New chapter for you! Enjoy!
Catherine groaned as she pushed herself out of from under the bed. She coughed once, getting a look from Nick.
"Hey, if you're sick, stay away from me," he said idly, busy checking the carpet.
She rolled her eyes at him, choosing to ignore his juvenile comment. "There's nothing under the bed." She stood up, glancing at the suitcases still sitting on one of the chairs. Something caught her eye, and she stepped closer to it.
"Hey Nick," she said, turning to look at him, "do you think these belonged to the vic's clothes?" She held up her tweezers, a few long strings of thread held in her hand.
He squinted at them for a moment, then approached her to take a better look at them. "Looks like silk thread," he said, holding a magnifying glass up to it." He frowned, turning to look at the bloody spot on the floor. "She was wearing cotton."
Catherine sighed. "Doesn't mean she didn't get it caught earlier, while wearing a different shirt."
Nick nodded, knowing she was right. "Yeah. Let's take a look. This one is black, probably from a hem or a sleeve."
Catherine gave Nick a small smile. "Know a lot about clothes, Nicky?"
He smiled sarcastically. "No, just fibers."
They carefully zipped open the suitcase, noting everything that they took out, laying the clothes in a neat pile. It was more for respect of Mrs. Grissom than any help to them. They examined each piece of clothing, checking the color and fabric type.
Nick sighed and say back on his haunches after they finished. "No black, silk shirts in here."
Catherine frowned, glancing around the room as she did. She then suddenly stood, moving toward the bathroom. She looked around in there for a moment, then reached onto a shelf, pulling down a plastic bag. "Dirty clothes bag," she explained to Nick as she glanced inside. "Most hotels give them to you." She looked in the bag for a moment, then set it down. "Still no silk."
Nick nodded. "So, the fibers don't belong to our vic." He looked up at Catherine. "Our killer was wearing a black, silk shirt when he killed Gris' mother." He frowned, looking at her suitcase. "But why were the fibers on the bag?"
"Robbery?" Catherine guessed, opening the drawers in the nightstand. "I don't see anything of hers in here. No ID, no purse. Nothing."
Nick nodded, absentmindedly gnawing on the end of his flashlight. "So, our killer got in here, killed Mrs. Grissom, then took all of her things. Wallet, purse. Doc said that it looked as if a ring were pulled from her finger."
"Right. Did you dust the room yesterday?"
"Yeah, right after you left to check on Gris. Ran what I found through AFIS. Cleaning people must do a great job, only prints I found were Mrs. Grissom and the manager."
"Wait, why would the manager's prints be all over a fresh room?"
"Well, he does own the place. Managers sometimes go through and repair things."
Catherine shook her head. "I still think something's wrong."
Nick nodded slowly, then peered underneath the air conditioner. He flashed his light under it, and near the end, something caught his attention. He crawled underneath the table, pulling out his tweezers as he did. He picked it up, the scooted out from underneath the table.
"What do you have, Nicky?" Catherine asked.
Nick frowned. "Looks like a hair. Grey, curled too." He looked up at Catherine. "This one is too short to be from Mrs. Grissom," he commented as he carefully placed it into a brown evidence envelope. "Could be from another tenant, but we'll check it out just in case. Still has the follicle on it; DNA paradise."
Catherine shook her head, giving Nick a small smile.
* * * * * * * *
Nick and Catherine were taking a coffee break some time later when they heard a knock on the doorjamb of the break room. They turned simultaneously to see who it was. A young red-headed woman stepped inside, holding files in her hands.
She extended a hand to Catherine. "Micah Mitchell. I'm supposed to help in the interrogation of Gil Grissom? I was told that you two were unable to do it due to personal attachment."
Catherine shook her hand lightly, raising her eyebrows at her. "That's right. Gil Grissom is our boss, night shift supervisor. We're investigating the murder of his mother."
"Hmm…" Micah said idly as she went to the coffee maker. Catherine shot Nick a disapproving look when her back was turned; Nick responded with a shrug. "Do you have any suspects yet?" Micah continued.
"Not at the moment, but we are working on it," Catherine said, sitting down next to Nick.
"When is Mr. Grissom supposed to get here for the interrogation?"
Catherine's frown deepened. She then decided that she did not like this woman. She was far too much like Ecklie. "Sara called and said that they were on their way. He wanted to positively ID the body." A chill ran down her spine, knowing that it had to be tearing Grissom apart inside.
Micah nodded. "Good. Better to get this over with." She sighed as she sank into a chair across the table from Catherine and Nick. "I've got other cases to work on."
Nick glanced up at Catherine when Micah looked down at one of Grissom's unfinished crossword puzzles that had been left on the table. He made sure that Micah wouldn't see, then mouthed, 'bitch'. Catherine stifled a laugh, coughing to cover it up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Nick's hands were shaking as he stepped into the room adjoined to the interrogation room. He'd watched dozens and dozens of interrogations before, even participated in quite a few of them before. But never with anyone he knew. He wondered: how would Micah treat Grissom? Would she show the respect that he was due, or would she think that he was a suspect. But surely she knew that it was just procedure to question family of the victim.
He shook his head. He doubted that this woman would show any bit of respect towards Grissom. The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned as Catherine stepped inside.
"Grissom's on his way," she explained, moving up next to the glass with him. "Found him and Sara at the morgue." She shook her head, fighting to keep her voice steady. "He's pretty messed up, Nick. In all the years I've worked with him, I've never seen him cry. And now…it's like he can't stop." She put a hand to her mouth, fighting to keep her own tears at bay.
Nick put a gentle hand on her back, but said nothing. His attention was stolen from her when the door to the interrogating room was opened, and Grissom stepped inside.
The CSI supervisor stole a glance at the mirror, wondering who exactly was behind there, but knowing that he wouldn't be able to see. He shook his head slightly, then made his way to the chair usually reserved for suspects. He caught a glance of Sara in the hall, staring at him with wide, worried eyes, before a police officer stepped in with a woman that Gris didn't know.
She briskly took her seat, opening her file and pulling out a few sheets of paper. She set them face-down on the table, then looked up at Grissom finally, lacing her fingers together.
"Mr. Grissom, I presume?" she asked, almost pleasantly. It was almost as if she were going to ask him to tea rather than drill him about his dead mother.
Grissom gave her a very sarcastic smile. "That's me," he said, trying and failing to match her pleasant tone.
She frowned at him, then held up a sheet of paper as if reading it. "You are aware of why you are here?" He nodded, and she continued. "Good. Now, where were you between nine Wednesday night and seven this morning?"
Grissom fixed her with a blank gaze, one his team was very accustomed to. "I was at my house. Sleeping."
"Can anyone support that statement?"
Grissom smirked. "Do you mean was anyone sleeping with me? No."
Micah shot him a disapproving glare, then continued. "Did you know that your mother was in town?"
"Yes. I spent most of yesterday with her."
"And what did you two do?"
Grissom crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Well, she drug me around from store to store until about three. She bought me a nice shirt," he added sadly. He shook his head. "We had a late lunch, and I dropped her off at her hotel. She met me for dinner after eight, and we were done a little before nine. I went home, and she took a cab back to her hotel."
"You didn't drive her back to her hotel?"
"I offered to, but she said that she didn't want to bother me. She said she'd switched hotels, and that I probably wouldn't know where the new one was."
"Why did she change hotels?"
"Said something about bugs on the walls and no water."
Micah nodded, pulling out another piece of paper. "And you had no idea where this new hotel was at?"
"No. She didn't tell me. Didn't seem to think it was important." He shook his head, covering his eyes. "She was supposed to fly home this morning."
Micah looked up at him, seeing him weak and very close to tears as his thoughts went back to his mother. She shook her head. "Do you have any siblings, Mr. Grissom? Any brothers or sisters?"
"No."
"Did your mother have any kind of life insurance?" she pressed.
Grissom slowly looked up at her, quickly catching on to what she was getting at. "Yes. She bought it years ago." He frowned, cocking his head slightly to the side. "Are you implying that I killed my mother for insurance money?"
"Did you kill your mother?" Micah countered.
Grissom stared at her, anger draining the color from his face. His hands began to shake, so he clenched then shut. "No. I would never, could never, hurt my mother. I have never laid a hand on a woman, ever."
"You say you never went to her new hotel room. Explain to me then, Mr. Grissom, why a hair with your DNA profile was found at the scene?" she asked, sliding a lab report across the table at him.
Catherine's breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Nick. His face has also lost its color. "How did she get that lab report? I thought you said Greg hadn't finished it!"
Nick shook his head. "When I went to check on it, he hadn't. Said he was about to run it and would page me when he was through." He shook his head again, clenching his own hands into fists. "That woman must have gotten it before Greg could page me."
Catherine glared at Micah through the glass. "What is she trying to do? Does she really think Grissom did it?"
Nick shrugged. "Knowing Ecklie, he probably planted a seed of distaste in all of his days guys. They're all out to get Gris."
Grissom, meanwhile, was staring at the paper. His hair, at his mother's room? How could that be? He shook his head. "We shed hairs all the time. One of mine could have fallen on her during the course of the day, then flown off in her room."
Micah's smile faltered a little. Obviously she had forgotten that Grissom himself was a renown CSI. "Do you own any silk shirts, Mr. Grissom?"
He shrugged. "I may, but I doubt it. Cotton is more my thing. Practical, yet comfortable," he said sarcastically.
"Would you be willing to let us look at your house?"
Grissom's face hardened. "No."
"Why is that? Feeling guilty about something?"
They watched as Grissom's face reddened. Finally he stood up, slamming his fist on to the table. "I didn't do this! I didn't kill my mother! I loved her! And yes, I do regret something! I regret never going to visit her, for marrying my job!" His voice cracked as fresh tears began to flow. "If only I had gone to visit her more, maybe she wouldn't have felt the need to come here. Then maybe things would have been different." His voice gradually softened, ending up in a whisper as he sank back into his seat, burying his face in his hands.
Micah stared at him for a second, then gathered up her papers. She cleared her throat, looking up at the officer, who himself was staring at Grissom with sympathetic eyes. "We're finished here. He can go," she said, then turned and stepped out of the door.
Catherine watched her walk out, then rushed out of her room to intercept. She grasped Micah's arm, forcing her to turn and face her. "What the hell do you think you were doing? Who told you to treat him like a suspect?"
"I merely looked at the evidence. Maybe if you weren't so personally involved, you would have seen the same thing."
"A single hair at a crime scene doesn't make that person a murderer. He's right about shedding hairs. And we didn't find any evidence that the hair was forcefully yanked out."
"I'm just doing my job," Micah said coldly, turning away and disappearing around a corner.
Catherine stared after her, and continued to steam until Nick approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, then sighed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were trying to set Grissom up."