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

Remuneration, Part 36
by Cheers

Christopher DiMarco sat in the interrogation room and stared at a different table top. Catherine held the Ballistics report that Warrick and Sara had brought to her as well as the file folder Sara had found along with the gun. The information in the folder was telling, and the Ballistics report was even more so. She was certain that DiMarco was their killer, but there were a few things Catherine still wanted to know. Grissom would have been satisfied just knowing the who and the how of the crime. Catherine was never satisfied until she understood the why. Jim Brass was game enough to give her the chance to find out.

"You loved your father, didn't you?" Catherine asked DiMarco.

Chris looked up at the CSI. "Sure," he said calmly. "Doesn't everybody?"

Catherine shrugged.

In the observation room, Sara and Warrick exchanged looks.

"Is that why you followed in your old man's footsteps?" Brass asked.

DiMarco looked at the detective without answering for a moment. These people didn't understand and he wasn't sure they ever would. Chris was sure that the evidence that lady had proved what he had done. Maybe now was the time to tell them why. "My father was a good man," Chris finally said.

"But not good enough to keep from getting caught?" Brass suggested.

Chris's expression became resentful. "Do you know how hard it was for me to get a job in this town being the son of Russell DiMarco?"

"You managed to work for the same casino that your dad worked at," Catherine told him.

"Only after I got a revisionist history lesson from Old Man Murphy," DiMarco said bitterly. "He hired me the year he sold out. I had to sit there and listen to him tell me lies about my father. I had to promise never to be like him."

"But you are just like him, right?" Jim asked.

"You don't know jack shit," Chris spat out.

"What did your father tell you about why he was fired, Chris?" Catherine asked softly. She opened the file folder taken from DiMarco's apartment. Inside there were some letters and numerous news clippings. All referred to the gaming commission's investigation of skimming at the Monaco, and were written in the months preceding the day Russell DiMarco had shot and killed Deke Durant. "Your father wasn't running a scam on the casino was he?"

DiMarco looked away from the detective. "No," he said more calmly. "He was working for the government."

"That's what these news clippings were about," Catherine said. "Your father was helping the gaming commission prove corruption in the casino."

Chris nodded slightly. "And look where it got him."

"Why didn't he just tell the casino owners who he was working for?" Catherine asked.

That brought a hollow laugh from the suspect. "In mob-run Vegas? How long do you think he would have lived if he had said something like that?"

"Not long," Warrick muttered. Watching, he and Sara were fascinated by the story being related in the room on the other side of the one-way glass.

Catherine knew Chris was right. In old Vegas, Russell DiMarco would have simply disappeared. Working for the government in an investigation didn't guarantee squat then and guaranteed little more now.

Jim Brass leaned back in his chair. "That gun we found in your apartment is a nice piece."

"It was my father's," DiMarco said almost off-handedly.

"You found out who Joe Durant was, didn't you?" Catherine asked. "You found out he was Deke Durant's son."

"It's not that simple," Chris said.

"Why don't you explain it us," Brass suggested.

"He told me who he was," DiMarco said. "Joe would sit at my table and talk about the crimes he said my father had committed. He told me that my father had murdered his father."

"You didn't know?" Catherine asked.

"Not the whole story," Chris said. "I was really little when my father went to prison. My mother didn't let me visit him. All I have are the letters he sent to her and the newspaper articles my mother cut out and saved."

"That's what's in this file," Catherine offered.

Again Chris nodded. "I didn't find that file until after my mother died last year."

"Then a man claiming to be Deke Durant's son starts showing up at the casino and sitting down at the tables that you were dealing at?" she asked.

"He would look for me. Sit down when the table was empty. Say things. Accuse my father of things," Chris stared at the table top as he spoke. "I made copies of the information I had and gave it to him. He just kept at me. I asked the pit boss to keep him away from my table. Durant complained."

"What finally happened, Chris?" Brass asked. "What made you kill him?"

Chris looked up at that. "Isn't it obvious?"

Catherine understood. Finally she had her why. "When he realized he wasn't getting to you with the words, that you didn't believe him, he accused you of cheating the casino. The management fired you based on Durant's account."

Chris didn't react. He continued to stare at the table top.

"Durant did to you what his father had done," Catherine continued. "So you figured the best way to deal with it was to do the same thing your father did. You shot him."

In the observation room, Sara looked at Warrick, slightly stunned. "The more things change," she said.

"I know," Warrick replied, equally surprised by the revelations they had heard. "The more they stay the same."

"Vendetta?" Brass asked

"Justice," Chris said evenly.


Whether it was skill, intervention from the gods, or just plain luck, Carl Paulson would never quite know. After just over an hour of searching, he and O'Riley had found a hit on their list. Running the name, they came up with an address just four blocks from Grissom's condominium complex.

Paulson dialed Grissom's cell phone and waited for an answer. After three rings he was rewarded with "Grissom."

"This is Paulson. I think we may have found him."