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Chapter 16

Greg scanned the apartment and his nose wrinkled at the stench. “How does he live like this?”

Vega kicked a couple of pizza boxes that were stacked near his feet and jumped when a couple of roaches came running out. “If anybody ever needed a visit by Kim and Aggie, this is the guy.”

Greg looked up quizzically, “Who are Kim and Aggie?”

“You’ve never seen that show?” Vega asked, surprised. “They’re the hosts of this show on BBC America called, ‘How Clean is Your House?’ They go into people’s dirty houses and teach them how important it is to keep things clean and how harmful the filth they live in is. I’ve seen some nasty shit on that show, but, you know, nothing this bad.”

Greg nodded, “Yeah, I thought my place was bad, now I don’t feel so bad about not making my bed.”

Vega shook his head. “You should always make your bed; it makes it more inviting when it comes time to go to sleep.”

Greg laughed, “When it’s time for me to go to sleep, nothing stands in my way. And if the bed isn’t made I don’t have to waste time un-tucking the sheets.” Greg cautiously stepped further into the apartment. “I guess there’s nothing else to do. I’ll call Nick, see if he can come over and give me a hand. This certainly isn’t a one person job.”

Vega backed toward the door. “Why don’t I go question the staff, see if Ms. Kennon was seen here recently. I can’t believe a woman would step foot in here, but money can move mountains, and obviously,” he gave the apartment a sour look, “it can render you blind also.”

Greg watched him leave and flipped open his phone.

Nick answered on the fifth ring. “Yeah, wha ya wan?” he mumbled.

Greg cleared his throat. “Uh, Nick? Sorry to wake you, dude, but, uh, I need your help, and Catherine did tell me to call you if I needed someone.”

Silence filled the next few seconds until, finally, “Okay, where do you need me?”

Relieved that Nick sounded better, Greg told him the address and hung up the phone. He knew Nick was going to exact a pound of flesh for this, Greg just hoped he’d be able to pay.

Nick stepped off the elevator and smothered a yawn. Nodding to the guard outside the door he stepped inside and froze in his tracks. “Greg!” he called. “Greg, where are you?”

Greg stepped out of the bathroom and grimaced at the look on Nick’s face. “Hey, yeah, I’m so sorry man, I-I know this looks bad, but with the two of us we’ll have it processed in no time.” He tried to smile convincingly.

Nick growled but snapped on a pair of gloves. “You owe me big. I don’t know what I’ll ask for yet, but you can bet it’s going to be big.”

Greg nodded. “Fair enough.” He pointed toward the bathroom. “I started in here, but if you want to take over, that’s fine.”

Nick glanced around. “Nah, man, this is fine. So, what are we looking for?” he asked, picking up a discarded sock from a nearby chair.

“Some idea of where the plastic tarp that was on top of the vic came from, for one. Any blood from the vic, showing she was here at some point, and generally anything to prove that Townsend killed the vic. I’m not picky.”

Nick nodded. “Okay, man, lets get to it.”

Grissom pulled apart the lettuce leaves and rinsed them before patting them dry and tearing them into smaller pieces for the bowl. Humming, he opened the refrigerator and brought out a bowl of chopped veggies. He scooped out a cup of the tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and mushrooms into the salad bowl and resealed the bowl, returning it to the top shelf.

Sara had taught him that little trick. As long as you were going to use them within a few days, it was easier to go ahead and pre-chop your preferred salad fixings, or at least the ones that wouldn’t get soggy. He chopped a boiled egg and tossed it in, as well as a handful of low fat cheddar cheese. Happy with his salad, he reached for the light Italian dressing, but hesitated. He felt like treating himself, so he reached for the blue cheese instead. Sara didn’t have to know. Arranging a few crackers on the plate beside the salad bowl, he grabbed a glass of tea, and headed up the steps to the couch.

Hank jumped up beside him and Grissom picked out a mushroom and fed it to him. Hank licked his lips and Grissom laughed. “Good thing mom isn’t here; she’d get onto both of us.”

Hank whined and jumped down.

“Sorry, buddy, I miss her too.” Grissom moved the salad around with his fork. “I wish she was here for so many reasons, but it’d really be nice to have someone to talk this case out with.” He looked down at Hank. “Mind if I talk it out with you?”

Hank cocked his head.

Grissom took that as a yes. “Okay, so, let’s see. So, we’ve got a killer who is killing woman of a certain type; professional, brunette with brown eyes, and unmarried. They also may have no family or limited contact with their family.”

Hank whined.

“Yes, I know, it sounds a lot like mom, but let’s keep that out of it for now. Now, at the last scene we found soil where the car the killer was driving might have been parked. We can’t be positive it’s the right one until Nick and Warrick get more to go on, but the fact that the soil had semen from four different men in it makes it stand out.”

Hank gave a little woof.

“I know, you’d think that would be a big break, but not so far. We ran them through CODIS and… nothing. That means that we’ll have to run them against every male suspect we question, which means we’ll have to get their permission because we can’t compel them to do it involuntarily.” Grissom sighed. “This is the most frustrating case; it may be more frustrating than the Miniature Killer.”

Hank growled.

“Yes, I know. That didn’t turn out well. Luckily, this time, mom isn’t here, and as much as I miss her, that might be for the best.” Grissom thought about the victim’s descriptions. That coupled with the killer contacting him personally really worried him.

Hank jumped up on the couch and snuggled up next to Grissom.

Grissom smiled. “Okay, I get it, enough case talk. Let’s see what we got in the mail,” he said, reaching forward to pick up some envelopes off the coffee table. He tossed aside the bills, he didn’t look at those until Saturday, the day he assigned for bill paying each month.

He sorted the rest of the mail, coming across a gold envelope. Frowning, he opened it. “I can’t believe I forgot about this,” he mumbled.

Hank put his paw on Grissom’s leg.

Grissom looked down. “I know, how could I forget?” he said, laying the envelope down, smiling. “This gives me an idea.” He picked his salad back up and took a big bite, looking down at Hank. “Mom’s going to love it.”

Greg yawned as he walked into the lab. It had taken the better part of the afternoon to dig through Townsend’s apartment, but in the end they had what they needed. The only thing left to do was confront him with the evidence.

He walked around the corner and found Warrick at the water fountain, swallowing a couple of pills. “Not feeling well,” Greg asked.

Warrick jumped. “Nah, man, just a headache.” Warrick turned and headed down the hall with Greg. “So, what’ve you got going on?”

“Ah, well, we’ve got enough to get our guy on the copy cat murder of that young woman, Donna Kennon.”

“You think he might be our guy for the other murders, too?” Warrick quizzed as the rounded the corner.

“I wish, but, no. This is looking like a crime of passion. If you want, you can watch from the observation room while we talk to him. I’m sure he has quite a story to explain away what we found.”

“No, I’d better get on finding that car.” Warrick sighed.

Greg shrugged. “Okay, see you later.”

Twenty minutes later Greg met Vega at PD. “Hey, Greg, you ready?”

Greg nodded. “Oh, yeah, I’m more than ready.”

Vega nodded. “Okay, we’re down here.” He pointed down the hall.

They headed into the interrogation room where Townsend waited.”

“You guys are really trying my patience.” Townsend started in the moment they entered the room.

“Well, I guess if you had more patience we wouldn’t be here,” Vega said as he sat opposite him.

“What does that mean?” Townsend sneered.

Vega ignored that. “So, we had an interesting trip this morning.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“You really are one messy guy, Townsend,” Greg answered. “You live in filth. You could at least hire a maid.”

Townsend frowned. “Oh, you’ve done it now. You had no right to go into my place.”

“Oh, but we did. You see, not only is your apartment sloppy, but so are you. You, my friend, left us the perfect excuse to search that pigsty you call a home,” Vega taunted.

Townsend shook his head. “You’re bluffing. I didn’t do anything, so you can’t put this on me.”

“You know- if you were cleaner, we might not have had anything, but, alas, that’s not the case.” Greg opened the file he’d brought in. He took out a copy of the fingerprint from the plastic sheet. “See, you were sloppy. This fingerprint, YOUR fingerprint,” he pulled out some pictures of Donna Kennon as she’d been when they found her, “on the plastic sheet her body was covered with.”

Townsend’s face drained of color.

“That fingerprint was in blood. A different type of blood then Donna Kennon’s. Now, we’re doing DNA testing on that blood. How much do you want to bet that it’s your blood?” Greg pressed.

“Why-why would I kill her?” Townsend asked, averting his eyes from the photo.

Greg took out a photocopy of a letter they’d found at Townsend’s apartment. “Because of this; a letter in which she tells you that she’s found a new sugar daddy, and that she can’t wait until she no longer has to feel…” Greg broke off, looking at Vega. “What did she say? Oh, yeah, ‘the touch of a Fat Bastard wannabe’, and she wouldn’t have to spend one more minute in that ‘slum pit’ you call home.”

Vega shook his head. “That was pretty harsh, man. I’d probably want to get back at her too, but, you went a step further.”

Greg took out another photocopy, this one of document between Townsend and his uncle, Mac Turner, giving Townsend part ownership in a race car. “We checked, the garage she was found in belongs to you, or to be more precise, your uncle and you.” Greg leaned forward. “You invited her out there on some pretext, and maybe she felt bad about the letter she wrote, so she went. Maybe she wanted to make things right. But you had other things in mind. An argument ensued, and you stabbed her with a screwdriver. But now you had a problem. Luckily for you there has been a serial killer going around killing young women. You knew enough details from the papers that you thought you could fake it. But cutting up a woman is hard work, and you cut yourself.”

Townsend crossed him arms.

“So, you thought you were okay. But what you didn’t know is that there were details left out of the papers. Details that let us know that you weren’t our serial, but a copycat, and a poor one at that.”

Townsend sputtered, “You can’t prove any of this!”

“I think we can.” Greg stood up.

“My uncle won’t let you get a way with this,” Townsend threatened.

“I think you overestimate your uncle,” Greg said, taking out a photocopy of another document. “He was the one Donna was leaving you for.”

Townsend’s face turned red as he studied the lease agreement signed by Max Turner and Donna Kennon. “I want my lawyer.”

Greg ginned, “Excellent decision.” Greg turned to leave.

Vega smiled. “I’m sure he’s a high paid guy who is completely loyal to the one who pays him.” Vega stopped and laughed. “On second thought, that might not be such a good thing.

Greg walked back into the lab smiling. They had Townsend dead to rights and the DNA results would be the nail in his coffin.

He passed by Grissom’s office and his good mood evaporated.

Grissom was sitting at his desk, smiling, and concentrating on his computer. Greg watched as he typed something and gave a little laugh.

Grissom looked up and caught Greg standing in the hall, a sneer on his face. He sighed, no time like the present to get to the bottom of Greg’s recent attitude. “Greg, can I see you for a minute?” he called.

With nothing to use as an excuse, Greg had no choice but to head into the office. “Did you want an update on the case?”

Grissom hesitated. “Yes, but first I think we need to talk. Greg, I know that I can be accused of living in my own world and not noticing what the people around me are feeling, but I can’t help but notice that you’ve been… upset with me. Can you tell me why?”

Greg stood there, looking sullen. He fought with himself. On the one hand, you shouldn’t blow up at your boss, on the other; his boss had just invited him to lay into him. Finally the sense of betrayal he felt at Grissom’s seeming lack of concern for Sara made the decision for him. “Fine, you want to know the problem, I’ll tell you the problem.” Greg paced as he talked. “You know, you’re right. You don’t notice the people around you. Sara had been going down hill for the last few months, and I noticed it, knew that she was having problems, but, you know, I figured you had too. That you and she were dealing with it together and you’d make sure she got the help she needed. You guys have this relationship for months, keeping it a secret from us, and, you know, Sara is my best friend, and I Just want her to be happy, and if you made her happy, well, I was happy, but now it seems that you didn’t do that…” He came to a stop when Grissom stood up.

“Greg, I think you’re veering from the subject at hand. I know that you and Sara are close, but there are some things that you don’t know. Things about her life, her family… Yes, I admit that I was in denial about what’s been happening. I was just so damn happy that she escaped from the hell that Natalie Davis put her through, I just wanted to celebrate having her with me. I didn’t care that you guys knew that we were together, or what would happen with Ecklie… I hated that Sara had to move to swing, hated not seeing her every day, and I guess that’s really why I didn’t notice anything. Our schedules were different, we didn’t see all that much of each other, and when we were able to see each other, well, I only saw what I wanted to see, and she made sure of that. God do I wish that I had seen something, understood more of what she was going through, but even if I had, I don’t know if I could have stopped this from happening. Sara needs to work through some things, and as much as I would love for her to be here, she has to be where she is right now.” Grissom sat down.

Greg was speechless; he’d never known Grissom to say so much at once about his feelings.

Grissom continued. “Now, I’ve been in touch with Sara and she wants to talk to you guys, I think she plans on calling you soon and I’ll leave it to her to explain more about why she left. It’s not my place to say anything.” He finished and smiled at Greg. “If you want, you can stay mad at me, I know you won’t allow it to interfere with work. I do hope you can see my side though, and know that I would never do anything to deliberately hurt Sara.”

Greg cleared his throat, his mind racing. Finally, he smiled. “I guess I can see your point. I never really thought about it from your perspective. It makes sense that you would… concentrate on the good, and how that might lead to you missing the bad. Tell Sara… tell her that she can call me anytime.”

Grissom nodded. “I will.” Grissom coughed, changing subjects. “So, how’s your case going?

Greg grinned. This was the Grissom he knew. “Great, we caught the guy. He killed her, panicked, and tried to make it look like our serial.

Grissom nodded. “I wish our case was going as well. Good job, Greg.” He waved to the door. “Go on; wrap up what you need to. We may need your help later.”

Greg nodded. “Okay, thanks for the talk. See you later.”

Grissom watched Greg leave. “Well, Sara, you’d be proud of me,” he whispered. He turned to the computer. “Now, what am I getting you for Christmas?”

TBC..