"Bobby, what are you talking about?" Catherine asked. "So are you telling
us that this guy has empty shells lying around and he plants them to throw
us off?"
"Exactly." He said. "Take a look." Catherine stepped over as Warrick looked at the screen. "Now we all know that everytime a gun is fired, the barrel leaves a distinct mark on the casing. Striation. Well we've got that, but the end of the end of the casing and this bullet where the hammer hit, has already oxidized. Which means..."
"That this bullet was fired was fired from the gun more than twenty four hours ago. And Grissom was missing since late yesterday evening, not even a period of twenty-four hours between then and now. So Milander is trying to throw us off. Not that smart." Warrick said with his arms crossed.
"Thanks Bobby." Catherine smiled as the two CSI's walked out into the hall.
"I was just looking for you two." Robbins said popping out of the morgue.
"And that would be?" Warrick inquired.
"The guy from the warehouse has been dead for at least two days. See." He pointed to the larva in the guys' bullet hole.
"Well.." Catherine sighed. "That explains the bullet."
"So," Warrick paused. "Then Milander probably didn't kill this guy. Maybe he went to take Grissom there thinking that no one would be in there since its abandoned. He walked in on this guy dead on the floor. And the prints, he probably checked to see if he was alive or not."
"Or maybe Milander shot him the day before he kidnapped Grissom." Catherine thought.
"But why would he do that. Shoot the guy, bring Gris there and then leave?" Warrick noted.
"To scare Grissom, maybe?" Catherine turned to Robbins. "Do you have ID on him yet?"
"Not yet, still working on it. You'll be the first to know when I find out." He smiled, which was unusual for Robbins.
Catherine and Warrick nodded and smiled then walked out. "Maybe he's so smart afterall." Catherine pondered.
"Maybe, maybe not. He's a moron who thinks he's smart. But what he doesn't know is that he's got graveyard on his tail." Warrick seethed.
Brass got out of the back of the Tahoe followed immediately by Sara, Nick and Jennifer.
"How may I help you today?" The greasy overalled mechanic asked. "Is your vehicle in need of a tune up."
"No." Brass said. "It's already been serviced." He said with his dry humor as he flashed his badge. "Brass, this is Sara Sidle, Nick Stokes and Jennifer Grissom. They're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We'd like to know if you sell recycled antifreeze."
"Yes we do. Are you interested in purchasing some? On sale." The mechanic looked like he was in his early twenties. Maybe just out of high school or some trade school. He was tall, about Sara's height, brown eyes and dirty blonde hair. Dirty with grease, Brass thought to him self. He had a blue Yankees cap covering his hair, with rags hanging out the side of his overall pockets.
"No, but we'd like to know if you might have sold some in the past day or so to this gentleman." Nick said pulling out a photo of Milander.
The mechanic studied the picture carefully. His eyes squinted. He was really studying the picture. He looked back at the crew. "No. I was here all day. Maybe Jose saw him. We were the only two working yesterday. Hey Jose!" He called. "These policemen want to know if you saw this guy yesterday at all."
Sara rolled her eyes. 'We're not policemen.' She said to herself. That word always bothered her. Always. They were crime scene investigators, not damned policemen.
"Nope. And I remember all the faces of the customers." He smiled.
"I'm sorry we can't help you. But if we see him around here, I'm sure we can give you a call. By the way, my name is Mike." The mechanic announced.
"Thank you Mike. Here's my card." Brass said reaching into his inside coat pocket. "If he does come here, call us immediately. Please."
"Will do. And please stop by anytime. We'll be happy to service your car." Mike smiled.
"Thanks." Nick said as they headed back into the Tahoe.
"Well that's one down. Two more to go." Jennifer spoke in an anxious tone.
"Exactly." He said. "Take a look." Catherine stepped over as Warrick looked at the screen. "Now we all know that everytime a gun is fired, the barrel leaves a distinct mark on the casing. Striation. Well we've got that, but the end of the end of the casing and this bullet where the hammer hit, has already oxidized. Which means..."
"That this bullet was fired was fired from the gun more than twenty four hours ago. And Grissom was missing since late yesterday evening, not even a period of twenty-four hours between then and now. So Milander is trying to throw us off. Not that smart." Warrick said with his arms crossed.
"Thanks Bobby." Catherine smiled as the two CSI's walked out into the hall.
"I was just looking for you two." Robbins said popping out of the morgue.
"And that would be?" Warrick inquired.
"The guy from the warehouse has been dead for at least two days. See." He pointed to the larva in the guys' bullet hole.
"Well.." Catherine sighed. "That explains the bullet."
"So," Warrick paused. "Then Milander probably didn't kill this guy. Maybe he went to take Grissom there thinking that no one would be in there since its abandoned. He walked in on this guy dead on the floor. And the prints, he probably checked to see if he was alive or not."
"Or maybe Milander shot him the day before he kidnapped Grissom." Catherine thought.
"But why would he do that. Shoot the guy, bring Gris there and then leave?" Warrick noted.
"To scare Grissom, maybe?" Catherine turned to Robbins. "Do you have ID on him yet?"
"Not yet, still working on it. You'll be the first to know when I find out." He smiled, which was unusual for Robbins.
Catherine and Warrick nodded and smiled then walked out. "Maybe he's so smart afterall." Catherine pondered.
"Maybe, maybe not. He's a moron who thinks he's smart. But what he doesn't know is that he's got graveyard on his tail." Warrick seethed.
Brass got out of the back of the Tahoe followed immediately by Sara, Nick and Jennifer.
"How may I help you today?" The greasy overalled mechanic asked. "Is your vehicle in need of a tune up."
"No." Brass said. "It's already been serviced." He said with his dry humor as he flashed his badge. "Brass, this is Sara Sidle, Nick Stokes and Jennifer Grissom. They're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We'd like to know if you sell recycled antifreeze."
"Yes we do. Are you interested in purchasing some? On sale." The mechanic looked like he was in his early twenties. Maybe just out of high school or some trade school. He was tall, about Sara's height, brown eyes and dirty blonde hair. Dirty with grease, Brass thought to him self. He had a blue Yankees cap covering his hair, with rags hanging out the side of his overall pockets.
"No, but we'd like to know if you might have sold some in the past day or so to this gentleman." Nick said pulling out a photo of Milander.
The mechanic studied the picture carefully. His eyes squinted. He was really studying the picture. He looked back at the crew. "No. I was here all day. Maybe Jose saw him. We were the only two working yesterday. Hey Jose!" He called. "These policemen want to know if you saw this guy yesterday at all."
Sara rolled her eyes. 'We're not policemen.' She said to herself. That word always bothered her. Always. They were crime scene investigators, not damned policemen.
"Nope. And I remember all the faces of the customers." He smiled.
"I'm sorry we can't help you. But if we see him around here, I'm sure we can give you a call. By the way, my name is Mike." The mechanic announced.
"Thank you Mike. Here's my card." Brass said reaching into his inside coat pocket. "If he does come here, call us immediately. Please."
"Will do. And please stop by anytime. We'll be happy to service your car." Mike smiled.
"Thanks." Nick said as they headed back into the Tahoe.
"Well that's one down. Two more to go." Jennifer spoke in an anxious tone.
