Ronnie turned back to Van Pelt. "Heather locked away, Rigsby on a date with Cougar Jackie; how was your first case, boss?"
Grace glowered and signed the inventory list for the rented designer clothes and bags. "Shut up."
[end of episode fifteen]