Breeze wasn't exaggerating about anything when Marlena pulled up at the bottom of the driveway that led up to the House of Lomi, Sean Gentileschi's estate. Breeze found it more impressive in the fading dusk, all illuminated from within.
The stained-glass windows; the ornate glass-block columns; the pearly white granite gallery all glimmered as the pair walked up the long driveway—Breeze's second workout for the day. Breeze was happy that she had no use for her sunglasses this time of day but she felt once she stepped inside the house, she might need to whip them out. Even in the distance she could see an extremely large, ornate crystal chandelier lit up in one of the larger windows, making the mansion look like an extremely elaborate lighthouse.
"This is when you know you have way too much money," Marlena said. "You spend your money on useless décor shit."
"Tell that to Bill Gates. The guy has so much money he could buy every baseball team in the league," Breeze smiled, "and make them all wear dresses."
Marlena winced. A Yankee fan, she didn't want to picture Derek Jeter in an evening dress. Although white satin would set off his burnt caramel skin…
Breeze rang the doorbell unenthusiastically and Marlena nodded, impressed at the Minuet in G chimes.
"I bet I can download that for my Nokia," she joked.
This time, Keil was nowhere in sight. Breeze again was expecting the maid or butler but when Sean himself opened the door, she just figured they didn't have one.
"You people," he sneered instead of greeting them. "What now? I had enough of that little prick Sasha Zarek this afternoon."
"Sean Gentileschi, we're CSI's Reagan and Hamelin. We have a warrant to search the premises for strychnine," Marlena said unabashedly.
"I know who you are," Sean replied. He glared at Breeze, "And you and some fat cop were here earlier, harassing Keil. She told me you were."
Breeze took offense to that and began to argue on Brass's part, "Captain Jim Brass and I didn't harass. Keil let us in. She could have very well slammed the door in our faces."
"Then that's what I'm doing now. I've had a very stressful two day and I'd like peace for once with out you damn law enforcement…people! Good night!" With that, Sara's ex slammed the door in their faces.
Breeze balled up her fist and began pounding on the door. Her voice jumped with every thrash she hurled at it, "Mr. Gentileschi! If you don't let us in, the CSI will be the least of your problems! We can very easily get the authorities involved! Mr. Gentileschi! We…have…a…warrant! We…have…a court order…to search…your…home!"
Marlena worried that tiny Breeze would break their door down, she found her voice, "Mr. Gentileschi, this search could eliminate you as a suspect in the Grissom murder case if you don't let us in. It can make or break you!"
The door opened and this time it was Keil. Breeze had stopped hammering and in the dim porch light Marlena could see her partner's hand turning red.
Keil had changed out of the white sundress she was wearing earlier that afternoon and was more casual. Her high-heeled sandals were replaced by bare feet and her toenails were freshly painted an electrifying purple. She wore a silk gold-colored tank top and a pair of designer jeans that looked like they were splattered with gold paint. Her wild streaky hair was pulled back in a careless French twist. A few pieces of hair were purposely loosened from the stylish hairdo, framing her face.
"Miss Hamelin," Keil smiled falsely, her voice still breathless with the New York accent dying to come through but the sexy blitheness and naïveté was gone, her tone a little bit firmer. "I apologize for Sean. He had a bad day."
"Keil, it's very important that you let us search the house. This could get Sean out of becoming a suspect," Breeze explained calmly to the woman she's already met. "He's already being brought up on reckless endangerment and trespassing charges, for that he might only get a short jailing period or perhaps a hefty fine, if he's lucky. If he doesn't let us in, we just have even more of a suspicion that he killed Gil Grissom."
"Yeah, I get it," Keil opened the door wider. "Come on in."
The two CSI's stepped inside and Keil closed the door behind them. Marlena gaped at what she saw but Breeze had seen it before: the beige and white, the gold and silver, the marble fountain and the mahogany. Keil stepped down into the living room and turned off the television, this time showing an episode of The OC. By this time, Breeze had pegged her as a fluttery soap opera fanatic.
"So what is it you're looking for again?" asked Sean's girlfriend.
"Strychnine," Breeze replied. "It's a poison, an alkaloid extract. Commonly used to kill birds."
"In humans the symptoms are frequently confused with tetanus," Marlena added.
"Oh…is that what killed that man?" Keil knitted your brow.
"The poison doesn't kill. The asphyxia, the respiratory arrest, you suffer from it does."
Keil looked disheartened, "I've never heard of a poison like that."
"It's not used a lot anymore," Breeze explained. "It's pretty dangerous stuff. One of our suspects was using it as a rodent control agent."
"And you think my boyfriend has this…stuff in our house? Where his four-year-old roams all the time?"
"We have to check."
"What can I do to help?" Keil asked, crossing her arms across her chest. She leaned against the back of the couch, looking concerned.
"Stay out of the way," Marlena explained. "I'm sorry you won't get to see the end of your show but you and Sean have to step outside while we search."
"Oh…I wasn't watching. I was upstairs with Evie when I heard Sean slam the door," Keil replied. "I came down to see what he was yelling about. Honestly, he can be such a jerk sometimes."
Evie. That's right. She spent nights with Keil and Sean while Sara was working. Breeze recalled Keil mentioning that earlier.
"Evie's here?"
"Yeah. Sean just bought her a new dollhouse; I was helping Evie set it up. She's such a sweetheart, makes me wish she was my own," Keil said wistfully.
"Hers is a room we probably won't be checking and if we do so, it will be the last," Marlena said. "It's unlikely that someone would hide poisonous materials in a four year old's bedroom."
Keil bobbed her head in agreement.
"Is anyone else in the house besides you three?"
"Layla," Keil said. "But she leaves at nine."
Marlena checked her watch. Eight-fifty. "Could you please tell Sean and Layla to evacuate?"
Keil frowned. "Sean won't like that."
"It's rather difficult to do a search with people in the house," Breeze said. "Please try?"
Sighing, Keil nodded and ascended the staircase. A minute or so later, Layla Feldman came down, dressed in tight black jeans and a vintage Metallica tour shirt, an odd choice for a devoted Eric Clapton fan such as she. On her feet were new-looking chunky white Sketchers sneakers. Obviously this was a casual workplace for her. Marlena expected her to be in a pantsuit and heels. In the crook of her arm, Layla carried a battered Five-Star notebook thick with notes and a large denim purse was slung on her shoulder.
"Hello, Layla," Marlena greeted her.
"Good evening, Ms Reagan," Layla said without emotion.
"May I look through your purse before you leave?"
"Why?"
"This is a routine search. No rock nor leaf is left unturned."
With an annoyed sigh, she handed Marlena the purse. With gloved hands and a Mag-Lite, Marlena sifted through the bag, examining every object. Some tampons, spearmint Tic-Tacs, half a packet of Juicy Fruit, a compact, a tube of lipstick (not Valiant Burgundy), a red silk wallet containing fifty-three dollars, a comb, a red CD Walkman containing a Best Of Sheryl Crowe CD, Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson. It was all legit.
"Thank you," Marlena said, handing Layla her purse back.
Layla nodded and went towards the kitchen, where supposedly the back door was.
Marlena and Breeze patiently waited for Keil, Sean and Evie to come down. When it became a ridiculously long wait, Marlena became annoyed.
"Should I go see what's keeping them?" Breeze asked.
"Go ahead," Marlena said. "I'm going to start in the kitchen." She picked up her field kit and headed where Layla Feldman had gone.
Breeze climbed the long steps upstairs and desperately tried to locate where Sean and Keil might be.
At the end of the long corridor, directly across from the top landing of the stairs, she saw light coming through a heavy oak door. She opened it and stepped into a reception area holding several couches and a large semi-circle white desk containing a computer, a laser printer, a fax machine and a typewriter. This was most likely where Layla set up shop. There were two doors just beside Layla's clerical station. One led to a small courtesy bathroom with just a commode and a sink. The other was slightly ajar. Breeze approached it, heard voices and listened. Keil and Sean were yelling.
"…let them come in, Keil?!" Sean was shouting.
"The sooner you do it, the sooner you can get back to work," Keil reasoned with him in a calm even voice, one with a tone that didn't make her seem as dumb as when Breeze first met her. "Then the sooner we can get some dinner."
"Those people fucked up my entire schedule for the past few days. You think I liked having to cancel a conference with Jack Bellman from the Salutations Company? They supply my spa with towels, Keil! Robes, towels and sandals—I can't have a spa without those things!" Sean whined like a child being denied pre-dinner ice cream. "I had to cancel Ducky Robertson from the Heaven's Air Company! I get my God-damn lotions and oils from them! You don't fucking cancel Ducky Robertson! She fucking cancels you!"
"Oh for God's sake, Sean. If you hadn't—"
"Hadn't what? Killed my wife's boyfriend? You think I did it, Keil?"
"No! Of course not!" Keil sounded horrified.
"Then leave me the hell alone!"
"Sean, just prove to these people that we have nothing in our home where we raise a four year old that could kill a grown man!" Keil was hysterical now. "Do it for Evie, please!"
Breeze chose this time to knock on the door. Keil bade her to enter, which she did, cautiously. Sean was seated behind his very large glass-and-granite desk, his face rosy with anger. Keil stood in front of it, Evie on her hip. Evie was partially asleep, her head on Keil's shoulder, dressed in a frilly white antique nightgown. She was oblivious to the shouting match.
"Mr. Gentileschi, Ms. Anson," Breeze said softly. "We really need you two and Evie outside so CSI Reagan and I can do our job. This is a very large house with large rooms. It will take us a long time and the sooner you comply, the sooner we can all get back to normal."
"Listen, missy," Sean stood behind his desk and leaned against it. "I will stay right here."
"Fine," Breeze said smugly. "Then I'll just call the police and have them arrest you for failing to cooperate with officers of law…" she plucked her cell phone off her hip of her jeans and posed her finger to press Speed Dial One: Jim Brass. She glared at Sean, daring him.
Sean exhaled sharply, trilling his lips and sounding like a starved horse. "Fine…fine. Have it your way. But if I find anything missing…anything…you can bet I'll have my lawyer on your ass so fast the whole CSI building will spin until it goes up in flames."
"Go for it," Breeze retorted.
Sean wiped his hands together and stalked out of the office. Keil, who now had expensive-looking flip-flops on her feet, followed, Evie clinging to her like a spider. Breeze smirked behind their backs.
"Breeze?" Marlena called.
"What?"
"Why don't you start with the room you're standing in?"
"The office?"
"Good as any place to start."
Breeze trudged downstairs and picked up her field kit that she'd left at the bottom step of the long flight. She started at Layla's desk, rifling through papers in gloved hands, flipping notes over, shaking out notebooks, emptying the file cabinet. Layla's office alone took her two hours. Her shirt was sticking to her skin as she begrudgingly moved to Sean's.
"Ms. Reagan?" Layla's sweet voice penetrated the silence Marlena was enjoying as she searched the study. She'd just finished the kitchen and came up empty-handed.
"Layla, you shouldn't be in here," Marlena said as she looked behind a plastic globe.
"Sean and Keil want to know how much longer," Layla asked hurriedly.
"A while. I don't know what Breeze's progress is, but definitely awhile. Tell them if we don't finish in another hour, they are advised to check into a hotel."
"Okay—"
"MARLENA!" Breeze's shout echoed through the House of Lomi, startling Marlena so much she dropped her Mag-Lite. She left the study, past a confused-looking Layla and followed the sound of Breeze's exclamation.
"Breeze?"
"In Sean's office."
Marlena quickly found her partner. She was sitting on the floor of Sean Gentileschi's office besides the glass desk.
"What is it?" Marlena asked, out of breath.
Breeze grinned triumphantly and held up a bag of mysterious white powder.
Greg looked up from his microscope and shook his head, "I'm sorry ladies, but it's not your murder weapon."
Breeze and Marlena gave each other shocked looks.
"Greg, please say this is another one of your bad jokes?" Breeze pouted.
"Wish I could. Your white powder is not strychnine but none other than cocaine."
"Cocaine?" the two women exclaimed in chorus.
"Yep. Looks like between banging two women, running his day spa and being an asshole, Sean Gentileschi here was doing lines."
Breeze groaned. "I thought I had something."
"You do," Marlena assured her. "Reckless endangerment, trespassing and now we have Sean for possession of narcotics."
"So much for having a safe environment to raise a four year old in."
Greg grinned, "I know I would love to be a four year old living in a house of cocaine."
"Yeah, we know you would."
Marlena blew her hair out of her face. "Well, back to square one, I guess. Come on, Breeze, let's go find Sasha."
The pair walked down the hall, melancholy to the fact that they were so close from nailing Sean Gentileschi as Gil Grissom's murderer.
"Since the cocaine was the only white powder we found, we can cross out Sean, right?" Breeze asked.
"I imagine so," Marlena replied. "The rooms I covered were so squeaky clean it was as if the Brady Bunch lived there."
"I peeked into Evie's room," Breeze revealed. "Sean loves that girl a lot despite the fact she's not his daughter."
"I wonder who is?"
"Marlena? Did you feel that?"
"Feel what?"
"The ground is rumbling, there's a wind picking up. The logic train just passed and you missed it."
"You don't think…Sara and Grissom?" Marlena almost laughed. "No. If Grissom had a daughter. Don't you think he'd be playing the proud father?"
"No. I don't. But I do think that's why I'm starting to agree with Sasha. There are so many signs pointing to Sean. Shoeprints, the baseball bat, threats, spying, going to great lengths to find out why Sara was acting strange—"
"Breeze," Marlena interrupted her. "The only way to be positive is to check out all routes."
Breeze groaned. "I'm so tired. I'm gonna go to sleep. Pass out in the break room. Something. Are you going to the memorial service?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'll see you there, then?"
"You bet."
Breeze and Marlena went their separate ways, to separate rooms, but they both had the same idea: a nice long nap.