ACID BATH
Please accept my apologies again for taking so long to get back to this. It is amazing to me how just listening or reading someone else's work can get one's own creative juices flowing again. Hope this meets with your approval. Beckaboo
Chapter 13
Brass sat across the conference table from two very youthful-appearing offices. The rookies seemed to more child-like every year, he mused, wondering if he had looked that young when he started.
Each of them had been with the composite artist and Brass marveled at how different each sketch looked. These men were trained observers, but the only consistencies were his name—Brown—from the tag on his shirt breast and his badge number. "Well," he finally spoke, "We have established he's a Caucasian male about thirty-five to forty years of age. We have his height and weight. You both agree on his name and badge number, so we are running that now. Tell me how it is I have two very different faces?"
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"Brown, Warrick," Brass called into the break room where Warrick and Sara wee pouring over lab results and sipping coffee. He barked out Warrick's badge number.
"Brass?" Warrick cocked an eyebrow.
"Let's see here…" Brass went down a list stating Warrick's height, weight, eye and hair colors and hairstyle. "Yep, sounds like you, but…"
"But?" Warrick wondered if he should laugh. What was Brass getting at with all this.
"But," Brass continued, a glint shining in his pale eyes, "he is a Caucasian, according to the report."
"What report?" Warrick sat back in his chair.
"The report from the officers on the scene at Brina's house when Sara got clobbered. It indicates a last name and badge number and, brother, it was you."
A cautious smile pulled at Warrick's lips. "You're kidding." Sara spoke up. "Right?"
Brass handed them the file with the two composites inside. Sara tapped Warrick playfully on the shoulder. "And all this time I thought you were African American. You been using makeup?" She pinched his cheek playfully.
Warrick slowly shook his head. "This guy's better than I thought. He should have used makeup. Nobody would have believed it wasn't me if he had." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Brass, I have an idea," He picked up the composites and headed for the audiovisual lab. He placed the two photos in the scanner and tapped on a few keys. Soon, they were looking at a composite of the composites, and Warrick's skin went ashen.
"Well, well," Brass said, smiling and tapping Warrick on the shoulder. "Mr. Brown, you're under arrest."
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"Brass," Greg called as the older detective walked by the DNA lab. "I think we cut a break."
"Yeah?" God knew they needed one. "We found one stray hair at the Zimmerman house that had a follicle still attached. Ran it through the DNA database and got a hit." He handed a file to Brass.
"Very good," he stood a little taller, not quite as tired as he had felt a moment ago. "But, can we link him to the other scenes?"
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Brass shot his most intimidating gaze across the desk at the two rookies before him, trying not to grin at his toys. He had moments earlier finished re-reading the report under his hands. A very good report for rookies, he had to admit, but he could see room for improvement. After seeing sweaty foreheads on both, who tried but failed to hide their tension, he picked up the audiovisual rendition of the suspect. It was that of a tan Caucasian or light-skinned African American male in regulation NVPD uniform cap and shirt, sunglasses shielding his eyes. A hint of curly dark hair could be seen at the edge of the hat. Brass turned the photo toward the officers. "So," he began, "you ever see this guy before that day?"
The two officers stared at Brass, unable to move. "No, sir," the attractive, blonde female sitting to Brass's right admitted, "just that day. I thought he was new."
Brass allowed a crooked smirk to cross his lips. "Well, yeah. Guess you could say he was." Then, turning to the younger, tall and pale male officer, he continued. "Have any contact with him?"
The dark-skinned, bean-pole of a kid frowned over at him. "Just enough to exchange names and take assignments. Although hindsight, I felt he was a bit pushy about wanting the interior assignment."
"Did you now?" But of course, that was hindsight. Wasn't it always twenty-twenty? Or was this kid just saying that to cover his behind. "Look," Brass sighed, "don't bull me. Nobody expects you to get things perfect all the time. That said, look at the report and see if anything is missing or looks wrong." He handed them both copies and stepped from behind the desk. "I'll be right back," he said, heading for the hallway where Warrick awaited him. They watched from behind the glass wall as the UNIs perused their report, nodding to each other in approval. "Well," Brass looked up into Warrick's ice blue eyes, "they agree." He waved Warrick ahead of him into the office. Warrick pulled a chair up next to Brass's desk and sat down beside the bullish man. "Rick, this is Officer Colt McGarrett and Officer Mannix Derringer."
Officer Derringer tried not to wince at the mention of her given name. Would she ever live that first name down? What had her parents been thinking? She saw the glint that came into this gentleman's eyes at the mention of it. Then, she realized that Captain Brass was saying something.
"He has a vested interest in this case." A crooked smile came to his lips. "So, you are sure all your information is correct?"
"Yes, sir," said Mannix, nodding nervously. "It's all correct."
Warrick crossed his arms slowly, giving the UNIs his best cold, blank stare. Brass nodded. "That's interesting. Oh, by the way," he continued, as if he'd just had a thought, "did I mention the badge number you mentioned was Rick's? And that his last name is Brown? Oh, yeah, and he's a CSI." The two officers turned snow white and, Brass thought, might need a change of clothes soon. He loved messing with the rookies, especially if a friend could be brought on board to help. "He has the mother of all alibis, by the way. Not only was he working clear across town, his partner can verify this…" a pause, just long enough for them to open their mouths, but not long enough to say his partner would, of course, alibi him, "…and so does the vic."
"B-but Captain Brass," Officer McGarrett began, his skinny frame shaking like a rattler's tale. Brass held up a silencing hand, smiling his genial, fatherly smile.
"You reported what you saw. I know that. It is absolutely not your fault that the perp's so clever. We didn't realize until after Ms. Sidle's attack that our perp had access to law enforcement uniforms or, at the very least, extremely good fakes."
"This isn't the first time he has fooled one of us," Warrick admitted, his gaze softening on the two UNIs. "Don't let this big lug yank your chain and don't worry. You both did better than I would have as a rookie."
A duet of signs came from the two before them. "Now," Brass started. "here's what I want you to do."