Mentalist - The

Lisbon watched as Jane played his usual game of mental misdirection . Within ten minutes, Henderson was sobbing, admitting he’d let a "mystery woman" spend the night in the gallery.

“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 The Mentalist

“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?” Lisbon watched as Jane played his usual game

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’s the one who’s currently trying too hard