Chapter 2 – Worst Laid Plans.
Disclaimer – This is very bad for my ego, but no, I don't own CSI or any other TV show.
Notes – Spoilers for 'Mea Culpa'. This chapter is shorter than the last one, 'cause I'm still thinking up ideas. I have a basic plotline, but the specifics are still coming to me. Anyway, here goes.
Catherine was not in the throes of a screaming hangover, but that didn't mean she didn't feel a dull thudding in her head. Boy, had she lost it last night. Still, she'd had good reason, a reason that not even the ache in her brain could dampen. Ecklie was gone, Lindsey's test scores and grades were back up, and Rory Atwater had confirmed that her promotion to Day shift supervisor would be effective within three weeks.
All in all, not a bad night. And she had woken up with...
No. Not going there. Didn't happen. Is not, was not, will not be. Negative in every sense. She was happy, and no memory of this morning was going to irritate her. Even if it did mean her forgetting about waking up with...
No! NO! End of discussion! End of story!
She turned her mind to the main topic of the crime lab: Ecklie's refusal to co-operate. Grissom had said 'Let's do it the hard way' and Cath was only too willing to oblige. She had spent enough years on the job to know that the first step was to get a warrant for Ecklie's home.
That was where she, Nick and Warrick were now, trying to find any evidence of the mystery man's presence in Ecklie's house. It wasn't much, but it was a start, and Catherine Willows was of the opinion that once you started anything, it could be finished, if only you were good enough to finish it.
Grissom, meanwhile, was with Brass and their new Assistant District Attorney, trying one last time to convince Ecklie that it was in his best interests to talk. Not a task she envied them. She would take evidence over accounts any day, particularly from Ecklie. Sophia Curtis was in the evidence lab, trying to make sense of the specific cases Ecklie had tampered with. Finally, Sara and Greg were working the only other case of the night, a robbery-turned-homicide over on Fremont Street.
Catherine was currently dusting for prints, while Nick checked the floor and walls for any visible trace. With Vega clearing the garage, that left Warrick to examine the master bedroom. Catherine didn't really want to wonder what was lurking there.
"Hey, guys!" That was Vega. "You might want to see this..."
Cath and Nick downed tools and headed for the garage. Vega directed their eyes to the fridge, inside which was a fat stack of cash, easily four hundred grand, and a single word on the bag that contained it.
'Garbett.'
Cath's eyes narrowed at the sight of so much money. " 'It must be nice to be independently wealthy'...you hypocrite son of a bitch..."
Nick glanced over at her. "Say again, Cath?"
"Oh, nothing. Just something Ecklie said to me right before the shift split. Doesn't matter. I'm, err, guessing that this was what Ecklie was paid to kick a case or two, or get them kicked in court."
"How the hell did he keep all this from his wife? I mean, hiding money in the damn fridge?"
"Who says he hid it from her?" piped up Vega. "Maybe she knew about it, and just kept her mouth shut."
"Possible" concurred Catherine. "Okay, I guess I'll check how Warrick's doing. Meanwhile, Nick, get a very large evidence bag and don't take any of the cash for yourself."
With that, she turned on her heel and left.
"Your faith in me remains a constant inspiration..." murmured Nick. He set to work.
Warrick came down the stairs looking slightly puzzled. Cath met him at the bottom.
"How'd you do upstairs?"
"I don't know what the hell I was expecting to find, but I was thinking at least part of it would be stuff that belonged to his wife. I mean, what kind of stuff do you have in your bathroom, your bedroom?"
Cath grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know? All right, mostly stuff like moisturiser, hair spray, lipstick, lots of dresses...what you'd find in any woman's bedroom."
"Not here. There's just deodorant and hair gel. No evidence of Ecklie's wife ever having lived here. Maybe she up and left him."
Cath frowned. "Or maybe he made her go away..."
"You're not thinking...?" Warrick saw that she was. "Okay, Ecklie's an asshole and he's corrupt, but I just don't see him killing his own wife."
Catherine was unmoved. "A few days ago I didn't see him taking bribes or trying to slash Greg's throat. Now the rule is Assume Nothing."
"Still, maybe she just found out about Ecklie getting busted and went for a divorce."
Cath could see that Warrick was hoping Ecklie's wife was still alive, and she couldn't blame him. But they had a job to do. "He got arrested yesterday. She must have done the fastest pack-up-and-go in the long sad history of divorces. And she probably would have taken all of his stuff too."
"Yeah, and the only stuff I found missing was hers...So we might have a dead body on our hands as well?"
"I hope not. Let's find out what we do have before we find out what we might have."
Cath went back to the lounge, where she was still lifting prints. Suddenly she felt tired, and her head was pounding afresh. She cursed mentally. Apparently her hangover wasn't done with her just yet.
Or maybe the idea that they had been working alongside a potential killer was what was giving her grief...
Meanwhile, down in interrogation. Brass was losing his patience. Ecklie had been giving them the run-around for almost forty-five minutes now, ignoring even the most basic and elementary explanations that talking to him and Grissom would take some of the heat off his back. He had shrugged his way through threats, taunted his way through reasonable, good-cop cajoling, and simply poked fun at an increasingly irate Grissom at every opportunity.
"I'm losing my cool here, Ecklie. Who is the old guy in the photo?" Brass growled.
"We know he bribed you to kick some of the cases we took to court." Grissom was trying to keep a calm tone of voice, and marginally succeeding. "Maybe he threatened you as well? There's nothing we can do about the assault charge, you brought that on yourself, but if you give us his name, then maybe we can get some of the obstruction of justice charges kicked. Maybe we can get you, say, ten years, perhaps seven, instead of twenty."
"How's Sara doing these days, Gil? Or, did you take my advice, and start doing Sophia?"
Grissom clenched his fists. His normally inexhaustible temper was running out. "Look, Ecklie, if you don't tell us anything, you take the whole weight on your shoulders..."
"Still, the idea of you being able to handle Sophia is kind of laughable, and Sara's probably got a little too much going on up here" Ecklie tapped the side of his head "to really pay any attention to you, so I guess that leaves Catherine, and she only sleeps with people to advance her career..."
Grissom had a dangerous smile on his face. "Oh, boy, haven't I had enough of this..."
The new ADA (a ball-breaker if Brass had ever seen one) laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. She leaned over the table, placing her hands knuckles-down on the metal surface, and spoke in a cool, yet intimidating voice.
"Mr. Ecklie, you know that Dr. Grissom and the other CSI's are going to find out who it is with or without your help, so even if you genuinely are covering for someone other than yourself, it is a perfectly pointless exercise. And you're one of my first cases here," her voice turned introspective "so I'm hoping to use you to open up some good relations, maybe make a name for myself. At first I was planning to go easy and give you seven to eight years in a medium security jail, maybe even an open facility, but you're starting to piss me off, so I think I'll put you in a Federal lockup over in Carson City, maybe...Lorenz Angelo State Prison? With the gang-bangers and heavy duty killers?"
Ecklie's smug expression faded. He looked from Brass to Grissom, avoiding the lawyer's eyes. "If I say a word, he will kill me, protection or no protection."
Brass leaned in, ready to exploit this chink in Ecklie's emotional armour. "Hey, listen, we can look after you, make sure this guy never touches you. If we put you in a safe house, maybe change your name..."
But Ecklie was calm again. "I've made my decision. As your new girlfriend says, you don't need me." Ecklie's smugness was back in full force.
"So go find him."
With a collective sigh, the cop, the scientist, and the prosecutor left the interrogation room. They weren't too disappointed, only tired. They hadn't really expected Ecklie to start talking now if he hadn't before, but interrogations were difficult, emotionally draining affairs.
Brass had been impressed by their new Assistant District Attorney's last effort, though. It was clear that she had done this before, would have been clear even if Brass hadn't known a little bit about her. Apparently, she used to work in New York as a narcotics cop before becoming a lawyer under the Executive Assistant District Attorney there. By all accounts, he was a real asshole...
"Well, I can't say I'm too surprised. I guess we really will have to do it the hard way," said Grissom. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Carmichael."
"The pleasure's all mine, Dr. Grissom, Captain Brass." She shook their hands and turned to leave.
"By the way, the name's Abbie."
Author's Note: I have absolutely NO idea whether or not this last development is appropriate, as I have not seen Season 11 of Law and Order yet. If Carmichael dies instead of merely retiring from New York law enforcement, please let me know, and I'll change Abbie Carmichael into one of her luckier counterparts on the series. Thanks!
P.S. Also, is it okay for me to do this kind of ironic crossover with another series?