VI - UP ON THE ROOF
Mr. Miles looked at the approaching CSIs in much the same manor he had less than 8 hours ago, frowning in agitation when Nick explained to them what they needed.
"I was planning on having that side of the building cleaned today," Miles whined.
Nick just grinned at him, "Well, it's a good thing you didn't - now, we don't have to charge you for tampering with a crime scene. May we use your window washing cage again?"
Mr. Miles looked like he was ready to object, when Sara broke in, "The sooner we get the evidence collected, the sooner we're out of here."
Miles sighed, "Fine then. You remember Mr. Powers?" he looked at Nick and tried not to scowl, "I'll get him to take you up."
* * * * *
Grissom approached Mr. van der Brucke slowly, studying the man intently. He was sitting in a high backed arm chair to the side of the lobby, hands folded in his laps, staring blankly into space.
"Mr. van der Brucke?" he kept his tone neutral, noticing the slight flicker in the man's eyes when he heard his name. Grissom came to a stop a few feet from him, "Thank you for coming in to speak with me. I'm sure Catherine and Brass already have asked you some of the questions I'm going to, so I apologize in advance."
Van der Brucke sighed, "As I said to your colleagues Mr. Grissom, I will answer as many questions as you want me to, if it helps you find who killed my Audra."
Grissom smiled grimly, and sat in an armchair next to van der Brucke's. Leaning forwards and too the side slightly, he propped his elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him.
"What time was Audra supposed to meet her friend?"
"I left at 6:00. Marta was supposed to meet her around 7:30 -8:00."
"Was Marta meeting her here, in the lobby? Or at a restaurant?"
"No. Audra said Marta was going to have the concierge call up when she arrived. She wanted to see the penthouse."
Grissom grabbed a little note book from his pocket, and quickly made a couple of notes. "I'm not sure if Marta ever arrived," he said, when van der Brucke glanced at his notebook, "and we haven't been able to reach her." He paused for a moment, weighing his words carefully, "I don't think your wife ever left the penthouse. The clothes laid out on the bed were not touched, and there were no other clothes around that would indicate she'd changed recently."
A silence fell between the two men, Grissom making mental notes to speak with Mr. Miles again, and van der Brucke thinking about what Grissom had just revealed. "She wasn't supposed to be there."
Grissom nodded, "I don't think your wife was a target, Mr. van der Brucke. I think she was an obstacle. The person who killed her was after your diamonds, and your wife got in the way." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, "As well as you can remember, who knew that Mrs. van der Brucke was meeting her friend tonight, and that you would be out on business."
Van der Brucke shrugged, "Outside of Audra and I, the only other person who knew was Marta. She's the one that called to make the arrangements."
"And how did your wife know Marta?"
"They modeled together. They were room-mates in Paris. They've known each other for years," van der Brucke paused, closing his eyes against the sudden image of his wife's face. "That's were Audra and I met. In Paris. I actually knew Marta first - she's a little bit older than my wife."
Grissom's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "Were you and Marta involved?"
Van der Brucke looked at Grissom, shaking his head. "I took her out a couple of times; just friendly dates. I thought she was too young for me -" he smiled grimly at that, "-and then I met Audra at a dinner party she had one night. She was definitely too young for me, but I fell. Hard."
"How did Marta react?"
"You mean, was she jealous?" van der Brucke's tone was self-depreciating, "She had her choice of men. She was fine - very happy for Audra. She's been a good friend, to both of us. Very supportive. Not a lot of people were, when our relationship first became public. I wasn't very supportive either, when it comes right down to it. I fell in love with a girl young enough to be my daughter. I was an older man, bachelor-for-life, married to my job. I had a reputation to think about, and I thought that no matter what I felt for Audra what she felt was just infatuation. I discounted her feelings, questioned them. How could a beautiful young woman like her fall for a man like me?" van der Brucke's question was rhetorical, his voice sad. "I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her, but I fought it for two years. I regret that so much now - wasted time, when we could have been together."
He looked at Grissom, eyes intent, "Do you know what it's like, Mr. Grissom, to want someone - to love someone - and to be too afraid to act on it?" He sighed when Grissom flinched slightly at his words, "I can see that you know what I'm talking about. I hope you'll take a word of advice from one who knows - life is too short for regrets, and love should never be turned away."
* * * * *
"You sure you're alright with this, Cath?" Warrick's voice sounded slightly tinny and muffled, coming as it was from behind Catherine and up the narrow shaft of the air vent. They had been escorted back to the penthouse by Mr. Powers, who was on his way to the roof with the rest of the team. Grissom was, presumably, still talking to Mr. van der Brucke.
Catherine grunted as she wiggled forward slightly, adjusting her headset, before hollering back over her shoulder, "Turn your headset on, I can hardly hear you when you talk into the vent." The sudden static buzz of her headset made her grin.
"Cath, that better?"
"Loud and clear, Warrick."
"You sure you're alright with this?"
Catherine wiggled forward on her belly, "Just keep feeding me rope, Warrick. Our pancake couldn't have been a very large man, 'cause this is a tight fit." She saw a flash of light over her shoulder and grinned when she realized that Warrick would be on his knees, looking in the vent after her. "Quit looking at my ass, Warrick, and talk to me. Keep my mind off the enclosed space."
Warrick grunted, "Since your ass is all I can see from this angle, that's gonna be hard to do Cath!"
Catherine grinned, "Well, then, enjoy. You now have the perfect excuse to ogle." When Warrick didn't respond, Catherine rolled her eyes, "Warrick? I'm just teasing you, you know."
"I wish you wouldn't," he responded. "What was that back in the lobby? That whole thing about you, me and tight spaces?"
"You forget the time you forced me to repel down a garbage chute?"
Warrick chuckled, "No one forces you to do anything, Cath. But you realize, if you keep coming out with comments like that, people may get the wrong idea."
Catherine grunted as she slid forward another couple of feet, taking in the area immediately in front of her, looking for evidence. "Wrong idea? What wrong idea would that be?"
"You're a born flirt, Cath."
Catherine laughed, "That's not an answer. Am I giving you ideas?"
Deafening static silence.
"Warrick - am I giving you ideas?"
"Do you want to be?"
"Do you want me too?"
Before Catherine could respond, her eyes narrowed, "I think I've found something."
"What?"
"Fibers - stuck on a screw head. Just a minute," she grunted, shifting carefully and tweezing the strands free, before dropping them in a small baggie. Holding the baggie against her flashlight, she grinned, "Navy blue. Looks like cotton." She moved forwards again, "How long is this shaft here? And I mean that in a non-flirtatious way."
Even though she couldn't see him, she was pretty sure Warrick was rolling his eyes, "It's about 50 feet. You've made it in about 12."
"At this rate, I'll be here all day. Listen, can we talk about what people may think later. You're distracting me."
"Not as much as you're distracting me," Warrick muttered, "not as much as all."
* * * * *
"Wow. This is pretty high," Sara looked over the edge of the window cage and grimaced as she quickly double checked to make sure the safety harness was securely attached to the cross bar.
"Cool," Greg was standing in the corner of the cage, hand shading his eyes from the early morning sun as he scanned the city from this new perspective, "I can see the Trop from here. Looks different in the daylight."
"Look at the building, not the streets," Nick admonished him, "We're roughly 40 stories above the blood stains I swabbed last night. Let's see if we can find any above that."
Greg grinned, "Yes sir. So, our cat burglar climbed down this? That would take balls."
Mr. Powers was at the controls, slowly lowering the cage as the three CSIs carefully examined the windows on the way down. Greg started singing under his breath,
"When this old world starts getting me down And people are just too much for me to face I climb way up to the top of the stairs And all my cares just drift right into space On the roof, it's peaceful as can be And there the world below can't bother me Let me tell you now
When I come home feelin' tired and beat I go up where the air is fresh and sweet - up on the roof - I get away from the hustling crowd And all that rat-race noise down in the street -up on the roof- On the roof, the only place I know Where you just have to wish to make it so Let's go up on the roof -up on the roof-
At night the stars put on a show for free And, darling, you can share it all with me - I keep a-tellin' you
Right smack dab in the middle of town I've found a paradise that's trouble proof -up on the roof- And if this world starts getting you down There's room enough for two Up on the roof -up on the roof- Up on the roof -up on the roof- Oh, come on, baby -up on the roof- Oh, come on, honey -up on the roof-
Everything is all right -up on the roof "
About half way through the song, Nick had joined in, and the two men sang as they looked for blood. Standing between them, Sara grinned.
"Wow - guys. The Drifters. I'm impressed. Just don't start doing dance moves, and we'll all be fine," she turned to Nick. "I didn't know you could sing."
"I am a man of many talents," Nick replied. "My entire family sings - we're like the Texas version of the von Trapps."
A companionable silence fell between the three of them, as they continued to scan the windows. They were at the blood smear now, and Sara turned to Mr. Powers and asked him to stop the cage.
"This is where he was shot," she muttered. "Look at the smear."
"It looks like it dripped a little, down the window. Look beneath," Greg pointed out.
"Absolutely right, Greg. It did run down the glass." Nick stood to the other side of the smear, studying it intently. "From the way the blood splattered, I'd say our shooter would have been about here - blood splattered away from him." He quickly opened his field kit and took out a cotton pad and a small spray bottle, spritzing the area in front of him in a two foot diameter. He smiled when the pad he ran over the area showed black. "Gun powder residue. Greg, take some pictures."
Sara was swabbing the blood again, muttering to herself as she did so. Behind her, the click-whirr of the camera made her start, "Get all the blood you see, Greg. Hope we don't have flash back from the glass."
Greg continued taking pictures, studying the windows of the hotel intently as he prepared each shot. "What's that?" he asked suddenly, turning to Nick.
"What?" Nick stepped forward, and Greg pointed carefully to the black façade between the floors. To the side of the main smear, a small hole, barely noticeable, interrupted the smooth finish.
Nick looked closer at it, before turning to grin at Greg. "Way to go, man. You've found a bullet. Looks like our shooter missed the first time."
______________
Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting, but things have been very hectic. Hope this still continues to intrigue.
Mr. Miles looked at the approaching CSIs in much the same manor he had less than 8 hours ago, frowning in agitation when Nick explained to them what they needed.
"I was planning on having that side of the building cleaned today," Miles whined.
Nick just grinned at him, "Well, it's a good thing you didn't - now, we don't have to charge you for tampering with a crime scene. May we use your window washing cage again?"
Mr. Miles looked like he was ready to object, when Sara broke in, "The sooner we get the evidence collected, the sooner we're out of here."
Miles sighed, "Fine then. You remember Mr. Powers?" he looked at Nick and tried not to scowl, "I'll get him to take you up."
* * * * *
Grissom approached Mr. van der Brucke slowly, studying the man intently. He was sitting in a high backed arm chair to the side of the lobby, hands folded in his laps, staring blankly into space.
"Mr. van der Brucke?" he kept his tone neutral, noticing the slight flicker in the man's eyes when he heard his name. Grissom came to a stop a few feet from him, "Thank you for coming in to speak with me. I'm sure Catherine and Brass already have asked you some of the questions I'm going to, so I apologize in advance."
Van der Brucke sighed, "As I said to your colleagues Mr. Grissom, I will answer as many questions as you want me to, if it helps you find who killed my Audra."
Grissom smiled grimly, and sat in an armchair next to van der Brucke's. Leaning forwards and too the side slightly, he propped his elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him.
"What time was Audra supposed to meet her friend?"
"I left at 6:00. Marta was supposed to meet her around 7:30 -8:00."
"Was Marta meeting her here, in the lobby? Or at a restaurant?"
"No. Audra said Marta was going to have the concierge call up when she arrived. She wanted to see the penthouse."
Grissom grabbed a little note book from his pocket, and quickly made a couple of notes. "I'm not sure if Marta ever arrived," he said, when van der Brucke glanced at his notebook, "and we haven't been able to reach her." He paused for a moment, weighing his words carefully, "I don't think your wife ever left the penthouse. The clothes laid out on the bed were not touched, and there were no other clothes around that would indicate she'd changed recently."
A silence fell between the two men, Grissom making mental notes to speak with Mr. Miles again, and van der Brucke thinking about what Grissom had just revealed. "She wasn't supposed to be there."
Grissom nodded, "I don't think your wife was a target, Mr. van der Brucke. I think she was an obstacle. The person who killed her was after your diamonds, and your wife got in the way." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, "As well as you can remember, who knew that Mrs. van der Brucke was meeting her friend tonight, and that you would be out on business."
Van der Brucke shrugged, "Outside of Audra and I, the only other person who knew was Marta. She's the one that called to make the arrangements."
"And how did your wife know Marta?"
"They modeled together. They were room-mates in Paris. They've known each other for years," van der Brucke paused, closing his eyes against the sudden image of his wife's face. "That's were Audra and I met. In Paris. I actually knew Marta first - she's a little bit older than my wife."
Grissom's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "Were you and Marta involved?"
Van der Brucke looked at Grissom, shaking his head. "I took her out a couple of times; just friendly dates. I thought she was too young for me -" he smiled grimly at that, "-and then I met Audra at a dinner party she had one night. She was definitely too young for me, but I fell. Hard."
"How did Marta react?"
"You mean, was she jealous?" van der Brucke's tone was self-depreciating, "She had her choice of men. She was fine - very happy for Audra. She's been a good friend, to both of us. Very supportive. Not a lot of people were, when our relationship first became public. I wasn't very supportive either, when it comes right down to it. I fell in love with a girl young enough to be my daughter. I was an older man, bachelor-for-life, married to my job. I had a reputation to think about, and I thought that no matter what I felt for Audra what she felt was just infatuation. I discounted her feelings, questioned them. How could a beautiful young woman like her fall for a man like me?" van der Brucke's question was rhetorical, his voice sad. "I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her, but I fought it for two years. I regret that so much now - wasted time, when we could have been together."
He looked at Grissom, eyes intent, "Do you know what it's like, Mr. Grissom, to want someone - to love someone - and to be too afraid to act on it?" He sighed when Grissom flinched slightly at his words, "I can see that you know what I'm talking about. I hope you'll take a word of advice from one who knows - life is too short for regrets, and love should never be turned away."
* * * * *
"You sure you're alright with this, Cath?" Warrick's voice sounded slightly tinny and muffled, coming as it was from behind Catherine and up the narrow shaft of the air vent. They had been escorted back to the penthouse by Mr. Powers, who was on his way to the roof with the rest of the team. Grissom was, presumably, still talking to Mr. van der Brucke.
Catherine grunted as she wiggled forward slightly, adjusting her headset, before hollering back over her shoulder, "Turn your headset on, I can hardly hear you when you talk into the vent." The sudden static buzz of her headset made her grin.
"Cath, that better?"
"Loud and clear, Warrick."
"You sure you're alright with this?"
Catherine wiggled forward on her belly, "Just keep feeding me rope, Warrick. Our pancake couldn't have been a very large man, 'cause this is a tight fit." She saw a flash of light over her shoulder and grinned when she realized that Warrick would be on his knees, looking in the vent after her. "Quit looking at my ass, Warrick, and talk to me. Keep my mind off the enclosed space."
Warrick grunted, "Since your ass is all I can see from this angle, that's gonna be hard to do Cath!"
Catherine grinned, "Well, then, enjoy. You now have the perfect excuse to ogle." When Warrick didn't respond, Catherine rolled her eyes, "Warrick? I'm just teasing you, you know."
"I wish you wouldn't," he responded. "What was that back in the lobby? That whole thing about you, me and tight spaces?"
"You forget the time you forced me to repel down a garbage chute?"
Warrick chuckled, "No one forces you to do anything, Cath. But you realize, if you keep coming out with comments like that, people may get the wrong idea."
Catherine grunted as she slid forward another couple of feet, taking in the area immediately in front of her, looking for evidence. "Wrong idea? What wrong idea would that be?"
"You're a born flirt, Cath."
Catherine laughed, "That's not an answer. Am I giving you ideas?"
Deafening static silence.
"Warrick - am I giving you ideas?"
"Do you want to be?"
"Do you want me too?"
Before Catherine could respond, her eyes narrowed, "I think I've found something."
"What?"
"Fibers - stuck on a screw head. Just a minute," she grunted, shifting carefully and tweezing the strands free, before dropping them in a small baggie. Holding the baggie against her flashlight, she grinned, "Navy blue. Looks like cotton." She moved forwards again, "How long is this shaft here? And I mean that in a non-flirtatious way."
Even though she couldn't see him, she was pretty sure Warrick was rolling his eyes, "It's about 50 feet. You've made it in about 12."
"At this rate, I'll be here all day. Listen, can we talk about what people may think later. You're distracting me."
"Not as much as you're distracting me," Warrick muttered, "not as much as all."
* * * * *
"Wow. This is pretty high," Sara looked over the edge of the window cage and grimaced as she quickly double checked to make sure the safety harness was securely attached to the cross bar.
"Cool," Greg was standing in the corner of the cage, hand shading his eyes from the early morning sun as he scanned the city from this new perspective, "I can see the Trop from here. Looks different in the daylight."
"Look at the building, not the streets," Nick admonished him, "We're roughly 40 stories above the blood stains I swabbed last night. Let's see if we can find any above that."
Greg grinned, "Yes sir. So, our cat burglar climbed down this? That would take balls."
Mr. Powers was at the controls, slowly lowering the cage as the three CSIs carefully examined the windows on the way down. Greg started singing under his breath,
"When this old world starts getting me down And people are just too much for me to face I climb way up to the top of the stairs And all my cares just drift right into space On the roof, it's peaceful as can be And there the world below can't bother me Let me tell you now
When I come home feelin' tired and beat I go up where the air is fresh and sweet - up on the roof - I get away from the hustling crowd And all that rat-race noise down in the street -up on the roof- On the roof, the only place I know Where you just have to wish to make it so Let's go up on the roof -up on the roof-
At night the stars put on a show for free And, darling, you can share it all with me - I keep a-tellin' you
Right smack dab in the middle of town I've found a paradise that's trouble proof -up on the roof- And if this world starts getting you down There's room enough for two Up on the roof -up on the roof- Up on the roof -up on the roof- Oh, come on, baby -up on the roof- Oh, come on, honey -up on the roof-
Everything is all right -up on the roof "
About half way through the song, Nick had joined in, and the two men sang as they looked for blood. Standing between them, Sara grinned.
"Wow - guys. The Drifters. I'm impressed. Just don't start doing dance moves, and we'll all be fine," she turned to Nick. "I didn't know you could sing."
"I am a man of many talents," Nick replied. "My entire family sings - we're like the Texas version of the von Trapps."
A companionable silence fell between the three of them, as they continued to scan the windows. They were at the blood smear now, and Sara turned to Mr. Powers and asked him to stop the cage.
"This is where he was shot," she muttered. "Look at the smear."
"It looks like it dripped a little, down the window. Look beneath," Greg pointed out.
"Absolutely right, Greg. It did run down the glass." Nick stood to the other side of the smear, studying it intently. "From the way the blood splattered, I'd say our shooter would have been about here - blood splattered away from him." He quickly opened his field kit and took out a cotton pad and a small spray bottle, spritzing the area in front of him in a two foot diameter. He smiled when the pad he ran over the area showed black. "Gun powder residue. Greg, take some pictures."
Sara was swabbing the blood again, muttering to herself as she did so. Behind her, the click-whirr of the camera made her start, "Get all the blood you see, Greg. Hope we don't have flash back from the glass."
Greg continued taking pictures, studying the windows of the hotel intently as he prepared each shot. "What's that?" he asked suddenly, turning to Nick.
"What?" Nick stepped forward, and Greg pointed carefully to the black façade between the floors. To the side of the main smear, a small hole, barely noticeable, interrupted the smooth finish.
Nick looked closer at it, before turning to grin at Greg. "Way to go, man. You've found a bullet. Looks like our shooter missed the first time."
______________
Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting, but things have been very hectic. Hope this still continues to intrigue.