Here is chapter thirteen.
Disclaimer: Nope, I will never admit that I do not own CSI.
"I think it is very clear to say that multiple stabbings was the cause of death." Doc wiped his hands on a towel before shuffling over to Grissom at the autopsy tables. Dorothea and Elliot Friar lay on the cold metal slats, their eyes closed in peaceful sleep.
"Elliot suffered a deep cut to his face," the coroner carried on. "The blade ran through the cartilage in his nose and across the tissue in his face. It is not the COD, but it most likely played a factor. The pain would have been enough to knock him over, not to mention that the angle of the cut would have forced him over. Moreover, he was stabbed a number of times—four to be exact. Then we have his wife, Dorothea. Like the first, she was stabbed to death, this time eight stabs. She was left on her side for a small amount of time before the workers found them, but it was long enough to show me that she was dead a reasonable amount of time before everyone's lunch break ended. I suspect, then, that they were killed not long after lunch started."
"The killer must have timed the killing perfectly," said Grissom, "that way he would have had time to escape and get far away before the cops were called. That also means that he was watching them."
Doc leaned against one of the empty tables. "You think that the Chimera Killer has planned this entire thing out." It was not a question.
"It seems that way."
"Sometimes I think it is better to be a medical examiner," Doc sighed as he stared at the deceased. "There is less to beware of."
Grissom followed him and stared out at the bodies of the victims. He fixed his glasses on his face before quoting:
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
Doc chuckled. "You don't seem like the Lewis Carroll type of person to me."
"I'm not."
"Oh, there is one more thing that I wanted to tell you." Doc lumbered over to the bodies. "They were not killed with any regular knife. Since the murderer left the knife he used at Roxanne Theseus' home, he needed a new one to kill with. However, the stab wounds are very thin and measured to less than half an inch; they are deep, though, suggesting that it was long in length."
Grissom processed the new information. "So it was not a knife that killed them."
Doc waved his hand around in the air. "Hmm, I would not say that. It is knife-like."
"Thank you for the help," Grissom started to say when his cell phone went off. He pressed it to his ear impatiently before slapping it shut.
"Where to, now?" Doc asked with a smile as Grissom made his way toward the door.
"The video tech room."
***
"Hello Zoë."
The girl pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at Jim Brass. "Hi."
"How are you doing?" he asked conversationally. Zoë's grandmother was sitting next to her, on the other side of the table. The old woman had on a thick sweater despite the heat of the room. She was glaring at Brass as if he was the cause of all the family's hardship.
Zoë turned her studded bracelet around her wrist out of habit. "I don't know. I'm doing okay, I guess." She shrugged with her words.
Brass resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Teenagers—they gave the worst answers.
"Well, then, how is Zoë adjusting to her new… life?" This question was intended for her grandmother, Belinda Theseus, who was now Zoë's legal guardian.
Mrs. Theseus grabbed the edges of her sweater. She was not used to being in an interrogation room, and her uneasiness was expected. "My granddaughter has been fine. It is taking time for her—for all of us, really—to heal from what has happened, but I must say that she has been doing well. Zoë is going to a new school. She likes all her teachers and has even made a few friends. If only I could do something about the way she dresses…" She shot the girl a look and pulled at the end of her t-shirt.
"Jeez, Grandma," Zoë muttered. "It isn't a big deal."
"Yes it is," replied Mrs. Theseus.
Jim Brass cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. "Zoë, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what was the relationship with you mother like?"
Mrs. Theseus put a hand over her mouth. "What a horrible question to ask of—"
"Gram!" Zoë turned to her head to stare at the older woman. "It's okay, alright? They're the police; they need to ask this kind of stuff." She turned back to the Homicide Detective. "It was pretty normal, I guess. We fought over stupid things sometimes, but it was nothing huge. Mom would take time off to hang out with me when I wasn't with my friends. We would do weird things together, like go to the Renaissance fairs or see movies with the worst reviews. She would help me with my math homework and make dinner at the same time…." The girl's voice died off at the end of the sentence.
"See?" exclaimed her grandmother. "Look what you have done. You made her all emotional."
Zoë just stared ahead at Brass. Her eyes were shining slightly, but besides that, her face held no emotion. Mrs. Theseus and Jim must have been looking at two completely different people.
"So nothing out of the ordinary happened between the two of you lately?"
Once again, her grandmother spoke before she could. "I cannot believe this! Are you suspecting my granddaughter of killing her own mother? Didn't you see her when her friend found her on the ground? She was unconscious! What kind of people are you?!"
"I…" Zoë cleared her throat and then started again. "I would never kill anyone, the least of all my mother. But my grandma is right—I can't believe this either. Never would I do something like that. Never."
"Is there a reason why anyone would want her dead?" he asked, changing the subject.
She met his eyes and simply said, "No."
Brass pulled out a piece of paper and pushed it across the table. "You know that we have a serial killer on our hands. He kills out of things that remind him of Greek mythology. We want to know why he targeted your mother, if you know the reason why."
"Gram," Zoë said softly as she turned to the woman. "Could you please leave for this?"
The old woman looked hurt. "But—"
"Please."
Without a word, Mrs. Theseus got up from her chair and made her way to the door. It closed after her with a soft click.
"My last name," Zoë stated, "is Theseus. In Greek mythology, Theseus was a man who killed the legendary Minotaur in the Labyrinth in Crete. Ariadne, King Minos' daughter, gave him a ball of string so that he could find his way out of the maze, which was created by Dædalus, the greatest inventor of the period."
Brass nodded to himself. The crime lab already knew this piece of information, but they were hoping that they might find out more from Zoë. "So that is the reason why your mother was targeted, because of her surname."
Zoë suddenly turned away, and buried her face into her shirtsleeve. She forcefully shook her head. "No!"
Brass stood up when he realized that she was sobbing.
"No! It's all my fault." She picked her face up, tears streaming down it. "There's more, there's more…."
He handed her a handkerchief and watched as she wiped her face. It did not help much; after the tears were mopped away, more silent tears silently flowed out. However, she appeared calmer than what she was moments before. "Can you explain, Zoë?"
"That's the reason why," she choked out. "Right there. My name—my full name…." She stopped and dabbed her eyes once more. "Zoë comes from a Greek word meaning life. I'm a walking reference: Zoë Theseus. That was why I became so obsessed with Greek mythology—my whole name was made out of it."
Suddenly, the meaning of this hit Jim Brass. "You are saying that the Chimera Killer was not after your mother, but was after you?"
Zoë covered her face with the handkerchief and nodded.
To be continued…
Shocker! Or maybe not…. How would you like to live knowing that your mother died when it was suppose to be you?
The poem that Grissom quotes is from "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll. It is a nonsense poem and my absolute favorite. My penname comes from it. Grissom always stated so poems, and that was the only one I knew. :}
R&R