Thanks for the reviews! Yes, Greg doesn't have the best relationship with
his parents, and we'll find more about that later. He'll also appear in
more scenes later, I promise, and I'm sorry about those who wanted more
Nick being disappointed right now. He's also going to have a bigger role
to play later in the story.
All right, here comes the first eyewitness!
**
**
Chapter Four: Body Shots
Mason looked to be in his early thirties. Warrick, in hushed tones, gave a quick background sketch - - Mason had been working at Body Shots for the past three years, putting himself through medical school. He was registered at the local university, and used the extra money to finance his education. Only one blot on his otherwise flawless record: an overnight stay at a jail in New Orleans for drunkenness. Nothing severe, nothing to suggest he was culpable for what happened to Greg.
Grissom shook hands, not bothering to shake the latex from his skin. "Chris Mason?"
"That's me."
"I'm Gil Grissom, from forensics. The young man you identified is one of my employees. I'm investigating his case. Can you tell me about his visit to your bar last night?"
"Sure." Mason nodded. "Your guy came in around one last night with a girl. It was kind of late to just be starting a date, but they didn't seem like the usual stoners and drunks we get in here most of the time." His look around the block was deprecating. "Not the best neighborhood. Anyway, they were sitting near me, and it was a slow night. I couldn't help hearing what they were talking about."
"What was it?"
Mason smiled, reflecting. "Work. Your work, I mean. More interesting than normal shop-talk, so I eavesdropped a little between requests. Your guy Sanders paid for everything and kept asking her if there was anything else she wanted. Really eager to please, I could tell, he had it written all over him."
"Out of curiosity, what did they drink?"
"Sanders stuck to beer. The girl had wine coolers. Pretty plain choices - - but Body Shots isn't a fancy place or anything."
"How many did they have?"
"Two beers, three coolers. He said he'd drive her home."
Wise decision. Three wine coolers wouldn't have made a severe dent, and driving still probably would have been legal at that point, but Greg was by far the more safe driver. The latent sense of approval for his lab tech's actions was stinging the second he remembered why he had to ask the questions. "Did Greg leave the bar?"
"Bathroom, once, around two. They got into a fight a little bit after that."
O'Reilly stepped beside Grissom, suddenly imposing. "You didn't say anything about a fight before. Witness fabrication isn't good."
Mason scowled. "I didn't think about it. If you knew all the fights we have in here, you wouldn't, either. No fists, no screaming. They were winding down, getting ready to leave when she asked to see him again tomorrow. He told her that he'd have to see if he needed to work over. Sounded pretty regretful, too. Then the girl got kind of pissed, said that he was just trying to avoid another date, and he said that he wasn't, just that he had to put the job first."
"He-said, she-said. What did they do?"
"Girl grabbed her purse and left. He paid his tab and took off after her." Mason shrugged. "That's all I know, man. Sorry. He seemed like a nice kid."
"He is." Grissom lowered his voice. "Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all? What did the girl look like? Did they leave anything behind?"
"I told the cops: platinum-blonde, looked a little cheap, if you want the truth. New York accent, pink fingernails. She didn't talk as much as he did."
"No one does."
"Hey, they did leave something, now that I think about it."
"Sure," O'Reilly growled. "Now that you think about it." He managed to convey an almost limitless amount of skepticism in his voice.
Mason glowered at him. "I'm doing this voluntarily, you know," he snapped, before turning back to Grissom. "You like riddles?"
"Ordinarily. I'm not in the mood."
"You'll like this one. What's the one thing you wouldn't notice if someone left in a bar?"
Grissom smiled as it came to him. "Their drink."
"Exactly. I was going off-shift and cleaning up when I heard the shot. I called it in as soon as I could get to a phone, and I haven't had a chance to get back to it. It's still sitting on the counter - - half a mug of the house special."
"Thank you," Grissom said. They shook hands again. "If Greg was drugged last night - - "
O'Reilly nodded. "We've got the evidence."
All right, here comes the first eyewitness!
**
**
Chapter Four: Body Shots
Mason looked to be in his early thirties. Warrick, in hushed tones, gave a quick background sketch - - Mason had been working at Body Shots for the past three years, putting himself through medical school. He was registered at the local university, and used the extra money to finance his education. Only one blot on his otherwise flawless record: an overnight stay at a jail in New Orleans for drunkenness. Nothing severe, nothing to suggest he was culpable for what happened to Greg.
Grissom shook hands, not bothering to shake the latex from his skin. "Chris Mason?"
"That's me."
"I'm Gil Grissom, from forensics. The young man you identified is one of my employees. I'm investigating his case. Can you tell me about his visit to your bar last night?"
"Sure." Mason nodded. "Your guy came in around one last night with a girl. It was kind of late to just be starting a date, but they didn't seem like the usual stoners and drunks we get in here most of the time." His look around the block was deprecating. "Not the best neighborhood. Anyway, they were sitting near me, and it was a slow night. I couldn't help hearing what they were talking about."
"What was it?"
Mason smiled, reflecting. "Work. Your work, I mean. More interesting than normal shop-talk, so I eavesdropped a little between requests. Your guy Sanders paid for everything and kept asking her if there was anything else she wanted. Really eager to please, I could tell, he had it written all over him."
"Out of curiosity, what did they drink?"
"Sanders stuck to beer. The girl had wine coolers. Pretty plain choices - - but Body Shots isn't a fancy place or anything."
"How many did they have?"
"Two beers, three coolers. He said he'd drive her home."
Wise decision. Three wine coolers wouldn't have made a severe dent, and driving still probably would have been legal at that point, but Greg was by far the more safe driver. The latent sense of approval for his lab tech's actions was stinging the second he remembered why he had to ask the questions. "Did Greg leave the bar?"
"Bathroom, once, around two. They got into a fight a little bit after that."
O'Reilly stepped beside Grissom, suddenly imposing. "You didn't say anything about a fight before. Witness fabrication isn't good."
Mason scowled. "I didn't think about it. If you knew all the fights we have in here, you wouldn't, either. No fists, no screaming. They were winding down, getting ready to leave when she asked to see him again tomorrow. He told her that he'd have to see if he needed to work over. Sounded pretty regretful, too. Then the girl got kind of pissed, said that he was just trying to avoid another date, and he said that he wasn't, just that he had to put the job first."
"He-said, she-said. What did they do?"
"Girl grabbed her purse and left. He paid his tab and took off after her." Mason shrugged. "That's all I know, man. Sorry. He seemed like a nice kid."
"He is." Grissom lowered his voice. "Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything at all? What did the girl look like? Did they leave anything behind?"
"I told the cops: platinum-blonde, looked a little cheap, if you want the truth. New York accent, pink fingernails. She didn't talk as much as he did."
"No one does."
"Hey, they did leave something, now that I think about it."
"Sure," O'Reilly growled. "Now that you think about it." He managed to convey an almost limitless amount of skepticism in his voice.
Mason glowered at him. "I'm doing this voluntarily, you know," he snapped, before turning back to Grissom. "You like riddles?"
"Ordinarily. I'm not in the mood."
"You'll like this one. What's the one thing you wouldn't notice if someone left in a bar?"
Grissom smiled as it came to him. "Their drink."
"Exactly. I was going off-shift and cleaning up when I heard the shot. I called it in as soon as I could get to a phone, and I haven't had a chance to get back to it. It's still sitting on the counter - - half a mug of the house special."
"Thank you," Grissom said. They shook hands again. "If Greg was drugged last night - - "
O'Reilly nodded. "We've got the evidence."
