Chapter 3

Grissom entered the interview room and sat down across from Kevin. He was grateful that Brass didn't even raise an eyebrow to see him there. Kevin wasn't so calm about it. He grinned.

"Where's the other guy? Get scared?"

Grissom moved past the question. Nick wasn't this man's concern. "I'm CSI Gil Grissom," Grissom told him as he quickly scanned the files. "Kevin, tell me, why were you packing to leave town two days after you filed a missing person's report on your wife?"

"Like I keep telling everyone, I had a business trip."

"And it couldn't be rescheduled? It took precedence of your missing wife whom you were married to for eight years?"

Kevin smiled, nodding. "Yeah. It did. Was I arrested for wanting to keep my job?"

"You're not under arrest," Brass reminded him. "Yet."

"You don't appear too upset about your wife's death," Grissom observed.

Kevin shot back, "Real men don't cry."

"Oh. I understand you believed your wife left you for her lover and that's why you didn't file the report within twenty-four hours of her disappearance."

"Yeah. That's right."

"So the last time you saw her, she was alive? Was that before or after she was buried alive?"

"Is that how she was found? Alive?"

Grissom smiled. "Buried, not alive. But I'm sure you already knew that. Didn't you?"

"Someone told me that."

"Since you've only spoken to five people within the department, and I doubt any of them told you, I'm curious who this someone might be. Perhaps the person that killed your wife?"

Kevin smirked. "Perhaps."

"So then give me the person's name."

Kevin shook his head.

"So you're conspiring with the person?"

"No!"

"If you don't give us your accomplice's name, then you're conspiring," Brass told him. "Just as good as killing her yourself."

Kevin shook his head, looking away. "You have no proof I was involved."

"He's right," Brass said to Grissom. "I guess we'll just have to get him on harboring a suspect and obstruction of justice."

"Those carry hefty charges," Grissom told Brass. "Either way, he'll be in jail for a while. We'll have time to search his house and vehicle."

"Maybe we'll post it in the paper. Get some attention on him. I'm sure his friends and co-workers, family maybe, will like to know how it happened." Brass leaned on the table. "So did you watch or did you help this person nail the lid shut?"

"I think he thought of the ants. He is an exterminator," Grissom told Brass.

"Really?" Brass asked Grissom. "Why ants?"

"You know, I really don't know," Grissom lied, playing the 'dumb cop' card. "They don't do much damage."

"That's not true," Kevin snapped.

Grissom looked at him. "It's not?"

"They can clean a carcass in minutes."

"Really?" Brass asked. "I didn't know that. So they must have been on the property when your wife was buried alive."

"Unless someone placed them there, but that seems risky," Grissom told Brass. "These aren't your ordinary ants; these things seem a lot more aggressive and dangerous. I don't think anyone would be daring enough to handle them."

"If you know what you're doing, you can safely move an entire colony," Kevin told Grissom.

"Can you?"

Kevin leaned on the table. "See, the trick is stunning them and knowing where the queens are. You get the queens first and a lot of workers. If you leave the larvae behind or crush about a dozen or so, they go into this frenzy and attack anything."

"Like a gardener that happened upon them?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. I guess that guy just had bad luck."

"And your wife? How did you get the ants on her? I imagine it would have been hard with her struggling?"

"That was easy! She was out when I put her in the ground, and then I buried her with the pipes, poured the ants down the pipes, and pulled the pipes out. She was screaming like you would not believe before…" Kevin stopped. He slowly sat back. "I mean… I imagine she was screaming before…"

Grissom smiled, leaning on the table. "Please. Continue. I was enjoying the education."

Kevin looked down, shaking his head. "Naw. You ain't pinning this on me. I didn't kill her."

Grissom smiled. "But Mister Montrèsor, don't fire ants cause pustules when they bite. Like the ones that are covering your arms and face?"

"You son of a bitch!" Kevin spat. "You tricked me!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You knew all that stuff about fire ants all along. You just wanted me to confess to killing my wife!"

"Did you kill your wife?"

"Yeah! She was a homo bitch!"

Almost instantly Kevin realized he had said too much, but this time there was no taking it back.

"Thank you Kevin." Grissom closed the folder and stood. "He's all yours, Jim."

Grissom left the room, feeling satisfied. He was going to be able to tell Nick his victim's killer was identified and would pay for what he'd done. He wouldn't escape like Walter Gordon had.

#

The minute he hit the door, the entire bar started welcoming Nick. He smiled, laughed, passed out hugs and a few kisses to women, handshakes to men. Warm, caring Nick had returned, marked by only a few red dots where the vanished pustules were still healing.

Warrick and Greg trailed in behind him.

"You just had to let him pick the bar tonight, didn't you?" Greg yelled over the music.

Warrick smiled. "Hey, I'll suffer a night at some hick bar if it means Nick'll come to work in a good mood in two days. Wouldn't you?"

Greg thought about that a moment. "Is that a trick question?"

Warrick laughed.

Nick suddenly emerged from the crowd in front of them. "There's a table over there." Nick pointed them in the direction. "I gotta a rain check I gotta pay up on."

"With who?" Warrick asked.

Nick pointed over his shoulder at a red head in a tight tank top, jeans, and cowboy boots. Everything about her curves was a head turner. Warrick and Greg both smiled.

"Gillian. She's been asking me to dance with her for weeks."

"You want us to order you anything?"

"Naw! I'll get something when I come over." Nick disappeared into the crowd with Gillian.

Warrick and Greg made their way to a table and sat down on tall bar stools. Greg leaned over the table.

"Have you ever seen Nick in a mood like he was in?"

"Yeah. Back when we were rookies. The first time it happened, we damn near got into a fight at a crime scene. I finally got tired of it and called up his oldest brother up – Nick does whatever James tells him to so I was hoping he'd talk some sense into Nicky. Instead he tells me that not even God himself could bring Nick out of these moods. He said it only happened when something got a hold of him in the wrong way, and only he could figure out how to get free from it. But when he did, he told me to take him to a country bar and let him dance till he dropped, or hire him a hooker for the night. The bar's cheaper!"

Greg laughed.

"Hey, are you two Warrick and Greg?"

The two turned, staring at the women watching them. One was a blonde and average. She wore a western cut shirt with rhinestones and silver studs, a miniskirt and boots. Her friend was a tall African-American, flawless smooth skin, long curly hair, a midriff tank top, and tight blue jeans revealing her long legs that ended in pearl white boots.

"Yeah," Greg and Warrick answered.

"Nick said you two don't know how to do the Cotton Eyed Joe," the blonde said. "He asked if we'd teach you. It's the next song."

"What's the Cotton Eyed Joe?" Greg asked.

Warrick reached over and smacked the back of his head. "Say yes to the lady."

"I mean yes," Greg said with a smile.

Warrick slid off the stool and held out his arm. The dark woman slid her arm into his and they disappeared. Greg waited until Warrick disappeared.

"You know Nick Stokes?" Greg asked the blond.

"Honey, everyone here knows Nick Stokes," she answered with a smile. "All the guys wish they were him, all the girls wish they were his. You coming?"

"Right behind you."

She led him to the dance floor as the Cotton Eyed Joe started.