Hey there. Just a note to all, I'm Australian so any American football lingo I use that's wrong, I apologize. I just went from what I've heard. I don't even know if the Nicks and the Celtics are a football or baseball team and I made up player names. So sorry in advance:D

SECOND WEEK IN

Phoebe poured two cups of coffee while she waited in the break room for Grissom to come and in give them their assignments. She picked up both cups and walked over to a very tired Sara Sidle who was half-sleeping on the couch in the corner of the room. Sara had only been working in Vegas for a week longer than Phoebe, but had pulled double shift; working the day and night shift.

"Here." Phoebe said holding out one of the mugs to her. "I should just hook it to your veins." Sara took the cup and thanked Phoebe who shoved her legs off the end of the couch and sat down beside her. "How long does he take to hand out assignments?"

"Varies." Sara said as she drank in the caffeine that would kick-start her day. "He likes to think he's unpredictable. But that in itself is predictable, actually." Sara realized.

Phoebe laughed as Nick and Warrick came into the break room, already deep in conversation.

"No, Nick, you're wrong." Warrick was saying. "The Nicks can get to the top of the table by the end of the month. Two, tops."

"No way, man, look at your man Euing, he can't keep off the plate." Nick countered. "Celtics have all they need to make it to the finals." He turned to the girls. "Ladies, back me up here."

Sara got to her feet. "I'm sorry, this sounds like something I'm never going to be interested in." she said as she went and added more sugar to her coffee.

"Phoebe, where do you stand?" Warrick asked her as he filled a coffee cup each for him and Nick. "Nicks or Celtics?"

"Oh, I don't follow American football." She told them.

"Oh yeah? So what's your game?" Warrick asked, taking a seat at the table.

"NRL." Phoebe told them. "National Rugby League. There's only one American cable channel that carries it."

"NRL?" Nick asked quizzically.

"Don't knock it; our guys are a lot more hard-ass then yours." Phoebe told him.

"Is that so?" Nick sat across from Warrick.

"Our boys don't run around with helmets and padding on. They go out there in tight t-shirts and short-shorts with no protection at all pounding into each other." Phoebe explained. "Now that, m'boys, is a sport."

At that moment, Grissom entered the room talking with Catherine Willows. He wore quite a smart, black suit. Not his usual work wear. "Alright team." He said with mock enthusiasm. "We got a busy night tonight so everyone's working solo except for Phoebe. Nick, robbery on the strip." He handed Nick a file. "Sara, homicide in Gregory Terrace." He handed her a file. "And Warrick, you and Phoebe; dead body found in an alley by the marina." He handed a file to Phoebe. "I have date with the court so Catherine's acting supervisor for the night. Call her if you need anything." With that, he left the room.

Catherine looked around at them. "Alright, you heard the man." she said. "Let's get started."

xxx

Phoebe and Warrick took his car down to the marina just outside of the Vegas strip. Captain Brass and his men were already on the scene trying to keep the growing crowd at bay. Phoebe noticed the young coroner David already at the body as she and Warrick walked over to him.

"Hey Dave." Warrick said as they reached him. "What've we got?"

"Male. Approximately thirty to thirty five years old. Liver temp suggests he's been dead about six hours." David told them.

"COD?" asked Phoebe.

"Preliminary cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the temple." David said, showing them the victims head wound. "Bullet's embedded in the brain; I'll remove it at autopsy."

"Suicide?" asked Warrick as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"That was my thought, but there's no sign of a murder weapon or gun shot residue anywhere on the body besides his head." David told them. "Which can be attributed to blow back from the shot."

"So we're lookin' at a homicide." Warrick surmised.

"I would think so. I didn't find any ID on the body, or a watch or wedding ring. It's likely that he may have been robbed." David packed up his kit. "I'll leave you guys to it."

"Thanks Dave." Phoebe told him as he got up and walked away. She squatted down and got out her flashlight, looking over the body. "Homeless?"

Warrick shook his head. "I don't think so." He looked at the label on the man's jacket. "Custom made Boss. These are a few grand a piece, more for alterations."

"I'm not gonna ask how you know that." Phoebe said without looking at him.

Warrick grinned. "Probably a good idea." He said, checking out the victim's fingernails. He removed a wooden skewer from his kit and scraped the dirt under the man's nails into a bindle.

Phoebe swabbed the bullet wound and returned the sample to her kit. She was examining the front of the man's shirt when Warrick let out a low whistle. She looked up. He was tape-lifting the dirt from the man's shoes and had lifted up his pant leg to gain better access when he'd found a major piece of evidence; the man was wearing an ankle holster.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" He asked Phoebe, shining his torch up at her.

"Shot with his own gun." Phoebe realized. "Cold." She picked up the brand name suit jacket and scanned it with her torch. Seeing something on the fabric, Phoebe got her tweezers and shone the torch over the jacket.

"What've you got?" Warrick asked.

"Looks like a hair." Phoebe said, plucking it off the jacket and looking at it more closely. "Not human. Maybe a cat; although it's kind of thick." She put the hair into evidence.

"Okay." Warrick started. "We got a well-dressed guy in the skanky part of Vegas. He's got no ID, no possessions."

"What're you thinking?" Phoebe asked.

"Stripper." Warrick told her. "Screw, steal and make tracks. Picks up a lady, they do their thing, she kills him and takes everything he's got."

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Motive?"

"Drugs, bills, kids." Warrick listed. "Who knows?"

"Okay, say it was a stripper. He's a big guy. Unless he was a cubby chaser, I'm assuming he could overpower her."

"Maybe she killed him before he got a chance to defend himself. Right after she'd had her way with him."

"Then why would she re-dress him?" Phoebe persisted. "And by the way his clothes are sitting; he was wearing them when he was shot."

"Do you enjoying shooting me down?" Warrick asked smirking.

"Yeah. And it helps that I'm good at it." Phoebe told him.

The pair of them processed the body for another hour but didn't find anything else of any use. And the fact that there was no blood at the scene or any shell casings which suggested the victim had been killed somewhere else.

xxx

When they arrived back at the lab, Warrick went to see how David was going with the autopsy while Phoebe took all their evidence to Greg. She found him and Nick in the lab. They were discussing some kind of metal enhancer when she entered, her arms carrying all the evidence from the scene.

"Hey boys." She said, dumping the contents of her hand onto an empty desk. "Busy?"

"Not for you." Greg said, coming over to her. "What do you need?"

"Warrick and I have a dead body found by the marina. No ID, no leads." She handed Greg the lifted prints of the victims' shoes. "Can you test these dirt elements? We know he wasn't killed by the water so we need to know where to look for our killer."

"Get a murder weapon?" Nick inquired.

"No, not yet." Phoebe told him. "But there's a bullet lodged in the vic's brain. Maybe we'll get lucky." Phoebe gathered up the rest of her evidence. "I'll be next door if you need me."

Greg and Nick watched Phoebe leave, Greg a little more obviously than Nick. "Aw, man." Greg turned back to Nick with a look of glee on his face. "We are getting the hottest women in Vegas working here! First Sara, now Phoebe. How's a man supposed to work?"

Nick picked up the results of his metal analysis. "Greg-o, you'll waste you're life asking that question." Greg just scoffed in reply as he watched Nick leave the room.

Phoebe ran tests on the blood from the bullet wound, hoping to find the victim in the DNA database. But these searches could take from seconds to hours before they turned up a hit. So while she waited on that; Phoebe began to test the possible cat hair.

xxx

Down in the basement, Warrick watched David finish up the autopsy. He'd already retrieved the bullet. A 9 caliber slug from a handgun. Warrick had it waiting in a bag so he could take it to be tested upstairs when he was finished.

"COD was definitely the bullet to the head. His brain practically disintegrated upon impact. And I think the theory he was homeless can be demolished." David said to Warrick. "His teeth have been straightened, whitened and maintained. Plus, his blood analysis shows signs of a recent flu vaccination. Probably within the last couple of days." David picked up a container near the body that was filled with a rather gross looking liquid; the victim's stomach contents. "He ate well. Lobster ravioli and what looks like fine champagne. Not exactly something one can steal from a garbage can."

Warrick thanked Dave, grabbed his bagged bullet and headed upstairs to find Phoebe. She was in one of the labs going over the rest of their evidence. As he walked closer to her he saw that she was reading a sheet of paper with a confused look on her face. "Hey." He said as he arrived at the door. "What's up?"

She held up the paper she was holding. "I just tested that hair we found on the vic."

"Not feline?" Warrick asked, taking the paper from her.

"No, its feline alright." She said nodding. "But it's not from a regular cat. It's from a tiger."