"Don't blame yourself," Grissom said kindly. "You didn't know."
"I should have known. That's just it. I should have known when he asked. I should have known."
Sara's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
"What did you tell him?" Brass asked.
"The truth. I don't have a sword in my room. Come on, would I be that stupid?" Chapin looked insulted.
Grissom and Sara exchanged glances. "We'll let the evidence be the judge," they said in unison.
Brass smiled. "Good idea. Sara, why don't you go to the lab, try to make sense of this? Gil or I will contact you if we find something interesting."
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Dr. Albert Robbins looked up when Sara arrived in the morgue. "I heard you and Gil have got an interesting case."
"Greg and Jacqui were saying the same thing earlier," Sara said. "Word spreads fast around here." She looked at the corpse, now covered with a sheet.
"Well, I know this much. Your guy was murdered. The cause of death was decapitation. But there is something curious here." The coroner folded back the sheet far enough to reveal the cut in Coulter's abdomen. "What do you make of this, Sara? The wound is clean. There are no hesitation marks. It could be post-mortem."
Sara looked at the wound again, marveling at how an injury can look more disgusting under bright lighting in the morgue. She gently probed the intact skin around the wound before probing the wound itself. "Suicide," she murmured.
Robbins looked up. "You mean murder, don't you?"
"If I say suicide, I mean suicide," Sara said. "More specifically, seppuku."
"Hold it, Sara." Robbins held up one hand. "What are you talking about?"
"It's traditional ritual suicide. There's an ancient version where you just slice your gut open, and there's a modern version where you slice your gut open and a friend decapitates you."
"Whoa, what's the point of that?"
"Honor." Sara cradled the lifeless hand of Michael Coulter in her own. "Why would anyone do such a thing, Albert?"
"Don't misunderstand me, Sara. I respect you. I trust your judgment. But this.this screams murder. I can't think of any other explanation. Michael Coulter was murdered. He didn't commit suicide." Robbins tapped one finger against the table.
Sara's cell phone rang, breaking the brief moment of silence. "Sidle." She stepped back and watched Michael's hand fall back where it was.
"It's Grissom. Where are you?"
"In the morgue."
"Did you find anything?" Grissom asked.
"Just that Dr. Robbins believes our guy was murdered. What did you find out?"
"We're taking them in. Actually, Brass is taking them in. We found the sword."
"Great," Sara said. "Any new information?"
"According to Nicole, Dave lied about not having a sword in his room and Tara lied about not knowing how much Mr. Coulter lost. Plus, I think there's something else going on that nobody wants to discuss."
Sara cursed under her breath. "So Dave had a sword in his room, everyone knew that Michael wasn't doing so well in the casinos, and you think there's something else going on? Thanks a lot," she said.
"No problem," Grissom said. "Meet us at the interrogation rooms, okay?"
"I'll be there." Sara ended the call. "I hope they won't be springing anything on me."
"Did something happen?"
Sara shrugged. "They found the weapon. Brass is bringing Tara, Dave, and Nicole in for questioning. Grissom's got a hunch that they aren't telling the whole truth."
The coroner smiled slightly. "I thought Grissom followed evidence and not hunches."
"Yeah, so did I." Sara looked at the corpse on the table.
"I'll page you when I get results, okay?" Robbins asked.
"You always do," Sara returned, patting the coroner on the shoulder. "Look, I have to go. Don't want to miss my appointment." She hurried out of the morgue, removed the scrubs, and made her way to the interrogation rooms.
"I should have known. That's just it. I should have known when he asked. I should have known."
Sara's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
"What did you tell him?" Brass asked.
"The truth. I don't have a sword in my room. Come on, would I be that stupid?" Chapin looked insulted.
Grissom and Sara exchanged glances. "We'll let the evidence be the judge," they said in unison.
Brass smiled. "Good idea. Sara, why don't you go to the lab, try to make sense of this? Gil or I will contact you if we find something interesting."
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Dr. Albert Robbins looked up when Sara arrived in the morgue. "I heard you and Gil have got an interesting case."
"Greg and Jacqui were saying the same thing earlier," Sara said. "Word spreads fast around here." She looked at the corpse, now covered with a sheet.
"Well, I know this much. Your guy was murdered. The cause of death was decapitation. But there is something curious here." The coroner folded back the sheet far enough to reveal the cut in Coulter's abdomen. "What do you make of this, Sara? The wound is clean. There are no hesitation marks. It could be post-mortem."
Sara looked at the wound again, marveling at how an injury can look more disgusting under bright lighting in the morgue. She gently probed the intact skin around the wound before probing the wound itself. "Suicide," she murmured.
Robbins looked up. "You mean murder, don't you?"
"If I say suicide, I mean suicide," Sara said. "More specifically, seppuku."
"Hold it, Sara." Robbins held up one hand. "What are you talking about?"
"It's traditional ritual suicide. There's an ancient version where you just slice your gut open, and there's a modern version where you slice your gut open and a friend decapitates you."
"Whoa, what's the point of that?"
"Honor." Sara cradled the lifeless hand of Michael Coulter in her own. "Why would anyone do such a thing, Albert?"
"Don't misunderstand me, Sara. I respect you. I trust your judgment. But this.this screams murder. I can't think of any other explanation. Michael Coulter was murdered. He didn't commit suicide." Robbins tapped one finger against the table.
Sara's cell phone rang, breaking the brief moment of silence. "Sidle." She stepped back and watched Michael's hand fall back where it was.
"It's Grissom. Where are you?"
"In the morgue."
"Did you find anything?" Grissom asked.
"Just that Dr. Robbins believes our guy was murdered. What did you find out?"
"We're taking them in. Actually, Brass is taking them in. We found the sword."
"Great," Sara said. "Any new information?"
"According to Nicole, Dave lied about not having a sword in his room and Tara lied about not knowing how much Mr. Coulter lost. Plus, I think there's something else going on that nobody wants to discuss."
Sara cursed under her breath. "So Dave had a sword in his room, everyone knew that Michael wasn't doing so well in the casinos, and you think there's something else going on? Thanks a lot," she said.
"No problem," Grissom said. "Meet us at the interrogation rooms, okay?"
"I'll be there." Sara ended the call. "I hope they won't be springing anything on me."
"Did something happen?"
Sara shrugged. "They found the weapon. Brass is bringing Tara, Dave, and Nicole in for questioning. Grissom's got a hunch that they aren't telling the whole truth."
The coroner smiled slightly. "I thought Grissom followed evidence and not hunches."
"Yeah, so did I." Sara looked at the corpse on the table.
"I'll page you when I get results, okay?" Robbins asked.
"You always do," Sara returned, patting the coroner on the shoulder. "Look, I have to go. Don't want to miss my appointment." She hurried out of the morgue, removed the scrubs, and made her way to the interrogation rooms.