See chapter 1 for disclaimers, rating, etc.

(H/C)

"Blood is certainly stickier than water."

Robert Barnard

(H/C)

Juan was a bit tense but relieved as he faced Adele and Horatio across the interrogation table. Police headquarters wasn't half as frightening as Meg Donovan. Besides, in thinking things over on the ride down, he wasn't yet convinced they could prove anything.

"Yeah, I came into the tack room and saw Pete. But I didn't kill him. My fingerprints aren't anywhere on that hook."

"No, but I'm sure they're on the penicillin bottle, the DMSO, the camera, and the medical information notebook," Horatio replied.

Adele tossed the picture across the table, still trying to decide herself where she had seen the other man. "Who is that?"

Juan barely glanced at it. "I don't remember. Just a conversation, though."

"What was the other picture of?" Horatio wondered. "The one on the last roll of film. Pete had to get something more than you just talking to a man to be killed for it."

"I'm telling you, I didn't kill him."

Eric approached the room where Calleigh and Charles Donovan were watching outside through the window. Charles had tagged along with quiet assumption, wanting to see the end of this one. Meg, satisfied with the completion of her personal mission, stayed behind at the track with her horse, telling him she would meet him later. "How's it going?" Eric asked.

"He's convinced we've got no proof right now," Charles said. He had settled into the investigation like a rider pulling on a comfortable, well-broken-in pair of boots. "Fingerprints back yet?"

"Speed's running them. I came up with something really interesting on the money, though." A standard weapons pat down had revealed that Juan was wearing a money belt. On further search, justified because a money belt could conceal a small knife, they found no weapons but nearly $1000. Horatio had asked Eric to process the money, especially looking for drugs. Eric tapped on the door now, and Horatio and Adele came out to join him.

"What do you have, Eric?"

"No trace of drugs, H, but something even better. Three of the twenties in that money are in the system. The serial numbers trace to that bank robbery last week."

Horatio abruptly came to attention as the puzzle pieces snapped together in his mind. "That second man. If we delete the Marlins baseball cap and add glasses, that's the bank robber from the security camera."

Calleigh pictured it, then nodded. "Probably the glasses were just for the robbery."

"And the cap is a disguise to throw people off right now," Charles said. "Everybody is busy at the track, though, especially in the mornings. I doubt he'd be noticed."

Adele hesitated. "Why would a bank robber come down to Gulfstream Park just to give a groom part of his take?"

"Blackmail?" Eric suggested. "Juan recognized him. We know Juan was from this area. Maybe he was an old friend or something, and Juan was buying his silence."

"It didn't look like an annoyed conversation in the picture, though," Adele put in.

"No," Charles said suddenly. "They were trying to launder the take to make sure they got rid of the bait money." Bait money was a special bundle kept at each teller window and the vault in case of robbery. It looked exactly like all other bundled money, but those bills had been photocopied with two copies kept by the bank, one off site. In a robbery, the teller would be sure to include that bundle, providing bills with recorded serial numbers to catch the thief.

Adele still wasn't quite sure what to make of Charles. "Trying to launder the bait money? How?"

"Betting. Saturday, there will be over 70,000 people at the races, and on-track handle for that one day will be around 15 million cash. Juan probably was going to bet with it. No cashier would ever remember an individual in that crowd, and the bills wouldn't be noticed until later." He frowned slightly. "It's a great setting to launder money, but I'd hate to bet with the money if I were a bank robber. You might lose."

"But Juan," Horatio said, "thought he had discovered the perfect betting system. He didn't think he could lose."

Speed came up at that point. "Juan's fingerprints match prints on the penicillin, the DMSO, the camera, the notebook, and the film box."

"Nice work. You and Eric go back to Gulfstream Park and search Juan's room. Thoroughly search it, I mean, not just the trash this time. You're looking for money. He couldn't keep all of it with him in the money belt. Try under the mattress."

Speed looked dubious. "Who would be stupid enough to put money under the mattress in a dorm?"

"Juan isn't exactly a Mensa candidate," Adele pointed out.

Speed glanced at Juan through the window, then conceded that point. "Right. On our way, H."

The two CSIs headed off, and Horatio turned to Calleigh. "Cal, run a background check on Juan for previous employment, please. We know he's had several jobs and couldn't keep them. See if he ever worked at a bank. The average public wouldn't know about bait money." She nodded and headed for the nearest computer, and Horatio turned to Charles. "So he recognized the robber from the TV news. They had a TV in the dorm. He contacted him and . . ." The line of thought hit a roadblock. "How would he do that? There's a public phone in the dorms, but every time I went by there, the line was four or five people long. Hardly the place to plan your illegal money laundering. And a groom wouldn't be likely to have a cell phone. Not on that pay."

"Maybe he borrowed Randy's," Charles suggested. "Randy has a cell phone because he's always talking to owners all around the country. I've seen him loan it to a groom or someone now and then, just for local calls. Juan could have said he wanted to call family. Eric did say he was from around here."

Horatio smiled at the thought. "If he did, we can get the number from the records. That should lead us to the other man. We can compare the days on the security gate log, too. He would have had to show ID to get in, especially Breeders' Cup week. There can't be too many outsiders through there on both the day the first picture was taken and the day before Pete's death. So Juan contacted his old friend, warned him about bait money mixed in with the other, and offered to launder the bills for a percentage. The thief came down to the track, probably said he was looking for a job to get through the gate, and brought him the money in a few stages to keep it unobtrusive. Pete probably photographed him handing Juan an envelope. Something like that. Only unfortunately for Pete, Juan noticed. They wouldn't want that shot in a book."

Adele was confused. "Why didn't the thief just bet himself Saturday? Why bother sneaking onto the backstretch and giving the money to Juan?"

"The Breeders' Cup is sold out," Charles replied. "Not that you can't bet off track, but you could only find that large a crowd to get lost in on track at Gulfstream on Saturday. The track workers will already be there, but if you wanted a ticket at this stage, you'd have to go to the scalpers."

Calleigh returned at that point. "Juan worked at a bank, among about 20 other jobs. Very briefly."

Horatio thanked her with a smile. "Let's have another discussion with Juan, shall we?" He re-entered the interrogation room. "Juan, I've got good news."

Juan straightened up. "You've realized I'm innocent."

"No," Horatio replied. "But you aren't going to have to worry about holding down a job for a long time. Murder plus bank robbery. I believe your future is secure."

Juan came rocketing out of his seat, and the officer behind him pushed him back down. "I never robbed a bank."

"You're an accessory, though. Right now, CSIs are going back to search your dorm room. We'll find the rest of the money, including the bait money. You had it stashed to bet with Saturday. We'll also get call records from Randy's cell phone. It's just a matter of time before we can prove everything, Juan."

Juan was sweating now. "You can't search my room at the dorm without a warrant," he objected.

Horatio smiled at him with devastating politeness. "We don't need a warrant. We've got full cooperation on this case from the owner of the premises. And that, Juan, would be Gulfstream Park, not you."

Juan's shoulders slumped in defeat. "If he hadn't fallen on that hook, you never would have known."

"You're wrong," Horatio stated. "There were too many other suspicious circumstances, such as the camera not being properly loaded. Nothing obvious to cause the anaphylaxis. This plot had holes you could drive a truck through."

Juan's tone was wounded at life's unfairness to criminals, reminding Horatio briefly of Stewart Otis. "It was supposed to be an accident."

"Murder," Horatio said icily, "is never an accident." He nodded to the officer, who came forward to cuff Juan. Horatio turned away and exited the room.

Just as he closed the door, Valera came up shedding excitement like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. "H, I've got it! Took a while, but if you delete the baseball cap and add glasses, he's . . ."

"The bank robber from last week," Horatio replied. "Thank you, Valera. Nice work. Come on, Cal, Charles, let's go catch a bank robber."

Valera stood staring after them. Finally, she turned away and spoke with annoyed admiration too softly for anyone around to hear. "Sometimes, I hate that man."

(H/C)

Randy had indeed loaned his cell phone to Juan, and records gave them both a number and a familiar name. Jose Delgado, brother to Juan Delgado. His name also appeared on the security gate log three times that week. Speed and Eric found close to $8,000 hidden in Juan's dorm room under the mattress. So Horatio, Calleigh, Charles, Adele, and two officers headed over to Jose Delgado's cheap apartment to pick him up, with Charles carefully staying behind the others. Calleigh and Horatio waited with one officer at the fire escape as the others went to the front. "After all," Horatio reminded them, "he is Juan's brother. He might bolt, too."

The knock of authority could be heard even on the fire escape, followed by the command, "Miami-Dade Police! Open up!"

Jose bolted, running out the back door and straight into Horatio's gun. He froze, then slowly raised his hands, his dark features going as pale as they could. "Back inside," Horatio ordered, and Jose backed away into the apartment.

Adele read him his rights as one of the officers cuffed him. "Jose Delgado, you're under arrest for bank robbery."

"However," Horatio put in, "your brother Juan is under arrest for murder. You might cut a deal with the DA yourself for a lighter sentence if you testify against him."

Jose glanced around the officers. "You want me to rat on my brother?"

"Your choice, but it would be a good idea," Charles stated. "I'm sure he'll be returning the favor, too, as soon as he gets down to thinking of it."

Horatio took over smoothly. "So, Jose, having your rights and your upcoming trial in mind, do you want to tell us anything?"

Jose broke down. Just a weak, small-time criminal, Calleigh thought in disgust. A weak, small-time criminal whose actions had led to the death of another human being. "I swear, I didn't have anything to do with that man's death. That was Juan. He called me the day after the robbery and said that some of the bills would be marked, but he could switch them on Saturday. I took it down in envelopes. But I never killed anybody. What I did was harmless."

Horatio wanted to hit him but held back with his usual restraint. "Harmless? You caused Pete Carter's death, Jose, whether you did it yourself or not. It was your crime that started all of this. Think about that while you're in prison, Jose. You are responsible for a murder."

Jose looked at him sullenly. "All of that money banks have. They even have insurance. They could have spared some of it." He really looked nothing like his brother, but at that moment, the resemblance was strong.

Horatio gave up. He could catch the criminals, but many of them would never see the fault in their actions. Prisons were full of people who honestly thought they were there unjustly. "Take him away," he stated, and the officers escorted Jose out the door to the waiting police car.

"What a family," Calleigh said. The more she saw of the world, the less she thought her parents had been the world's worst. Bad, yes, but they had lots of competition for the title.

Horatio read her mind and smiled at her. "There are good families, Cal. Like ours." She thought of life with this man and with Rosalind and smiled back at him.

"Which reminds me," Charles said, "would you two like to join us on Saturday? The owners get box seats, and Meg and I have plenty of room in our box with just the two of us."

Horatio glanced at Calleigh, who nodded. "We'd love to. If you have room for one more, I'd like to bring along a friend. She has a ticket, she said, but it was just general admission."

"No problem. Bring her along." They started toward the door themselves. "Thank you for letting me revisit my past today, Horatio. I miss this job sometimes. Hard but worthwhile."

Calleigh nodded. "We know exactly what you mean. At least the problems are solved for the moment."

"That's as much as we can ask for, I'm afraid," Horatio stated, but thinking of problems, his thoughts turned to that morning and to Speed. He hoped that all problems for his team would soon be solved. For the moment, at least.

(H/C)

Speed opened the door to his apartment that night to the smell of something cooking. In fact, something burning. Breeze was in the kitchen, and that fact startled him even more than her presence after the fight did. "You're cooking? I didn't know you could cook."

She opened the oven and removed a pan. "I can't."

"Then what . . ."

She slammed the pan of what might have with imagination been called cookies onto the top of the stove, then faced him with a look of dead-set stubbornness. "I'm totally failing at something. Since you obviously base your ego on being better at stuff than me, I'm showing you something I can't do. Don't you feel better now?"

"Bad choice, Breeze. I can't cook either. You probably beat me at that, too."

She waved a hand at the pan of alleged cookies, presenting the evidence to him. "You couldn't possibly be a worse cook than I am."

"Believe me, I could. You've never tasted my cookies. They are cookies, aren't they?"

"Yes, they're cookies. Okay, make yours, and we'll compare. They can't be worse than this. My little brother wouldn't even eat my cookies when we were growing up."

Speed started gathering ingredients and slamming them together in a bowl. "Breeze, this is stupid."

"I know that. It's obviously a big issue to you, though, so go ahead and make yours. If you want to beat me at something, this is your golden opportunity."

He reached for the mixer. "Wait a minute. After I make mine and we taste them, how do I know you won't just say mine are better to prove your point?"

They stared at each other for a minute. "Jury trial," Breeze said finally. "The verdict will come from a jury of our peers."

Speed put his pan in the oven and shut the door. "What peers? Eric would just laugh at us, Calleigh would tell us we were both stupid, and Horatio . . . I don't even want to think of what H would do. He'd start analyzing us instead of the cookies. Nobody's going to give us an honest opinion here."

"Kids," Breeze suggested. "Kids will give you an honest opinion on anything. Let's go give them to Alexx's kids."

Speed considered it. "Deal. Panel of two judges, no appeals." She extended her hand to him, and he solemnly shook it. They then both puttered around the kitchen, getting in each other's way but not speaking, until Speed's cookies were done. The more Speed thought about it, the more stupid he felt, but he wasn't about to be the first one to apologize with her acting this way.

Before long, two motorcycles, with two foil-covered plates in the bags, were headed across Miami, one yellow Ducati and one bike with a personalized plate of QKSLVR. Breeze ostentatiously held back to avoid arriving at Alexx's ahead of him because her bike was faster. Together, they stalked up the sidewalk to the door of the house and rang the bell.

Alexx opened the door and looked from one to the other of them, puzzled. "Tim? Breeze? What's going on?"

"We need to see your kids for a minute," Breeze stated.

Alexx studied them, noticing the tension and how they were deliberately not looking at each other. "What happened?"

"Nothing; we just need to see the kids. Are you going to let us in?" Speed asked.

She stepped back and swung the door wide. "Janie! Bryan! Somebody to see you." She stayed right there herself as the children scampered into the room.

"Hi, kids," Breeze said. She took the foil off her plate. "Want a cookie?"

"Have some of mine, too," Speed said, glaring at her. She even unwrapped her cookie plate faster than he did.

Two small hands came out, and the kids began to munch. Janie reacted first. Her face screwed up, and she actually spit the mouthful out. "Gross! Who made that? That's the worst cookie I've ever tasted."

Bryan pried his own bite out of his mouth and stuck it back on the edge of Speed's plate. "Can't be worse than this one. This is disgusting."

"Janie! Bryan! Mind your manners, now," Alexx said firmly, but the kids were looking at each other curiously. They exchanged partly-eaten cookies, and each tried the other one.

"Incredible," said Bryan.

"They're different, but they're both gross," Janie put in. She looked from Speed to Breeze. "Did you guys make these? If you did, you need lessons. They're both pathetic."

"Janie!" Alexx's voice reached her that time, and she looked down.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly.

Bryan shook his head. "Really, guys, I think you're both awful. You should just forget about it. Want one of my Mom's? She knows how to cook."

"Bryan!" Alexx was mortified at this whole conversation.

Speed and Breeze looked at each other. Speed spoke first. "It's okay, Alexx. We wanted an honest opinion, and we got one." He set his plate down on a table. "Keep these, kids."

"Yuck!" Janie replied.

"We don't want them!" Bryan protested.

Breeze set her plate down alongside the other. "Throw them away then, would you, Alexx? Come on, Tim."

"Thanks, Alexx," Speed stated as they headed for the door.

The ME looked from the kids to the cookies to her departing guests. "Anytime."

Once outside, Speed and Breeze walked down the sidewalk in silence. They got to the bikes before the first crack split the wall. Breeze snickered. Speed was grinning himself, and suddenly, they were both laughing so hard they couldn't even get on their bikes.

"That's the official verdict," Breeze gasped, having a hard time speaking. "We're both pathetic."

"Yep," Speed agreed. "No appeals, either, remember? Maybe we should just forget about it." He hadn't laughed this hard in months.

They apologized simultaneously.