This story is based on characters created by Anthony E. Zuiker for the television series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.
Remuneration,
Part 15
by Cheers
The sun was coming up. Sunlight began to flood through the high windows of the interrogation room. A neglected cup of coffee sat growing cold on the table in front of Gil Grissom. It wasn't Greg's Hawaiian Blue, so Gil didn't feel too bad about the waste. He sat back in his chair with one elbow on the table, and absentmindedly rubbed the tip of his right ring finger with the thumb of the same hand. The gesture was unconscious. Catherine could remember seeing him do it thousands of times. She watched him through the one-way glass. It was the first time she could ever remember rooting for the person on the suspect's side of the table. In the interrogation room, Detective Paulson hadn't missed the gesture either.
"Are you nervous, Mr. Grissom?"
Gil pursed his lips slightly as if considering the question and then shook his head. "No." His answer was direct, simple and brief, just like every answer he had given during this current session of questioning. He didn't ask the detective why Paulson would think he was nervous. Under no circumstances was Gil going to relinquish control of this interview.
If Paulson had expected more, he didn't get it. Grissom was a tough customer, no doubt about that. He had been cooperative, answering every question without hesitation. Grissom did not, however, offer any additional information nor did he embellish his replies. The interview was getting Paulson nowhere fast. He decided to try a different route with the suspect.
"I ask because you seem to fidget quite a bit," Paulson nodded at Grissom's right hand as he spoke.
Gil looked at his right hand but never stopped the movement of his fingers. A barely perceptible shrug was all the reply he offered the younger man.
Paulson, who was seated opposite Grissom and had been taking notes on a legal pad, dropped his pen and folded his hands on top of the tablet. "Are you going to answer?"
Waiting a beat, Gil informed the detective, "You haven't asked another question."
Carl sighed audibly despite himself. Grissom was getting on his nerves. "Okay," he said sitting back in his chair, "here's a question. Shelly Danbridge gave you flowers, didn't she?"
Gil's reply was instant. "Yes."
"When?" Carl asked immediately.
"About 10:30 am yesterday."
"You know the time that precisely?"
Grissom nodded.
"How?" Paulson pressed.
"That's when I got home from work," Gil said.
"Were you inside the building when she gave them to you?"
"No."
"Where were you?"
"Outside."
Despite the grave nature of the situation on the other side of the glass, Catherine found herself smiling. Grissom had been party to more interrogations that Paulson was likely to participate in over the next ten years of service, assuming he remained on the force that long.
"The kid has no idea how outclassed he is," Jim Brass said as he stepped up beside Catherine in the observation room. "At this rate they'll be in there all day."
"He shouldn't be in there at all!" Catherine countered.
"Hey," Brass said, a bit defensively. "You're preaching to the choir here."
Realizing that she had been too harsh with him, Catherine gave him an apologetic smile. "I know. I'm sorry."
Looking back through the glass at the scene in the interrogation room, Catherine asked, "Can you get him out of there any faster?" obviously referring to Grissom. "I'm gonna need him tonight if we're to make any progress on the We-Store-It homicide."
Brass nodded. "I'll see what I can do." With that, he left the observation room, and in a few moments Catherine watched as he entered the interrogation room.
With two more direct questions, Paulson had ascertained that Grissom had encountered Shelly Danbridge in the parking lot of the condominium complex and that Grissom had just stepped out of his vehicle. "Did she approach you or did you approach her?" was the question Carl was asking when Brass entered the room.
"She approached me," Gil answered.
Without interrupting, Brass sat down next to the young detective. Paulson gave his boss an inquiring glance. Brass simply nodded and gestured that he continue.
Grissom looked at Jim and gave him an acknowledging nod. "Good morning," he said to the new arrival.
"Morning," Brass replied, a half-hidden smile on his face.
Carl cleared his throat to retrieve the attention of his suspect. "Mr. Grissom," he began again, "did Shelly say anything when she approached you?"
"Yes," Gil responded immediately.
Carl waited for Grissom to continue. When he didn't, as had been the case for the past hour and a half, Paulson looked at his captain.
Brass raised his eyebrows and gave his detective a 'What do you expect me to do?' look. Gil didn't miss the expression.
Turning back to Grissom, Carl asked the next obvious question. "What did she say?"
"Here," Gil replied flatly.
Carl's brows furrowed. "That's all?"
"Yes."
"She just said 'Here.'?"
"Yes."
Paulson paused. They were going to be here for a very long time. Grissom was a son of a bitch, but a smart one. Opening his mouth to ask his next question, he was interrupted by Brass before he got the first word out.
"Mind if I give it a try?" Jim asked the young detective. Of course, he knew what the answer would be.
Carl closed his mouth and blew out some air. His frustration was reaching an all-time high which wasn't going to win him any brownie points with his commanding officer. Perhaps letting Brass swallow some of Grissom's act would help his captain to understand what he was up against. "Sure," he said, gesturing toward Grissom in a 'have at it' motion.
Grissom met Brass's gaze and waited. Brass was having a hard time containing his grin. "Dr. Grissom, can you give me a detailed account of exactly what transpired from the time you arrived home from work yesterday morning and exited your vehicle until you entered the front door of your condo?"
"Sure," Gil replied, and then proceeded to recite his memory of the entire encounter with Shelly Danbridge, including a description of the flowers she had given him and the words of the conversation as exactly as he could recall them.
Carl Paulson sat staring at his suspect for several moments as Grissom talked about the encounter. Brass interrupted once to suggest that Paulson take notes. A little embarrassed that he had not been doing so from the beginning, Carl picked up the pen and began to write as soon as Grissom began to speak again.
