XXVI - BEDTIME STORIES
"I want all these tools," Grissom stated unequivocally, smiling grimly when Sara tried not to flinch at the site of the various blades, knives and scrappers arrayed around the butcher's room.
"Right on it," she muttered, turning to Catherine with a weary look, "this is going to be fun."
"Langdon, how much of this was here when you interviewed Mr. Winters about Eric?"
"This room was here. The tools too. I know there were meat hooks, but have no idea how many. The drainage area over there is new."
"You said you never got a tour of the icehouse, so we'll head over there in a few minutes. Is the smokehouse nearby?"
"If memory serves correctly, sir, it should be right next door. As I said, they were just pouring the foundation."
Grissom turned to Brass. "Are we going to be getting the radar - I want to sweep the foundation in the smokehouse for young Eric."
Brass nodded, "On it's way."
"Good. Warrick and Nick are headed over too. Cath - Sara, when you're finished collecting the tools, take them back to the lab with the rest of the stuff you've collected and start testing them with Greg," he turned towards Enoch, eyes narrowing. "I understand you're a professional tanner, Mr. Winters. Care to show us where you keep your tools?"
* * * * *
"Grissom - we're here. Where do you want us to start?" Nick's chipper tone invaded the small tanning room, causing Grissom to look up from his perusal of the thin blades before him.
"Nick. Warrick -" he nodded to the two men, "the radar scanner just arrived a couple of minutes ago. You've got experience using it, Nick, so I want you two to start in the smokehouse, see if you find anything in the foundation. Move outwards from there."
"Sure thing, boss." Warrick drawled. He turned to look at Enoch, a hard smile crossing his face, "Mr. Winters."
Enoch scowled at him, but didn't respond.
"Did you two talk to Sara and Catherine on your way through?" Grissom asked suddenly.
"Yeah - they were just finishing with the tool collection. They're heading back to the lab in about 10 minutes or so," Nick responded.
"On your way to the smokehouse, could you tell them to come and get these tools as well? I'll keep collecting them, and we'll join you in bit."
"Not a problem," Nick turned to Warrick. "You ever seen one of these resonance machines in action yet? They're pretty interesting. If you pay close attention, I might let you push it for awhile."
Warrick smiled at the gentle teasing, "That's grunt work - you're area man."
* * * * *
The ringing of Greg's phone caught him by surprise. It was so rare anyone called him at work, it took him a few minutes to figure out the Charlie Brown theme song was coming from his cell.
"Yello - Greg here," he answered as he picked it up. "Hey, Alli! What are you doing calling me at -" he checked out his watch "-2:30 am in the morning?"
He moved down to the lounge as he listened to her chatter, smiling as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "Yeah, I understand all about insomnia. Being a chronic sufferer myself - well, not lately," his tone was wry, and he shook his head, knowing she couldn't see his sudden frown. "Maybe it's because I'm not drinking 30 cups of coffee a day anymore."
He held the phone away from his ear slightly, at her sudden squawk, "Thirty cups of coffee a day? Were you trying to give yourself a heart attack?" The sudden uncomfortable silence from her end of the phone was deafening. "Oh my God, Greg - I shouldn't have said that."
"Common expression," Greg shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. "So, if it's not too personal, what do you normally do when you can't sleep?"
"I paint, or I sketch. I'm sketching right now, as we're talking."
"Really? What?"
"I'm practicing my hands."
"Huh?"
"Hands. They're the hardest part of the human body to draw, I think. Poorly drawn hands can destroy a piece. Hands are one of the first things I look at when I meet someone, because everyone's are different."
"That's interesting. Did you - uh - did you look at my hands?"
"Among other things," Alli giggled. "You've got musical hands. I thought that even before I saw your drum kit at your apartment. They're strong hands; but lyrical in their movements. You use them when you talk, but not wildly - they're not flashy, but they are intelligent. Your fingers are long and tapered; capable." She paused suddenly, "I sound like an idiot."
Greg smiled into the receiver, "No, you sound like an artist. I like the way you describe things." He sighed as he sank into the small two-seater in the lounge, enjoying just listening to her breathing on the other end of the line.
"Are you busy tonight?" she asked suddenly.
"No, not really. Although that will change. Grissom has everyone collecting evidence down at some farm, and he told me before he left to expect a deluge. When the get back, I suspect I'll be up to my eyeballs in DNA and pig blood."
"Ick. Don't say anymore, or I will never get to sleep."
"You nervous about starting your new job?"
"Maybe a little. But I still have a whole day before I need to go in. I think I'm just excited about moving. I've been thinking about sleeping under the stars, and I keep wishing I was there now, watching them sway in the air moved by the ceiling fan."
"They are a great cure for insomnia," he admitted, "there's something very relaxing about them." He tried not to smile as he imagined Alli in his apartment, lying in his bed, watching stars.
"I'm really grateful, Greg."
"No need."
A comfortable silence fell between them, before Alli's soft voice broke into his thoughts again, "Would you like to go out for breakfast with me this morning? I could come and get you." Her voice sounded oddly tentative; heart-breakingly young and yet wildly seductive at the same time. Greg smiled.
"Breakfast. To make up for the Wendy's take-out for dinner?"
"No. Just because."
"Should I ask your uncle to join us?"
"You think we need a chaperone for breakfast?"
"Do we?"
Her soft laugh made him smile, "You're a bad boy, Greg. Very bad."
"If only you knew," Greg whispered back. "If we're going to go out for breakfast, you better get to sleep. I don't want you to pass out into a plateful of pancakes of anything."
He heard Alli's answering sigh, "I don't want to say goodbye yet. Will you tell me a story?"
"What?"
"A story. What was your favorite story when you were a kid? Tell me."
Greg smiled. "Okay. You ever hear the story of the Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde? No? Well, picture this: the swallows are leaving Eastern Europe for Egypt, as winter is approaching, and it's time for them to head for warmer climates. One swallow has fallen in love with reed, and refuses to leave with the others, starting the long flight south only when he realizes the reed he loves has roots, and will never leave with him."
He smiled at Alli's soft giggle, before continuing, "He stops for the night, taking refuge in a city under a large golden statue of a handsome prince, who has giant sapphires for eyes, and a beautiful ruby in his sword hilt. The swallow is surprised when the statue of the Happy Prince speaks to him, begging him to pluck the ruby from his sword and take it to a young mother he can see who is working day and night, trying to earn enough money to buy food for her sick and starving son. The swallow, who has a tender heart, agrees, but he vows to leave the next day as the wind is turning bitter.
"Of course, the Happy Prince convinces him to stay, telling the swallow that when he was alive, he lived behind the walls of the castle and was happy because he did not understand suffering. Now that he is dead, and placed up on a pedestal, suffering is all he sees and he longs to do something for the people. He convinces the swallow to take first one eye, and then another. When the little swallow vows to stay with the Prince forever and look after him since he is now blind, he becomes the prince's eyes. Day by day, the swallow - at the prince's urging - strips off the gold covering the Happy Prince and distributes it to the poor around the city, and the children become happy. Soon, all that's left is the iron form of the prince, now ugly without his decorations.
"When the last of the gold is taken, the little swallow tries to fly to the lips of the Happy Prince to kiss him, as he knows he is dying from exposure, but he cannot make it. Instead, he whispers goodbye before he falls to the feet of the statue, dead. From the empty eyes of the statue, two tears fall, and the lead heart deep within cracks in two.
"When winter is almost finished, and spring is returning, the body of the little swallow is found underneath the statue by the men who have come to tear it down. Now that the Happy Prince is no longer beautiful, the people of the city do not want to look at him anymore. The swallow is thrown into a dust heap, and the Happy Prince is smelted down for his iron. The only part about him that does not melt is his broken lead heart, which is tossed on the same dust heap as the dead swallow.
"Later that same day, God calls an angel to his side. 'Angel', he says, 'I want you to go to that city, and bring me the two most precious items you can find there.' The angel eagerly departs, and returns rather quickly with the body of the dead sparrow and the broken heart of the Happy Prince.
"'Angel,' God says, 'you have chosen well. For in my beautiful gardens, this little swallow will sing forever more, and the Happy Prince will praise me.'"
Silence, just the sound of breathing on the other end of the line. "Alli, are you still awake?" Greg whispered.
"Yes, I'm still here," her voice was soft, husky with emotion. "That was a great story. I'll have to read it someday. Was it really your favorite when you were little?"
"Yeah. It really was."
Greg could feel Alli's smile on the other end of the phone, "Are you going to go to sleep now?"
"I'll go to sleep and dream of the Happy Prince," she murmured, suddenly yawning. "When should I be there to pick you up for breakfast?"
"Eight. Is that too early?"
"No. Only five more hours. Goodnight, Greg."
"Goodnight, Alli."
________
Author's Note: Okay, I'm starting to get back on track here. Sorry for the delay, but it's really hard to reconcile yourself to losing a lot of work because you were to darn stupid to back-up! Look for the next chapter within the next day or so!
"I want all these tools," Grissom stated unequivocally, smiling grimly when Sara tried not to flinch at the site of the various blades, knives and scrappers arrayed around the butcher's room.
"Right on it," she muttered, turning to Catherine with a weary look, "this is going to be fun."
"Langdon, how much of this was here when you interviewed Mr. Winters about Eric?"
"This room was here. The tools too. I know there were meat hooks, but have no idea how many. The drainage area over there is new."
"You said you never got a tour of the icehouse, so we'll head over there in a few minutes. Is the smokehouse nearby?"
"If memory serves correctly, sir, it should be right next door. As I said, they were just pouring the foundation."
Grissom turned to Brass. "Are we going to be getting the radar - I want to sweep the foundation in the smokehouse for young Eric."
Brass nodded, "On it's way."
"Good. Warrick and Nick are headed over too. Cath - Sara, when you're finished collecting the tools, take them back to the lab with the rest of the stuff you've collected and start testing them with Greg," he turned towards Enoch, eyes narrowing. "I understand you're a professional tanner, Mr. Winters. Care to show us where you keep your tools?"
* * * * *
"Grissom - we're here. Where do you want us to start?" Nick's chipper tone invaded the small tanning room, causing Grissom to look up from his perusal of the thin blades before him.
"Nick. Warrick -" he nodded to the two men, "the radar scanner just arrived a couple of minutes ago. You've got experience using it, Nick, so I want you two to start in the smokehouse, see if you find anything in the foundation. Move outwards from there."
"Sure thing, boss." Warrick drawled. He turned to look at Enoch, a hard smile crossing his face, "Mr. Winters."
Enoch scowled at him, but didn't respond.
"Did you two talk to Sara and Catherine on your way through?" Grissom asked suddenly.
"Yeah - they were just finishing with the tool collection. They're heading back to the lab in about 10 minutes or so," Nick responded.
"On your way to the smokehouse, could you tell them to come and get these tools as well? I'll keep collecting them, and we'll join you in bit."
"Not a problem," Nick turned to Warrick. "You ever seen one of these resonance machines in action yet? They're pretty interesting. If you pay close attention, I might let you push it for awhile."
Warrick smiled at the gentle teasing, "That's grunt work - you're area man."
* * * * *
The ringing of Greg's phone caught him by surprise. It was so rare anyone called him at work, it took him a few minutes to figure out the Charlie Brown theme song was coming from his cell.
"Yello - Greg here," he answered as he picked it up. "Hey, Alli! What are you doing calling me at -" he checked out his watch "-2:30 am in the morning?"
He moved down to the lounge as he listened to her chatter, smiling as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "Yeah, I understand all about insomnia. Being a chronic sufferer myself - well, not lately," his tone was wry, and he shook his head, knowing she couldn't see his sudden frown. "Maybe it's because I'm not drinking 30 cups of coffee a day anymore."
He held the phone away from his ear slightly, at her sudden squawk, "Thirty cups of coffee a day? Were you trying to give yourself a heart attack?" The sudden uncomfortable silence from her end of the phone was deafening. "Oh my God, Greg - I shouldn't have said that."
"Common expression," Greg shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. "So, if it's not too personal, what do you normally do when you can't sleep?"
"I paint, or I sketch. I'm sketching right now, as we're talking."
"Really? What?"
"I'm practicing my hands."
"Huh?"
"Hands. They're the hardest part of the human body to draw, I think. Poorly drawn hands can destroy a piece. Hands are one of the first things I look at when I meet someone, because everyone's are different."
"That's interesting. Did you - uh - did you look at my hands?"
"Among other things," Alli giggled. "You've got musical hands. I thought that even before I saw your drum kit at your apartment. They're strong hands; but lyrical in their movements. You use them when you talk, but not wildly - they're not flashy, but they are intelligent. Your fingers are long and tapered; capable." She paused suddenly, "I sound like an idiot."
Greg smiled into the receiver, "No, you sound like an artist. I like the way you describe things." He sighed as he sank into the small two-seater in the lounge, enjoying just listening to her breathing on the other end of the line.
"Are you busy tonight?" she asked suddenly.
"No, not really. Although that will change. Grissom has everyone collecting evidence down at some farm, and he told me before he left to expect a deluge. When the get back, I suspect I'll be up to my eyeballs in DNA and pig blood."
"Ick. Don't say anymore, or I will never get to sleep."
"You nervous about starting your new job?"
"Maybe a little. But I still have a whole day before I need to go in. I think I'm just excited about moving. I've been thinking about sleeping under the stars, and I keep wishing I was there now, watching them sway in the air moved by the ceiling fan."
"They are a great cure for insomnia," he admitted, "there's something very relaxing about them." He tried not to smile as he imagined Alli in his apartment, lying in his bed, watching stars.
"I'm really grateful, Greg."
"No need."
A comfortable silence fell between them, before Alli's soft voice broke into his thoughts again, "Would you like to go out for breakfast with me this morning? I could come and get you." Her voice sounded oddly tentative; heart-breakingly young and yet wildly seductive at the same time. Greg smiled.
"Breakfast. To make up for the Wendy's take-out for dinner?"
"No. Just because."
"Should I ask your uncle to join us?"
"You think we need a chaperone for breakfast?"
"Do we?"
Her soft laugh made him smile, "You're a bad boy, Greg. Very bad."
"If only you knew," Greg whispered back. "If we're going to go out for breakfast, you better get to sleep. I don't want you to pass out into a plateful of pancakes of anything."
He heard Alli's answering sigh, "I don't want to say goodbye yet. Will you tell me a story?"
"What?"
"A story. What was your favorite story when you were a kid? Tell me."
Greg smiled. "Okay. You ever hear the story of the Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde? No? Well, picture this: the swallows are leaving Eastern Europe for Egypt, as winter is approaching, and it's time for them to head for warmer climates. One swallow has fallen in love with reed, and refuses to leave with the others, starting the long flight south only when he realizes the reed he loves has roots, and will never leave with him."
He smiled at Alli's soft giggle, before continuing, "He stops for the night, taking refuge in a city under a large golden statue of a handsome prince, who has giant sapphires for eyes, and a beautiful ruby in his sword hilt. The swallow is surprised when the statue of the Happy Prince speaks to him, begging him to pluck the ruby from his sword and take it to a young mother he can see who is working day and night, trying to earn enough money to buy food for her sick and starving son. The swallow, who has a tender heart, agrees, but he vows to leave the next day as the wind is turning bitter.
"Of course, the Happy Prince convinces him to stay, telling the swallow that when he was alive, he lived behind the walls of the castle and was happy because he did not understand suffering. Now that he is dead, and placed up on a pedestal, suffering is all he sees and he longs to do something for the people. He convinces the swallow to take first one eye, and then another. When the little swallow vows to stay with the Prince forever and look after him since he is now blind, he becomes the prince's eyes. Day by day, the swallow - at the prince's urging - strips off the gold covering the Happy Prince and distributes it to the poor around the city, and the children become happy. Soon, all that's left is the iron form of the prince, now ugly without his decorations.
"When the last of the gold is taken, the little swallow tries to fly to the lips of the Happy Prince to kiss him, as he knows he is dying from exposure, but he cannot make it. Instead, he whispers goodbye before he falls to the feet of the statue, dead. From the empty eyes of the statue, two tears fall, and the lead heart deep within cracks in two.
"When winter is almost finished, and spring is returning, the body of the little swallow is found underneath the statue by the men who have come to tear it down. Now that the Happy Prince is no longer beautiful, the people of the city do not want to look at him anymore. The swallow is thrown into a dust heap, and the Happy Prince is smelted down for his iron. The only part about him that does not melt is his broken lead heart, which is tossed on the same dust heap as the dead swallow.
"Later that same day, God calls an angel to his side. 'Angel', he says, 'I want you to go to that city, and bring me the two most precious items you can find there.' The angel eagerly departs, and returns rather quickly with the body of the dead sparrow and the broken heart of the Happy Prince.
"'Angel,' God says, 'you have chosen well. For in my beautiful gardens, this little swallow will sing forever more, and the Happy Prince will praise me.'"
Silence, just the sound of breathing on the other end of the line. "Alli, are you still awake?" Greg whispered.
"Yes, I'm still here," her voice was soft, husky with emotion. "That was a great story. I'll have to read it someday. Was it really your favorite when you were little?"
"Yeah. It really was."
Greg could feel Alli's smile on the other end of the phone, "Are you going to go to sleep now?"
"I'll go to sleep and dream of the Happy Prince," she murmured, suddenly yawning. "When should I be there to pick you up for breakfast?"
"Eight. Is that too early?"
"No. Only five more hours. Goodnight, Greg."
"Goodnight, Alli."
________
Author's Note: Okay, I'm starting to get back on track here. Sorry for the delay, but it's really hard to reconcile yourself to losing a lot of work because you were to darn stupid to back-up! Look for the next chapter within the next day or so!