Body of Evidence

'No-I'll get to that next. I'm not on anything but this right now. But that was why I called Grissom. I didn't want you thinking you had an airtight case when we're really not even close.'

'Go ahead and get back to work, Mr. Nunez,' Grissom said, and motioned his CSIs to the other side of the room. They stood on either side of him as he held court, arms folded, eyes serene…terribly so.

'What other suspects,' he asked, 'have you looked at?'

'Randle is still the guy,' Catherine said.

'You know this to be a fact.'

'The evidence says so.'

Gary Randle and his wife were swingers, living a group-sex lifestyle, with the hardcore pornography collection to prove it: videotapes, photo albums, magazines. Perhaps out of some hypocritical consideration for his daughter, he doesn't want to print his kiddie porn pictures out on his computer. So he takes them into the office, and when his computer doesn't work, he chooses to use Ben Jackson's, since the new kid trusts everyone at Newcombe-Gold and his password is easily accessible.

But instead of printing the stuff off on Ben's computer, the print order is sent to Ruben Gold's printer-since that's where Ben Jackson had sent the last thing he'd worked on Friday to the boss. Figuring he was having trouble with that computer as well-and that his photos hadn't printed anywhere-a pissed-off Randle went home for the weekend, not realizing that his filth was lying in the printer tray in his boss's office.

'And this erotica collection of his,' Grissom said. 'Any pictures of children? Possible underage teens?'

Catherine and Nick traded a long look before they both shook their heads.

'So,' Grissom said, with a tiny smile that Nick considered mocking, 'you've isolated a male suspect who likes to look at pictures of naked women.'

'Gris,' Nick said, 'it goes way beyond that-the lifestyle, the snapshots!'

'So you have a suspect who likes sex. That would create a substantial suspect base, even just at this ad agency.'

Neither Nick nor Catherine said anything.

'What we have in this case,' their boss said, 'is a lot of circumstantial evidence. Nothing concrete.'

Nick didn't like it, but he knew Grissom was right. 'Yes.'

Catherine said nothing.

Grissom gave them his innocent look. 'How do you two feel about child pornography?'

Neither replied.

'Is it possible that in your zest to nail this suspect, you made the crime fit the evidence instead of letting the evidence speak for itself?'

Nick considered that but Catherine immediately said, 'No, this guy's been avoiding dealing with us, withholding information…'

Nick heard himself blurting, 'The guy's a prick!'

'If that was a crime,' Grissom said, 'we'd all have cause for concern.'

Catherine actually smiled at that.

Grissom's voice remained as calm and cool as a Mount Charleston stream. 'Could the suspect have been trying to protect himself? Because he thinks he's being railroaded?'

Catherine seemed to be staring into nothing.

Nick had a sick feeling.

Grissom's tone lost its lecturing quality. 'How hard have you looked at your other suspects?'

'There really weren't any,' Nick said with a shrug, and knew it came out too fast.

Grissom didn't hesitate. 'There's at least one other.'

Nick said, 'Who?'

Catherine was covering her face, but she said, 'The first person on the scene.'

Nick instantly recalled the axiom Grissom had pounded into all of them, from the very beginning: first on the scene-first suspect.

'Her name's Janice Denard,' Catherine said. 'She's the personal assistant of Ruben Gold.'

'It was his printer the images were found in, right?'

'Right.'

'And you checked her out?'

Embarrassed, Catherine shook her head.

Grissom's eyebrows flicked up. ' 'What can be done with fewer assumptions is done in vain with more.' '

'What's that mean?' Nick asked.

Catherine gave him a grim little smile. 'It means, Nick…back to square one.'

A hint of a smile tightened around Grissom's eyes.

'And this time,' Catherine said, 'we're going to look at everybody at Newcombe-Gold.'

Suddenly Grissom didn't seem to be listening; his eyes were distant, his expression strangely grave.

Nick said, 'Gris-you okay?'

Catherine asked, 'What's the matter, Gil?'

Their boss grunted a near-silent laugh. 'I was just thinking…maybe I should be taking my own advice.' His attention snapped back to them; looking from one to the other, he asked, 'You two going to be all right?'

'I think my head's screwed on straight,' Nick said.

'Now.'

'Good.'

And Grissom left them in the garage with Tomas Nunez and his big pile of computer data yet to be gone through.

Strolling back over to the computer expert, Catherine asked, 'How long do you need to get through Randle's laptop?'

Nunez looked at his watch, then at his monitor. 'Four, maybe five hours…depending on what's on it.'

'Can you track the address of the computer that actually sent the print order through Ben Jackson's machine?'

'If it's here, I'll find it,' he promised. Then he hedged: 'Otherwise, could be hard.'

'And this case has been so easy this far,' she said dryly. 'We'll be back later.'

In the corridor, Nick smiled over at Catherine. 'This is starting to feel like another double shift.'

'That's because it is one. Let's go help O'Riley interview Randle and see where that takes us.'

They found Randle and O'Riley seated across from each other in an interview room, the ad man's hands beating a gentle rhythm on the metal table. Both looked up when the CSIs came in, and O'Riley glanced at his watch.

'Mr. Randle's attorney should be here any minute,' the detective said. 'We'll not start the interview until Mr. Austin is present.'

The detective's demeanor had done a one-eighty since this morning and Nick could only wonder what Mobley (or Brass) had said to him on the phone.

Soon a soft tap on the door announced the arrival of Jonathan Austin. The gray-haired, rather elegant lawyer-tan suit, white shirt and dark brown tie-carried a large leather briefcase, which he deposited on the floor as he took a seat next to his client.

Austin's blues eyes had a nasty sparkle as he asked, 'And to what do we owe the pleasure of another meeting with such dedicated law enforcement officers?' The lawyer obviously knew from his client that an arrest had been made…and retracted.

Catherine glanced at O'Riley for permission to take the lead, and the detective nodded.

She said, 'We need to clear this matter up before it turns embarrassing. And we're hoping your client can help us.'

'Before it turns embarrassing?' the lawyer asked. 'Singling my client out from everyone at Newcombe-Gold for this kind of intensive investigation hasn't already embarrassed him? How about arresting him right out front of the agency? Perhaps you take such things lightly, and don't consider any of that an embarrassment.'

Leaning against the wall, Nick thought, Well, this is already going well…