Away Isn't Far Enough

8. The Line and the Lemon

Leslie Walkins' apartment looked like an ad in a magazine. Everything was perfectly in place, it was clean... too clean for Booth's taste. The woman herself was well dressed and her makeup was perfect. You would never be able to tell she was supposed to be grieving. Booth didn't like this at all. She hadn't even taken a day off of work.

"Inspector Walkins..." he started, putting his cup of tea directly on the table next to the couch.

"Call me Leslie," the woman said, getting up. She lifted the cup, wiped the table under it and put a coaster before setting it back down.

Freak, Booth thought.

"Leslie," he started again. "We were told you and agent Fielding were... romantically involved at some point."

The woman didn't even flinch.

"No," she said. "We kissed once..."

"Snogged?" Brennan chipped in. She loved that word.

"Shh, Bones," Booth told her, putting a hand on her knee.

She stared at it, waiting for him to take his hand off. But he didn't. She lifted his hand and set it on his own lap.

"We did. Once. But we weren't like that. We were mostly professional."

"Mostly professional?" Booth repeated. "What do you mean?"

"We were close friends. But we never crossed that line."

Brennan looked at Booth. But he was looking at her too so she pretended to look behind him before staring back to the floor.

Leslie got up and took the laundry basket full of clean clothes to bring it to the couch, where she started to fold her towels.

"You were close friends. And he didn't tell you about his undercover assignment?" Booth pushed her.

"He did. Three days before he died."

"And... how long had you two been partners?" Booth continued.

"Two years and a half."

"So..."

Leslie interrupted Booth.

"I'll make some more tea, yeah?"

And she fled to the kitchen.

Booth's jaw dropped. He looked at Brennan, trying not to laugh.

"She's weird!" he said.

Brennan didn't answer. She had found a picture of Leslie and her dead partner. In the picture, Leslie was looking up to the man in such a way that Brennan understood.

"She's got motive, too," Booth told her.

"What motive?" Brennan asked, out of it.

"He lied to her for almost three years!" he insisted. "That had to piss her off."

"There's no way in hell she killed him."

Booth gasped.

"Let me talk to her," Brennan said.

"Did you just say 'hell'?"

"Let me talk to her," she said again, growing impatient.

"And what is this? A gut feeling?" he teased her.

If a look could hurt, he'd definitely have a black eye with that one.

"Fine! Suit yourself. You'll never get anything out of her. She's a robot."