Globophobia: a persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of balloons
"You're dating a balloon." Brass queried the clearly confused and distressed young man sitting at the interrogation table on which he was leaning.
The emotional state of the suspect being questioned had begun to deteriorate rapidly. Both detective and criminalist were becoming frustrated and concerned with the direction things were going. Three times the victim's name had been spoken. Three times the still-unknown man had spoken of balloons and his relationship with one.
~~~~
He had been found in a near catatonic state the day before at a scene. Neighbours had put in a call to police, concerned at the screams and yelling coming from next door that had fallen silent after the sound of an explosion. A sound which could have been a car backfiring or children setting of firecrackers, but turned out to be the noise made when the .357 that had taken off Kara Stanley's head had been fired.
The first officers to arrive had been found in shock by the back-up they had managed to call. It wasn't until crime scene arrived with the Homicide Captain that any investigation had begun.
Brass was the one who had quickly sealed the premises, who had to step around the remnants of bone and long blonde hair in order to confront the inanimate figure curled up in the far right corner of the death filled room, the gun laying not more than an outstretched arm from him. Kicking the gun clear, Brass stopped several paces short of reaching him and called out to gain his attention. When no reaction was forthcoming, he casually took another step forward and prodded the non-responsive form with his foot--with the same result. Deciding he was of no immediate danger, Brass left the room and returned with two reluctant officers who were given the job of guarding their only suspect until crime scene could process the room and the body could be removed.
Working as quickly as possible, under the unusual circumstance they found themselves in, Grissom and Sara seemed as one as they bent over the body and collected that which we would never think to look for.
Standing slightly behind them and moving to gain the correct angle, Warrick worked the camera. The click of its shutter the only sound in the room until the anguished keening began from the far right corner of the room.
~~~~
"Wayne Tyler." Sara announced as she lay the case file in front of where Grissom and Warrick were cataloguing evidence.
Grissom and Brass had given up on the interrogation and returned to where they could make some progress. Brass had so far made the most, coming up with the name Sara had just uttered.
"What else do we know?" Warrick asked as he rolled the kinks from his neck.
"He's the victim's ex-boyfriend. She took out a restraining order on him 9 months ago. He was arrested for breaking it 2 weeks later and was released about 6 weeks ago from the psych ward that the courts put him in after deeming him 'unfit' for trial. He was diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic and a whole host of other stuff he refuses to take medication for."
"Is there anything about balloons in there?" Grissom questioned as he opened the file to look for himself.
"Actually, yes." Sara replied. "Apparently he has a phobia of balloons. When he was four, he was trapped in a room holding 500 helium balloons that were for his Grandparents 40th wedding anniversary. He also suffers from visual hallucinations and they often manifest in the form of balloons."
"Exactly how long have you had this folder, Sara?" Grissom demanded incredulously as he located the page from which Sara was quoting verbatim.
"I read fast." Sara retorted, not sure if she should be embarrassed or proud. "How did you know to ask about the balloons?"
"Every time Brass mentioned the victim's name to Tyler, he would begin to mutter about balloons."
"Sounds to me like he was hallucinating that the victim was a balloon and shot her." Warrick opined.
"For now it's all circumstantial. But, as crazy as it sounds, it's the most plausible theory." Grissom agreed.
"Then let's prove it." Sara concluded and led the way out of the layout room.
~~~~
A few phone calls were all that Grissom needed to secure a last known residence for the accused. Another call from Brass secured them a warrant and the team was on their way to prove a theory.
It was a theory for little more than a minute after gaining entry into the squalid flat that Wayne Tyler had called home in the month and half he had been rejoined with society.
The stench of rotting food and poor hygiene hung thick in the air. Grissom was sure he'd be able to discover a new species of insect in the multitude that covered nearly every surface.
"Grissom…" Sara called from the hallway.
Turning to the sound of her voice and beckoning for Warrick and Brass to follow, Grissom made his way down the short dingy hallway to where Sara stood in front of an open door.
Grissom could have sworn he had entered some kind of alternate universe as he walked into the room. Every surface gleamed and not a speck of dust floated in the air. This was obviously a special place to Mr. Tyler.
Two hours and several hundred evidence bags later, the investigators had finally managed to bag and tag the gallery of evidence that would lead them to the trial and probable conviction of Wayne Tyler for the murder of Kara Stanley.
What they had found on the walls did not belong in the mind of a well man, but it was also the work of a man who was in full control of his actions. Plotted on the walls of that room was the prolonged and premeditated murder of Kara Stanley. From the first meeting to the slow, but intended terrorism of an innocent woman.
The only question that still remained was: after all his planning, why leave the evidence where it could be so easily found? And it was one to which none had an answer.
"Let's get out of here." Sara shuddered as she bent to collect her share of the evidence.
"Good idea Sidle." Brass agreed and he followed her lead out the door.
Stopping for one last look around the filth lived in by the sickest bastard he'd ever known, he moved quickly to the door hoping to outrun the evil on his way out. Making sure he was the last to leave, Brass shook his head as he tripped over the debris.
