VII - EPITHELIALS AND FOOTPRINTS
"Home sweet home." Greg sighed as he walked into the lab, touching the equipment, murmuring happily as his fingers brushed his microscope. Turning, his dark eyes bright with happiness, he smiled at Grissom.
"Thanks Grissom."
"For what?" Grissom leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms casually over his chest. "You're doing us a favor, coming back early. And you might not be thanking me in a couple of days, when you're overwhelmed with lab work, and we're all snapping at you."
Grissom smiled as Greg turned back to the equipment, rearranging things, opening drawers - he looked like a kid in a candy store, re-acquainting himself with his favorite treats. "Listen, Greg. Dr. Mellows has given you permission to do restricted work - that means plenty of breaks, and not full shifts. I expect you not to push yourself. Also, remember the defibrillator can not take intensive electric impulses - so, when you're running some of the more intensive equipment, you have to stand clear and wear a lead apron. If I catch you jeopardizing your health in any way, as much as we need you here, I'll send you home. Understand me?"
"Lead apron? The type you wear when you're getting an x-ray?" Greg was standing sideways, halfway facing Grissom, and grimaced when he saw Grissom nod. "Okay. I'll go get one from Doc Robbins."
"Good. You do that. But first, come down to the break room. We have to fill you and Nick in on the cases we're working, and we've got a list of tests we need run. Welcome back, Greg."
* * * * *
"Geez. These pictures from Lifestyles are freaky." Nick was looking at the pictures Warrick had taken of the blood splatters on the walls. Because the walls were all black, pictures had been taken in full light, and also in darkness after having been sprayed with luminal. The blue light turned the blood an electric color against the stark blackness of the walls, each streak and break in the smear standing in dark relief. "This is pig's blood?"
Greg was standing behind Nick, looking over his shoulder. "It wasn't splashed on. It's too uniform. See the streaking here and here?" He reached over Nick's shoulder, indicating a couple of horizontal lines where the bloods. "When I painted my apartment a few months ago, this is what I had after the first coat."
Grissom leaned forward, stretching his hand out for the pictures. "Did you spray luminal on the floors?"
Grissom looked at Catherine, who shook her head. "No. We didn't see any blood on the floors, it was all on the walls, and there were no areas that had been cleaned. The floors are black as well, so we would have noticed."
Grissom stared at Catherine for a few minutes, before shaking his head and looking back at the pictures. "But if it was just a drop or two, maybe not. They transported the blood to the crime scene - what did they bring it in? Paint cans? Buckets? They would have put them on the floor. Buckets and cans drip. Go back, and see if you can find anything."
Catherine's mouth tightened imperceptibly, and she nodded tersely. "Okay. We'll do that." She turned to Greg, and softened slightly. "Can you check out our letter for us? We didn't have time to do it yesterday, and I didn't want to leave it for Vincent. Regular stuff - fingerprints, DNA - anything."
Greg nodded, and Catherine handed him the letter in a sealed evidence bag. "Thanks Greg. I'm glad you're back." She turned to Grissom, and the tight expression was back on her face. Grissom was still engrossed in the crime photos, and didn't notice but everyone else did. "Do you want us to go right now, or stick around to be briefed on your case? Grissom?"
Grissom nodded absently. "No, go now. It shouldn't take long, and by the time you get back Robbins should be finished with most of the reports."
"Fine." Catherine stood abruptly, looking at Warrick and jerking her head towards the door. "Let's haul ass, Warrick."
* * * * *
Nick and Sara had the unenviable task of piecing together several planes of broken glass that had been retrieved from the New Age store. Grissom wanted them to determine if the glass had been shattered by bullets, and if so, what angle they had hit the glass at. He had gone to talk to Robbins about the autopsies.
Nick was sorting through shards of glass, grumbling under his breath. "Why do we have to do this shit? Warrick's the expert at it."
"Just think of it as a giant colorless jigsaw puzzle Nick. It's not that bad. Start with the edges first and work in." Sara's voice was soft and Nick watched her for a moment as she pulled out several large pieces, closely studying the angles on the outer edges of the glass to determine which side had blown inward. She was biting her lip. Nick smiled.
"You love this, don't you?"
"What? Piecing together broken windows?" Sara's tone was teasing, and she slanted her eyes at Nick, before picking up two more shards. "I can think of better things to do."
Nick grinned. "So can I. But since I can't - at work - I guess this will have to do."
* * * * *
Grissom popped into the lab on his way back from autopsy. Robbins basically had no news for him, other than the obvious. All the victims from Magikal had been shot at fairly close range. The only one who had not died instantly was the lady Grissom had found underneath the broken display case. She had been shot in the stomach, the bullet ripping through her liver. The shot had been fatal, but it had taken a few minutes for her to die, and her death would have been agonizing.
All the victims had been easily identified, the bullets retrieved, and the final reports were all but signed by Robbins.
The burnt men had been a different matter. Their deaths had been horrifying. Lab tests that Vincent had somehow managed to complete on his own without screwing up had indicated copious amounts of alcohol had been poured on the men before they had been set ablaze. Grissom supposed this made sense, since they were in a bar, but it was still disturbing. He made a mental note to call Catherine with this information so she could check for empty and half empty bottles. Maybe they would get lucky and find the bottles with prints they could use to identify the person or persons who had done this.
The seven employees had been positively identified using dental records, but the eighth victim was still unknown. He didn't fit the description of any recent missing person's reports, and Grissom didn't like the fact that no one had called the police yet looking for him. The only saving grace in the whole matter, as far as Grissom could see, was that 'John Doe' hadn't been burnt as badly as the other men. Because they had been tied together before being set on fire, the seven employees forming an outer ring around him, he was still recognizable. The problem was, no recognized him.
And because he had been so well protected by the body mass of the other men, he was the only one who hadn't been burnt to death. While he had suffered burns, they hadn't been fatal. Instead, he had been crushed as the other men had struggled against the wire binding them and the fire searing their flesh; all his ribs broken and his internal organs imploding from the pressure.
Grissom was pondering this mystery man as he entered the lab. Greg was sitting on his stool, music playing, looking intently through his microscope. He looked extremely tired, but Grissom could sense his contentment at being back.
"Hey Greg. How are you feeling?"
Greg looked up from his work, smiling at Grissom. "Don't you mean how am I doing? I think I might have found something."
Grissom shook his head. "No - I meant how are you feeling. Tell me what you found after you answer my first question."
"I just have to get used to the new Grissom. You're normally not so solicitous when waiting for results." His tone was teasing, and he smiled when Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at him, not responding. "I'm pushing my luck, eh? Okay. I'm feeling alright. I'm going to take a break as soon as I finish this - can I use the coach in your office? I've got Vincent putting together lists of slaughterhouses, pig farms and butchers in and around Las Vegas for Catherine and Warrick when they get back. And I've found a couple of hairs."
Grissom stepped into the lab, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Hair? Where?"
Greg swiveled on his stool, fully facing Grissom. "It was on the letter. I lifted some prints too. Then I thought I should try to dissolve the glue holding some of the letters to the paper, and started doing that -" he held up a hand at Grissom's sudden look of consternation. "Don't worry, I took pictures of the letter first, and I only lifted a few of the cuttings When I was printing the letter, I felt a couple of abnormalities under the thinner magazine paper, and thought I should check them out, so I dissolved the glue to lift them. They've been re-set in the exact same place."
"Epithelials?"
"That's what I was looking for when you walked in." Greg turned back to his microscope. "Give me a minute. You realize the only way we'll have skin tags is if the person who created this glued their hair under a letter by mistake and pulled it out when they lifted their head."
Grissom nodded, stepping closer. "Stranger things have happened."
Greg was looking through the scopes now, adjusting the slide the hairs were on. "Wow. This is interesting." He looked up and smiled at Grissom. "Epithelials. And two different hairs. Want to help me collect some DNA?"
* * * * *
Warrick looked at Catherine warily as she stamped around the bar, spraying luminal on the floor.
"Want to tell me about it, Cath?"
"Nothing to tell." Catherine's voice was testy.
"You're angry at Grissom."
"No, I'm not."
Warrick grinned, but his tone was sympathetic. "Yes you are. You called him Grissom before we left, and you haven't called him Grissom in weeks. He was right, you know. We should have done this last night. Don't take it so personally."
"How am I supposed to take it when he practically accuses me of not doing my job properly?"
"What are you talking about, Catherine. He just told us to come back and check it out. He didn't accuse you - or me - of anything." Warrick was genuinely surprised. "I think you're reading this the wrong way."
"You would say that, you're a man." Catherine snapped. She looked at Warrick when he didn't respond, prepared to elaborate, but stopped when she saw the amused expression on his face. "What's so funny?"
"I'm not laughing at you Catherine. But, c'mon. Cut Grissom some slack. He's still your supervisor, even if you are in a relationship now."
Catherine sputtered. "What? How -"
"You leave work together. You come to work together. Grissom is nicer to everyone, and you're - softer. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out - only a forensic scientist." His tone was light, his eyes teasing. "Personally, I think it's great and I'm happy for the both of you. But you can't take it personally when he tells you to do something. That's his job. And we did skip a step."
Catherine had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yeah. You're right." She smiled at Warrick suddenly. "Sorry about the man crack."
"De Nada." Warrick waved his hands nonchalantly. "You finished with the luminal?"
"Yeah. Grab the camera. I'll hit the lights."
Warrick did as he was told, looking around the suddenly dark room as Catherine shone the blue light over the floor. A small number of dots and drips could be seen tracking along the floors' outer edges, and a small half circle of blood clearly outlined where the can or bucket had been placed. Warrick quickly started snapping pictures, humming to himself. When he got closer to the ring of blood, he stopped.
"Catherine. Come here. We got a partial footprint."
Catherine smiled as she approached Warrick. "God, I hate it when Gil is right."
________
"Home sweet home." Greg sighed as he walked into the lab, touching the equipment, murmuring happily as his fingers brushed his microscope. Turning, his dark eyes bright with happiness, he smiled at Grissom.
"Thanks Grissom."
"For what?" Grissom leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms casually over his chest. "You're doing us a favor, coming back early. And you might not be thanking me in a couple of days, when you're overwhelmed with lab work, and we're all snapping at you."
Grissom smiled as Greg turned back to the equipment, rearranging things, opening drawers - he looked like a kid in a candy store, re-acquainting himself with his favorite treats. "Listen, Greg. Dr. Mellows has given you permission to do restricted work - that means plenty of breaks, and not full shifts. I expect you not to push yourself. Also, remember the defibrillator can not take intensive electric impulses - so, when you're running some of the more intensive equipment, you have to stand clear and wear a lead apron. If I catch you jeopardizing your health in any way, as much as we need you here, I'll send you home. Understand me?"
"Lead apron? The type you wear when you're getting an x-ray?" Greg was standing sideways, halfway facing Grissom, and grimaced when he saw Grissom nod. "Okay. I'll go get one from Doc Robbins."
"Good. You do that. But first, come down to the break room. We have to fill you and Nick in on the cases we're working, and we've got a list of tests we need run. Welcome back, Greg."
* * * * *
"Geez. These pictures from Lifestyles are freaky." Nick was looking at the pictures Warrick had taken of the blood splatters on the walls. Because the walls were all black, pictures had been taken in full light, and also in darkness after having been sprayed with luminal. The blue light turned the blood an electric color against the stark blackness of the walls, each streak and break in the smear standing in dark relief. "This is pig's blood?"
Greg was standing behind Nick, looking over his shoulder. "It wasn't splashed on. It's too uniform. See the streaking here and here?" He reached over Nick's shoulder, indicating a couple of horizontal lines where the bloods. "When I painted my apartment a few months ago, this is what I had after the first coat."
Grissom leaned forward, stretching his hand out for the pictures. "Did you spray luminal on the floors?"
Grissom looked at Catherine, who shook her head. "No. We didn't see any blood on the floors, it was all on the walls, and there were no areas that had been cleaned. The floors are black as well, so we would have noticed."
Grissom stared at Catherine for a few minutes, before shaking his head and looking back at the pictures. "But if it was just a drop or two, maybe not. They transported the blood to the crime scene - what did they bring it in? Paint cans? Buckets? They would have put them on the floor. Buckets and cans drip. Go back, and see if you can find anything."
Catherine's mouth tightened imperceptibly, and she nodded tersely. "Okay. We'll do that." She turned to Greg, and softened slightly. "Can you check out our letter for us? We didn't have time to do it yesterday, and I didn't want to leave it for Vincent. Regular stuff - fingerprints, DNA - anything."
Greg nodded, and Catherine handed him the letter in a sealed evidence bag. "Thanks Greg. I'm glad you're back." She turned to Grissom, and the tight expression was back on her face. Grissom was still engrossed in the crime photos, and didn't notice but everyone else did. "Do you want us to go right now, or stick around to be briefed on your case? Grissom?"
Grissom nodded absently. "No, go now. It shouldn't take long, and by the time you get back Robbins should be finished with most of the reports."
"Fine." Catherine stood abruptly, looking at Warrick and jerking her head towards the door. "Let's haul ass, Warrick."
* * * * *
Nick and Sara had the unenviable task of piecing together several planes of broken glass that had been retrieved from the New Age store. Grissom wanted them to determine if the glass had been shattered by bullets, and if so, what angle they had hit the glass at. He had gone to talk to Robbins about the autopsies.
Nick was sorting through shards of glass, grumbling under his breath. "Why do we have to do this shit? Warrick's the expert at it."
"Just think of it as a giant colorless jigsaw puzzle Nick. It's not that bad. Start with the edges first and work in." Sara's voice was soft and Nick watched her for a moment as she pulled out several large pieces, closely studying the angles on the outer edges of the glass to determine which side had blown inward. She was biting her lip. Nick smiled.
"You love this, don't you?"
"What? Piecing together broken windows?" Sara's tone was teasing, and she slanted her eyes at Nick, before picking up two more shards. "I can think of better things to do."
Nick grinned. "So can I. But since I can't - at work - I guess this will have to do."
* * * * *
Grissom popped into the lab on his way back from autopsy. Robbins basically had no news for him, other than the obvious. All the victims from Magikal had been shot at fairly close range. The only one who had not died instantly was the lady Grissom had found underneath the broken display case. She had been shot in the stomach, the bullet ripping through her liver. The shot had been fatal, but it had taken a few minutes for her to die, and her death would have been agonizing.
All the victims had been easily identified, the bullets retrieved, and the final reports were all but signed by Robbins.
The burnt men had been a different matter. Their deaths had been horrifying. Lab tests that Vincent had somehow managed to complete on his own without screwing up had indicated copious amounts of alcohol had been poured on the men before they had been set ablaze. Grissom supposed this made sense, since they were in a bar, but it was still disturbing. He made a mental note to call Catherine with this information so she could check for empty and half empty bottles. Maybe they would get lucky and find the bottles with prints they could use to identify the person or persons who had done this.
The seven employees had been positively identified using dental records, but the eighth victim was still unknown. He didn't fit the description of any recent missing person's reports, and Grissom didn't like the fact that no one had called the police yet looking for him. The only saving grace in the whole matter, as far as Grissom could see, was that 'John Doe' hadn't been burnt as badly as the other men. Because they had been tied together before being set on fire, the seven employees forming an outer ring around him, he was still recognizable. The problem was, no recognized him.
And because he had been so well protected by the body mass of the other men, he was the only one who hadn't been burnt to death. While he had suffered burns, they hadn't been fatal. Instead, he had been crushed as the other men had struggled against the wire binding them and the fire searing their flesh; all his ribs broken and his internal organs imploding from the pressure.
Grissom was pondering this mystery man as he entered the lab. Greg was sitting on his stool, music playing, looking intently through his microscope. He looked extremely tired, but Grissom could sense his contentment at being back.
"Hey Greg. How are you feeling?"
Greg looked up from his work, smiling at Grissom. "Don't you mean how am I doing? I think I might have found something."
Grissom shook his head. "No - I meant how are you feeling. Tell me what you found after you answer my first question."
"I just have to get used to the new Grissom. You're normally not so solicitous when waiting for results." His tone was teasing, and he smiled when Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at him, not responding. "I'm pushing my luck, eh? Okay. I'm feeling alright. I'm going to take a break as soon as I finish this - can I use the coach in your office? I've got Vincent putting together lists of slaughterhouses, pig farms and butchers in and around Las Vegas for Catherine and Warrick when they get back. And I've found a couple of hairs."
Grissom stepped into the lab, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Hair? Where?"
Greg swiveled on his stool, fully facing Grissom. "It was on the letter. I lifted some prints too. Then I thought I should try to dissolve the glue holding some of the letters to the paper, and started doing that -" he held up a hand at Grissom's sudden look of consternation. "Don't worry, I took pictures of the letter first, and I only lifted a few of the cuttings When I was printing the letter, I felt a couple of abnormalities under the thinner magazine paper, and thought I should check them out, so I dissolved the glue to lift them. They've been re-set in the exact same place."
"Epithelials?"
"That's what I was looking for when you walked in." Greg turned back to his microscope. "Give me a minute. You realize the only way we'll have skin tags is if the person who created this glued their hair under a letter by mistake and pulled it out when they lifted their head."
Grissom nodded, stepping closer. "Stranger things have happened."
Greg was looking through the scopes now, adjusting the slide the hairs were on. "Wow. This is interesting." He looked up and smiled at Grissom. "Epithelials. And two different hairs. Want to help me collect some DNA?"
* * * * *
Warrick looked at Catherine warily as she stamped around the bar, spraying luminal on the floor.
"Want to tell me about it, Cath?"
"Nothing to tell." Catherine's voice was testy.
"You're angry at Grissom."
"No, I'm not."
Warrick grinned, but his tone was sympathetic. "Yes you are. You called him Grissom before we left, and you haven't called him Grissom in weeks. He was right, you know. We should have done this last night. Don't take it so personally."
"How am I supposed to take it when he practically accuses me of not doing my job properly?"
"What are you talking about, Catherine. He just told us to come back and check it out. He didn't accuse you - or me - of anything." Warrick was genuinely surprised. "I think you're reading this the wrong way."
"You would say that, you're a man." Catherine snapped. She looked at Warrick when he didn't respond, prepared to elaborate, but stopped when she saw the amused expression on his face. "What's so funny?"
"I'm not laughing at you Catherine. But, c'mon. Cut Grissom some slack. He's still your supervisor, even if you are in a relationship now."
Catherine sputtered. "What? How -"
"You leave work together. You come to work together. Grissom is nicer to everyone, and you're - softer. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out - only a forensic scientist." His tone was light, his eyes teasing. "Personally, I think it's great and I'm happy for the both of you. But you can't take it personally when he tells you to do something. That's his job. And we did skip a step."
Catherine had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yeah. You're right." She smiled at Warrick suddenly. "Sorry about the man crack."
"De Nada." Warrick waved his hands nonchalantly. "You finished with the luminal?"
"Yeah. Grab the camera. I'll hit the lights."
Warrick did as he was told, looking around the suddenly dark room as Catherine shone the blue light over the floor. A small number of dots and drips could be seen tracking along the floors' outer edges, and a small half circle of blood clearly outlined where the can or bucket had been placed. Warrick quickly started snapping pictures, humming to himself. When he got closer to the ring of blood, he stopped.
"Catherine. Come here. We got a partial footprint."
Catherine smiled as she approached Warrick. "God, I hate it when Gil is right."
________