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

Remuneration, Part 28
by Cheers

Nick hated the fact that he had to interrupt a grieving family in order to collect evidence. After getting permission from Martha Danbridge, Nick had checked the interior of her car. Mrs. Danbridge drove a Dodge Neon with wine colored interior. The automotive fibers found on Shelly and her clothes had not come from her vehicle. That left the other carpet fibers to deal with.

The Danbridge home was understandably somber. Just like Grissom's home, the floors of the Danbridge condo were patterned concrete with a commercial polyurethane floor coating that added a durable clear shine. Martha Danbridge had large area rugs in the living room and in both bedrooms. These carpets were patterned and dyed hand-woven imported items. "My husband loved them," she explained. Nick was certain the fibers were natural and not synthetic. He took samples for comparison anyway.

As he collected the last samples from the living room rug, Martha Danbridge wanted to know something. "You must be the Nick that Dr. Grissom said he was going to consult the night…." She couldn't finish. The grandmother dabbed a tissue to the corner of her eyes.

Placing the last fiber he collected in a bindle, Nick rose from his knees and looked at the grief-stricken grandmother. "Yes, ma'am" he said simply.

"Dr. Grissom said you were the best," Martha said softly.

Nick couldn't keep the amazement out of his face. Astonishment quickly became embarrassment when he realized that Grissom was probably just trying to bolster the woman's hopes before they knew that the body he was investigating was her granddaughter.

Ron Danbridge, who had been watching the CSI while sitting with his wife at the dining area table and silently sipping on a cup of coffee, looked surprised as well. "You know Dr. Grissom?"

Nick turned to look at him. "He's my boss," he informed the father.

That brought Ron Danbridge out of his chair and over to the CSI. Cheryl Danbridge rose and followed her husband. The younger Mrs. Danbridge placed her arm supportively on her husband's shoulder.

"You're going to find the man who did this, aren't you?" Ron asked.

Nick nodded. "We are doing our best to find him, Mr. Danbridge. I promise you that we want nothing more than to see justice done." He hoped that the determination in his voice was evidence enough of the department's commitment to catch the killer.

The father nodded. He reached up and took hold of his wife's hand. It seemed to Nick that Mr. Danbridge still had something else to ask, so he waited patiently for the man to have his say.

After a brief look at his wife's face and a nod of encouragement from Cheryl, Ron cleared his throat and addressed the CSI again. "Would you tell Dr. Grissom that I'm sorry?"

Now Nick was confused. "Excuse me?"

"For attacking him the way I did," Mr. Danbridge explained, a look of shame written on his face. "I was just so angry and … well, he was the only one the news people said could have done it … and …."

Nick interrupted the apology. "No need to explain, Mr. Danbridge," he told the man. "If it would make you feel better, I'd be happy to relay the message."

Cheryl Danbridge looked visibly relieved. "Thank you," she told Nick. "We're really very sorry for the misunderstanding."

Nick thanked the family again for letting him collect the needed evidence. Leaving the Danbridge's, Nick had a newfound respect for his boss. The mystery of Grissom's face was now solved.


The AV Lab door was closed. Archie Johnson wanted to keep the hubbub of the busy lab from interfering with his analysis of the project he was working on. The anonymous call made to 911 Dispatch the night Shelly Danbridge was killed had been made from a payphone in a high traffic area. The phone speaker was older equipment and poorly maintained. That made the quality of the recording poor to begin with. The voice was obviously male; not much else could be discerned through the pops and hum of the static.

Fortunately Archie, the lab's resident audiophile, knew a few tricks. After digitizing the recording, Archie ran the sample through multiple cleaning algorithms developed by NASA to clear the static of transmissions received from space. The technology was first used with the Apollo missions and had been further developed to provide better communication with space shuttle crews.

Completing another pass through the cleaning algorithms, Archie listened to the message again. The voice was much clearer. There was also a very distinct background noise that sounded like a large automatic door swinging open. That made sense since the payphone was at the front of a large supermarket.

The oddest thing about the tape was the tone of the voice he heard. The man sounded almost sympathetic. If this was the killer's voice, he didn't sound like a raving maniac. Not that the tone of a voice can indicate the motive of a suspect, but Archie had somehow expected a hardness in the voice. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number of Nick Stokes' beeper.


The Tailor's Shoppe at the Monaco Hotel and Casino was housed in the posh gallery of exclusive shops that sat between the hotel tower and the main casino floor. The manager on duty when Warrick and Sara arrived with the warrant for information was Mr. Levet.

"We always use numbers to help us identify the items we work on," Mr. Levet explained as he typed the number from the suit coat into the shop's customer database. "It's the only way to keep track of our customers."

The computer beeped to tell the searcher the requested information was found. Mr. Levet punched another key on the keyboard and was rewarded with the complete customer profile of the owner of the suit in question. "That suit was fitted for a Mr. Joseph Durant," the manager informed the investigators.

"When was the work done?" Warrick asked.

The manager consulted the computer screen again. "That suit was picked up January 17th, this year."

"Almost four months ago," Warrick said, half under his breath.

"Mr. Durant was a good customer," Mr. Levet attested. "We've done several suits for him."

This was good news. Warrick asked the question both CSIs wanted an answer to. "When was the last time he was in here?"

Mr. Levet gave the computer screen another quick glance. "March 26th. He dropped off a suit with us, but he hasn't returned to claim it or pay for the work."

"Do you have an address for Mr. Durant?" Sara wanted to know.

The shop's records had a complete address and phone number for the customer. The manager gave the complete information to the CSIs. After leaving the shop, they headed back to their vehicle and discussed what to do next.

"We might be able to find dental records for Joseph Durant," Sara offered. "His address is in Henderson. If he's lived in the area for a while, he might even be in the local dental database."

"Yeah," Warrick agreed. "We should give Doc Robbins a heads up."

Sara looked at her partner questioningly as they walked. There was something else going on in Warrick's head, she was sure of it. Grabbing hold of his arm, she pulled them both up short.

"What's going on?" Sara asked, searching Warrick's face. "You know something else about this guy, don't you?"

Taking a moment to answer, Warrick worked his memory. "I think I remember that name from somewhere," he told her.

"Our vic?" Sara said. "Joseph Durant?"

Warrick nodded. "I just can't seem to place him yet." He started to move again and Sara followed him. "I'll remember, though," Warrick reassured her. "I always do."

"What, so you're part elephant now?" Sara joked.

Warrick's only response was a half-laugh.