Chisato answered her phone mid-ring. "Hello?" There was a pause on the line.
"It's me, Grissom," she heard, her eyes widening in surprise. "Could you buzz me in?"
"Sure," she said, stunned. She pressed the "OK" button on her handset and stood up from her sofa, stretching out. Heeding Warrick's advice, Chisato left for home a little after the sixteen-hour mark on her timecard. However, even after pulling a double shift that followed her lengthy visit to Greg's apartment, she could not sleep. She had paced her downtown condo for hours, going over the case repeatedly. Thinking how close she'd been to that kind of life…
There was a knock at the door. Grissom. Chisato had no idea why he was coming to her place, let alone speaking to her. Oh fuck, she thought, I must be fired. She clenched her fists and took a deep breath, resolute.
She unlocked the door and opened it. Grissom was looking down the hall, a bouquet of flowers in hand.
"Doctor Grissom?" She said, startling him. He stared at her, in her ballet tights and oversized sweater (more like a dress).
"Can the formalities," he said kindly, smoothing his hair back. "Just Gil, or Grissom, please."
She bit her lip and shrugged. "Sure." They stood in silence, Grissom clutching the flowers to his chest like a life preserver. "You can come in, if you like." She pushed the door against the wall and gestured for him to enter.
He wandered in slowly, and upon noting the neat line of shoes by the door (including Chisato's beloved denim Chucks), Grissom kicked his off and surveyed the condo.
Grissom noted the trendiness of it straightaway. The entire living area was open-concept – a fully-stocked kitchen, little dining table, two armless modern black leather sofas, face-to-face, with a square coffee table inbetween. The room was L-shaped, and Grissom could see a piano bench peeking around the corner. There was a Shoji-style door to the right, beautifully backlit, but what entranced him most were the windows. They spanned the entire back wall, and (he assumed, judging by how light the room was) around the corner. He could see so much of Vegas, the setting sun in the distance, the lights of the city popping on one by one.
He noticed Chisato, peering at him quizzically, pulling at the bottom of her sweater. "Nice place," he said finally, when a big, reverbrating mass hit his shins.
Chisato exclaimed something in Italian and rushed forward, grabbing the giant black cat purring against Grissom's leg.
"This is Montesquieu," she huffed, hoisting the cat up so that its front paws rested on her shoulder. "He's very – ugh – affectionate." The cat had thick black fur with tuxedo markings, and narrowed its green eyes lazily at Grissom, as Chisato burrowed her fingers behind his pointy ears.
"The French political scientist, Montesquieu?" Grissom asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The very same," she smiled despite herself, but then shook her head, setting Montesquieu down and giving him a gentle kick, so that he dashed up a side staircase Grissom hadn't noticed. "What are you doing here, Grissom?"
He paused, unsure of what to say. "I'm – I'm sorry about how unprofessional I was today," he said, thrusting the flowers into her arms. "These are for you."
She tried not to smirk. "Thank you, Gil, they're lovely. I'm going to get a vase." She went for a cupboard under the sink, and as an afterthought, motioned for Grissom to sit down. As she bustled about, Grissom felt it was best to explain himself when she wasn't looking straight at him.
"I realize how poorly I treated you today, and it was completely uncalled for. I had just… built up in my mind this – this idea that you were this 'ideal CSI' or something equally ridiculous. It never crossed my mind that you'd had a past that was…"
"Normal?" She piped, grinning. She filled a black ceramic vase with water and began trimming the stems of the flowers with a pair of shears.
Grissom returned the grin. "I guess so," he admitted, and then sighed. "I realize that you probably are wary of talking to me at present, but I'd like to take you to dinner. I need to ask you more questions about the Blood Orchids." Chisato gaped at him, her mouth open. A smile spread across her cheeks.
"I never pass up free food," she winked. "I'll be five minutes."
After she had changed, Chisato and Grissom took Grissom's giant Ford to a little Thai restaurant in a more suburban area of Las Vegas. After being seated, Grissom leaned forward excitedly and whispered, "What would a member of the Orchid elite (by this time, Grissom has made many assumptions about mobster lingo and applied it ruthlessly, to the dismay of the other CSI's) be doing in Vegas?"
Chisato snorted. "Gamble?" She raised her eyebrow. "I don't know, get laid, drink up a storm, play blackjack, see Celine Dion. Anything."
"So, you're saying he wasn't here for… business?" Grissom asked, disappointment seeping into his voice.
"I don't think so, I could ask Miss Tendo for you, but I think this was just a personal vacation. There's no business for Yakuza in Vegas."
"I interviewed the prostitute, Gina Simmonds. She didn't know anything about the donut and said he was alive and well when she left. Moreover, we have video footage of her leaving the suite at least an hour before the murder," Grissom sighed. "We've got nowhere to go but Miss Tendo."
Chisato blew a stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of her nose. A waiter handed them their menus and Chisato squinted at the fine print. She shook her head.
"I forgot my contacts." She burrowed through her purse and procured a pair of rimless spectacles. Chisato ceremoniously breathed on each lens and rubbed them with a cloth. "Much better." She grinned at Grissom, and then suddenly jumped up. "We have to talk to Miss Tendo again… but first, I need to see the evidence."
"Wha – why?" Grissom asked, distraught. "We haven't even eaten."
"I'll explain on the way."
Chisato and Grissom arrived at the lab, where Chisato practically skidded down the hallways in her high heels until she reached the evidence room. She rifled through a box marked "Mitsuda, Yoshitoki", pulling out a Krispy Kreme wrapper with a flourish. Grissom watched intently from the door.
After slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Chisato broke the seal of the evidence bag and carefully took the wrapper out. She sprayed diazaflouren all over the wrapper, and then looked excitedly at Grissom.
"The fast food trash we found in the suite was irrelevant before," she explained, her grey eyes shining, "Because we hadn't tied the donut to the crime scene. But whoever opened this wrapper might have been in – ahem – an extremely close proximity to our victim. I figure that our vic might not know the difference between a donut and a vagina without his glasses."
Grissom narrowed his eyes. "Wouldn't know the difference?"
"Sometimes, it just gets so hot, you don't care what you're…" Chisato blushed, "Well, you know."
Grissom entered the room and peered at the donut wrapper. "There you go, kiddo. Your print is ready."
"It's a match to Miss Tendo," Jackie said excitedly, minutes later. "You got her." Chisato shivered, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth. Brass entered the room.
"Your suspect is waiting, Miss Dominico," he said, waving Chisato out the door.