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Chapter 7: Unflappable

Sweets stood by warily, as Booth ceased his stride with a flash of his badge. "I'm special agent Booth and this Dr. Sweets from the FBI. We're here about the body found beneath this facility. "

The warden scrutinized the pair. "He's not one of ours. Everyone here is a counted for. It was the first thing we checked when we heard."

Hearing the defensive tone, Booth continued, "The evidence shows it was there for at least five years. We've run this picture through our system and he's not there. We need to speak to any guards who worked during that time. "

"If it's not a prisoner what do you need to talk to the guards for?"

To keep his partner from creating conflict, Sweets chimed in, "Perhaps there was someone memorable who visited or worked here. "

"New or old, we just need a place to start to figure out why you had a dead body in the pipes."

He bristled at the phrasing. "This way."

He took them from his office to what appeared to be a break room. After the warden announced FBI, Booth moved to the center of the room with his picture. "Any of you recognize this man?"

"That the sewer rat?"

Sweets regarded the seated guard with shock. "He may have been a lawyer, a janitor,"

Booth cut in, "-Maintenance, bookkeeper, but he had some connection to this place. Do. You. Recognize. Him?"

Looking for tells, Booth walked to each guard one by one putting the picture in his line of sight. The answers were all variations of the basic: "Five years is a long time. I can't help you;" "He doesn't look familiar; " "I never saw him."

Finding no signs of deceit amidst them, Sweets sighed. "Thank you for your time. We're going to ask others here if they saw him, but if you remember anything, here's my card." He tacked it to the cork board in the room and began to exit with an equally defeated Booth.

"He didn't work here."

The two turned to the originally snarky guard who was still lounging casually not bothering to give them eye contact.

Booth approached him slowly surmising, "Because you know everyone here."

"Because we don't hire scum - just hold em'."

Sweets felt the beginnings of hope take root. "You remember him."

"Don't know his name. I never asked, but our very own Mr. Evans does. He got a visit from this criminal way too often."

"What kind of criminal?"

"How should I know? But only a criminal would visit one that often who wasn't blood."

Sweets almost smiled with glee at their success. "Mr. Evans you said?"


Kyle Evans had mixed blood to the extent he didn't really fit with any crowd. He wasn't really Mexican but he wasn't fully Asian either, and even though his Grandfather was black, Kyle couldn't pass for it. The result was he lacked any tattoos or verbal habits which identified him with any group. He was just Kyle.

From different clues, both investigators picked up on this as he looked over the picture carefully.

"That's Craig Grimmet. He lived in Jersey."

In case the victim was a loved one, Sweets aimed for a sympathetic tone. "What is he to you?"

He frowned like he didn't understand the question. "Nothing anymore."

"Were you rivals, business partners -"

" Business partners? Ha." At their impatience, he held up a consolatory hand. "Last I heard he was a garbage man and doing fine for himself, but don't go making him something he wasn't."

Booth was not pacified. "That's why we're here. We don't know what he was or why he visited you."

"Friends."

Sweets prodded, "You were friends?"

"Yeah."

Booth redirected. "When was the last time you saw Grimmet?"

He took a long pause to think it over. "I don't know. A few years probably."

"Could you be more specific?"

He shook his head. "There's no point asking me about him. I don't know what he's up to now.

"Do you know why he'd be in the sewers of this prison?"

He scowled at Sweet's question. "I already told you we're not tight."

Booth shot back. "How about five years ago? Were you tight then?"

"Hard to remember."

"How about you try because five years ago your friend went on sewer walk and never came out, but the evidence is showing he was trying to get in here. You got any idea on what he'd wanna do that for?"

He looked him in the eye. "He didn't think I should be in here."

"Guess you do remember something."

Sweets rephrased Booth's snark. "He believed in you."

"Hold the sugar and cream. He was there for me when it all went down that's it."

"So if he was in the area five years ago, it would have been on account of you."

"He the one they dragged up?"

"Bones don't lie." Booth held back any thoughts of irony.

As Booth tried to regain his focus, Evans tried to recall something. "When did he die?"

"Five years ago."

"But when?"

"Lab guys guess around late fall when it was too cold for rain."

Sweets looked at Evans with interest. "You couldn't tell us when the last time you saw him was, but the time of year he died has significance."

Booth went for the direct approach, "What happened that fall?"

Evans shook his head as if dispelling the memories he'd just worked so hard to find. "Craig fought my sentence for months, but couldn't find grounds for appeal. He kept telling me not to give up - that somehow he was going to get me out of here, he just didn't know how yet. Guess he figured something out, huh?"

"That doesn't answer the question. Why did he choose then to go for a walk in the sewers?"

Evans looked back at them with tired eyes. "What does it matter? If Craig got stuck trying to break me out means he wasn't murdered."

"Humor me."

He sighed. "My pal Craig was a fool who couldn't even survive a stroll in sludge; that's all."

Booth looked ready to leave, but Sweets couldn't contain his curiosity. "If you two didn't have a falling out, what did you think when he stopped visiting?"

"When I didn't see him again, I assumed he ran out of ideas and was getting on with his life. I don't blame him. I kinda liked thinking Craig was livin' good somewhere. Better than the alternative."

Booth pushed out from the table. "Thank you for your time."

"This doesn't change a thing, does it?"

Sweets remained seated. "He came back for you."

Kyle looked out the window with a glimmer of awe. "He died for me. I guess he really was my friend."

Booth pulled out Sweets chair. "And you're still in here, so no, it doesn't change much."

"No matter how long it took, he was going to keep coming back for me."

"Good Day Mr. Evans."

Sweets took Booth's less than subtle hint and followed him to the door.