CSI: Ghost: Chapter 6

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to review!

Greg met O'Reilly at Ben Liffan's office just outside the front door. Looking in through the glass door he couldn't see anything that looked out of place.

"Hey, Greg," O'Reilly greeted.

"What've we got?" he asked the detective, nodding his own greeting.

"One dead body in the back office. Slumped over his desk. The night cleaning crew found him."

"Any ID?"

"Ben Liffan."

Greg looked up at the sign above the door. "Where's Black then?"

"Died. Just a few months ago. A heart attack. But we've got the secretary on her way in now. Jane Griffith. I'll let you know what she says."

"Sure."

He pulled out his flashlight and pushed open the unlocked door, giving the floor a sweep of the light as he walked inside. Slowly, he made his way over to Jane's desk. He scanned the neat desk, noting that everything was where it was supposed to be. Not even a pen was out of place. He moved on to the first closed door, for the moment ignoring the light in the office at the end of the hallway. The first door lead to the bathroom. He dusted it for finger prints, lifted them away with tape, and opened the door. Nothing inside suggested foul play cleaned up. Everything looked spotless. But it figured. With only one lawyer and one secretary using the facilities along with the occasional client, of course the place would be relatively clean. There were no cleaning supplies under the sink either, so unless the killer had cleaned up after himself and took the supplies with him, he hadn't even been in here.

Greg backed out of the bathroom and went across the hall to the other closed door. Inside he found the office of the previously dead lawyer. Boxes littered the floor, and the desk looked very haphazard. Greg theorized, maybe the killer needed some information from his dead lawyer that he didn't want falling into the hands of someone else. And Liffan just happened to be there. But that made no sense. Tim Black had died several months ago. Why wait this long to get the information? No, what had happened in this room was someone cleaning up the place after the dead lawyer's departure from the world.

Leaving Black's office he moved to the last doorway where the light shone through. Standing in the doorway he looked over the primary crime scene. The lawyer had a single gun shot to the forehead, and blood had dripped onto the papers on his desk. On the beige carpet Greg noticed a spot of blood that had been stepped in. He moved and saw a fainter identical transfer of the drop closer to the door. He snapped off a few pictures of the two drops before getting a few of the dead lawyer.

Carefully walking around the blood spatter and transfer on the carpet he walked around the desk and peered over Liffan's shoulder. A name on the top sheet covered in blood spatter caught his eye and he looked closer. His eyes widened as he reached for his cell phone.

"He's just up the next block," Brass said as he, Detective Omar from the LAPD, and Nick Sanders-Stokes (officially only Stokes while on the job) hoofed it up the steep incline of the street.

"So, how did you find him?" Nick asked the Captain.

"Ah, he's never home, so I had the black and whites keep an eye out for his limo. One of them spotted it and pulled it over. He should be waiting for us when we get there.

Nick's cell phone started to ring.

"Stokes," he answered, wishing for the millionth time since he and Greg had gotten married that he could answer his work phone with their hyphenated names together.

"Hey, it's Greg. Got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Have you talked to The Devil yet?"

"Nope. Just getting there though. Why?"

"You might want to ask him what his lawyer's doing with a bullet in his brain."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I kid, Nick?"

"No. No, you don't. So what you're saying is that the cases are connected?"

"Yup. Looks that way. I'm looking at a bloody sheet of paper here says Ben Liffan was stealing money out from under The Devil's nose for quite some time. What do you suppose he learned about it recently and wanted to get back at him for it?"

"It's possible. Well, look, we're almost to this guy's doorstep. I'll give you a call when we're done and help you process the scene."

"Don't worry about it. This won't take long. I'll meet you back at the lab."

"Sure thing."

When Nick hung up he told the other two what Greg had said. They nodded and seemed to be mulling it over when they reached the limo. Brass knocked on the back side window and the door opened for them, revealing a well dressed man, a little over weight with a small beard.

"Well if it isn't Tony Biggs, aka 'The Devil', how're you doing?" Brass asked. "You gonna let us in?"

"Yeah, not like I got much choice in the matter. What's with you guys pulling me over like this? Huh?" The Devil asked.

Captain Brass, Detective Omar, and Nick Stokes climbed into the back of the limo with the crime boss. Nick closed the door after him.

"So, Biggs, what can you tell me about John Winters?" Brass asked in a non-assuming tone.

"What about him?"

"Did he steal money from you? Perhaps drugs too? Maybe some weapons?"

"Yeah he stole from me! Drugs and money. Say, there wouldn't happen to be a chance I can get that back, would there?"

"Um, no. I'm terribly sorry."

"Then what are you here for, if you're not here to give me my money back?"

"We were wondering if you knew what happened to Winters. You know, where he is?"

"How the hell should I know? If I did, don't you think I wouldn't be asking you about my money that he stole?"

"Yes, exactly. Because something's happened to him."

"What do you mean?! I'll never see that money again? Damn! That rat scumbag! I knew he was bad news. I knew it! Why did I listen to him?! Why?" Tony Biggs seemed to berate himself for his foolish choices, but to Nick, it was just an act.

"So, you don't know how he died? You didn't have a hand in it?" Nick asked.

"Hey! They guy owed me money! Why would I knock him off before he gave it back?"

"Maybe because you knew he wouldn't give it back?" Detective Omar suggested. "And besides, you've got how much money in your accounts?"

"Oh, but that's right," Nick jumped in. "You were losing several grand a month from your lawyer. Several grand more than you were paying him."

"What?" Tony made a big show of looking confused.

"Your lawyer, Ben Liffan, was stealing from you. You didn't know that?"

"What the hell?! My lawyer?! How do you know that?"

"He was killed. Same way Winters was. And his records show an increase in money on his end with a decrease on yours. Care to explain that?"

"Huh? What? Did you catch him and figure you'd just pop him in the head and be done with it?" Brass asked.

"This is just pure coincidence. I would never have killed him and let the body lay in plain sight! I'm not that dumb. Besides, I'm not dumb enough if I wanted someone dead, to go and kill them myself. Someone else killed these men, and the only thing you have on them is a link to me. That's pretty pathetic, if you ask me. I mean, come on, surely you must know that there's a list of people, a whole list, who would want Winters dead. He took off with everyone's money! And don't get me started on Liffan. He was a crappy lawyer."

"So, you're one of the biggest crime bosses in this city, yet, you pay crappy lawyers for their time and dealings, and you employ a drug dealer who steals people's money. Why would you do that?"

"Hey, I didn't know Winters would steal my money and the drugs until after I'd hired him. That's when I started hearing all the stories. I've known for a little while what a crappy lawyer Liffan was, and I was planning on dumping him as soon as I could hire a replacement. But I didn't know he was stealing my money!"

"Hey Bobby, did you get that bullet I left for you earlier?" Greg asked after knocking on the ballistics tech's door.

"Oh, hey Greg. Yeah, I did. And it was a match to the one found in the first victim, John Winters."

"Thanks. That's just what I needed to hear."

"Well, you're welcome."

Greg turned to leave, but changed his mind at the last moment. He faced Bobby again. "You know, I'm real sorry for freaking out the other day. I didn't mean to. It's a long story, I can't really tell anyone."

"Don't worry about it. I completely understand. And I never, and don't intend, on telling anyone."

"Thanks Bobby D. That means a lot."

Bobby just smiled and he left the lab on the hunt for his husband.

Just as Greg reached the layout room where the two detectives were looking at the evidence along with Nick, his cell phone rang.

"Sanders," he answered, stopping in the doorway.

Nick looked up from the table to see Greg and smiled.

"Oh! Thank God I reached you!" Greg snapped to attention at the frantic woman's voice on the other end of the line.

"Mom? Is everything ok?" He moved from the doorway back out into the hall, away from the detectives who didn't need to hear the private conversation.

"No! Everything is not ok!" Jillian Stokes nearly screamed. "I can't get a hold of Nicky! I know he's at work. I called his work phone like, ten times! And then I called his personal cell ten more times and he still isn't answering or calling me back! Please tell me he's ok! Greg, I don't want anything else to happen to my boy, you know what he's been through on the job!"

Staring at the floor Greg felt shivers running through his spine. The same shivers he'd had for over a week during and after Nick's rescue from the grave. A few seconds later he felt a light, comforting hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Nick standing beside him. He shook his head at his husband, motioning for him to go back to work that he had everything covered.

"Yes, Mom. I know. I know. Trust me, Nick is just fine."

Nick raised his eyebrows to ask if he was sure and he nodded. Nick got up and went back to the layout room.

Jillian sighed. "Oh, thank you!" she sounded tired now.

"What did you want to tell him? I'll pass the message along and he'll call you when he gets home. You know you're not supposed to call either of us on our work cells unless it's an emergency."

"It was an emergency!" the franticness in her voice returned for a brief moment before she calmed down again. "I'm sorry, Greggy. I was just wanting to know when you'd be down for Christmas. Have you figured it out yet?"

This time it was Greg's turn to sigh. "No. We don't know yet. I'll talk to the boss after shift and see what he says. But I can't guarantee anything Mom. This case we're working on is huge. We might be stuck working through Christmas this year."

"Oh, not again! You had to do that the year before last, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. Look, I've gotta go. I'm at work, remember? I'll have Nicky call you when we get home. Ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Mrs. Stokes sounded a little defeated as she hung up the phone.

Greg went back to the layout room and saw the cell phone attached to his husband's hip.

"Everything ok?" Nick asked. "That was Mom?"

"Yeah."

"I'm beginning to think she likes you more than me. When was the last time I got to talk to her? So, is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine. But your cell is dead. She called you, probably twenty times between your work number and your personal cell. When she couldn't get you, she thought the worst and called me." Greg did his best to keep cool under the circumstances, especially with Omar and Brass not two feet away listening in when all he wanted to do was scream.

"Oh." Nick took his cell from the belt clip and checked it out. "Battery's dead. Guess we'll have to stop and get a new one on the way home later. Um, so what did she want then?"

"The same thing she wants every year at this time. I told her I'd talk to Griss about it after shift." His cell phone began to ring again. "Well, since yours is out of commission, it's entirely possible this person wants to talk to you, so I might as well take your calls too," Greg said, half jokingly, to keep the tension from his voice.

"So, you two didn't hyphenate or change names or anything?" Greg heard Detective Omar asking Nick as he turned away for a moment to answer his phone.

"Sanders-Stokes," their hyphenated last name came so smoothly to his lips yet it was the last thing he wanted to say. He had to keep his personal life separate from his work life. He could have just as easily said 'Sanders and Stokes'. But no, he'd had to blurt out the hyphenated version.

"Since when do you use that variant to answer your work phone?"

"Since Nick's phone just died. I'm apparently taking his calls too. Sorry boss, the hyphenated version didn't mean to slip out like that."

"No worries, Greg. It happens. Besides, I'm glad. I needed to talk to Nick anyway and hoped you knew where he was."

"We're in the layout room, about to go over the evidence to the case."

"Perfect. That's just where I want you. Give me a few minutes and I'll be there shortly," Grissom said before hanging up.

With his back still facing the other three Greg took a deep breath and did his best to relax before he hung up the phone and turned back to face them.