X - YOU HAVE BEAUTIFUL EYES, GIL
"Greg! Grissom!" Nick's voice echoed down the hallway. "Just the guys I'm looking for." He strode quickly towards them, lifting his arm as he got closer. "Grissom - I believe this is yours? I saw it sitting on your desk when I went looking for you in your office." He tossed it towards Grissom, who caught it easily. With a wry look and a shrug, he quickly attached it to his belt. "Brass is looking for you. He's in the lounge."
Grissom sighed. "Okay. We need to confab anyway. Nick, can you grab Sara and Warrick, tell them to meet me there? And, I assume Catherine is down there right now?"
"She might still be there. She was going to run up to K-ROX, and pick up some mail that Waters and Rivers received in the last day or so." He glanced pointedly at Grissom, adding in an undertone. "Clear her head a little bit."
"Why? Isn't she feeling well?"
Nick shrugged. "Don't ask me, Griss. Ask her."
"Why is she going to K-ROX?"
"We found a letter, and we're pretty sure it's from the killer." Nick glanced at Greg. "It's sitting in the lab with the envelope, waiting for you to do your magic, Greggo."
Greg smiled. "Fingerprints, DNA, yada yada yada. I'm on it." Nodding to Grissom, Greg left the two men standing in the hallway.
"Anything else I should know about?" Grissom questioned.
Nick shrugged. "Nothing pertaining to the case." His answer was deliberately vague. Grissom frowned at him.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You hurt Catherine's feelings today, Grissom. She's still upset about it."
"I hurt her feelings? She's the one that wouldn't leave it alone." Grissom grumbled. He looked at Nick, concerned. "Is she mad at me?"
"No. She's just upset. She thinks you're mad at her." Nick's gaze was steady. "Are you angry with her, Grissom?"
"Why would I be angry at Catherine?" Grissom asked, honestly surprised.
Nick smiled. "I don't know. C'mon. Brass is waiting." * * * * *
"So, the murders are definitely linked, then." Brass gruff voice sounded relieved. "Good to know we're looking for just one murderer and not three."
Grissom looked up sharply. "I didn't say one perpetrator, Brass. I said linked. If this Battle of the Bands theory proves valid, we could have some crazy alt. rock band running around killing people."
"That would explain the different MO's." Sara added. "I mean, why cut off Rivers fingertips, and not the other two victims? One is beaten to death, one is stabbed - the other shot? What respectable murderer works like that?" Sara's tone was sarcastic, as was the smirk on her face.
"No. I think it's only one guy." Nick inserted. "In the letter, he refers to himself alone. Why do that if you're working with others?"
"Unless he's trying to throw us off." Warrick contributed. "Maybe they want us to think it's only one person. At the same time, this no MO thing could be our killers' MO. Who knows?"
Brass pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. "So, we're going to check out competing bands, starting with the ones eliminated. All the other judges have been warned to be very aware of their surroundings, so hopefully - no more murders. Greg is running tests on the letter and envelope. We have prints from a dead guy all over our most recent crime scene. And Catherine is at K-ROX, pretending she's a mail man." He sighed. "And we keep referring to our perpetrator as a he. Are we all reasonably sure it's a man?"
Sara nodded. "None of our victims are small men. And in the case of Rivers and Phillips, there was definitely an inordinate amount of physical coercion. I just can't figure out why we don't have any skin or hair follicles or anything. You would think something would be there."
"But there always is something there, Sara." Grissom inserted. "We just haven't found it yet."
Greg knocked on the lounge door, and walked in when everyone looked at him. "Before you ask, I haven't found anything on the letter yet. I pulled some prints, and have them running - but a lot of people touch a letter while it's being processed through the post office, so I don't know what we'll find. The envelope was sealed with water. Stamp too, so no DNA. I just wanted to ask if you guys are going to get handwriting samples from the people you question. Painting with blood is a little different from writing it in ink, but we can still match letter formation. And a quick look at the letter Phillips received and the note stapled to his forehead - I'd say they're written by the same person."
Brass' phone rang before any one could respond. Brass quickly excused himself and stepped out into the hallway. Greg walked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup, before turning back towards the doorway just as Brass stepped back in.
"I just got a call informing me that there's going to be a tribute concert to Rivers and Waters at a club called The Edge tomorrow night. A lot of the local alt. rock bands are going to be there performing. It might be a good idea for us to go and talk to people."
Greg started laughing, and Brass looked at him in annoyance. "What's so funny Greg?"
"Sorry. It's just hard to picture you and Grissom anywhere near a place with a mosh pit."
Grissom looked at Greg. "Mosh pit? Doesn't sound good. What time does this thing start, Brass?"
"9:00 pm sharp. I'll meet you guys there."
"Uhm - Brass?" Greg interrupted. "Can I suggest you don't wear a suit? Dress casual, you know. Jeans and t-shirt, that sort of thing. You're going to stand out enough as it is, but if you go in there screaming 'establishment' no one will talk to you." Greg turned to look at Grissom. "You too, Gris."
Brass was pinching the bridge of his nose again. Shaking his head, he walked out of the room.
"Grissom, I think we should bring Greggo with us." Warrick looked at Grissom as he spoke. "He's familiar with the scene, and seems to have a lot of friends in the industry from what Ray told us. They trust him. Maybe he can help us out."
Greg smiled as Grissom nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Okay - want to come with us Greg?" At Greg's nod, Grissom continued. "So, then. We'll all meet here around 8:00 and go as a group." He rose to his feet, stretching. "I'm going to be in my office - paperwork." He grimaced in distaste. "When Catherine gets back, could you ask her to come find me? And let me know if you guys come up with anything else."
* * * * *
Roughly 30 minutes later, Catherine walked into Grissom's office. "You wanted to see me?"
Grissom glanced up from his desk, nodding absently. "Hey Catherine. Any luck at K-ROX?"
Catherine just shook her head, and answered briefly. "Nope."
Grissom looked at her again, frowning, surprised at her brief answer. "Care to elaborate?"
Catherine ran a slim hand through her hair and shrugged. "No mail. What else is there to say?"
Grissom's eyes narrowed. "Okay, I get it. This is about our conversation in the car, right? I'm sorry if I upset you, but I really didn't want to talk about it. I was embarrassed. Feel better?"
Catherine looked at him, her eyes flashing. "Don't condescend to me, Grissom. I should never have set you up on a blind date to begin with, and I'm sorry I put you in an awkward position, but I don't need *this* - whatever it is." She stood abruptly, tapping her foot impatiently. "Do you need anything else? Or can I leave?"
Grissom sighed. He looked confused, and more than a little annoyed. "No. We're not finished yet. Shut the door."
Catherine jerkily did as he requested, before turning to face him again. "Can we make this quick? I have to call Lindsey."
"Fine. What the hell is going on, Catherine?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
"I don't know. I'm not used to this. I can't figure out why you're upset with me, and it bothers me. I'm tense, and you're pissing me off. So, spill it. What's really going on?"
Catherine sighed, and the anger seemed to drain from her. "Nothing's going on. It's not you, it's me. I'm sorry." She looked at him, and smiled tentatively. "Friends?"
"Always." Grissom walked over to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."
"You didn't disappoint me, Gil. I just - I -" she paused, suddenly at a loss for words. "Did you know you're my best friend? I would never want to jeopardize that."
Grissom smiled at her gently. "There is nothing you could do that would ever wreck our friendship, Catherine." He sighed. "I'm not so sure about myself though. Please promise me, if I ever do anything that upsets you - tell me."
Grissom was staring at Catherine, his blue eyes penetrating. Catherine stared at him intently, noticing the green flecks that seemed to shift through them. She could feel the heat from his hands on her shoulders radiating through her body. Her heart was pounding. Without volition, she sighed. "You have the most beautiful eyes, did you know that Gil?"
Grissom immediately stiffened, and Catherine flushed a deep red. Abruptly, she turned from him, and the sudden loss of her shoulders caused Grissom's hands to drop awkwardly to his sides. She quickly walked to the door, opened it, and left without saying another word.
Grissom was left standing in the middle of his office, staring after her. His hands were still burning where they had rested on her shoulders. He lifted one, studying the palm intently. Catherine thought he had beautiful eyes. He smiled, and then sighed. What the hell had just happened?
_____
"Greg! Grissom!" Nick's voice echoed down the hallway. "Just the guys I'm looking for." He strode quickly towards them, lifting his arm as he got closer. "Grissom - I believe this is yours? I saw it sitting on your desk when I went looking for you in your office." He tossed it towards Grissom, who caught it easily. With a wry look and a shrug, he quickly attached it to his belt. "Brass is looking for you. He's in the lounge."
Grissom sighed. "Okay. We need to confab anyway. Nick, can you grab Sara and Warrick, tell them to meet me there? And, I assume Catherine is down there right now?"
"She might still be there. She was going to run up to K-ROX, and pick up some mail that Waters and Rivers received in the last day or so." He glanced pointedly at Grissom, adding in an undertone. "Clear her head a little bit."
"Why? Isn't she feeling well?"
Nick shrugged. "Don't ask me, Griss. Ask her."
"Why is she going to K-ROX?"
"We found a letter, and we're pretty sure it's from the killer." Nick glanced at Greg. "It's sitting in the lab with the envelope, waiting for you to do your magic, Greggo."
Greg smiled. "Fingerprints, DNA, yada yada yada. I'm on it." Nodding to Grissom, Greg left the two men standing in the hallway.
"Anything else I should know about?" Grissom questioned.
Nick shrugged. "Nothing pertaining to the case." His answer was deliberately vague. Grissom frowned at him.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You hurt Catherine's feelings today, Grissom. She's still upset about it."
"I hurt her feelings? She's the one that wouldn't leave it alone." Grissom grumbled. He looked at Nick, concerned. "Is she mad at me?"
"No. She's just upset. She thinks you're mad at her." Nick's gaze was steady. "Are you angry with her, Grissom?"
"Why would I be angry at Catherine?" Grissom asked, honestly surprised.
Nick smiled. "I don't know. C'mon. Brass is waiting." * * * * *
"So, the murders are definitely linked, then." Brass gruff voice sounded relieved. "Good to know we're looking for just one murderer and not three."
Grissom looked up sharply. "I didn't say one perpetrator, Brass. I said linked. If this Battle of the Bands theory proves valid, we could have some crazy alt. rock band running around killing people."
"That would explain the different MO's." Sara added. "I mean, why cut off Rivers fingertips, and not the other two victims? One is beaten to death, one is stabbed - the other shot? What respectable murderer works like that?" Sara's tone was sarcastic, as was the smirk on her face.
"No. I think it's only one guy." Nick inserted. "In the letter, he refers to himself alone. Why do that if you're working with others?"
"Unless he's trying to throw us off." Warrick contributed. "Maybe they want us to think it's only one person. At the same time, this no MO thing could be our killers' MO. Who knows?"
Brass pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. "So, we're going to check out competing bands, starting with the ones eliminated. All the other judges have been warned to be very aware of their surroundings, so hopefully - no more murders. Greg is running tests on the letter and envelope. We have prints from a dead guy all over our most recent crime scene. And Catherine is at K-ROX, pretending she's a mail man." He sighed. "And we keep referring to our perpetrator as a he. Are we all reasonably sure it's a man?"
Sara nodded. "None of our victims are small men. And in the case of Rivers and Phillips, there was definitely an inordinate amount of physical coercion. I just can't figure out why we don't have any skin or hair follicles or anything. You would think something would be there."
"But there always is something there, Sara." Grissom inserted. "We just haven't found it yet."
Greg knocked on the lounge door, and walked in when everyone looked at him. "Before you ask, I haven't found anything on the letter yet. I pulled some prints, and have them running - but a lot of people touch a letter while it's being processed through the post office, so I don't know what we'll find. The envelope was sealed with water. Stamp too, so no DNA. I just wanted to ask if you guys are going to get handwriting samples from the people you question. Painting with blood is a little different from writing it in ink, but we can still match letter formation. And a quick look at the letter Phillips received and the note stapled to his forehead - I'd say they're written by the same person."
Brass' phone rang before any one could respond. Brass quickly excused himself and stepped out into the hallway. Greg walked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup, before turning back towards the doorway just as Brass stepped back in.
"I just got a call informing me that there's going to be a tribute concert to Rivers and Waters at a club called The Edge tomorrow night. A lot of the local alt. rock bands are going to be there performing. It might be a good idea for us to go and talk to people."
Greg started laughing, and Brass looked at him in annoyance. "What's so funny Greg?"
"Sorry. It's just hard to picture you and Grissom anywhere near a place with a mosh pit."
Grissom looked at Greg. "Mosh pit? Doesn't sound good. What time does this thing start, Brass?"
"9:00 pm sharp. I'll meet you guys there."
"Uhm - Brass?" Greg interrupted. "Can I suggest you don't wear a suit? Dress casual, you know. Jeans and t-shirt, that sort of thing. You're going to stand out enough as it is, but if you go in there screaming 'establishment' no one will talk to you." Greg turned to look at Grissom. "You too, Gris."
Brass was pinching the bridge of his nose again. Shaking his head, he walked out of the room.
"Grissom, I think we should bring Greggo with us." Warrick looked at Grissom as he spoke. "He's familiar with the scene, and seems to have a lot of friends in the industry from what Ray told us. They trust him. Maybe he can help us out."
Greg smiled as Grissom nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Okay - want to come with us Greg?" At Greg's nod, Grissom continued. "So, then. We'll all meet here around 8:00 and go as a group." He rose to his feet, stretching. "I'm going to be in my office - paperwork." He grimaced in distaste. "When Catherine gets back, could you ask her to come find me? And let me know if you guys come up with anything else."
* * * * *
Roughly 30 minutes later, Catherine walked into Grissom's office. "You wanted to see me?"
Grissom glanced up from his desk, nodding absently. "Hey Catherine. Any luck at K-ROX?"
Catherine just shook her head, and answered briefly. "Nope."
Grissom looked at her again, frowning, surprised at her brief answer. "Care to elaborate?"
Catherine ran a slim hand through her hair and shrugged. "No mail. What else is there to say?"
Grissom's eyes narrowed. "Okay, I get it. This is about our conversation in the car, right? I'm sorry if I upset you, but I really didn't want to talk about it. I was embarrassed. Feel better?"
Catherine looked at him, her eyes flashing. "Don't condescend to me, Grissom. I should never have set you up on a blind date to begin with, and I'm sorry I put you in an awkward position, but I don't need *this* - whatever it is." She stood abruptly, tapping her foot impatiently. "Do you need anything else? Or can I leave?"
Grissom sighed. He looked confused, and more than a little annoyed. "No. We're not finished yet. Shut the door."
Catherine jerkily did as he requested, before turning to face him again. "Can we make this quick? I have to call Lindsey."
"Fine. What the hell is going on, Catherine?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
"I don't know. I'm not used to this. I can't figure out why you're upset with me, and it bothers me. I'm tense, and you're pissing me off. So, spill it. What's really going on?"
Catherine sighed, and the anger seemed to drain from her. "Nothing's going on. It's not you, it's me. I'm sorry." She looked at him, and smiled tentatively. "Friends?"
"Always." Grissom walked over to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."
"You didn't disappoint me, Gil. I just - I -" she paused, suddenly at a loss for words. "Did you know you're my best friend? I would never want to jeopardize that."
Grissom smiled at her gently. "There is nothing you could do that would ever wreck our friendship, Catherine." He sighed. "I'm not so sure about myself though. Please promise me, if I ever do anything that upsets you - tell me."
Grissom was staring at Catherine, his blue eyes penetrating. Catherine stared at him intently, noticing the green flecks that seemed to shift through them. She could feel the heat from his hands on her shoulders radiating through her body. Her heart was pounding. Without volition, she sighed. "You have the most beautiful eyes, did you know that Gil?"
Grissom immediately stiffened, and Catherine flushed a deep red. Abruptly, she turned from him, and the sudden loss of her shoulders caused Grissom's hands to drop awkwardly to his sides. She quickly walked to the door, opened it, and left without saying another word.
Grissom was left standing in the middle of his office, staring after her. His hands were still burning where they had rested on her shoulders. He lifted one, studying the palm intently. Catherine thought he had beautiful eyes. He smiled, and then sighed. What the hell had just happened?
_____