About a week went by before we got a case worth working on. Nick, Mike, and I got sent out to the scene. A place had been torched, and a body was found inside. Mike and I arrived a few minutes after Nick, which allowed for him to get an ID on the victim. "The vic is Ross Netty," he told us as we ducked under the police tape. "He spent a couple of years in Jean for domestic assault. Just got parole. Shop foreman said he's only been working here a few days."

Mike shone the beam of his flashlight on the corpse. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire."

"He is a crispy critter. I'd say the point of origin was him."

"He should've stayed in prison," I muttered.

Nick grinned and responded, "Mhm."

Mike looked around and shook his head. "I'm not surprised. This whole place is a fire hazard."

One of the MEs, Dave, came over and asked if he could move the body out. Nick gave him the ok as Mike and I wandered around, assessing the scene. I took out this little gadget that analyzed some of the chemicals in the air and on the ground. "Hey, looks like there was a lot of gasoline over here!" I called. "That explains this V pattern," I said as Mike walked over. "Accelerant. Second point of origin. Likely arson."

Nick came over and snapped a few pictures. "Ex-con, enemies on the outside, 2 points of origin, and 1 dead guy. What are you thinkin'?" he asked Mike.

"I'm thinking we head back to the body," he answered while walking away.

Nick followed and called, "Hey, you know what Grissom would say here, don't you?"

Dave walked by, carrying one end of the stretcher and answered, "Something ironic, I'm sure." Nick grinned goofily and nodded. I laughed to myself and walked past him to catch up to Mike. He was my ride back.

Once back at the lab, Mike and I went down to the morgue to help Doc Robbins and Dave with the autopsy. Mike cut off the vic's shirt and discovered a long line of large staples running down his spine. "Looks like someone took a staple gun to him," he said. Once all the clothing was removed, we found multiple other lines, going down the legs and the torso. Doc Robbins put the body through the x-ray machine. What we saw came as quite a surprise.

Doc pointed at the screen and said, "Those aren't bones."

That was pretty obvious, but what they were definately wasn't. We got the corpse out and back onto the autopsy table. Robbins started to remove the staples. Once he had, he pulled the skin apart where the staples had been holding the pieces together. In place of the spine was a broom handle. He looked up at us. We just stared back at him, as bewildered as he was. I was standing on the same side as Robbins was, so I worked on that leg, and Mike worked on the opposite. Inside mine was a pvc pipe. Mike pulled out what was in his, and the next thing I knew, I was spattered with blood and gore. It was an umbrella and it had opened when he pulled it out. He slowly moved it, so he could look around at me. He winced when he saw all the stuff on me, then looked at the umbrella and said, "That's bad luck, isn't it?"

I smiled at him and said, "I'm going to clean off my face a little, and call Nick. He'll want to see this."

"Ok."

I walked to the sink and cleaned the spatter off my face and goggles. Then, I went outside to call Nick. He arrived within minutes of my call. Once back to the body, Doc Robbins said, "Pvc pipe is sometimes used to replace bones that have been donated for transport."

"So they can show the body in an open casket?" Mike inquired.

Robbins nodded. I was examining the replacement bones, so I asked, "Do they use umbrellas and broom sticks for that too, Doc?"

"Not that I've seen," Robbins chuckled.

"Well, wait a minute," Mike said, "The killer torched the guy, so no open casket. Why stuff the body?"

Nick was looking around at the remainder of the insides of the body. "Looks like the long bones are gone," he said. "The spine, tendons, cartilage, and most major veins."

"They took the heart valves too," Robbins said.

Mike started running through what we knew. "Ok, so, somebody murders an ex-con, and commits arson to make it look like an accident just so they can harvest his bones and tissue?"

"It's a big business. Disc replacement, joint replacement, bypasses. It's in more demand than supply."

"Why leave the kidneys, the heart, and the liver?" I asked. "They're worth big money too."

"Organ donations are heavily regulated. Bone and tissue, not so much."

"COD?"

"At this point, undetermined. All I'll say right now is: based on the level of decomp, he's been dead at least a week."

We finished up in there and went back to our floor. Mike offered to call Sophia and have her interview the foreman. He disappeared to do that, so Nick and I were left to run the prints Mike got off our vic's finger. I leaned on the table by the computer while Nick put the print in the scanner. The computer started running, and it didn't take long to find a match. It came up as Roger Lapinsky. I cocked my head, then searched him in SpyderFinder. His obituary came up. "Nick..."

He walked over. "So the crispy critter isn't Ross Netty."

"It appears that way."

"Let me get this straight...the ex-con digs up a corpse, harvests a few body parts to sell, then fills it back up with pvc and umbrellas, then torches the body where he works to make it look like he's the victim?"

We headed out into the halls to go find Mike. "Cops don't come looking for you if you're already dead."

"Well, if Lapinsky was already dead, how come we didn't find traces of embalming fluid in him?"

"He's Jewish."

"So what?"

"Observing Jews don't believe in embalming or donating organs. It's part of their faith. They think the body should go out the way it came in. Learned that from Mike, by the way."

"Keppler's Jewish?"

I shrugged, "Apparently."

"So, this isn't just about the desecration of the body, but the family as well."

"Yup."

"I'll get a court order for the exhumation. You'll find Keppler and fill him in?"

"Mhm."

"Cool beans." He walked off down another hall.

I went to Mike's office. He was sitting in his chair looking at mail. He was holding what looked like a card from a funeral or something. A quick glance told me it was from a memorial for that girl he had told me about. Amy. I knocked quietly. He glanced up and motioned me in. "Hey," he said.

"Hi." He seemed a little more demure than before, so I asked, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. What you got?"

"Our corpse isn't Ross Netty. Some guy named Roger Lapinsky."

"Netty made it look like it was him to hide from the cops."

"Exactly my thoughts as well."

"And, let me guess, Lapinsky was Jewish, and that's why we didn't find any embalming fluids."

"You're psychic."

"Nope. Just smart."

"Nick's gone to get a court order for the exhumation."

"Good work."

I nodded. "So, is that Amy?" He nodded and handed me the card. It was a nice picture. "She was very pretty."

"Yeah...she was."

I handed it back. "Why didn't you go to the memorial?"

"I...I wasn't sure I should. You know, I'm trying to get past it and all. I thought it might trigger some of those old feelings again."

"It didn't have anything to do with me, did it?"

"No!" He got up and walked over to me. He took my hand and reiterated, "No."

"So, you are ok?"

"I'm fine, Sierra."

"Alright. I just want to be sure. If you want to talk, I'll listen."

"I know."

About ten minutes later, Nick came in with the court order. We went out and dug up the plain coffin of our Roger Lapinsky and took it back to the lab. Clearly marked on the top was a Star of David. Nick informed us, "The coffin had only been in the ground for about a week. The dirt and sod were pretty loose, so it was probably pretty easy to take out and put back in."

Mike was looking at the coffin with slight distaste as he put on his gloves. "You guys sure do a lot of exhumations here."

"As many as we have to," Nick countered.

I rolled my eyes and ordered, "Somebody help me with this lid." Nick, almost suspiciously quickly, moved to help.

"Nobody home," Mike stated once we got the lid off.

"No surprise." I grabbed the camera and started taking pictures while he and Nick examined the inside.

"Hey. Lapinsky may have been burned in this shirt, but I don't think he was buried in it." He pulled out a small piece of a plaid shirt from a crevice in the side of the coffin.

"Dead men don't wear plaid," Nick said. He leaned closer and asked, "Is this blood?" Mike and I leaned in too. I suddenly imagined what exactly we all looked like with our heads stuck in this coffin. I restrained from laughing and snapped a photo.

"Dead men don't bleed," Mike added.

"How much do you guys want to bet that if we run the DNA, we'll find Ross Netty?"

"Yup," they both said practically simultaneously.

"I'll take it up." I swabbed the blood drops and took it up to Wendy.

It took about half an hour to get a result. "Hey, Sierra, it's not Netty."

"Seriously?" She nodded. I dialed Mike. "Hey, meet me at Wendy's station." He showed up a few minutes later. "So, we ran the blood through CODIS and it's not Ross Netty."

"He had a partner."

"DNA matched a Heidi Sultz who did time for domestic assault and is currently out on parole."

"Funny. Netty did time for assault too. Maybe they're sparring partners."

I snorted and said, "I'll drive. You got an address, Wendy?" She gave it to me, and Mike and I headed out to my Ford Escape. We brought along a few outfitted officers as well. The address was out in the hood of the suburbs. Either nobody had dryers or nobody could afford the extra electricity because there were clothes-lines everywhere. "I talked to Heidi's PO," I said. "According to him, Heidi has been trying to straighten out. She's detoxed, got a job, and dumped Ross Netty."

"She might be taking on an ex."

We got up to the door and one of the policemen knocked. "Las Vegas PD!" he called.

She answered. "Heidi Sultz?" I asked.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"You're under arrest."

"Why?"

"Where's Ross?"

"I haven't seen that dog in weeks."

"Is anyone else living here with you?" the officer asked.

"Yeah, my baby, and my new boyfriend Charlie."

"Where are they?" Mike asked.

"Out back, hanging out."

"Put her in the car," I said as I headed around back. I kept a hand on my gun, but I didn't need it. Ross Netty was asleep in a chair. "Ross," I called as I lightly kicked him in the leg. "Wake up, sugar."

"Hey, baby," he mumbled before opening his eyes. Once he had, he amended, "My name's Charlie. Charlie Kiefer."

"Get on the wall." One of the officers pulled him up to pat him down.

"I got ID. It's in my jeans!"

The guy pulled it out and tossed it to Mike. He looked it over and asked, "Where'd you get this? The dollar store? Have a seat Ross." The officer shoved him back in the chair. "This is your third strike, pal. Right now, you're looking at a minimum of 25 years. If you talk to us, we can make sure it doesn't get any worse. What do you say?"

"That's 10 more for falsifying an ID, 15 for grave robbing...arson, that's another 10," I added.

"Desecrating a corpse, 10, another 20 for trafficking body parts..."

"Body parts?" Ross cried. "No way! I thought those cuts were from, like, an autopsy."

"So, you admit to digging up Roger Lapinsky?" I clarified.

"I've been out two months and the best job I can get is welding engine parts together for 5 bucks an hour. They wouldn't even let me flip burgers. Heidi just had the baby...it's not like it was going to hurt anyone. We dug up some guy that kind of looked like me, put my ID on him, then we torched it. All I was looking for was a fresh start. Best way to make it happen was to kill myself."

Mike sighed and told him, "You should've stuck with the five bucks an hour."