A little something my sleep-starved brain came up with when having an insomnia moment! Just for fun!
Elliot
Mac Taylor ducked under the crime scene tape and glared at the two uniformed officers who were attempting, unsuccessfully, to hide their mirth.
"No! Watch my lips! Not happening!" Don Flack's arms waved in the air punctuating his words. Mac couldn't help but smile as Don glared at a very bemused Danny. "I am not going in there again," he declared adamantly as Mac approached. "It's all yours." And with those words he stalked off declaring he was going to interview someone. Anyone!
Mac grinned at Danny. "Let me guess ..." Mac didn't finish his sentence as Danny held up his hands.
"He's got a point this time Mac. Even I don't want to go in there!" Danny rocked back on heels and pulled a face that made Mac cringe.
"That bad?" he asked. Seeing the expression on Danny's face confirmed it.
"At least eight!" Danny gestured to Mac to go first. Mac sighed and climbed the dozen stairs to the front door that had been propped open.
"On your left!" Danny shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Mac turned and looked at him with an expression that clearly asked if he was coming. "Do I have to?" Danny moaned. Mac favoured him with another glare though he had to suppress a smile at the look on Danny's face. Even the two uniformed cops standing outside were laughing at him.
"Go on Messer. This is a job for the big boys. Don't be such a wuss!" they taunted. Danny sighed and followed Mac into the six-storey brownstone. Mac placed his silver case by the door and pulled on his gloves. Danny came up beside him. Mac placed his hand on the doorknob.
"Ready?" he asked glancing at Danny over his shoulder.
"As I'll ever be."
Mac pushed open the door and they both entered the apartment quickly pushing the door closed behind them. A screeching mass of black shot past them making Danny swear. Involuntarily Mac brought the back of his hand to his nose as he scanned the room. Six pairs of eyes glared right back at him.
"See what I mean?" hissed Danny. Mac nodded grimly. He really could blame Flack for not wanting to be in here. Their victim was seated in her chair next to the fireplace. Mac felt his heart skip a beat. He had a soft spot for little old ladies and this one fitted his description of the perfect grandma. Small delicate features, soft wrinkled cheeks, her face surrounded by feathery curls of grey hair. She looked for all the world as though she were asleep except for the large patch of dark red that stained the right side of her pale blue cardigan. Mac felt sick to his stomach. Seated in her lap a pair of bright blue eyes stared up at him. "Those ones really give me the creeps," muttered Danny. Mac nodded knowing what he meant. There was something about Siamese cats that gave them a sinister air. Mac moved across the room carefully avoiding the large white Persian lying on the rug. As Mac looked down at it he noted a large brown patch on it's fur.
"Someone's been sitting too close to the fire." Mac pointed at the cat.
"Yeah. It's probably too fat to move." As though hearing him the fat white cat lifted his head and fixed Danny with an icy stare. Danny backed away and knocked into a small table. A large ginger tom hissed at him and jumped down and padded across the room and through a doorway. No sooner had he entered than a delicate tabby appeared and made her across to the fire-place and seated herself at the old lady's feet looking up sorrowfully at her mistress.
"Do we have an ID Danny?"
"Yeah, her name is Amelia Lynchwood. According to the neighbour, a Mrs Gray, she's lived here all her life. She got worried when Mrs Lynchwood didn't answer her door. She always calls to ask if Mrs Lynchwood needs anything from the grocery store. When she didn't get an answer she called it in. Those two clowns outside answered. They had to break the back door to get in." Mac nodded and as he knelt down in front of the old lady he felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. He looked closely at the wound then reached out and picked up the Siamese dumping him onto the floor. Danny cringed half expecting Mac to get a face full of claws but the cat didn't seem to mind and wandered off to perch himself on a nearby windowsill. Out of the corner of his eye Danny saw a black and white cat crouched on top of a dresser. who looked to all intents and purposes as though he were about to pounce on him. Danny swallowed and sidled away.
"Okay a single stab wound. From the position and the amount of blood I reckon it probably ruptured the abdominal aorta but Sid will be able to confirm that. Get Don to organise a search for the murder weapon, three block radius. I take it someone has called animal control?" Danny shrugged.
"Er boss!" Mac looked up. Danny was pointing at a sleek white cat with a black patch over one eye that was assiduously washing one paw, seemingly oblivious to the smear of dark red on it's fur. "Is that a bloody hand-print?"
Mac nodded. "Well spotted Danny." Danny allowed himself a smug smile. "See if you can lift a print. I'm going to check out the kitchen." Danny's face fell!
"What?" he attempted to say but no sound came out as Mac made his way to the kitchen attempting to hide his grin. Danny stared in horror at the cat that was sitting in the middle of the floor still licking his paw. Oh crap! However, at that moment the door swung open and Danny let out a sigh of relief. He was saved.
"Hey babe!" Lindsay closed the door behind her. "Oh look at all these kitties! Aren't they lovely?" she cooed. "Hey gorgeous!" Lindsay bent down as the tabby came up and meowed pitifully. Lindsay tickled her behind her ears and the cat purred as she threaded her way back and forth between her legs. "We should get Lucy a cat. She'd love it." Danny stared at his wife like she had taken leave of her senses.
"Er … Mac's wants to know if we can get a print from the white one. I … er ... gotta talk to Flack and get on to animal control. Mac's in the kitchen." Danny made his escape as quickly as possible leaving an astonished Lindsay with the cats.
Elliot peered down at all the comings and goings. He watched with disdain as Lulu wandered up to the woman trying to get her attention. Honestly Lulu would go to anyone. The hussy!
Elliot observed everything from his hideout. He watched Lulu follow the woman into the kitchen where he heard her talking with the man. He didn't understand the words but he liked the man's voice. The rich deep tones rumbled in his chest and made him feel warm. Even Oscar got up and waddled after them but Elliot knew that was only because Oscar was hoping for a snack. Oscar was always hoping for a snack. Elliot flicked his tail back and forth with anticipation as they came back.
Elliot's fur stood on end as a loud knock came at the door and a woman came in with two boxes. There was some discussion for a moment and then Lulu and Oscar were put into the carriers before being taken outside. After a few minutes they did the same to Patch but not before taking several photographs. Next came Nelson who was scooped up from the windowsill followed by Prissy and Nightingale who had been hiding in the kitchen. Getting Arthur into the box turned out to be more of a challenge. The big fat ginger hated being taken to the vets and always made a fuss about going in the carrier. Next it was Walter's turn and he created even more havoc than Arthur. Elliot listened to the screeching and wailing as the two women finally got him into a box and carried him outside. It was much more peaceful once they had gone.
Elliot felt much happier now that it was just him and the man with the kind voice. Elliot watched him move carefully around the apartment. He liked the way he moved, with careful measured steps. He appeared to be investigating almost every item in the apartment only occasionally pausing to examine something. Once when he passed close he could smell him and Elliot quivered with excitement. The man stopped in front of Amelia, his head bowed as though paying his respects. Elliot like how he treated her. Elliot knew the smell of death and he knew that Amelia was gone. He had been frightened before but now this man had come he knew he was going to be all right.
"Okay Mac. That's the last of them. Dorothy's taking them to the lab for us and the guys from the M.E.'s are here if you're done." Lindsay smiled at Mac who was stood staring down at the old lady. "You okay?"
Mac looked up. "Yeah. Yeah I'm fine Lindsay." Lindsay frowned not totally convinced by his words. He seemed different since the shooting that had almost cost him his life. Crime scenes seemed to affect him more than they had before. "I think we have all we need for now. Let's meet back at the lab. I'll see if Flack has anything for us." Lindsay nodded, picked up her case and camera and left with one last look at her boss. He was still looking at the old lady's chair, a troubled expression on his face.
Mac heard the door close. He stripped off his gloves and pushed them into a pocket inside his case. He then did it up and took one last look around. For some reason he couldn't explain he took another look at the bookcase. You could tell a lot about a person from their books. Mrs Lynchwood was obviously a very cultured woman. There were many of the great classics: Pride and Prejudice, Anna Karenina, The Woman in White. There were also books on wild flowers, great cathedrals of the world and early American history as well as books on China, India and Egyptian mythology. Mac put down his case and pulled out a book. He smiled as he flicked through the well worn pages of the Guide for Cat Owners. A rustling above him made him start. Mac put the book back and peered at the top of the bookcase. He turned and pulled a chair from the nearby table and stood on it. Pushing a sewing basket to one side he saw a pair of sea-green eyes stare back at him.
"Well now, what are you doing up there?" Mac reached up. "Come on. You can't stay here. She's not here to look after you any more." Mac gently lifted the dark-furred cat down. "No wonder we didn't spot you hiding up there." The cat blinked at him. Mac looked at the tag around his neck. "Let's see now. Elliot?"
Elliot meowed loudly at hearing his name. And you are?
"Well it's nice to meet you too Elliot. I'm Mac."
"CSI:NY"
Lindsay was just scanning the photograph of the bloody hand-print she had taken from Patch when Mac walked in. She glanced up. "Hi Mac! I was just ..." Her mouth fell open as Mac smiled at her. She turned around to check the row of eight cages each holding a cat. Six were sleeping. The Siamese was still sitting immobile staring at her which even she found rather creepy. And the ginger tom looked like he was still trying to pick the lock on his cage door with his paw. Lindsay turned back to Mac and pointed at the black fur-ball in his arms. "Where..."
"You missed one. This is Elliot."
"Er Mac … we don't have another cage and I haven't got round to processing the others yet," she stammered.
"That's okay. Give Dorothy a call and see if she can bring an extra box over. I'm sure he won't be any trouble." Mac popped the cat onto a nearby stool with an order to be good. Elliot looked him in the eyes and meowed. "It's okay. Lindsay will take good care of you while I'm gone." And with that he left leaving Lindsay staring at the door open-mouthed.
Elliot looked around his new home. Everything was very bright and white with lots of strange boxes with flashing lights. There were a lot of people walking past staring at them. He shivered. He didn't like it here. It smelt funny. He couldn't help himself as a small mewl of fear escaped his lips. He didn't want to stay here. He wanted to go with Mac.
"Oh it's okay Elliot. I won't hurt you." Lindsay tickled him behind his ears. The cat looked up at her sadly and then at the door. He gave another pitiful cry. "Oh are you missing him? He'll be back soon."
"Who'll be back soon?" Sheldon Hawkes looked at Lindsay in disbelief on finding her talking to a cat. "And what's with all the cats?"
Lindsay grinned. "They're from our crime scene this morning. An old lady of seventy-eight was stabbed. These are hers. " Lindsay indicated the cats in the cages behind her. "And Mac found this one hiding after we left. He's just brought him in." Lindsay returned her attention to the cat. "I think he misses him." Elliot meowed loudly. "You do don't you? You're missing Mac?" Again Elliot meowed.
Sheldon chuckled. "Well I be damned. If I didn't know better..."
Lindsay glared at him. "Sheldon!"
"Lindsay. it's just a cat!"
Elliot's fur bristled. He didn't like being spoken to in this tone. He fixed the newcomer with an icy stare, gave him one of his best hisses and turned his back.
"Sheldon! Now look what you've done. You've hurt his feelings."
Sheldon held up his hands in surrender and backed out of the office passing Danny as he did so. He gave Danny a pitying look. "I'm so glad this case is yours."
Danny looked at Sheldon's retreating back. "What's got into him? Whoa!" Danny stared at the layout room. "You brought the cats here?"
"Danny. There may be trace. We need to process them." Lindsay pointed to the Siamese. "Start with that one. He was sitting in the old lady's lap."
"What?" Danny pointed in horror at the creepy looking feline that was sitting bolt upright in its cage. "You want me to … that ..."
Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Danny. It's only a cat."
Elliot looked at the newcomer in disappointment. Oh it was him again. Oh well there was nothing for it. Elliot curled up on his stool, wrapped his tail around himself and settled down to wait. He half closed his eyes, his ears twitching, listening for danger and listening for the man to come back. Elliot wondered where he had gone.
"Hey Sid." Sid Hammerback unclipped his glasses and smiled at his friend. His stomach did a little somersault every time Mac walked in, the memory of the shooting still fresh in his mind. He would never forget the moment that Sheldon had walked in to autopsy to tell him that Mac had been shot. It had been one of the worst moments of his life and then seeing his friend struggle to overcome his injuries had hit Sid hard. He had felt so useless, so powerless to help him.
"Mac how are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm good Sid. What have you got for me?" Although the questions about his health had become a slight source of irritation, Mac ignored them. He knew that they were only concerned about him but he hated being asked all the same.
"Your initial observation was correct. Single stab wound that ruptured the abdominal aorta. She was quite frail. It wouldn't have taken a lot of strength." Sid looked at his friend who was staring down sadly at the body on the slab. Sid shivered uncontrollably as he realized how close he had come to losing his friend. He wondered what Mac was thinking as he stared down at the elderly woman.
"Got any idea about the murder weapon? … Sid?"
"What? … Oh sorry! … er … yes actually. A somewhat unusual murder weapon." Mac raised his eyebrows, his curiosity piqued. "Yes the blade is two edged, has a sharp point and curves out to a leaf shape. The wound tract indicates something like this..." Sid tapped a key on the computer screen sitting on a trolley by the autopsy table.
Mac stared at the picture. "A pugio?" he exclaimed.
Sid grinned feeling very pleased with himself. "Bet you haven't got one of those in that little cupboard of yours!"
For once Mac was dumb-founded because Sid was right. His 'cupboard' as Sid referred to it had been transferred to a sizeable room some time ago and though it contained many exotic weapons, a pugio definitely wasn't one of them.
"CSI:NY"
Don walked by the layout lab and made his way to Mac's office. "There are cats in the lab!" Mac pursed his lips trying desperately to suppress a smile at the outrage in his voice.
"They're evidence Don. What have you got for me?" Mac finished typing his email and, hitting the send key with a flourish, he turned to face him.
Don settled himself into the chair opposite. "Okay, our vic is seventy-eight, widowed. Her husband Arthur Lynchwood died seven years ago. They've lived in that apartment since they married in 1956. But get this, not only does she own that apartment. She owns the whole building. She and her husband lived from the rent of the other properties. At one time they had half a dozen such buildings in Manhattan but they sold the others to property developers over the years and invested the money."
Mac frowned as he took in the new information. "That would make Amelia Lynchwood a very rich woman."
Don nodded with a smug smile. "Yeah to the tune of eight million dollars." Mac's eyebrows shot up. "You wouldn't think it to look at her, would you?" Mac shook his head in amazement as he thought about her small, simply furnished home with it's old wooden furniture and well-stocked book-shelves. Even the kitchen looked as though it had hardly changed since 1956 with the exception of the microwave and the electric kettle.
"Does she have any family?"
Flack shook his head. "Not that I can find. I went through her address book and called a couple of people. They turned out to be old friends. They said the Lynchwoods didn't have any children but they thought that she had mentioned a brother in Baltimore but there's no address in her book. I've got one of my guys checking that now. Also I've put in a request to her solicitor to gain access to her will. Could be motive?"
Mac nodded. "Yeah eight million dollars worth. Did the other tenants know about her wealth?"
Don shook his head as he rubbed at his nose with a back of a finger. "No I don't think so. In fact they didn't seem to know that she even owned the building. They paid their rent through an agency. That's how I found out she was the owner. It seems her husband set it up that way when he discovered he was dying. Easier for her to handle. The agency collects the rent and manages the building, cleaning, maintenance and so forth. Mrs Lynchwood doesn't get involved in the business side of things at all." Don rubbed at his nose again and sneezed. "Damned cats!" he muttered. Mac suppressed another smirk. This had to be the worst case for poor Don and his allergies. "Okay I'm going to see what the solicitor has got to say and see if I can find the brother. I'll keep you in the loop."
"Okay thanks Don!" Don waved a hand as he left. Mac shook his head and smiled to himself as he heard Don sneeze again from half way own the corridor. Mac turned back to his PC and then shot out of his skin as something brushed against his leg. Mac pushed his chair away in alarm. "What the hell...?" Mac looked down at the ball of black fur sitting at his feet. "Elliot!" The cat meowed. "How did you get in here?"
Elliot looked up at Mac. What a dumb question! I walked, of course. How else would I get here? Really humans ask the stupidest questions. Elliot wriggled his bottom, tensed his legs and pounced, landing delicately in Mac's lap. I didn't like it there.
"What's up? You didn't like it there?" Mac fondled the little cat that mewled pitifully in his lap.
Elliot rubbed up against Mac's hand and pressed himself against his stomach. Elliot looked up at Mac in surprise as he felt Mac flinch and rub at his stomach. You're hurt! Elliot felt a sudden urge to protect this man. He couldn't let anything happen to him. He had already lost Amelia.
"You miss her don't you buddy? Oh I wish you could tell me what happened. I bet you saw who killed her didn't you?"
Elliot shivered as he remembered the first man, the man who smelled of smoke and leather. He didn't like him. Suddenly Elliot felt scared and he meowed loudly.
Mac felt the tiny creature quiver in his arms. "It's okay buddy. I know what it's like to be alone." Mac continued to stroke the cat and as he did so he felt the rumble of a purr ripple through the creature's fur. He had forgotten what it felt like and suddenly he recalled his grandmother's cat, and sitting in her kitchen with the kettle singing on the stove and the smell of lemon cookies wafting from the oven … so long ago.
"CSI:NY"
Jo Danville staggered out of the elevator with her purse, her case and a large pile of files. Her meeting with the DA had turned out to be a waste of time as the defendant wanted a plea-bargain. She glanced in through the window of Mac's office as she passed, did a double-take and ground to a halt. She backed up three steps and stared. She blinked. Her over-tired mind must be playing tricks on her. Mac was leaning back in his chair and appeared to be having a conversation with a small black cat totally oblivious to anything going on around him. One the lab techs, a young woman with an enormous mass of curly dark hair named Judy passed. She too looked at Mac and then at Jo, a look of incredulity on her face. Jo couldn't resist. She tapped on the door and went in.
"Mac!"
"Hey Jo. How'd it go?"
"Waste of time. Henriks wants to make a deal for a lighter sentence. He's prepared to name names so I've left it with the DA. What's … er … with the cat?"
Mac looked at her in surprise. "Oh this is Elliot."
Elliot looked at the woman. Clearly Mac was fond of this human. He meowed politely.
"O … kay ... but why have you got a cat in your office?"
Before Mac could answer the door swung open and Danny and Lindsay burst in. "Mac we may have something … wait, how did he get here?" Lindsay looked at Elliot. She could have sworn that two minutes ago he was asleep on the stool in layout.
Elliot stared at her in disbelief. Really! What was it with humans? I walked of course. I like it much better here … with Mac!
"CSI:NY"
"Okay, I've found him!" Don stormed into Mac's office with his notebook in his hand. "His ..." Don ground to halt in the doorway his face a mask of horror. Mac froze, a marker-pen his hand hovering over the glass dry-wipe board where he was collating the information that the team had brought him. Don nodded towards Mac's desk. "C...c...cat!"
Elliot growled deep in his throat. Oh the cat-hater was back! Well I'll show him! Elliot fluffed up his fur and fixed him with his most menacing stare.
"Ah yes … er … Don this is Elliot! Elliot this is Don" Mac leaned closer to the cat perched on top of a pile of files and whispered conspiratorially: "He's kinda allergic to you so don't take it personally."
Elliot meowed disdainfully and turned back to look at the board. Oh well if you say so!
"Hey Don watch what you say! He seems to have taken rather a fancy to Mac," sniggered Danny who was lounging on Mac's sofa. Mac favoured him with a glare.
Quite right too, thought Elliot to himself. Keep them in their place. Let them know who's boss!
"I take it you've found the brother?" Mac asked. Don nodded and edged towards Mac's sofa keeping one eye on the offensive creature.
"Er … yeah … his name's … er … Derek Foreman. He lives in Rhode Island on the outskirts of Providence. He … er … is on his way here to make a formal identification." Don didn't take his eyes off Elliot quite convinced that whatever it was that caused his allergies was making an invisible beeline across the room straight for him. Mac nodded, adding the information to his board.
Elliot watched Mac make marks on the board. He wished he could read.
"When was the last time he saw her?" asked Mac turning back to Don.
"About three months ago. He tries to visit every couple of months or so but has been too busy to get over. Seems she refuses to visit him because she can't leave her cats. He has no idea who would want to do this. I'm going to take him over to the apartment afterwards to see if anything is missing." Mac nodded in agreement.
"Oh and I got a copy of her will. You're gonna love this ..."
"Don't tell me. She leaves everything to the cats," joked Danny.
"Er yeah!"
"What?" Danny turned to Don in amazement.
"Well almost, she's leaving pretty much everything to the Manhattan Refuge for Cats, a … and I quote … a charitable shelter that provides safe haven for the homeless cats of New York and finds them permanent loving homes. On her death they are instructed to take the cats and find them good homes and in return the proceeds from her estate will go into trust fund for the refuge payable as a monthly stipend."
"So the brother wouldn't inherit?" asked Mac thoughtfully.
"Nope, but when I mentioned it to him he didn't seem to hold a grudge. Said that she had been a patron of the charity all her life and that it was natural for her to leave her money to them. Besides he doesn't need it. Seems he's pretty well-off himself."
"Have you spoken to the people from the refuge yet?" Don favoured Mac with a look of incredulity. "I'll take that as a no. Danny, why don't you take Lindsay down there and see what you can find out? I can't imagine that anyone would have a motive to kill the woman who was about to keep the refuge going for the foreseeable future but someone might know something." Danny looked distinctly unhappy but nodded obediently and left. Don, who was now curious got up and approached the board.
"What is that?" he asked pointing at one of the photographs.
"A pugio." Mac looked at Don with an amused expression. "Just when you thought you had seen it all ... Sid thinks that Amelia was stabbed with something like this." Don arched an eyebrow. "It's a leaf-shaped dagger usually carried by Roman soldiers as an auxiliary weapon. Ornate daggers were worn by Roman officials as kind of status symbol. They were often used in assassinations. It is said that Julius Caesar was stabbed to death with them."
Don pulled a face looking impressed. "Et tu Brute?" Mac shrugged. "And you reckon this is our murder weapon? Guess I need to keep a watch out for guys in togas!"
"yeah … carrying a Giant Tangier Fennel!"
"Huh?"
Mac pointed to a photograph of a tall spindly plant with bunches of tiny yellow flowers. " Ferula tingitana, also known as the Giant Tangier Fennel, a tall perennial herb native to the Mediterranean coast. Lindsay found traces of it on Amelia Lychwood's clothing."
"Right. Tanned guys in togas with fancy daggers and giant fennel. Got it!" Mac grinned as Don left chuckling to himself. He turned to Elliot who was sitting bolt upright in his in-tray looking at him intently.
"So what do you reckon?"
Meow. Elliot looked at him apologetically. No idea.
"Me neither, Elliot! Me neither!"
"CSI:NY"
Adam Ross struggled out of the elevator doors even more loaded than Jo had been some two hours earlier. He staggered into Mac's office.
"You okay there Adam?" came Mac's hesitant voice as he stared as what were clearly Adam's hair, arms and legs, the rest of his body being hidden by the two large bags hooked over his arms and the three large boxes piled on top of them.
"Yeah, this guy was just delivering this package for you so I thought I'd bring it up," came Adam's muffled voice. Mac reached out and took the top package from him to reveal a rather red-faced Adam.
"Thanks Adam. What's the rest for?"
"Food and kitty litter for Lindsay. Paper towels for the wash-room and lunch for the team."
"You're doing everyone's shopping for them?"
"Er … well … no … I'm just helping out … you know!" Adam blustered and Mac's face took on a despairing look. Sometimes Adam was just too kind for his own good. "Er … boss! Did you know that there's a cat in your in-box?"
Mac set his parcel down on the edge of his desk and took the next box from Adam. "Adam this is Elliot. Elliot this is Adam. He's about to become your best friend cos he's got food!"
Elliot meowed loudly and promptly jumped down from Mac's desk to sit at his feet. Clearly Mac liked this Adam and he must be okay if he had food.
"Come on Elliot. Lunch time," called Mac as he headed in the direction of the layout room followed by a small black cat and a very bemused Adam.
"CSI:NY"
Desiree Wilson sat in the small window seat looking out at the street. It was quite late for lunch but she liked it this way as the lunch-time crush had left to get back to work. Now there was only her and a couple of business men in the far corner who looked as though they were trying to close a deal over Chicken Kiev and a glass of Chardonnay.
"You all set Desiree?"
"Oh yes honey. That was just delicious. Just my usual coffee please." Desiree smiled up at the young woman as she cleared away her plate. She was glad she had found this place. Great food, great service and a nice atmosphere. She looked up as the bell rang and a man came in. He walked straight over to the bar and perched himself on a stool. Another regular like herself, thought Desiree.
"Hey Mac!"
"Hey Christine!"
Desiree watched as Christine leaned across the bar, cupped his cheek and tenderly kissed his lips. So this was the man in her life! Desiree gave Christine a huge smile as she brought her coffee over and she decided she would have to make this cup last a little longer than usual. She had plenty of time before she picked up her grand-daughter from day-care so she settled in to discretely watch Christine, curious about the cop who made her favourite restaurant owner blush like a school-girl.
"You want Ben to whip you up some pasta? Salmon or chicken?" called Christine as she headed for the kitchen with the dirty dishes. Mac nodded and mouthed the word chicken. After a few seconds she came back, glancing over at her two customers who still looked as though they still hadn't finished the Chicken Kiev and were now doing battle over a spreadsheet. She grabbed a glass and tableware and laid them out in front of Mac. "So how's it going? You got a new case?" She opened a bottle of water and filled his glass.
"Yeah. An old lady of seventy-eight." Mac sighed. "She didn't deserve to end her life like that." Christine sighed as she heard the pain in his voice. She could tell he was finding it harder and harder to handle these cases, especially since the shooting. She reached over and took his hand. She shivered slightly as he wrapped her hand in his, stroking it with his thumb and looked into her eyes as though to draw strength from them.
"You'll get whoever did it."
Mac huffed. "Yeah. Just be sure to let me know if you see anyone walking around with a Giant Tangier Fennel," he joked.
"Ferula tingitana?"
Mac's jaw dropped. "What?"
Christine giggled at the look on his face. "Ferula tingitana. It's thought to be what the Romans called laser or silphium. It was used in Greco-Roman cooking as a rich seasoning, notably in recipes by Apicius. Apparently it was also used for medicinal purposes... " Christine leaned forward putting her head close to his. "...a sort of ancient birth control," she whispered.
Mac was stunned. "How on earth do you know this?"
"Well I have a copy of The Roman Cookery of Apicius in my collection and I saw a demonstration of Roman cookery when I went to one of those re-enactment things that they did, you know, when I went to visit my aunt in Rhode Island." For a moment Mac just stared at her in astonishment then a strange look came over his face.
"Agh!" Even the two businessmen looked up from their spreadsheet at Mac's exclamation. "You are a genius!" Suddenly Mac leaned over and grabbed her face with both hands and planted a firm kiss on her lips. "Genius!" he repeated as he got up and headed straight out of the door, his hand already on his phone. For a moment Christine didn't move, stunned by his sudden departure then Mac stuck his head back in the door. "I gotta run but I'll see you later. I have a surprise for you!" And with that he was gone.
Christine pushed away from the bar to find Desiree, who had eagerly watched the brief fascinating encounter, standing by the cash register with her purse in her hand. The two women exchanged looks of incomprehension. Desiree reached out and patted Christine's hand. "Honey, I was married for thirty-three years and I still don't understand them!"
"CSI:NY"
Don Flack looked down at the text message and screwed up his eyes. He glanced at the elderly man sitting opposite him in the interview room then back down at the message. Don cleared his throat. "Mr Foreman, this might sound like a strange question but … er … have you ever been to a Roman re-enactment?"
"Why yes, of course, I'm President of the New Roman Legionnaires." Don looked at him incredulously, having trouble imagining Derek Foreman in a Legionnaires outfit. Foreman cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, clearly quite proud of his role. "We meet on a regular basis, do charity events, re-enactments for local schools teaching them about the way of life in Ancient Rome."
"Do you … er … have armour? Weapons and such?" asked Don.
"Yes, of course, though I don't get involved in the fighting side of things. I'm getting a little old for that." Derek Foreman unconsciously patted his rather large stomach. "I usually play Caesar or a senator, occasionally Plato and Aristotle, though the were Greek of course! My wife does the culinary side of things, demonstrations. We teach the kids about Roman farming and trade. We get them to try Roman food, try on Roman clothes, play Roman games. And we have a big charity event for the local hospice every year." Don observed him as he spoke. He had trouble imagining the jolly-faced man with the small pug nose and bright blue eyes stabbing his sister to death. In fact he couldn't help wondering if the man ever dressed up as Santa Claus. With a white beard and wig he'd be perfect.
"Do you own a pugio?" Don asked.
"A pugio? No. Why on earth would I..." Derek Foreman broke off and paled visibly as he caught on to the implications of Don's question. "Amelia, was she killed with a …."
"Yes Sir. I'm afraid she was."
"Oh dear Lord." Don saw a look of horror flit across the old man's face. "No."
"Sir, do you know someone who owns a pugio?" Derek Foreman looked up at Don, tears sparkling in his eyes.
"CSI:NY"
"Okay Boss." Danny sauntered into Mac's office to find him standing at his desk cutting open a large cardboard box. "Linds and I talked to every person down at the shelter and no one is looking good for this. They're mostly older women and they all talked about Amelia as being one of their most generous donors. She's been a member of their little group for years although she no longer actually helps out there. Too frail." Danny peered into the box wondering what delicate item he was unwrapping as Mac pulled out reams of bubble-wrap and dumped it the bin at the side of desk. "I'm telling ya' I've never seen anyone look so surprised as they did when they discovered that Amelia was a millionaire and that she had left them all her wealth. One of them almost fainted. I thought I was going to have to call 911."
Danny watched Mac unwrap the item from more bubble-wrap. "Nine Hundred Successful Recipes, by Lulu Thompson Silvernail," read Danny as he looked at the beautifully embossed hard cover book in olive green and gold. "They went a bit over board on the bubble wrap didn't they?"
"It's a first edition, 1923," muttered Mac as he lovingly turned it in his hands. "It's in excellent condition."
"Wow! You're gonna' have to watch it boss. I mean, your … er … girlfriend being a chef and all. You'll be putting on weight." Danny looked at him pointedly as clearly Mac hadn't put on any weight. If anything he had lost some and Danny had noticed how a lot of his food went untouched, Mac seeming to have trouble digesting it. Mac didn't fail to miss the look.
"I'm fine Danny. It's nothing, just one of the side-effects of the surgery. It'll go away." Mac carefully re-wrapped the book and popped it back into the box as Adam came in.
"Boss I got that information you were asking about." Danny and Mac turned to face him. "Derek Foreman's son, Roger Foreman, thirty-three years old. He's a hedge fund manager for a small private investment firm here in New York. He's got big problems! We're talking major credit card debt, huge mortgage ... the company appears to be in trouble too. I … er got his office and home details here."
Mac nodded. "Okay, that's great Adam. Send Don the details. Danny, go with Don and but take back-up ..." Danny arched an eyebrow. "According to Don, Derek Foreman said his son is the one who does the Gladiator re-enactment!"
"CSI:NY"
Don Flack leaned against the wall of the wide, plush corridor and rapped on the smart dark blue door. "Roger Foreman, NYPD, open up!" The sound of scraping furniture came from inside. "NYPD, open the door!" They heard more but fainter sounds from inside. Don had had enough. He nodded to Charlie standing next to him who stepped up to the door and, with one swing from his huge muscles, sent the battering ram into the door just under the lock, splintering the frame and flinging the door open. Charlie stepped back and two officers immediately preceded them into the apartment, splitting right and left guns held high. Don followed them with Danny hot on his heels.
"Sir?" One of the officers called from the kitchen. Don stuck his head in. Next to an over-flowing ashtray, a razor-blade, a small plastic bag and traces of white powder lay on the kitchen counter.
"Oh great!" muttered Don glancing at Danny. "That's all we need, a wannabe gladiator high on coke!"
"Detective Flack!" Both men turned round and headed for the bedroom where the first officer to enter the apartment was leaning out of the window. "Fire escape. He's headed west." Don grabbed his radio as he leaned out of the window. "All units. Suspect headed west down east 73rd, Caucasian, 6'2'', well built, wearing leather pants and boots …" Don squinted. "...with a Roman Legion tattoo in the centre of his back." Don turned round. "At least he shouldn't be too difficult to spot." Don looked around to discover he was talking to himself. Danny had already taken off. "Messer!"
"CSI:NY"
Jo wandered into Mac's office just as he was putting on his jacket. "You're leaving. Good boy!" Mac arched an eyebrow and favoured Jo with a scathing look. "You make me sound like one of Lindsay's cats."
Jo chuckled and glanced over at the layout lab where Lindsay and Dorothy were get the cats ready for transport to the cat refuge. "You know I think she's sorry to see them go. I heard her trying to persuade Danny to adopt one for Lucy. I got the impression the answer was no. But then he wasn't in too good a mood after chasing your suspect half way across Central Park."
Mac laughed. "Yeah, I don't think Danny was too impressed with the Latin battle cries."
Jo's face suddenly took on a worried look. "He didn't actually fight him did he?"
Mac smirked. "Nah. He tasered him and stuck him in a body bag. Had to hospitalize him until he'd come down from his high." Jo grimaced as she watched Mac grab a couple of folders and stick them on top of the box. He turned to look at sadly. "Can you believe he killed his aunt in a fit of anger because she wouldn't give him any of her money to help pay off his debts and, no doubt, fund his habit?"
Jo sighed. "The things people do for money. Well you caught him and I'm guessing you have more than enough evidence to put him away."
Mac nodded. "Yeah, even without a confession, we have the murder weapon found in his closet, clothes with Amelia's blood on them in the trash two blocks from his apartment and a packet of dried Ferula tingitana he'd got at the African Market for his mother." Mac picked up the box.
"Come on then. You don't want to be late." Jo nodded at the box. "I take it that's Christine's surprise?" Mac nodded as he followed her out of his office towards the elevators. "Isn't it about time you … surprised her with something else?" Jo smiled cheekily as she dropped Mac a hint.
"Jo!"
"I know … I know … you want to take it slow." Mac frowned at her as the doors opened and they stepped into the elevator. Jo hit the button. "But you two are giving a whole new meaning to the phrase snail's pace." Mac rolled his eyes. "When?"
Mac feigned ignorance. "When what?" It was Jo's turn to roll her eyes and sigh in despair. The elevator dinged as they reached the lobby and Jo stepped out.
"Just ask her Mac!"
"Ask her what?" Mac put on his best innocent look and hit the button for the parking garage. Just as the doors closed, he thought he heard Jo exclaim.
"I give up!" Mac grinned and thought about the extra item he had slipped into the box before he had left.
"CSI:NY"
Adam swivelled around in his chair as Lindsay came in shaking a box that rattled. "Elliot?" she called softly in a sing-song voice as she shook the box again. "Come on I have a treat for you." Adam looked around in confusion as Lindsay bent down and checked under the desk. "I know you're around here somewhere. Come on, it's time to go. Elliot?"
"Er … he's not here Linds. I'd think I would have noticed!"
"Are you kidding?" Lindsay straightened up and put one hand on her hip. "That little black furball has all the attributes of a Cheshire cat. One minute he's there and the next he's gone."
"Don't worry Linds. I'll help you look unless ..." Adam thought for a moment.
"Unless what?"
"Well … maybe Mac took him home with him."
"Adam! Don't be ridiculous! Why on earth would Mac want a cat?"
"I think it's more like the cat wants Mac." Danny's laughter rang across the room as he swaggered in. He looked at their faces. "Oh come on! Elliot definitely has a thing for Mac. I mean did you see them earlier? First of all we got the boss talking to a cat! But I swear that cat understood every word Mac was saying to him and was actually talking back to him."
"Now that is ridiculous Danny and you know it." Sheldon favoured with Danny with one of his condescending looks as he leaned against the door to the AV lab. "Cats don't have the brain capacity for understanding complex speech. They hear sounds and associate them with actions like 'food' and being fed. They may be able to pick up on human emotion so they can detect whether a person is happy or angry but it doesn't go beyond that."
"Nah, I dunno Sheldon. You didn't see them. I swear that cat was trying to tell Mac something." Danny wasn't convinced.
"Look this is getting us anywhere." Lindsay stamped a foot in frustration. "That cat has to be here somewhere so quit talking and get looking!" The three men exchanged glances and set about their task.
"CSI:NY"
Mac was just towelling his hair dry when he heard his front door open and a voice call his name. He threw the towel on top of the wash basket and pulled on a soft blue sweater. He wandered through to the front room. Christine was just hanging up her coat and kicking off her shoes. Her face broke into a huge smile as she saw him. Suddenly Mac's whole day got a lot better as he lost himself in that smile.
Christine's eyes flicked around the room and settled on the box in the centre of the table next to a bottle of wine and two elegant crystal wine glasses. "So what's this surprise?"
Mac's lips twitched a little as he nodded towards the box. "Why don't you open it and see?" Mac moved across to stand beside her as she reached over and opened the box.
"Oh! He's gorgeous!"
Mac's mouth fell open as he stared at the box unable to believe his eyes.
"What a handsome boy!"
Elliot opened his eyes surprised to find himself being lifted out of the box where he had been happily snoozing. He blinked slowly at the woman who was now cradling him in her arms.
"Elliot!" Mac stammered in astonishment unable to come to terms with the fact that the cat he had carefully, and somewhat reluctantly, handed over to Lindsay barely an hour earlier was now in his apartment.
"Oh Mac! He's adorable! Oh thank you!"
Elliot looked up at the woman kissing Mac. Ah a mate! And clearly one with excellent taste. Gorgeous! Handsome! Adorable! Elliot wriggled out of her arms and hopped onto the table to look around.
Christine broke away from the kiss leaving Mac a little breathless. "You are the most wonderful man," she breathed. "Thank you. How did you know that I've always wanted a cat?" Mac opened his mouth and then closed it again unable to find an answer though clearly Christine wasn't expecting one. She looked at him from under her eyelashes. "Is this your way of suggesting we move in together?" she asked shyly.
For some strange reason Mac felt the urge to laugh. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. As he did so he reached into the carton and pulled out a small blue velvet box. Flipping open the lid, he smiled shyly at her. "No this is my way of asking you to marry me!"
Elliot hopped onto the back of the couch and looked back at Mac and Christine. So this was home! Very nice! Yes very nice indeed!
The End