20) Not All Clowns Are Named 'It'
Ecklie slammed his phone down, hoping the Sergeant had been on the other end when he did it. He sank back in his chair, closing his eyes for a minute. Because that was all he had between the action and a lab tech entering his office.
"Sir, I need these signed off."
Ecklie looked up at the speaker; Martin Cole, one of the day shift's number one lab techs. He was the labs temporary supervisor for another three or four weeks – and then Ecklie would have to decide if he was going to stay on as supervisor, or day shifts supervisor was going to be removed from suspension.
"What is this?" Ecklie asked, holding his hand out for the papers.
"The investigation between Tiffany and James."
Ecklie resisted a long sigh. Tiffany had quit two weeks ago, then turned around and sued the police department, claiming her supervisor had sexually harassed her. As this report had told him, she and her supervisor were dating behind Ecklie's back, the supervisor caught her cheating with another lab tech, and one thing led to another, right into this really big mess. Why couldn't they have kept it simple like Gil and Sara had? Hidden until it had been exposed, and even then it was kept quiet until the day she left.
Ecklie scribbled his signature across the bottom and then stood, handing the papers back.
"If you guys need me, call my cell."
"Are you going to lunch?"
"Something like that," Ecklie answered as he walked out.
He walked to the elevators and tapped the call button.
"Oh, Ecklie, I'm glad I caught you," CSI Darla said as she ran up to him.
He sighed this time. He didn't want to be caught.
"We finished the analysis of the brake lines on the two cars. Cindy Cooper's line had been tampered with." Darla shoved her case file into his hands even though he hadn't been reaching for it.
He looked at the elevator when the doors opened for him. Wistfully he watched them close without him onboard. He turned his attention back to the case file she was flipping through.
"Here," she said, pointing to the report. "And the tool marks match a pair of pliers found in Steven Montgomery's toolbox."
She looked up at him with a bright smile. Ecklie turned an icy star on her and her smile faded.
"Except Steven has been in Japan for three months, Darla. Did you factor that into your investigation?" Ecklie couldn't resist thinking to himself, 'You really are a dumb CSI.'
"Oh. We did confirm that, didn't we?" she took the case file back.
It was a good thing she was only two weeks on the job or he'd have fired her right now.
"Can I go now?" Ecklie asked.
"Yeah," she said with that absent minded tone she used when she'd already gone back to her case.
Ecklie tapped the button again, watching her walk away. The elevator doors opened right away and he stepped on.
"Ecklie!" someone called.
He jammed his finger against the 'Door Close' button before they reached the elevator, and then tapped the large 'B.' He let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall. The ride down was too short and the doors opened to let Robbins in and him out.
"Conrad, I have some files that need your signature. I can—"
"I'll come back to do that," Ecklie interrupted.
Robbins stopped half off the elevator, staring at him. Ecklie held his stare.
"Rough day?" Robbins asked.
Ecklie turned, walking away. He didn't want to answer that.
"I'll see you later then," Robbins called.
Ecklie waved his hand, turning towards records. The silence was deeper as soon as entered the vast room. He turned down the last aisle and stopped, seeing the light on under the door. He reconsidered retreating to The Wall. Course, maybe it was Grissom or Catherine. They'd leave him alone and let him write. Ecklie continued walking, grabbed a piece of chalk from the drawer, and let himself into the room. The person he found was Nick. He was sitting on the table, a pair of earbuds stuck in his ears and his eyes closed. Ecklie turned away from him, looking up at the wall to find where the last rule he recalled writing.
He started at 299:
299. You will no longer copy down our 'witty lines' for any publication – magazine, story, book, you name it – GREG! (Mandy's handwriting) Contributed by Mandi96
"There are days I don't know why I keep Greg."
"Or Hodges?" Nick asked.
Ecklie looked back. He had one earbud out and was watching Ecklie.
"Or you," Ecklie shot back, looking away.
Nick didn't respond, so Ecklie read the next one.
300. We do not refer to children as "curtain crawlers." (Mystery writer's neat print)
"Have you guys found out who this writer is, yet?" Ecklie asked.
"That all depends."
Ecklie looked back at him again. He was fiddling with his MP3 player.
"On?"
Nick looked up at him. "Everyone else is still stumped. Still pouring over the evidence."
"And you aren't?"
Nick slowly shook his head. "I know who it is. So does Grissom."
"Who is it?"
"After that 'or you' remark you're expecting me to be nice? Get real!"
Ecklie considered taking the remark back, but didn't. He read the next rule to himself:
301. "Forensic for Dummies" and "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Criminal Investigation" are not books we refer rookies to – even if they are exceptionally stupid rookies. (Mystery writer's neat print)
Ecklie turned to Nick. He was staring at his MP3 player.
"Nick."
Nick looked up at him. "Yeah?"
"Who is it?"
Nick just smiled.
"You don't really know who it is."
"Yeah. I do."
"For how long have you known?"
"Came to me during that murder case at the National Rodeo Finals. Figured the whole thing out then."
"So who is it?"
Nick shook his head. "You were a CSI. You get to figure it out with the rest of them."
"I could order you to tell me."
Nick laughed at him. "This isn't the army, Conrad. And since it's not even a real case, as you've made sure we knew that, you really have no authority to order me around."
Ecklie's eyes narrowed. This was the last thing his bad mood needed. He turned back to silently reading the rules.
302. Just because the lab gets the Playboy channel doesn't mean I can watch it. (Warrick's handwriting)
That made Ecklie smile. Only because, when he was a rookie, he had discovered that about their cable feed too. Back then he had been best friends with his CSI partner and they would sneak in to watch it on the morgue televisions. But after his best friend took a job in Chicago, that all ended.
303. "A full magazine and some privacy" is not the way to help a potential suicide. (Catherine's handwriting)
Yet another event that Ecklie was sure he didn't want to know about.
304. You are not allowed to use words over 5 syllables to impress suspects at crime scenes – even if they are exceptionally 'hot.' (Catherine's handwriting) Contributed by Mandi 96
That had to be Greg. He was too young to know better, and too old to get away with the crap he pulled.
305. "Here kitty, kitty," is not an appropriate thing to say while processing a brothel. (Catherine's handwriting)
Now there was a lawsuit waiting to happen.
306. Lab coats are not robes and clothes must be worn underneath them at all times. (Mandy's handwriting)
Did he want to know?
307. Corpses do not need to be read their Miranda rights. They relinquished all rights when they died. (Brass's handwriting)
Ecklie laughed.
"Which one?" Nick asked.
"Three hundred and nine."
"Ya know, Brass wrote that and Greg still does it. Just quieter."
Ecklie shook his head, reading the next one:
308. You will no longer sing, "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" whenever someone drops a corpse. (Robbins handwriting) Contributed by lady-lunastar
"What's with this one?"
"Apparently I'm never around when that happens, but you know it's got Greg written all over it."
Ecklie nodded, reading the next one.
309. Rocks are not sentient, therefore not alive, therefore rock evidence will not starve to death nor suffocate, and you do not need to rescue it. (Grissom's handwriting)
"Henry?" he asked Nick.
"Yep."
"He's a strange kid."
"You have no idea."
Ecklie looked back at Nick. "I don't?"
"You should see him outside of the office, man. He's really strange."
"How strange?"
"Well, he's known for wearing his shirts inside out, for no apparent reason. He skips. A lot. Makes his brother laugh every time he does it. And he goes hog wild over cotton candy. Never seen a grown man get so happy over cotton candy."
"Has he always been like that? I mean, before his parent's death?"
"Dunno. Never hung out with him until after his parents died. Although… I asked Jason once and he said yes. Not sure how reliable a seven-year-old's answer is though."
Ecklie read the next rule:
310. Acceptable attire includes reducing the length of your hair so it's not its own living entity. (Grissom's handwriting) Contributed by CSIGeekFan's daughter
"Who's hair?"
"Greg. Hadn't you noticed the last few months?"
"Guess I hadn't, really."
"He's growing it out so he can spike it for Halloween."
"Don't they have wigs for that?"
"You convince the crazy man that."
"Have better luck convincing a horse to drink water."
"Amen."
Nick walked up to the wall and started writing:
311. Under no circumstances am I allowed to shout at a fleeing suspect, "Stop! Or I'll stay stop again!"
"You… Actually did this?" Ecklie asked.
Nick looked over his shoulder. "Yeah. I thought it was a good call at the time."
"And Grissom didn't?"
"Brass."
Ecklie nodded, agreeing with Brass. He walked to a spot a few feet from Nick and wrote:
312. Imaginary games with imaginary friends in imaginary places are not permitted on city time.
"Which rat?"
"My three stooges."
"Our three stooges, don'tcha mean?
"I guess so."
Nick chuckled, and then wrote down:
313. Under the guise of teaching them how to say potentially useful phrases, I am no longer allowed teach rookies to say offensive and crude things in Spanish.
"Grissom?"
"Why do you keep think Grissom always tells me not to do this stuff?"
"Because between you and Greg, you're going to not just make his hair turn gray but fall out."
Nick looked up at Ecklie's head, and then smiled evilly.
"Don't say it," Ecklie warned him.
"But, Ecklie, you—"
"Don't say it, Stokes."
Nick chuckled. Ecklie turned back to the wall, writing:
314. Your supervisor has neither the time, nor the inclination, to hear about what you did with six boxes of Fruit Roll-Ups® and toothpicks.
"Archie?" Nick asked.
Ecklie heaved a heavy, deep sigh. "Bobby."
"Okay… Is it just me or is Bobby just as weird as Henry?"
"Since I don't know Henry, I'll have to go with your decision on this one."
"Fine. They're weird. I'd hate to get them both drunk."
"Oh God!" Ecklie cried.
Nick started laughing as he wrote:
315. You are not allowed to use the crime scene restroom.
"For Greggo."
"That was years ago."
"I know. But still for Greggo."
Ecklie smirked when Nick looked up at him. "For my graveyard CSI." He wrote:
316. There are no crime scenes that need 'recreated' by racing wheelchairs through any hall in any part of the building.
317. Nevada is not to be referred to as 'California's Smoking Section' under ANY context.
"Hey, we had to recreate the hospital suicide to scale."
"The hospital suicide? What?"
"Yeah. Yeah. When you caught us, we were recreating the hospital suicide guy."
"And I ask again, what?"
"This guy was clinically depressed; he'd been trying to kill himself for months but kept screwing it up. So the last time he woke up in the hospital, he took a wheelchair, aimed it down a hall with a window at the end, and started rolling. Went right out the window and down four floors."
"Did he succeed this time?"
"Yeah. But we were having a hard time figuring out how it happened. And then you stopped us."
Ecklie pressed his lips into a thin line. "As I wrote, no crime scene needed that recreation. And, as I recall, you and your four partners in crime, were not re-creating a crime scene. I distinctly recall hearing you five talking about winning the wheel chair championship."
Nick stared at him. Ecklie crossed his arms.
"Nothing to say?"
"I don't call Nevada 'California's Smoking Section.'"
"Yes you do!"
"I do not."
"I have three newspaper articles I can show you being quoted saying it."
Nick grimaced. "They quoted me?"
Ecklie laughed. "No. But you just admitted you said it."
"You're a jerk."
"So you keep telling me."
"I'm changing the subject." Nick wrote:
318. When responding to a crime scene involving a canine attack, "Werewolves of London" is not to be played on repeat the entire round trip.
"Greg?"
"Why does everything have to be Greg? No. Warrick."
"I think I just mentioned how Greg does the most damage. And Warrick?"
"Oh yeah. Thankfully we don't have many calls with lawyers, he likes to play 'Lawyers, Guns and Money' to those calls, and back from those calls."
"Warrick?"
"You have no idea what that man is capable of with lack of sleep and lots of sugar."
"Just sugar?"
"The last time we had an issue with this," Nick pointed at his rule. "Four Mountain Dews, six Snickers, three pints of Ben and Jerry's later, I was about ready to lock him in a small room just to watch him bounce.
"This must've been after the divorce."
"That was eight months ago, this was Monday night."
"Ouch. Which Ben and Jerry's?"
"He started on Chunky Monkey™, moved to Half Baked™, and finished off with Phish Food™."
"And washed it all down with Mountain Dew?"
"Yeah."
"Gross." Ecklie wrote:
319. You will not perform the conga through ALL the halls when all lab results point to the five or more suspects. From PigXiaolin101's suggestion
"Where was I when this happened?"
"Your day off. During the day shift."
"Wait, you can't put rules down for day shift. They don't come in here." Nick hesitated, looking up at him. "Do they?"
"Nope. But I'd rather not catch anyone doing it."
"It wasn't even a little funny?"
"Funny, yes, but it scared the straights."
Nick busted out laughing, which made Ecklie smile. It also made him have to realizations: he was in a much better mood now, and this was the longest conversation he'd ever had with Nick Stokes – which made him wonder why that was.
"I never once expected that to come out of your mouth, Ecklie. You really are different down here."
Ecklie's smile waned a little. He looked down at the chalk in his hand.
"Well, I guess…" Nick trailed off, and then wrote on the wall:
320. I am not allowed to shoot at, or otherwise cause bodily harm to, any clown even if I believe that clown to be possessed and must die.
Nick looked back when Ecklie didn't comment right away. He looked confused.
"What do you have against some poor schlump dressed up as a clown?"
"Clowns are evil."
"You watched 'It' too many times, didn't you?"
"No."
"Okay, then why?"
So Nick proceeded to, once again, explain why he hated clowns so much. And when he finished, Ecklie stared unblinking at him.
"Strangely, that story fits you, Nick."
"What does that mean?"
Ecklie smiled. "You'll figure it out." He headed for the door.
"Hey! Don't walk off without answering that! What does that mean?"
Ecklie stopped and spun, making Nick run into him. "Who is the mystery writer?"
Nick didn't answer.
"You tell me who the mystery writer is; I'll tell you what I meant."
Nick grinned. "You were a CSI. You'll figure it out."
Ecklie continued walking. Nick watched him a minute.
Suddenly Nick said, "Fine! I'll tell you. But only if you're buy lunch."
"Deal," Ecklie answered.
Ecklie glanced back, watching him hurry to get out of the room. He ran up to Ecklie and the two stared at each other a moment.
"First time we've talked outside of work. And The Wall," Nick said.
"Maybe we should have lunch at the hospital."
"Why?"
"We might have heart attacks."
Nick grinned. "Damn! I really had no idea you had a sense of humor."
Ecklie didn't reply as he looked away. There was a lot the CSI didn't know about him.