Dolcemente - Part 3

A Rizzoli & Isles (J/M) Story
By Enginerd


Rizzoli & Isles were created by Tess Gerritsen and adapted for TV by Janet Tamaro.  This story takes place prior to the Season Two finale (which does not exist in my R&I universe) and contains mature themes involving the love and its physical expression between two women. 

Chapter 10 - Confession

Maura and Constance were having a quiet dinner in Maura’s home as her mother reflected upon the day she spent at the Art Gallery.  Maura was absently dragging her fork through her wild rice, not making much headway eating it or her roasted chicken.  She wasn’t particularly hungry.

“And there was an interesting portrait that looked nothing like Jane,” Constance offered with amusement, looking curiously at her daughter, whose gaze finally glanced up to meet hers.


“Darling, am I boring you?” Constance said wryly, sipping her water. 
“Uh,” Maura said uncomfortably, seeing her mother looking at her expectantly.  “I’m sorry, mother.  I’ve been a bit distracted.  What were you saying?” she said with an apologetic smile.

“Nothing as important as what’s on your mind, dear.  Something wrong at work?”

Maura hesitated but answered “No.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s really hard to say exactly,” Maura said with a shrug and glanced uncomfortably at her mother, who remained quiet, waiting for her to explain.  After a painfully long moment of silence, Maura offered with a wince “It’s Jane.”

Constance withheld a smile, not surprised.  “Oh?  She’s all right, I hope.”

“Other than her hands being sore lately . . . ,” she noted absently, trailing off with a frown.  She glanced back at her mother, who patiently waited for her uneasy daughter to explain.  “I, well . . . I’m worried.”

“Worried, about her hands?” she asked in confusion.

“She has aches from time to time, but no.  I . . . I’m not sure where to begin,” Maura said uneasily. 

“Just start someplace, darling.  I’m sure you’ll fill in the rest as needed,” Constance said with an encouraging smile, sipping her water.

“I almost kissed her today,” Maura blurted uneasily, studying her mother’s face for her reaction.

After a thoughtful moment, Constance asked curiously.  “Why almost?”

That was not the response Maura had expected.

“A store clerk . . . interrupted us,” Maura answered the unanticipated question.

“How unfortunate,” Constance said wryly.

“Mother, Jane didn’t know I was thinking of kissing her,” Maura tried to explain the significance of her dilemma.

“Oh.  Do you really think she would be upset?” Constance asked.

“I . . . maybe . . . she’s never . . . I just . . . I feel like I’m losing her before I even had a chance to explore what I’m feeling with her,” she said, trailing off in a small voice.

“Losing her?  Why ever so?” Constance said with surprise.

“She’s been busy recently when I’ve suggested spending time together.  It feels like she’s avoiding me,” Maura complained helplessly.

“Busy?  Doing what?”

“I don’t know,” Maura blurted with irritation.  “I’ve asked, but she deflects.  She excels at avoiding answering questions she doesn’t want to answer.  But why would she not want to tell me what her plans are?”

Constance frowned with concern.  “Do you suppose . . . she’s seeing someone?” she asked gently.

Maura looked at her with unease.  “She hasn’t mentioned anyone but…” Maura said as her gaze dropped with worry.

Constance wondered if she was truly suited for mother-daughter talks; they were emotionally draining and Maura was taking forever to get to the point. 

“But…?” Constance finally encouraged after a lengthy moment of silence.

“Sgt. Korsak had mentioned Jane needed to be careful around Martha Calderón; he thinks she is attracted to Jane and that they have an emotional attachment.  And I’ve heard Jane refer to Ms. Calderón by her first name, which is unusually informal for her with witnesses,” she said uneasily.

“You don’t think the tabloids were right about them, do you?” Constance asked with alarm.

“No; Jane would never compromise an investigation like that, mother,” Maura firmly responded with unwavering conviction. 

Constance sighed thoughtfully.  “Ms. Calderón’s does have . . . a reputation; if she does have her sights on Jane….” Constance offered uneasily, seeing a fire in her daughter’s eyes.

“Jane wouldn’t,” Maura countered firmly then added weakly “compromise the case.”

Constance nodded.  “But you’re not sure what she will do after the case?”

“I’m not sure about so many things,” Maura blurted with frustration at her chaotic emotions.  “As long as I’ve known her, she’s never dated or indicated an interest in women.  I don’t even know if she is even receptive to the idea of a female lover.”

“And you want that . . . with Jane?” she asked softly.

“A few days ago, I had not seriously entertained that thought about my best friend.  Now?  I can’t seem to think about anything else; it exhilarates and terrifies me.”

“Terrifies you?” she probed gently.

Maura looked at her mother.  “She isn’t just my friend; she’s my best friend.  I’m terrified of jeopardizing the most emotionally intimate relationship I have ever had by seeking a physical dimension that she may not want.  It will change everything….”

“I can see that, whatever her response,” Constance allowed, not helping to sooth Maura’s worries.  “But why would you pursue something more with her?  You already have a physical relationship with someone else,” Constance pressed, searching Maura’s eyes, which dropped as she gazed at her plate.

Maura shook her head.  “Not any more.  I broke it off with Charles.”

“Oh?  Why?” 

“I . . . want more than just a physical relationship.  I want . . . more,” Maura said uncomfortably, finding it incredibly hard to discuss her feelings.

Constance smiled broadly, very pleased.  “I’m glad, Maura.  Good for you.  You should expect more.  You certainly deserve more.  And you think Jane is . . . the one?”

Maura looked at her mother.  “I already love her, mother.  I can’t imagine my future without her.  I don’t want to.  I just don’t know if we should take that step . . . or if she could ever feel more for me than friendship.”

“Well, I believe Jane is a good match for you,” she said with confidence.

Maura looked hopefully at her mother, comforted by her support.  Then she frowned as she considered what seemed like an insurmountable mountain – her fear of changing the status quo with Jane, who could very well push her away. 

“I wish I knew what to do,” Maura bemoaned, glancing down at her plate feeling like she was drowning in emotional chaos, the chaos she had tried to avoid all her life, the chaos she was never good at handling.

Constance eyed her daughter.  “To be able to solve a problem, one must first…?”

“Define it,” Maura automatically answered, looking up curiously. 

“What are your immediate concerns?” Constance asked, smiling encouragingly. 

Maura blinked.  “I . . . want to confirm Jane’s receptiveness to a physical relationship with a woman and whether she is interested in one with Martha Calderón,” Maura answered with a slight wince.

Constance nodded and asked “And after one defines a problem, what must one do to seek a solution?” 

Maura tilted her head thoughtfully. “Do background research, construct a hypothesis, develop a series of experiments to test the hypothesis, analyze the data and draw a conclusion,” Maura answered, her confidence returning as her emotional chaos was slowly finding order.

Constance smiled brightly.  “So, now that we have that all taken care of,” she said with amusement, “are you busy Saturday night?  I have tickets for Ms. Calderón’s final performance in Boston.  I’m anxious to hear what you have been raving about.  But I do hope to avoid any dead bodies,” she said with a wry smile.

“You have tickets?” Maura said with surprise.  “How did you get them?  They’re sold out.”

“Darling, really,” Constance said with mild scolding.  “I have connections.”

“Of course, Mother,” Maura said, rolling her eyes.  “But Jane’s working there that evening and it would be highly inappropriate to . . . gather data for personal reasons that could possibly distract her from the case,” Maura said and got up to clear the dinner table. 

“I am not sure how going to watch Martha Calderón play will interfere with Jane’s work, darling,” Constance said innocently, getting up to help her.

Maura frowned.

“Well, think on it.  Angela and I would love your company,” Constance said as she got up and started to help clear the table.

“Angela?” Maura blurted curiously.  Her eyes narrowed at her mother’s dismissive nod.  Something was going on; and for some reason, which Jane would likely label her gut, she considered that something should worry her.  “Why would you take Angela Rizzoli to the Symphony?”

“I’m surprised you of all people would ask, dear,” Constance said with mild reproof.  “Angela has graciously introduced me to several unique experiences in her world and I thought I’d share some in my world with her.  Surely you can understand the desire to share new things with your friends?”  Constance asked, getting a reluctant nod. 


After Maura retired to her room, Constance opened her cell and dialed as she distanced herself from her daughter’s bedroom. 

“Angela? It’s me, Connie,” Constance said in an anxious whisper, looking back towards Maura’s bedroom. 

“Hey!  How’d it go?” Angela asked eagerly.

“We had our first real heart-to-heart conversation,” Constance gushed, moved by the huge breakthrough.  Her eyes started to water, prompting an awkward hand to wipe them away.

“That’s wonderful!  Soooo, what did she say?” Angela asked enthusiastically.

“Besides breaking it off with Charles, Maura admitted to wanting to kiss Jane today at the boutique,” Constance noted with a grin and added  “And not as a best friend.”

“Really??  Wow,” Angela said with wonder; she was expecting it would take longer to make that much progress. “That is . . . ,” she said happily then frowned, asking pointedly.  “Why the wanting and not the doing?  Did Jane do something stupid?!?” 

“No.  No.  It seems Maura wanted to but was interrupted by the store clerk.  But even without an interruption, I’m not so sure she would have gone through with it - she is still terrified of rejection,” Constance noted, glancing back towards Maura’s bedroom.

“Jane can be dumb sometimes,” Angela offered with a sigh.

“Angela,” Constance countered with a frown.  “It is entirely possible that even if Maura makes her intentions known and we show them our support, Jane will still find it difficult to accept a lifestyle that is not fully accepted and the complications that come with it.”

“Yeah, she can be dumb.”

“Well, so can Maura,” Constance countered, rolling her eyes.

“Please,” Angela scoffed.

“Charles?” Constance provided compelling evidence bluntly.

Angela winced, unable to argue. 

“Anyway, Maura has two concerns – one is Jane’s receptiveness to a woman lover,” Constance noted.

“Which shouldn’t be a problem,” Angela said knowingly.  “My friend Fannie Libowitz?  Her daughter was straight up until her forty-second birthday and bam!  Found a nice woman, settled down, had kids…”

“I . . . would agree that same sex attraction is the more minor concern.”

“What’s the other?”

“She is concerned that what Vince picked up on between Jane and Martha Calderón could be serious.”

“Jane just met the woman.  Really, how serious could it be?” Angela countered, not worried.

“Yes, well, it is never good to assume anything, Angela.”

“Well, even if there is some . . . interest on Jane’s behalf, she won’t do anything about it.  The woman lives in Argentina for God’s sake.  Jane’s never even mentioned wanting to go there.”

Constance was truly fascinated by Angela’s unique logic.


In her bedroom, Maura paced in her silk pajamas, biting her lip as she glanced towards the phone.  Jane did say call her anytime, even if she had plans.   And it was a “mother emergency,” she considered.  With a deep breath, she grabbed the phone and pressed speed dial one.

After several rings, Maura frowned, beginning to worry Jane was too busy with her “plans” to answer her…. 


“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” Maura asked uneasily.

“Nah.  What’s up?  You’re not going to need help burning furniture, are you?” Jane asked with amusement.

Maura shook her head with a small smile, climbing into bed.  “No, but I’ll keep you in mind if I do.”

“Excellent.  I’ll bring the marshmallows.” Jane smiled.

“I had an interesting conversation with my mother tonight,” Maura offered, slipping her legs beneath the covers.

“Was I right or was I right?” Jane asked smugly.

“About?”  Maura asked, placing pillows behind her to make herself more comfortable.

“Mothers and their strange, suffocating, guilt-infusing conversations.”

“Actually . . . I would only consider it unexpected.  Our mothers are going to the Symphony Saturday night . . . together,” Maura explained with a frown.

“Great.  Did you tell them there’s still a murderer running around and possibly targeting the pianist?”

“Not in those exact words but I did mention to mother that you were working and it was inappropriate to distract you.  Perhaps you could talk with Angela and tell her it’s not a good idea.  Then she might be able to influence my mother.”

“That’s assuming I can influence MY mother; if I could, she would have stopped pushing losers my way back in high school.  But I wouldn’t worry too much about their safety, most of Boston PD, including yours truly, will be in the area.”

“Aren’t you worried about a distraction?”

“With my mother, that goes without saying.  But I can’t exactly ban her.  And it’s kind of nice she’s getting out to enjoy herself . . . even if it’s not the most ideal circumstance,” Jane said with a shrug.  “Hey maybe you should chaperone, since you seem concerned about our girls out on the town together,” Jane joked.

“Well I was invited by mother tonight.”

“The tickets are sold out,” Jane countered curiously.

“Mother has connections.”

“Ah.  Gotta love those connections,” Jane chuckled.

“I think I’ll go.  Something tells me they are up to something.”

“What was that?  Was that your GUT talking, Dr. Isles?” Jane teased.

“My intestines do not talk, Jane.  However, my Spidy senses are tingling,” she smirked.

“Very nice.  Tell me, can you climb walls too?” she asked with amusement.

“Only metaphorically,” Maura offered, pleased she had correctly used that reference from the movie Jane had insisted they watch.

“Like when our mothers are together and you are outnumbered?” Jane suggested.

“That would be one case, yes.”

“Well, if you need back up, you’ve got Boston PD’s finest there.  And we’ll all be armed.”

“Good to know, Detective,” Maura said with a chuckled.  “But I truly hope it doesn’t come to that.  But it would make for an interesting tabloid headline “Romeo Rizzoli shoots Mama Montague.”

“You are not allowed to use the word tabloid, or any of its variations, derivations, or permutations in any conversation or communication with me.  Ever again,” Jane countered flatly.  “It’s a four-letter word.”



“So, if we were to play scrabble could I . . . ?”


“Now that’s just being unreasonable, Jane.”

“Actually, playing scrabble with you is an unreasonable scenario.  Now poker?  I can see.”

“But poker is not a word game.”

“Which is one of the many reasons why I so love that game.”

“I see.  You do realize that scrabble and other word games can be very…” Maura offered.

“So what are you planning on wearing Saturday night?” Jane interrupted with a smirk.

Maura rolled her eyes with a small smile.  “I really haven’t decided; I just decided to go only a few moments ago,” Maura offered.

“Well, make sure whatever you wear goes well with my blue dress,” Jane said dryly.

“You are not funny, Jane,” Maura said with pursed lips.

“I amuse myself.”

“I’ve noticed,” Maura said and heard some barking.

“Hey Jo, just a few more minutes,” Jane called out, tucking a thick folder under her arm and trapping the cell phone between her cheek and shoulder as she opened her apartment door with her key.

“Oh, it’s time for Jo’s last walk for the evening?”

“Give or take,” she said, entering her apartment.

“Well I won’t keep you any longer then,” Maura said with some disappointment.

“If you have anymore conspiracy theories, give me a call, OK?” Jane said with a smile.

“I’ll do that.”

“Maura?  I’m really glad you called,” Jane said softly.

Maura smiled warmly.  “I am too.  Good night, Jane.”

“Night, Maura.”


After walking Jo, Jane grabbed her folder from the kitchen counter and retreated into her bedroom for the evening.  Exhausted, she sat on her bed and pulled off her boots tossed them to the floor with dull thuds.  She felt like she had run a marathon, on her hands.  Twice.  Flexing her sore hands, she stared at them a moment then glanced at her folder.

With a heavy sigh, she hauled herself to her feet and took her folder to the closet.  Grabbing a cardboard file box tucked in the back, she pulled it out.  Sitting on the floor, she opened it and returned the contents of her folder to the box.  Both worn and new sheet music was carefully filed in the front and the finger exercise book was returned to the collection of practice books in the back of the box.  With a small smile, she pulled out and glanced through another, more advanced exercise book, recalling Nonna’s insistence on the basics.  Tucked inside was a folded flyer that fell out.  Picking it up, she opened it curiously.  She smiled as memories of the amazing 1989 concert flooded back.

“Thank you sooooooo much, Nonna!” Jane gushed as they left Symphony Hall together and walked on the sidewalk.  “She was sooooo beautiful!”

Maria eyed her granddaughter knowingly and chuckled.  “Did you even hear Martha Calderón’s music, Jane?”

Jane winced, falling uncomfortably silent as an embarrassed blush washed over her.

Maria stopped them with a gentle hand on Jane’s shoulder.  She turned towards her granddaughter, lifting her chin.  “It is all right to appreciate beauty, Jane.  Whatever form it takes.”

“But . . . she’s a woman,” Jane said nervously.

Maria smiled and took Jane’s hand, placing it in the crook of her arm as she continued their walk.  “Indeed she is.  And a beautiful and talented one.”

After several silent moments of walking in companionable silence, Jane admitted quietly “I really like Jenny Whittaker, Nonna.”

“She is a sweet girl,” she offered with a small smile, surprising Jane, who was pleased her grandmother thought so.  “And she likes you, does she not?” Maria looked at her granddaughter expectantly.

“I mean . . . like like,” Jane said awkwardly.


“Y…You’re not going to tell me it’s wrong?” Jane asked with surprise and an enormous amount of hope.  She could see herself actually dating Jenny, unlike the losers, like Joey Grant, her mother tried to shove her way.

“Do you respect her and treat her well, Jane?”  Maria asked, glancing at her granddaughter.

“Yes!” Jane immediately replied.  “I . . . we haven’t done anything.  Besides kiss,” she amended awkwardly. 

It wasn’t because Jenny or she didn’t want to do more than kiss, God knows she wanted to, but they both were afraid.  They already had stupid comments tossed their way because they hung out together at softball and track.  To her amazement, even Jenny was called a dike.  How could someone who was really pretty and liked to wear dresses all the time be a dike, she wondered with a frown.   

“Well, it is good not to rush into something you are not ready for.  When you do share yourself with someone, it is serious.  And they should be very special . . . because you are, my love,” Maria said with conviction, looking intently at Jane, who was riveted by every word.

“Anyone can have sex, Jane, but you should wait until you can make love.  That is God’s gift to us,” she said with great conviction.  “Do you understand, my child?”

“Yes, Nonna,” Jane said and believed.


Chapter 11 – Carpe Diem


Jane sipped her coffee at her desk, looking through several articles she had collected from a search on Martha Calderón and her protégés.  She flipped over page after page as she read through mostly reviews of performances.  Flipping over another page, she turned it back and reread it curiously.  It wasn’t a review.

“Frightening New Year’s Eve Near Tragedy:  Local Celebrants Discharge Firearms Narrowly Missing Upcoming Musical Star, Daniela Alverez,” Jane read the article over again and sat back, staring at the ceiling.   

Two protégés were dead, and she just found one nearly killed, Jane considered with a frown as she pulled out her phone.  Thinking it over, she put her phone back in her pocket and got up, grabbing her blazer off the back of her chair.


Jane knocked on the hotel door glancing up and down the hallway, pretty sure no paparazzi had followed her.

The door opened and a security guard, Daniel, opened it up.  Jane could hear the piano playing.  Pachelbel’s Cannon in D, she recalled with a slight smile.

“Detective Rizzoli to see Ms. Calderón,” she said, holding up her badge and smiling.  He stared at her a moment before sighing and stepping back to allow her in.

“Jane?” Martha looked up from the keyboard with a smile.  “I thought I wouldn’t see you until Saturday night.  But I’m delighted you came by,” she said getting up from the piano bench to greet her guest. 

“Don’t you ever take a brake?” Jane asked, glancing at the piano as she received light kisses on her cheeks.

“If someone can provide an adequate distraction,” Martha said with a smirk, not stepping back from Jane’s personal space.

“I . . . have a few more questions about your protégés,” Jane offered, getting a tired sigh and reluctant nod from the pianist.

“What would you like to know?” Martha said softly, taking Jane’s hand and leading her to the piano bench.


Lidia entered the hotel suite with an arm full of sheet music, hearing the somber and driven strains of Piazzolla’s work, Oblivion. She paused as the familiar mood it provoked washed over her, a longing for what was out of reach.

She glanced to the piano and frowned.

“Yes, yeeees,” Martha said softly, moved.  “Driven, almost possessed, yet gentle . . . wanting.  Crescendo there, yes, yes, as if you can’t contain what is in your heart – it aches for just a chance.  Yes.  Pull back - dolcemente.  As if your vision is suddenly before you . . . tangible.  You desire to touch it, but you are afraid.  Dolcemente.  Yes.  You finally reach out to experience it . . . but it is but air.”

Jane finished the piece and sat silently, feeling terribly emotional and exposed.  It was one of the three pieces she had worked so hard on for the Boston Conservatory tryout.  She recalled how hard she had practiced it, how the music spoke to her then.  In her teens, she had wondered if her longing would ever stop.  In her thirties, she realized sadly it hadn’t…it had grown.

Martha studied her face, knowing the raw emotion Jane shared through her music was borne from experience.  “Don’t let “what ifs” drive you crazy, Jane.  Let them motivate you to grab that brass ring,” she whispered warmly, gently moving an unruly strand of Jane’s hair to behind her ear.

Jane’s gaze dropped uncomfortably as she rubbed her aching hands and offered a weak shrug.  “Carpe Diem . . . and all.”

Martha smiled.  “And all,” she chuckled softly.  “You are very good, Jane.  I would love to work with you,” she said sincerely.

“What’s going on??”  Lidia demanded as she finally found her voice and approached the piano, where Martha and Jane sat closely together on the bench.

“Lidia!  You’re back early,” Martha said with surprise.

“No, I’m not,” Lidia said tersely, noticing Martha’s hand, resting on the Detective’s thigh.

“Oh, dear.  You’re right.  I have completely lost track of time,” Martha said, glancing the clock on the wall.

“Where’s Daniel?” Lidia asked, glancing around.

“On a break.  He should be returning soon,” Martha said dismissively and smiled at Jane.  “Lidia, did you hear our Detective play?!?” she gushed, looking up at her assistant, who looked between the two of them.  “Who knew what treasure the Boston Police Department was hiding!”

“Yeah.  Wrong notes and all,” Jane joked as she got up.  “I’m sure Lidia heard each and every one of them,” she said, glancing at the assistant who was frowning.

“Even with the mistakes, you were good, Detective Rizzoli,” Lidia said begrudgingly.

Martha beamed.  “And she could be extraordinary!  Jane, I don’t make these offers lightly.  I mean it when I said I would like to work with you to develop your playing.”

Jane looked at her, then Lidia, whose mouth dropped.  “I appreciate the offer, Martha.  Really, I do.  But I have my job which I love.”

“What if you take some time off?  Nothing permanent.  A sabbatical.  Surely the City of Boston would allow a bit of time off for their heroic detective,” she said enticingly, looping her arm through Jane’s.

“Heroic?  You should know not to trust the tabloids, Martha,” Jane blurted, scratching behind her neck.

“If detectives can play piano, why can’t pianists do a bit of detective work?  I’ve read up on you,” she said with a pleased smile at her initiative that quickly faded under the guarded look she received from the private Detective.  From her research, she understood why.

“Please,” she said softly.  “Think about it.  I am not asking for you to give up your career, just give me some time with you.  I would love to see what you can do,” Martha said, searching Jane’s eyes.

“It’s tempting,” Jane allowed.

“Don’t let what ifs be all you remember out of life, Jane,” Martha countered sagely before pulling Jane into a sensuous kiss.

Jane froze at first, but was slowly drawn in and kissed her back.

Martha pulled back delighted Jane had actually responded. 

Jane blinked then glanced towards Lidia, who had turned away and walked to the piano with her sheet music.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Jane whispered, clearing her throat still feeling the effects of the kiss.

“No?” Martha said innocently.  “It should have been.  You’re an excellent kisser.”


Jane returned to the precinct and relayed her suspicions regarding Martha Calderón’s protégés to Korsak and the Lieutenant in his office. 

“You did what?!?”  Korsak blurted, eyeing Jane, who winced at his tone. 

Jane glanced to the Lieutenant.  “I have gotten her to agree to mentor me.  To see if we can draw out the killer.”

“Going in alone??  Putting yourself in the line of fire?!?  Of all the stupid and idiotic…!” Korsak spat disgustedly.

“Sergeant Korsak!  Enough,” Cavanaugh snapped.  “I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” he said, making Jane tense. 

“What if Ms. Calderón is the killer?!?” Korsak blurted.

“Oh come on!  She is not the killer!  Why would she risk herself with the stage light?!?” Jane responded angrily.

“How the hell are you so sure?!?” Korsak countered.  “Maybe the explosive accidently…”

“Stop!  Both of you shut the hell up!!” Cavanaugh interrupted angrily, silencing the argument between his valued detectives.

He eyed Jane.  “So can you convince anyone else you are worthy of Martha Calderón’s attention?”

Jane looked at him.  “You sure do know how to make a girl feel good about herself, Lieutenant.”

Cavanaugh sighed wearily.  “You know what I mean, Rizzoli…as a protégé,” he grumbled.

“Martha’s personal assistant, Lidia Argerich, is convinced I’m worthy.  I’m sure she and Martha will let others, like Trejo, know of this…development.”

“You can’t seriously be supporting this,” Korsak looked at Sean, who glared at him.

“Two people linked to the world-renowned classical pianist Martha Calderón are dead in our city, Vince.  We have very little evidence and the Brass want answers! What you and Rizzoli dug up about her past protégés is the best lead we have.  Tell me you have a better idea and I’m all ears!” he snapped in frustration.

Vince frowned, unable to respond.

“Of course, I’m gonna need a sabbatical,” Jane noted with a slight smile, drawing the irritated gazes from both men.


Frost watched as Korsak and Jane returned to the bullpen.  Korsak had a scowl on his face as he sat down, glaring at Jane. 

Jane just shook her head as she sat at her desk.

“What’s wrong with him?” Frost quietly asked Jane.


Frost chuckled.  “Pissed-off Man Syndrome?”

“Something like that,” Jane said tiredly, rubbing her temples.

“Guess what?  DNA samples came back,” Frost said with a grin, getting Jane to look at him with great interest.  “It’s a match.  Anita Riser’s DNA is what was found on Lacy Potter’s body.”

Jane smiled tightly and nodded, unable to feel happy.  She wanted justice for Lacy, and with that evidence, they would finally get it.  But that didn’t erase the fact that the poor girl didn’t have a family, and the people that she lived with treated her poorly, making her run away to the streets and become a prostitute.  Then she was brutally beaten and murdered by someone who was supposed to be one of the good guys.  “When you get the story on that…” Jane said softly, looking at Frost.

“I’ll let you know,” Frost committed, making her nod.

“Any other progress on the Child Protective Services investigation?” She asked.

“The Human Resource Director was relieved of duty, without pay.  He may get jail time out of this.”

“Good.  I hope they throw the book at him,” she said softly.


Jane went down to the café and watched her mother pour a cup of coffee for a patrolman.  Sitting down at a table, Jane continued to watch her smile and chat with the customers.  After a few minutes, Angela glanced over to her with surprise.

“Jane!”  Angela said happily and approached her table.   

“I want to take you to dinner tonight,” Jane said with a small smile.

“Why?”  Angela said suspiciously.

Jane rolled her eyes.  “Because??  When you get off, I’ll be by to pick you up, ok?”

Angela looked at her in confusion.


“You don’t need to spend your money on me, honey.  I’ll cook you dinner at the guest house,” Angela said warmly with a smile, very pleased her daughter wanted to spend time with her.

“I wanted to do something different for a change and take my favorite mother out to dinner,” Jane said with a smirk.

“I’m your only mother!” she countered with amusement then grew thoughtful.  “Well, until you get married, then you’ll have another mother to worry about.”

Jane held her tongue and smiled tightly.


At the end of the day, Jane looked at her watch and got up from her desk and grabbed her blazer.

“Jane!  I’m glad I caught you,” Maura said with a smile as she entered the bullpen.

She turned towards Maura and smiled back.  “What’s up?”

“Are you free tonight?  I wanted to invite you over for dinner and a . . . ,” Maura noticed the wince on Jane’s face.  “You’re busy,” Maura said with disappointment.

“I’m taking Ma out to dinner,” Jane said, putting her blazer on.

“Well, you are both welcome over,” Maura offered hopefully with an easy smile.

“Ah…. thanks, but I actually wanted to talk about some stuff with her,” Jane said uncomfortably.  “And fill her in on some things that will be happening with the Symphony Hall case that will have me tied up for a bit,” she said with a shrug.

Maura looked at her curiously.  “Tied up for a bit?”

“I’m following up on some leads on Martha’s protégés.  But it will take some time away from the precinct,” Jane said and glanced at her watch.  “Look, I gotta run.  But thanks for the invite.  Rain check?”  Jane asked with a hopeful smile.

Maura blinked.  “Rain check.  Sure,” she said and forced a smile, which faded as she watched Jane head out of the bullpen.


“I’ve never been here before,” Angela said with a smile as they sat down in an Indian restaurant.

“I was here once earlier this week,” Jane offered, glancing around, noting a few families dining.  “But didn’t get to finish my meal.”

“Enjoy your meal,” the hostess said with a smile, handing them the menus.

“Thank you,” Angela said, smiling politely at the woman.  As the woman left them, she turned to her daughter with a frown.  “Why didn’t you finish your meal?” She asked with mild concern.

“I found a break in the Potter case.”

“Here?” Angela asked curiously, looking around the room.

“Yeah.  I spotted a very amorous couple, which I recognized.  It was the Foster dad of Lacy Potter and the lead Child Protective Services caseworker.  The homicide case relied heavily on the CPS investigation, which cleared the family of any wrongdoing.  Of course, the case worker failed to mention her adultery with the father,” Jane said distastefully.

“What happened?” Angela asked with interest.

“Turns out the there were several inconsistencies with the CPS’s investigations, including background investigations for those hired by them, including Lacy’s caseworker,” Jane offered.

“God, the children,” Angela blurted with concern, getting Jane to nod.

“It was enough to get a warrant for the DNA of Lacy’s caseworker’s.  It matched what we found on the body.”

“I bet that arrest was satisfying,” Angela said approvingly, shaking her head at the sad situation.

“I wouldn’t know.  After the tabloid article saying I was cheating on Martha Calderón with Maura and Gina, the brass thought it was too sensitive a case to have me working on it,” Jane said with irritation.

“That’s ridiculous!”  Angela said indignantly.

Jane shrugged, but was pleased by her mother’s reaction.  “Maura was kicked off the case too.  I’m glad she’s still talking to me,” Jane said wryly.

“She knows it wasn’t your fault, honey,” Angela offered sympathetically.

Jane frowned, not quite convinced she really wasn’t at fault.

“Ladies,” the waiter said as he arrived at their table.  “What would you like?” he said tiredly.

“Butter chicken,” Jane said, looking at him pointedly. 

He started to shoot a disapproving glare her way but his eyes widened in recognition.  Jane smiled. 

“Oh!  That sounds good.  I’ll have that too,” Angela said with enthusiasm, handing the menu back to the waiter.

“Of course,” he said tightly as Jane smirked.  “Anything to drink?”

“Ice water,” Angela and Jane responded at the same time.  “Jinx,” Angela said with a giggle. 

The waiter shut his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath.  “Very good,” he ground out with a tight smile and retrieved their drinks.  Promptly setting them on the table, he paused an uneasy moment to look at Jane, who smiled pleasantly and nonchalantly leaned back in her chair, which just happened to shift her blazer to reveal her weapon.  He frowned and quickly left them to place the order in the kitchen.

After he left, Angela leaned towards Jane and asked conspiratorially.  “He seems rather uptight, don’t you think?  I wonder what his problem is,” she said curiously, glancing back at the kitchen.

Jane shrugged and sipped her ice water.

“So what’s going on, Jane.  You don’t normally offer to take me to dinner.”

“I know.  You always cook for everyone; I thought it might be a nice change to not have to go to the trouble.”

“But I like to cook,” Angela responded, making Jane sigh.

“Fine, I’ll never take you out to dinner again,” Jane responded with exasperation, rolling her eyes. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Jane.  I’m happy as long as I’m with my family.  I don’t mind cooking for you.  And I don’t mind you spending your money on me for dinner either.  I’m just wondering . . . why?” Angela said, looking around the restaurant then towards her touchy daughter.

“I wanted talk to you,” Jane said.

“We talk all the time,” Angela said, still confused.

“Actually . . . ,” Jane was going to argue that it was always one-sided but sighed.  “Look, I wanted to tell you before you heard about it in another tabloid; I’m going to take a sabbatical from Homicide.”

“A sabbatical?  To do what?!?” Angela said, unsure if she should be happy or alarmed.

“I’m going to be Martha Calderón’s next protégé,” Jane said with a shrug, sipping her water.

“What?!?”  Angela blurted, deciding she should definitely be alarmed.

“Well, not really, but that’s the story.  Kind of funny, isn’t it?” Jane said with a smirk that faded.  “Too bad Nonna isn’t here to see it,” Jane added softly and sipped her water.  “I would have loved to introduce her to Martha,” she said with a smile. 

“I don’t understand…” Angela said looking at her frustrating daughter.

“I can’t go into details, Ma.  But there is a lead involving her protégés that is the reason for the undercover story.  It might be a few weeks, but I know I’m on to something.”

“A few weeks?  With Martha Calderón?” Angela asked uneasily.

“That should set the tabloids on fire, huh?”  Jane joked uncomfortably, knowing it just might set her on fire.

Angela’s mind was racing.  Before she could think of anything to say, the waiter came back with their orders.

“Enjoy,” he said flatly as he placed their plates in front of them.  He smiled tightly and quickly left.

Jane picked up her fork, eyeing her food thoughtfully.  “You know, before the tabloids,” Jane started softly.  “I had to put up with a lot of sh . . . crap,” she amended “ . . . with the rumors,” she said.
“Rumors?” Angela asked curiously.

“About being gay?” Jane said uncomfortably.

“Oh. Well.  I think the term is actually Lesbian, sweetie,” Angela corrected her helpfully, thrilled Jane was talking about this with her.

“Thanks, Ma,” Jane said flatly, glaring at her.

“Don’t mention it.  And for the record, I wouldn’t mind if you were,” she declared softly with a small smile.  “Love is love, right?” she said with a shrug and took a bite of her butter chicken.

Jane looked at her a long, thoughtful moment, then shook her head with a weak chuckle.  “I wasn’t so sure, growing up,” she admitted uneasily.

Angela looked up from her plate curiously, amazed Jane was still sharing with her. 

“I . . . wasn’t sure of what was right and wrong,” Jane continued softly, making Angela want to get up and hug her daughter.  But Angela refrained, knowing Jane was likely to clam up and she really wanted to listen.

“Kids in school were pretty cruel to anyone different and Catholics aren’t exactly known for supporting gay rights,” Jane admitted quietly with a shrug.  “And you . . . you were always pushing boys at me and talking marriage and babies.”

“I just don’t want you to end up alone, Jane.  And women can marry too…and have babies together; it just takes more planning,” Angela offered enthusiastically, taking a bit of butter chicken.

“Yeah.  So, you gonna stop trying to set me up?” Jane asked, surprising Angela, who nodded and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“I guess I know why it didn’t do any good before,” she noted with an amused chuckle.  “No more guys, promise.“

“No more anyone, Ma,” Jane strongly amended with a pointed look.

Angela looked at her and frowned unhappily.  “Jane, I just want you happy!” she said defensively.

“And pink canopy beds, ballet lessons, and the blind dates with the creepy sons of your girlfriends were what you really thought would make me happy?” Jane asked with a laugh.

Angela felt her eyes start to water.  “Was I such a bad mother to want those things for you?”

“Geeze, Ma.  See?  This . . . this is why I can never talk to you,” she said, motioning to her mother’s tears.  “You turn on the waterworks when I tell you things you don’t want to hear,” Jane said with frustration.  Exhaling heavily, she softened her tone.  “I know you love me.  I know you care for me.  I know I’m lucky to have you in my life, Ma.  Believe me.  But it’s just . . . it’s like after all these years, you don’t know me; you don’t seem to care about what I want,” Jane said emphatically.

Angela couldn’t stop the tears, dabbing the napkin to her eyes.  “And . . . what do you want, Jane?” Angela asked, sniffing.

Jane sighed tiredly. 

“I want to hear it.  What do you want?” Angela asked more forcefully.

Jane frowned.  “Fine. I’ll tell you.  I want . . . you to respect that I love being a Homicide Detective and I want you to stop telling me I should find another job.  I’m damn good at what I do and if I get injured or killed in the line of duty, at least I was doing something I love.  How many people can say that?” Jane asked.

Angela’s tears kept coming.  She hated Jane’s job; her daughter had gotten injured too many times in the line of duty.  “What else?” she asked with difficulty, not thrilled with hearing what she knew Jane needed to say . . . and what she needed to hear.

“I want . . . you to stop telling me about all the single people that you think I should date.  I want to be the one who chooses who I date and when.  And I want you to stop telling me I’ve got to date because I’m not getting any younger.  I know I’m not getting any younger, and thanks to your job, the precinct knows I’m not getting any younger, and thanks to Carla Talucci, the whole damn world knows I’m not getting any younger.  And Ma, it’s really not a good idea to talk about anything blowing up at a police station!” she hissed, recalling the embarrassment.

Angela frowned.  How was she to know that rookie assumed she was talking about an actual time bomb instead of Jane’s biological clock?

“And if I’m not dating, it’s not the end of the world,” she lectured emphatically.  “It doesn’t mean I’ve given up on a family and children – it just means I’m not going to waste my time on someone who’s not worth it!” she blurted in frustration, clearly on a roll.  “I don’t have to put up with someone or put out to know they are not right for me!”

“And for the love of GOD, I want to stop hearing about the goddamn health benefits of an active sex life!  I want to be in love with the person I sleep with,” Jane blurted with irritation, making Angela blink.  “Maybe I’m a prude but I want it to mean something.”

“I . . . never suggested you . . . ,” Angela said and trailed off in thought.

Jane froze; her gaze dropped uncomfortably. 

“Oh, honey,” Angela said with sudden understanding and sympathy, recalling Maura lecturing Jane on how beneficial sex was to good health, which her old-fashioned daughter really did not want to hear.  “It was Maura, wasn’t…?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“No! Don’t go there,” Jane hissed in warning.  “Don’t.  Waiter?!?  Check.  Now!” she blurted harshly, waving at the unpleasant man, who clearly saw she was not happy. 

He winced and nodded nervously, promptly going to get the angry police officer her check.

“But Jane, she’s recently…”        

“Ma!  What part of No, don’t go there, don’t you understand?!?” Jane snapped as the waiter came by with the check.  She got up and pulled out her wallet; opening it, she grabbed a few twenties and tossed it on the table, covering the tab with a healthy tip.  She should have never said anything to her mother, she thought with irritation.

“Janie, please,” Angela said, forgetting about her own hurt and wanting to calm Jane, who stormed out of the restaurant.  “Jane!” she growled, chasing after her hardheaded daughter.

“Get in the car,” Jane barked over her shoulder as she marched towards the drivers side, clearly not in the mood to talk to her mother.

“Now who’s not wanting to listen?!?” Angela shouted at her daughter in frustration.

As Jane stepped into the street, both of them heard tires squealing.  Angela watched in horror as a black sedan barreled towards her daughter.

Jane’s head snapped towards the direction of the sound.  Her eyes widened just before she tried to jump up onto and over the hood of the car, something she had seen in a Jackie Chan movie.  But she was no Jackie Chan; her foot didn’t clear the roof of the car and she tumbled over top, falling to the street hard.  

“Janie!”  Angela cried out and rushed to her daughter as other cars screeched to a stop to avoid hitting her.  Angela looked up and saw the black sedan stop.  When she saw the white rear lights come on when the car shifted into reverse, Angela’s protective instincts kicked in; she grabbed her dazed daughter and pulled her with surprising strength between the parked cars as the black sedan reversed direction.   

Jane weakly fumbled for her weapon but her lack of coordination prevented her.  “L…license,” Jane blurted unsteadily.

Slamming on the breaks, unable to finish the job, the driver of the sedan sped off.

“Mrs. R!”  Jane heard someone call out before she blacked out.


Maura and Constance arrived at the hospital soon after they got the call.

“Angela?” Maura called out anxiously when they rushed into the waiting area. 

Angela stood with a haggard look.  “How is she?” Maura asked, giving her a hug and rubbing her back.

“She . . . blacked out,” Angela said numbly.  “The doctor is still with her.”

Constance nodded sympathetically, going to her other side, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“Why would anyone want to run her down like that??” Angela said with confusion.

Maura frowned, unable to answer.

The doctor came out into the waiting area.  “Mrs. Rizzoli?”

“Doctor!  How is she?!?” Angela blurted.

“Your daughter suffered a concussion and minor lacerations on her hands.  We recommend keeping her overnight for observation.  She’s sleeping now.”

Chapter 12 - Loss


Jane paced back and forth outside the auditorium.  Inside, another hopeful was playing their three selections for the judges.

“Janie, you’ll wear a hole in the carpet,” Angela said with amusement at her nervousness.  It was very rare to see her disturbingly confident daughter so anxious, she considered with satisfaction, knowing it would be a long time before she would let Jane forget this day.

“Nonna should be here by now!” she blurted anxiously, glancing at her watch.  “There is only ten minutes before my audition!”

“I’m sure she’ll be here, Jane.  You know Nonna would not miss this for the world,” Angela tried to sooth her upset child, starting to worry if she would be able to calm down enough to play well.  Janie really had worked so hard for this. 

“Something must have happened to her,” Jane said as panic settled in her stomach.  Nonna would never have missed this for any reason, Jane knew in her heart.

“Janie….” Angela said tiredly but saw Frank approach them with a distraught look.


“Nonna!” Jane called out in a panic, startling Maura awake.

“Jane?” she said, quickly scrambling out of her cot and rushing to Jane’s bedside.

“Wha…?” Jane said, looking around the room in confusion.

“Jane, you are in the hospital,” Maura said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder, knowing what Jane needed at the moment - information.  “You were hit by a car and suffered a concussion and minor lacerations on your hands,” she explained.

Jane blinked and looked at her hands, which were wrapped in a lot of gauze, making it almost look like she had two white mittens.  “Minor?”

“Well, that does seem a bit excessive,” Maura acknowledged with a wince.

“Ma?  Is Ma OK?”  Jane said with sudden concern.

“Yes.  Mother took her home to shower and get a few hours sleep before coming to take you home today,” Maura offered.  “She should be here in about an hour.”

Jane nodded slightly.  “Korsak.  Is he investigating the hit and run?”

“I . . . ,” Maura said, uncertain.  “. . . don’t know.  Why would…?”

“Do you have your cell phone?” Jane interrupted anxiously.

“Yes,” Maura said and went to her purse, retrieving it for Jane.  Maura held it out for Jane, who looked at her and raised her bandaged hands. “Dial Korsak for me?”

Maura nodded, intensely curious but doing as requested.  “Hello, Vince?  Jane would like to speak with you.”

“How is she?”

“Confusing,” Maura complained.  “Here’s Jane,” she said and tried to hand Jane the cell but sighed when Jane once again held up her white hands. 

When she placed it against her ear, Jane asked “Vince, any intel on the sedan?  I’m not one for coincidences.”

Maura frowned as her curiosity skyrocketed. 

“Damn it, Jane, I knew something like this would happen,” Vince said with irritation.  “Are you looking to get yourself killed?”

“Korsak, yell at me later, will ya?  I already have a headache,” Jane blurted.

Maura’s frown deepened.

“We’ve run the plates, the car was stolen.  It was found abandoned and the Crime Scene Unit is getting forensics.  Frost is still working on the facial recognition on the driver.”

“Facial recognition?  You’ve got a photo?” Jane asked with hope.

“Oh we’ve got photos; thanks to your paparazzi guy,” Vince said with a smirk.

“He came forward?” Jane asked with surprise.

“Angela would have yelled at his mother if he didn’t,” Korsak said with amusement.

“Ma knows the photographer who’s been hounding me?!?” Jane spat incredulously.

Maura looked at Jane curiously and leaned in to try and hear the conversation.

“Yep.  A son of a friend apparently.”

“Of course he is,” Jane ground out.

“Could be coincidence, Jane,” Korsak offered.

“Uh huh,” she said flatly, clearly not believing that.  “Was the driver male?” Jane asked, pushing her irritation with her mother aside for now to focus on the case.

“Yes.  White male, mid-twenties,” Korsak noted.  “Not Trejo.”

“Huh.  Well, I guess he wouldn’t want his own hands dirty.  Let me know what you get,” Jane said.


“Bye,” Jane said and looked at Maura, whose face was right next to hers.  Jane swallowed, glancing at her lips before looking down uncomfortably.

Maura pulled the phone to her ear as she stood, eyeing Jane.  “Vince?  When I ask Jane what’s going on, I’m not going to like the answer, am I?”  Maura asked.

Jane rolled her eyes.

“I would bet a paycheck you will not be happy,” Vince responded with a satisfied smile.

“I see.  Thank you, Vince,” she said and shut her phone, her gaze boring into Jane, who grew uncomfortable.

“Rizzoli, Jane?” the food service guy came in reading the ticket on the breakfast tray.

“That’s me,” Jane immediately blurted, trying to ignore the pointed look Maura was giving her.

“Here you go.  Breakfast.  Enjoy,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Jane said with an answering smile as the man retreated.  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know,” she said eagerly and scooped a fork-full of scrambled eggs into her mouth as Maura patiently stared at her.

“Bleh!” Jane said as she let the eggs fall back out of her mouth onto the plate.  “God, are they trying to finish me off?” Jane complained then winced at the thoughtless comment and the resulting anger in Maura’s face.

“You deliberately put yourself at risk again, didn’t you?”  Maura blurted tersely, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I just went with my gut and followed a lead, Maura,” Jane said reasonably.

“And going with your guts nearly got them splattered across the pavement.  And do you know the most disturbing thing?  You have no idea how reckless your behavior is!” Maura said heatedly.

“Reckless behavior?” Jane said defensively.  “Reckless behavior??” she repeated incredulously.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about!  Which means your conclusion is just a big fat, stinking guess!” Jane snapped.

Maura sucked in an indignant gasp at that accusation.  Letting out a long calming breath, she eyed Jane in challenge.  “All right, Jane.  Explain to me how your actions are not reckless.  Tell me how whatever you have done to get yourself run over by a car could not be considered reckless,” Maura said in an even tone, though her eyes were narrow with anger.  “I certainly don’t want to be accused of guessing.  Please inform me how my conclusion, based on years of empirical evidence, is erroneous,” she said tersely.

Jane stared at her an uneasy moment.  “Look . . . I didn’t know anything would happen so soon or I wouldn’t have had Ma with me,” Jane tried to explain.

“Ah.  So you expected an attempt on your life later,” Maura clarified, tilting her head.

“Yes.  No.  Maura!  Two of Martha’s protégés have died in suspicious circumstances and one had a near miss.  Martha nearly got killed herself.  I know there’s foul play going on - I had to do something!”

“Do what, exactly?!?” Maura asked in frustration.

“Go under cover as Martha’s new protégé,” Jane said as if it were the most reasonable plan.

“When did this happen?” Maura asked with surprise; that uncomfortable feeling reappeared and settled in her stomach.

“Yesterday.  The Lieutenant approved my plan and time off.”

“You still . . . play?” Maura asked with surprise.

“I . . . played enough to convince her assistant that I had some ability,” Jane offered uncomfortably.  “Martha was the one who really sold it, though,” Jane said dismissively with a shrug.

Maura was surprised by how incredibly hurt she felt; how could Jane hide something like that, something so personal about herself from her long-time best friend . . . yet share it with a woman she had known less than a week?

Jane watched odd emotions wash over Maura’s face.  “Maura?” she asked with concern.

“Jane!” Angela blurted loudly, causing a wince, as she came through the door with Constance.  “How are you feeling?” she asked, walking to her side and kissing her temple.

“Like I want to go home,” Jane said flatly, glancing over at a still quiet Maura.

“Well, let’s get you home then,” Angela said with an uneasy smile as she and Constance noted the tension between their daughters.


Janie sat numbly on an uncomfortable hospital chair, waiting to find out how her Nonna was doing.  She stared at the floor as the police detective explained to her parents what had happened to put her in the hospital.

“Mr. Rizzoli, your mother was in her car at a red light when two masked gunmen decided to carjack her vehicle.  Witnesses say she refused to get out of the car and argued with them,” he said with a frown; too often, people got hurt and killed trying to fight off armed criminals for a material possession they didn’t want to give up, he considered sadly.

“It was just Pop’s old Buick!” her father blurted incredulously, not understanding.

But Jane understood…and felt sick; Nonna was not going to let anything get in the way of her being at the audition….

“When they tried to forcibly remove her, a weapon discharged.  Another man was killed on the scene when he tried to apprehend the gunmen,” the Detective noted, causing her parents to cringe.  “When your mother gets out of surgery and is conscious, I will need to take her statement.  One of the gunmen is still at large,” the Detective said, angering Jane.

“Frank Rizzoli?” The surgeon came towards them.

“I’m Frank Rizzoli,” Frank said with hope in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rizzoli.  Your mother didn’t make it,” he said sympathetically with a heavy sigh, hating his job at times like these.

Jane blinked, finding it hard to breathe.

“Why didn’t she just give up the damn car?” Frank Rizzoli sobbed and Angela held him in a tight embrace, rubbing his back.

Jane had never seen her father cry before.  Even her mother, who never got along very well with Nonna, was crying, holding her father.  Jane was too numb to cry.  And one of the gunmen was still out there, Jane thought as anger welled up.  Standing, she looked pointedly at the officer. 

“What are you doing?”  Jane demanded.

“Excuse me?” the Detective responded, surprised by the teen’s question.  Her brown eyes focused on him with an intensity that was a bit unnerving.

“What are you doing to search for the second gunman?” She asked, expecting an answer.

“Janie, don’t bother Detective Korsak and trust him to do his job,” Angela quietly scolded her daughter, wiping the tears from her cheek.

Jane quietly seethed.  Her mother didn’t understand.  She never understood.

“Here,” Korsak said, handing Jane a business card.  “You call, and I’ll give you updates.  Deal?”

Jane relaxed a bit and nodded.  “Deal,” she said quietly, looking down at the detective’s card.

That evening, Jane lay in her bed staring at the pink canopy above her when her mother came in to check on her.

“Janie?” Angela said tentatively, poking her head in the room.

Jane lethargically rolled her head to look at her.

“How are you doing?” she asked cautiously with a wince as she entered.


She was, if one could call a gaping hole in her heart “fine.”

Angela sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.  “I know you worked really hard with Nonna to prepare for the audition.  Maybe I can see about letting you do it another day?” she said with a bit of hope.

Jane looked at her mother.  “It wasn’t that important,” she said hollowly as tears started to well up.  She sniffed and buried her pain and sorrow back down, allowing her guilt and anger to suffocate it.

Angela frowned. “But…” she said weakly; it had seemed so important before, she considered in confusion.  “Maybe next year?” she tried again.

Jane sluggishly shook her head “no” and stared back at the pink canopy. “Not that important,” she whispered.

A faint knocking roused Jane from her sleep.  She blinked and tried to rub her eyes with her bandaged hands as she woke.  She groaned at the awkwardness, hating the bandages, which Maura had strongly suggested she keep on for a while.  A while had passed, she concluded, growling at her bandages.  She glanced at the clock on her nightstand that read 11:23AM.  She had planned to take a small nap and call Korsak on his progress with the hit and run. 

The knocking persisted, prompting a groan; she still had a headache and the noise wasn’t helping.  Grabbing her robe, she shuffled to the door, feeling incredibly sore.  Peaking through the peephole, she blinked with surprise.  As quickly as her bandaged hands allowed, she unlocked and opened the door.

“Jane!”  Martha cried out and barreled into her with a hug, surprising Jane, who awkwardly hugged her back.  “I went the hospital when I heard this morning but you had already left,” she blurted, then noticed Jane’s wrapped hands.  “Oh my god!” she gasped with worry, her hand going to her mouth.

“Oh.  A bit of overkill by the hospital, probably to make more money; why stop at one Band-Aid when twenty rolls of gauze will do?” Jane joked, but Martha still frowned.

Jane glanced into the hallway to see Daniel standing respectfully behind.  “You want to come in too?” 

He eyed her and shook his head.  “No,” he said briskly.

“Suit yourself,” Jane said, shutting the door in his face, not stopping to analyze why that was so satisfying.

“May I see them?” Martha asked worriedly, focused on Jane’s hands.

“Well I was going to remove the bandages anyway,” she said with a shrug as she headed to the kitchen.

“I can’t believe someone would try to kill you,” Martha said with concern, wrapping her arms around herself.

“This wasn’t the first time,” she admitted with a sigh, finding the scissors.  “Could you?” Jane asked, awkwardly holding them out to her.

“Of course,” she said, taking the scissors.

“So, did you notice any unusual behavior around you since yesterday?” Jane asked.

“Detective Korsak has already interviewed me, Jane,” Martha said with pursed lips as she carefully cut the bandages.

“Well, humor me too, if you don’t mind,” Jane responded.

“Everyone thought I was crazy for offering to mentor a Homicide Detective,” she said bluntly, tenderly unwrapping the bandages.

“I’ll bet.”

“Roberto was most vocal, though he never did like me spending time on anything except my solo career.  But what he never appreciated was that having that mentoring relationship benefited me.  But he is not a pianist and wouldn’t understand.”

“He never wanted you to mentor?” Jane asked pointedly.

“Jane, he is brash, greedy, and rude - but he is not a killer,” she countered with conviction.

“Sounds like a wonderful manager,” Jane said flatly.

“Actually, he is,” Martha offered and inspected Jane’s hands.  “Thank God.  They should heal quickly,” she noted, eyeing the abrasions on the heels of her palm.

“Yeah,” Jane said, flexing her hands.  “Was your desire to mentor frowned upon by any others?” Jane asked, not wanting to press Martha on Trejo any more for now.

“No.  Those who were musicians themselves appreciated that relationship and the priceless benefit to each individual.”

“So Roberto was the only non musician?”

“Well, he played the trumpet in his youth but decided he was best suited to manage musical performers,” Martha offered.

“What does Lidia play?” Jane asked curiously.

“Piano.  Technically, she is extremely proficient but she lacks passion.”

“But can’t a mentor help her with that?” Jane asked curiously.  “You certainly provided that coaching for me with Oblivion.”

“I can feel your heart when you play.  You translate that through your music.  I can only help you tap into what you already have.  I can not create it for you,” she explained.

“So…it must be frustrating for Lidia, to be proficient but to never rise above being your assistant?” Jane asked.

“Jane, you can’t possibly think Lidia . . .?”  Martha said indignantly.

“Everyone is a suspect until I rule them out,” Jane said bluntly.

“Have you ruled me out?” Martha challenged with irritation, surprising Jane.

Jane took in an uneasy breath.  “You know I have.  Or I wouldn’t have told you my theory and recruited you to help.  Something about you makes me . . . trust you,” Jane admitted uncomfortably.

A smile appeared and grew; Martha was warmed by the admission.  “It is mutual, you know.”

Jane returned the smile, her gaze dropping to the pianist’s lips before she let it drop to the floor uncomfortably.  Martha stepped up to Jane and looked into her eyes.

“What makes you so conflicted?” Martha asked softly, her gaze briefly dropping to Jane’s lips, wanting so much to taste and savor them.

“Well, I’m in an active investigation of a homicide and a suspicious death,” Jane responded uncomfortably, feeling drawn in, feeling . . . wanted – a truly heady feeling. 

This was so damn different than what she felt from men.  They wanted a fuck; a physical release with a woman, any attractive woman.  They wanted conquest…and submission.  But Martha wanted her, the damaged Detective who shared a love for piano and the trauma of a difficult recovery from a severe hand injury.  Who would have thought - Martha Calderón, the world famous virtuoso wanted the blue-collar Jane Rizzoli?

Martha sighed, nodding reluctantly.  “You’re right.  It is not a good time,” she said with disappointment.

Jane gravitated towards Martha in spite of their mutual understanding that acting on their attraction was inappropriate.  “No,” she agreed breathlessly. “Not a good time,” she added in a whisper.

Martha slowly leaned towards her like a moth to a flame.  Jane was the brightest flame she had ever come across in her worldly travels. 

“It would be a distraction you don’t need,” Martha whispered as Jane placed her hands on her hips and gently pulled her closer.

“Yeah.  A distraction…” Jane whispered, closing the distance as she gently captured her lips.

Martha’s arms slipped around Jane, pulling their bodies firmly together as the kiss grew more heated.  


“Why are you standing in front of my friend’s door?” Maura politely asked the large man, who stood with his thick arms crossed over his wide chest.  That blazer did not fit well, she noted with a slight frown, which is often the case with muscular men.

He didn’t answer, instead looking her over.  Though checking for potential weapons and assessing the threat, he couldn’t help but appreciate her curvy figure, attractively accentuated in a beautiful dress.  “You are?”

“Dr. Isles.  I’m here to see Detective Rizzoli,” she said with irritation at his behavior.

“I’ll need to pat you down first,” Daniel said with a smirk.

“You shall do no such thing,” she said with irritation, glaring at the stranger.

Daniel grinned, enjoying a challenge, and grabbed her.


A loud thud in the apartment hallway caused Jane and Martha to jump back from their smoldering kiss.  Her protective nature immediately kicking in, Jane motioned for Martha to remain still as she quickly grabbed her gun and went to her door.

Looking through the peephole, she gasped with surprise “Maura??”  She quickly pulled the door open and found the security guard on his knees, groaning as Maura applied pressure on his hand and twisted arm.

“Are you ok?!?” Jane asked Maura worriedly, glaring at Daniel when he yelped “Let me go!”

“What is going on?” Martha blurted, looking at her now-helpless security guard.

Maura looked at Ms. Calderón with surprise and unease, seeing her lean into Jane with a hand at her back.

“He tried to pat me down.  I refused,” Maura said bluntly and let go of the guard.

“What!?!” Jane spat, taking a step towards the guard menacingly, ready to kick his ass.

“Jane, it’s all right.  As you can see, I’m fine,” she said soothingly, holding her hands up to stop Jane from getting in the guard’s face as he stood.

Jane sighed and looked at Maura.  With a smirk, Jane noted with a bit a pride “I guess he didn’t realize you would go Dr. Badass all over him.” 

“I just utilized simple self-defense techniques,” Maura said with a shrug, though feeling inordinately pleased by Jane’s comment.  Her pleasure immediately faded as she noted the smudged lipstick on Jane’s smiling lips, the same color on Ms. Calderón’s.  Her heart sank.

“Daniel, you are done for the day.  Leave,” Martha said tersely.

“But Ms. Calderón….” He complained, rubbing his sore arm.

“Leave.  And we will be discussing this later to determine whether or not you shall remain in my employ,” she said, getting an angry frown from the guard, who shook his head and stormed off.  “I am so sorry, Dr. Isles.  I do hope you can accept my sincerest apologies,” Martha said as Jane protectively guided Maura into the apartment.

“No apologies are necessary, Ms. Calderón,” Maura said evenly.

“Martha, please,” the pianist said warmly.

Maura smiled weakly.  Of course Martha Calderón was pleasant and very . . . nice.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Jane asked, reaching out to Maura’s arm, noting something was off. 

“What happened to your bandages?” Maura asked, displeased as she grabbed her hand to inspect it.

“They were like mittens,” Jane complained, earning a frown.

“I’m afraid I encouraged her to take them off.  I had to see how badly her hands were hurt,” Martha interjected, carefully taking Jane’s other hand in hers.

Maura frowned and noted something she hadn’t before - a large scar on Martha Calderón’s hand.  Something else that the pianist had in common with Jane, she concluded, the ache in her heart growing.

Jane looked uneasily between the two women holding her hands.

“As you both can see, they are not bad,” Jane said, glancing at the minor road rash.  Maura awkwardly released Jane’s hand.

“Thank God,” Martha said sincerely, carefully squeezing the hand she held before releasing it.

“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Maura ventured with a tight smile, looking at Jane, who blushed slightly and weakly shook her head no.

Martha remained silent, studying the two women curiously. 

“Any news on the hit and run?” Jane asked.

“CSU have finger prints from the vehicle that match the partial on the pill bottle.  Barry is helping Vince to find him,” Maura reported with a small smile, knowing Jane would be happy.

“Finally!  A break,” Jane blurted with a big smile.

“So this means . . . Kyle was murdered?” Martha asked uncomfortably, quickly draining Jane’s enthusiasm.  Maura wanted to be annoyed at her but couldn’t be; a close friend of the pianist’s had likely been murdered.

“It’s circumstantial evidence, not hard proof, Martha,” Jane said gently, getting an absent nod.

“May I redress your hands for you?  No mittens, promise,” Maura offered, eyeing Jane’s hands again with concern.

“I’m good.  But thanks,” Jane said self-consciously, looking down at her hands again and flexing them.

“Jane, you need make sure you keep them clean or you could risk infection.”

“I’ll be careful, ok?  I just hate bandages on them…” Jane said uncomfortably.

Maura sighed and nodded.

Martha noted the awkwardness between the two women.  “It’s about time I get back to the hotel.  I have some practicing to do before tomorrow night.  If you and your hands are up to it, Jane, please stop by.  I would love to work on your music.  Tonight or tomorrow,” Martha said breezily, gathering her coat and purse.

Maura eyed Jane curiously; was she seriously working with Jane on her music?  Her heart dropped further; how could Jane not have shared something so important about herself with her? 

Jane froze in panic when Martha stopped in front of her and reached up, placing a palm against her cheek to wipe the smudged lipstick off her lips with her thumb. Noting Jane’s discomfort with the intimate gesture, she awkwardly removed her hand. “Sorry,” she said softly with a wince.

“S’okay.  Probably wasn’t my color,” Jane mumbled, wishing Martha hadn’t done that in front of Maura, wishing she had been stronger to resist the temptation that caused the smudged lipstick in the first place.  She briefly glanced at Maura, whose gaze dropped.

“Well . . . I’m off,” Martha said, gracing the two women with a smile.

“How are you getting back?”  Jane asked.

“There is this marvelous service in Boston.  Perhaps you have heard about them - taxies?” Martha smiled mischievously.  

Maura reluctantly found her comment amusing, which made her more annoyed.  She did not want to like Martha Calderón; yet she begrudgingly did.  And a part of her could not blame Jane for being attracted to the pianist.  It was logical – Martha was attractive, kind, exceptionally talented, and shared the piano with her.  Which to her surprise, wounded her; why had she not known her best friend could still play? 

“You’re not going alone,” Jane said firmly.  “I’ll drive you.”

“Jane, you need to rest,” Martha blurted.

“She’s right,” Maura offered with a firm nod of agreement.  “I’ll drive Ms. Calderón,” Maura said to Jane, who frowned.

“I can take a taxi; I don’t want to inconvenience you any further, Doctor,” Martha quickly said guiltily.

“No taxi!” Jane blurted with irritation.

“I agree with Jane.  And it’s no inconvenience,” Maura said.  “And you really should be cautious of your actions until Jane can solve the two Symphony Hall cases,” Maura offered.

Jane glanced at Maura worriedly.  “But if there’s an attempt on Martha, you both will be …”

“Jane,” Maura interjected.  “I have taken offensive driving courses and have a cell phone,” she offered then challenged with a smirk.  “Are you actually doubting Dr. Badass?” 

Jane chuckled weakly and looked at Maura in resignation.  “Be careful?”

“Of course,” Maura answered confidently and looked at Martha. “I’ll drive you to the hotel,” Maura declared firmly.

“That would be wonderful, thank you, Dr. Isles,” Martha said, getting a nod. 

Chapter 13 - Boundaries


“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a car like this,” Martha said conversationally, buckling her seatbelt.

“It’s a Prius,” Maura informed her.  “A hybrid gas-electric car.  It has very good fuel efficiency as well as low emissions.”

“Ah,” Martha said as Maura pulled away from the curb and into traffic.  She glanced over to the beautiful but tense driver and waited, certain there was much on the good Doctor’s mind.

“I don’t want Jane hurt,” Maura finally said after a long silence.

“Neither do I,” Martha responded sincerely.  “But you think I will hurt her?” Martha asked curiously.

“You two appear to be getting . . . closer.  It is not wise for a detective to become intimately involved with someone who is associated with her ongoing investigation.  Jane is an excellent detective, the best actually, but her actions can be . . . reckless,” Maura stated uncomfortably, stopping at a red light.

“Reckless?  Hmm.  I would say she was actually cautious, Dr. Isles.  If she were reckless, would she not have taken me to her bed by now?” Martha said honestly.

Though relieved Jane had not crossed that line during an investigation, Maura winced with distaste at the thought of Jane being intimate with this woman, who clearly would have welcomed it.  Why wouldn’t she, Maura considered.  Jane was remarkably attractive, intelligent, warm….

“I believe she is exceptionally cautious with her heart,” Martha continued.  “I respect that, regardless of how frustrating it is,” Martha added wryly, watching the emotions on Maura’s face.  “You are a former lover, no?” she guessed curiously.

“N…no.  I’m Jane’s best friend,” Maura countered uncomfortably, accelerating when the light turned green.

“Hmm.  It is very commendable that you worry so much about your best friend.  But you need not worry about my intentions, Doctor, in spite of the exaggerated rumors of my “frequent” affairs.  Jane is special.  If she chooses to open up her heart to me, I assure you, I will treat it for what it is . . . a treasure,” Martha vowed.

Maura felt her heart sink further at the sincere admission.  “Jane deserves no less,” she softly said, truly believing it was a treasure.


“Korsak,” Vince answered his cell.

“Did you find our driver yet?” Jane asked as she paced in her apartment.

“No, but Frost is still looking.”

“Can you email me the pictures?” Jane asked.

“Sure.  Uh, Jane?  Cavanaugh wanted to know if you are still planning to continue with your protégé idea.  We’re both worried about another attempt.”

“Why would I stop now?  It’s clear I’m onto something – it got us our first solid lead!” Jane asked incredulously as she filled Jo’s bowl with food.

Jane!  You might not be so lucky the next time!” Korsak argued heatedly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Jane said curtly and hung up.


“Darling, what’s wrong?” Constance said, noting the distress radiating from Maura as she returned home after work.

Maura shook her head, feeling lost.  She had tried to push out her thoughts of Jane and Martha from her mind as she worked but she was wholly unsuccessful, unable to think of anything else.  Thankfully, she did not have an autopsy to perform.

Her mother guided her to the sofa and sat her down.  “Maura?” Constance tried again.

“Jane’s . . . involved with Martha Calderón,” Maura said weakly, surprised by her physical response to that fact; her heart ached and her stomach twisted painfully.  She had never felt so strongly about someone before - even after Ian left the last time.

“What??  I thought you said she’d never compromise a case….” Constance sputtered with shock.

“I know what I said mother,” Maura said tightly.  “According to Ms. Calderón, Jane is being cautious by not having bedded her yet.  What she is doing isn’t cautious!” Maura blurted with frustration.

“You actually spoke with Martha Calderón about Jane?”  Constance asked with surprise.

Maura looked at her mother uncomfortably.  “Yes.  I drove her to her hotel and mentioned that I didn’t want Jane hurt and that it was not good for a detective to become involved with someone associated with an ongoing investigation,” she said worriedly.

“Slow down, darling.  Why were you driving her to her hotel?  And how do you know they are involved??” Constance said with a confused cringe.

Maura sighed and tried to calm down to explain more clearly.  “I visited Jane during my lunch break and Ms. Calderón was there.  From the lipstick on Jane’s lips, it seemed I had interrupted them,” Maura said with a grimace.  Constance frowned.  “And she . . . .” Maura said and fell silent.

“She what?” Constance said worriedly.

“She’s posing as Martha Calderón’s protégé,” Maura said as tears started to form.

“As part of the case?” Constance asked, gently rubbing Maura’s back.

Maura nodded.  “She played the piano in front of her personal assistant well enough to convince her it was true.  I didn’t know she could still play.  Why did she keep that from me?  Why would she play for Martha Calderón and not me??” Maura said miserably as tears trailed down her cheeks, looking to her mother as if she might have answers.

“Oh Maura, I’m so sorry,” Constance said pulling her daughter into a hug, which was still a bit awkward and foreign to both women.  But after the initial surprise, Maura sought the warmth in her mother’s embrace.  Maura’s tears continued as Constance gently rocked her, tears starting to form in her eyes.  There was sympathy for her daughter, of course, but there was also bittersweet recognition that she was only now learning what it felt like to be needed and to provide comfort to her.

“I wish I had never…” Constance lamented regretfully, then suddenly stopped with a cringe, hoping Maura hadn’t heard her through her sniffs.

“You wish you had never …what, Mother?”  Maura pulled back, wiping the tears from her cheek.

Constance smiled uneasily as her gaze dropped.  “Nothing . . . really,” she said unconvincingly.

“Mother, what did you do??” Maura demanded with growing alarm.

Constance looked at her daughter with a cringe.  “I may have . . . suggested . . . to the DA and Mayor that Detective Rizzoli should return to the Symphony Hall cases or it would appear that they were allowing the Tabloids to have power over them and drive their decisions . . . which the good voters of Boston would likely not appreciate,” Constance said, still convinced it was a valid point; although she would not have made it had she known it would lead Jane into another woman’s arms.

“Mother!  You bribed them??” Maura hissed.

“Of course not!” she said indignantly.  “I just made generous contributions to their political campaigns.”

“Oh my GOD, Mother,” Maura blurted, clearly upset.  “Do you even realize your actions may damage Jane’s career?  What if someone finds out you are bribing them on her behalf?!?  The city could launch an investigation and…”

“Maura!  Calm down.  It wasn’t a bribe, for heaven’s sake.  People influence politicians with money every day, it would be naive to believe otherwise,” Constance countered.

“Did you just call me naive?!?” Maura snapped, standing up and causing Constance to cringe. 

Trying to calm her distressed daughter, who started to pace, Constance offered: “I’m merely pointing out that…”

“I am not naive just because I don’t happen to believe in bribes or throwing money at problems to make them go away!”  Maura spat heatedly.  “You can’t keep doing that!  Haven’t you learned by now that it never ends well?  And now??  Now you are doing it to Jane and she’s with Martha Calderón!  You can’t keep doing that!” Maura shouted and stormed off to her bedroom.

Constance jumped when she heard Maura’s door slam shut.  Never before had she been on the receiving end of so much anger from her child.


Angela opened up her front door, pleasantly surprised to find Constance.  What surprised her more was that the prim and proper woman’s bottom lip started to quiver.

“Maura hates me!” Constance cried miserably.

“Oh honey, she doesn’t hate you,” Angela cooed, putting an arm around Constance and guiding her into the guesthouse.


Jane sat at her kitchen counter, reviewing the pictures Korsak sent as promised.  She had opened them all up in separate windows.  Once again, she snorted with annoyance when she looked over the ones capturing her failed and painful attempt to jump up and over the car.  Wondering how the hell Jackie Chan did it, she sipped her beer and studied the few good shots of the driver’s face.  Silently vowing to get the bastard, she sent the pictures to the printer. 

Her cell phone started to play the funeral march, bringing a smile to Jane’s face as she got up to get her cell phone out of the charger.

“Hey Maura,” Jane said, frowning when she only heard a sniff on the other end of the phone.  “Maura?  Are you all right?”  She asked with concern.

Another sniff, made Jane even more worried.  “Honey, you’re scaring me.  What’s wrong?”

“Sorry.  I . . . I just wanted to hear your voice.  I’ll be ok . . . I’m just . . .emotional,” Maura said in between sniffs.

“Well, we all get that way from time to time,” Jane said, then winced at how lame that sounded.  But she was determined to give Maura what she needed.  “When you said you wanted to hear my voice…you didn’t mean singing did you?  Cause it’s likely to make you even more upset,” Jane said, smiling with satisfaction when she heard the soft chuckle.

“I am sure your singing voice is not that bad, Jane,” Maura said with a small smile, tenderly cradling the phone next to her ear with both hands.

“Not after a few beers,” Jane allowed, walking to her couch and sitting.

“Who would need to drink the beer?” Maura asked, smiling when she heard Jane chuckle.

“Everyone.  But don’t worry; wine is also an acceptable substitute.  Lots of wine,” Jane offered.

“That’s a relief,” Maura said, absently caressing the phone with a finger.  “Jane?” she said hesitantly. 


“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For not singing?”

“Jane,” Maura mildly scolded.  Jane tended to joke her way out of serious conversation.  It was one of her more annoying traits; though she did have to admire her skill at deflection.

“You’re welcome,” Jane offered quietly.  “Uh, are you hungry?  I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I thought . . . you’d be visiting Ms. Calderón tonight,” Maura ventured uncomfortably.

“Uh, I was going to see her tomorrow morning,” Jane said, knowing it wasn’t prudent at the moment to see her.  At night.  Alone.  “But you probably have plans with Dr. Doolittle,” she said reluctantly.

“I . . . no.”  Maura blinked with surprise.  She hadn’t thought of Charles at all since she terminated their relationship.  “I’m no longer seeing him.”

“Really?”  Jane asked, with a pleased smile that quickly faded.  “What did he do?  Do I need to kick his ass?!?” Jane said briskly, immediately concluding he had made Maura upset and emotional.

“Jane!”  Maura said with mild amusement, warmed by her protectiveness.  “There will be no need for ass-kicking.  As you are aware, I am capable of fending for myself.  When used quickly and correctly, pressure points can effectively overcome size and strength disadvantages,” Dr. Badass added with a small smile.

“I have a gun,” Jane offered with a pout.

Maura chuckled.  “You know that’s twice you’ve offered to shoot someone for me.  I’m not sure if I find that comforting or disturbing.”

“Mi firearma your firearma,” Jane declared.

“Then I get to borrow it?” Maura asked.

“No.  If you have the pressure point thingies and the Glock, what’s left for me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be greedy,” Maura smiled. 

“Well, I do have a nice Glock,” Jane allowed graciously.

“Are you really up for company tonight?”  Maura asked, really wanting to see Jane, not just hear her voice.

“If it’s you, always.  If it were Ma…you’d get a different answer.”

“I never thought I would really understand your need for distance away from your mother,” Maura said thoughtfully.  “I’m beginning to.”

“I apologize now for whatever Ma has done…” Jane quickly said with alarm.

“I’m talking about my mother,” Maura clarified.

Jane paused a thoughtful moment at Maura’s significant admission.  “Come over.  I’m reheating leftovers, so I’m not exactly knocking myself out cooking,” she offered and added enticingly “but there will be wine.”

Maura chuckled.  “I’ll be over in an hour.”

“What??  Are you walking or something?”  Jane complained, making Maura smile happily.

“I have a few things to do first.”

“If you must,” Jane lamented, sighing dramatically.

“See you soon,” Maura said with anticipation, her mood dramatically improved.

“Good.  I’ll be waiting,” Jane said and hung up. 


“That’s so sweet,” Angela gushed as Constance dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex.

“I just didn’t think Jane was being treated fairly, Angela.  But to listen to Maura, I was the one who was jeopardizing Jane’s career!” Constance complained.

“For making a political contribution?  Don’t people with money do that all the time to influence politicians??” Angela asked in confusion.

“That’s what I told Maura!” Constance blurted with aggravation, relieved Angela understood.  “But she wouldn’t even listen to me try to explain.”

“Connie, you gotta understand.  Kids overreact when their mother’s try to help them. The more you try, the more they seem to resist.  Probably a law of nature or something,” Angela said with mild amusement.

“I never thought Maura would not appreciate my help….”

“Well, she’s not as hot headed as Janie.  After she has some time to think about it, she may actually thank you for looking out for my daughter,” Angela said, getting a weak smile from Constance.

“I hope so.  But she does have a right to be upset – Jane apparently is taken with Martha Calderón.  She saw lipstick on Jane’s lips.”

Angela frowned and grabbed her phone.

“What are you doing?” Constance said with worry.

“Calling my idiot daughter up!!”

“NO! No, Angela,” Constance said uneasily, placing her hand over Angela’s mid-dial.  “You said yourself Jane doesn’t respond well to the direct approach.”

Angela frowned again.  “But someone’s gotta stop her from being an idiot!”


Maura rushed around her bedroom to quickly change from the dress she wore at work.  She stopped at the full-length mirror, satisfied the cream silk blouse and charcoal pencil skirt outfit was casual enough yet accentuated her curves with the desired elegance. 

While she knew Jane wouldn’t mind her showing up in jeans and a sweatshirt, Maura considered there was no reason not to look her best for her…in the miniscule 30 minutes of freshening up time, taking into account the 20 minute drive to Jane’s and a few minutes of margin to accommodate for worst-case traffic and red lights encountered; she hated to be late.  Glancing to the clock, she groaned, wondering why she hadn’t given herself more time.  She shook her head, knowing very well why; she was so anxious to see Jane, she had a temporary bout of insanity when she committed to arriving in an hour.

Maura quickly went to her vanity and glanced at her hair in the mirror.  After touching it up, she frowned, wanting to do more but having insufficient time.  She grabbed her lipstick, making a face to assist in the application.  Satisfied with the coverage, she placed the lipstick down and debated whether she should wear a fragrance, something she did not indulge in for work.  For Jane, it would need to be subtle, she considered, gazing through the various perfumes she had on the counter.  She selected the small vile of Kai and opened it.  The fragrance of tropical flowers was very pleasant; perfect, she considered approvingly, dabbing some on her fingertip and applying it judiciously behind her ears.  Her gaze dropped to her cleavage a hesitant moment before she gently traced her finger down between her breasts.

“Maura?” Constance called out, knocking on the bedroom door.  “May I come in?”

“I don’t have much time, Mother,” Maura cautioned her as her mother entered and glanced around curiously.

“Going somewhere?” Constance asked, surprised by her primping.

“Yes.  I’m having dinner with Jane and I must leave in 6 minutes,” she said, turning to her mother and going to her closet again, sorting through her sweaters.

“I see….” she said, hoping Maura was not going to get herself hurt.  “Well, have a nice evening, darling,” Constance said, offering awkwardly “You look very lovely.”

Maura glanced at her uncomfortable mother and sighed.  “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Mother.  But I can’t have you risking Jane, however remote you might believe that risk to be.”

Constance smiled slightly.  “I understand and I’m sorry for . . . meddling.  But you must know my intentions were honorable – I wanted to help Jane, not hurt her,” she said emphatically.

“I realize that.  And I also realize part of my anger was caused by my latent resentment for how you used your money to raise me instead of raising me yourself,” Maura admitted and added softly “as if I were simply a problem that could be taken care of by money.”

“Oh my darling, I am so so sorry,” Constance said regretfully, stepping up to her daughter and cupping her cheek.  “As much as I wish I could, I can’t change my past actions.  I can only try to be a better mother now.”

“Thank you for trying,” Maura said sincerely, placing her hand over her mother’s as she glanced at the clock.  Her eyes widened in alarm.  “I’m going to be late!” she blurted.

Constance eyed her daughter rushing around the bedroom with amusement until she noted Maura was packing an overnight bag.  “I take it I shouldn’t wait up for you?” she asked uneasily.

Maura stopped and eyed her curiously.   “You’ve never waited up for me before when I’ve gone out for the evening.”

“True,” Constance allowed and sighed.  “I’m just worried about you, Maura.  Especially after what you told me about Jane and Martha Calderón this evening,” Constance said honestly and cringed.

“I appreciate the concern.  And to be honest, I really don’t know what I expect to happen.  All I know is that the only time when things make sense and I feel . . . like nothing is missing is when I’m with Jane.”

“I understand.  I just don’t want you hurt,” Constance said softly.

“For most of my life, I have been avoiding taking chances and getting emotionally invested in someone,” Maura offered thoughtfully.  “Because when I did, I got hurt.  Now…I realize that if I want more from life, I am going to have to take that chance again and risk getting hurt,” Maura said, looking at her mother with a smile.  “I believe Jane is worth it.”

“It seems we are both learning about ourselves,” Constance offered with a smile.

“It’s about time, don’t you think?” Maura said, stepping to her mother.  With only the slightest hesitation and awkwardness, she hugged her.



Jane looked up from her laptop when she heard the oven ding.  Moving into the kitchen, she grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out the pan of leftover lasagna, taking a good whiff.  “Mmmm,” she said with satisfaction.  While her brothers microwaved all their leftovers because it was faster, she usually found reheating in the oven made them better; her Ma used the oven too.  Placing the pan on the oven top to let it cool down a bit, she pulled out two wine glasses and opened a pretty decent red and poured, thinking Maura might appreciate a ready drink after that troubling phone call.  And if the wine got to breathe, which apparently helped improve the taste, so much the better.

Jane pulled out two salad bowls and grabbed the produce she had, lettuce, tomato, pepper, and onion.  She made quick work of tearing the lettuce and began to slice the tomato, then pepper.  When she got to the onion, she glanced at it a long moment before placing it back in the basket for another time.  She looked back in her refrigerator and spotted a plastic deli container of Kalamata olives and smiled.   Tossing a few in each salad, Jane quickly made a vinaigrette with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, one clove of crushed garlic, ground mustard, and a pinch of salt and pepper.

Glancing around her apartment, she checked to see what else needed to be done.  Hearing a knock, she smiled.  She grabbed one glass of wine and went to the door.  Peeking through the peephole, her smile grew.

“Welcome,” Jane said grandly, opening the door and immediately handing Maura the glass.

“Thank you,” Maura said with a chuckle and took a sip.  “Hmm,” she responded approvingly.

“Come on in,” Jane said with a smile and stepped back, glancing over Maura’s ever fashionable attire as she entered the apartment.  Nice fragrance, she also noted.

Chapter 14 – Not A Date


“Anything I can do to help?” Maura asked, placing her glass on the dining room table that was clearly not set, save for two lonely placemats.

Jane glanced at the table with a frown.  “I don’t suppose you want to eat with your fingers,” she offered dryly.

“Lasagna isn’t a finger food,” Maura countered with a grimace.

“So they say,” Jane scoffed with a smirk and chuckled at Maura’s less than impressed expression.  “How about setting the table while I dish out the grub?”

Maura smiled with a firm nod and retrieved the silverware from the kitchen, which she knew as well as her own.  Jane followed and plated the lasagna. 

“Work?” Maura asked vaguely, glancing at the open laptop on the counter before returning to the dining room table.

“Yeah.  Korsak sent the photos of the driver,” Jane said, grabbing the plates and followed her.

“May I see?” Maura asked, placing the final piece of silverware in its appropriate location.

“Ah, how about dinner first?” Jane said, glancing at the lasagna longingly.

“So you can distract me and avoid showing me the pictures?” Maura challenged.

“Maura, I’m hungry,” Jane whined, motioning to the table, but Maura wouldn’t budge and placed her hands on her hips. 

“Come on, Jane.  Show me,” Maura said firmly.

“Great.  Well, the five minutes you weren’t mad at me were really nice,” Jane grumbled, reluctantly going to her computer and waking it.

When the screen lit up, Maura frowned.  “You really should have password protection when your computer is inactive,” Maura lectured, not seeing Jane roll her eyes; her attention was riveted to the screen.

Jane sighed and turned the laptop towards Maura, who scrolled through the pictures with an increasingly large frown.

“Go ahead.  Say it,” Jane said wearily.

“Say what?” Maura glanced to Jane.

“That I’m reckless and stupid,” she said, motioning to the pictures.

“You are not stupid,” Maura asserted, notably not commenting on being reckless.  She didn’t need to; Jane already knew Maura’s opinion on that.  “And your attempt to avoid injury is commendable,” she added, surprising Jane. 

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like pain,” Jane said, not getting a response from Maura, who stared intently at the picture of the driver’s face.  “Maura?”

Maura looked at Jane with surprise.  “I’ve seen him.”


“At the post-performance gathering when Kyle Gruhoffer’s body was found.”

“Another possible link to his death!” Jane said with excitement, going to her printer and picking up the copies of the pictures.  She stared at them a long moment with a frown.

“You need to talk with Ms. Calderón,” Maura noted, once again surprising Jane.

“Yeah.  I need to see if she knows him,” Jane said with an apologetic wince.

“You should call Korsak and let him know of this development.  I’ll wrap up the food.  Then he can meet us at Ms. Calderón’s hotel.”

“….meet us?” Jane sputtered.

“I know this lead is important and we need to act on it quickly,” Maura said firmly.

“We?” Jane blurted incredulously, motioning between the two of them. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Jane Rizzoli,” Maura declared, her tone brooking no argument.

Jane blinked before, of course, arguing.  “You’re the medical examiner,” she said, pointing to Maura.  “I’m the cop,” she explained, pointing to herself.  “You deal with the victims, I deal with the perpetrators.  You are not going,” she said firmly.

“I am your best friend, Jane.  And you are mine.  And you are on Sabbatical, are you not?” Maura argued.

“What does that have to do with….??” Jane blurted in irritated confusion.

“I’m going with you and that’s final,” Maura said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You complain about me being reckless and when I try not to be, you…” Jane argued.

“Please?”  Maura asked earnestly, interrupting Jane’s righteous indignation.

Jane looked at her an aggravated moment before blurting “GAH!  So not fair!”

Maura smiled brightly at her victory and quickly collected their plates and grabbed aluminum foil that Jane didn’t know she had.

She shook her head in defeat, watching Maura as she dialed.  Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw her steal a taste of the lasagna by swiping her finger on the side of her plate to collect some sauce.

With her finger in her mouth, Maura happened to glance up and find an amused Jane watching her, making her blush.  “Not finger food, huh?” Jane teased with a smirk as Korsak answered.


“Hey, got another lead.  Maura saw the driver at a Symphony Hall reception.  We’re going to see if Martha knows the guy,” Jane said.


Jane rolled her eyes.  “Yes.  Maura has informed me she is not letting me out of her sight.”

Korsak chuckled.

“Shut up,” Jane blurted with annoyance.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jane said tersely.

“No, I didn’t, did I?” Korsak said with amusement.

“Shut up,” Jane said with less annoyance but still felt compelled to object.

“We’ll have patrols in the area and I’m on my way,” Korsak noted then snickered.  “Whipped,” he snorted before hanging up.

Jane looked at Maura, who was placing their plates into the refrigerator, begrudgingly concluding Korsak was right.  Her heart was heavy, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Maura found another guy to fulfill her healthy . . . appetites. 


Jane gave a pointed look to Maura, who stood behind them in the hotel hallway and wearily nodded with a sigh.  Jane glanced at Korsak and nodded, prompting him to knock on Martha Calderón’s hotel room door. 

A bodyguard answered.

“Detectives Rizzoli and Korsak, and Dr. Isles to see Ms. Calderón,” Jane said.  “She’s not expecting us.”

“One moment,” Richard said glancing at Maura uneasily and shut the door.

Jane looked at Maura with amusement.  “It seems your reputation precedes you,” she said proudly, making Maura softly chuckle.  “I’m glad you’re on my team, Dr. Badass.”

“Always,” Maura vowed.

“What am I?  Chopped liver?” Korsak teased dryly.

“Shut up,” Jane said under her breath to Korsak, who quietly chuckled as the door opened.

“Jane?  Dr. Isles?” Martha asked curiously. 


They followed Martha, who went to the Grand Piano.  A Steinway Living Room Grand, Maura concluded, noting the size was just less than six feet.  She truly appreciated the instrument and the craftsmanship it took to make the very best.

As Maura passed Richard, who had sat on the living room sofa and had the sports section spread out on the coffee table, she smiled politely.  He glanced over her curiously, trying to imagine her taking down Daniel.  He could imagine the Detective getting the upper hand, but not the small doctor.  But it’s always the small pretty ones you got to be cautious of, he considered, offering a tight, polite smile for her.

“How are you feeling, Jane?” Martha asked taking Jane’s hand in hers.

“Good,” Jane said, uncomfortably.

Korsak noted Maura staring at their joined hands and frowned slightly.

“Would you like something to drink?” Martha asked her guests, glancing at Maura and Korsak.

“No, thank you,” Maura said politely, relieved when Martha let go of Jane’s hand.  She probably didn’t even realize she had taken it, Maura considered, knowing Jane’s presence engendered trust and security.

Korsak and Jane shook their heads no.

“I want you to take a look at these,” Jane said and pulled out the pictures of the driver from the folder.  She placed them on top of the piano.

Martha looked at Jane a curious moment before gazing at the pictures.  “Why do you have pictures of Emilio?” she asked Jane in confusion.

“You know this man?” Jane asked.

“Of course.  That’s Lidia’s younger brother, Emilio.  Why?”

“He tried to run Jane over last night,” Maura offered tersely.  She slightly winced with embarrassment when she noticed the glare Jane threw at her.

“He would never harm anyone,” Martha said with alarm.  “There must be some mistake.”

“Maybe there is,” Jane allowed, gently placing a hand on Martha’s shoulder.  “But I need to ask him a few questions.  These are pictures of the driver who hit me, Martha.”

Martha shook her head in disbelief. 

“Do you know where he is?” Jane asked softly.

Martha nodded reluctantly.  “Lidia’s room.  Room 545,” she said tensely.

“Thank you,” Jane said softly and looked at Vince, who started to leave.

When Maura started to follow, Jane stopped.  “You stay here,” she said pointedly to Maura, who was about to argue.  “I mean it,” she added with a growl.

“She’s right, Doc,” Korsak offered softly.

Maura frowned with a reluctant nod and watched Jane and Korsak leave for Lidia’s hotel room.

After they left, Maura focused on a stunned Martha, who sat on the edge of the piano bench, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.

“Are you all right?” Maura asked uneasily.

“I just don’t understand,” Martha said helplessly, looking at Maura.

“Well, we will once Jane apprehends Emilio,” Maura said with confidence.

Martha shook her head, still unable to believe the young man could have killed anyone.  There must be some horrible mistake, she considered.

“May I ask you a question?” Maura asked, getting an absent nod from the preoccupied woman.  “How good is Jane?”

Martha looked up at the expectant doctor.  “I told you I don’t know, but would imagine . . . magnificent,” she sighed wistfully.

“I meant with the piano,” Maura said with pursed lips.

“Ah,” Martha responded with mild amusement.  “Why do you care what I think?” She asked curiously.

“You’ve heard her play and I haven’t,” Maura said honestly with a slight frown.

“She has genuine talent and could be exceptional - if she practiced.  But her heart must be in it and I’m not sure it is anymore after the loss of her grandmother.  I hope she finds the passion she once had.”

“Her grandmother?” Maura asked with surprise, having expected it was Jane’s hand injuries that had caused her to stop.

“I think you should ask Jane.  I would not wish to betray any confidences,” Martha said apologetically.

Maura felt another stab at her heart.  Why could Jane open up to this stranger about herself and not her best friend?  “Of course.”


Jane and Korsak stood at Lidia’s hotel room door.  With a glance to Jane, he knocked on the door.

Lidia answered the door.  “What’s going on?  Is Martha all right?”

“She’s fine, Ms. Argerich.  Is Emilio in?” Jane said, glancing behind her with interest.

“He’s out at the moment,” Lidia responded hesitantly, looking between the two.

“Out where?” Korsak asked, also looking behind her.  It wouldn’t be the first time a family member lied for another.

“What is this about, Detective?” she said impatiently.

Emilio whistled as he emerged from the elevator with a grocery bag in one arm and his hotel keycard in hand.  He froze, spotting Jane at his door looking directly at him.  He suddenly dropped the bag and ran for the stairs.

“Call it in!” Jane shouted to Korsak, already in hot pursuit of her hit and run driver.


He jumped down the stairs as quickly as he could.

“Stop!  Police!” Jane shouted.  She really wished perps wouldn’t make a run for it; she really hated chasing people on stairs.

Emilio saw two uniformed officers on the stairwell a few flights below and suddenly reversed direction, choosing what he thought would be the path of least resistance.  He barreled into Jane, who grabbed him and received an elbow to the gut.

“Augh!” she blurted as she pulled him with her to tumble down the stairs.  When they hit the landing, Jane’s face smashed into his back. 


When Emilio struggled to get up, she managed to wrestle him to the ground, gaining the upper hand.  She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him with her knee digging into his back.

“Ow.  Get off me, bitch!”

“You want the pain to stop, huh?  Stop squirming!”  She barked as her nose bled onto her shirt.

“Let me go, Dyke!”

“You are under arrest for the attempted murder of a Homicide Detective.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law.  You have the right to speak to an attorney.  If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.  Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

“No lo entiendo, oficial” Emilio smirked.

“Usted tiene el derecho a permanecer en silencio,” she snarled, finishing the Miranda rights in Spanish. “¿Entiende estos derechos?” Jane asked, hating wise-asses almost as much as murderers.

“Sí,” Emilio said, his smirk wiped from his face.

“Thought so,” Jane said as the Uni’s came up.  “Nice of you to show up.”

“Ah, does it hurt?” Frankie asked with a sympathetic cringe, looking at his sister’s nose as the other officer grabbed Emilio and cuffed him. 

“Could that possibly be the stupidest question you’ve asked me?” Jane snapped, gingerly touching her face, which throbbed.

Frankie winced.  “Sorry.”  He pulled out a handkerchief and offered it with a shrug.

“Eh, me too,” Jane said guiltily and accepted the offering.  “Thanks.  Been a bad couple of days.” She dabbed it against her nose.

“Looks like it has just improved now, right?” Frankie said, nodding towards the criminal, who was hauled to his feet.

“Yeah.  Book ‘em, Rizzoli,” she said, prompting a smile.  “And don’t forget the assault and resisting arrest charges,” Jane said helpfully, making Frankie chuckle. 

“Got it.  I bet he even jaywalked at some point,” Frankie joked.

“Now let’s not go overboard,” she cautioned with amusement.  “I’ll be by the station after I get Maura,” Jane said.  

“Maura?” Frankie eyed her curiously.  “Is there a body?” he asked with a frown, no one mentioned another homicide.

“Noooo.  She’s my ride,” Jane explained tiredly.

“Okaaaaaay,” Frankie said slowly with a smirk.

“Frankie,” she warned.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, holding his hands up innocently.

Jane glared at his smirking face before shaking her head and heading up the stairs to the next floor.


Knocking on Martha’s hotel door, Jane was startled when it opened so quickly.

“Jane!” Maura said with alarm at the bloody nose of her friend.

“I just banged it,” she explained dismissively, still dabbing her nose with the handkerchief as she entered the hotel room.  “Did you even stop to consider that the person on the other side of this door might be a killer?!?” Jane admonished.

Maura tilted her head.  “No.  I did not.”

“You call me reckless!” she complained.  “Come on, I need a ride to the precinct to interview Emilio Argerich.”

“Let me get my purse,” Maura said eagerly, turning to go retrieve it.

“Jane?  Are you all right?” Martha asked softly with a cringe, looking over her face.

“Yeah.  I’ve had worse, trust me,” Jane shrugged. 

“I should talk with Lidia,” Martha said absently, still stunned by the turn in events as well as the blood on Jane’s shirt.

“Martha, you should be careful.  We still don’t know what is really going on and you could still be in danger.”

“I shouldn’t talk with Lidia?” Martha said with worry.

“Just . . . be careful,” Jane said, looking at Maura and signaling she was ready to go with a glance to the door.

Chapter 15 – Progress


“You’re coming with me first,” Maura announced as they entered the precinct’s elevator.

“My nose stopped bleeding,” Jane countered, considering the time for first-aid had passed.  She reached for the button for her floor as the doors shut.

Maura intercepted Jane’s hand as she pressed the button for the basement.  “Yes.  But you should change your shirt and clean up before you interview the suspect,” she said, glancing over the bloodied blouse with a frown.

“Because . . . if I look nicer, he’ll be more likely to give a confession??” Jane asked with confusion.

“No,” Maura said slowly; Jane could be so frustrating sometimes.  “So he can not take any pleasure in the injury he caused you.”

Jane’s gaze dropped, not having expected that.  “Thanks,” she said softly, then looked at Maura curiously.  “You have a . . . ?”

“It’s a cream yoga top but it should go nicely with your blue blazer.”

Jane chuckled.  “I don’t have to even finish my….?”

“Sentences?” Maura interjected with amusement as the doors opened.  “Come on, Detective.  Let’s get you ready,” she said, marching towards her office with purpose.

Jane followed silently, moved by Maura’s thoughtfulness. 

Maura quickly located her gym bag and pulled out the shirt, which she handed to Jane with a smile.

Taking the shirt, which of course was perfectly packed so as to not have any wrinkles, Jane stared at it a thoughtful moment.

“Is something wrong?”

Jane looked up and shook her head no.  “This means a lot,” she said softly.

“It’s just a yoga shirt, Jane,” Maura said with a shrug, though pleased Jane appreciated her gesture.  “Now strip,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye and a brow that lifted in challenge.

Jane blinked, then frowned.  Maura sighed and shook her head at Jane’s modesty and turned around. 


Korsak met Jane and Maura when they arrived at the bullpen.  “He’s got a lawyer.”

“Wow.  That was fast,” Jane said, getting a nod from Vince.  “Well, let’s see what Emilio Argerich has to say.

“Rizzoli!  Not you,” Cavanaugh said gruffly, joining them.

“But sir, it’s my…” Jane blurted with annoyance.

“You were a victim,” he interjected, causing a distasteful grimace on Jane’s face; she was nobody’s victim.  “Korsak, you and Frost.  Understand?” He looked at Vince pointedly.

“Yes sir,” Korsak said with a nod.

“Good.  I want a debriefing as soon as you’re done,” he said and offered, “I’ve got to report to the brass.”  He really despised high-profile cases.

Jane shook her head in disbelief, glancing at Maura when her shoulder was squeezed gently. 

“Let’s go watch,” Maura said softly, getting a reluctant nod.


As Frost and Korsak entered the interview room, Maura and Jane watched, standing behind the one-way mirror in the observation room.

“I am Carlos Fuego, Mr. Argerich’s attorney.  Why have you arrested my client, officer?”  Emilio’s lawyer, who had an Argentinian accent, asked pleasantly as Emilio sat back with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.

“Why did your client run away from two Detectives at his hotel door?” Frost asked, his expression neutral.

“It’s not against the law to run away from strangers.  Or has that changed, officer?” Fuego said with a smile.

“No.  It’s not against the law to run away from strangers.  However, Detective Rizzoli did identify herself as the police.  So why run, Emilio?” Frost asked.

“Well, Emilio is at a disadvantage being Argentinian on United States soil – he doesn’t speak English that well,” Mr. Fuego said with a shrug.

“Would you prefer we conduct this interview in Spanish?” Frost asked with pursed lips, making the lawyer’s eyes light up.

 “Sí.  I am sure we can come back later, when you get a translator,” Fuego said with a pleased smile.

“You won’t need to go anywhere.  I’ll be right back,” Korsak said with a smirk, which made Fuego’s smile fade.  Frost watched curiously as Korsak left.


“Jane, where are you going?” Maura asked as Jane started to leave.

“Él necesita un traductor,” Jane said with a shrug.

Maura blinked with surprise.  “You speak Spanish??”

“Enough to get by,” Jane offered dismissively.

“You still play the piano and you speak Spanish.  What else don’t I know?” Maura asked, sounding hurt.

“Maura, I got back into the piano just recently and the Spanish – it just never came up,” Jane explained.  “I can also speak some Italian because of my Nonna, OK?” Jane offered with some irritation, not understanding what had Maura so upset.

Maura’s eyes widened at another surprise disclosure.  “I thought best friends shared things like that,” Maura said with disappointment.

“Really?  Really?? You can’t be seriously upset at me for THAT?” Jane said with soaring irritation.  “Look, I’m not the one who kept the “love of my life” a secret from her best friend,” she snapped and marched out.

Maura blinked with surprise, taken aback by Jane’s anger.   “J. . . Jane,” she sputtered and followed her out of the interview room.  “I told you why,” she said, stunned that Jane still harbored resentment over that.

Korsak approached Jane with a satisfied smile.  “Cavanaugh agreed.  But only with translating,” he warned.


“Jane, I’m sorry,” Maura said honestly as she joined them, needing to explain.  “I really think we need to talk about this.”

Korsak looked between the two women, immediately feeling uncomfortable.

“Later,” Jane said curtly and looked at Korsak, who wisely kept quiet.  “Showtime,” she said and marched towards the interview room. 

Korsak noted the Doctor’s frown as she watched Jane until she was out of sight.

“Shall we?” he asked softly, politely motioning for her to precede him into the observation room.

Maura nodded with a heavy sigh, hating the feeling when Jane was upset with her.


Jane smiled when she entered the interview room, taking pleasure with Emilio’s scowl.

“Hola gentlmen.  ¿Entiendo que desea un traductor?”  Jane said and sat next to Frost, who stared at Jane a stunned moment before returning his gaze to the men across the table with a smirk.

Fuego glanced at his client with a frown.  “Sí.”

“¿Por qué corres, Emilio?”  Jane asked.

Frost looked over at Jane briefly.

“Mi cliente no tiene nada que decirle. Así que nos diga por qué ha sido detenido,” the lawyer said.

“He says Emilio has nothing to say and questioned why he was arrested,” Jane informed Frost.

“Well, Emilio is wanted for resisting arrest . . . ,” Frost started, getting a belabored sigh from the lawyer. 

“I’m sure this is all an unfortunate misunderstanding,” Fuego smoothly said with a slight smile.  “And there have been cases of racial profiling…,” he added with a shrug.

“Assaulting an officer,” Frost added, glancing at Jane a moment.

“Agredir a un agente,” Jane said, looking at Emilio, who kept his head down and stubbornly stared at the table.

“I’m sure he reacted poorly, but I’m sure he was frightened by being arrested for something he did not do,” the lawyer said.

“. . . and attempted murder,” Frost offered. 

“y tentative de homicidio,” Jane said.

“Based on what evidence?”  Fuego scoffed.

Jane smiled, glancing at Frost, who said “Your client’s fingerprints, all over the vehicle he used to run Detective Rizzoli over.”

“Huellas dactilares del cliente, todo sobre el vehículo que se utilizó para atropellar Detective Rizzoli,” she translated, staring at Emilio.

“Fingerprints can’t place him in the car at that time,” Fuego said dismissively.

“No.  You’re right,” Frost acknowledged with a shrug, making Fuego smile with satisfaction.  “But pictures and witnesses do,” he said, opening up his folder and showing Emilio’s face clearly in the car out front of the Indian restaurant. 

Jane didn’t bother translating and just stared at Emilio.  The pictures spoke for themselves and she knew very well that Emilio spoke English fluently.

“That doesn’t prove intent,” Fuego argued with growing discomfort.  “Perhaps reckless driving.”

“Well, witnesses have testified that after he was unsuccessful in killing Detective Rizzoli, he put the car in reverse and tried to run her over a second time.  Sounds like intent to me,” Frost said, eyeing Emilio, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Now that is troubling, isn’t it?”  Jane offered with feigned concern.

Fuego stared at the picture a moment.

“Oh, and Emilio’s fingerprints were found on Kyle Gruhoffer’s pill bottle.  And Kyle Gruhoffer died of an overdose.  So your client is also wanted for murder,” Jane added with a smile, prompting a surprised glance.


“I can’t prove that,” Maura said with distress.  “The evidence is circumstantial!”

“Doesn’t matter at the moment, Doc,” Korsak said with a small smile, intently watching Jane.

Maura frowned and grumbled “I thought she was limited to only translating.”

Korsak looked at her pointedly.  “You gonna rat Jane out to Cavanaugh?”

Maura looked at him with alarm and shook her head no.

“Neither am I.”


“Then there was your collateral damage, Brian Carter, who was the victim of your incompetence with explosives.  You almost killed Ms. Calderón,” she taunted, closely eyeing Emilio, who faintly winced.
“And what proof do you have for that?” the lawyer was compelled to challenge.

Jane ignored him and continued.  “We’ve also alerted the Argentinian authorities,” she offered, getting Emilio’s attention again.  “They are now reopening the cases for the suspicious circumstances surrounding Francesca Arrau’s apartment fire and her subsequent death in a car crash, and that stray gunshot nearly killing Daniela Alverez,” Jane said in English, watching Emilio squirm as he stared at the table with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to act like it wasn’t a concern.  “Mr. Fuego, were you aware those women were also Martha Calderón’s protégés?  Interesting theme, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at the frowning lawyer.

Frost glanced at Jane and nodded in agreement with a small smile.


“The names are familiar to him…,” Maura said with interest, closely watching Emilio Argerich’s facial expressions.


“My client has nothing to say,” Fuego said tightly, absently adjusting his expensive silk tie.

“That’s all right.  We’ve got the evidence and motive and I’m sure when we bring Lidia in, she’ll talk,” Jane said, getting Emilio’s startled attention.  “After all, Emilio was killing Martha Calderón’s protégés for his sister . . . taking out the competition so she could get a shot at being a protégé herself,” she said, noting his eyes widen in panic.  “You do know Lidia will be charged with accessory to murder, at the very least, don’t you?” Jane asked.

“NO!  She had nothing to do with it!” Emilio blurted vehemently.

“Emilio!” the lawyer blurted, grabbing his client’s forearm firmly and staring at him with a firm shake of his head no.

“So you just decided to kill protégés all on your own?  Because you are a loving, supportive brother?”  Jane asked curiously, noting Emilio’s interest in that theory.

“Emilio, do NOT answer her,” Fuego said with frustration his client was getting too emotional to control.  Emilio frowned.

“Yeah, don’t bother – I wouldn’t buy it.  You are going down, Emilio, and your sister is going down with you,” Jane announced and stood up.

Emilio looked anxiously between his frowning lawyer and the tall detective.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Jane continued.  “A jury will see Lidia for what she is - a calculating woman, trying to get rid of the people in the way of what she desperately wanted - to be the protégé to Martha Calderón.  A woman who got her brother to do her dirty work.  That’s a clear motive that any jury will understand,” she said, looking to Frost she added “we’re done here.”

“Lidia knows nothing!” Emilio cried out as they started to leave, causing Jane and Frost to stop and eye him.

“Emilio!  Say nothing!” Fuego snapped in frustration.

“She had nothing to do with it!  Please,” Emilio said miserably.

Jane looked at Frost briefly before sitting back down.  “All right, Emilio.  So who did?  I don’t believe you would have done this without someone encouraging you.  You cooperate and the court will take that into consideration in your sentencing.”

“Emilio.  I’m advising you not to further incriminate yourself,” Fuego said tersely.

“I have to protect Lidia!  She didn’t do anything,” he argued desperately.

“Whose idea was it, Emilio?” Jane asked.  “Who got you to kill the protégés?”

“For God’s sake, Emilio.  Just shut up!!”

“Roberto Trejo!!  He paid me,” Emilio blurted miserably.  “He paid me to do it all.  Lidia didn’t know.  She didn’t know,” he whimpered as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“The City of Boston will need a signed confession,” Jane noted, glancing at Frost, who pushed a pad and pen towards Lidia’s brother.

The lawyer shook his head with irritation not bothering to object; Emilio was a lost cause.


As two uniformed officers escorted a handcuffed Emilio Argerich out of the interview room, an irritated Carlos Fuego followed behind.

Korsak announced, “I’m going to debrief the Lieutenant” when Maura and he joined Jane and Frost.

Jane nodded, and glanced down the hall, spotting Martha and Lidia walking briskly towards them.  This part was never easy, she considered.

“Emilio!” Lidia called out, spotting her brother.  “Emilio, what is going on?” she cried, hurrying towards him.  The officers threw a questioning look at Jane, who gave them a slight nod, prompting them to give the woman some time with the prisoner.

Emilio’s inability to look her in the eye made Lidia halt and glance expectantly at Detective Rizzoli.

“He has been arrested for two murders, one of Ms. Calderón’s protégés and the stage hand,” she said, prompting a horrified gasp.  “And the attempted murder of another,” Jane added neutrally, knowing there was no way to break this news that wasn’t going to hurt.  “The Argentinian Government is also reopening their investigations on the suspicious circumstances surrounding the auto accident killing another protégé and the apartment fire, then apparent stray gunshot nearly killing another,” she added. 

“No,” she gasped in disbelief, shaking her head.  “No!”  Lidia looked at Martha, horrified.  “Why?!?” She pleaded with her brother, wanting him to deny the heinous acts.

Emilio didn’t answer and shook his head in tearful shame, letting the police take him away.

Martha stepped towards her sobbing assistant and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “It’s not your fault, Lidia,” she said softly, distraught that she was the common link to these atrocities.

Jane walked up to the two.  “I’m afraid it’s not over yet,” Jane said quietly with a somber grimace.  “Emilio was paid to do it.”

Realizing there was more than one man involved in the murders, Martha and Lidia looked at Jane with dread.  “Let’s go to the interview room for some privacy?” Jane said, getting a weary nod. 

“Maura, join us?” Jane asked, surprising her.  She noted Jane’s glance to Lidia then back to her.  Maura nodded and moved to Lidia’s side as they went to the interview room.


They sat at the table; Jane and Martha on one side, Lidia and Maura on the other.  Maura placed a hand on Lidia’s forearm, which seemed to comfort the assistant.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Martha.  Emilio said that he was paid by Roberto Trejo.”

“No!  No.  Emilio is scared.  He is saying that to get a lighter sentence!” Martha quickly argued.

Lidia started to weep again.

“What was his motive, Martha?  Emilio would not have just gone out to target protégés on his own to help out his sister?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Lidia offered emphatically.  “He must have been influenced,” she said, glancing at Maura, who nodded sympathetically.

“And you said Trejo disapproved of the time you spent mentoring others and not on your own music,” Jane reminded Martha, who shook her head no.

“I’ve known him for so long.  I can’t believe he would do that,” Martha said, clearly rejecting that thought as she shook her head.

“Maybe you are right,” Jane allowed, getting Martha’s hopeful glance.  “We only have a signed confession from Emilio, not hard proof Trejo was involved.  But we need to know if Emilio was paid like he said he was.  We will be working with the Argentinian government to see if there is a money trail but international cooperation takes time.  What I need . . . is a confession.”

Maura looked at Jane with concern, having a bad feeling.  Apparently her intestines could talk to her, she considered.

Next Part

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