***************************************************
Catherine strolled casually into the meeting room where she found Warrick, Sara and Grissom all in attendance with a television and video recorder set up in the middle of the room.
"Did you guys get Nick's page?" she inquired, which was a useless question, since it was obvious by their presence that they had.
"Yeah, he asked us to meet him here," Sara remarked, averting her gaze to the floor and trying to keep her face from flushing in Grissom's company. Grissom appeared very solemn and quiet sitting to her left.
"I wonder what's up?" Warrick mused aloud.
Nick, holding a black video tape in his hands, came bounding into the room as excited as a child on Christmas morning. "You guys are never going to believe what I found out."
"Try us," Catherine returned with a smirk.
The anticipation of the group extended awhile longer as Nick inserted the tape, fiddled with the video machine, and changed the television station so they could watch the tape.
"I was in ballistics talking to the technician about the thirty-two bullet fragments," he began, while fast forwarding through commercials and junk on the screen. "He was able to assess that the second casing had a partial print and the two bullets came from the same gun, and while he was talking, he mentioned seeing a report about the shooting at Mirabella's on the eleven o'clock news. So, I got to thinking about it and. . . "
"Stop with the teaser already, what did you find out?" Sara sounded exasperated but showed a smile.
"Patience, patience, my dear," he answered, slyly. "You present your way, I'll present mine, O.k.?" Nick blinded everyone again with that huge grin. "I got to thinking that the television station probably filmed the front of the restaurant not long after the murders occurred." He paused the tape suddenly. "O.k. Now watch this part carefully, right behind the news guy, ready?" He pressed play. "Look, can you see her?"
"Whoa," Warrick exclaimed and moved in for a closer look. "It's her, Maggie Peterson, our victim from the hotel parking lot."
"Yep." Nick beamed like he had just solved the riddle of the universe. "She was at the restaurant the same time that Teri was shot."
"I suspected it awhile ago after something Sara said about the women sharing a lot of the same physical traits," Catherine announced, nodding her head. "I was beginning to think that Teri's death might have been a case of mistaken identity. If both women were at Mirabella's at the same time, someone might have killed Teri thinking she was Mrs. Peterson."
Grissom just stared at the screen without saying anything.
"Griss?" Catherine asked. "Do you have an opinion about this?"
"I was just thinking about the fragility of life and how something as insignificant as someone's appearance could be the single cause of his or her death. It's too bad Teri wasn't a short brunette, if only for tonight." He sighed at the futility of the entire situation. "Good work, Nick, everyone. I appreciate you keeping me involved in the investigation. I still have some things to finish up in my office." He glanced around the room at his team and attempted to smile. He held his gaze on Sara a little longer than the rest and made his way back to his office.
The group was silent until Grissom left the room. "He's really broken up about this," Nick announced.
"Underneath that calm and cool exterior is a very sensitive man," Catherine stated, gently. They all nodded in agreement. "Nice job, Nick, let's get back to work," she finished and the night shift started to break up once again. Catherine noticed as Sara watched the door that Grissom had exited through, even after he was gone for a few minutes.
"Sara?" she asked. "You O.k.?"
"Yeah," she answered quickly. "Just thinking. Let's get back to work."
**********************************************************************
"Fingerprints, fingerprints," Greg remarked, sitting on his favorite chair in the analysis lab. "My kingdom for some really clear fingerprints."
"You mean you can't make anything out of this?" Nick asked with concern as Warrick stood next to him, both looking as impatient as they always did when dealing with Greg Sanders, the King of the Jokers. "Just come out with it, man."
"I have the two partials that you gave me from each of the thirty-two casings; I scanned them into A.F.I.S. separately but there was not enough of each to get a match. So. . ." Greg grinned innocently at his hesitation. Life was good when he could torture these guys.
"So, what, Sanders?" Warrick had an irritated tone edging in his voice; he and Nick exchanged an exasperated glance.
"So, I used a computer program that enables me to combine both partial fingerprints in an attempt to construct a full or near-full print." He stopped again with a big smile and the silence was thick with anticipation.
"Damn it, man. Did you get a full print or not?" Nick could no longer hide his annoyance.
"Glad you asked. Yes, I did get a full print and it matched up to a man you would be very interested in speaking to."
"Greg," Warrick spoke very slowly and softly. "You don't want me to beat this information out of you, do you?"
"I'll help you," Nick said, making a fist and taking a step toward Greg, whose facial expression turned quickly from smart-ass to scared-ass.
"Um, O.k., relax, guys. Where's your sense of drama? The print came back that it belonged to a convicted felon named Will Castor, who was incarcerated for, get this, 'murder for hire'. Pretty cool, huh?"
"Will Castor. How long has he been out of prison?"
"Two years without any further incidence, apparently. He's met his parole requirements and has been a model citizen until now," Greg explained.
"I'll call Brass to bring him in." Warrick pulled out his cell phone and dialed the detective's number. "Brass should also be able get us a warrant to search his vehicle and property, too."
Sara entered the analysis lab. "Anybody seen Catherine?" she asked. "I needed to talk to her for a second." By the pensive expression on her face, her manner had turned intense quite suddenly.
Nick was about to answer in the negative when Catherine stalked into the lab with serious determination and a dangerous, feral look in her eyes. All the heads of the entire C.S.I. team in attendance snapped up to attention; they were all caught between concern for Catherine and fear for their own lives since each one hoped that he or she was not the cause of her anger. She held up her hands in severe annoyance and spoke carefully and emphatically.
"If I get one more call on a shooting for the rest of the night, someone please shoot me."
"Another one?" Warrick remarked, incredulously. "You have got to be kidding."
"No, it must be the official celebration of the Second Amendment tonight. This one appears to be a suicide in a residential home. Warrick, please come with me. Sara and Nick, stay here and keep working, I'll keep you apprised of what is going on. "
Warrick followed Catherine to her car, with discomfort, since he knew their being alone for awhile would give them an opportunity to discuss some recent personal business between them. He had almost started a conversation in that direction at Mirabella's earlier, but he decided to put it off since things had become really strange with them. He tried to judge what she might be thinking by her behavior, which wasn't exactly cold towards him, but not the warm Catherine with which he had become comfortable. She unlocked the doors and climbed into the car while Warrick stood outside the passenger door a moment trying to extend the time before they would have to talk; Catherine looked at him through the side window curiously and he finally gained enough courage to get inside the vehicle. He positioned himself into the passenger seat and struggled with his seatbelt when he realized that Catherine still had her gaze on him. He glanced over at the attractive redhead, nervously.
"Uh, hi," he said, in an attempt to create a lighthearted atmosphere within the car.
The unrelenting stare from those sapphire pools that caused him much vulnerability continued. "You know, I'm not going to bite you. You can get into the car with me."
"I know that," he answered instinctively and hated how his voice came out with a defensive whine.
Catherine's intent look melted a bit into amusement and she finally turned toward her steering wheel and started the car. Warrick was definitely cute when he was uncomfortable and squirmy; it was time to make him more uncomfortable and squirmy.
Warrick figured that, whether there was silence or conversation, both were going to be awkward, so he raced through his brain for something to say; he grasped for some kind of excuse that would be plausible to Catherine.
"You know, you could have just called." Catherine finally said. "I mean, one measly phone call afterward. I don't think that's such a big deal." She started driving in the direction of the crime scene.
Damn, she was quicker than he was and got to the subject first.
"I was going to," he started. "I mean, I just, well." He exhaled audibly. "Catherine, I just didn't know what to say."
She looked over at him impressed by this effect she seemed to have over him. "Do I kiss that badly?" she asked, teasing him mercilessly. "It was only one long kiss after dinner, which I thought went very well."
She could have never imagined that Warrick, who always appeared so cool, collected and sure of himself, would have ever been flustered at anything. She attempted to keep her giggling restrained as she watched him fidget anxiously, not knowing how to proceed or where Catherine might be going with this.
"No! No, you kiss fine, I mean, I liked it, it's just.I've never, you know, started a relationship with a co-worker, that's all."
"Oh, I understand. You just see me as a 'co-worker'." Catherine raked him over the coals some more and grinned inside; she was so evil sometimes.
"No, Catherine, that's not what I mean at all, I meant that I never had a thing going with someone I worked with." It was then that he realized he'd just fallen into the trap she had set; he understood then that she was just playing with his uneasiness. Catherine looked over at him with a big grin and he had to turn his head so she wouldn't see his smile back.
"I really would like to have dinner with you again," she said. "You know, I enjoyed spending time with you outside of work." His striking, light eyes met hers for a moment and he gave her another gentle grin.
"I enjoyed it, too." He broke away from her gaze and looked down at his hands. "How about tomorrow?"
"O.k." she accepted, trying to keep her giddiness from becoming obvious. "Now, that all of that is out of the way, we need to get our heads back on this case."
"Right," Warrick agreed. "Suicide, huh? What did the detectives say?"
"All signs point to an official suicide; the victim even left a suicide note, which contained a really interesting detail. Oh, I think this might be the street coming up." They knew they had the correct house because of the conglomeration of police cars upon the front lawn.
"Interesting detail?" Warrick continued.
"Yes, you'll see when we get inside," she remarked as she parked the car in the driveway.
Warrick and Catherine exited the vehicle and she was surprised to see that Captain Brass wasn't milling around anywhere outside the house. They took the evidence kits out and sauntered up to the front door, flashing identification to the unfamiliar officers, who allowed them entry into the residence.
"You the C.S.I.s?" asked a detective that Catherine recognized but could not place the name at that moment.
"Yes, I'm Catherine Willows, this is my colleague, Warrick Brown. Where's the victim?"
"Upstairs, first room on the right. It seems like a pretty standard suicide. Victim has a gunshot wound on his right temple, and we found a nine millimeter gun on the floor near his right hand. It's pretty messy up there."
"I was told there was a note?"
"Yeah, we left it on the table next to the body; we read it, but nobody touched it."
"Thanks," she answered and started up the stairs with Warrick following behind her.
They arrived at the door to see two police officers conferring outside before they entered the crime scene. She and Warrick took gloves and some small pieces of equipment out of the case. Upon first examination, they found a man with brown hair, dressed in very nice clothes, seated in a chair with his body leaning forward and his head upon the table which was covered with blood and beginning to drip onto the floor. A suit jacket that matched the man's pants, was strewn over the back of the chair. Catherine, seeing a sheet of paper next to the victim, moved carefully into the room, stepping over assorted items like papers and dirty clothes and picked it up at the corner with a pair of tweezers. She read it aloud to Warrick, who was beginning to take pictures of various parts of the room.
"'I am so sorry, please find it in your heart to forgive me, Betty. I hurt all those people at the restaurant, I'm so sorry. Matthew.' Betty must be his wife or girlfriend?" She put the letter in a plastic bag and noticed a full bottle of pills on a dresser near the table; she picked it up and read the label. "Anti-depressants. The date on the bottle indicates that he filled this prescription a few weeks ago, but it doesn't appear that he took any of them. Does this guy have a history of mental illness?"
A police officer standing outside answered that question. "We found out he was seeing a psychiatrist and his wife told us he had suffered from severe depression and a few other things for a long time now. He lost his job a few weeks ago and applied at Mirabella's, but they didn't hire him. Combined with the fact that he'd stopped taking his medicine, he must have just gone on a rampage. Such a terrible thing."
"You think he's really our shooter? He does match the description the witnesses gave," Warrick assessed, taking a closer picture of the table and wall.
Catherine sighed. "He probably is, but we'll know for sure after all this evidence gets processed. There's nothing here to suggest that the suicide was staged." She cautiously lifted the gun and placed it in another plastic bag.
Catherine and Warrick spent a few more hours gathering evidence and taking pictures before heading back to the lab, exhausted after such a grueling night of work.
************************************************************************
Catherine strolled casually into the meeting room where she found Warrick, Sara and Grissom all in attendance with a television and video recorder set up in the middle of the room.
"Did you guys get Nick's page?" she inquired, which was a useless question, since it was obvious by their presence that they had.
"Yeah, he asked us to meet him here," Sara remarked, averting her gaze to the floor and trying to keep her face from flushing in Grissom's company. Grissom appeared very solemn and quiet sitting to her left.
"I wonder what's up?" Warrick mused aloud.
Nick, holding a black video tape in his hands, came bounding into the room as excited as a child on Christmas morning. "You guys are never going to believe what I found out."
"Try us," Catherine returned with a smirk.
The anticipation of the group extended awhile longer as Nick inserted the tape, fiddled with the video machine, and changed the television station so they could watch the tape.
"I was in ballistics talking to the technician about the thirty-two bullet fragments," he began, while fast forwarding through commercials and junk on the screen. "He was able to assess that the second casing had a partial print and the two bullets came from the same gun, and while he was talking, he mentioned seeing a report about the shooting at Mirabella's on the eleven o'clock news. So, I got to thinking about it and. . . "
"Stop with the teaser already, what did you find out?" Sara sounded exasperated but showed a smile.
"Patience, patience, my dear," he answered, slyly. "You present your way, I'll present mine, O.k.?" Nick blinded everyone again with that huge grin. "I got to thinking that the television station probably filmed the front of the restaurant not long after the murders occurred." He paused the tape suddenly. "O.k. Now watch this part carefully, right behind the news guy, ready?" He pressed play. "Look, can you see her?"
"Whoa," Warrick exclaimed and moved in for a closer look. "It's her, Maggie Peterson, our victim from the hotel parking lot."
"Yep." Nick beamed like he had just solved the riddle of the universe. "She was at the restaurant the same time that Teri was shot."
"I suspected it awhile ago after something Sara said about the women sharing a lot of the same physical traits," Catherine announced, nodding her head. "I was beginning to think that Teri's death might have been a case of mistaken identity. If both women were at Mirabella's at the same time, someone might have killed Teri thinking she was Mrs. Peterson."
Grissom just stared at the screen without saying anything.
"Griss?" Catherine asked. "Do you have an opinion about this?"
"I was just thinking about the fragility of life and how something as insignificant as someone's appearance could be the single cause of his or her death. It's too bad Teri wasn't a short brunette, if only for tonight." He sighed at the futility of the entire situation. "Good work, Nick, everyone. I appreciate you keeping me involved in the investigation. I still have some things to finish up in my office." He glanced around the room at his team and attempted to smile. He held his gaze on Sara a little longer than the rest and made his way back to his office.
The group was silent until Grissom left the room. "He's really broken up about this," Nick announced.
"Underneath that calm and cool exterior is a very sensitive man," Catherine stated, gently. They all nodded in agreement. "Nice job, Nick, let's get back to work," she finished and the night shift started to break up once again. Catherine noticed as Sara watched the door that Grissom had exited through, even after he was gone for a few minutes.
"Sara?" she asked. "You O.k.?"
"Yeah," she answered quickly. "Just thinking. Let's get back to work."
**********************************************************************
"Fingerprints, fingerprints," Greg remarked, sitting on his favorite chair in the analysis lab. "My kingdom for some really clear fingerprints."
"You mean you can't make anything out of this?" Nick asked with concern as Warrick stood next to him, both looking as impatient as they always did when dealing with Greg Sanders, the King of the Jokers. "Just come out with it, man."
"I have the two partials that you gave me from each of the thirty-two casings; I scanned them into A.F.I.S. separately but there was not enough of each to get a match. So. . ." Greg grinned innocently at his hesitation. Life was good when he could torture these guys.
"So, what, Sanders?" Warrick had an irritated tone edging in his voice; he and Nick exchanged an exasperated glance.
"So, I used a computer program that enables me to combine both partial fingerprints in an attempt to construct a full or near-full print." He stopped again with a big smile and the silence was thick with anticipation.
"Damn it, man. Did you get a full print or not?" Nick could no longer hide his annoyance.
"Glad you asked. Yes, I did get a full print and it matched up to a man you would be very interested in speaking to."
"Greg," Warrick spoke very slowly and softly. "You don't want me to beat this information out of you, do you?"
"I'll help you," Nick said, making a fist and taking a step toward Greg, whose facial expression turned quickly from smart-ass to scared-ass.
"Um, O.k., relax, guys. Where's your sense of drama? The print came back that it belonged to a convicted felon named Will Castor, who was incarcerated for, get this, 'murder for hire'. Pretty cool, huh?"
"Will Castor. How long has he been out of prison?"
"Two years without any further incidence, apparently. He's met his parole requirements and has been a model citizen until now," Greg explained.
"I'll call Brass to bring him in." Warrick pulled out his cell phone and dialed the detective's number. "Brass should also be able get us a warrant to search his vehicle and property, too."
Sara entered the analysis lab. "Anybody seen Catherine?" she asked. "I needed to talk to her for a second." By the pensive expression on her face, her manner had turned intense quite suddenly.
Nick was about to answer in the negative when Catherine stalked into the lab with serious determination and a dangerous, feral look in her eyes. All the heads of the entire C.S.I. team in attendance snapped up to attention; they were all caught between concern for Catherine and fear for their own lives since each one hoped that he or she was not the cause of her anger. She held up her hands in severe annoyance and spoke carefully and emphatically.
"If I get one more call on a shooting for the rest of the night, someone please shoot me."
"Another one?" Warrick remarked, incredulously. "You have got to be kidding."
"No, it must be the official celebration of the Second Amendment tonight. This one appears to be a suicide in a residential home. Warrick, please come with me. Sara and Nick, stay here and keep working, I'll keep you apprised of what is going on. "
Warrick followed Catherine to her car, with discomfort, since he knew their being alone for awhile would give them an opportunity to discuss some recent personal business between them. He had almost started a conversation in that direction at Mirabella's earlier, but he decided to put it off since things had become really strange with them. He tried to judge what she might be thinking by her behavior, which wasn't exactly cold towards him, but not the warm Catherine with which he had become comfortable. She unlocked the doors and climbed into the car while Warrick stood outside the passenger door a moment trying to extend the time before they would have to talk; Catherine looked at him through the side window curiously and he finally gained enough courage to get inside the vehicle. He positioned himself into the passenger seat and struggled with his seatbelt when he realized that Catherine still had her gaze on him. He glanced over at the attractive redhead, nervously.
"Uh, hi," he said, in an attempt to create a lighthearted atmosphere within the car.
The unrelenting stare from those sapphire pools that caused him much vulnerability continued. "You know, I'm not going to bite you. You can get into the car with me."
"I know that," he answered instinctively and hated how his voice came out with a defensive whine.
Catherine's intent look melted a bit into amusement and she finally turned toward her steering wheel and started the car. Warrick was definitely cute when he was uncomfortable and squirmy; it was time to make him more uncomfortable and squirmy.
Warrick figured that, whether there was silence or conversation, both were going to be awkward, so he raced through his brain for something to say; he grasped for some kind of excuse that would be plausible to Catherine.
"You know, you could have just called." Catherine finally said. "I mean, one measly phone call afterward. I don't think that's such a big deal." She started driving in the direction of the crime scene.
Damn, she was quicker than he was and got to the subject first.
"I was going to," he started. "I mean, I just, well." He exhaled audibly. "Catherine, I just didn't know what to say."
She looked over at him impressed by this effect she seemed to have over him. "Do I kiss that badly?" she asked, teasing him mercilessly. "It was only one long kiss after dinner, which I thought went very well."
She could have never imagined that Warrick, who always appeared so cool, collected and sure of himself, would have ever been flustered at anything. She attempted to keep her giggling restrained as she watched him fidget anxiously, not knowing how to proceed or where Catherine might be going with this.
"No! No, you kiss fine, I mean, I liked it, it's just.I've never, you know, started a relationship with a co-worker, that's all."
"Oh, I understand. You just see me as a 'co-worker'." Catherine raked him over the coals some more and grinned inside; she was so evil sometimes.
"No, Catherine, that's not what I mean at all, I meant that I never had a thing going with someone I worked with." It was then that he realized he'd just fallen into the trap she had set; he understood then that she was just playing with his uneasiness. Catherine looked over at him with a big grin and he had to turn his head so she wouldn't see his smile back.
"I really would like to have dinner with you again," she said. "You know, I enjoyed spending time with you outside of work." His striking, light eyes met hers for a moment and he gave her another gentle grin.
"I enjoyed it, too." He broke away from her gaze and looked down at his hands. "How about tomorrow?"
"O.k." she accepted, trying to keep her giddiness from becoming obvious. "Now, that all of that is out of the way, we need to get our heads back on this case."
"Right," Warrick agreed. "Suicide, huh? What did the detectives say?"
"All signs point to an official suicide; the victim even left a suicide note, which contained a really interesting detail. Oh, I think this might be the street coming up." They knew they had the correct house because of the conglomeration of police cars upon the front lawn.
"Interesting detail?" Warrick continued.
"Yes, you'll see when we get inside," she remarked as she parked the car in the driveway.
Warrick and Catherine exited the vehicle and she was surprised to see that Captain Brass wasn't milling around anywhere outside the house. They took the evidence kits out and sauntered up to the front door, flashing identification to the unfamiliar officers, who allowed them entry into the residence.
"You the C.S.I.s?" asked a detective that Catherine recognized but could not place the name at that moment.
"Yes, I'm Catherine Willows, this is my colleague, Warrick Brown. Where's the victim?"
"Upstairs, first room on the right. It seems like a pretty standard suicide. Victim has a gunshot wound on his right temple, and we found a nine millimeter gun on the floor near his right hand. It's pretty messy up there."
"I was told there was a note?"
"Yeah, we left it on the table next to the body; we read it, but nobody touched it."
"Thanks," she answered and started up the stairs with Warrick following behind her.
They arrived at the door to see two police officers conferring outside before they entered the crime scene. She and Warrick took gloves and some small pieces of equipment out of the case. Upon first examination, they found a man with brown hair, dressed in very nice clothes, seated in a chair with his body leaning forward and his head upon the table which was covered with blood and beginning to drip onto the floor. A suit jacket that matched the man's pants, was strewn over the back of the chair. Catherine, seeing a sheet of paper next to the victim, moved carefully into the room, stepping over assorted items like papers and dirty clothes and picked it up at the corner with a pair of tweezers. She read it aloud to Warrick, who was beginning to take pictures of various parts of the room.
"'I am so sorry, please find it in your heart to forgive me, Betty. I hurt all those people at the restaurant, I'm so sorry. Matthew.' Betty must be his wife or girlfriend?" She put the letter in a plastic bag and noticed a full bottle of pills on a dresser near the table; she picked it up and read the label. "Anti-depressants. The date on the bottle indicates that he filled this prescription a few weeks ago, but it doesn't appear that he took any of them. Does this guy have a history of mental illness?"
A police officer standing outside answered that question. "We found out he was seeing a psychiatrist and his wife told us he had suffered from severe depression and a few other things for a long time now. He lost his job a few weeks ago and applied at Mirabella's, but they didn't hire him. Combined with the fact that he'd stopped taking his medicine, he must have just gone on a rampage. Such a terrible thing."
"You think he's really our shooter? He does match the description the witnesses gave," Warrick assessed, taking a closer picture of the table and wall.
Catherine sighed. "He probably is, but we'll know for sure after all this evidence gets processed. There's nothing here to suggest that the suicide was staged." She cautiously lifted the gun and placed it in another plastic bag.
Catherine and Warrick spent a few more hours gathering evidence and taking pictures before heading back to the lab, exhausted after such a grueling night of work.
************************************************************************