XV - CLUELESS
Greg was back in the lab. Several of the writing samples were spread out before him, covering every spare inch of the table top. Warrick stood off to one side, watching him intently.
"Greg, I have to ask. What are you doing?"
"Sorting these papers. Why?"
"Sorting them - how?" Warrick stepped closed, examining the table. "It looks like you've just got them spread out all over the place."
Greg grinned. "I'm sorting them according to bands, and when they were eliminated from the contest, working from top left hand corner down in rows. And then I was thinking, we should lift fingerprints before we send them for handwriting analysis."
"Fingerprints?" Warrick sounded dubious.
"Fingerprints. I can try to compare them from the prints we pulled from Phillips letter and the envelope. We might get lucky." Greg shrugged, and grouped another few sheets together. He looked up at Warrick and smiled. "C'mon Warrick. Say something. It's a good idea, right?"
"It's a great idea. We might make a CSI out of you yet." Warrick's tone was light, and Greg snorted. "So, I guess I'll grab the powder then."
* * * * *
Nick and Sara were still at the now empty bar. Murdoch had just been bagged, and was on his way to Robbins for what promised to be a pretty perfunctionary autopsy.
"So, Grissom and Catherine were sitting over here, and Murdoch was here when they approached him." Nick watched her as she talked out the scenario. "Murdoch collapsed here - into Catherine, who was facing the stage. He was shot in the upper left hand shoulder - bullet didn't emerge. His back was to the stage."
She looked at Nick. "How did our shooter manage to miss hitting anyone else? This place was packed!"
Nick shrugged. "He was lucky - or everyone else was." He moved towards the area were Murdoch had fallen, and turned with Sara to look at the stage.
"If his back was to the stage, and he was shot in the back from the left, the shooter would have had to have been on this side room." He frowned. "It was dark, it was packed. After the gun was shot, panic ensued. He wouldn't have had time to pick up a casing. So - where is it?"
Side by side, he and Sara turned and slowly started walking to the right side of the room, towards the stage.
"Even if we find it, there's no guarantee that it will show us where the shooter stood, you know. It could have been kicked anywhere by people rushing to the exits."
"You normally so pessimistic, Sidle?" Nick teased. His eyes were scanning the floor in front of him. Reaching the stage, he jumped onto it, still moving at a left angle from where the body had fallen. A dull glint to his right about 10 feet caught his eye.
"Well, well, well - Sara, look at this." Nick had stopped, crouching over a shell casing. It was off to the side on the far edge of the stage. Sara smiled at him.
"He was shot by someone on the stage." She turned, hopped off the stage and quickly strode to the area where Murdoch had been shot. "So, if I'm Murdoch and I'm standing here, and my killer is standing where you are -"
"The bullet hit him going in a downward angle." Nick quickly took a photo of the casing, before bagging it. He grinned at Sara. "Stick with me, Sara - I'll make an optimist of you yet!"
* * * * *
The ride back to the lab had been a silent one. Grissom had never been so relieved to get to work, and he jumped out of the Tahoe as soon as the engine stopped. Catherine followed at a more leisurely pace, but slammed the door with more force than necessary as she exited the vehicle.
Grissom turned to look at her, merely cocking an eyebrow and giving her an inscrutable look. Catherine ignored him. Together, in silence, they walked into the lab.
* * * * *
Brass looked up as Catherine and Grissom walked past the front desk, and smiled. "You look better, Catherine. How's the head?"
Catherine's reply was terse. "Fine. So, what do we know?"
Brass shrugged. "Body just arrived about 20 minutes ago. Robbins said he'd work him up right away. Warrick and Greg are in the lab - they're lifting prints from the writing samples to compare to the prints Greg pulled from that letter. Sara and Nick are still at The Edge - but, she just called and said they would be leaving soon. They're picking up dinner and bringing it in." He looked at Catherine again. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine!" She snapped, and than sighed. "Sorry, Brass. I've had a bad night."
"Tell me about it." Brass patted her shoulder in commiseration. Grissom tried not to glare at him.
"I'll be down with Robbins." He muttered. "Page me if you need me."
* * * * *
"Victim was shot from an angle. Bullet entered just above and to the side of his left shoulder blade, traveled in a down-ward trajectory, nicked his heart, punctured a lung, damaged the stomach and intestinal cavity before lodging in the right hipbone. If he had been shot straight, the bullet would have gone through his shoulder, and he'd still be alive."
Grissom looked at Robbins. "But Catherine may not be. She was standing right in front of him. If the bullet had passed through Murdoch, it would have hit her."
"It's a good thing our killer shot downwards, then." Robbins tone was dry. "I managed to retrieve the bullet. You want to take it to ballistics on your way back up?"
* * * * *
Catherine was sitting in the lab with Warrick and Greg. The two men had already lifted almost 100 sets of fingerprints of the writing samples, and they still had more than half to go.
"This is a great idea, guys, but it's gonna take forever to lift all the prints. Too bad we couldn't narrow it down somewhat."
Greg looked at Catherine and smiled. "Maybe we'll be able to when Nick and Sara get back. In the meantime, we gotta work with what we have. Do you want to start running the prints we've already managed to pull?"
Catherine shrugged. "Sure. Nothing better to do."
Warrick and Greg looked at each other, Warrick sighing. "Catherine - are you all right?"
"I swear by all that's holy, if one more person asks me that I am going to scream!" Catherine was annoyed. "I. Am. Fine. Okay? Okay??"
"Okay, Catherine! But it's not every day someone dies in your arms. You have to expect that we'd be concerned for you." Warrick's voice was calm. Catherine looked at him sharply, ready to retort, before sighing.
"You're right. I'm sorry." She smiled glumly. "I seem to be apologizing a lot tonight."
Greg handed her the fingerprints they had lifted. "Don't worry about it, Cath. We're thick skinned - and besides, you're entitled to be a little edgy. There's a lot going on."
* * * * *
The smell of spicy Thai food proceeded Nick and Sara down the hallway. Grissom could smell it from his office, and his stomach grumbled accordingly. Putting down the file he had been reading, he headed towards the lounge. Warrick, Greg and Catherine were just stepping out of the lab, and Warrick had an arm thrown casually over Catherine's shoulder. She leaned her head into him, smiling, as she gave him a little squeeze around his waist. Grissom could hear her soft laughter.
Turning abruptly, he marched back into his office and closed the door, leaning against it closing his eyes. He was not jealous. He refused to be jealous. He didn't know where these sudden emotions were coming from, but he had to get them under control. It was like that whole incident with little Timmy Watson and everyone's subsequent emotional involvement to that case had cracked the dam he hid behind.
He wished he could take back what he had said to Catherine about opening up more. He preferred the old Grissom - stable, stoic and emotionally controlled. A sudden sharp knock at his door made him jerk.
"Grissom - dinner. And we found something at the crime scene." He heard Sara's voice through the doorway, and slowly opened it.
"Coming, Sara."
* * * * *
The food was delicious. She was surrounded by her friends. So why did she feel so lonely? Catherine sighed, as she looked around the room. Her gaze fell on Sara, and Catherine smiled. Sara was leaning against Nick, talking animatedly, a big smile on her face. Catherine didn't remember ever seeing the younger CSI look so happy. Nick was good for her.
She glanced over at Grissom. He was studying a crossword puzzle as he absently ate his dinner, but his body screamed tension. He had been like that ever since her place, and Catherine couldn't figure out what had caused the sudden change. One minute, he had been gentle and concerned - he had even kissed her, for goodness sake! Of course, the kiss had been on her forehead, but still - he had never done that before. And then, after his shower, he was a totally different person - cold, distant, shut-off. She didn't understand what had happened.
Grissom could feel her eyes on him. He shifted, trying to keep focused on the crossword he was half-heartedly trying to complete. He wished she would stop looking at him. Taking a chance, he glanced up and caught her eyes. She looked sad. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and gave her a small smile. Catherine flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring at him, her eyes flashing angrily. But she smiled back.
"So, guys. Tell me what you've found." Grissom dragged his gaze from Catherine and looked around the room. Sara quickly filled everyone in about the finding of the casing, and Grissom nodded.
"Confirms what Robbins said. He managed to retrieve the bullet - it's in ballistics now." Grissom glanced at Catherine again. "Robbins said if the bullet hadn't gone in at an angle, it would have been a clean in and out. You could have been hit, Catherine." He sighed, before turning to Warrick. "And Brass said you guys were running fingerprints from the samples to compare to the ones on the letter and envelope. Good idea, Warrick. Hopefully, it'll provide us with something."
"I can't take the credit for that one, Grissom. It was Greg's idea." He smiled at the younger man. "He also sorted the samples, grouping them by band and the order they were eliminated in the contest."
"Nice going, Greggo!" Greg looked flustered but happy at Sara's praise, which was quickly echoed by the others.
"I'm learning from the best." He responded.
"So, what this all boils down to is this: we might not be so clueless after all." Grissom was looking at Catherine again, even though his words were meant for everyone.
Nick nudged Sara in the ribs with an elbow, grinning. He tilted his eyes in Grissom's direction, and then to Catherine. "Some of us have never been clueless, Grissom." Sara laughed.
_____
Greg was back in the lab. Several of the writing samples were spread out before him, covering every spare inch of the table top. Warrick stood off to one side, watching him intently.
"Greg, I have to ask. What are you doing?"
"Sorting these papers. Why?"
"Sorting them - how?" Warrick stepped closed, examining the table. "It looks like you've just got them spread out all over the place."
Greg grinned. "I'm sorting them according to bands, and when they were eliminated from the contest, working from top left hand corner down in rows. And then I was thinking, we should lift fingerprints before we send them for handwriting analysis."
"Fingerprints?" Warrick sounded dubious.
"Fingerprints. I can try to compare them from the prints we pulled from Phillips letter and the envelope. We might get lucky." Greg shrugged, and grouped another few sheets together. He looked up at Warrick and smiled. "C'mon Warrick. Say something. It's a good idea, right?"
"It's a great idea. We might make a CSI out of you yet." Warrick's tone was light, and Greg snorted. "So, I guess I'll grab the powder then."
* * * * *
Nick and Sara were still at the now empty bar. Murdoch had just been bagged, and was on his way to Robbins for what promised to be a pretty perfunctionary autopsy.
"So, Grissom and Catherine were sitting over here, and Murdoch was here when they approached him." Nick watched her as she talked out the scenario. "Murdoch collapsed here - into Catherine, who was facing the stage. He was shot in the upper left hand shoulder - bullet didn't emerge. His back was to the stage."
She looked at Nick. "How did our shooter manage to miss hitting anyone else? This place was packed!"
Nick shrugged. "He was lucky - or everyone else was." He moved towards the area were Murdoch had fallen, and turned with Sara to look at the stage.
"If his back was to the stage, and he was shot in the back from the left, the shooter would have had to have been on this side room." He frowned. "It was dark, it was packed. After the gun was shot, panic ensued. He wouldn't have had time to pick up a casing. So - where is it?"
Side by side, he and Sara turned and slowly started walking to the right side of the room, towards the stage.
"Even if we find it, there's no guarantee that it will show us where the shooter stood, you know. It could have been kicked anywhere by people rushing to the exits."
"You normally so pessimistic, Sidle?" Nick teased. His eyes were scanning the floor in front of him. Reaching the stage, he jumped onto it, still moving at a left angle from where the body had fallen. A dull glint to his right about 10 feet caught his eye.
"Well, well, well - Sara, look at this." Nick had stopped, crouching over a shell casing. It was off to the side on the far edge of the stage. Sara smiled at him.
"He was shot by someone on the stage." She turned, hopped off the stage and quickly strode to the area where Murdoch had been shot. "So, if I'm Murdoch and I'm standing here, and my killer is standing where you are -"
"The bullet hit him going in a downward angle." Nick quickly took a photo of the casing, before bagging it. He grinned at Sara. "Stick with me, Sara - I'll make an optimist of you yet!"
* * * * *
The ride back to the lab had been a silent one. Grissom had never been so relieved to get to work, and he jumped out of the Tahoe as soon as the engine stopped. Catherine followed at a more leisurely pace, but slammed the door with more force than necessary as she exited the vehicle.
Grissom turned to look at her, merely cocking an eyebrow and giving her an inscrutable look. Catherine ignored him. Together, in silence, they walked into the lab.
* * * * *
Brass looked up as Catherine and Grissom walked past the front desk, and smiled. "You look better, Catherine. How's the head?"
Catherine's reply was terse. "Fine. So, what do we know?"
Brass shrugged. "Body just arrived about 20 minutes ago. Robbins said he'd work him up right away. Warrick and Greg are in the lab - they're lifting prints from the writing samples to compare to the prints Greg pulled from that letter. Sara and Nick are still at The Edge - but, she just called and said they would be leaving soon. They're picking up dinner and bringing it in." He looked at Catherine again. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine!" She snapped, and than sighed. "Sorry, Brass. I've had a bad night."
"Tell me about it." Brass patted her shoulder in commiseration. Grissom tried not to glare at him.
"I'll be down with Robbins." He muttered. "Page me if you need me."
* * * * *
"Victim was shot from an angle. Bullet entered just above and to the side of his left shoulder blade, traveled in a down-ward trajectory, nicked his heart, punctured a lung, damaged the stomach and intestinal cavity before lodging in the right hipbone. If he had been shot straight, the bullet would have gone through his shoulder, and he'd still be alive."
Grissom looked at Robbins. "But Catherine may not be. She was standing right in front of him. If the bullet had passed through Murdoch, it would have hit her."
"It's a good thing our killer shot downwards, then." Robbins tone was dry. "I managed to retrieve the bullet. You want to take it to ballistics on your way back up?"
* * * * *
Catherine was sitting in the lab with Warrick and Greg. The two men had already lifted almost 100 sets of fingerprints of the writing samples, and they still had more than half to go.
"This is a great idea, guys, but it's gonna take forever to lift all the prints. Too bad we couldn't narrow it down somewhat."
Greg looked at Catherine and smiled. "Maybe we'll be able to when Nick and Sara get back. In the meantime, we gotta work with what we have. Do you want to start running the prints we've already managed to pull?"
Catherine shrugged. "Sure. Nothing better to do."
Warrick and Greg looked at each other, Warrick sighing. "Catherine - are you all right?"
"I swear by all that's holy, if one more person asks me that I am going to scream!" Catherine was annoyed. "I. Am. Fine. Okay? Okay??"
"Okay, Catherine! But it's not every day someone dies in your arms. You have to expect that we'd be concerned for you." Warrick's voice was calm. Catherine looked at him sharply, ready to retort, before sighing.
"You're right. I'm sorry." She smiled glumly. "I seem to be apologizing a lot tonight."
Greg handed her the fingerprints they had lifted. "Don't worry about it, Cath. We're thick skinned - and besides, you're entitled to be a little edgy. There's a lot going on."
* * * * *
The smell of spicy Thai food proceeded Nick and Sara down the hallway. Grissom could smell it from his office, and his stomach grumbled accordingly. Putting down the file he had been reading, he headed towards the lounge. Warrick, Greg and Catherine were just stepping out of the lab, and Warrick had an arm thrown casually over Catherine's shoulder. She leaned her head into him, smiling, as she gave him a little squeeze around his waist. Grissom could hear her soft laughter.
Turning abruptly, he marched back into his office and closed the door, leaning against it closing his eyes. He was not jealous. He refused to be jealous. He didn't know where these sudden emotions were coming from, but he had to get them under control. It was like that whole incident with little Timmy Watson and everyone's subsequent emotional involvement to that case had cracked the dam he hid behind.
He wished he could take back what he had said to Catherine about opening up more. He preferred the old Grissom - stable, stoic and emotionally controlled. A sudden sharp knock at his door made him jerk.
"Grissom - dinner. And we found something at the crime scene." He heard Sara's voice through the doorway, and slowly opened it.
"Coming, Sara."
* * * * *
The food was delicious. She was surrounded by her friends. So why did she feel so lonely? Catherine sighed, as she looked around the room. Her gaze fell on Sara, and Catherine smiled. Sara was leaning against Nick, talking animatedly, a big smile on her face. Catherine didn't remember ever seeing the younger CSI look so happy. Nick was good for her.
She glanced over at Grissom. He was studying a crossword puzzle as he absently ate his dinner, but his body screamed tension. He had been like that ever since her place, and Catherine couldn't figure out what had caused the sudden change. One minute, he had been gentle and concerned - he had even kissed her, for goodness sake! Of course, the kiss had been on her forehead, but still - he had never done that before. And then, after his shower, he was a totally different person - cold, distant, shut-off. She didn't understand what had happened.
Grissom could feel her eyes on him. He shifted, trying to keep focused on the crossword he was half-heartedly trying to complete. He wished she would stop looking at him. Taking a chance, he glanced up and caught her eyes. She looked sad. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and gave her a small smile. Catherine flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring at him, her eyes flashing angrily. But she smiled back.
"So, guys. Tell me what you've found." Grissom dragged his gaze from Catherine and looked around the room. Sara quickly filled everyone in about the finding of the casing, and Grissom nodded.
"Confirms what Robbins said. He managed to retrieve the bullet - it's in ballistics now." Grissom glanced at Catherine again. "Robbins said if the bullet hadn't gone in at an angle, it would have been a clean in and out. You could have been hit, Catherine." He sighed, before turning to Warrick. "And Brass said you guys were running fingerprints from the samples to compare to the ones on the letter and envelope. Good idea, Warrick. Hopefully, it'll provide us with something."
"I can't take the credit for that one, Grissom. It was Greg's idea." He smiled at the younger man. "He also sorted the samples, grouping them by band and the order they were eliminated in the contest."
"Nice going, Greggo!" Greg looked flustered but happy at Sara's praise, which was quickly echoed by the others.
"I'm learning from the best." He responded.
"So, what this all boils down to is this: we might not be so clueless after all." Grissom was looking at Catherine again, even though his words were meant for everyone.
Nick nudged Sara in the ribs with an elbow, grinning. He tilted his eyes in Grissom's direction, and then to Catherine. "Some of us have never been clueless, Grissom." Sara laughed.
_____