Jane didn’t move. He just smiled, that annoying, knowing grin. “He didn't steal the painting for the money, Lisbon. He stole it because he’s in love with the woman in the frame.”
As they drove away, Jane leaned back and closed his eyes. The case was solved, another small victory in a life defined by the one killer he couldn’t outsmart— Red John . For now, the small wins would have to be enough.
Lisbon sighed, already regretting the interaction. “We don’t even have a suspect yet.” The Mentalist
“She’s at the park,” Jane whispered to Lisbon as they walked back to the car. “Wearing a blue scarf. She’s waiting for him, but she doesn't realize he’s already broken.”
“Lovely tie, Mr. Henderson,” Jane remarked, leaning in close. “Silk? Or a desperate attempt to feel sophisticated while you’re drowning in debt?” Henderson paled. “I—pardon me?” Jane didn’t move
“Jane, get up,” barked, tossing a file onto his chest. “New case. High-end art heist turned messy in Sacramento.”
At the gallery, the owner, a nervous man named Mr. Henderson, was vibrating with anxiety. Jane didn’t look at the empty wall where the masterpiece once hung. Instead, he watched Henderson’s hands. He stole it because he’s in love with
“Oh, we do,” Jane said, finally sitting up and smoothing his vest. “He’s the one who’s currently trying too hard to look busy at the gallery. Let's go. I'm bored, and I think I can trick him into confessing before lunch.” The Gallery Gambit