Disclaimer: Not only do I not own anything related to CSI, I also own nothing about Jeopardy!

Chapter 7

Now, if Grissom seemed nervous, he didn't want to think about it. If anything, he missed Sara. She would get a kick out of this. Before he could think much more, a young woman with a headset poked her head out of the interview room.

"Mr. Grissom? We're ready for you now."

Gil Grissom stood and pressed down his Forensics jacket before he made his way to the door. "Thank you," he said.

Philip Beck rose from his makeshift desk and greeted Grissom warmly, "Mr. Grissom. Nice to meet you, I'm Philip Beck, a producer with Jeopardy! I must say you did quite well on our test."

"Could I have it back?" Grissom asked.

"Excuse me?"

"I'd like to show a friend of mine. He said I couldn't pass the test."

Beck chuckled. "Well, tell your friend Philip Beck, Jeopardy! producer, said you got 48 out of 50 correct. That should suffice, don't you think?"

"Probably not, but it will have to do," Grissom said lightly with a genuine smile.

"Well we're just going to see how comfortable you feel behind a buzzer, and get some background information from you, and that will be it. Sound good?"

"Sure." Grissom stood behind a contestant podium in the mock Jeopardy! set, and put on his glasses. A few questions later, and it was time to sit and chat.

"So, Mr. Grissom, tell me about your background and line of work."

"I'm a criminologist and entomologist for the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I supervise the night shift. I've been there 15 years. I grew up near L.A., near the shore. And my interests in finding dead animals near the surf guided me into an internship and job in the L.A. coroner's office."

Did I just say that? Grissom thought. God, he was tired. Grissom looked at the duo in front of him.

The girl with the headset looked a bit, grossed out. But Beck still looked pleasant.

"Wow," Beck said, impressed. "So I guess you deal with your share of dead bodies and creepy bugs."

"I suppose I do."

For some reason, Beck knew this guy had stories, he just had to get them out. "Well, give me a story about that. Just a story that only Gil Grissom, criminologist and entomologist and co-worker with police and coroners, could produce."

Grissom thought a bit. Should he? Ah, what the hell. He felt a little punchy from being awake for so long.

"Well, there was the time when Dr. Al Robbins, he is our coroner, and I were examining this body that had been in Lake Mead for two weeks. Decomposed, but not yet human soup. Well, Al and I are talking about COD," Grissom received blank stares. "Sorry, COD, cause of death, when we notice this gurgle in the stomach cavity. At first Al and I thought it was gas, but it happened again, so Al went to cut the cavity and then this huge rat just jumps out of the body and across the floor. I would have got him if Al didn't scream like a schoolgirl."

Grissom laughed at the memory, but then he looked at the other two people in the room.

The young woman with the headphones seemed absolutely dumbstruck.

Beck was too, but a smile quickly broke his face.

"Mr. Grissom, that is the best story I've heard in a long time. Give me another one."

How about that? Grissom thought. He liked the story. God, he wished Sara were there.

"Well, my fianceé and I argue about whether or not sitting up with a decaying pig should be considered one of our first dates."

"Seriously?" the young woman asked. "He's going to talk about a dead pig? Is this guy serious?"

"Hold it Amber. I think this might be interesting. Go ahead Mr. Grissom."

"She was stuck on a case and it was important to conduct an experiment on decomposition of a human body and report all the findings. Pig decomposition parallels that of humans, so I thought I would help her case and stake out the dead pig as it decomposed. It was a cold night and she decided to join me and bring me soup and a blanket."

"Hmm. That must have been a treat," Amber said sarcastically.

"Oh, it was," Grissom said, without a hint of sarcasm.

"I bet she's quite a woman," Beck said, warmly.

"Oh, she is," Grissom said.

"I bet, you weirdo." Amber said quietly under her breath. Then she started the spiel. "Mr. Grissom, thanks so much for your time. You will be put on a list where you may or may not be invited to be a contestant on Jeopardy!, and, if so, it probably won't be for several months. You stay on the list for 18 months, and in that time, you will not need to try and qualify for the game."

Beck got up and extended a hand to Grissom. "It was good to meet you, Mr. Grissom. I hope to talk with you again soon."

"I guess we'll see, Mr. Beck. Amber, it was good to meet you." And with that Grissom left.

"Phil," Amber said. "You can't be serious about asking that guy."

"What? I thought he was great."

"Mr. Trebek would not appreciate his 'stories.'"

Oh, what a kiss-ass, Beck thought. "Look," he said as he put papers back in his briefcase. "We have to look at things from viewers' perspectives. That guy has staying power. And he's good looking enough and polite. And it's not like we would run out of tidbits of his life. He dissected animals as a kid, for Christ's sake, and now works to catch bad guys."

"Dissecting animals as a kid makes him sound like a serial killer."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean America won't want to watch him," Beck said. "Amber, I'm just saying Mr. Grissom seems to be a good candidate. And Mr. Trebek loves smart people. He would enjoy Mr. Grissom."

And if he didn't, all the better, Beck thought.

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TBC