39) The Divorce
Catherine started a little when Morgan Brody leaned in, practically sitting on the stool with Catherine. The young woman looked around them, as if she were looking for someone to hide from.
"Hey Catherine," Morgan said.
"Hey."
Morgan looked down at the report in Catherine's hand, and then looked her in the eye.
"I was practically raised in this building."
Catherine hesitated. Statements like that usually didn't lead to good endings. She chose to remain silent until she knew where this was going.
"I mean, my dad was a CSI when I was still in middle school. Before the divorce."
Another bad topic. Catherine remained silent.
"Do you know that?"
Catherine did.
"So I know all sorts of things about this building. The court house was originally built on this spot, did you know that? They hung people here before they moved the court house downtown. And then they built this place, right on top of where they murdered people."
"I'm sure Greg would love to know that."
"Would he?"
"He's a Las Vegas history buff."
Morgan smiled. "I'll have to share all that with him. Should be fun. So back to this building."
"Yes?"
"As I was saying, I know all sorts of things about this building. Did you know that there's a corner in the attic that some homeless guy has been living for the last twenty-one years. I checked when I got back and it doesn't look like he's been there for a while. Probably died."
"Probably."
"And before the parking garage was built, there was a stone guard shack in the back. Do you remember that?"
"Yes."
"I made out in that shack I don't know how many times."
"I didn't need to know that."
Morgan smiled. "And in the basement, behind the morgue, there's this crawl space that you can catch a good nap and no one can find you."
"I see."
"And in the records room…" Morgan let the words trail off, grinning at Catherine.
Catherine's stoic expression hid the sinking feeling in her stomach. Morgan had found The Wall. The Crew was not going to like that.
"There's a door behind some filing cabinets down there. A couple friends and I moved the cabinets in front of the door so no one would find it. So you can imagine my surprise when I went down there for a break and discovered people had found it. And moved into it. And then yesterday, someone installed a shiny new lock on the door."
"What?" Catherine asked, and immediately regretted letting on that she knew about the room.
"Right?" Morgan said, not acting the least bit surprised. "So who would put a lock on that room?"
"I don't…" Catherine looked away. She could see Greg, Sara, Bobby, and Hodges. Could it have been one of them?
"Catherine," she heard Ecklie say behind her.
She turned. He stood behind her with his arms crossed and looked angry.
"Morgan, can you excuse us," Catherine said.
Morgan left without a word.
Ecklie leaned on a table and lowered his voice. "There is a lock on The Wall door. Why?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't know anything about it?"
"No."
"Find out for me, will you?"
"Me?"
"Yes. You. Find out." Ecklie left.
Catherine looked back across the lab. Who would have locked up The Wall?
#
Catherine walked into Ecklie's office and sat down in a chair. He was working on his computer and didn't even glance at her.
"Can I help you?"
"I called a Crew meeting and I know why there's a lock on the door, but as for who put it on, no one will confess."
He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Ecklie finally looked at her.
"So why is there a lock on the door?"
"The Wall Crew wants to divorce you."
Ecklie stared at her, not sure if he'd even heard her right. He turned so he could face her.
"I'm sorry?"
"Me too."
"No, I mean, I don't think I heard you correctly."
"You did, Conrad. The others think you need to be removed from the Crew. They've been feeling it for a while, I guess, but with what happened to Ray, all the changes you've implemented, hiring Russell without announcing it so other people could apply for my job, and you're 'I don't give a shit' attitude about it all, they don't trust you anymore and want a divorce."
"You can't just divorce someone from The Wall Crew. I… That doesn't even make sense!"
"It does if you know how mad they are with you."
"They all feel this way? Even Robbins, David, and Gina."
"They didn't object; I'd assume so."
"Are you mad at me?"
"You demoted me without any warning. What the hell do you think?"
"I—Well—You were out of line with how everything was handled on the Haskell case, Catherine."
She glared. "You know damn well I had nothing to do with any of that mess. I tried to keep my CSI in line, but Haskell knew exactly how to stir them up and make everyone react just the way he wanted them to."
"Try. That's the problem. You only tried, and that's why you were demoted. You should have been firing people instead of enabling them to run off to Los Angeles, buy guns, and kill escaped felons. And now you let this happen?"
"I didn't let this happen. I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd wanted to. You created this mess. Own up to it!"
"I am the Under Sheriff. If you people think you can just cut me out of this, I will make you pay."
"Great speech, Conrad. That's sure to earn their trust back and your acceptance back into the Wall Crew."
Ecklie stood up, snarling, "That group wouldn't even exist if I hadn't backed them up and hid The Wall from everyone else, Catherine!"
"Threats will not resolve this, Conrad."
"The hell they won't! Either I'm back in or The Wall is over! I will not be pushed out like this!"
"You can't—"
"Oh yes I can. I am the Under Sheriff. If I want that damned room sealed up, I sure as hell can do it! And that is exactly what I'll do if they don't change their minds!"
Catherine stared at him with such a long, hard glare that he began to feel it after a few minutes. After five minutes he sank back into his chair. He tried to defend his position but that angry motherly stare killed any words that attempted to escape. Finally he sat quiet and still, waiting for her to speak.
"I wish Gil were here. He was always better at situations like this," Catherine began.
Ecklie opened his mouth and she held up a hand, and then slowly lowered it.
"First of all, you are behaving like a child. Just because the other children on the playground do not want to play with you doesn't mean you should throw a tantrum. I—"
"I am the Under Sheriff. I—"
"Stop. Talking."
And he did.
"Second of all, I have already given them the opposite side of that speech. They should have spoken to me or you before putting a lock on a door, but that's behind us. They need time to calm down before we even touch the idea of you coming back into the group."
"No. I—"
"You are interrupting me again."
His jaw wagged with silent words and then he closed it.
"I warned them that this would cause fallout on both sides and this was bad karma for The Wall. And I'm warning you of the same. However, if you feel you need to order the room sealed up, then that's what you'll do, I guess, but if you think that's the end of The Wall or the Wall Crew, you are sorely mistaken. The Wall is just a room, an extension of the Crew. If you are so immature that you have to seal it up rather than be shut out until everyone's wounds heal, fine. We will find another Wall. But I can promise you, Conrad, that when we do, you will never be invited back again. You will burn that bridge plus all the nails that held it together." Catherine stood. "So decide, Conrad, but decide wisely. Whatever choice you make will be the final words to this argument."
She walked out, leaving him to stewing in his anger. Ecklie gritted his teeth, glaring at his computer. He stood up, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.
"This is Under Sheriff Ecklie. I need…" He stopped. Ecklie sighed and rubbed his face. "Never mind." He hung up. He rapped his fingers on the desk. Ecklie snatched up the receiver and dialed a number. "Under Sheriff Ecklie again. I need to put a work order for building maintenance."
#
Catherine sighed as she walked off the elevator, offering a weary smile to Robbins who was waiting for her. The two began a slow stroll down the hall together
"Sorry I had to wake you," Robbins told her.
"That's okay. Is everyone here?"
He nodded.
"How are they taking it?"
He shook his head. She sighed.
"I guess I should have expected this," she said.
"I guess we should have."
The two entered records and headed down the aisle to the back. They found the Wall Crew standing in a tight group, staring at the freshly constructed cinder-block wall that covered the door and permanently sealed off The Wall.
The crew didn't speak.
They didn't joke.
They just stared.
Catherine turned when a hand rested on her shoulder. She was surprised to see Morgan but returned her smile anyway.
"I'm sorry he did this," she told Catherine, and the group. "He never took rejection well."
"I'd say," Hodges growled. "I take it better than this."
"I did get to see inside before it was sealed up. You guys spent a lot of time in there, didn't you?"
Several of the Crew nodded.
"If you want, I know another place you could start over."
No one spoke for a long time. Nick turned to her.
"Where?"
"Follow me."
She led them out of records and into the morgue. To even Robbins' surprise, she showed them a door at the back of the locker room that had been forgotten. It was inside a cage that was filled with boxes of supplies that had also been forgotten. The door opened wide enough for her and Sara, but the men had to move the supplies around to make it open wide enough for the rest of them. There was a hall behind the door with bulbs in protective cages overhead. The lights were on, but most of the bulbs were burned out. The hall was lined with forgotten boxes, some brooms, a ladder, and outdated office equipment. She led them about a hundred feet to a set of rickety wood stairs. The hall, however, continued on past the stairs, disappearing into the darkness beyond the dim light.
Morgan started up the stairs.
"Stay on the boards or you'll fall through the ceiling tiles. And be quiet. People below can hear you," Morgan whispered over her shoulder.
The message was whispered back down the line. The top of the stairs came to a small wood platform. A board walk ran in two directions away from it. The walk was suspended from eye hooks in the ceiling and made with two by fours, pieces of rope, and a variety of objects serving as stick. It had been put sloppily put together with nails and screws. It looked even more dangerous than the stairs. Morgan stepped on the one to her right and started walking. One by one, the crew followed her. The way was lit by small points of light coming up from below where the acoustic ceiling tiles didn't fit neatly into the aluminum railings.
"Where in the hell are we?" Brass whispered.
"The attic," Morgan whispered back.
"Have these boards always been up here?" Greg asked.
"No. When I was 10, my best friend Karen and I spent an entire summer building this walkway. We nearly fell through the ceiling a few times!"
"Where does it go?"
"Over there, to the attic of the old courthouse."
They all saw her arm raise, but it was too dark to see where she was pointing. They focused on staying on the narrow boards, and getting across air ducts and I.T. cages holding hundreds of miles of cables. The walkway arrived at a short wooden access door that opened into an attic. The attic space was lit by a couple light bulbs and large. They could see from where they stood several doors around them. Two were marked STAIRS, and one was marked JANITOR.
In a normal voice she told them, "This is the only part of the old courthouse that was kept. No one can hear you up here. Come on."
She led them across the expanse to one of the doors. There was a bright pink hand print on the door, about the size of a 10-year-old girl. Morgan produced a skeleton key and unlocked and opened the door. A breath of cool air rushed out at them. She walked inside, motioning them to follow.
"Last one in shut the door, otherwise it will get hot in here," Morgan told them.
The Wall Crew followed her in and bunched together as they assessed the room they had been brought. Morgan flopped into an oversized blue chair and watched them.
The room was twice as large as the old Wall had been. There was no writing on the wall, refrigerator, or microwave, but there was a motley collection of furniture. In the center of the room was an old wooden poker table that had worn felt. An unfinished card game coated with a fine layer of dust was on it. Throw rugs of varying stages of neglect covered the wood floor. The walls were just studs with no insulation and had various 90s posters tacked to them.
At the top of the wall that peaked with the roof was a grimy octagon window with lead framing and green-blue hued warped glass in it. It didn't. It looked out over the neighbors, not providing much of a view, and probably provided light during the day time. Right now, however, the light came from the dozen light bulbs on the high ceiling. The cages had been removed and lampshades replaced them.
"Is the way we came the only way up here?" Catherine asked.
"Nope. There are five ways, three of which you will definitely not be seen. That's one of those ways."
"Ecklie is going to be pissed if he finds out we started another Wall without him," Greg told them.
"Oh no!" Morgan sprang to her feet. "That is the only condition if you guys come up here; you are never, under any circumstances, even if it means life or death, to tell my father about this room. I have kept this place secret for seven years, so if you guys screw that up I will become your worst nightmare!"
Sara grinned at the others. "I think we just found a new Wall and Wall Crew member."
They agreed.
"But we have to fix the walls. We can't write rules that wood. We'll never see it," David pointed out.
Morgan sat n the arm of her chair. "I saw all that writing in there. What was the deal with that?"
The Wall Crew sat down around the room and began the story of The Wall – it's beginnings, it's trials, about the rules, why it meant so much to them. And when they finished, they were silent.
"Does anyone even remember what number we were on?" Nick asked.
Sara sat up straight. "Yes! Grissom kept a photo journal of the room and had me send photographs every time something new was added. I have it up to the week before last."
"Send me the photographs," Morgan told her.
"What for?"
Morgan shrugged. "I have a plan too. Now look, from experience I can tell you that the only time you can do anything noisy up here is late night Friday and Saturday. The administrative offices are below us so there's rarely anyone here then."
"We're the graveyard shift," Nick reminded her. "I'm sure that's not a problem."
"I'm not graveyard," Gina argued.
"You're just weird," Bobby told her.
She made a face at him, but then smiled.
The group began planning their renovations…
#
AUTHORS NOTE: Nope. No rules this chapter. Those return in the next chapter! :-)