This story is based on characters created by Anthony E. Zuiker for the television series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

Remuneration, Part 7
by Cheers

The Break Room at CSI was empty except for a single individual. Warrick Brown, a CSI level three at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, sipped his coffee and read the sports section of the daily paper. Michael Jordan was retiring. Again. Third time's a charm, Warrick thought, smirking and half amused at the irony of this particular retirement. Each of the last two Jordan exits involved heavy betting on the outcome of the last game, the number of minutes Jordan would spend in the game, the points he would post, the boards he would make, the fouls he would draw…. This go 'round, Warrick had no bets out because betting had been nothing but trouble and Jordan had more problems than pleasure going into the final game.

Damned if they both weren't getting a little long in the tooth for their individual problem issues. They were two black men with real talent. But talent doesn't always lead you in the right direction. Jordan was much better off in the front office of the Wizards and Warrick was much better off anywhere but a casino or sports book. It was like the lyrics to the Robbie Robertson song:

Oh nothing is forgotten

Only left behind

Wherever I am

She leads me down

Warrick had a problem with gambling, Jordan had difficulty leaving the basketball court. They both needed to steer clear. Sometimes it just wasn't that easy.

"So are you going to do any work tonight?"

Looking up from the newspaper, Warrick spotted Catherine, who had entered the Break Room and headed for the coffee machine. "You think this isn't work?" he challenged.

Catherine finished pouring herself a cup of coffee and walked over to the table where Warrick was seated. "Sports page. If you were a bookie, I'd say yes, but since you work in a crime lab I'm thinking you're just full of it."

Dropping the paper on the table, Warrick placed a hand over his heart and a half-wounded expression on his face. "Oh, I'm hurt!"

Sara wandered in just in time to overhear the last portion of the conversation. "No you're not," she said grinning. "You're a slacker."

Catherine gave Sara a conspirator's smile. Sara headed for some much-needed coffee as well.

"What? You're gonna shoot at me now, too?" Warrick continued to protest.

"If the target fits," Catherine quipped.

"Man, you two are brutal," Warrick said, dropping his hand and shaking his head. "When is Grissom back on shift?"

"Ouch!" Sara said, stepping up to the table, coffee mug in hand. "Was that a shot at our fearless second-in-command here?" she asked, glancing toward Catherine.

"Nah, man," Warrick replied. "With Nick out on a call and Grissom off tonight I'm just trying to even out the odds."

"Even with all three of you guys here, the odds wouldn't be even," Sara said, only half joking.

"You got that right," Catherine added before turning to business. "So, Nicky's out on a call?"

Warrick nodded. "Yeah, call came in about fifteen minutes ago. Something about a possible DB behind a grocery store in town. Nick was up for next call so he headed out." Warrick stood up and grabbed his coffee cup to head back for a second helping. He gestured in the general direction of Grissom's office with the cup before adding, "See, Gris would have checked his messages and known that if he had been here."

Catherine gave him a dangerous grin, "Now I don't need to read that message 'cause I asked you."

Guessing that he might be treading close to the line, Warrick decided to change the subject. "Right," he said. "So what have you two been up to out there?"

"Your new assignment," Catherine told him.


Nick Stokes walked up to the scene with anticipation. Grissom had promised him he could go solo on the next DB case. When this call came in, Nick jumped at the chance to get out to the crime scene. Warrick had to finish cataloguing the evidence in the last negligent homicide case they had investigated. That meant Nick was up for the next call. He had wanted a DB, not because suspicious circumstance deaths were more interesting cases to work, but because he felt he had something to prove and someone to prove it to.

Nick was a CSI level three, just like Warrick. He had been a level three longer, as a matter of fact. Grissom had felt that Nick was not ready to be on his own with some investigations. When Nick was honest with himself, he understood why Grissom could feel that way. Nick wasn't the genius that Grissom was. The job didn't come as naturally to Nick as it did his boss. But Nick had game and he was learning, rapidly. He wanted to be the best, and that drive pushed him to grow. Maybe that was what Grissom had been after - getting Nick Stokes stoked up enough to want to grow, to develop as an investigator. Sometimes a swift kick in the pants wasn't a bad thing.

The body was wrapped in a large dark green trash bag. The yellow ties of the bag lay pulled apart at one end and two small feet could be seen protruding from the top of the bag. One of the feet still wore a floral patterned canvas shoe. The other was clad only in a dirty pink sock. This DB was a little girl. Nick took a deep breath. Damn.

"Who's in charge of the scene?" Nick asked the officers who had secured the crime scene.

"I am," a brown-suited detective said, stepping up to face the CSI. "Carl Paulson." He offered his hand to the newcomer.

"Nick Stokes, Criminalistics." Nick shook the detective's hand. "Want to tell me what we have here?"