Chapter Nine
Dr. Robles again voiced his discontent to Marcus Baxter about Iris attending the necropsy in progress on Winner. He was suffering from the monstrous hangover and doing his best to pull it together. The CSI was due any minute but Dr. Robles wouldn't let it go. He was afraid she'd pick up on a sign to show his compromised status. "Why can't she just receive my report and the video?"
"Hell, Mike, will you quit beating a dead horse over this? The colonel's given her full access. None of us can go against that," Marcus replied grimly, his reference to the famous saying causing the veterinarian to groan.
Iris now entered the room. "Hello, have I missed much?"
"No, Ms. King, you haven't. At least you made sure to be gowned and gloved," Dr. Robles was particularly dismissive and Iris knew her presence wasn't welcome.
"I'll be happy to assist you if you need, Dr. Robles, I've participated in human postmortems. Just tell me what I can do," Iris offered quietly.
"Well, let's put the taxpayers' dollars to work, hand me a scalpel," Dr. Robles snapped irritably. Iris wouldn't mention her past work experience as a nurse. She'd had her share of dealings with the ego of more than one physician. The fact this one's specialty was non-human didn't change anything.
x x x x x
Four days later, Grissom went into the break room and found Iris with her nose crinkled and a double sideways move of her chin while she stared at her laptop. He found it amusing and decided to check up on her. While Iris was still his first choice for his team, Riley was proving to be a good addition in spite of the circumstances and Iris' agreeing to work on swing had negated any possible friction. Rich Bailey remained out because his flu had worsened now to pneumonia and the assistant swing supervisor was covering things while looking to Grissom for input. Because Ecklie had told the colonel that Iris would be under his supervision during her investigation, he'd kept in close contact with her and was pleased with how quickly she'd acclimated to how their crime lab operated.
"Problems?" Grissom asked with a benign smile.
"Oh, hey, I'm not agreeing with the diagnosis Dr. Robles came up with. He says Winner aspirated his feed and suffered secondary aspiration pneumonia because pulmonary edema was found at the necropsy with feed particles in the lungs," Iris grumbled and added. "On top of that, I go to close on my house this afternoon."
"Congratulations. So, what's your theory?" Grissom sat down beside her and saw she was reading an internet article.
"My ducks aren't all in a row yet pending lab results from the blood, saliva, fecal, tissue and the necropsy organ samples I've submitted which Dr. Robles was reluctant to share. I believe the horse had acute respiratory paralysis and that aspiration pneumonia is contributory but masking the true culprit," Iris declared with a rueful head shake. "I'm sticking to this case alone right now but shouldn't I be involved on swing doing something else too?"
"Ecklie wants you on the assignment until the case is solved with the political favor he could gain if there's a successful outcome," Grissom informed her as her eyebrows rose in surprise.
"But what if I screw the pooch on my investigation? Ecklie'll be the lawnmower and my you-know-what's the grass. I know a brown-noser when I see it and he's one who wants to get ahead," Iris replied, her finger tapping on her notes.
"While I don't disagree with your take on Ecklie, I want you to keep your focus and pursue the evidence. If your interpretation of the facts differs from the veterinarian's findings, it won't be the first time one of my CSI's interpretations of the facts overrode that of an expert," Grissom encouraged with a pat on her shoulder.
"Thanks, your confidence sure bolsters mine," Iris allowed with a smile.
"Insisto testimonium," Grissom intoned solemnly with the grave expression of an instructor.
"Umm, crap, I took Latin in high school and got razzed for it. Shoot…wait for it…follow the evidence," Iris said after several moments of brain racking.
"Very good, grasshopper," Grissom said with a smile of approval before he left.
"A bug reference, how Grissomish," Iris sighed in part admiration and part acknowledgement that the man was attractive before telling herself. "Ack, get your head back in the game and show your stuff!"
x x x x x
The swing shift assistant supervisor, Betty Malone, had granted her permission to come late to shift for the closing at the title company. Iris strolled through the house and smiled at the potential the place had, thankful for the ideas the Home and Garden cable channel had given her. She'd have to ask Nick if they did "the party" here in Vegas or not. She got on her cell phone to call the movers who'd bring the furniture from her storage unit. Yup, she had much to do, the first of which was get back to the Homewood Suites to fix the spread she'd promised Grissom and the team.
Brass was heading to his office when his nose told him there was a major food fest in the vicinity. He couldn't recall a memo or email saying there was going to be a meal provided for the LVPD or crime lab graveyard shift. He walked to the break room and found a line there comprised of Grissom, Catherine, Nick, Riley and Greg, followed the lab rat brigade of Hodges, Wendy, Henry and Mandy. Nick looked like he was ready to chew a hole in the wall.
"Gil, what gives?" Brass asked before the wheezing cough he couldn't shake interrupted him.
"Iris is celebrating her buying a house by bringing us a dinner spread," Grissom replied. "Haven't you been to the doctor about that yet?"
"It's a damn cold, that's all, and I don't need a white coat to tell me what I already know," Brass insisted.
"Be careful, you know Rich is in the hospital now with his flu that morphed into pneumonia," Grissom admonished.
"Yeah, I heard, so what's the menu in there?" Brass changed the subject.
"Prepare to feast, Brass man!" Nick was rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
"Hey, Jim, to answer your question, here's what's inside. I got it set up buffet style so help yourselves to walnut-sage-pesto turkey breast, almond rolls, walnut-orange-cranberry relish, mashed red russet potatoes, mixed vegetable dressing casserole and pumpkin pie tarts," Iris said wearing an apron emblazoned hot stuff. She gave a little bow with a beckoning wave.
Grissom pushed Brass ahead of him, "Go for it Jim!"
The team, Brass and the lab rats ate themselves nearly into a stupor over the next several minutes. Iris positioned herself in a corner and surveyed the gusto with which they ate with a slight smile of satisfaction. The lab rats stayed long enough to thank Iris before they had to get back to their respective work assignments. Brass needed to go after he took a quick call from dispatch for a 419. Before leaving he walked up to Iris. "I guess Stokes was telling the truth when he said you were a whiz in the kitchen. Did it take you long to make?"
"Oh maybe few hours but not bad, my captain," Iris grinned. "With all the places you can eat in Vegas, I hope my effort was palatable."
"Sign me up for your future efforts," Brass smirked before another racking cough caught him.
"Have you…," Iris began when Brass made a slashing motion across his throat.
"No," he replied with a growl.
"Uh, well, Nick, do you and the team ever do the party favor?" Iris turned to the tall Texan who was in the middle of downing a pumpkin pie tart.
"Party favor?" Brass glanced at Grissom who shook his head. Jim decided to delay his exit to hear what Iris was talking about.
"Aw, Iris, that was a slick way to go about it. Okay, back in Dallas we'd hold a party if there was a team member who needed help with a big household project. Iris always came through with the food part, so we've been fed and if we agree she needs help with her place," Nick explained. "Whatever you need Iris, I'm on board!"
"I'm in," Grissom promised.
"Me too," Catherine said.
"Make that three," Greg said with raised hand.
"I'll go along," Riley nodded.
"Well, if this isn't limited to the CSI's, I'm game," Brass chimed in before adding, "I gotta go but if there's leftovers…"
"I'll make you a plate," Iris pledged.
There was a commotion in the hallway then of shouts and whistles, prompting everyone in the break room to come in time to see one of the female CSI's from the swing shift with a police officer kneeling in front of her. They were flanked by other crime lab workers as well as some uniformed officers.
"Hey, Jalene finally got Benji to pop the question!" Nick exclaimed by Iris.
"Another bachelor detective bites the dust," Jim observed between heavy sniffles. "Our ranks just got thinner."
"She's waited three years on him, Jim, I'd say she's been patient," Catherine declared.
"I give 'em five years tops," Brass said and then hurried out.
After the team gave congratulations to the happy couple, they returned to the break room where Iris presented her need to the group. "The rooms needed painted and I will make a BBQ meal for those who can come."
A time was agreed upon and then the team dispersed once Grissom gave out assignments. Iris set herself to cleaning up and was humming contentedly when Grissom silently checked on her before he went with Catherine to cover the 419 call Brass had left to take.
It was sunrise the next morning when Brass returned to his office, having gotten a text from Iris to check the break room refrigerator. The 419 had happened after a guy got knifed over a gambling debt he was trying to collect. An APB for a suspect had been issued; the creep already had a long rap sheet. Jim felt it wouldn't be long before he'd be in custody. Wanting a positive change of scenery, he went to the break room and true to her word he found a large foil-covered plate. The woman could cook he admitted and hoped to be able to attend future spreads she prepared. He didn't have much of an appetite but was determined to eat every bite. The coughing was getting worse by the day and he might have to go see a doctor but he wasn't to the point he'd give in and go.
x x x x x
Later the same morning Iris had returned to the governor's ranch to again go over the stall which remained in its original condition when Winner had collapsed at the request of the colonel. The governor had agreed when told that the colonel had agreed to reserve some of Winner's postmortem-collected semen to inseminate his mare. The rest of the frozen sperm would be kept to continue his breeding program with. The chance to turn something good out of the tragedy had caused the colonel to offer a handsome price for any progeny that resulted.
Iris found the silver tabby cat curled up on a bale of straw by the stall and lifted it up to hold while it purred away happily. That cat kneaded its paws contentedly on her chest as she winced slightly at nearly feeling the claws through her CSI vest. She noticed the dirt encrusting the cat's claws and something clicked. Iris put the cat down and found a stable worker.
"Where is Dr. Robles? I'm Investigator King from the crime lab," Iris asked urgently.
"He's with the colonel and the governor watching the mare Winner was to cover be impregnated, hopefully," the stable worker replied and pointed to a nearby smaller barn.
Iris pulled out her cell phone to call Grissom as she hurried toward the building.
"What's up, Iris?" she heard Grissom ask between two yawns.
"Griss, I'm terribly sorry to wake you up but I'm back at the ranch and I want to put this past you before I see the colonel," Iris apologized and then told Grissom her thoughts.
"Your findings are congruent with the evidence and the hypothesis plausible. You have my support and go ahead to meet the colonel. Let me know what happens even if it means waking me up again," Grissom instructed and hung up.
Iris breathed a silent prayer to have mental clarity as she entered the barn. Colonel Gavin Quinn saw her, as did Dr. Robles and Marcus Baxter. She noted a dour expression on the veterinarian and Marcus looked like he'd just drunk spoiled milk.
"Well, little lady, I had your crime lab results compared to those I had done at an independent lab privately after Winner's necropsy. Dr. Robles' assessment that the horse had aspirated and developed acute pneumonia because of the lung edema and inflammation is backed up. I'm satisfied that Winner's death was accidental but my people should've been more observant," Colonel Quinn said facing Iris and he didn't see the darkening scowls of his trainer and veterinarian.
"Colonel, if you'd indulge me, I just have a few final questions for Dr. Robles," Iris requested.
"Miss King, Ecklie told me that you'll be riding for the Sheriff's Mounted Posse as well as doing your CSI work, so I suppose you didn't make that known thinking I'd view it as a way to gain favor?" Gavin asked with an amused look.
"Perhaps, sir, may I ask my questions," Iris persisted.
"Yes, I'm interested to hear where this goes," the colonel acquiesced.
"Dr. Robles, was Winner current on all of his vaccinations?" Iris turned toward the veterinarian.
"Yes, of course, on all required vaccinations, why?" Dr. Robles replied with an irritated look.
"Was Winner ill recently?" Iris posed another question.
"He'd had a recent upper respiratory tract infection treated successfully. I cleared him as fit to fly here. The colonel and Marcus agreed," Dr. Robles insisted.
"Was he ever vaccinated for botulism?" Iris countered quietly.
"Botulism?" Dr. Robles sputtered indignantly. "That isn't a routine vaccination protocol for any of the colonel's horses, besides proving that diagnosis will be difficult if not impossible!"
"Investigator King, just what in the devil are you driving at? Dr. Robles wouldn't have cleared Winner for air travel if the animal wasn't in good health," Marcus protested.
"Let's hear the little lady out," Colonel Quinn put up a cautioning hand.
"As you must know, Clostridium botulism is found in the soil in Kentucky. It can be contracted through puncture wounds in horses and thus known as wound botulism. If you check Winner's body at the root of the tail you will find minute puncture wounds in thickened tissue that callused up over time where Winner's feline stable mate repeatedly kneaded at the same spot. Mr. Baxter alluded to this in a prior conversation. The symptoms of progressive motor paralysis, disturbed vision, difficulty in chewing and swallowing, and generalized progressive weakness with death usually due to respiratory or cardiac paralysis. Winner's respiratory paralysis and the resultant pulmonary edema were contributory to his feed aspiration but also his compromised immune system from the recent respiratory infection. This allowed the botulism to have an accelerated cycle and caused Winner's death to occur much faster than usual. If you perform additional cultures and studies, I think you will find this to be the true cause of death which was indeed accidental," Iris summarized.
Dr. Robles said nothing but made a snort of disdain.
Marcus shook his head, "I should've run over that cat when I had the chance."
Iris glanced at him through narrowed eyes. "Colonel, if the stable cat is at risk I want to take him with me."
"Don't fret, Miss Iris. That troublemaker's staying behind and will have a good home here. The stable manager here will see to it," Gavin replied genially. It may be a long shot, little lady, but I'm willing to put some faith in your conclusions. You're willing to contradict my vet and that's gutsy on your part. You can tell your boss Grissom you did a good job," Colonel Gavin told her and Iris knew she was being dismissed.
On her way back to Vegas, Iris promptly called Grissom to relay the colonel's positive reception of her findings. She kept the conversation brief so her true boss could get back to sleep. She did the same as a courtesy to Brass, wondering if the ring tone she'd chosen for his number was reckless on her part. She let the thought go as her mind now went forward to preparing for the paint party to take place at her new home.
x x x x x
Jim didn't need a GPS. He'd been in Vegas long enough that he knew every nook and cranny north, south, east and west of the city. Iris' house was in a decent area in the far northern end of town. He pulled up and saw the vehicles of the CSI team parked in the driveway and in front of the modest stucco style home. A painting party he mused to himself. It was the first thing Grissom's team had done together since what had happened surrounding Warrick's murder.
This was a positive thing to do he decided but he wasn't entirely sure why he was supposed to be here. He had indirectly committed himself at the team spread, but he wasn't a CSI yet Grissom told him later it wouldn't be the same if he wasn't there. Brass worked the closest with Grissom and his team as opposed to the day and swing shift CSI's and on rare occasions he joined the graveyard team to eat but that'd been the extent of social interaction. Grudgingly he'd admitted to Grissom that Iris' findings about their case made sense because his side of the investigation hadn't shown a red herring for a suspect amongst the colonel's or governor's staff to prove sufficient motive. Now it was a matter of letting the lab findings from the evidence gathered determine if Iris or the vet had the cause of death pinpointed.
He was a bit embarrassed being in the worst clothes he could find at home to use to do painting: a ratty gray Boston Bruins T-shirt and NPD (Newark Police Department) workout shorts. Jim locked the Charger and went up to ring the doorbell, now inhaling the smell of barbeque and feeling hungry. He stared a moment at the sign posted by it in bold calligraphic script of "Dance as if no one was watching. Sing as if no one was listening. And live every day as if it were your last." His memory of the song played at the wake for Warrick was jogged.
Jim took in the words for several moments before committing himself to ring it and then stepped back a bit when canine baying resulted. Brass then heard a female voice he was getting to know well say sharp words in a language unknown to him. The commotion ceased as the door opened.
"Hey, Jim, glad you could make it, come on in," Iris greeted him, herself clad in a well worn Dallas Stars green 1999 Stanley Cup championship shirt and denim capris and a Dallas Stars white ball cap.
Two bloodhounds sat just inside in the entryway, tails eagerly thumping the floor and panting happily.
"Uh, do they bite?" Jim asked eyeing the dogs suspiciously.
"Not unless you bite me first," Iris laughed and added, "they are security trained but in general big pups. This is Cyrano and Durante, brothers from the same litter, former police scent dogs. Just give 'em a scratch behind the ears and they'll show you where the valuables are."
Coming into the house, Jim heard music playing that could be heard throughout the place. Brass gingerly leaned over to pet each of the dogs and follow through with the obligatory ear scratches. The large dogs responded in fawning all over him, causing Iris to grin his way. "My dogs have a nose for character, Jim, so you've won them over. They generally take a while to warm up to people they don't know. I gotta get them back next door or I'll have paw prints in paint. Be back in a jiffy. Cool shirt, sir, Bruins are a great team!"
Grissom spied Brass and walked up, a paint roller in one hand. "Jim, so you decided to come, eh?"
"I didn't have anything better to do today, Gil," Brass shrugged.
"Okay, Da Vinci, put your butt to use," Catherine appeared suddenly and Jim felt the handle of paint brush plied in his hand.
"Where do I go?" Jim asked.
"C'mon, you can help me finish the master bedroom, it's the last door," Catherine said, locking elbows with him and taking him down the hallway.
Jim saw Nick and Greg rolling away furiously in the middle bedroom. Riley was working on the hallway bathroom. Grissom had returned to put finishing touches on the living room. Drop cloths covered the furniture and floors throughout the house.
"Hey, Catherine, remember the bet if we finish the room before you and Brass!" Nick hollered when he saw them walk past.
"What bet?" Jim questioned.
"Ignore Nicky. Be careful, we finished the hallway earlier but the walls are still damp," Catherine warned.
"Like these clothes are gonna notice," Brass retorted, still wondering about what the bet consisted of.
"Actually, I'm kind of surprised to see you but it's a great way to help Iris feel she's welcome," Catherine remarked while she popped the lid off a paint can and poured some into a paint tray. She then handed it to Brass. The color was a cool mint green. "Iris picked great colors – desert sand, rose, mint green, they echo the natural colors around here."
"Yeah, I have to add home and garden channel to the DVR. Well, you guys rarely invite me along for anything if you recall," Jim reminded while he dipped his paint brush. He glanced about the room wondering where to start.
"Hey, we'll do the trim areas and then finish with the rollers. You know after what's happened…maybe…maybe we should start doing more together not only as a team but kind of like family," Catherine told him when her blue eyes suddenly darkened with sadness. "Damn, Jim, it's not fair….he should be here too."
Her head dropped as Jim heard a faint sniffle and he went to hug her close. "He's probably haunting us right now, kiddo."
Catherine laughed weakly against his chest when Iris suddenly walked in and saw them embracing. She flushed a bright pink and backpedaled stammering, "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"It's not what you think, King!" Brass said with an irritated snort.
"Iris, honest, Jim's right. I was having a sad moment that's all," Catherine explained.
"Uh, I just wanted to let you know lunch'll be ready in about an hour and a half. I figure the painting will be done by then. We'll be having cherry BBQ brisket, ribs and ham, maple baked beans, grilled asparagus pasta salad and grilled fruit kabobs," Iris informed them hastily and left.
"She probably thinks we have a thing for each other," Jim huffed, "but the lunch sounds worth staying for. Look for what it's worth I agree with what you said. You and Gil and those guys are the closest I've got to family except for Ellie, then my mother and brother back in Newark."
"I think Gil would wax philosophical and say something about the parallel between painting these white walls and that we're having a fresh start," Catherine opined as she pulled away from Brass.
"That's some sort of Zen bologna," Jim agreed and then they both got after it to get the room finished, both determined not to lose to the younger CSI's.
x x x x x
Grissom was manning the grill for Iris while she pulled off the fruit kabobs. Her patio was covered by an arbor under which the team was seated comfortably at two patio tables while they ate. Brass was unashamedly on his third helping of everything when he saw Iris sneaking a glance his way. He winked at her and patted his stomach to show he was enjoying the food.
"Hey, King, when I got here you said something weird to make your dogs mind. You care to explain?" Brass asked curiously.
Iris didn't know how much Nick had told the team about her and she'd rather they hear it first hand from her. She quickly served the fruit kabobs and seated herself by Jim. "Have any of you ever heard of the Dallas serial murderer known as the FTD Lady Killer from a couple of years ago?"
There was a chorus of positive responses from the group.
Iris knew Grissom was aware of her history partly from Nick and also during their frequent correspondences after she had accepted his job offer, it had been a topic of discussion. Grissom was satisfied she had come full circle with the experience and it hadn't factored at all in his decision to hire her beyond that.
"There were a total of seven victims, but the seventh survived and her testimony put the killer away for life in a maximum security psychiatric hospital. He was a homicide detective on the Dallas Police Department, someone the seventh victim knew well but only the side he let his coworkers know," Iris told them like it was a bedtime story.
"Yeah but the identity of the seventh victim was never revealed. The press went nuts over that but the court record was sealed to protect the victim," Greg said before he looked at Iris as the light went off.
"How would you know the seventh victim knew he was a homicide detective?" Riley queried with a raised eyebrow.
"It was you?" Brass suddenly blurted in near disbelief.
"Detective Max Schneider was a good friend but wanted more than that from me and when I rebuffed him he marked me as number seven," Iris confirmed with a head nod.
"Ouch, that'd make you sour on other detectives, huh?" Brass interjected.
"Truth is I've always liked their company and have several as friends," Iris reassured him with a wink.
"How'd you get away?" Catherine gasped.
"Being handcuffed to a bed buck naked with the promise of a gentle rape before I died made me think what am I gonna do! So I beg to go the bathroom first while promising him to give him the ride of his life after I'm done just to try and make a plan. I found an umbrella in there and when Max opened the door, I pulled a fencing move while au natural which is a sight in itself that'd cause instant blindness before I clobbered him with it," Iris was self-deprecating and demonstrated an en garde and then a lunge that caused the group to break up in loud laughter.
"How'd you adjust to something like that?" Riley asked, now looking at Iris differently.
"And how does that tie in with your dogs, you didn't say?" Brass added.
"The first several months were tough. The dogs were being retired and I wanted four-footed protection, so I had them security trained but the commands I wanted to use had to be an obscure language someone else wouldn't readily know. I opted for Navajo like in the movie "The Wind Talkers," Iris divulged while looking at Brass.
"You've had some rough patches with losing your husband and then that," Catherine said with a low whistle.
"Does that have anything to do with that sign posted by the doorbell?" Brass now asked pointedly.
Grissom observed neutrally as Brass' interest mirrored the rest of the group as they were getting to know Iris better.
"It's only by humor that I truly got over what happened where Max was concerned. There came a time I wanted to make a change and that's why I'm here now. I decided to take up fencing again like I did in high school and to have a horse, learn dancing, and realize some passions in life. So, yeah, the sign is appropriate for me," Iris nodded.
"So that would be your le code de vie," Brass observed, Grissom looking his way in surprise.
"Yes, mon capitan, indeed it is," Iris acknowledged.
"Well, explain the swords and daggers on your bed? Is that to ward off potential suitors?" Brass snickered.
"I collect as a hobby and those are decorative art. I do fancy blades but perhaps to the right guy that'll be a turn-on," Iris said with a tart look.
The sky was beginning to change from day to early evening and the painting party was winding down. Everyone was full of food and the painted walls throughout the house were nearly dry. Brass felt nature's call and the hallway bathroom was in use. He remembered seeing the other bathroom in the master bedroom and went on in. Jim found Iris seated on a cedar chest at the foot of her bed, looking at a photo album with a profoundly sad expression on her face. She looked up when he came in and abruptly put the album on her bed.
"Uh, I need to take a leak and the other one's in use, can I use the one in here?" Jim asked bluntly.
"Sure, go for it," Iris said straight-faced.
After taking care of business, Jim came back out and Iris was still seated on the cedar chest with a distant look in her eyes.
"Um, interesting cedar chest you got there, sort of unusual to see a coat of arms pattern on the wood panels. That rocking chair over in the corner looks old as dirt too, so you must be into antiques," he joked while he came to sit by her. "Are you okay?"
Iris felt his concern was sincere. "They're the only ones I have but there's a story to those pieces."
"Do tell. I got a few minutes before I need to leave, clue me in," Jim said amiably.
"My grandmother left me the cedar chest to be my hope chest and the rocking chair is as old as dirt I think," Iris smiled faintly at the memories being stirred up. "My grandmother wanted me to store things I'd use as a bride in the chest and rock my own babies to sleep one day in the rocking chair. You see she stayed with us when her health declined and I went to nursing school to help care for her. My mom was a nurse and it was a practical career choice at the time."
"Go on, I got time," Brass glanced at his watch and figured if he was a little late so what.
"My maternal grandmother raised us on the story that when someone died they saw a rainbow of beautiful light. Grandma was in hospital and I'd promised myself she wouldn't be alone if it was her time. I was there as much as I could be while working full time. I got the call she was sinking fast and on my way she died. So you see I broke two promises, one to her and one to me. I didn't get to see her rainbow," Iris finished softly, her eyes misting from the painful memories.
"Tough break," Jim said, "but you have to know she's smiling down on you from up there and is proud of you."
"I dunno, Jim, I had a crappy marriage and no babies to rock to sleep. I always saw myself having that but life doesn't always go to plan does it?" Iris reckoned.
"Don't sell yourself short. You turned lemons into lemonade I think. Uh, I need to do another tour of duty before I go," Brass pointed to the bathroom.
Iris nodded and then faced him with a fixed smile. "Say bye before you plow, okay?"
She closed the door behind her and Jim knew the smile to be false just as his reason to go to the bathroom had been. He'd hoped she would leave. His head full of questions was coupled with a detective's curiosity as he reached for the photo album to thumb through. It was supposed to be a wedding album but there were next to no pictures. She'd been married by a justice of the peace with only a few guests present. David was taller with dark hair, a hawk-like nose, pale blue eyes, and a thin-lipped mouth that seemed to conceal a hint of cruelty. He had a look of being arrogantly intelligent. A day that for Iris should've been full of promise and happiness, but only was a time in her life she had bluntly called crappy. Beside the album was a framed picture with the words embroidered into cloth: "The measure of love is what one is willing to give up for it." He'd learned some things about her today, surprising things, leaving him wanting to know her better.
His sneezing and coughing were still plaguing him and he knew it wasn't getting better. Hearing about Rich Bailey's being in the hospital with a flu complicated by pneumonia had his attention.
Jim saw Iris in the kitchen loading up the dishwasher on his way out. Grissom was closing the patio day after checking on the BBQ grill one last time.
"Good vittles, have me over any time," Brass told her with a thumbs up but covered his face then with a paper towel to sneeze into.
"Hey my place is 24/7 for any of you always," she grinned with a wave before admonishing, "Get yourself something for that bad cold of yours!
Brass' response was a head nod but Iris took that as "yeah, yeah, yeah." Lord, this man was stubborn she thought.
"Jim, I'm out too. Iris, catch you at work," Grissom said following Brass out.
As they walked to their vehicles, Jim took a last look at the house. "Gil, she don't act like she's got the baggage she oughtta."
"Like some of us, she needed to make a change for the better but if I had any doubts I wouldn't let her have a politically sensitive case like the one you worked with her. If you had any doubts about her you'd have told me. She's a good criminalist and I'm pleased to have her even though it can't be on the team," Grissom responded, but Jim felt the "some of us" meant him.
"Does she know the circumstances about her and Riley?" Jim wondered as they neared their vehicles.
"Yes and there was no drama about. She and Riley have interacted well and I don't anticipate any problems, do you?" Grissom replied.
"No, I guess not, she's just got a history I wouldn't have guessed unless I had the details," Jim considered before he got into his Charger to leave. He might just have to pay a visit to the Walgreen's near his house and take Iris' advice. He was steadfast though in his resolve about not going to see a doctor.