Illusions
Author: Jess
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and recommended Illusions. You really know how to keep a girl motivated. As always, thanks to Rouch for all her help in making this story coherent and CSI4nsicAce for making sure my grammar is correct.
Disclaimer: I still do not own CSI.
Chapter Eleven
Jim Brass was a patient man. Okay, so that was a big, fat lie. He wasn't a patient man. His ex-wife and daughter could attest to that, but he supposed that he was relatively patient. He looked down at his watch again and rechecked the time against his cell phone clock. 'No,' he thought. 'I have the right time. Hell has simply frozen over. That is the only way to explain Grissom being ten minutes late.'
Being late in regards to paperwork, memos, and letters was one thing, but Gil Grissom was never late to anything related to a case. Brass surveyed the Henderson Veterinarian Clinic parking lot once more and finally spotted Grissom's Denali pulling in. He opened his door and walked over to the SUV, his witty retort dying on his lips as he took in his colleagues' appearances. Something was off between the two of them. Brass wasn't exactly sure what it was, but something was up. They both wore sunglasses, and he had a feeling it wasn't to simply cover their eyes from the harsh Vegas sun. Unfortunately, Grissom had an excellent poker face and from his talk with Nick earlier, apparently so did Sara.
Brass nodded at the two of them as they approached him. "So, I hear you're the girl to go to for some extra cash," Brass joked as he looked at Sara.
"Oh, crap!" Sara mumbled and fumbled in her purse before producing her cell phone. "Sorry, I need to give Greg his wake up call."
"You realize that you're probably playing into one of his fantasies by doing so," Brass pointed out.
Sara stuck her tongue out at him before flipping the phone open. "What can you tell us, Jim?" Grissom asked, forcing Brass' attention away from Sara.
"Mr. Doyle—" Brass began.
"Dr. Doyle," Grissom stated. Brass raised an eyebrow. "If he's a veterinarian then he would be referred to as Dr. Doyle."
"Okay, Dr. Doyle is one of the director's of the local SPCA chapter. His clinic houses a lot of the city's strays that are up for adoption," Brass said. "I informed him that we had some questions and would need access to his member's list and any and all records from the last six chapter meetings."
"And he was okay with that?" Sara asked joining the conversation.
"I informed him that we had a warrant," Brass said and showed the paper.
"It's amazing how that piece of paper allows us access to so many different things," Sara said as they walked to the clinic.
"Well, this one only allows us access to the member's list, chapter meeting records, and any electronic recordings of the meetings, well, if they made any," Brass informed her.
"Um, one second," Sara said, reached into her purse, and pulled out a small notepad. She flipped through it and her eyes widened. "This is Kimberly Witt's veterinarian. Her credit card statements showed several charges for checkups for her cat."
"You can actually read that?" Brass asked as he looked at the chicken scratch on the pad.
Sara shrugged. "Well, we'll need to see what Dr. Doyle can tell us about Ms. Witt," Brass said. "Tyler Cuneo, Kimberly Witt's fiancé, is coming into the station later today. Her parents are catching a flight and will be in later this evening also."
The three of them entered the clinic and stopped at the reception desk. "Jim Brass, Las Vegas Police Department," Brass told the lady behind the counter as he flashed his badge. "And this is Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle from the crime lab."
"How can I help you?" she asked with bewilderment.
"They have an appointment with me, Marie."
The three turned to see a man in his late forties standing in the doorway. "Dr. William Doyle," he said and reached out a hand to Brass. "I gather you are the man I spoke to on the phone."
Brass nodded and shook his hand. "I am," Brass replied. He turned to Grissom and Sara. "This is—"
"Gil Grissom," Dr. Doyle interrupted. "Your paper on the encasement of bodies and the effect it has on the blowfly timeline was riveting."
Brass raised a questioning eyebrow. "The pig study I did on the Kay Shelton case," Grissom informed him. "Sara Sidle was pivotal in that experiment," Grissom added in introduction.
Dr. Doyle turned to Sara and smiled at her. "It is always promising to see women in scientific fields," he said and shook Sara's hand.
"Please, follow me to my office," Dr. Doyle said, releasing Sara's hand.
Brass watched Sara wipe her hand on her pants, her lips twisting in thought as she followed the doctor. They entered the doctor's office and Brass tried hard to hide his amusement. In many ways, it was similar to Grissom's office. Various insects were displayed in jars along a bookshelf. Diplomas and certificates of achievement hung on the wall alongside framed butterflies and spiders. And resting on a low table next to the desk was an aquarium housing a tarantula.
Grissom knelt down by the aquarium and peered inside. "An Acanthoscurria geniculata," he said and took his seat.
Dr. Doyle took his seat on the other side of the desk and smiled. "Yes, he's seven years old," he told Grissom and then looked at Brass and Sara. "Would you like to see him? Feel free to look."
"No," Brass stated and eyed Sara as she chuckled.
"I'm not quite sure how I can help you," Dr. Doyle said and picked up two folders from his desk. "These contain copies of our member list, the meetings' minutes, and the sign in sheets."
"Thank you," Brass said, took the folders, and handed them to Sara who promptly placed them in an evidence bag. "Dr. Doyle, do you know a woman by the name of Kimberly Witt?"
"Yes," Dr. Doyle said. "Her Bombay Asian black shorthair, Sutekh, is a patient of mine. He is currently in the clinic's overnight facility."
"Sutekh, as in the Egyptian god of chaos?" Sara asked, slightly intrigued by the unique name.
"Yes. Sutekh is quite a handful. He lives up to the name," Dr. Doyle said and offered her a smile. "Kimberly is also a highly valued member of the SPCA."
"How so?" Grissom asked.
"Kimberly is intelligent and vivacious. She has a way of making those around her stand up and listen," Dr. Doyle said. "She is one of our key speakers to help motivate our group members and others in the community at our different charitable events. She would use her knowledge of different animals and their habitats to reel in people and make them want to help." He turned his attention to Sara. "She has a deep passion for animal rights."
"Angie Moore is also a member of the SPCA. Can you tell us anything about her?" Grissom asked, obtaining the doctor's attention.
"Pardon my abruptness, but why all the questions?" Dr. Doyle asked.
"Both women were murdered," Brass answered bluntly. "The only correlation between them is their membership with the SPCA."
"Surely you are not thinking that someone in the SPCA murdered them," Dr. Doyle said.
None of them answered. "I don't know what to tell you," Dr. Doyle said. "Angie was a bright woman. She was eager to help out with any event. She was a hard worker and extremely intelligent."
The conversation ceased and Brass mulled the information around in his mind. He looked at his watch and noticed that he was cutting it close if he wanted to be on time for Mr. Cuneo's interview. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Doyle," Brass said and stood. "I'll contact you if we have any questions."
The others stood. "Anything to help. Kimberly and Angie will be sorely missed," Dr. Doyle said and shook Brass's hand. "It was an honor to meet you, Dr. Grissom," he continued.
Grissom nodded and shook the doctor's hand. "It was a pleasure, Ms. Sidle," Dr. Doyle said and extended his hand.
Sara offered her hand and shook his. Dr. Doyle's thumb made a quick caress across the back of her hand. Brass blinked unsure if he had seen what had happened or if he had imagined it. The startled look on Sara's face told him that the incident was not imagined. Brass looked at Grissom and was surprised to see the intensity in his eyes.
Dr. Doyle released his grip and smiled. "Would it be too much trouble to ask for some help to my car with some boxes?" the doctor asked and motioned to a small pile behind the tarantula terrarium.
Brass shook his head. "Where to?" he asked and hoisted one of the boxes.
Dr. Doyle picked up one of the boxes and proceeded towards the door. "The parking lot," he said and walked through the door.
Brass made sure Grissom and Sara were coming and followed the doctor. They made their way to a blue Honda Civic LX. A warning bell went off in Brass's head. Brass passed a look at Grissom and Sara and by the looks they replied with knew they were thinking the same thing. This was the model that left behind tire tracks at the Witt crime scene.
The doctor unlocked the car and they began placing the boxes in the trunk. Brass watched Sara walk around the side of the car and casually peer inside of it. "Dr. Doyle,those are interesting seat coverings. I've been looking for something unique for my own car. What is it?" Sara asked, smiling serenely at the man.
"You have exquisite taste, Ms. Sidle," Dr. Doyle answered and returned the smile. "It's extremely rare, made from a Vicuna."
She reached into her purse and pulled out her notebook. "Would you mind writing down where you purchased it from?" she asked and held out the notebook. "I would love to acquire my own."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Sidle," Dr. Doyle said. "I have a friend in South America who made them especially for me."
Sara frowned and placed the notebook back in her purse. "However," Dr. Doyle continued. "If you'd give me your number, I could see what I can arrange."
Sara's smile returned and she fiddled with her purse for a few seconds before producing a card with her CSI contact information on it. "Here you are," she said and gave him the card.
Brass stole a look at Grissom and noted that the man's hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, as he took in the scene. "I'll let you know," Dr. Doyle said and studied the card.
"I'll be waiting," Sara answered.
"You spell your name without an h," Dr. Doyle said, his fingers moving over her name on the card. "Sara was the wife of Abraham. She was celebrated for her beauty as well as her audacity."
"Are you trying to imply that I'm spirited?" Sara asked raising an eyebrow.
"No," Dr. Doyle said and pocketed the card. "I was trying to imply that I think you are beautiful."
Sara and Brass were rooted to their spots, speechless. Grissom was the only one to move. His right hand clasped Sara's arm. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Doyle," Grissom said gruffly. "We really do have to be going."
Brass's mouth tightened to prevent him from laughing outright at Grissom. He watched his friend begin 'guide' Sara to the Denali in the parking lot. Brass nodded to the doctor and made his way to the two CSIs. He watched Grissom place his sunglasses back on before turning in his direction.
"He owns the same model vehicle that made tracks we found at Kimberly Witt's crime scene," Sara stated. "And he has Vicuna seat covers. What I wouldn't give to run an ALS through that car."
"I'll work on getting a warrant," Brass replied. "He seemed taken with you," he directed at Sara.
Grissom snorted and Sara directed a look in his direction. "I'm going to the station to interview Kimberly Witt's fiancé," Brass informed them.
"I'll meet you there after I drop Sara off at the lab," Grissom stated, unlocked the Denali, and sat in the driver's seat.
Sara nodded goodbye, before taking her seat. 'If looks could kill,' Brass smiled wickedly.
'Oh to be a fly in that car…' Brass thought as he drove away.
Sara Sidle's eyes narrowed in anger as she looked straight out the windshield. 'Killing Grissom is a bad idea,' she thought and reminded herself all the reasons why she shouldn't kill Grissom. She clenched her fists and her jaw tightened in annoyance and frustration. 'Screw it, I'm killing him,' she decided and cast a look in his direction.
He had his sunglasses back on, making any attempt to read his eyes futile. Sara took in his other features. His jaw was set in a grimace, his nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his hands clutched the steering wheel so tightly that they were white. But right now, she could care less.
"What the hell was that?" Sara demanded. "I'll drop Sara off at the lab. Why the hell am I going to the lab?"
Grissom didn't answer, but his grip on the wheel tightened as did his jaw. Sara waited patiently for an answer, and when none was forthcoming, she opened her mouth, preparing for another retort; however, at that moment, Grissom decided to quickly merge lanes, pull into the nearest parking lot, turn the car off, unbuckle his seat belt, and slam the door as he exited the car. She sat stunned in the car by this uncharacteristic burst of emotion before unbuckling her seat belt and exiting the car. She walked over to him as he paced back and forth along the sidewalk. Sara leaned against the Denali and waited for him to calm down and talk to her. After a few minutes, Grissom stopped his pacing and looked at her. His jaw was still tightened but not to the severity as before.
"Dr. Doyle is a suspect," Grissom stated.
'Well, duh,' Sara thought but simply gave him a look to continue. "If he is the perpetrator then you know what he is capable of," Grissom said his mouth tightening again.
Sara looked at him in bewilderment. 'Where is he going with this?' she wondered. Then it hit her. "Yes, Grissom, I know he is a suspect and I do know what he is capable of," Sara said and rolled her eyes. "I gave him my card, any information we receive from him could be probative in the investigation."
Her eyes narrowed as she continued, "You wouldn't have a problem with this if it was Sofia or Catherine."
"Sofia and Catherine do not meet the victim profile," Grissom stated. "Or did you forget that part? Tall, brunette, extremely intelligent. Does that remind you of anyone? And Brass was right; he did seem rather taken with you."
Sara shut her eyes and massaged her temples. "Do you think that little of me, to honestly think I would willingly place myself in a situation where I could be harmed?" Sara asked, opened her eyes, and glared at him.
"The 'strip strangler' case," Grissom replied.
Sara's eyes widened. "Jesus, Griss, that was five years ago!" she exclaimed. "I was young and stupid. I had no idea what I was getting myself into."
Sara closed her eyes and silently counted to ten as she got her breathing under control. She looked back up at Grissom and readied herself to speak. He placed a hand out motioning for her to stop whatever she was going to say.
"There is no passion so much transports the sincerity of judgment as doth anger," Grissom said, more to himself than to her.
Sara waited patiently for him to expand. "Truce?" he asked.
She caught herself from making any unwarranted comments. 'It's probably best to call a truce,' she thought. She really didn't have the energy to continue this conversation.
Grissom tossed her the keys. "You drive," he stated and entered the car on the passenger's side.
Sara looked at the keys in her hand and knew that they were his way of apologizing. She smiled as she opened the door and took her seat. She adjusted the rearview mirror and the evidence bag with the SPCA folders came into view.
"You do the interview," Sara said as she exited the parking lot. "I want to get the folders Dr. Doyle gave us to the print lab. If I can obtain his prints from them, and they're a match to the ones on a lily, that information may help Brass get a warrant."
Grissom nodded, and she began tapping her fingers to the tempo of Vivaldi.
"You're still young," Grissom said, interrupting the silence.
"Huh?" Sara asked, confused as to where he was going.
"You said back when you were young and stupid," Grissom answered. "You're still young, Sara."
"Then why do I feel so old?" Sara asked as they pulled into the LVPD parking lot.
Grissom didn't answer, and she wasn't sure how that made her feel.
