Chapter Eight
Really Short Random Thoughts
Disclaimer et al see first chapter.
Prompts from Toothchick: smurf, lemon, bread, sequins and pink.
Grissom found an inch and half blue plastic figurine on the floor underneath the victim after the coroner bagged the body.
He studied the evidence with an intent gaze before David Phillips broke his concentration, "It's a Smurf."
"Thank you. Actually, I knew that."
David looked at him over his glasses that had slipped down his nose during the body transfer. "I loved watching that show."
"Well, 'Brainy' you might want to get that body to 'Papa Smurf,' don't you think?"
"Okay, 'Grouchy'." David grinned at Grissom and pointed to Sara. "Don't keep 'Smurfette' out too late."
The acid in the lemon neutralizes the amines in fish by converting them into nonvolatile ammonium salts, Grissom thought as he squeezed the fresh juice over the halibut he was cooking himself for a solitary dinner.
I really should think about something more interesting than science.
I can think about Sara.
I wonder if she'd eat this fish with me or would the fish burn because we'd be too busy on my couch tangled together, hastily removing our clothes?
Deciding he should go for it, he called her.
She'd be there in thirty minutes, so he turned off the fish.
"You growing your own penicillin, now?"
"No, why?" Grissom looked up over his reader glasses at the woman standing before him.
Catherine smiled. "You can't prove that by me," pointing to the black molded bread sitting in a sandwich bag on his cluttered desk.
"That was my lunch a few days ago." Grissom returned his attention to the paperwork he'd been working on before she'd interrupted him.
"The gang's going to eat at the diner. You love that place. And Sara's going," she added as if an afterthought, but she knew it was the selling point.
"Greg is going to freak when he hears this," laughed Warrick Brown as he and Sara made their way up the stairwell to the first floor of the Crime Lab. They'd been in the morgue discussing the cause of death in their latest case.
"I'm not telling him." Sara smirked.
"He'll find out about it and he'll be pissed we didn't tell him ourselves." Warrick reasoned.
"Okay, you tell Greg. I'm going to Grissom's office."
"You tell Griss our transvestite died from asphyxiation from ingestion of sequins and I tell Greg?"
"Sounds good to me."
"Kiss ass."
"Um-huh."
They were investigating the death of a young woman who'd last been seen alive at a Pink concert at the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel. She had been found by a valet, the next morning, dead partially underneath the car he'd been retrieving.
The tox report had come back clean with no drugs or alcohol noted in her system. COD had been a single blow to the right occipital region. The owner of the car, a tourist from Missouri, was a dead end. No evidence at the scene or on the body.
Grissom and Sidle closed the case as unsolved.
To be continued…Reviews are appreciated…:)