Privacy by SLynn
Disclaimer: It's all mine, because yeah, this is what I'd do with my free time if I actually owned these characters.
Chapter 3: Never is Enough
Sara had woken up around five that evening surprised to find Greg already awake. He usually slept in later then she did no matter how late she stayed in bed. Padding around the house, still not use to the sheer size difference from either of their apartments, she'd found him in what he'd playfully dubbed his room. The spare room she'd stashed most of his things into.
"What are you doing?" she asked looking in on him.
He was on his hands and knees with the desk pulled away from the wall.
"Hooking up my computer," he answered before crawling back out again. "Killing time till you got up. I'm heading in soon; start processing that scene from last night."
"Let me shower and I'll go in with you," she offered.
He nodded once and then got back down to continue what he'd been doing until she was ready to go. Sara hadn't been out of the room but ten minutes when there was a knock at the front door. Once again reemerging, Greg went to see who it was.
"Hi there," came the friendly voice of the all but total stranger at his door. She looked familiar but he couldn't remember from where. She was short, brunette and probably in her forties. He guessed she had kids who played soccer. Lots of them.
"Hi," Greg returned.
"I'm Betty, I live across the street."
"Oh, yeah. With the Volvo right?"
"That's me," she said in a chirpy voice. "I wanted to stop by sooner and welcome you to the neighborhood but it just seems like you and your wife are in and out so much, I never knew if it was a good time or not. I stopped by earlier today but no one answered."
Greg had almost instinctively corrected her about Sara and him, but hadn't gotten the chance. He hadn't even gotten to tell her his name yet. He imagined if he had spoken, she wouldn't have heard him anyway.
"I brought you this," she continued, still smiling and chirping, "I baked it myself. It's a hobby of mine."
"Thanks," Greg said taking the offered cake and feeling a bit like they might have moved into the Twilight Zone.
"So," she let hang in the air expectantly.
"Oh, come in," Greg found himself saying despite wanting the very opposite.
"Thank you," she said walking right past him and into the living room. "It looks so different from how the Bakers had it. They're the one's who sold it to you. Nice enough couple, but they had problems."
Greg smiled and nodded as politely as he could, still holding the cake in front of him.
"Hey," Sara called as she walked up the hallway, "do you want…"
She stopped mid sentence as she saw Betty standing there staring back at her.
"Hello, I was just admiring your décor. It's so charming."
"Thanks," she said offering her hand, "I'm Sara. You are?"
"Betty," she smiled as she shook it. "I was just telling your husband here about the Bakers. They really were very nice, everyone was sorry to see them go."
As she said husband Sara cast him a look, a questioning look which he just managed to return one of his own, denial and a shrug, before Betty turned back to them both.
"We're not married," Sara said flatly.
Greg took that opportunity to remove himself and the cake into the kitchen. It was that or risk bursting out into laughter right there. The look on Betty's face said it all. Clearly it wasn't the Twilight Zone they'd moved into, but the 1950's.
"Nowadays hardly anyone is," Betty continued with a laugh, having recovered from the initial shock. "I had meant to stop by sooner, I was telling, your, um…your…"
"Greg," he offered having just returned.
"I was telling Greg that I hadn't figured out the best time to do it so I just took a chance. You both work then?"
"Yes," Sara said, "for the police department in the crime lab. Forensics. We work nights mostly."
"Oh, good. It's so nice to have officers of the law living in the neighborhood."
Neither of them bothered to correct her.
"You know Greg," Betty continued, "you look very familiar. Have you lived in the neighborhood before?"
"No," Greg said flatly. Lots of people found him familiar now, like it or not.
His tone must have done it for her. She welcomed them once more and then excused herself. Howard and the kids apparently were waiting.
As soon as she was gone Sara laughed.
"Wow," she said as she turned to him, soundly locking the door behind her.
"I think she's gone home to stitch you a scarlet A."
Sara laughed harder at this. It wasn't hard to imagine Betty doing it.
"How long was she here?" she asked, still laughing at the mental image of the expression that had flickered across Betty's face when she'd told her that they weren't married.
"Long enough for me to realize why the Bakers were so eager to sell."
Nearly everyone had shown up early that night.
Amy was running the toxin screens on their multiple homicides from the night before, so far getting very little in the way of results. Whatever it might have been was nearly out of their system or at least seemed to be.
Nick and Greg were going through the photos while Grissom caught up Sara and Catherine on the case.
Warrick, despite having the night off, joined them for the first few hours.
Before shift officially started they all sat down for take out and discussion. Grissom wanted to know where everyone was and to make sure they weren't missing anything early.
"Should we really be eating and talking about this?" Catherine asked.
It was kind of morbid. Ten people had died at a dinner table the night before.
"I think as long as we don't have what they were having we'll be okay," Greg offered to which she smiled at him.
"What about that?" Grissom asked, "What are we thinking, accidental?"
"That quick?" Nick asked back, "I don't see it. Accidental food poisoning usually just makes people sick, not dead. This happened in a hurry. Someone knew what they were doing."
"Do we know what it is yet?" Sara asked.
"Not yet," Amy sighed, "we don't even have a trace of it to go off of. Whatever it was absorbed right into the blood stream, quickly. Deaths happened too fast for cyanide. Maybe ricin."
"Usual suspects in this one?" Grissom began to question again.
"Not the butler," Greg answered, "but there is a newly disinherited son. Jason Warner, thirty. James Warner just changed his will three weeks ago cutting off his only son in favor of his new wife and daughter, Allyson."
"Where was the daughter last night?" Catherine asked growing concerned.
"Nanny took her to see a movie. Got her out of the house for all of the Warner's dinner parties," Greg finished. "Happened a lot I'm guessing."
"So he's got motive," Grissom pondered out loud. "Any others?"
"Yes," Warrick offered. "Greg's already betting on the son, but my money's on the sister-in-law. Angela Thomas, thirty-three. Older sister of the deceased Shania Warner. She's been living with her and the mister up until last week when she was told to pack up her things. Seemed she liked the lifestyle her little sister was living and wanted some of it for herself."
"Was there something going on with her and the husband?" Catherine asked.
"Don't know," Warrick answered. "Not yet at least."
"So who's taking custody of Allyson?" It was Sara's turn to ask.
"Right now the nanny is," Nick offered.
"So," Grissom summed up, "we don't know yet what was used or how it was delivered. We've got two suspects, both with motive, but did they have means? I want to know where they were when these deaths happened. We need to also know who was in that kitchen. If the food was poisoned, it happened there. Those are a lot of unanswered questions. Everyone clear on assignments?"
They all nodded, finishing and cleaning up as they went.
"I'm going to go help Hodges test food," Amy said leaving first.
Greg and Sara tried not to watch as Nick followed her out, obviously said something as he stopped her outside the door for a moment and kissed her once on the forehead. He came back in smiling a few seconds later.
"Better?" Greg asked with a stupid grin.
"Shut up," Nick returned but without sounding harsh. "We might as well start lifting prints off everything we picked up from last night."
"Sounds good," Greg said, squeezing Sara's hand once in the form of goodbye, before following him down the hall to the conference room where it was all waiting for them.
Before they got there his phone rang.
"I'll be right in," Greg said, turning to pick it up. Not checking the ID screen, he just answered it.
"Greg Sanders."
For a moment he was confused.
"Who is this?"
Nick, who hadn't gone it yet, stopped completely in the doorway curious at the exchange.
"No," Greg said clearly agitated. "No. I don't know how you got this number but do not call it again."
Greg slammed his phone shut, fuming.
"What was that all about?" Nick asked.
"That damn reporter again," Greg said turning round to face him. "Anderson something or something Anderson. I don't know. He won't let up."
"Same guy from the scenes?"
"Yeah, I guess. My fan base isn't that wide."
Nick looked at him concerned. Greg was really upset about this. Nick knew he was still having a rough time getting over the whole incident with Dr. Fenton and this asshole harassing him wasn't helping any.
"You talk with Grissom? Maybe he can get Brass or someone to casually stop by this guy's office and ask him nicely to knock it off."
Greg hadn't missed any of the implied meaning to that statement. Brass would probably go over personally and end up suspended. Greg had already seen him telling the guy off twice this last week.
"No," Greg argued, "it's not that important. He'll stop eventually. We got things to do tonight."
Nick said nothing more about it, just led the way back to the evidence.
Before following Greg turned off his phone. One reminder of everything he was trying to forget was enough for the night. Never was enough.