CHAPTER TWO (R)
-----------------------------
Gil bent down at the waist, eyes squinting, and observed the victim. He pushed open the victim's unbuttoned shirt, and trailed his finger across the man's chest. He straightened, and held his latexed finger up to the dimmed light. "What do you make of this?" He held up his index finger to Catherine, who was kneeling on the floor, looking through the man's personals.
Catherine eyed him. "It looks like goo." She stated plainly.
"Smell it." He coaxed her.
She looked at him oddly and shook her head, but finally relented. "Smells like some kind of oil." She crinkled her nose, trying to pinpoint the smell. "It smells kind of familiar, though the vapors seems to be single-handedly destroying my nasal cavity." She muttered, riffling through Zachary Garber's bag.
"Smells like almonds." Gil said, leaning close to the victim's chest and inhaling.
Catherine glanced quickly at him. "Careful Gil, you're in quite a compromising situation." She grinned. "Don't want to give anyone the wrong impression."
"Who am I trying to impress?" He shot back, mischief clouding his sharp blues. Their eyes battled, knowing that they were but a step away from crossing the line between flirtatious banter and . . . his eyes mellowed. "Did you find anything?"
"Well, let's see here." Catherine dangled a bottle in front of Gil, who was now kneeling beside her.
"Almond oil?" Gil raised his eyebrow.
"Apparently it does wonders for your skin."
"Experience?" Gil asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Knowledge." She retorted, shutting him up.
Gil put his hands up in defence. "I'll take your word on it." He muttered. He looked back at the deceased. "So, could the dancer enjoy the contrast of bitter oils to the sweet smell of . . ." He stopped himself with shy grin. He glanced over at his companion, his eyes slowly roaming her body. "What did you use?" He asked, unashamed.
Catherine's brow furrowed and she gave him a playful whack on the shoulder. She leaned over, dropping her voice down to a husk. "I prefer just old-fashioned sweat." She whispered softly, and held back a smile when she heard him groan.
Gil couldn't help his mind's eye wander, especially hearing her use the present-tense. He conjured up images of her body, slick with her sweat, sliding along side his.
Catherine gazed into his eyes, seeing them darken with a veil of concoction - she knew what he was visualizing, and she dropped her head to her chest, hiding her secret smile. "So, uh, if it is the dancer's oil, what is it doing in the victim's bag?"
Gil's clouded eyes cleared and he shrugged. "Souvenir?"
"So, we questioned both the girls that entertained this lucky bastard for the evening." Jim explained, as he and Sara walked in.
"Did any mention a fetish for almond oil?" Gil asked, standing up, holding the small bottle between his index and his thumb.
Sara shook her head but put her finger up. "Wait - that first one, Sasha - her skin glistened, but not like sweat. . ." She trailed off, looking from Gil, to Catherine and finally to Jim. "What?" Then it dawned on her. "Uh, no - I wasn't looking - I . . . I'm a CSI damnit, it's my job to notice!" She exclaimed.
Catherine smiled. "Don't worry, Sara - I'm sure Jim can vouch for your observations." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, motioning Jim ogling a poster.
"Hey Grissom." Jim called out. He pointed to the woman's nipple. "What do you think?"
Gil stepped up beside Jim and both men stood there, heads cocked to the side, staring intently at the naked woman's breast. "It looks odd, misshapen a bit." He commented and spun around when he heard Catherine clear her throat.
"I know the human body is considered a masterpiece, but this is ridiculous!" She pointed to their critique of the poster-girl's nipple.
Gil raised his eyebrow and turned back to the poster. He stood on the balls of his feet, giving him a little more height, and passed a finger across the shiny photo-finish of the image.
Catherine bit down on her tongue upon witnessing such an accidental intimate act by her supervisor. She closed her eyes, trying to force the sexual tension that had been building up for well over seventeen years, out of her system, but the image of Gil's hands - gloved or not - caressing her breasts were too pleasing to pass up.
"Ah-ha! Caught you. . ."
Catherine's eyes grew wide at the sound of Gil's rich tenor voice, thinking she'd been caught mid-way through one of her fantasies. She breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes focussed on the back of the team's head - all of whom seemed to have ventured to the lude image. She walked up, standing on tippy-toes, looking over Gil's shoulder. She tried to inhale discreetly, wanting to brand his scent in her memory, threatening her senses to never forget his distinct smell, one that just emanated comfort.
Gil held up a translucent circular piece of material. "Dark on one side, see-through on the other." A lopsided grin soon followed. He glanced back up at the poster where a hole now lay, gawking back at them.
"Implosion." Jim muttered under his breath and then glanced at the team. "What?" He laughed, off their grimaces.
Catherine picked up a chair and climbed up. "Where there's a will, there's a camera." She said, picking up a camcorder.
Jim shook his head. "Someone likes to make movies." He observed, reading the sticker underneath the camcorder, clearly marked 'Garber'.
"All the World's a stage. . ." Gil gestured, spreading his arms in the room.
"Let's get back to the lab, we'll keep an officer here until David can pick-up the body." Catherine suggested.
"And just when I was getting used to the smell." Sara mumbled, almost running out of the room.
***
"Oh! Hey!!"
Gil cringed upon hearing the high-pitched voice. He turned around, coming face to face with a, as Sara had aptly described it, glistening chest. His eyes flicked downwards and he jumped slightly, upon feeling an elbow in the rib. He glanced at Catherine, surprise etched on his face.
"You were staring." She whispered sweetly. "Hi, I'm Catherine Willows." She stuck her hand out amicably.
"Sasha Lover." The woman responded. "My boss told me you wanted to see me?"
" . . . a little too much." Sara grinned.
Gil held up a swab and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it just as fast. He pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to approach the subject.
"Look, can we swab your breasts?" Catherine asked casually. She smiled as the woman nodded, proceeded to get a sample and turned to leave the building. She walked by Gil, without even as much as a glance. ". . . mouth." She reminded him with a smirk.
***
" . . . what?!" The thick Texan accent echoed through the halls. "And I got a dead eighty-year old that may or may not be a homicide, that may or may not have eaten bad corn . . . accidentally!?"
Warrick grinned, walking alongside Sara and Nick. "Tough luck, man."
"What are you so chipper about - this isn't your case either." Nick observed. "I thought this was your day off."
"Yea, but I was called in to watch the video they recovered." Warrick provoked. "I'll write you up a review if you want."
The three reached the AV lab where Catherine and Gil were already seated.
"Grissom, how come Warrick gets to watch the porno flick?" Nick asked, glaring playfully at Warrick.
Sara chuckled and took a seat on the other side of Gil, confused at the look Catherine was giving her. The two women held gaze, as the dialogue between Nick and Warrick continued in the background.
Catherine narrowed her eyes, an odd feeling coursing through her veins. She had come to a decision; if the younger CSI nearly as touched Gil, she would not be responsible for her actions. Catherine glowered at Sara, warning her not to make any inappropriate moves.
". . . and further more, I was CSI level three before Warrick!" Nick concluded, crossing his arms over his chest.
Catherine glanced at Gil who was now slouched in his seat, looking up at the ceiling. She put a comforting hand on his knee and met his eyes when he jerked his head up, in her direction. "Nicky, you know Warrick specializes in audio-visuals." She reasoned. "Trust me, if we were having some sex romp, you'd be the first person I'd call." She joked, though her eyes caught her heart's desire.
Gil swallowed hard and averted his eyes, pretending to be enthralled by the case review. "Um, let's get started." He said in a shaky voice, images of Catherine and a given 'sex romp' taunting his sanity.
"Alright, alright." Nick relented and began to head to the lab - thinking he might as well be miserable with the lab rat, while waiting for his results.
He whipped around as Greg raced by him. "Ooh, did I miss the previews?" He juggled a steaming bag of popcorn from one hand to the next.
"Greg!" Nick walked up behind him. "You're watching too? What happened to my results?"
"Hodges." Greg mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn. He grinned. "I can't believe I'm getting paid to watch this!"
"Grissom!" Nick complained. "How can you let Greg do this?"
"You're right," Gil started and turned to the lab tech, "Greg, no popcorn in the AV room."
Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek and grabbed the bag of popcorn from Greg's hands. "You should all be ashamed." He said, popping a few kernels in his mouth.
"Enjoy your date with Hodges." Warrick called out, as Nick left the room.
Nick stopped and bit down on his tongue, twitched and continued his path to find his 'damsel in distress'.
"Alright, let's get this baby going!" Greg said, rubbing his hands together.
"Greg." Gil shot him a warning glance. "Go close the door." He popped the tape in, and the lights dimmed as the team began to watch.
"Starts off with a shot of an empty room, so whoever put it there, knew the room that Garber was going to be pleasured in." Catherine noted, writing down some notes.
"Maybe Zachary planted the camera there, and then made his entrance?" Sara offered.
"Nah," Warrick began, "I don't think it'll give him enough time to make it, if we go according to the time span on this tape."
"Wait!" Catherine interrupted, "do you see that?" She paused the tape and pointed to the top-right area of the screen. "A finger."
Sara shrugged. "So? We can't really print it, now can we?" She asked sarcastically.
"No, if Zachary and Sasha are already in the room, then who's finger is that?" Gil added, complementing Catherine's observations.
Catherine smiled and continued with the video. She watched the woman gyrate her hips, touch and tease her customer. "There we go." She said, watching as Zachary reached into his bag and handed her a bottle.
"The almond oil." Gil nodded.
"So she rubs it all over her torso - with his help of course . . ." Sara began. "And then what?"
All members of the team grimaced as 'Sasha' fed her breast to Zachary.
"Oh." Sara muttered.
"Ooooh." Greg leaned closer to the television.
They continued watching more dancing, rubbing and gyrating coming from the dancer's direction, until finally Zachary spasmed once and lay limp.
"Reminds me of Nick's 100th case, a while back." Warrick remembered how Nick had beat him to the promotion.
Silence adorned the room, as each person continued watching the glistening woman prod and touch the dead body and then rush out of the room.
Gil stopped the tape. "Warrick?" He asked the level three CSI.
Warrick shrugged. "I'm guessing heart-attack?"
Gil nodded and looked at Sara. "Sara?"
"I think that too." She glanced back at the tape. "Brass checked his records and he didn't have any past medical history involving an allergy to almonds."
Gil finally drew his eyes to Catherine, and he felt a warmth spread all over his body - a feeling he should have been used to by now, since her being always incited tel reaction. "Cath?"
Catherine's eyes danced from one person to the next. "Heart-attack?" She dismissed it. "Trust me, you can *not* get a heart-attack from a lap-dance, no matter how good the dancer claims to be."
"How can you be sure?" Sara asked.
"No man I've given a lap dance to has kicked the bucket." She paused, an impish smile illuminating her features. "They've come close to reaching the bright light, but they've always come back to me." She licked her lips seductively.
Sara could not ignore Catherine's flirtations, and though she was extremely jealous of her and Gil's relationship, she could not help but envy Catherine for not only her looks, but the whole package; Catherine had it all - the beauty, the brains, the confidence, a beautiful child and the heart of the man Sara could only dream about.
Gil cleared his throat. "Well, speculatory evidence would suggest a heart-attack, but I guess we have to wait for Doc Robbins's report."
The team sat in silence until Greg decided to voice his opinions.
"I think we should watch it again, just to be sure."
A collective groan slapped Greg across the face.
***
Catherine and Gil made their way to the morgue where Al Robbins was waiting for them, along with Zachary Garber, his physical-self anyway.
"So you really believe in the heart-attack jazz?" Catherine asked, as they rounded a corner.
Gil shrugged, his tongue resting on his lower lip as he thought. "It seems plausible, Catherine. And there are no other traumas . . . he might have gotten a little too excited."
Catherine rolled her eyes as they pushed open the doors to the morgue. "Doc." Catherine greeted him.
Al smiled and got straight down to business. "He experienced some respiratory failure - there's some bruising to the lungs. I also ran some tests to see about any haemorrhaging in the brain, and found that there was some damage to the central nervous system as well." The coroner handed both CSIs some documentation on his findings.
"What about his heart, doc?" Gil asked, as his eyes scanned the information regarding the deceased's respiratory system.
"The cardiovascular system failed him." Al stated plainly. He pointed to the victim's heart. "See, the tears in the tissue as well as part of the lower ventricle has collapsed."
Catherine looked at him incredulously. "Heart attack?"
Al Robbins nodded. "My guess . . . yeah." He shrugged. "We did find some traces of oil, but I've been informed that it is almond oil. Extremely bitter, but sharp too." Al commented, more to himself.
Gil nodded a thanks and he guided Catherine out of the morgue. They walked towards his office, his smirk leading the way. Stopping in front of his door, he turned and faced his partner.
"Not a word, Gil." Catherine warned him playfully. She pushed past him, stepping into his office. "I can't believe you would really think that he died of a heart-attack!" She plopped down onto his couch.
Gil sighed, and followed suite, opting for his chair. "So, what is your theory then?"
Catherine sat up and grinned, knowing that Gil was well-aware that she had a theory that needed to be voiced. "Okay, 'Sasha' is jealous because Zachary tipped 'Denny' more than her."
Gil nodded. "Okay, petty motive. How's the crime committed."
Catherine felt her toes tingle, loving it when he challenged her. She knew that Gil only provoked stimulation when he believed in one's capabilities, and at the moment, she felt pride rise up and caress her. She then paused, and scrunched up her face.
Gil chuckled softly. "There are no abrasions, no cuts, no external bruises, no evidence that he was smothered or suffocated . . ."
"Maybe so, but he did not have a heart-attack - not at 21, anyway!" Catherine yelled.
Gil sat back in his chair, loving how Catherine got so passionate that she became flustered. She got this glow whenever she truly believed in something, and he couldn't help but acquiesce with her demands. Gil gave her a lopsided grin. "Prove it." He whispered, and he saw her eyes light up.
"Proof?" She nodded, making her way to the little stereo that Gil had, tucked away beside his desk. She plugged it in, and extracted a 'rhythm and beats' CD from her purse. A melodious harmony of drums, xylophones and bongos filled the room as she sauntered towards the door, locking it.
Meanwhile Gil stood up and was now standing in front of his desk, watching her body absorb the music that flitted around.
Catherine moved to the beat, and danced towards Gil. Reaching him, she turned around, facing away and bent down, pressing her rear into the side of his thigh. She straightened abruptly and spun around, facing him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she walked him backwards, and pushed him down onto the couch.
"Cath," Gil whispered, his voice heavy with a serenade of lust and fear, "what are you doing?"
Catherine dropped to the floor, and 'cat-walked' over to him. "Working my theory. . ."
—TBC—
-----------------------------
Gil bent down at the waist, eyes squinting, and observed the victim. He pushed open the victim's unbuttoned shirt, and trailed his finger across the man's chest. He straightened, and held his latexed finger up to the dimmed light. "What do you make of this?" He held up his index finger to Catherine, who was kneeling on the floor, looking through the man's personals.
Catherine eyed him. "It looks like goo." She stated plainly.
"Smell it." He coaxed her.
She looked at him oddly and shook her head, but finally relented. "Smells like some kind of oil." She crinkled her nose, trying to pinpoint the smell. "It smells kind of familiar, though the vapors seems to be single-handedly destroying my nasal cavity." She muttered, riffling through Zachary Garber's bag.
"Smells like almonds." Gil said, leaning close to the victim's chest and inhaling.
Catherine glanced quickly at him. "Careful Gil, you're in quite a compromising situation." She grinned. "Don't want to give anyone the wrong impression."
"Who am I trying to impress?" He shot back, mischief clouding his sharp blues. Their eyes battled, knowing that they were but a step away from crossing the line between flirtatious banter and . . . his eyes mellowed. "Did you find anything?"
"Well, let's see here." Catherine dangled a bottle in front of Gil, who was now kneeling beside her.
"Almond oil?" Gil raised his eyebrow.
"Apparently it does wonders for your skin."
"Experience?" Gil asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Knowledge." She retorted, shutting him up.
Gil put his hands up in defence. "I'll take your word on it." He muttered. He looked back at the deceased. "So, could the dancer enjoy the contrast of bitter oils to the sweet smell of . . ." He stopped himself with shy grin. He glanced over at his companion, his eyes slowly roaming her body. "What did you use?" He asked, unashamed.
Catherine's brow furrowed and she gave him a playful whack on the shoulder. She leaned over, dropping her voice down to a husk. "I prefer just old-fashioned sweat." She whispered softly, and held back a smile when she heard him groan.
Gil couldn't help his mind's eye wander, especially hearing her use the present-tense. He conjured up images of her body, slick with her sweat, sliding along side his.
Catherine gazed into his eyes, seeing them darken with a veil of concoction - she knew what he was visualizing, and she dropped her head to her chest, hiding her secret smile. "So, uh, if it is the dancer's oil, what is it doing in the victim's bag?"
Gil's clouded eyes cleared and he shrugged. "Souvenir?"
"So, we questioned both the girls that entertained this lucky bastard for the evening." Jim explained, as he and Sara walked in.
"Did any mention a fetish for almond oil?" Gil asked, standing up, holding the small bottle between his index and his thumb.
Sara shook her head but put her finger up. "Wait - that first one, Sasha - her skin glistened, but not like sweat. . ." She trailed off, looking from Gil, to Catherine and finally to Jim. "What?" Then it dawned on her. "Uh, no - I wasn't looking - I . . . I'm a CSI damnit, it's my job to notice!" She exclaimed.
Catherine smiled. "Don't worry, Sara - I'm sure Jim can vouch for your observations." She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, motioning Jim ogling a poster.
"Hey Grissom." Jim called out. He pointed to the woman's nipple. "What do you think?"
Gil stepped up beside Jim and both men stood there, heads cocked to the side, staring intently at the naked woman's breast. "It looks odd, misshapen a bit." He commented and spun around when he heard Catherine clear her throat.
"I know the human body is considered a masterpiece, but this is ridiculous!" She pointed to their critique of the poster-girl's nipple.
Gil raised his eyebrow and turned back to the poster. He stood on the balls of his feet, giving him a little more height, and passed a finger across the shiny photo-finish of the image.
Catherine bit down on her tongue upon witnessing such an accidental intimate act by her supervisor. She closed her eyes, trying to force the sexual tension that had been building up for well over seventeen years, out of her system, but the image of Gil's hands - gloved or not - caressing her breasts were too pleasing to pass up.
"Ah-ha! Caught you. . ."
Catherine's eyes grew wide at the sound of Gil's rich tenor voice, thinking she'd been caught mid-way through one of her fantasies. She breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes focussed on the back of the team's head - all of whom seemed to have ventured to the lude image. She walked up, standing on tippy-toes, looking over Gil's shoulder. She tried to inhale discreetly, wanting to brand his scent in her memory, threatening her senses to never forget his distinct smell, one that just emanated comfort.
Gil held up a translucent circular piece of material. "Dark on one side, see-through on the other." A lopsided grin soon followed. He glanced back up at the poster where a hole now lay, gawking back at them.
"Implosion." Jim muttered under his breath and then glanced at the team. "What?" He laughed, off their grimaces.
Catherine picked up a chair and climbed up. "Where there's a will, there's a camera." She said, picking up a camcorder.
Jim shook his head. "Someone likes to make movies." He observed, reading the sticker underneath the camcorder, clearly marked 'Garber'.
"All the World's a stage. . ." Gil gestured, spreading his arms in the room.
"Let's get back to the lab, we'll keep an officer here until David can pick-up the body." Catherine suggested.
"And just when I was getting used to the smell." Sara mumbled, almost running out of the room.
***
"Oh! Hey!!"
Gil cringed upon hearing the high-pitched voice. He turned around, coming face to face with a, as Sara had aptly described it, glistening chest. His eyes flicked downwards and he jumped slightly, upon feeling an elbow in the rib. He glanced at Catherine, surprise etched on his face.
"You were staring." She whispered sweetly. "Hi, I'm Catherine Willows." She stuck her hand out amicably.
"Sasha Lover." The woman responded. "My boss told me you wanted to see me?"
" . . . a little too much." Sara grinned.
Gil held up a swab and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it just as fast. He pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to approach the subject.
"Look, can we swab your breasts?" Catherine asked casually. She smiled as the woman nodded, proceeded to get a sample and turned to leave the building. She walked by Gil, without even as much as a glance. ". . . mouth." She reminded him with a smirk.
***
" . . . what?!" The thick Texan accent echoed through the halls. "And I got a dead eighty-year old that may or may not be a homicide, that may or may not have eaten bad corn . . . accidentally!?"
Warrick grinned, walking alongside Sara and Nick. "Tough luck, man."
"What are you so chipper about - this isn't your case either." Nick observed. "I thought this was your day off."
"Yea, but I was called in to watch the video they recovered." Warrick provoked. "I'll write you up a review if you want."
The three reached the AV lab where Catherine and Gil were already seated.
"Grissom, how come Warrick gets to watch the porno flick?" Nick asked, glaring playfully at Warrick.
Sara chuckled and took a seat on the other side of Gil, confused at the look Catherine was giving her. The two women held gaze, as the dialogue between Nick and Warrick continued in the background.
Catherine narrowed her eyes, an odd feeling coursing through her veins. She had come to a decision; if the younger CSI nearly as touched Gil, she would not be responsible for her actions. Catherine glowered at Sara, warning her not to make any inappropriate moves.
". . . and further more, I was CSI level three before Warrick!" Nick concluded, crossing his arms over his chest.
Catherine glanced at Gil who was now slouched in his seat, looking up at the ceiling. She put a comforting hand on his knee and met his eyes when he jerked his head up, in her direction. "Nicky, you know Warrick specializes in audio-visuals." She reasoned. "Trust me, if we were having some sex romp, you'd be the first person I'd call." She joked, though her eyes caught her heart's desire.
Gil swallowed hard and averted his eyes, pretending to be enthralled by the case review. "Um, let's get started." He said in a shaky voice, images of Catherine and a given 'sex romp' taunting his sanity.
"Alright, alright." Nick relented and began to head to the lab - thinking he might as well be miserable with the lab rat, while waiting for his results.
He whipped around as Greg raced by him. "Ooh, did I miss the previews?" He juggled a steaming bag of popcorn from one hand to the next.
"Greg!" Nick walked up behind him. "You're watching too? What happened to my results?"
"Hodges." Greg mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn. He grinned. "I can't believe I'm getting paid to watch this!"
"Grissom!" Nick complained. "How can you let Greg do this?"
"You're right," Gil started and turned to the lab tech, "Greg, no popcorn in the AV room."
Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek and grabbed the bag of popcorn from Greg's hands. "You should all be ashamed." He said, popping a few kernels in his mouth.
"Enjoy your date with Hodges." Warrick called out, as Nick left the room.
Nick stopped and bit down on his tongue, twitched and continued his path to find his 'damsel in distress'.
"Alright, let's get this baby going!" Greg said, rubbing his hands together.
"Greg." Gil shot him a warning glance. "Go close the door." He popped the tape in, and the lights dimmed as the team began to watch.
"Starts off with a shot of an empty room, so whoever put it there, knew the room that Garber was going to be pleasured in." Catherine noted, writing down some notes.
"Maybe Zachary planted the camera there, and then made his entrance?" Sara offered.
"Nah," Warrick began, "I don't think it'll give him enough time to make it, if we go according to the time span on this tape."
"Wait!" Catherine interrupted, "do you see that?" She paused the tape and pointed to the top-right area of the screen. "A finger."
Sara shrugged. "So? We can't really print it, now can we?" She asked sarcastically.
"No, if Zachary and Sasha are already in the room, then who's finger is that?" Gil added, complementing Catherine's observations.
Catherine smiled and continued with the video. She watched the woman gyrate her hips, touch and tease her customer. "There we go." She said, watching as Zachary reached into his bag and handed her a bottle.
"The almond oil." Gil nodded.
"So she rubs it all over her torso - with his help of course . . ." Sara began. "And then what?"
All members of the team grimaced as 'Sasha' fed her breast to Zachary.
"Oh." Sara muttered.
"Ooooh." Greg leaned closer to the television.
They continued watching more dancing, rubbing and gyrating coming from the dancer's direction, until finally Zachary spasmed once and lay limp.
"Reminds me of Nick's 100th case, a while back." Warrick remembered how Nick had beat him to the promotion.
Silence adorned the room, as each person continued watching the glistening woman prod and touch the dead body and then rush out of the room.
Gil stopped the tape. "Warrick?" He asked the level three CSI.
Warrick shrugged. "I'm guessing heart-attack?"
Gil nodded and looked at Sara. "Sara?"
"I think that too." She glanced back at the tape. "Brass checked his records and he didn't have any past medical history involving an allergy to almonds."
Gil finally drew his eyes to Catherine, and he felt a warmth spread all over his body - a feeling he should have been used to by now, since her being always incited tel reaction. "Cath?"
Catherine's eyes danced from one person to the next. "Heart-attack?" She dismissed it. "Trust me, you can *not* get a heart-attack from a lap-dance, no matter how good the dancer claims to be."
"How can you be sure?" Sara asked.
"No man I've given a lap dance to has kicked the bucket." She paused, an impish smile illuminating her features. "They've come close to reaching the bright light, but they've always come back to me." She licked her lips seductively.
Sara could not ignore Catherine's flirtations, and though she was extremely jealous of her and Gil's relationship, she could not help but envy Catherine for not only her looks, but the whole package; Catherine had it all - the beauty, the brains, the confidence, a beautiful child and the heart of the man Sara could only dream about.
Gil cleared his throat. "Well, speculatory evidence would suggest a heart-attack, but I guess we have to wait for Doc Robbins's report."
The team sat in silence until Greg decided to voice his opinions.
"I think we should watch it again, just to be sure."
A collective groan slapped Greg across the face.
***
Catherine and Gil made their way to the morgue where Al Robbins was waiting for them, along with Zachary Garber, his physical-self anyway.
"So you really believe in the heart-attack jazz?" Catherine asked, as they rounded a corner.
Gil shrugged, his tongue resting on his lower lip as he thought. "It seems plausible, Catherine. And there are no other traumas . . . he might have gotten a little too excited."
Catherine rolled her eyes as they pushed open the doors to the morgue. "Doc." Catherine greeted him.
Al smiled and got straight down to business. "He experienced some respiratory failure - there's some bruising to the lungs. I also ran some tests to see about any haemorrhaging in the brain, and found that there was some damage to the central nervous system as well." The coroner handed both CSIs some documentation on his findings.
"What about his heart, doc?" Gil asked, as his eyes scanned the information regarding the deceased's respiratory system.
"The cardiovascular system failed him." Al stated plainly. He pointed to the victim's heart. "See, the tears in the tissue as well as part of the lower ventricle has collapsed."
Catherine looked at him incredulously. "Heart attack?"
Al Robbins nodded. "My guess . . . yeah." He shrugged. "We did find some traces of oil, but I've been informed that it is almond oil. Extremely bitter, but sharp too." Al commented, more to himself.
Gil nodded a thanks and he guided Catherine out of the morgue. They walked towards his office, his smirk leading the way. Stopping in front of his door, he turned and faced his partner.
"Not a word, Gil." Catherine warned him playfully. She pushed past him, stepping into his office. "I can't believe you would really think that he died of a heart-attack!" She plopped down onto his couch.
Gil sighed, and followed suite, opting for his chair. "So, what is your theory then?"
Catherine sat up and grinned, knowing that Gil was well-aware that she had a theory that needed to be voiced. "Okay, 'Sasha' is jealous because Zachary tipped 'Denny' more than her."
Gil nodded. "Okay, petty motive. How's the crime committed."
Catherine felt her toes tingle, loving it when he challenged her. She knew that Gil only provoked stimulation when he believed in one's capabilities, and at the moment, she felt pride rise up and caress her. She then paused, and scrunched up her face.
Gil chuckled softly. "There are no abrasions, no cuts, no external bruises, no evidence that he was smothered or suffocated . . ."
"Maybe so, but he did not have a heart-attack - not at 21, anyway!" Catherine yelled.
Gil sat back in his chair, loving how Catherine got so passionate that she became flustered. She got this glow whenever she truly believed in something, and he couldn't help but acquiesce with her demands. Gil gave her a lopsided grin. "Prove it." He whispered, and he saw her eyes light up.
"Proof?" She nodded, making her way to the little stereo that Gil had, tucked away beside his desk. She plugged it in, and extracted a 'rhythm and beats' CD from her purse. A melodious harmony of drums, xylophones and bongos filled the room as she sauntered towards the door, locking it.
Meanwhile Gil stood up and was now standing in front of his desk, watching her body absorb the music that flitted around.
Catherine moved to the beat, and danced towards Gil. Reaching him, she turned around, facing away and bent down, pressing her rear into the side of his thigh. She straightened abruptly and spun around, facing him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she walked him backwards, and pushed him down onto the couch.
"Cath," Gil whispered, his voice heavy with a serenade of lust and fear, "what are you doing?"
Catherine dropped to the floor, and 'cat-walked' over to him. "Working my theory. . ."
—TBC—