Chapter 7

Tuesday, September 5th, 2006
8:49 AM

"A man dies of natural causes. Someone steals his corpse, kidnaps his widow and lights their bodies up over a funeral pyre. The family doesn't notice their mother is missing. The funeral home doesn't report a missing corpse. The victims' neighbors haven't seen anything suspicious. How does that happen?"

"Well, Vega said he was only able to talk to a couple of the neighbors, and the ones he spoke to lived a few houses down. It seems a lot of people were away for the weekend."

Nick tapped on the steering wheel as he drove, bits of information running through his head. He spent long hours the night before, thinking about the case, and the more he thought about it, the more things didn't make any sense. Who burns a widow on her husband's corpse? It may be an old Indian custom, but it was inhumane. He wondered what kind of Karma would befall a person who'd commit such an act. He sighed, just wishing he knew something. He glanced over at Catherine. Her elbow was resting on the door, and her head was resting on her open palm as she sat, looking at him. He shook his head, demanding his thoughts to return to their conversation. "It is a long weekend. Still, it had to have happened during the day. I arrived at the crime scene just before eight on Sunday and the fire hadn't been out for long. Ashley Donaldson said they spoke to their mother Sunday morning when she hung up on them."

"Maybe she wasn't taken from her home. I didn't see any signs of struggle at her home. You finished processing that house last night. Did you find anything?"

"No. Apart from the watering can laying on its side and some dirt scattered about in front of the flower bed, I didn't see anything else." It bothered him that he hadn't found anything out of place in the house. It bothered him that the only thing out of place had been a watering plant. It bothered him that Doris Fletcher may have possibly been taken from the front of the house, on a Sunday afternoon, from a quiet suburb, and no one, not even the neighbors a few doors down, had seen anything. It bothered him that Doris Fletcher had simply disappeared without anyone noticing.

"Well the dirt could have been from watering the plants."

He glanced over at Catherine before facing forward again to watch the road. He shrugged, not convinced of Catherine's line of thought. "She was a tidy person. I doubt she'd leave the watering can out."

"She was grieving, Nick. Sometimes people who grieve do some things obsessively, and other times, that same person might forget what she's doing altogether or lose interest in it and just walk away."

Nick looked at her, his expression moving from curiosity to sympathy. Catherine would know what it meant to grieve, in a way he couldn't yet understand and hoped he'd never have to. He sighed. "You're right. She might have stopped caring what she was doing and left it out. So, if she wasn't taken from her home, where does that leave us?"

"The funeral home?" Catherine's head came off her hand. She sat up, facing him. "They didn't report a missing corpse. Maybe she went to see her dead husband and something happened that resulted in her death."

"That resulted in burning her alive over her husband's corpse?" He glanced over at her, incredulously.

"You don't think morticians are capable of something so morbid?"

Another sigh escaped his mouth as he thought back to other morticians, falsifying death certificates and selling diseased organs for transplant. "Well, our past experiences with people in that profession haven't been so great. I guess it's a good thing we're on our way to the funeral home then."

They pulled up in front of the building. A short man showing the beginning signs of balding, somewhere in his mid 40's, was pacing about on the lawn in front of the building. Nick stepped out of the truck and strolled over towards the man. "I'm Nick Stokes, this is Catherine Willows," he held out is arm to indicate Catherine. "We're with the Crime Lab."

The man momentarily stopped his pacing and began fidgeting on the spot. "Oh, I just called the police. I didn't expect you to arrive so quickly."

"Excuse me?"

"I've been broken into."

Nick turned to Catherine and shot her a puzzled look. He turned back to the still frantically pacing man. "Can you tell us when this happened, Mr.?"

"Blackley. Jacob Blackley. I own this place. It must have happened sometime over the weekend. I don't know. My family and I went away for the long weekend. I came in this morning and the door was partially open. The doorknob is broken; so is the lock."

"You say you were away all weekend?"

"Yes. We were in Yosemite. One last camping trip before the kids go back to school."

"Do you have any receipts to verify this?"

The man looked at him, forehead scrunched and confusion crossing his features. "Sure. I think I have some in my car. Can you excuse me for a moment?"

"Yes, Sir." Nick watched the man leave before turning to Catherine. "The mortuary was broken into?"

"Explains why they didn't report a missing corpse." Catherine pulled out her phone. "He said he just phoned the police. If they called it in, there's probably somebody from days headed out here right now. I'm calling the lab to tell them we think it's related to our case and not to bother sending someone."

"Good idea. You can deal with Ecklie."

Catherine scrunched her face and Nick let out a chuckle. He watched her dial the lab and place the phone next to her ear. Looking towards the street, he watched as Vega pulled up behind their vehicle. He walked towards the detective.

"Hey, I just heard over the radio that the owner reported a break-in here."

"Yeah, we heard. Catherine's calling the lab and letting them know that they don't need to send anybody out."

Vega nodded. "I radioed in and told dispatch that I was here and responding."

Jacob Blackley approached them holding a handful of receipts. He thrust them at Nick. Nick took the pile and watched as the man eyed Vega. "Mr. Blackley, this is Detective Vega. Now, you were in Yosemite over the weekend?"

"Yes. We just got back last night."

"Where did you stay?"

"Yosemite Pines."

"Where is that, exactly?"

"Near the West entrance, by Groveland, Old Hwy 120." Jacob Blackley began to pace again.

"Were you camping with anyone apart from your family?"

"No."

"I'll fax his driver's license photo to Modesto, and see if they can get someone to the resort to confirm." Nick looked over at Vega and nodded.

"What's going on? Why aren't you investigating this break-in?"

He turned back to the nervous little man, still pacing, though his paces were getting shorter and shorter. The man was nearly spinning in circles. Nick watched him, feeling almost dizzy. "We are, Sir. We just need to confirm that you were out of town."

Jacob Blackley stopped and faced him. "Well I was. What's this about?"

Catherine reappeared at that moment. Nick watched as Jacob Blackley's eyes scanned over Catherine as she moved next to him. "Mr. Blackley, have you been inside yet?"

"Yes, I walked through quickly."

"Anything out of place?"

"No, but I want my lock fixed and I want to find out who broke into my funeral home."

"Are you sure that you aren't missing anything?"

"No. I don't understand what's going on. I come back from a camping trip to find my place of business broken into and you aren't investigating. There is a funeral service taking place in the chapel in a couple of hours. I would like some answers."

"Do you often close your funeral home when you're planning a funeral service?"

"The funeral is already set and ready to go. There are only a few things I need to do this morning. We were going to have it last Thursday, but the Widow Fletcher wanted to wait until this week. Her youngest son and daughter-in-law were in South America and she didn't think they'd make it back in time for a Thursday funeral, so she made it for today. She was fine with the mortuary being closed. My family had our Yosemite reservations for a year now. We always close on the long weekend. I left keys with my brother in case any of the Fletcher family wanted or needed to get in. Speaking of which, the family should be arriving soon. What am I going to tell them?"

"They won't be coming in."

"Lester and Doris Fletcher's bodies were found in the desert Sunday evening."

"What?"

"When you walked through the funeral home, you didn't notice a body was missing?"

"I walked through quickly. Mr. Fletcher's casket was where it was supposed to be. I didn't think to look inside. Who would steal a dead body?"

The man looked incredulous and all Nick could think was who indeed. Their case was becoming more warped by the minute. Whoever was responsible, and he wasn't ruling Jacob Blackley out just yet, was either psychic, extremely well prepared, or had an incredible sense of timing. He shook his head. Catherine stood beside him, shaking hers. "Mr. Blackley, Detective Vega is going to ask you a few more questions. We're going to go inside and see what we can find."

Vega led Jacob Blackley away. Nick turned to Catherine. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. This is just too messed up. It's too random."

"Well, so far, Blackley's story checks out. He gave me a pile of receipts from his trip. If the door was only open a crack, it could have gone unnoticed all weekend."

"Which could be why nobody else reported the break-in. I'll check the door."

He nodded and let out a long breath. "I guess I'll start dusting."

1:13 PM

"Hey Cath?"

She looked up to see Nick standing over her, clutching his kit in his hand. He shifted from foot to foot and she stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Nick kept shifting on his feet, regarding her with a strange expression on his face. She furrowed her brow. "Yes?"

"I was, uh, wondering if you were ready to head back to the lab."

"Are you?"

Nick placed his kit on the floor and bent down next to her. Her puzzled gaze remained on him, wondering why he was crouching down next to her. "Something wrong, Catherine?"

"No, why?"

"You've been sitting here for a half hour, without moving."

She looked down at herself. Nick was right. She was sitting, cross-legged on the floor of the foyer and she wasn't sure how long she'd been there. Her gloved hands held onto the broken brass lock from the door. She hated that she'd been caught looking so vulnerable, when normally she was so composed and normally appearing to be a tower of strength. She tried to assuage Nick of any notions he might have about her state of mind. "I was studying the lock."

"I see."

She'd spoken very confidently, far more confidently than she'd felt, yet Nick wasn't buying it. She should have known he wouldn't. He was a sensitive guy, and very good at reading people's emotions. Suddenly she felt very uncomfortable under Nick's watchful gaze, knowing he hadn't believed her words any more than she did. Truth was, what began as studying the object, had morphed into something else. She'd been under a spell. Her eyes had moved from being fixated on the deadbolt, to being fixated on Lester Fletcher's empty casket. She'd been imagining the pain Doris Fletcher had experienced just prior to dying and feeling sickened by it. She'd seen a lot of disturbing things in her years as a criminalists, but to think that what had occurred in this case was a cultural or religious practice and not seen as deviant in another place, and hopefully, what was another time, both saddened her, and lent her the overwhelming relief that she lived in a society that found these things as horrifying as she did. Even Vegas and its loose ideas of morality couldn't condone the practice, and she thanked God for that.

Staring at the casket, she couldn't help but feel so, so lucky that she'd never had to experience what Doris Fletcher never should have had to experience. She was a woman and as a woman, any practices or any violence women were subjected to because of their sex both disturbed and angered her. What's more, in a way, she was a widow too, though divorced before Eddie had died. While the circumstances behind their break-up and behind Eddie's death were so completely unique to them, Catherine couldn't help but to think of how things would be if that experience had happened within a different society. A society that would burn a widow over her husband's corpse surely wouldn't have allowed for a divorce, and had she been part of that foreign and past society, Eddie's mistakes may very well have led to a similar fate.

"Cath, are you sure you're alright?"

Nick's voice stirred her from her thoughts, yet again. She stood up. "Yeah," and in an attempt to change the direction of the conversation, she continued, "I think the print dust is getting to me. How much powder did you use?"

It was a lame excuse but Nick seemed fine with the change in conversation, no doubt knowing she didn't like to be pressed. She sighed in relief when he began to speak. "Quite a bit. I lifted tons of prints, enough to keep Mandy busy for days. I may have to pick her up some coffee and maybe something to eat, just to get her to run them all. Hodges and Wendy are going to love me too. Between tape lifts and fibers and hair I picked up with my tweezers, they both have lots of work in front of them."

"Good." She nodded and Nick fidgeted.

"So, you ready to go?"

"You go ahead. I'll get Metcalf to take me over to PD. I want to speak with Vega and see if he got anything from the local businesses or from Blackley's brother. Can you take my evidence back for me?"

"Sure thing. Give me a call when you're done at PD?"

She nodded. "I'll let you know what Vega found. Thanks Nicky."

"Anytime."

She gave him a parting smile, turning back to look at the empty casket. The sounds of Nick's footprints faded away and she was left, all alone, within the walls of the funeral home. It was so quiet and eerie. Her body quivered. She took a deep breath, and headed out the door, watching the lab's truck turn the corner of the street.

3:17 PM

Catherine pulled out her phone and sighed when her call went to voicemail. "Hey Nick. According to Vega, none of the surrounding businesses noticed any activity around Blackley's Mortuary all weekend. Vega spoke to Blackley's brother, Elijah, and he stated that he hadn't been called to the funeral home for any reason. He didn't check on the place at all while his brother was away. Elijah Blackley did confirm that Jacob Blackley did leave him a key to the place. Break-in must have happened at night. Vega hasn't been able to locate any witnesses. I'm on my way back to the lab now."

She closed the phone and leaved against the hallway walls, closing her eyes. She opened them again and from the corner of her eye, saw a familiar figure duck into an office. That figure was just the distraction she needed and she welcomed the temporary reprieve talking to him would bring. Smiling, she stood up and moved down the hall to the office door. She knocked, but didn't bother to wait for an answer before opening the door. "Jim, what are you doing at work? Couldn't keep away, could you?"

Brass's face lit up. His smile turned to a smirk. "And miss seeing you hanging around here?"

"Shouldn't you be at home, resting?"

"You know me, can't stay away." Brass shrugged. "I've gotten enough rest all summer."

"Which is why you were in the hospital again last week."

"They were just checking up on me."

"Then why did you have to stay over night?"

She was pushing, but she didn't care. Catherine fixed Brass with a stare that warned him that he'd better be straight up with her. Sitting across from him, and leveling him with her best glare, she waited for him to speak. Brass sighed. "Alright, I may have pushed it a little too hard over the summer, but I'm fine now, Catherine."

"Are you? You were shot and you didn't give yourself enough time to recover."

"I'm alright. I'll be pulling desk duty for a couple of weeks here, but I'm okay." She nodded, her face relaxing into a smile.

"Good. That's good."

"Thanks for caring, Catherine."

"I'll always care, Jim."

It was silent for a moment, awkwardly so. Finally Brass spoke. "How are things at work?"

"Rough. Nick and I pulled a really rough case. I have another rough one open with Warrick. He's been working on it and not getting anywhere, and Grissom and Greg…"

"I heard about Grissom's case. Sofia and Grissom have both filled me in on that one."

"Yeah, well, it's been a rough week. Listen, I've got to head back to the lab, try to get Nick to go home and get some rest while we wait for our evidence to be processed, but if there's anything you need…"

"I'll let you, and the ten others who offered, know."

She smiled, letting out a small chuckle. "Yeah, right. Anyways, take it easy." She stood and turned, heading out of the office. Pausing in the doorway, she turned back, giving Brass another smile before leaving. It had felt good talking to him. The five minutes in his office, seeing him back behind his desk, was just what she needed to clear out all the emotions pummeling her consciousness. They'd return soon enough, but for the moment, at least she'd gotten a little peace.