Abby and Jimmy had spent most of the evening carefully matching the shapes of the instruments to the wound on the victim's torso, to no avail. The two of them were sitting in the lab, looking at the remaining items forlornly. None of the objects looked like they would fit the wound, no matter how they adjusted the angle of entry.
"There's got to be something left at the scene," said Abby.
"The guys are good at getting all the evidence," said Jimmy, unconvinced. "I can't believe that they'd miss a sharp, blood-covered object."
"You're right," replied Abby, dejected, "but we're missing something."
"What about the substance from the wound, do you know what it is yet?"
"Yeah, I told Tony. You're not going to believe what it was," Abby said cryptically.
"What?"
"Tomato, oregano, basil, sugar..." She grinned at Jimmy's confused expression. "It was pizza sauce!"
"Lieutenant Walker was killed with a slice of pizza?"
Abby hit his shoulder. "No Jimmy," she said, laughing. "There was an empty pizza box in the Lieutenant's apartment. He and whoever killed him probably knew each other and were eating pizza together. And were pretty messy about it. Sometimes men can be such pigs, no offense, Jimmy."
"None taken." Jimmy smiled at the lab tech, rubbing his shoulder. "Where do we go from here?"
"Well," Abby said, rolling her chair to the computer where she punched a few commands, calling up some pictures. "We start over. We look at every picture of the crime scene, taken from every possible angle. We see if there's something there that we're overlooking."
Jimmy grinned at Abby. "Let's get crackin'," he said.
Abby looked at him and shook her head. "You have to get out more, Jimmy."
"That's a perfectly good saying," Jimmy protested.
"Yeah, if you lived in Iowa about 40 years ago," she retorted.
"Maybe I'm just old fashioned."
Abby snorted. "Okay, Jimmy, if you say so." The two studied the crime scene pictures silently.
"I still think that the wound has to have been made by one of those Eiffel Tower statues," Abby said. "And what self-respecting man collects statues of the Eiffel Tower anyway? Especially a munitions expert. He should have a collection of guns and knives and stuffed animal heads."
"I collect pigs," Jimmy said.
Abby turned to look at him. "Pigs? As in 'oink oink'?"
Jimmy nodded. "I have little statues, a lot of banks, a mobile of flying pigs..."
"Ooookay."
"Abby, it's no stranger than your collection of voodoo masks," Jimmy said.
Abby nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry, Jimmy, I'm being judgmental and I hate judgmental people. The world is made of different people with different tastes; it's what makes us interesting. I'd love to see your pig collection someday."
Jimmy grinned at her. "I'd love to see your voodoo collection, too, Abby."
"We'll have a show and tell day," declared Abby.
Tony walked into the lab. "Find the fatal slice of pizza yet, Abs?" he asked.
"No, Tony," she replied. "I swear it's got to be one of the Eiffel Tower statues, but none of these fit the cast Jimmy made of the wound."
"We'll have to go back to the scene, see if we missed a statue," Tony said. "Abs, there's a Lieutenant Porter in the interrogation room. I want you to go and get a DNA swab, he's already agreed to it."
"You got it, Tony."
"Hey Tony, what kind of man do you think collects statues of the Eiffel Tower?" Abby asked, winking at Jimmy.
"Someone who has issues with his manhood," Tony replied, not missing a beat.
Surprised, Abby said, "Really?"
"Sure, you know, the whole phallic symbol thing. He's into guns and fast cars and he's got two women on a string, that we know of." Tony continued, "He was probably overshadowed by his father, you know, all that psychobabble stuff."
"Hmm," Abby sat there thinking, for a second, "Jimmy collects pigs."
"Don't know what that means," replied Tony. "Maybe something about money or rolling around in mud."
"Or rolling around in money," added Abby.
"They're cute," Jimmy said.
"Or, maybe they're cute," agreed Tony on his way out of the lab. "We'll go find your Eiffel Tower, Abby."
Going back to the squad room, Tony found McGee still working at his computer, trying to find any activity on Walker's e-mail and phone records that would reveal a disagreement with someone, something that would point to a possible motive and suspect for the young man's murder.
"Where's Ziva?" asked Tony.
"She got a call and said something about going to see someone," replied McGee, distractedly.
"Come on, Probie." Tony pulled his gun and badge out of his desk drawer. "Get out from behind the computer."
McGee quickly pulled out his own weapon and followed Tony. "Where we going?"
"Back to the crime scene to see if we can find the Eiffel Tower."
She stood in the shadows, silently watching the house. She had gotten a call from one of her sources that he was in the country. Now she waited until he came back to the one place she knew he couldn't resist.
"Something I can do for you?"
Ziva whirled around, reaching for her weapon. Her arm was caught in a viselike grip and she looked into the face of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Her eyes narrowed and she frowned at the slight smirk on his face.
"If I were Hamas your throat would be slit by now," he said, matter-of-factly.
"I see your reflexes haven't slowed down while you were wasting away in Mexico," she said.
Gibbs grinned and released her arm. "Come on in," he said, walking back to the house.
Following him into the kitchen, Ziva looked around curiously, taking in the details of Gibbs' home. He took two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, opened them and handed one to her.
"Todah," she said, taking a hefty swallow.
"How'd you know I was back?" he asked.
"I had one of my sources notify me if you showed up on their radar," she replied.
He nodded. "Is there any particular reason why you were watching out for my return?"
"I was hoping you'd come back and I could talk you into taking your job back," she replied.
"Tony's the team leader now," said Gibbs, shaking his head. "I'm retired."
"Tony's a good agent," argued Ziva. "He's got great instincts and he's a great person, but I don't know if he's ready to lead a team."
"Has he been screwing up?" Gibbs asked.
Ziva hesitated. "No, he hasn't screwed up."
"Is he hard to work with? Has the power gone to his head?"
"No, he's a good boss. I think McGee's gained even more confidence since he's become Tony's senior field agent."
"Then what's the problem?"
"It's our current case. We're floundering around like fish out of water, Gibbs," Ziva said, frustrated. "We have no motive, no murder weapon, we may have a suspect."
"So you've got your first hard case and you're ready to give up on him already?" Gibbs shook his head. "I'm disappointed in you, Ziva."
Ziva bristled at the reprimand. "I haven't given up on Tony," she said. "I just think that we need someone with more experience leading the team."
"You forget that Tony has years of experience, more than you," Gibbs said sharply.
"Yes, I know he's experienced, but he's never led a team before," argued Ziva.
"And it's about time he did," said Gibbs, cutting her off. "You may recall I wasn't too happy about your unexpected assignment to my team." Ziva stiffened at that.
"That worked out, didn't it?" Ziva nodded, relaxing when she saw Gibbs smile. "Give him the same chance we gave you."
Gibbs finished his beer and grabbed another from the refrigerator, handing Ziva her second as well. The two still stood, Ziva watching Gibbs thoughtfully.
"I still think you should come back," she said finally. "If not to lead the team, then to work with us in some capacity."
"Why would I do that?" Gibbs said.
"Because you know you want to," Ziva replied. "You can't live the life of a retired gentleman, you can't re-enlist in the Marines, you're too old." Gibbs snorted at that
"And because I've never worked for someone like you before," she continued, softly. "I know there's so much more I can learn from you. I feel cheated. Tony had the chance to learn from you for four years, McGee for two. I only had a taste of what you could teach me."
Gibbs shook his head. "Not gonna happen," he said. "Just give Tony the support he needs; you can learn a lot from him too, you know."
"Not in bed," she said, smiling.
"No comment," Gibbs said.
"You can both learn from each other," he continued, seriously, "Your experience with terrorists is invaluable, he'll need your advice and expertise. But don't dismiss his experience as a cop, his instincts and powers of observation, they might just save your life someday, I know they've saved his."
Ziva nodded, "Thank you, Jethro," she said, "I'll remember that."
... to be continued