21.
Horatio, toying with his sunglasses again, stood alone outside of one of the booking rooms and minutely studied the man being processed inside. Owen Parnell stood just shy of 6'2", he was approximately 35 years old and had managed to avoid falling out of shape since leaving the military, probably because of the constant discipline that had been drilled into him. He still kept his head shaved nearly bald and was dressed in tan Dockers, boots and a dark blue cotton dress shirt. Owen Parnell was standing calmly, lost in another world, as Tripp, Calleigh, Officer Jessup, and Ryan (still in a 'volunteer' capacity), began booking the man into custody.
Frank Tripp had been in the right place at the right time and had collared Owen Parnell as the man had returned to one of his familiar haunts. By now, through the combined activities of Calleigh and Eric (along with Frank and the resources at his hands) they had had a fairly good idea where he was likely to be found and with whom. Once arrested, without much of a struggle, they had brought him in and were currently processing the man for evidence.
It was already obvious that Parnell was coming up too clean. There was no gun shot residue on him or his clothes, and there was no gun found with him. Then again, several hours had passed since the shooting of Lionel's BMW; Parnell could have showered and disposed of both his clothes and the gun anywhere and anyplace during that time, thus losing valuable evidence.
Maxine Valera was already on an epithelial hunt through the man's keys, his wallet, his credit cards --anything that had been on him at the time of his arrest -- which could be used in tracing DNA, while Eric had put several co-workers on processing the man's car. Delko was back at the Parnell home and had started going back over anything that could be remotely tied to Owen Parnell in his brother's house. They had yet to determine Parnell's current residence.
Calleigh had earlier collected what evidence she could at the overpass, yielding gunshot residue from the protective chain link fencing, but little else, Parnell had been thorough. Not a fingerprint, not a hair, not a fiber, was left behind. Having just finished checking his hands and the front of his shirt for GSR, Calleigh was neatly marking the evidence envelope while Frank tossed a pair of orange jail coveralls at the man.
"Okay, hotshot," Frank growled, his hazel eyes unblinking in a scarily penetrating stare at the suspect. "Start stripping."
Calleigh, arranging a series of different sized bags on the table, reached over and picked up her camera, before turning to Parnell.
"Take each article of clothing off one at a time and hand them to this officer," she said, indicating Ryan, who would then bag and mark each piece of clothing. Parnell was indifferent to the whole procedure until it came time to remove his undershirt and pants.
"What's the hold up, Parnell?" Frank asked.
Calleigh was prepping the camera for the photographing of distinguishing scars and tattoos, etc., when she looked up at Parnell.
"Pardon me for saying this, but are you taking the pictures?" Parnell asked.
"Yes, I am, but that's okay," Calleigh replied, "I'm not shy."
Parnell glared at her with steely eyes.
"Off with the shirt," Frank ordered. Parnell, not moving, glanced towards Frank then slowly began peeling his undershirt off.
As expected, there were a few small tattoos and a number of scars.
"Hold your arms out to the sides, please," Calleigh said and began snapping photos. Parnell, with the faintest of snarls on his blank features, lifted his arms.
"Quarter turn to the right, please," Calleigh went on, photographing the man in painstaking detail. She got front, sides and back then both of his arms.
"All right, you can drop your pants now," she said, matter-of-factly, adjusting the lens on her camera.
Parnell balked.
"Come on, jar head!" Frank snapped out. "The lady said strip."
"Why isn't he taking the photos?" he demanded, jutting his chin out in Ryan's direction.
"Shy, all of a sudden?" Frank growled. "Wolfe here is only volunteering, besides, he can't focus a camera lens just now. Come on, tough guy, drop your drawers!" Frank barked.
"If you prefer, Mr. Parnell," Calleigh said coldly. "Another male CSI can come in here and take the photographs we need. Any way about it, we will have the photographs taken."
Parnell, his gaze dark and cold, looked Calleigh in the eyes and smirked. She wasn't the least bit ruffled. With a long pause, he studied her just as coldly as she was studying him before he unzipped his pants and dropped them to the floor. He kicked them off and stepped back. Ryan, looking amused and annoyed at the same time, retrieved them, and true to his OCD complex, folded them neatly before slipping them into a bag and marking them as evidence.
With his arms loosely at his sides, Parnell continued to try and stare down Calleigh. He had one long ragged scar on his left leg, but no tattoos.
"Keep going, buddy." Frank snapped.
Parnell looked straight down the sight of Calleigh's camera as he dropped his boxers, and kicked them towards Ryan. He had one --very noticeable-- piercing. The camera flashed three times in succession. Frank let out a snort of amusement.
"Bet the girls just love chaining that thing up," he said sarcastically.
"Down," Calleigh replied, turning away without batting an eye.
"What?" Frank asked, looking at Calleigh, perplexed.
"It's for keeping a man's slacks from looking unfashionably obvious. You chain down to the thigh."
"It's for more than that, as well…" Parnell murmured, gazing at Calleigh steadily. "Sure you don't want to take a few more?"
"Watch it, jar head!" Frank snapped, still looking at Calleigh incredulously. "You're joking, right?"
"No, I'm not," she said, serious as a heart attack as Ryan tried to refrain from snickering. She adjusted of the camera and continued her narrative.
"In the 19th century it became rather fashionable for a gentleman to pierce himself and tie down to prevent unsightly bulges in front of the ladies, especially at high society functions. With piercing being all the rage these days, that type of piercing has become somewhat popular again, particularly in higher society." She turned and looked at Parnell, who was slowly pulling on the orange jail outfit.
Ryan suddenly cleared his throat, picked up a small evidence envelope and held it out to Calleigh, looking at her with a slightly challenging raised eyebrow. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh yes," she said, setting the camera down and taking the envelope. She turned around to Parnell.
"We'll have to take that. It's evidence."
Parnell, about to pull the coveralls up, paused and looked her in the eye before he licked his lips and murmured, "Want to take it off for me?"
"Just give her the damn thing!" Frank snapped. Parnell shot a sly look towards Frank then turned to lock his gaze with Calleigh's. Letting the coveralls fall, he continued to try staring her down as he removed the ring and dropped it into the envelope.
"Thank you," she replied, folding the envelope and handing it back to Ryan. "Officer Jessup will be staying here with you for the time being, Mr. Parnell. We'll be back later." She gathered her camera and kit while Ryan stacked the evidence bags together.
"Frank, do you mind?" she asked, nodding at the door.
Still looking at Parnell in a mixture of disbelief and disgust, Frank opened the door for her and the three of them walked out. Ryan was about to burst, but they all saw Horatio standing there.
"Go on ahead, Ryan. I'll be down later." Calleigh said, as she set her kit and camera aside.
"Gotcha," Ryan replied and disappeared as fast as he could.
"Horatio?" Calleigh asked, glancing at him and peeling off her latex gloves.
"Does he seem the type to you to be wearing the clothes he was wearing?" Horatio asked.
Calleigh smiled at him. "You noticed that, too?"
"Noticed what? If he's anything like his brother, he should be wearing jeans and plaid shirts from Wally's world." Frank grumbled, looking back into the room at Parnell.
"If he's accessorized for high society functions, he shouldn't be wearing Dockers and Faded Glory dress shirts either," Calleigh pointed out and looked slyly at Horatio. "But then you already had that one figured out."
"He's not exactly the type to be socializing with Coconut Grove and Bal Harbour types now is he?" Horatio pointed out.
"Quit leaving the dumb ass behind," Frank said, looking at them both in exasperation.
"Sorry Frank!" Calleigh apologized. "What we are both pointing out, in our own way, is that Mr. Parnell was wearing very new clothing. So new they still had the folds. If that accessory of his was any indication, he'd usually be wearing more top of the line clothes then the very new items he had on in there. That means he probably stopped at a Wal-Mart somewhere between the overpass on Ocean Beach Drive and where you picked him up."
"Somewhere he is more comfortable shopping for men's clothes then the fancier places on Lincoln Road," Horatio pointed out.
"Meaning that the clothes he was wearing could still be found," Frank said and smiled like a dangerous pit bull. "Now that I can understand, I'm all over that," he said and began moving off.
"Keep in touch," Horatio said as Frank moved off. Horatio looked at Calleigh.
"He is one cool customer, on top of it," Calleigh added.
"So I noticed."
"How are you doing?" Calleigh asked, studying him a moment.
"I'm all right," Horatio said, blinking a little in surprise at her question before ducking his chin and looking away.
"Any word on Miss Demereau?"
"Still in surgery. I stopped by a little while ago," he replied, then promptly changed the subject. "Now, what I want to know is, if a man of Parnell's background is socializing with Bal Harbour types, it must mean he's being coached by somebody, and I am suddenly curious who that someone might be. He cannot be acting alone," Horatio said.
"No, he can't be," Calleigh replied. "He's in someone's pocket, that much is certain." She paused and glanced at him. "Still letting me take first stab at this?"
"Of course, unless Eric comes up with something new. This is still your case." Horatio affirmed.
Calleigh nodded and smiled at him. "How long will we be able to hold him?"
"Since we're only holding him on suspicion for the Seattle handgun case, we need to match his DNA to what Seattle recovered from the sniper site to hold him long enough for extradition. Otherwise we are on the clock, unless we can find anything to tie him to Lionel Harrison's murder." Horatio replied.
"Well, if that's the case, I am going to get onto finding something to hold him even longer. Where will you be?" Calleigh asked, turning to gather her things.
"The trauma ward at Mt. Sinai Medical Center," Horatio said, slipping his sunglasses on and striding off.