"The Blood Orchids practically run Tokyo. Their influence is everywhere. Any decent nightclub in town has an Orchid plant inside. They know where everyone important is, all the time," Chisato said this in a hush, her eyes wide and frightened. After Grissom had called Sara and Warrick to process the scene thoroughly, he and Chisato returned to the lab, and, with Brass included, she began to speak all she knew of the Blood Orchids.
"Did you know them?" Brass asked, his blazer off. He leaned forward, his hands resting on the back of a cold metal chair.
Chisato nodded. "I did, some of them."
"Did you know our victim, Mr. Mitsuda?" Grissom inquired, fascinated. He had been a CSI for decades, but never had trusted, living evidence right in front of him, ready to be indexed and sought after for information. He blinked, and his thrill waned watching Chisato squirm uncomfortably in her own skin. The Blood Orchids were obviously something she did not like to speak of.
"Gil, the Blood Orchids are a massive underground organization, not a dinner club. I knew a select few," she sighed, "Miss Tendo said that Mr. Mitsuda was high on the company ladder – if he wasn't the boss, the boss must be out looking for a new co-chair. I've never personally seen any of them." She tented her index fingers and pressed them to her lips, staring at the table.
"I've got to speak with the hotel manager and get those lock times you requested, Gil," Brass said, slipping an arm into his suit jacket. "Keep at it, you two." He opened the door and left.
Grissom stared at Chisato, who looked nervous. She wrung her hands together, anticipating the question from no one else but the CSI supervisor. "Chisato?" He said calmly, "What did Miss Tendo show you?"
Chisato smiled ruefully. "The insignia of the Blood Orchids – a tattoo, on her hip."
"How did you know about…" Grissom trailed off, looking at a loss for words. Chisato sighed again, and stood up. She crossed the room, until she was standing in front of Grissom. Any closer and she'd have been on his lap. She bit her lip and looked away, pulling her shirt dress up to the waist of her jeans, and then, with the other hand, her jeans down an inch and a half. Grissom squinted at the design. A white orchid, beautifully done, with a red drop of blood about to fall from the lowest petal. There were Japanese characters next to the flower, but Grissom did not understand them.
"Meet me, ten years ago," she said, her voice bittersweet. He stared at her, open-mouthed. She dropped her dress down and sat, feeling violated, at the other side of the table. "Don't look at me like that, please."
"I'd apologize, but I mean… how did this happen? How did you even slip through the – the cracks?" Grissom stuttered this out. He was massaging his forehead in disbelief.
"I'm not a crook," she said haughtily, glaring at Grissom, "I never have been. The Orchid bigwigs' sons and nephews would have me out for parties and things like that. They didn't pay for me to be there, I just went."
Grissom exhaled deeply. He squeezed his eyes shut. I knew there had to be something wrong about her, he thought, feeling a headache approaching, figures it be an affiliation with a massive Japanese mob ring. He shook his head. "So why the tattoo, then?"
"All the girls were getting them," she said, embarrassed. "It was a stupid thing to do, but I was just a kid. At the time, I wanted to be in with them. When my mother died, I realized it was time to start over, and I severed any ties I had with them. I figured telling anyone would only spoil my chances of success. I can't see any harm done."
Grissom slammed his hand on the table. "No harm done?" He shouted, and Chisato jumped. "If word gets out that a member of the department has mob ties, no matter how thin or 'severed' (he emphasized the use of Chisato's word maliciously) we'll have the media crawling all over the place!"
"Is ten years really an issue, Doctor? (Grissom noted she'd curtly reverted to her professional tone.) I mean, really. Wasn't Catherine a stripper not too long ago? Oh right. And Nick's murder charge on that prostitute… wasn't that just… one year ago? I don't recall ever being accused of murdering anybody. For Christ's sake, I've never even been said to be 'affiliated' with the Orchids before, even ten years ago, when that seemed remotely plausible!" Grissom sat silent, beating himself up for overreacting. Chisato was fierce. "The only thing I have is this tattoo, and by now, thousands of Japanese have a copy. The design was so popular, people got it just to pretend they rolled with Orchids."
"So how do you know Miss Tendo didn't-"
"-get an Orchid tattoo for the hell of it? She wouldn't be in Vegas if she did, that's for sure. She's his entertainer, you know, pour the sake, sing some karaoke, and maybe give him a thrill-" Grissom raised his eyebrows "-nothing more."
"And was that your job, Doctor?" He said, pissed that he had nothing more to argue with her about. "Giving 'thrills' to gangster offspring?" The words struck her like a slap across the face.
"That is none of your business," she said, scowling, "When you want to be the professional everyone says you are, I'll be in the lab." She swung the door open and stormed out of the room. Grissom watched the door close slowly, his head resting on his fist. He didn't want to admit it, but he'd made a big mistake.
The jarring ring of his cellphone shook Grissom out of his thoughts. He answered it the usual way – "Grissom."
"Hey Griss, it's Warrick," the CSI sounded cool, even over the line, "A car accident occurred in the Tangiers loop right around the time of the murder. I bet you'll never guess the cause."
"Don't play games with me, Warrick."
Grissom heard Warrick huff. "A flying donut hit the windshield and the driver smashed into the car in front."
"Look for any connections to the case. I'll see you at the lab."
"Gotcha, Grissom, we're just packing up."
"Okay. Bye."
While Grissom hung up his call with Warrick, Chisato was rummaging through her locker, looking for a new package of Kleenex. The small trashcan she kept at the bottom of her locker was teeming with tissue rosettes, and she slammed the door shut in frustration.
"Hey," Sara said upon entering, trying to take the highroad and relate to Chisato.
"Hey Sara," she replied quietly, smiling feebly. Before Sara could say anything else, Chisato remarked, "Does Grissom ever just… piss you off?"
"Constantly," Sara grinned, "It's what makes him so… charming."
"Charming," Chisato growled, "He treats people like test subjects and expects them to be okay with it. Shameful, more like."
Sara was taken aback, but refused to stoop down. She squared her shoulders and moved her arms up and down, saying in a staccato voice, "human emotion. Does not compute."
Chisato burst out laughing. After her peals had subsided, Sara said, "I know he's tough to get used to. But whatever he said, he didn't mean the way he said it, I'm sure. He's probably threatened by how smart you are." Chisato smiled, shamefaced. "In time, you'll learn to like him. Believe me." And, in an inaudible voice, Sara added, "I know I do."
"Thanks, Sara," Chisato said genuinely. The two of them sat on the narrow bench dividing the women's and men's lockers, Sara cross-legged and Chisato hugging her knees. "Did you and Warrick find anything interesting at the scene?"
"What didn't we find?" Sara mused, "Semen stains, cigar butts, all kinds of fast food garbage, and – get this – a donut hit a windshield right around the time of the murder."
"A donut?" Chisato repeated, befuddled. "Honey-glazed or cream filling?"
"We'll soon find out," Sara grinned, and they headed towards the lab, where the evidence she and Warrick had found was being tagged and re-photographed.
Sara left to speak with Grissom, and Chisato and Warrick sifted through the objects, offering suggestions about what each could have been used for.
"The sugar on this donut seems different," Warrick said, frowning, "Melted, almost."
"So it was heated for… optimal flight?" They both snickered.
"So how do you like us so far?" Warrick asked, setting the bagged donut down and looking quizzically at Chisato.
She glanced out the window, to where Grissom and Sara were talking.
"I like you just fine," she replied, flashing her teeth.