Writer's notes: Ok, I can't seem to stop typing. Here's my foray away from Star Wars and into CSI. This work is purely fictional and any resemblence to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The genre is owned by one of the networks and this story seeks no profit, real or imagined, other than to entertain. Places depicted are real, but no inference of any kind should be drawn by their inclusion in the story and they are added only for the purpose of giving flavor to the fic.
Be warned, there are mature themes, but nothing graphic. We do seek to portraya crime in a somewhat realistic manner. The story begins with Gil Grissom and then introduces some original characters.
McCoy Pavillion at Ala Moana Park - Monday
In a dark auditorium, a man droned on while Powerpoint slides flashed gruesome images across a viewscreen. Another man in the audience sat, adjusting his glasses, sipping a cup of warm Verona Blend, taking occasional notes in a scrawling script. This man, Gil Grissom, is a senior CSI with the Las Vegas Sheriffs Department, but today, he is visiting sunny Honolulu for a conference. Grisson is a man well into middle age with a trimmed beard and a fatherly, scholarly look. He is a quiet, contemplative man, who speaks with a thoughtful, measured speech, weighing his words like he would a specimen.
The conference Grissom is at covers the evidentiary aspects of cold case homicides and is sponsored by the State Attorney Generals Office. A unique event, it is well attended by investigators from around the country. The speaker is a Special Agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, or NCIS, and he was discussing the finer aspects of trace evidence.
"In this particular case, we were able to match carpet fibers from the victim to the subject's vehicle. The triangular shape of the fiber was unique to the Honda Prelude from Nineteen Ninety Nine to Two Thousand and Three."
Gil bumped his eyebrows up while pursing his lips. He then yawned briefly, the jet lag still having an effect on his system. As he got older, flying commercial air became harder on the body, but a well-earned trip to paradise compensated for it somewhat and at least he was set up at the Hilton Hawaiian Village.
Arriving the previous day, Sunday, Gil checked in and went directly to his room, and put his meager belonging away. He folded his clothing neatly into the teak drawers, separating them by type – underwear here, socks there, tee shirts elsewhere.
From his room, Gil gave his friend and sponsor, Detective Taniguchi, a quick call to let him know of his safe arrival. Taniguchi asked him if he would want to go…see Waikiki, but Gil politely declined, preferring a quiet evening.
The CSI opened the heavy curtains to see the long, white beach of Waikiki and the blue water beyond. He flicked the tv on and scanned the channels, searching for anything interesting. With a shrug, he shut the tube off and tossed the remote onto his bed.
Feeling famished, Gil changed to go get a meal. For the trip, he brought his one and only aloha shirt, a tent-like garment of yellow and blue with flowers and ti leaves printed in semi random patterns. He wandered down to the beachside restaurant and got a seat overlooking the shore. As the surfer filled waves crashed upon the sand, the sunset cast brilliant hues of red and orange through fluffy pink clouds.
Quietly, contemplatively, Gil sipped his tea and admired the view.
In the auditorium, Gil took another long sip of his beverage and wiped his hands over his eyes. His friend, Rob Taniguchi nudges him.
"Hey, why so tired? You neva come drink with us last night. You saving yourself for something?"
Gil seemed confused. "Yes, the conference…."
Despite Gil's odd sense of humor and quiet ways, the boisterous detective liked him; they had been friends for many years. Rob is a lifelong cop, having worked the streets of Waianae and Kalihi, Districts Eight and Five, respectively. The jovial, round-faced detective had worked such myriad violations as narcotics/vice, robbery, and now, homicide.
At the conclusion of the NCIS presentation, the lights came on and the blinds were drawn back to let the sharp rays of the sun in, blinding everyone momentarily.
"Where you like eat?" asked Rob, closing his binder and putting it aside.
"I don't know, isn't this your town?" Gil replied, raising an eyebrow.
The detective smiled and summoned three people over. "Okay, I got just the place. Gil, I want you to meet some folks from the task force. This is Hank Kainahui from the State, Wesley DeMello from the lab, and Lisa Jordan from the Feds. How about dim sum?"
Gil shrugged, feeling game for anything.
Somewhere in Kahala – Monday
In a luxury home in the upscale neighborhood of Kahala, a man sat in his den, typing at a keyboard. The man, in his forties, was dressed as one much younger than himself with name-brand jeans and Pokemon silk shirt. The room was decorated much as an adolescent would decorate their room with unframed posters of rock stars amid plastic figurines. The bed in this room sported children's sheets despite the fact that the man was neither married nor the father of a child.
The man's fingers typed quickly, occasionally clicking the mouse. Screens on his web browser changed, allowing him into a chatroom, labeled 'SchoolDazeHawaii'. He checked the various profiles and the pictures displayed. He quickly singled out a screen name and sent an instant message.
DarkLORD20: hey babes, saw ur profile. Ur a hottie. asl :)
sWeeTyGrL90: kewl, who r u
DarkLORD20: im wayne. asl
sWeeTyGrL90: uhh 15 fem Aina Haina
DarkLORD20: public or private school?
sWeeTyGrL90: private, y?
DarkLORD20: curious. u a virgin?
sWeeTyGrL90: no. boy ur nosy
DarkLORD20: hehe and horny too. ;) Wanna meet?
sWeeTyGrL90: umm i dont even kno u
DarkLORD20: Im wayne remember? Cmon I wanna see you in person see what u look like for real
That's not you in the pic shes2 hot
sWeeTyGrL90: that is me!
DarkLORD20: then show me. Meet me at zippys one hour
sWeeTyGrL90: k fine.
DarkLORD20: what r u gonna wear?
sWeeTyGrL90: I dunno pink skirt tank top.
DarkLORD20: k one hour
The man shut down his computer, confident that his spoofing software was keeping prying eyes from finding him. Whistling a child's tune, he took his car keys from a peg and tossed them in his hands several times before pocketing them. He went through his front door into his garage, where a silver BMW awaited. As he powered up the car, the garage door lifted up, revealing the outside world.
For this deviant man, lascivious thoughts coursed through his mind as he backed up and drove to Zippy's Restaurant.