Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT

"I've Got Your Number – Part 2"

July 26, 2005 (Day 95)
Lady Heather's Dominion
12:18 a.m.

As they walked toward the candelabra-lit entrance of Lady Heather's dominion, Greg turned to Sara and joked, "How did you know to dress the part?"

"Excuse me?" It was hard to hear over her churning stomach.

"Tight black jeans, black tank, little black boots…you're going to blend with the working girls." He winked. "Not that I think you're bossy or anything."

When they got to the door, which was already opened and guarded by a police officer, Jim placed his hand on Greg's shoulder. "Good men have been known to get lost in this place so keep your focus. Don't make me drag you out of here." It was exactly what he should have done with Grissom after he didn't heed the repeated warnings. Glancing over at Sara he was thankful she knew nothing of the dalliance because it certainly would have made the situation awkward.

Hearing Jim's words sent a shiver up Sara's spine. Good men…she thought of one in particular. Wouldn't Jim be shocked to know it was Grissom?

Flashing their IDs, they breezed by the uniform at the door and stepped inside the alternate universe. Dozens of candles illuminated the foyer and at the top of the first landing was the lady herself posturing in black…a leather bustier, a floor length skirt slit up to her hip, fishnets and lethal knee-high boots. The only splash of color…her plump red lips.

Sara picked a piece of artwork on the wall and studied it while Greg inhaled every detail of the vixen posing in front of him.

"Lady Heather!" Brass jovially exclaimed, "It's been years! Funny how time flies when no one associated with you dies, but I guess all lucky streaks must come to an end. Okay, you know the drill…this is Greg Sanders and Sara Sidle, they're with the crime lab, like me, and we're all here to see the latest victim of your operation...Harry Wilson."

Slinking down the stairs, she noted who was in attendance and who wasn't. Once again she felt an inexplicable twinge of a usually unfamiliar emotion. When she reached the last step, she smiled. "Captain Brass."

Greg corrected her. "It's Assistant Lab Director Brass now."

"A promotion?" The right side of her mouth tipped. "Does it make you feel more powerful to have such an important title?"

Shrugging, he casually replied, "Most days it just makes me feel underpaid, but every once in a while I get a rise out of it."

"Ms. Sidle." Lady Heather beckoned, "We've met before at another crime scene, have we not?" Curving her lips into a wider smile she said, "Yes, I'm sure of it, but I recall you leaving rather suddenly. I hope it wasn't anything I said. I'm sometimes accused of being a bit blunt."

Finding her voice, Sara politely remarked, "I don't recall you saying anything significant. I was working. I'm sure I had something more important to do." Good…good…play it cool. This woman is a blip on the radar screen to Grissom, just like Brian Anderson was to me. If Grissom could sit across from Brian for almost an hour I can do this. Keep it professional. Keep it under control.

"And where is Mr. Grissom?" As predicted, Ms. Sidle winced at the mention of his name and when Lady Heather was certain she had her full attention she asked, "Didn't he feel like coming?" And when she got the desired reaction, she knew the game was afoot once more.

The double entendre wasn't lost on Brass, who found it thoroughly amusing until he realized the irony of whom she was saying it to. But he remembered Sara knew nothing and felt less guilty enjoying the lady's offbeat humor.

Greg was happy to finally find a reason to speak with the enchantress. "Actually, Grissom is out of town at a conference. Forensic Entomology. You know…bug science. He's really into it. Sara spoke with him earlier and he was all buzzed because his cockroach won the big race. It's kind of freaky, but so is Grissom."

Sara shot Greg a dagger. This woman didn't need to know any more personal information about Grissom. She knew far too much already.

Of course, Greg was so enthralled with Lady Heather he didn't notice Sara's glare.

Seeing Greg swoon, Brass clapped his hands twice. "Let's get on with the show, shall we? Where are we going, Lady Heather?"

"Follow me." With feline grace she mounted each step. "The deceased is in Classroom B."

"Ah…" Brass chuckled lightly. "He must have been a naughty little boy."

Pausing on the fourth step Lady Heather glanced over her shoulder and directed her comment at Greg. "I've yet to meet a boy who's not. However, I just met you, Mr. Sanders, so perhaps you'll prove my theory wrong." Then she shifted her eyes to Sara. "But I doubt it, because although men may appear civilized out in the real world, in mine they're all a little indecorous."

Not having a good retort handy, Sara kept her mouth shut and maintained strong eye contact. This time the woman was not going to get to her. Even if she popped in a video tape of her one night with Grissom it would be okay…well…actually, that would be way too much to handle, but barring that, Sara vowed not to be rocked by anything this woman had to say.

Winding up the staircase and playing off the latest information received courtesy of Mr. Sanders, Lady Heather weaved a tale. As luck would have it…well… not so lucky for dead Mr. Wilson, but for Lady Heather it was a coup…the dead guy's story fit her needs. "Mr. Wilson was an accountant and he was in town attending a convention. He had a tedious job and a tedious wife, but when he came to us two days ago, he finally found a cure for his monotony. He enjoyed it so much that he returned yesterday and again tonight."

Brass cut to the chase. "He found a cure and then it killed him."

"Not every man can handle what he truly desires, especially if he suppresses it long enough." At the top of the stairs, she paused to make sure she hadn't lost anyone's attention. "For years Mr. Wilson was bored with the trappings of suburbia and pretending to be titillated by his white-bread wife. So he leaves home for a few days and becomes someone else. He can do it here because it's safe. Sometimes you need to step into another world to fulfill your fantasies."

Brass quipped, "I'd like to step into Classroom B and fulfill my latest fantasy…finishing this investigation before dawn." Patting Greg on the back he groaned, "I'm sure the young buck is thrilled with your salacious storytelling skills but I've heard it all before and I'm the boss so I'm saying the magic words tonight…let's get moving."

Lady Heather obliged. "Exercising some of that new power, Mr. Brass? Tell me, did it make you feel underpaid or give you a rise?"

"I always feel underpaid when dealing with you, Honey."

Sara smiled inwardly. Hallelujah! Thank you Jim Brass! I would have said it myself if I wasn't gagging on her dubious diatribe. Not that there was any reason to doubt Grissom's dedication or think he, like the deceased Harry Wilson, would be stepping out of a conference for a foray in an alternative world tonight. Not a chance! By now Grissom was asleep in his hotel room getting rest for his presentation tomorrow.

When they reached the top of the tiered staircase, they proceeded past a variety of rooms, each harboring a different octave of scream or set of nefarious instructions.

"Hey, I remember this soundtrack," Brass remarked. "Biggest Hits of the Most Twisted." When he saw a man on a leash get tugged down the hall, Brass tapped Greg on the shoulder. "The leash I have you on tonight is much shorter than the one on that guy. I recognize that look in your eye, Greggo and you're so far up Lady Heather's skirt I'm starting to think you're a cross dresser." Stopping he motioned for Sara to step in front and follow Lady Heather. "Greg's enjoying the view a little too much, so I want you to take the lead."

"No problem, Jim." Sara did as requested and immediately noticed Lady Heather kick her swish up a notch. That's right…shake it. See if I care.

When Sara saw the uniform cop outside a room at the far end of the hall, she exhaled and thought, how odd I'm looking forward to spending time with a dead body over a live one.

"Who was working this room?" Brass asked as he produced a notepad.

"Athena."

Greg blurted, "Ahh…the goddess of wisdom."

"That's correct, Mr. Sanders." Leaning closer, Lady Heather whispered, "And trust me, Athena teaches many valuable lessons to our clients. Next to me, she's the best."

Scooting under the yellow crime tape hanging across the door, Sara acquainted herself with the scene. The room was set up like an old fashioned one room school house and there in the center was a shirtless dead guy slumped over an antique desk with a dunce cap still fastened on his head.

David Phillips was already there assessing the body.

"Hey," Sara said. "Whatcha thinking?"

"Fifty year old male, overweight, out of shape, out of his element. My guess would be Coronary episode…maybe some drugs involved. In any case, considering the scarring on his hands, wrists and arms plus the infamous locale…we would be remiss not to classify it suspicious circs." Returning some equipment to his bag, he stood. "Let me know when we can take him."

"Okay." Then she realized Greg was still in the hallway with Lady Heather and Brass. "Sanders! Am I working this alone or what!"

"Sorry, Sara." He hurried in and dropped down next to her. "What do you want me to do?"

From the hall Sara heard Lady Heather. "Nice work Ms. Sidle, he jumped quite high when you barked."

Greg grinned. "I think she likes me. What do you think?"

"Why would you want her?" Sara blurted, only realizing afterwards she didn't want to know his answer. But it was too late…

"What guy wouldn't want her? I mean you're not going to take her home to mama, but for one night! One week! One month!" He salivated. "She oozes sexuality like an exploding volcano oozes lava. I know she'd take me places a normal woman wouldn't dare tread and I'd wear her tread marks like a badge of honor."

That was exactly what Sara didn't want to know. "Can we focus on the vic for a change! You do remember why we're here, right? If not, take a whiff of the corpse in the room." Shoving the camera at him, she barked, "You take pictures, I'll process, then we can get the hell out of here."

In a zombie voice, Greg replied, "Yes, I submit to your will, Lady Sara."

"You haven't seen me snap, Greg, but keep it up and you will."

Standing with the camera he needled her. "Geez…I save your life a couple of weeks ago and now you're looking to kill me. Very nice. And all because I have an overactive Id." He started snapping photos. "Are you on that special health regimen again? Maybe you need some coffee. I'll buy you a grande on the way back to the lab."

She sighed as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves. On top of everything else he had to bring that up…what's next?

The first items Sara retrieved from the dead man's pants pockets were a wallet and a gold wedding band.

Greg remarked, "Looks like someone was feeling a little guilty and tucked away their ring." He snapped a couple more photos then asked, "Does Grissom have a ring like you do, Sara? Does he wear it when he's away from the lab so chicks..." He paused for a laugh, "or men shopping at Walgreens, know he's not available?"

"No. He doesn't." The thought never crossed her mind until now. Another thing to thank Greg for later. Mentally she started a list of reasons to be ticked at Greg. Of course she knew even a thousand reasons wouldn't be good enough to be mad at him considering she owed him her life.

Upon opening the wallet the first thing she saw was a family photo. "A wife, two kids and a retriever. Great. Why is it always a retriever? I'm glad Grissom and I only have bugs." She shook her head. "Imagine the phone call the wife gets tonight." It sickened her.

Greg took some close-ups of a ruler on the teacher's desk. "I think I found the source of the marks on his hands."

"I'll bag it." She groaned. "But it's not what killed him."

A half hour later, Sara and Greg left the room so David could finish.

It was also time to interview relevant parties…Athena and Lady Heather. The two women were waiting in Lady Heather's personal lair and Brass, Sara and Greg went to meet them.

Brass gave the orders. "Greg, you're with me and the goddess of wisdom. Sara, you handle Lady Heather." There was no way he was letting Greg, the poster child for needy boys nationwide, spend anytime in Lady Heather's presence.

Lady Heather pointed to a door on the left. "Why don't you go in there for privacy, Mr. Brass?"

"Thank you." Brass led the way.

"So, Ms. Sidle." Lady Heather took a seat at her table. "Think you can handle me like Mr. Brass requested? Or did Mr. Grissom mention I usually take the lead."

"Can we stop the BS now that we're alone?" Taking a seat across from her, Sara bluntly placed the cards on the table. "I know there's nothing I ever did to piss you off, because I only met you once for five minutes and before I said a word you were trying to humiliate me. So, my question is this…are you jealous of me or are you just a raging bitch? Huh? Which is it?"

"Jealous?" It was a bull's-eye but she'd never admit it. "You must be joking." Pointing to Sara's left hand she said, "I see you have a ring on your finger now. Tiffany's right?" A smirk popped up on her face. "Men used to tie women up and drag them around like chattel. What you have on your finger is the Victorian version of ownership. Being owned is the last thing I'd ever want."

"So you're just a raging bitch."

"I guess I am."

Sara shrugged. "Well if that's what it takes to get you through the night have at it. But I have a case to process so let's move on." She opened her notepad.

A snowball in hell had a better chance than the odds of Lady Heather giving up. "Does Mr. Grissom have a ring on his finger?"

Not looking up, Sara replied. "That's none of your business."

"That means no." Standing she decided to circulate the room. "Ownership is never a two way street. Someone is always the owner and someone is always the property. What else has he bought you besides that ring to keep you appeased? And why does he do it? Where is he tonight, Ms. Sidle?"

Jotting notes, she droned, "You heard Greg. He's at a conference."

"Yes, he's at a conference, but do you really know where he is?" Leaning against the mantle she continued her attack. "After all, Mrs. Wilson thinks her husband is at a conference too."

Sara laughed. "Is this supposed to scare me?"

"You're human…you have doubts, most likely because at some point by someone you've been betrayed. He's human…we know he's easily swayed." Her grin expanded. "You're sitting less than five feet away from where I swayed him. Do you how long it took him to fall? Five minutes tops." Finally she saw a reaction. "Has he been calling you while he's away? They always call…it's the guilt. Dead Mr. Wilson called his wife from the classroom to bid her good night." Coming to rest in front of Sara she taunted her viciously. "It was one last taste of the mundane before he stepped into his fantasy. A Judas kiss goodnight if you will. Where is Mr. Grissom? Are you sure you really know?"

With confidence Sara plucked her cell phone off her belt and punched his number. She knew it was almost two-thirty in the morning his time and he needed his rest to be fresh for his presentation, but she couldn't stop herself from proving the point.

Lady Heather folded her arms. "How many rings is that? Four? Five?"

Holding the phone to her ear, Sara's heart sank when she heard it go to voicemail. The one and only time she wasn't able to contact him and she had the worst possible audience.

"Hmm…" Lady Heather paced like a tigress once more. "I distinctly recall him turning off his phone when he stayed here. Actually…he left it where you are sitting. Don't feel bad Ms. Sidle. They're all the same. Didn't you see the look in Mr. Sanders' eyes? If given the opportunity, he'd be shutting off his phone and falling in minutes too. They are the weaker species. When you let Mr. Grissom put that ring on your finger you gave him the power. Now he's exercising some of it."

"Oh go to hell!" Fed up, Sara jumped out of her seat and let loose. "It was years ago and I don't really give a damn where Grissom stood or sat and believe it or not, I don't care where he slept with you. I don't care what you did to him and I don't care what he did to you, because it's irrelevant to our current life. You are irrelevant to our current life."

Taking back some power never felt better and with every declaration Sara gained momentum as Lady Heather remained speechless. "Yes, he gave me a ring, but it doesn't symbolize ownership, it symbolizes a commitment and because of that commitment, I can say with total confidence that I know there is a perfectly logical explanation for him not answering the phone. You're playing games with my head, hoping I'll have doubts but I don't…I won't. Do you hear me? You have no power over Grissom. You have no power over me. Game over!"

Much to their discomfort, Brass and Greg heard it all…every last awkward detail of Sara's speech.

"What's going on?" Brass quizzed while piecing together the puzzle.

It was then Sara realized that Brass and Greg heard every one of her passionate words.

Suddenly it all made sense to Brass. Sara knew about Grissom and Lady Heather and Lady Heather knew who Sara was. Thinking back to the first minutes in the house earlier, he realized the revelation didn't just happen, they both knew the whole time. Knowing he joked about it in front of Sara, turned his stomach.

Innocently she replied, "I offered Ms. Sidle a cup of tea and she snapped." Lady Heather eyed Greg. "Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Sanders?" Her point would be easily proven.

"No." Brass answered for Greg who was standing like a deer in headlights trying to make sense of Sara's heated words. "He doesn't want a cup of tea…but I do." He motioned for Sara and Greg to leave the room. "And shut the door behind you."

Once outside the room, Sara informed Greg. "I need to get some air."

"Hey, I'm worried about you." He took her arm. "Let me come with you. We'll take a walk around the block." He wondered what could be going on. First the incident with Tawny and now the insinuation that Lady Heather knew Grissom intimately. The Twilight Zone feeling was returning again. Had Grissom lied about Tawny? Was he really lying to Sara?

"Thank you but no." She held up her hand. "You stay here and work the case and I'll be back in a few minutes. All I need is a few minutes."

Gravely concerned, Greg watched her hurry down the hall but respected her wish and didn't follow her.

Once outside, Sara retreated to the truck to sort her rational and irrational thoughts. 99.9 of her believed in Grissom but that infinitesimal percentage of doubt remaining was fueled by the memories of a lifetime of betrayals.

Thankfully, she was only inside the truck for a few seconds when her phone rang. It was him. After taking two deep breaths she answered. "Hi, Honey."

"Sorry I missed your call."

The sound of his voice soothed her. "What are you doing awake? You should be sleeping."

"After I spoke with you earlier, I fixed my presentation materials with those new numbers you gave me. Then I took them to the twenty-four hour business center at the hotel. They said it was going to take twenty minutes so I took a walk."

"A walk?" Her breathing was returning to normal.

"Around the block…to clear my head. Someone told me to do that once when I was frustrated, but I didn't listen to her."

It was another memory and it couldn't have come at a better time. Dropping her head in her hand, she sniffled and smiled. "Did it work?"

"Nope. I think it would have worked if the girl was with me though." He chuckled lightly. "Then and now."

Her sniffles went away but the smile remained. "So, what did you do after the walk?"

"You'll love this. The fresh air woke me up and I couldn't sleep, so I ordered a movie."

"Which movie?" Eager, she waited for him to say what she hoped he would say.

"Bridget Jones Two of course."

It was the answer she was waiting for. "You did not!" She had seen it with Catherine when it was in the theater because he had no interest.

"That part in the Thai prison was ludicrous. Do you know what kind of unsanitary conditions she would have experienced? We're expected to believe she walks away without scabies or dysentery? Please. I have to admit I was reading while it was on, but I watched some of it."

A hot tear of happiness slipped down her cheek when she realized the evidence doesn't lie. "Honey, why didn't you answer the phone when I called?"

"I'll never tell."

"Tell me." She wiped her tear away. "Please." She asked in a sugary tone.

"You really have to know?"

"Yes." She knew it had to be a silly reason, which would only help her laugh more at Lady Heather's ridiculous insinuation. "Come on, it's really important to me!"

"Fine. I was um…reading in the bathroom and I didn't hear the phone over the fan."

Laughing, she said, "You have no idea how comforting that thought is to me!"

"That sounds a little deviant, Sara."

His choice of words couldn't have been more ironic. "Well…I blame the case I'm working on tonight."

"Where are you?"

"In back of a Tahoe."

"You're chatting while you're supposed to be working a case? When the boss finds out…"

"It's my break and trust me…I needed a break."

"Because you're frustrated?"

"I was but I'm not anymore!" Grinning, she said, "I need to get back now. Jim's acting supervisor, and since I'm not sleeping with him, he probably won't be as lenient as you."

"He will be if you give him banana bread."

Lady's Heather's Personal Lair
1:30 a.m.

Lady Heather stood in the corner of the ornate candle-lit room and asked in a sultry voice, "What kind of tea are you craving this evening, Mr. Brass? Something exotic perhaps?" She turned her back to him and readied two teacups and saucers on a brocade covered table.

"Hmm…let me think." He covered the room and came up behind her, placing his hands on the table, one on each side of her. In a harsh whisper, he replied, "How about green to match your mood."

"Excuse me?" Stunned, she turned to face him and found she was still trapped by his arms.

"Don't play coy with me. I've got your number, Lady Heather."

"You do?" She made sure he knew his imposing proximity had no impact on her by remaining nonchalant. "And what exactly do you think I am?"

"Jealous? Envious? Spiteful?" He shrugged. "All of the above."

"You're absurd." She met his accusing eyes without flinching. "But I've always enjoyed your company so please…keep amusing me."

"I'll do my best." Relentlessly, he continued. "I was in the interrogation room with you, remember? I saw the look on your face. Come on…he left you swinging in the breeze. You thought he would at least give you the benefit of the doubt, but he didn't. You were stunned. Now he has her and for some reason you don't like it. Why is that? You said you met Sara before…did he do something for her that he didn't do for you? Like protect her? Is that what has your fishnets in a knot? Come on…let it out. You'll feel better. Confession is good for the soul, or so I've been told."

"You have it all wrong, Mr. Brass." She chuckled whimsically. "I was the one who walked away from him after he exercised bad judgment. He apologized. I didn't accept."

"You waited for him to come groveling like one of you needy little boys. He didn't."

Her voice was firm. "His loss. Not mine."

"Really? Then why are you acting the way you are three years later?" He smiled and changed his voice to a whisper. "You thought you were doing him a favor that night and you were, but you didn't expect to get so much in return, did you? What…did he make you feel special? Like you were the only act in town? Here's a news flash, honey…you were the only act in town."

"No one makes me feel anything." Shifting her weight she leaned forward, flaunting her figure. "I think you're the one who is jealous. I think you could be making your point standing further away but here you are on top of me. Why is that? You're his boss now so you want what he had?"

"Look in my eyes and tell me if you see even a hint of desperation." Wildly, he grinned. "Anything about my body language tell you I'm pent up? I don't think so. Whatever you have to offer I've already had. No. I'm not jealous. I just find it tiring to watch you pace a room and preen, so I'm exercising a little control over the situation. Personally, I think you're enjoying it."

"So you do savor a little power now and then?"

"I also like banana bread every once in a while so what does that tell you?" Enjoying the banter and her failure to accept the obvious, he forged on with the interrogation. "Why is it bothering you so much? Huh? Was he sweet and sensitive? Did he quote a little poetry? Did he make you forget who you are and what you do?" Smiling he said, "Who were you kidding? A guy like him is like a stay in the country to a woman like you…quaint…but you know what they say, quaint gets old. He would have been yesterday's news in no time and he wouldn't have taken the news well. I warned him. I told him to buy a sports car instead, but did he listen?"

Trying to read his skilled eyes, she asked, "What makes you so sure I would have dismissed him?"

"Are you kidding?" Shaking with laughter, Brass shared his rationale. "He's away at a bug convention. On the way over here tonight, Sara sat in the truck excitedly relaying the details of his cockroach race victory. Do you really envision yourself playing that role in his life? With enough alcohol or enough desperation even the most unlikely pairings seem plausible for one night. Sanctuary with him felt good to you, but for years? For happily ever after? Come on…not for you. Predictability would drown you. A woman like you wants to be handled and he never could have handled you."

"What is your point, Mr. Brass?" Reaching out she placed her hands on his jacket lapels. "You do have one don't you, or did you just feel like spending time with me and this little speech is your excuse?"

His tone chilled. "My point? Leave Sara alone. She's a good person. She's what he needs, he's what she needs. Besides, she's never done anything to hurt you, so you're making a fool out of yourself belittling her. Green isn't a good color on you. Black is getting a little old too. Maybe you should try something else."

"Well now…what is it about her that makes men so protective of Ms. Sidle?" She narrowed her gaze.

"Some people deserve it."

"And you think I'm not one of them."

Playing her like a fiddle, he softened. "Well…it's hard to know because you're not really a person most of the time, you're an illusion. Isn't that right? Maybe you've been doing this gig so long you don't even know who you are or what you're doing." Suddenly he laughed. "Look at Greg nipping at your heels. Does it really make you feel good having needy little boys drop at your feet? I could dangle a steak and get a dog to jump, but would I have accomplished anything? Give me a break, Baby. You think you're a temptress, but you're only tempting sure things. You say you're a dominatrix, but you're only dominating what you can easily control. The one thing you couldn't control you're still pissed about years later. So what does that really say about you? Huh? What does that say about your power?"

"You seem to know everything tonight." She inched close enough to feel his breath on her lips. "You tell me."

He answered her question with his eyes on her mouth. "Maybe one day if you say the magic word." After pausing just long enough, he stepped back smiling. "But not tonight."

His retreat infuriated her. "Don't think you're coming back here."

"I don't intend to come back but should you need to find me..." Reaching into his pocket he produced a business card. "You've got my number. You know, in case you want to share any information on tonight's case or any other pertinent matters. Good night, Lady Heather."

Folding her arms across her chest she curtly replied, "No. It's goodbye, Mr. Brass."

He winked. "I seriously doubt that."

Next Episode: I've Got Your Number – Part 3

Teaser: Sara has that awkward…I wish you didn't hear what I said or know what you know' feeling to overcome with Brass and Greg. Brass thinks of way to help. Plus the number games continue…