Title: Goodbye, Mr. Grissom - Chapter 3
Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. The J. Geils Band released 'Love Stinks' in 1992.
Spoiler(s): Inside the Box and Tomas Nunez is a re-occurring character from the CSI books.
"What is going on?" Sheriff Rory Atwater demanded from the doorway. Jim Brass stood at his shoulder, an air dejection surrounding him. Catherine Willows sat at a lab bench with three separate piles in front of her. She didn't answer.
"Catherine?" Once he had her attention, he continued. "Al Robbins just called me. He wants Grissom's medical records."
"Did he tell you why?"
"He seems to think, that's not Grissom, in the morgue. Catherine, the fingerprints matched."
"What did Al say, exactly?"
"He said 'Get me Grissom's medical records. Specifically, any chest or abdominal X-rays he may have had.'"
"Good, one on my side. I see, you still need some convincing."
"That would be nice. The Press is already all over this. I have a news conference scheduled in two hours. I'd like to know whether or not to tell them Gil Grissom has been murdered."
"Okay, Gil had two scars which aren't on that body. I KNOW, because I was there when he got both of them. As far as this stuff is concerned – that's his wallet and cell phone. These are NOT his keys and this is NOT his watch." She picked up the evidence bag with the watch in it and tossed it to Atwater. "Surely, you would recognize his watch, right?"
"Well, I don't know that he doesn't have another but this one seems a bit cheap for him."
"Let's move on to the clothes, this IS his leather jacket. I gave it to him for Christmas, four years ago and he had it on last night. Now, this shirt has a hole in the armpit. You know very well, our clothes usually get ruined before we ever wear'em out. These pants, too much polyester AND they're from Sears. Gil thinks Sears is for tools, exclusively. The underwear is definitely not his. The shoes aren't really his style and he wears Gold Toe socks."
"Underwear? Gold Toe socks?"
"Gil wears boxers, we got briefs here." She held them up by the waistband between a gloved forefinger and thumb.
"Look, I've done his laundry on occasion." She added when she noted his eyebrows approach his hairline. "Gil tends to forget things, like……...getting his washer repaired or, even worse, he tries to repair it himself."
"Really?"
"Yes, really! We can always go to his 'Townhouse' and search his underwear drawer. I'll bet you a hundred - no, make that a thousand, there won't be any briefs. Come to think of it, Gil buys clothes in multiples…." She trailed off.
"What's that mean?"
"If he finds something he likes, on the rare occasion that he goes shopping, he'll buy several of the same item in different colors, usually two in black. What I'm saying is that there won't be another shirt like this one in his closet."
"Anything else?"
"His money clip and pager are missing."
"You know a lot about him."
"Amazing, huh? I've only worked with him for nearly twenty years." Her tone was sarcastic then she directed her attention to Brass and held up a glass. "Do you recognize this?"
"Looks like Gil's Scotch tumbler, one of the pair he keeps in his desk."
"It is. The prints from this glass match several that I lifted from his office; but not, the ones in the AFIS database. I have a coffee cup in my dishwasher at home that, I guarantee, will match these. But, the ones from the body in the fucking morgue don't! What else, do I need to do to convince you that is not Gil in there and we really need to start looking for him!"
"Okay, calm down. I'm not gonna say I'm completely convinced but I think there's reasonable doubt. Jim contact the CSI's assigned to this case and inform them of this development."
"Oh, No! You are not taking this from me! I'm the one who recognized that's not Gil and I damn well intend to find him."
"Catherine, you are too personally involved."
"You can either help or hinder me. But, I will be investigating this case, even if, it's as a private citizen." Catherine threatened as she glared at him. Atwater met her angry stare with a stubborn scowl of his own. Her vision blurred with tears of frustration and with a quivering lower lip, she pleaded. "Please? He's my closest friend."
"All right, I shouldn't do this but the case is yours." He relented. "But, I want evidence that will hold up in court. I'll tell the press that release of the identity is pending notification of next of kin. That should hold them for awhile and buy us some time."
"He's my friend too." Brass interjected.
"Fine. You're in, as well." Atwater threw up his hands and with a sigh of defeat asked. "What can I do to help?"
"I want my team and any members of the Graveshift staff I think I need."
"Catherine, you have carte blanche. Just make sure everything is by the book. Jim, help her find him. Get the team together and brief them."
"There's no need for you to call them, I sent a page a few minutes ago." Catherine told Brass, stopping him from retrieving his cell phone. She had gone over the leather jacket with an ALS. There was gun shot residue and prints on it. She knew some of the prints were hers and exactly where they were located. Now, she had to figure out the best way to lift the rest of them.
"Lady, you've got some balls. You're sure about this, right?"
"Absolutely."
"I can't believe you pulled that off."
"The quivering lower lip gets them every time."
"You played him?"
"And, I'll do it again, if I have to." She replied with fierce determination.
"So, where do we start?" Brass scrubbed a hand over his face then tried to massage the tension out of his temples, thumb on one side, middle finger working at the other.
"Al wanted Gil's medical records and actually, I think, he's the best person to have open an official investigation. It would help us keep what we do know quiet."
"Why the need for secrecy?" Catherine was surprised at Brass's obtuseness. He was usually two jumps ahead as soon as a clue was doled out.
"Whoever 'masterminded' this had inside help. Specifically, we need to know who, how and when the AFIS database got tampered with and how the employee card got switched."
"How would they know to switch the card?"
"I don't think that's too hard to figure, especially if there's an insider. The Morgue doesn't have access to AFIS. One of our own, it's either a formality or we want to know right away, so……..….get the card." Sara offered, from the doorway. "I, um, overheard and I got your page. How can I help?"
"The vault, where personnel records are kept is supposed to be secure." Brass lamented.
"Sara, can you print the file cabinet, the card, his file…..…….Jim, can you get us access?"
"Yeah." Both replied.
"There has to be a signature on the card which they had to've forged." Sara added.
"Good, that's another lead to follow. I've called Tomas Nunez, because we can't trust any one internal, to investigate the AFIS database. In the meantime, I'm gonna fume this jacket for prints. I'll call you when everyone is here."
"You okay?" Brass asked Sara as they walked down the familiar corridors.
"I think so. I guess, right now, I'm just glad to have some hope that he's not dead. I'm not ready for him to be gone from my life. Uh, I gotta get my kit." Detouring into the lab where she had abandoned Sophia to log in the evidence from their case, she felt a little guilty because she had only intended to be gone for a few minutes to grab a cup of coffee. But then, Greg had entered the break room and, for her, time came to a screeching halt.
Sara's POV
It isn't every day that you find out the man you worship has been murdered. You have all these little mementos of his existence in your life: a plant, a sterile fruit fly encased in resin from the case in San Francisco when you met him, various notes concerning cases you've worked here…….an airline luggage tag. You wonder why you keep that tag, scribbled in his distinctive script. It contains instructions as to where the San Francisco Crime Lab vehicle was parked. You picked it up from the airport the day after he left, returning to Las Vegas for good. You always wondered if there was a 'her' involved in his abrupt departure. Over a year later, he called and you came running. After all, no 'her' had materialized or you would have heard about it. A lot of harmless flirtation later, you pushed the envelope, to be resolutely rejected. You went home and put on The J. Geils Band, listening to 'Love Stinks' over and over.
You love her
But she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes
Till the day you die
This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues
The reds and the pinks
One thing for sure
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
"It's never easy, when it's someone you've worked with and care about." Brass closes his phone and remarks as you rejoin him. You briefly wonder if he contemplated saying this in order to assuage your feelings. Uncertain and uncaring, you noncommittally agree. "Yeah."
"Judy, we need to examine the vault." Brass informs the receptionist and presents his badge. "This is official, on my authority in conjunction with Sheriff Atwater in an active investigation." Judy nods and Brass reaches for the keypad beside the door.
"Wait, I need to print everything." Brass holds up his hands and steps back. You print the keypad, the doorknob and surrounding area before handing him a latex glove. "Okay, open the door." Brass watches from near the door while you work the room until you come to the file cabinet holding Grissom's records. You start to open the file cabinet drawer and he stops you.
"Sara, I can't release Grissom's file to you until I have written approval from Atwater. I called him while you were getting your kit. He said it would be here ASAP."
"Okay. Will you keep personal custody of the file until it is released?"
"Yes. I will." You hold up an evidence bag and he places the file inside. Sealing it, you write out the label and assign it a number before returning it to him.
TBC