Chapter Two
"Yo, Grissom." Warrick called after the older man, walking quickly to catch up to him. "Got some semen stains off our vic's boxers."
"And that's something interesting?" Grissom cocked an eyebrow.
"It is when you add a vaginal contribution." Warrick handed Grissom a folder, which the other man quickly opened. "It seems our vic had a little liaison with one Sandra Dee."
"The actress?"
"No, the hooker. Also known as Cynthia Lawrence."
"Well let's bring her in then," Grissom handed the file back. Warrick nodded and headed off down the hall.
The Caucasian woman sat on the metal chair, her legs crossed in front of her. Blonde hair cascaded down her back in lush curls and her doe brown eyes stared at Warrick innocently. Her face was the perfect girl-next-door look, but was contrasted sharply by the tight black miniskirt and ruby red tube top she wore.
"Miss Lawrence," Warrick placed a photo on the table and slid it towards the middle so that the woman across from him could see what was in the picture, "did you sleep with this man?"
"Yeah, so?" She smacked her gum and looked Warrick up and down.
"He's dead." The CSI said.
"He was alive when I left him." She cocked her head, as well as an attitude. "You tryin' to say I killed him. I don't think so man."
"Did you know his name?"
"Yeah right, like they gonna give me their names. Dude I don't ask no specifics, as long as they payin' I'm layin'." Warrick shook his head, disgusted that someone would choose this life for themselves.
"Look," he said, quickly growing irritated with the Ghetto Barbie wannabe, "right now, you're the prime suspect in this case. You were the last known person to see this man alive, so unless you start telling me everything you know, you're looking at twenty to life."
"I'm tellin' ya I didn't do it." She snapped, "You wanna know who whacked him, ask Lady Delia."
"Who's Lady Delia?"
"She runs a gentlemen's club just off the Strip, me and some of the other girls do business there. She let's us work out the back as long as she gets her sixty percent. You wanna know somethin' that's going down, she'll know all about it."
Men were seated about the dark club on plush, burgundy couches and chairs. The dark red lighting swirled with cigarette and cigar smoke. Women moved through the crowds dressed in skin-tight clothing that left nothing to the imagination. On the catwalk that sat opposite the bar, two women danced about, sashaying sensuously as they teased the men.
Warrick moved through the crowd, barely meeting the eyes of the women who looked at him. He approached the bar and leaned against the alcohol soaked wood. The female bartender eyed him and licked her lips seductively as she made her way towards him.
"Can I help ya doll?" She asked, her voice low and husky.
"I'm looking for Lady Delia." Warrick said, nearly shouting to be heard over the catcalls and loud music.
"She's in the back." The bartender inclined her head towards a black door that sat just next to the bar.
"Thanks." He weaved his way towards the door, the police officer that Brass had assigned to go with him following close behind. A beefy security guard stood in front of the door.
"Hold it," he commanded, putting up his hand to stop Warrick, "you can't go in there without permission from the Lady."
"I have my own permission." Warrick said, flashing his CSI badge. The guard looked from him to the officer then back to Warrick. He nodded quickly and stepped aside, opening the door as he did so. Warrick stepped through the door and into, if possible, an even darker, smokier room. Sounds of pleasure filled the air, coming from various corners of the room and from behind the doors that littered three of the walls.
"Can I help you?" A tall woman, made so by her high-heeled boots, asked. Her raven black hair was sleek and brushed her shoulders in gentle waves. She wore a black leather corset and tight black pants. Her skin was deathly pale in the dim, dark light that filled the room. She looked, for all intents and purpose like a modern day Elvira.
"I'm looking for Lady Delia." Warrick repeated.
"Well you found her good lookin'. What can I do for you today?" She placed two slim hands on her hips, causing her breasts, which were already threatening to spill out of her top, to stick out even more.
"I have some questions to ask you."
"Questions can wait my dear, what's your pleasure tonight?" Lady Delia ran a hand up Warrick's arm seductively. "Any of my girls would be more than willing to 'help' you out."
"I was actually hoping you could tell me who this man is." Warrick held out the vic's picture for the Lady to see.
"Sorry, I don't recognize him." Lady Delia replied, disinterestedly.
"Really?" Warrick asked skeptically, "Miss Lawrence said that you would know who he is."
"Who?"
"Cynthia Lawrence, Sandra Dee."
"Oh, that little bitch owes me five grand. You see her again you tell her I want my money." Lady Delia snapped. "Now beat it before you scare away my customers."
She sat at her vanity, craftily applying her make-up. A little lipstick, some blush, a bit of eye-shadow and eyeliner. She brushed her hair, working out the knots that had formed while she was tossing and turning during the night. She stood and straightened her clothing. Sighing, she surveyed her work. Perfect. She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
"Hey Grissom," Gil looked up from his paperwork to see Nick standing in the door way.
"Yes?" The older man asked.
"I found something that you might find interesting." Nick stepped into the crowded office, carefully bypassing a shelf full of cockroaches. He held up a slim file. "Seems there were four other murders in the past two years that are similar to this one." He placed the file on the desk and Grissom opened it, flipping through the information.
"These are all in different states." Grissom said, looking up at Nick.
"Yep." Nick nodded his head. "The only thing they have in common is the murder weapon, but I think it's something to look in to."
"Excuse me," the two men looked up at the doorway. Two people stood there: a man and woman. The man stepped forward. His hair was dark brown with streaks of gray showing through. Despite the gray though, this man appeared fit. His nose was slightly bent, obviously from being broken one too many times. He had been the one to speak.
"Can I help you?" Grissom asked.
"Actually, you can." The man said. "I am Agent Wilkins, and this is Agent Sawyer. We're with the FBI."
Grissom and Nick shared a look. They'd worked with the FBI before, and it hadn't exactly turned out great.
"We've been tracking the Ice Assassin for the past year-and-a-half. And, since this person has struck in more than one state, this is a Federal case."
"And what do you want us to do?" Grissom asked.
"I'm busy working the case in Ohio, but Agent Sawyer will join your team and do her part in this investigation. All your team needs to do is what they've been doing. Agent Sawyer will report your findings back to me and we'll have our analysts add all the new information to what we already have. It's quite simply really." Agent Wilkins said.
"I'll have to discuss this with my team." Grissom said, not at all happy about having to add a federal agent to the team.
"Mr. Grissom, sir, I assure you that I will not try to take over control of this investigation." Agent Sawyer said, stepping forward.
Had Grissom been standing, the woman would have been at nose level to him, and that was with heels on. Her dirty blonde hair was swept back into a ponytail, leaving her round face in full view. With almond shaped, green eyes, slightly pout lips, and a stubborn chin, it was a nice face to look at. Her eyes were hidden behind rectangular, black plastic framed glasses, which only seemed to magnify the intensity of her stare. She wore a simple, yet elegant pinstriped, black pant suit with a white blouse. She was young looking, probably only mid-twenties, and there was a girlish charm to her looks.
"That's very good Agent Sawyer," Grissom said.
"Please," she interrupted him, "call me Meg. I'm not comfortable with all this 'Agent' business."
"Meg," Grissom continued, "that's very nice that you don't want to take over, but I still need to discuss this with my team."
"I understand completely Mr. Grissom." Meg said.
"We'll be in touch." Agent Wilkins said, turning to leave," Just remember Mr. Grissom. Even if your team doesn't want Agent Sawyer on this case, she will be working with you. Don't like it? Take it up with the government."
Sorry it took me so long to update this story. I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter and will review. I am working on learning more about forensic science and all that so that I can better describe what is happening in each scene and you all won't get confused about too much.
TwigStudios1972: You are absolutely right, Grissom wouldn't have done that. Thank you for pointing out my mistake. I apologize for it and promise that I will do my best to make sure it won't happen again.
fanfictionfan: The reason I switch scenes so often is because there are only a few things that I want to cover in each scene depending on what is happening in that chapter. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but it's the way I write. Also, in doing scene changes so rapidly, I am trying to make this story fit with the set up of CSI episodes.
Sillie, csi-ds9, Firetiger2, Kimmuryiel, CSIchick, and just me: Thank you all so much for reviewing this chapter. It really means a lot to me that you all would take the time to tell me what you think.