Laws of Motion – Book 3
Written by: Ms. Maggs/Edited by: KJT
Chapter 5
Sunday, September 25, 2006
La Estancia – San Diego
11:14 p.m.
"I love you, Becca," Tony panted in his wife's ear seconds after their love making came to a close. It wasn't a planned declaration, it just slipped, which made it feel incredibly right even though common sense told him it was much too soon.
After his plans to say the heartfelt three words at the beach had been thwarted by Mother Nature, they had driven back to the hotel in relative silence. Unable to take the tension in their room for more than a minute, he slammed his wife's body into his and kissed her hard on the lips. Seconds later, they were on the bed jockeying for the top spot. Everything else leading up to the defining moment was a blur, but now that the words were out there, he knew his heart was on the line once more.
Cupping her husband's face in the moonlit hotel room, Becca gulped, "I'd be crying tears of joy right now, but the Zoloft won't let me."
"'I love you, Tony' would have worked there, but the Zoloft comment was sweet too." After chuckling with her, he whispered, "Just so we're clear, I didn't say to say it or because you wanted me to say it. I felt it. The moment was perfect."
"It was." After filling her lungs with air, she contentedly sighed, "If we get killed by a devastating 8.0 California earthquake tonight, I'll die a happy girl who had the most wonderful day of her life. Seriously, I could croak right now of a freak aneurism and it would be cool, because today has to be as good as life gets."
Tony rolled onto his back laughing. "That's absolutely the most morbid thing a chick has ever said to me in bed, and yet…it's also the best."
Snuggling up, she closed her eyes and savored the love of a good, honest man.
Nick and Carrie's
11:24 p.m.
After dropping off his sister and Jean at the airport, Nick raced home with a dozen red roses in a pretty vase adorned with a frilly ribbon. "Hey, Binda!" He bent down to give the pup a scratch. "Take me to mommy, girl."
Following the pup down the hall, he broke out singing the chorus from Garth Brooks' If Tomorrow Never Comes.
"My singing cowboy is home!" Carrie yelled from the master bathroom.
"Did I try in every way to show her every day that she's the only one?" Stepping into the bedroom, he sang with even more verve. "And if my time on Earth were through, and she must face the world without me, is the love I gave her in the past, gonna be enough to last?"
"Yes!" Walking out in her most delicately feminine white-lace nightgown, she smiled at her man and the roses. "Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."
"Sorry, Darlin', I bought 'em for Binda."
Falling into his open arms, she laughed, "Are you ready for the massage and snuggle I promised you?"
"Yes, ma'am." While she went to the nightstand to get out the massage oil, he set the vase on the dresser and shucked everything but his grey boxer-briefs. "Do you think my scar is fadin' at all?" He ran his fingers over it, then scratched it vigorously. "It still itches like hell."
"Are you using the cream I bought you?"
"Nah, I keep forgetting."
"Do I have to leave a big note on the bathroom mirror to remind you?"
"My mom did that for me when I wasn't brushing my teeth, so yeah, I think that would work." When he saw her stare at him he covered his tracks, "Just kiddin', I'll remember to start usin' it tomorrow." Groaning, he crashed onto the fluffy comforter. "Don't be offended if I fall asleep during." He immediately cracked up, "There's a phrase I've never uttered before!"
Laughing, she straddled the backs of his thighs. "So, I'm the only girl you've thought of falling asleep on…great."
"Damn." When she kissed his cheek he knew she wasn't offended. "You were fantastic with Delores today. She smelled so nasty too. Tryin' on shoes with her had to be a chore."
"It was at first, but once I started talking with her, it faded." Working in the almond-scented oil, Carrie enjoyed the feel of her man's muscular flesh against her hands and suddenly she wished he wasn't so tired. "When we were arguing yesterday, you said 'Some poor woman in Asia gets paid a dime a day to make designer shoes and they probably cost the company ten bucks tops. How can a smart girl like me not feel like a dope for fallin' for that?'
"Thanks for remindin' me I was mean."
"No, today, when I was shopping with Delores, I realized how right you are. The woman had a six hundred dollar Kate Spade tote bag and thought it was ugly as sin. She only liked it because of the compartments inside." Kneading her fiancé's tight muscles, she explained, "You're a lot like Delores, Nicky."
"I knew I shoulda showered."
"No," she chuckled and smacked the back of his head. "You're a practical person. If something doesn't have a purpose, it's worthless."
"So, I don't smell?" Suddenly he was wired and hoping his urge for loving wouldn't be rebuffed.
"Actually, you do kind of smell, but if I coat you with enough of this almond oil, it will overpower your stench."
"Damn, could we get any more romantic tonight?"
"You could fart for me."
"The beans I had with my steak and eggs are workin' on me a bit, so you may get your wish."
"Uh…considering where I'm positioned, I'd really you rather not."
He solved the problem, by rolling onto his back. "Now the comforter will take the hit if it happens." She looked gorgeous poised above him in delicate lace. "Would you…" He didn't have to finish his thought because she was already there taking care of him.
With her oily hands, she caressed his scar. "It's very dry, that's why it's itching."
"I was just gonna ask you to do that." Loving her for taking such good care of him, his voice filled with regret, "I'm really sorry for callin' you a dope yesterday. I can't believe I let this shoe thing block all the wonderful things you do for me."
"Nah, I really was being a dope." Chiding her selfish, she poured more oil into her palm. "Today, when Delores said she loved her twenty dollar Target tote bag a million times more than the Kate Spade one, I stood there thinking, 'she's right, this bag is much better and prettier, but I would have bought the Kate Spade one for the stupid label.'"
"Even Superheroes always have one weakness. Yours is designer labels."
"I think I'll write a book called 'Lessons from the Homeless: A Look at Greed in America'."
"I look forward to reading all five hundred pages over coffee in the morning."
"Ha!" Massaging his pecs she enjoyed his body and his smile. "I think it will take me a little longer than that because I'll have to actually interview the homeless." To hint at what she wanted, Carrie threw her hips into action and intensified the massage.
"Mmm…I can't believe I used to kick you out of the top spot." Savoring everything she was doing, he whispered, "Sweetheart, if tomorrow never comes, you know I love you with all my heart, right?"
"I really do." She slid until their faces were inches apart and their bodies only separated by the lace of her gown and the cotton of his boxers. "Do you believe me that you're the only one I want from now until the end of time?"
"Yes," he answered, gathering lace until the gown was past her hips. "And I know you're definitely the right woman for me…the perfect woman. I can't imagine living a day without you in my life."
Using the trick Becca taught her, she had his boxers on the floor in seconds. "Don't worry, Cowboy, you'll never get the chance, because I'm not going anywhere."
"Mmm…thanks for volunteerin' to help my 'one a day' addiction," he joked, placing his hands on Carrie's hips to urge the merge, while loving the loss of control.
"Too bad we're not videotaping this."
"Why?" He glanced around, wondering exactly where the camera was because taping things suddenly sounded like a really good idea.
Looming over her man, she wrapped her fingers around his wrists. "So we could send a copy to Lady Heather to prove I can dominate you whenever I like."
Taunted by her parted lips that she was keeping just out of reach, he whimpered, "Exactly how long are ya gonna keep me waitin', Roxie?"
"Mmm…wouldn't you like to know?" After giving him the kiss he'd been trying to steal, she shared some good news, "In case tomorrow never comes, Tex…tonight I'm gonna love you like it's the end of the world as we know it."
"Now those are some of the sweetest words I've ever heard."
Monday, September 26, 2006
Maui Memorial Hospital
3:04 a.m. HST
"I'm such a loser! A total failure!" While she stood in the bustling emergency room hall trying to keep out of the way, Tawny passed the time cursing herself for leaving Greg alone in their hotel room. "I hate me!"
"I've got ginger ale and crackers for you, Chuckles! And People Magazine, so we can pass the time laughing at celebrities." Tawny tossed her room key on the table and cracked open one of the soda cans. "Are you feeling better now that you've purged everything?" she optimistically asked on her way to the bathroom. "Greg…oh my God!" The sight of her husband's lifeless body and bloody face sent her running for the phone. Unsure if they had 911, she dialed the front desk, "Help! My husband needs an ambulance! He was throwing up, and now he's unconscious and bleeding. Tell them to hurry!"
"Mrs. Sanders…" Doctor Ohana walked over. "We have a total of twenty-two cases of food poisoning now, all of them reporting that they consumed shrimp at the same luau as your husband. The CDC has been notified and samples from your husband and all of the patients will be submitted. You'll be kept in the loop."
"But they'll be okay?"
"At his age, with a healthy immune system, your husband will bounce back quickly. It's the elderly patients who are in jeopardy of complications. We'll keep your husband for observation and IV fluids for a few more hours and if all goes well, he'll be discharged."
"Thank you, Doctor." Tawny wiped her tears as they fell. "Oh, I keep forgetting to ask. How many stitches did he get?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve! Oh my God! What chance do my kids have of surviving if I'm this bad at taking care of a grown man when he needs me! I suck! I'm having twins!Two helpless babies!" Placing her hands on her belly, she whimpered, "These sweet little girls deserve a much better mommy."
The doctor patted the attractive woman's shoulder while reminding himself not to gape at her breasts which seemed on the verge of spilling out of her top. "Getting ginger ale and crackers was the breast thing…best thing to do. However, in the future if something like this should happen, make sure the patient is lying down with a bucket available if you have to leave the room for a few minutes, and always prop the person on their side, so if they vomit, they don't choke. Try not to beat yourself up, Mrs. Sanders." The young doctor winked at her before walking away. "Since you're newlyweds, I'm sure your husband will forgive you." One night with you and those tits, and I'd die a happy man.
With her head hung low, Tawny returned to Greg's ER cubicle. "Hey, Sweetie." He still looked terrible and the sight of the bandage set off a new round of guilt pangs. "Are you starting to feel a little better?"
"Yeah," he replied in a weak voice. "How long did the doctor say I have to stay here?"
"They want to give you more fluids before releasing you. Probably two or three hours." Sitting on the edge of the bed, she kissed his bandaged forehead. "I'm sooooo sorry I left you in the bathroom."
"You were just trying to help," he soothed while reaching for her hand. "If you forgave me for getting you pregnant with twins, I don't think you have to worry about me holding a grudge over a cut on my head. Is the doctor going to run tests to see if my mom poisoned me?" That was what he had told her to request.
"It wasn't your mom." Tawny stroked his pale cheek. "There are twenty-two cases of food poisoning all from the same luau. The doctor said it's been reported to the CDC."
"Maybe my mom poisoned the food at the luau."
"Please, stop." She placed a tender kiss on clammy his cheek. "Your mother is manipulative, but she's not a murderer." I hope not anyway.
Ely State Prison
6:13 a.m.
After a restless night fueled by anticipation, Mike was grateful to be out and eating the slop they called breakfast in the dining hall.
"What the hell has you so happy today, Rev?" Zander Simms, the occupant of the cell next to Mike, took a seat at the table in his usual spot. "Did you hear Crazy Mack got Dis-Seg for tryin' to stick Antoine?"
"Antoine is a friggin' cockroach," Mike replied after his last bite. "He survives every time. I'll miss him when I'm gone."
"You're on Buck Rodgers Time, man. You ain't goin' nowhere. Unless you're really startin' to believe that religiouscrap you're spewin' and expect a miracle."
Mike unfurled his trademark grin. "Twenty bucks says I'm thirty days to the gate tops."
"Now I get it, you're trippin'. The good Reverend smoked a pinner before breakfast." Zander scooped his eggs laughing. "Hell yeah, I'll be happy to take your cash thirty days from now when your ass is sittin' right there."
"Even though I'll be back in uniform, I won't forget my friends on the inside. When you get out on parole, I'll have you over to my new house."
The Grissoms
6:21 a.m.
From the window of her home office, Sara had a clear view of the house across the street and she watched intently to see if Mrs. Rodgers would go running again that morning. On her days off, she wanted to take Flash for long walks in the neighborhood park, and hoped she wouldn't have to run into her neighbor every time.
"Sara…" When she clutched her chest screaming, Gil apologized, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I would have thought you heard Flash and me coming down the hall."
"I was lost in thought."
"Are you going to take him for a walk this morning after I head to the lab?"
"Yeah." She smiled at Flash. "I'll wear my iPod and pretend I can't hear crazy Marlene if she starts yelling at me." Crouching down, she scratched her dog's head. "You'll bark at the bitch, won't you, boy?"
"We should train him to recognize her scent and then he could warn you when she's coming, and you'd never be surprised."
La Estancia
8:34 a.m.
When Becca peered through the peep hole of her hotel room door she saw a bellman holding a vase of red roses. "Tony!"
"Surprise!" he yelled from the bathroom where he was indisposed.
The excited wife threw open the door and read the guy's name tag. "You're getting a huge tip, Byron! They're red! All red!"
"Don't worry about the tip, your husband already took good care of me." He walked in and placed the flowers on the table. "Enjoy the flowers." Then he leaned in and whispered, "There's a little something extra in the center, but you didn't hear it from me." Whistling, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
While Tony was in the john, she parted the roses and saw a blue Tiffany box.
"Do they smell good? Get your nose in there and take a good whiff."
She smiled at his ploy. "Hey, there's something stuck in there. What the…"
Tony came out of the bathroom drying his hands on the fluffy white hotel robe he was wearing. "That's surprise number two."
"When did you go to Tiffany's!" she asked while snatching the box from the bouquet.
"When I was with Reg." The gleam in her eyes was even brighter than he anticipated. "I know you said you love the ring I bought you from the Mirage gift shop when I was plastered, but I wanted to get you something a little more in line with the jewelry you wear." Chuckling he added, "I have to admit, it felt great walking into a store knowing I could buy what I liked instead of worrying if I had enough money in the bank to afford it. I hope I did better this time than when I was shit-faced on our wedding night."
"Oh, Tony." It was ideal. "You did great! It's fantastic, which is fitting, because so are you."
Waving her hand, she urged, "Put it on me! I can't wait to see it on me."
"Becca, standing before you stone-cold sober and knowing you for more than a few hours, I'd like to say…with this ring, I promise to love and cherish you for the rest of my life." Thrilled by the smile dominating her face, he slid the diamond band on her finger and sealed it in place with a kiss.
"Damn! I wish I had a nicer ring for you. The one I bought from the chapel was so cheap."
"Hey…" Reaching into the pocket of his robe he produced a platinum and diamond band for himself. "Look what I found!"
"Ooh, very stylish! You have excellent taste."
"I thought you'd like it." He happily tugged off the uncomfortable gold one he'd been wearing. "Ready."
"Tony, standing before you under the influence of anti-depressants, instead of Armadale Vodka, and knowing you for more than a few hours, I'd like to say…with this ring, I promise to love and cherish you for the rest of my life." Following his lead, she placed a kiss on top of the ring once it was in place.
"You know what the best part is, Becks?" Sweeping her off her feet, he rushed her to the bed. "We get to redo the honeymoon!"
"I should have seen that coming!"
The Royale Hotel and Casino
9:26 a.m.
"He never saw it coming," Detective Vega informed Catherine and Grissom as they dipped under the crime scene tape in the hallway. "Bullet right between the eyes while he was sleeping. You know what I'm thinking, it was a hit and the order came from this lovely establishment's owner."
Grissom was thinking the same as he entered Charlie Dwyer's hotel suite, but he'd never say it out loud.
"We know he claimed his belongings from Property at eight seventeen, and promptly left the station." Catherine set down her kit in the main room and grabbed a pair of gloves.
Vega pointed to the bedroom. "Looks like he showered and hit the sheets. The kid had to be exhausted after the day he had. There's a bottle of Valium on the counter too. I figure someone was hiding and as soon as Charlie nodded out, the hitman popped him in the third eye, but I'll wait and let you tell me that officially."
"Thank you," Grissom droned while glaring. The last thing he liked during his first minutes at a crime scene was the detective, who wasn't a witness, telling him exactly how the crime happened. Vega was more prone to it than others and he wished by now he'd catch on that it pissed him off. "We'll keep you posted."
Catherine shook her head as she stood staring at the handsome dead man. "What a waste."
"It usually is." Grissom snapped on his gloves.
"We won't find anything."
"How pessimistic of you."
"It's a professional job, and a guy like Campbell only hires the best."
Shining the beam of his flashlight on the bullet hole, Grissom said, "Even the best people have off days."
"Are you speaking from personal experience, Master?"
"Yes." Leaving Greg alone in a basement with a psycho came to mind.
"We've got less than five hours until our meeting downtown."
"We can wrap this up in four."
"Because we won't find anything."
"No." Grissom clicked off his flashlight. "Because we're pros, and we're the best. I'll take the bed, you take the room."
"Look who's full of himself?" Catherine set out to complete her task. "Did Mrs. Grissom make you feel like a million bucks this morning?"
"Just being married to her makes me feel like a million bucks."
"Sorry, I'm late," David announced from the doorway. "The wife and I were at the hospital all night on a false alarm."
"That's right," Catherine remarked after snapping a picture. "Your baby's due any day now."
Gil wished he could say the same.
"Yeah," David hurried to set up. "I could get paged any minute."
"That's interesting," Gil commented in a whimsical tone. "Handling the dead one minute and watching your baby being born the next. The Circle of Life played out before your eyes. I hope I'm with a DB when Sara goes into labor. I think it will make it more meaningful."
Catherine chuckled, "Yes, David, the Master Criminalist is in a really weird mood."
"Guess what!" Nick yelled as he huffed into the bedroom. Although it wasn't his shift, when he heard who the vic was, he clocked in and came along for the ride. "Surprise, surprise…no surveillance video for the VIP elevator or floors between the hours of ten and ten forty-five last night, which I'll take a wild guess and say it will end up bein' our TOD window. They're blamin' a computer glitch. The manager even showed me a work ticket to get it fixed. That's some real nice ass covering if you ask me. Bruce Campbell's goons are a lot better at this shit than Sam Braun's, no offense, Cath."
"None taken, since you've got the scar to back up your claim."
"CSI Stokes…" Gil chided him with his tone.
"Yeah, right, let's not jump to conclusions until we see all the evidence…whatever…I'm friggin' pissed off!" When he looked at Charlie's dead body for the first time his rage grew. "I spent hours with that guy yesterday and he didn't deserve this. Sure he was playboy and probably an asshole, but he didn't kill Nina and vigilante justice, especially when you've got the wrong guy, is unacceptable. We were doin' our jobs. Hell, we got the killer in less than twenty-four hours! Campbell couldn't wait though. Nah, he had to use his money and muscle to get justice. He makes me sick."
"But how do you really feel, Nicky?" Catherine patted his shoulder. "You better find a way to chill out before you get to the Sheriff's office later."
"I'll chill out best if I can find somethin' in this room to nail the bastard who did this, because this guy was Greg's friend and if he were here, he'd be pissed."
Gil stopped snapping photos. "Wasn't Charlie the guy who slipped him GHB so Becca could have her way with him?"
"Yeah, but all of Greg's friends are a little messed up," Nick snapped, "me included, so I'll cut him some slack, especially since he's a corpse." He pulled on gloves. "Tell me what you want me to do."
BPAC – Drew's Office
11:08 a.m.
"I have one more addition for the site plan." From her new Target tote bag, Carrie pulled a proposal. "It's called 'My Sister's Closet'. It's separate from the used clothing area. It's where women will get to pick out a couple of conservative outfits and shoes to wear on job interviews or to court appearances for custody hearings for example. Like Sara has the library and the kennel, and Nicky the recreation center, this will be my pet project. I'll personally finance the start up and be responsible for securing donations going forward." All her Ebay auction money would be earmarked for the venture and she was hoping to convince Becca to partner with her.
"I bet Liss could donate a bunch of old stuff, because as soon as the style is out, she's done wearin' it."
"It might be a bit awkward to wear Versace on a McDonald's interview, but maybe some of her tamer stuff will work."
"Excuse me." Linda walked in the office holding a gift-wrapped box with balloons attached. "This just arrived from your fiancée, Ms. Blake."
Drew smiled approvingly at his brother's gesture. "I'd like to believe that's sinful lingerie, but knowin' Nicky, it's probably a fishin' vest and an invitation to go campin' this weekend. Hey! Where are you goin', Carrie?"
"You don't expect me to open it with the two of you watching, do you?" Taking her present, she darted out of Drew's office and into hers, shutting the door behind her. "I guess this is why you wanted to know if I would be at BPAC this morning. Very sneaky, Tex." When she saw the words 'Christian Louboutin' she burst into a fit of giggles. "You did not buy me shoes!" Believing he was tricking her, she grabbed the lid and tossed it.
Sitting on top of the tissue paper was a hand written note. 'Congratulations on solving your first case, Super Sleuth. I wanted to get you something that was 'fitting'. "Aww!" When she opened the tissue paper there was a second note sitting on top of the beautiful designer shoes. 'Red, because I love you. Serpents, because you beguiled me last night. I hope they're a perfect fit, Darlin', just like you are for me.'
"I love you! I love you! I love you!" she squealed as she kicked off the conservative beige kitten-heel pumps she had picked to wear with a stuffy tweed court suit to the Sheriff's meeting. "Ooh, they feel sooooo good!"
Before calling her man to thank him for the romantic and thoughtful gesture, she rushed to the door and flung it open. "Take a look at my new fishing vest, Drew!" she yelled, in front of Linda the Office Manager and Davis the resident computer geek. Strutting into her future brother-in-law's office like a runway model she celebrated, "Oh, yeah, my man bought me sexy red designer shoes and he wrote a beautiful note too! Ha! He's the perfect man…smart, handsome, romantic, adventurous, funny, sensitive…and loyal."
For the third time in an hour, Linda wanted to kill the lucky bitch.
"I stand corrected," Drew laughed as he stood to appreciate the view of his future sister-in-law's sexy calves in the sinful bedroom shoes. "Very nice indeed, but I think they're more for my brother to enjoy than you."
"Hey! Are you checking me out?" She covered her chest even though he was staring at her legs.
"Don't blame me! You're the one who came slinkin' in here like a panther askin' me to look at you." Retaking his seat, Drew chuckled at the prude, "Don't worry, I promise not to stare at your ass when you leave."
Just to be sure, Carrie walked backwards.
The Royale Hotel and Casino - Charlie's Room
12:56 p.m.
After Retracing Charlie's steps and combing ever inch of the suite, the three CSIs stepped into the VIP elevator feeling defeated.
"That's twenty you owe me." Catherine opened her palm and waited for Gil to slap her winnings in it. "Because just as I predicted, we found squat."
Without opening his wallet Gil said, "I didn't have a chance to hit the ATM this morning, so when Nicky loses twenty to me in the Sheriff's office later, he can just pay you instead."
After pondering about the mystery meeting invitation all morning, Nick had returned to optimism. "I think you're gonna owe me, Gris. Why else would the Sheriff have Carrie be there and be secretive if I wasn't getting an award? Now that she's not with the DA's office, she wouldn't be included in case stuff."
"That is a good point." Catherine checked her watch. "Hey, do you guys want to grab a quick bite in the food court here before we head back to the lab to change clothes for the meeting?"
When the doors opened, Gil queried, "What would your father say about you giving his enemy your business?"
"Speaking of Bruce Campbell," Nick pointed, "there's the bastard now."
"Let me do the talking, Nicky." Anxious to confront the man, Gil hurried to intercept him. "Mr. Campbell! I thought you'd like to know we have a man in custody being charged with your daughter's murder." As expected, a momentary look of surprise crossed the guilty man's face.
"The Dwyer fellow, right?" Bruce replied, while masking his shock. "The one Celine identified."
"No, we found evidence that he had been drugged at the party. That's why he was passed out in your daughter's bathroom during the time of her murder. He had nothing to do with your daughter's untimely death."
"You haven't heard what happened to poor Charlie?" Forgetting Grissom's request, Nick pointed toward the entrance. "All those police cars out there are here in response to a homicide in one of your suites, Charlie Dwyer's suite to be exact. Since you're the hotel's owner, you need to know that he was executed here last night."
"Forgive me, I was too busy trying to prevent Celine from going into some filthy foster care home to know what was going on here." At six foot-five, Bruce loomed over the accusatory CSI. "I assure you that everyone here at The Royale will cooperate in the investigation because the safety of our guests is paramount."
Flashing his best good boy smile, Nick replied, "Yeah, they were real cooperative in the security center when they were explainin' why crucial surveillance video during the time of death window was the only tape not available from the entire day."
"If you have something to say, Mr. Stokes, be a man and say it directly to my face."
"Okay, then…"
"Stop right there!" Gil snapped, having let the confrontation go on long enough. "If you'll excuse us, Mr. Campbell, we were on our way to a meeting. Thank you for your time." Like a frustrated father, he placed his hand on Nick's neck and guided him through the lobby and out the front door. "What the hell!"
"Sorry." Nick huffed towards their Denali. "You saw the look on his face, he's guilty as hell."
"All the more reason not to jeopardize the case we can build against him."
"As if." Opening the passenger door for the lady in the group, Nick laughed riotously. "Guys like Campbell and Braun never serve time for what they do. They buy or lie their way out of everything. Isn't that right, Cath?"
Knowing it was true about her father she sighed, "I plead the fifth."
"That's a yes." Slipping into the back of the truck he said, "I bet if you ask your wealthy father, Gris, he'll tell you it's true. You can get out of anything if you're rich and powerful enough."
Sheriff Burdick's Office
1:40 p.m.
Watching the stunned man stare at the wealth of incriminating photos he had splayed on the table, Don Schultz very confidently demanded, "I expect full cooperation at this meeting today and your support in any future meetings with the DA and the Judge regarding Mike's case."
"You're blackmailing me?"
"No, I'm extending you a courtesy. You're an elected official, Sheriff, the public has a right to know if you're engaging in prostitution with boys, which isn't only disgusting, but illegal here in Clark County. I, however, am not under obligation to inform the public that the man they elected to uphold the law is breaking it. However, I could become compelled to do just that if you demonstrate behavior that makes me think the taxpayers would be better off without you in office." Rising from his chair, he said, "On the other hand, if you convince me that I'm better off with you in office, then I'll have no reason to go public. Do we have an understanding?"
"Since you've got me by the balls, I don't see that I have a choice."
"That's funny, because if you look at photo number seventeen, you'll see that it's your very young companion who has you by the balls." Loving every minute of the warm up exercise, Don laughed, "Here's the good news, I'm going to keep this between you and me, but you get to hear all the dirt I have on everyone else. Doesn't that sound fun?"
"I can't wait," Burdick droned, hoping one of the CSIs would get pissed after the meeting and kill the bastard, expertly disposing the body.
At the door, the giddy attorney announced, "I'm heading to Starbucks for a triple shot so you have privacy when briefing the troops on my requirements. I'll be back at ten minutes after the hour to kick off the fun."
Since Starbucks was across the street, he prayed the son of a bitch would get nailed by a city bus.
"You're hoping I get hit by a bus, aren't you?" Don snickered, "Sorry, I plan to exercise extreme caution crossing the street, because I wouldn't want to miss this for the world."
The Four Seasons Maui
10:53 a.m. HST
As Tawny helped him to the bathroom, Greg weakly said, "I'm so bummed we had to miss the waterfall walk. If I'm not better for the pineapple tour tomorrow, promise me you'll go without me, because I know how much you've been looking forward to it and we promised everyone we'd ship them pineapples."
"I'm sure you'll be fine this time tomorrow because you puked everything out before it had a chance to wreak havoc on your intestines."
"Thank God, because massive diarrhea is serious honeymoon buzzkill." Standing in front of the toilet, he said, "Okay, I've got it from here."
"Right, like I'm leaving you alone when you're still dizzy from dehydration. If you crack open your head again, they'll think I'm beating you up in here. Since when are you shy anyway?" Tawny stood behind him with her hands on his hips. "You had to help me to the bathroom when I was in the hospital, remember? Now we'll be even."
Sheriff Burdick's Office
1:56 p.m.
"This feels so odd coming here with you," Nick remarked walking down the corridor holding Carrie's hand. "Do I look okay?"
"You look tense." Straightening the tie she had bought him over the weekend just for the meeting, the nervous fiancée said, "Relax, it can't be an ass chewing because it would be highly inappropriate to invite me to watch your ass getting chewed. If that's the case, then we'll sue for misconduct."
"You're right," he breathed out hard. "It can't be bad."
Turning the corner, Sara greeted her co-worker, "Ready to get your ass chewed?"
"What I'm ready for, is for the suspense to be over."
"You look great, Sara!" Carrie had never seen her so businesslike. "Is that your lucky court suit?"
"Thanks, yes it is. You look professional as usual." Then Sara turned and smiled at her husband. "He'll never admit it, but Gil has his lucky suit on too."
"I don't need a lucky suit in the courtroom, because I'm that good," Catherine remarked as she joined the group with Jim at her side. "I just show cleavage to make sure I get my way."
Brass pocketed his sunglasses, "I find I get luckiest when I'm wearing my birthday suit."
When Sofia rushed around the corner, breathless from trying not to be late, she saw everyone laughing. "I thought we were here to get our asses chewed. Why are you all so happy?"
"Nervous tension," Nick replied, while remembering not to comment on his ex's appearance in front of his fiancée. "You're the last one, so we can go on in now." They agreed to meet in the corridor and make a group entrance.
"I love that suit on you, Sofia," Carrie told her friend as they strolled down the hall.
"Thank you." Your fiancé loved taking it off me once. "Great shoes as always."
"Thanks. Nicky surprised me with some new ones this morning in honor of cracking the case yesterday, but I didn't think four-inch red silk sandals were appropriate for meeting the Sheriff." Ooh, I hope that didn't sound like I was being catty with Nicky's ex.
Catherine smiled proudly at Carrie's catty remark. "I'm sure he intended for you to wear them privately tonight in the bedroom, not for the Sheriff."
"Oh look!" Nick pointed at Burdick's door. "We're here, so we can stop talkin'." The last thing he wanted to do was talking about his sex life in this mixed company.
"Double or nothing, Nicky," Gil taunted, feeling more confident than ever it wouldn't be good news.
"You're on, Gris."
As the others went ahead, Carrie whispered in her man's ear, "On the off chance it is something bad, I'll be right next to you and you can squeeze my hand under the table if you need to."
"Thanks, Sweetheart." He winked. "I'm sure I'll be fine."
"You can go right into the conference room directly off the Sheriff's office," the secretary curtly informed the group while trying to figure out why her boss hadn't given her any information on the meeting other than that it would be taking place.
The chilly vibe from the secretary made Sara certain she'd be collecting money from Nick this afternoon along with her husband.
"Good afternoon, Sheriff Burdick." As usual, Jim took the lead, acting as intermediary between his boss and his employees. "We're all here."
After surveying the well-dressed group, Burdick snipped, "Where's Sanders?"
Nick immediately gave the explanation he and Jim had concocted, "Sir, he's on a mandated mental health break per his psychiatrist. After his trauma in the basement with Tucker Mifflin, which, as you may recall, resulted from inadequate police presence at the scene, he needed a little time to regroup from his intense therapy sessions. Per section twelve-seventeen of the department manual, I couldn't deny him the time if it was part of his counseling recovery plan. If there's something we can't answer on his behalf, I promise to get it from him as soon as he returns."
Snatching Greg's place card off the conference table, Burdick snipped, "Fine, but you should have told me in advance. Please take your assigned seats."
Trying to ease the tension in the room, Jim pulled out Carrie's chair. "Lucky me, I get to sit on the same side as Sara and our civilian guest. Sheriff Burdick, you remember Carrie Blake, formerly of the DA's office, right?" You friggin' ill-mannered bastard.
"I apologize for my lack of manners," Burdick said while crossing the room to extend his hand. "Ms. Blake, thank you for coming, I wish it could be under better circumstances."
Oh, shit. In that moment, Nick realized two things…he wouldn't be getting an award and he was designated to sit directly across from Carrie at the u-shaped table, so an emergency 'supportive hand squeeze' wouldn't be possible. Dammit. Since he believed it would be highly inappropriate to ask to switch and sit next to his girl, he trudged around the table to his designated place between Sofia, who was at the top of the U, and Grissom.
Standing in the center of the U, Burdick warmed the stage for Schultz, who he sincerely hoped was having a fatal heart attack at that moment. "This meeting is confidential. Everything said here is to stay in this room. Ms. Blake, although you don't work for me, I'm hoping you'll cooperate for the sake of your fiancé."
Like any good lawyer would, Carrie didn't make any promises. "It's hard to know how I'll feel when I don't know why we're meeting with you."
"You're not meeting with me. That's why I have a place at the table right there between Catherine and the MIA Greg Sanders." Breathing in, he focused on the blackmail and announced, "You're meeting with Don Schultz, Mike Rodgers attorney."
"What?" Gil watched his wife's body tense before his eyes. "I don't understand. Why?"
The mere mention of her almost-killer's name made every hair on Sara's neck raise.
"Mr. Schultz is calling this a courtesy meeting," the Sheriff explained. "He has information to share with us privately and the more cooperative we are during the meeting, the more generous he'll be to us when interacting with the DA and Judge Kent, who as you may recall, resided over the Rodgers hearing."
Wearing her attorney hat, Carrie protested, "We can't discuss the details of the appeal with Mr. Schultz when…"
"He's hasn't filed an appeal, Ms. Blake. He's asked for his client to be exonerated."
"What!" Nick blasted, taking the statement as a personal attack on his work. "On what grounds? This is bullshit, there were no mistakes during the case. None." Then he saw Jim, Carrie and Sara all staring at him, willing him to shut up and stay calm.
"I'll let that slide, Mr. Stokes, as I know you pride yourself in your work." Burdick walked around the table and stood behind his assigned seat at the bottom middle of the U. "What I'm about to say applies to everyone, except you, Ms. Blake, but again, I urge you to cooperate for your fiancé's sake. Schultz agreed to share his information on the condition that everyone here remains in the room until he is finished speaking. I'm in the dark about what he's going to say just as much as you are, but I know it's not going to be good, which means I'm sure you'll get royally pissed off. If you walk out the door, you will lose your job for insubordination, no exceptions; that includes you, Gil. There's that much at stake here. I'm not just talking about our asses either. If Schultz decides to pull some kind of exposé, every case you people have touched over the years could come under suspicion. Convicted criminals, the nastiest of the nasty, could end up walking out of prison if the evidence used to convict them is thrown out. Isn't that right, Ms. Blake?"
"Unfortunately, yes," she gulped, suddenly fearing the worst. "When I was working in Seattle, a police officer tampered with evidence in a case that involved his girlfriend's cousin. Every crime scene investigation he had been at over the course of his two years with the department was scrutinized. Fourteen convicted criminals were eventually exonerated on the grounds of evidence tampering and/or contamination. It's the type of thing that gets very ugly, very quickly as attorneys jump on the bandwagon trying to get their clients off. Needless to say, it was a publicity nightmare. To make matters worse, one of the exonerated men raped and murdered a teenage girl two days after being released."
Trusting her opinion, Jim asked Carrie, "So, you agree that no matter how painful this process might be, it's in our best interest to sit here like targets and see what this windbag has to say?"
"Absolutely. The fact that he's telling us instead of letting us find out on the six o'clock news means there's something in it for him." She stared at her fiancé, willing him to keep his cool. "We need to stay calm, let him do all the talking, and try our best not to piss him off. We don't want to give him information, but let's try to get as much as we can. Only answer the questions he asks, and keep the answers simple. If it's something that will incriminate you, then you know what to do."
"Okay, then, that's our plan." Jim stared at his boss, who he had never seen sweat until then. "What the hell does Schultz have on you?"
"Enough, but I have a feeling he has a hell of a lot more on some of you." Burdick took his seat checking his watch. "Okay people, put your game faces on, he should be here any minute."
Without asking permission, Jim stood and walked over to the supply area in the corner of the room. "I don't know about you guys, but I was always wanted to know how the passengers of the Titanic felt as they were sitting around waiting to drown. Just as I suspected, it feels pretty shitty." When he opened the cabinet doors, he was relieved to see a box of thick rubber bands. "Perfect."
"What are you doin', Boss?" Nick asked as his stomach churned and twisted.
"Throwing everyone a life preserver."
Grissom was quick to point out, "Life preservers didn't help the majority of the Titanic's passengers, they only prolonged their suffering as they froze to death in the water, rather than drowning quickly."
"Thanks, for that pep-talk, Gil." Rolling his eyes, Jim handed out rubber bands anyway. "In case of emergency, reach down and snap it to remind yourself not to go off the deep end. It also doubles as a sign of solidarity."
Catherine gladly accepted one. "Open the window blinds so we can see the rain falling. It will prop the drowning theme."
"It's raining?" Sofia exclaimed. "It wasn't when I parked my car."
"I heard it hitting the canopies."
"She's right."
After Jim raised the blinds, Sara watched as the drops hit the glass windows of the office building. "Do you think Don Schultz controls the weather?"
"No," Gil answered, "but I have a feeling he'll be raining on our parade very effectively."
"Lawyers are creeps," Burdick huffed, wishing he had passed up the opportunity to screw the boy in the photos when he had the chance. "Sorry, Ms. Blake, I'm sure you're the exception."
"I…"
"Good afternoon, everyone!" Don breezed into the room like he didn't have a care in the world. "Thank you all for coming."
"Iceberg," Jim coughed into his fist, continuing his homage to the ill-fated ship. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Schultz, we're all curious to hear what you have to say." Let the ill-fated voyage begin.
Author's Notes
Alas, Good Time Charlie's party days are over, and the Nina Campbell murder will continue to cause trouble while Mike's lawyer does the same in the meeting room. However, thanks to Vartann, Vega and Warrick working the case on the outside, as well as Catherine and Brass in the meeting, there are some nice moments of levity in chapters 6-8 (the meeting chapters).
I hoped you enjoyed this chapter's fluffy moments before the tension started to rise!
Thanks to KJT for her top notch consulting and editing services!
Next Chapter: Meeting time! Posting: Thursday, July 13th
Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts on the chapter,
Maggs