-DISCLAIMER - Not mine.

A/N - Second story, and hugs to anyone from the reviews in that last one. Please enjoy….. Oh, warning, this is a chapter that I'm not all that pleased with. Just can't figure out what I don't like about it…

A/N - Further to the note above - I have changed the ending of this chapter, and am reposting it, cos I wrote a chapter I quite liked which annoyingly didn't fit in at all. Didn't want to start a new story and leave y'all hanging. Plus, its sparked off some ideas about where this could all go. Yay!

It was, Sheldon decided, a tragic misuse of a great apartment. The hallway was decorated top to bottom in eye-watering flowery wallpaper - pink, yellow, and red blooms clashed with the hot pink borders. The long bookcase, and the hall table were covered in drooping cloths, edged with lace. They reminded him of oversized hankies. The only thing that was out of place in this designers' nightmare was the streak of blood running almost the entire length of the hall. Mac joined him, having checked a few things with the officers guarding the apartment's entrance.

"Wow."

Sheldon nodded. "Yeah."

The two men walked carefully through to the main living area. It was huge, encompassing a lounge, kitchen, and dining room, in open-plan. It was just as hideous as the hallway. The flowery wallpaper made a reappearance on the wall they stood next to - Sheldon supposed it was intended to link the whole apartment together - but the rest of it was painted pink. A flowery wallpaper border had been added for effect. Almost everything was decorated in clashing shades of pink, red, and yellow. The thick black curtains were out of place.

Sheldon took the lead through the room. The body lay half-in, half-out of the kitchen area, face down. Judging from the mess the room was in, she had put up a fight. Sheldon took a closer look. There were cuts all along her lower arms and hands. Defensive wounds, he thought.

"Looks like the victim owned the place." Mac said. "Aida Davies. An aunt left it to her about five years ago."

Sheldon looked up from his position crouched near the body. "There's toys in this place. Where's the kid?"

"Neighbours say the daughter is staying with her fraternal grandparents, out near Vermont."

In fact the neighbours had been very informative. The officers had learned that the dead woman's child, a two-year old girl, was the result of a very short-lived marriage. Although Aida and her ex-husband were not on good terms, the grandparents had never been anything but supportive. Little was known about them, except that they were from New Hampshire, somewhere near Vermont. They also saw the little girl - Edie - once a month, alternating between visiting New York, and taking her to New Hampshire. Edie was due back in two days.

The CSIs started cataloguing and searching the room, working in a spiral pattern. Photos were taken first - Sheldon was acting as crime scene photographer - and then the evidence was physically collected. Mac started on the inside of the spiral, Sheldon on the outside. They had done it so many times that it all came naturally.

After about five minutes, Mac stopped by the couch. He surveyed the cushions, which were spattered with dark red stains. He turned to look at the body, and began theorizing. There seemed to be no good reason for Aida Davies to be where she was. If the fight for her life had started here, on the couch, then surely the most obvious routes would have been either to the hallway, or the open window. He frowned, trying to puzzle it out. Meanwhile, Sheldon was looking at the window itself. He dusted the sill, and the handles for prints, hoping to find something.

A boyish grin appeared on his face. "Mac, got a print over here." he called out. He wasn't surprised when his boss didn't reply - Mac would be too absorbed in whatever it was he was doing.

Sheldon took out a piece of lifting tape, and pressed it delicately to the handle. He pulled it away, and sealed the print in. Holding it up to the light, it was possible to make out clearly defined ridges. He collected several more prints off the sill, and one from the glass itself. Chances were, they would all belong to Aida and her daughter, but it was a start.

Stella strode out of the courtroom wishing very, very deeply that she hadn't bothered to get out of bed that morning. Her evidence had been damning, but the trial itself was turning into a bit of a farce. Two jurors had called in sick the day before. Both had returned for her evidence, but now everything had been set back. Added to that, the air conditioning in the courtroom wasn't working properly, and New York City was unseasonably warm. A headache had started just behind her left eye prior to giving evidence, and the defence lawyer was someone she had once had a short fling with. All in all, Stella's day had been a disaster.

She hoped that the lab was calmer. The last she'd heard was that Mac had been rescued from his paperwork, and was at a crime scene with Sheldon. Danny was stuck in the lab, following up on evidence in his home invasion case, and helping with the backlog in Trace. Stella strongly suspected that Danny's help specifically consisted of processing the things that were relevant to another case he was working on. She fought the urge to call in sick and go home to bed.

"Hey, Stel."

She looked up to see Flack leaning against his car. A smile brightened her features. "Hey."

"How did it go?"

"Don't ask."

"That good, huh?"

"My evidence was fine. It was everything else that was the problem."

Flack grinned. "Well, you're gonna be happy about this."

"Why do I think you might be lying?"

He gestured for her to get into the car. A resigned Stella got in, and waited until Flack had driven away from the sidewalk before asking what this was all about. The detective winced.

'What is it, Flack?"

He looked dutifully ahead at the road - not so much because it was the safe thing to do, although it was - but because he didn't really want to catch his friend's eye. "Mac wants you at a scene down on West 27th. Murder in a bar."

Flack chewed at his lip. He didn't need to tell Stella that there was a lot of pressure on them to get results.