A/N: Most of this story is based on facts. Therefore, I will not state my sources. Self-protection. And I finally have some time to write again!

Summary: A 'common' murder leads the team into the world of the mafia. Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction. And sometimes, fiction comes pretty close to the truth.

Disclaimer: I do not own the CSI:Miami team.

The Dutch Connection: Teaser

A quiet, peaceful part of the Everglades was rudely interrupted by the sound of a car that didn't belong here. It wasn't fit for this area, this off-road part of this huge swamp. An SUV could've looked like it belonged here, but a town car… that was extraordinary here. Suddenly, the car pulled over and two men, both dressed in a pin-striped, hand-made Italian suit stepped out of it, looking carefully were to walk as to not leave any trace of their 'business' here. The driver opened the trunk of the car and the other man reached inside. It took a few minutes of struggling before the both of them pulled a gagged and bound man from the trunk. Blood had run down the back of his head. The passenger laid two of his fingers on the victim's neck. A few seconds later, he nodded at the driver. The driver smiled in a cruel way and while the passenger took the keys that the driver had left in the lock of the trunk to start the engine of the car again, the driver attempted to throw the victim into the reeds of the swamp. The driver then shooed the passenger away from the driver's seat and took over the steering wheel, ready to drive off. There was only one thing left to do. The passenger took a small cell phone from his inner pocket and dialed a number that every citizen of Miami, every citizen of the United States knew: 9-1-1. Afterwards, he made another call. This time to call in the drop-off. He tossed away the cell phone and jumped into the car. There would be no trace of them at all, except for the tire threads, but that would be taken care of: the car was for them also a disposable item.
The peaceful smell of the swamp slowly was replaced by the stench of decomposition.

Horatio Caine looked at the reeds that caressed the dead man's body. The wind made the reeds bend that way and Horatio knew that, but somehow it still amazed him how sometimes nature seemed to take care of those who had been murdered in a way they didn't deserve.
"I found a cell phone!" the clear voice of one of Horatio's most trusted CSIs, Calleigh Duquesne, sounded. Horatio looked up and around to see her holding a black cell phone. He nodded and took a few large steps, to avoid messing up the crime scene.
"Check for the last calls made" he ordered her to do. Calleigh nodded and after a few times tapping the keys of the phone, she showed him a number that seemed vaguely familiar to him.
"Frank?" He asked the detective.
"Horatio" the detective answered. Horatio showed him the phone number.
"Yeah, that's from some cocaine trafficking guy in Coconut Grove." Answered the detective. "Doesn't surprise me, the vic's a store owner that has been threatened by some drug traffickers before."
Horatio nodded and turned to Alexx. She looked at him.
"Execution-style" she only told him.
Frank Tripp looked at Horatio. "You thinking organized crime?"
"I'm thinking" Horatio paused for a second, a habit that was well on it's way to become a familiar one to the CSIs. "Mafia".