Not mine, no money, don't sue
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PLAYING WITH EVIDENCE
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"No way." Warrick Brown shook his head emphatically, "He may have the genes but he sure missed out on the skill to go with it" Holding the door open, he let Sara in ahead. "And besides," he continued, not about to let her sacrilegious comments go unchallenged, "Junior was already clearing space in the trophy room for his growing collection. What does the other one have? Squat, that's what."
"Sorry I brought it up." Breezing past him into the break room, Sara made a mental note to never bring up either of the Earnhardt boys again and certainly *never* suggest that Dale, jr. was riding on the name of his late father, Dale Earnhardt, The Man in Black. "All I was saying ...."
Brown cut her off, "Was that if Junior wasn't named after his daddy then he would be eating track debris like Keri. Not a chance. I mean, how many races has the guy even finished?" Sheesh. Dress 'em up, buy 'em books, send 'em to school and *this* was how they turn out. Comparing Keri to Junior. Did this woman ever even watch a race?
"Are you children finished?" Grissom smiled at the two. Arguing over which of the two Earnhardt sons was a better driver? Didn't either of them know that Kyle Petty was called 'The King' for a reason? "Okay, on to business ...."
"Sorry I'm late. Really. Won't happen again. Well at least I'm not the last one here; where's Catherine?" Nick dropped into a free seat at the far end of the table, opposite from Grissom. "Well?"
"Well," He mimicked back, "If you spent less time off doing your own thing and paid more attention you would be aware what was going on around here."
"Hey, you have one of those .... Gimme a sec, it'll come to me." Sara feigned concentration, "Personal something or other."
"Yeah I heard of that. I even had one once a long time ago." Warrick waved it off. "Personal life. It's highly overrated."
Nick smiled, amused. "A couple of clowns. You two escape from the circus?"
"Anyway." the firm voice cut in, indicating that fun-time was over. "Catherine and Brown finished the investigation into the explosion in the lab. The acceleratent was an unidentified liquid sample in a jar. Catherine put it under the fume hood without checking the plate. It was on. She is on suspension for five days."
"No." Nice shook his head.
"Excuse me? No?"
"The hotplate was off."
Nick leaned forward, his eyes meeting that of his boss. "Just after Sanders started in the lab I brought some stuff down. I opened the fume hood, checked the hotplate, put my jar in, and shut it. I went over to log it in and when I looked over there Greg had opened the lid and was checking the hotplate. I, uh, got in his face about it."
{{ With a handful of the lab technician's shirt, Stokes got in his face, "Look, you punk, I don't know about where you come from, but around here we know procedure. You think I don't know to check if the plate is off? Who the hell do you think you are checking up on me?" A shove for emphasis against the wall as he let go showed who the boss was.
The younger man did not back down. "Yeah, I'm sure you know where the 'off' button is. But in case you weren't aware, Mister Investigator, there are a hundred chemicals in here, all volatile, but not one would ignite accidentally. No sparks, no static electricity. No faulty grounds. You want to destroy evidence? Blow the lab. You need to contaminate some samples? Blow the lab. You want to get away with it? Use the hotplate.
He pointed to the plate as he continued, "You see, the only way it could be done is if someone turned the plate on with something under the hood that didn't belong there. Chalk it up to carelessness - gee, I'm so sorry it was an accident, I didn't check it before I stored the samples in there. And no one would be the wiser." Greg shook his head, "Not in my lab."}}
"Did he see Cath put the jar under the hood?" he awaited the affirmative nod from Brown before continuing, "Then he would have checked. Even if she didn't, he would have."
Gil Grissom formed his words carefully. "Do you know what you are saying?"
"....." Nick opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked around the table, into the eyes of his fellow investigators.
"That's right, Nick, that is *exactly* what you are saying.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Okie-dokie, folks, you know the drill; You like? You write - I write. No like? No write? No more.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
PLAYING WITH EVIDENCE
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"No way." Warrick Brown shook his head emphatically, "He may have the genes but he sure missed out on the skill to go with it" Holding the door open, he let Sara in ahead. "And besides," he continued, not about to let her sacrilegious comments go unchallenged, "Junior was already clearing space in the trophy room for his growing collection. What does the other one have? Squat, that's what."
"Sorry I brought it up." Breezing past him into the break room, Sara made a mental note to never bring up either of the Earnhardt boys again and certainly *never* suggest that Dale, jr. was riding on the name of his late father, Dale Earnhardt, The Man in Black. "All I was saying ...."
Brown cut her off, "Was that if Junior wasn't named after his daddy then he would be eating track debris like Keri. Not a chance. I mean, how many races has the guy even finished?" Sheesh. Dress 'em up, buy 'em books, send 'em to school and *this* was how they turn out. Comparing Keri to Junior. Did this woman ever even watch a race?
"Are you children finished?" Grissom smiled at the two. Arguing over which of the two Earnhardt sons was a better driver? Didn't either of them know that Kyle Petty was called 'The King' for a reason? "Okay, on to business ...."
"Sorry I'm late. Really. Won't happen again. Well at least I'm not the last one here; where's Catherine?" Nick dropped into a free seat at the far end of the table, opposite from Grissom. "Well?"
"Well," He mimicked back, "If you spent less time off doing your own thing and paid more attention you would be aware what was going on around here."
"Hey, you have one of those .... Gimme a sec, it'll come to me." Sara feigned concentration, "Personal something or other."
"Yeah I heard of that. I even had one once a long time ago." Warrick waved it off. "Personal life. It's highly overrated."
Nick smiled, amused. "A couple of clowns. You two escape from the circus?"
"Anyway." the firm voice cut in, indicating that fun-time was over. "Catherine and Brown finished the investigation into the explosion in the lab. The acceleratent was an unidentified liquid sample in a jar. Catherine put it under the fume hood without checking the plate. It was on. She is on suspension for five days."
"No." Nice shook his head.
"Excuse me? No?"
"The hotplate was off."
Nick leaned forward, his eyes meeting that of his boss. "Just after Sanders started in the lab I brought some stuff down. I opened the fume hood, checked the hotplate, put my jar in, and shut it. I went over to log it in and when I looked over there Greg had opened the lid and was checking the hotplate. I, uh, got in his face about it."
{{ With a handful of the lab technician's shirt, Stokes got in his face, "Look, you punk, I don't know about where you come from, but around here we know procedure. You think I don't know to check if the plate is off? Who the hell do you think you are checking up on me?" A shove for emphasis against the wall as he let go showed who the boss was.
The younger man did not back down. "Yeah, I'm sure you know where the 'off' button is. But in case you weren't aware, Mister Investigator, there are a hundred chemicals in here, all volatile, but not one would ignite accidentally. No sparks, no static electricity. No faulty grounds. You want to destroy evidence? Blow the lab. You need to contaminate some samples? Blow the lab. You want to get away with it? Use the hotplate.
He pointed to the plate as he continued, "You see, the only way it could be done is if someone turned the plate on with something under the hood that didn't belong there. Chalk it up to carelessness - gee, I'm so sorry it was an accident, I didn't check it before I stored the samples in there. And no one would be the wiser." Greg shook his head, "Not in my lab."}}
"Did he see Cath put the jar under the hood?" he awaited the affirmative nod from Brown before continuing, "Then he would have checked. Even if she didn't, he would have."
Gil Grissom formed his words carefully. "Do you know what you are saying?"
"....." Nick opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked around the table, into the eyes of his fellow investigators.
"That's right, Nick, that is *exactly* what you are saying.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Okie-dokie, folks, you know the drill; You like? You write - I write. No like? No write? No more.