Of Dogs and Death
Chapter 12
A/N: I've said it before, I'll say it again: Life happens. And continues to happen.
Disclaimer: I own: not the characters. Not the people. Not Starbucks. Just the ideas.
Troubled.
That was one word for it.
Actually, no. It wasn't that he was troubled—exactly. That wasn't the problem...
"Gil. I can hear you thinking."
She turned in his arms so that she was facing him. "Neither one of us is going to get any sleep at this rate."
She drew an invisible line down his forehead to the tip of his nose; lips following finger, and ended lightly on his lips.
"I've got to go back to the kennel. We've missed something."
"We'll go back to the kennel."
"Yes, we'll go back."
It wasn't terribly impressive, the kennel.
A few gray cinder block buildings and a couple of wood chipped play yards were all that composed it.
Though Nick and Warrick had already checked things out, Grissom wanted to talk to each member of the staff personally. Sara tagged along for support-as well as to provide fresh eyes.
"I don't understand. We were already interrogated by those other guys. I don't know what else to tell you." The receptionist was understandably baffled and clearly frustrated.
The phone on the desk rang and she chose to ignore it—trying to please these uninvited—though necessary guests.
"I know you already gave us your statement, but I wanted to hear it one more time—from you. What do you remember about that day?" he gently prodded.
She sighed in resignation, "It was about as normal as any other day here. Except that one of our workers got fired, but that didn't have anything to do with Emily..."
"What is their name?"
"Michael Mast."
"Thank you. Please, continue."
"Everything else was normal. A client called and said he'd be running late so I stayed about 15 minutes past closing. Emily offered to stay—as she usually does when that happens. The dog was picked up. Emily locked up the kennels and we walked out together. I took the deposit next door to the Animal Hospital and Emily got into her car. When I came out she was fiddling with her radio or iPod-but otherwise was fine. I waved goodbye and then left. Like I said, like any other day."
"Who else was still there when you left?"
"Leslie, the office manager of the hospital left as I did. Oh, and Dr. Kevin's truck was there, but he'd gotten a ride home with Dr. Laura. He does that sometimes. So, no one was left."
"You're sure no one else was there?"
"I've told you everything I know." The phone once more sang out its shrill song and she checked the ID. "I'm sorry but I have to take this. Maybe you should check next door?"
On their way out the back they were met by the same young man whom Warrick and Nick had encountered. He gave them half a smile and ducked into the building without a word.
The bell rang as they entered the Animal Hospital and they were met by an empty room. Eventually a woman with curly blond hair came out from the back in a rush.
"Can I help you?" She seemed more than a little distracted.
"Hi we're working..."
"I know who you are. You guys have already been up and down and through this place."
"Ma'am-"
"Leslie."
"Leslie. We just have a few more questions and then we'll be out of your hair. I promise. We're just trying to wrap this up as fast as we can without missing anything." He tried to be gentle without knowing the vic's relationship with the woman.
"TIM!! Cover the front while I talk to these people!"
A young man came out from the back as they made their way to the break room—taking mental notes that this building was far nicer—and cleaner than the one they'd been in moments before. They took their seats at a long table and asked Leslie to once more recount her memory of that fateful night.
Greg was nearly bouncing off the walls when everyone was gathered once more in the abandoned wing of the coroner's office.
"I'm telling you-once again-I have broken this case wide open!"
"Ok. Calm down Greg. We don't have time for mistakes. Take a deep breath. Now, what did you find?"
Sara was impressed with his patience with the younger man given his stress level and lack of sleep. She rubbed his forearm approvingly.
"Apples." He stood still with an expectant look on his face.
"Apples?" Grissom's shoulders slumped.
"Well, apple seeds really."
"Apple seeds? Get to the point Greg."
The younger man eagerly explained, "Ok so you gave me the dumpster-thank you very much-I doubt I'll be seeing any kind of action in this town-but anyways—I found a few Starbucks cups-not surprising-in the can along with miscellaneous other garbage." He stopped to take a breath. "Anyway-I didn't think the dumpster was any more than just that: a dump site. I printed the door and handles and all but got nothing .Then I found another Starbucks cup...with lipstick on it." The boy looked like he was about to explode. "I did some tests and found the DNA of the vic on one of the two cups. Not the one with lipstick. Guys, if we can match the DNA from that cup we have a possible suspect!" He finished before collapsing into a nearby chair and taking a long swig from a Starbucks cup that had been sitting on the table next to him. "Oh don't worry...I picked this up on my way over here," and he proceeded to turn the cup to reveal GREG scribbled on the side. "And before you ask—no--neither of the cups from the the dumpster had names on them. I guess someone was slacking off that day."
Grissom still looked a bit nonplussed. "Apple seeds?"
Greg jumped up again and started pacing and talking, hands waving wildly.
"Right- so I did a chemical analysis on the inside of both cups. One, the one with lipstick was your run of the mill caramel macchiato. Extra caramel. The other was chai with a hint of fruit-mostly apple. Starbucks doesn't make an apple flavored drink. I checked--" he tapped his cup, "and apple seeds contain a cyanide compound. Apple seeds, or pips, contain amygdalin-a cyanide and sugar compound that degrades into hydrogen cyanide when metabolized. The Nazis used hydrogen cyanide in their gas chambers during World War II. Don't worry though-I don't think we're dealing with modern day Nazis-just a bit of history for you. Cyanide is a poison that kills by denying the blood the ability to carry oxygen. As we all know oxygen is essential—if you want to keep on living. Cyanide victims ultimately die of asphyxiation. It acts quickly and irrevocably—once a lethal amount has been ingested there's no effective antidote. Death would take place within minutes. However, simply swallowing the pips, of which it would take a HUGE amount, wouldn't necessarily cause death because they have a tough protective coating that isn't susceptible to the digestive juices. Unless the pips are pulverized or masticated, the amygdalin they contain stays safely inside. Cherry, peach and apricot pits also contain amygdalin—and in more potentially harmful amounts but it would be more difficult to grind up a peach pit than a bunch of apple seeds. Of course it couldn't hurt to look for properties of the other fruits as well—a combination of pits and pips would probably make for a faster lethal combination. How about them apples?"
Grissom took the young man in before saying anything. He'd done his homework. That much was obvious.
"Good work Greg. That sounds like a plausible theory. Get to work on matching DNA and let me know what comes up. Sara, go back to the vet office and collect anything that may have been used to grind up meds or...apple seeds. I'm going to find the Doc."
"Doc?"
"Yes, the Doc. Turns out Doc Robbins and his wife have a house on the beach near here and they happen to be in town—so he's doing me a favor by looking at the body. Meet back here when everyone's finished."
And with that he was out the door.
She wasn't looking forward to going back to the vet office even a little bit. These people had a business to run—that much they'd made clear. She hoped it would be an in and out job.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
A/N: My apologies for taking so long. For a long time I debated even finishing this story, but I knew that I had to. It's nearly there. This part turned out to be harder to write than I thought. Thanks to anyone who's still with me. TBC...