Body of Evidence

But when she turned the corner, and glanced through the glass wall of Randle's office, seeing him behind his desk, telephone in hand, the suspect made the decision for her.

He slammed down the phone, jumped out of his desk chair and ran into the hall, his face red. But his rage came out only in a word, albeit a forceful one: 'You!'

He had stopped inches from her face, and Catherine-normally cool in just about any situation-was genuinely alarmed.

'Not your business!' O'Riley shouted, as heads popped up over cubicles, then just as quickly disappeared.

'This is your fault,' Randle said, trembling with rage, almost in tears, stabbing the air between himself and the CSI with a finger, coming within millimeters of Catherine's chest.

O'Riley took Randle by the arm, firmly but not rough, and said, quietly, 'We're not having a scene, Mr. Randle. Step back into your office. Now.'

Randle swallowed, backed up, knocking into the door frame; he composed himself, as best he could, and stumbled into his office.

He was getting back behind the desk when O'Riley-shutting the door behind himself and Catherine, just inside the office-said, 'Mr. Randle, I suggest you settle yourself down.'

'Settle down?' He held his middle finger up, thrusting it toward Catherine. 'That bitch ruined my life!'

O'Riley pointed at the adman, who reacted as if it were a gun and not a forefinger aimed at him; Randle almost fell into his chair.

Gingerly, Catherine approached. 'Mr. Randle-what are you talking about?'

He covered his face in his hands. He was weeping.

Catherine glanced at O'Riley, who shrugged helplessly.

The CSI drew a chair up close to the desk; she leaned forward, handing him Kleenex from her purse. 'Please, Mr. Randle. Tell me what's wrong.'

He snatched the tissues from her hand and dried his face of tears and snot and then, almost comically, said, 'Th-thank you.'

'Mr. Randle. Please talk to me.'

'That…that was my ex-wife on the phone. Somehow she and her asshole lawyer got wind of this child porn crap, and now she's suing to regain custody of Heather!' His red eyes were pleading in a face wearing hurt beyond description. 'Elaine…Elaine's claiming I'm an unfit parent. She drove drunk with our daughter in the car and almost killed her. Now I'm the unfit parent?'

'I'm sorry,' Catherine said, and to her surprise, she meant it.

'Please…please, just leave me alone….'

'I know this is a bad time…' Catherine began.

'Bad time! Do you think?'

'…but we have some more questions.'

Randle's ravaged eyes widened. 'Why, anything I can do to help, just ask!'

'If you don't want to answer, that's your option,' she said. 'Believe it or not, I do understand how you feel… and I only have two questions.'

The ad man sat there; he might have been dead, but for a twitching around his mouth.

'Did you work on the All-American Jukebox account?'

The query so came out of left field that it seemed to jar him back into a more mundane reality. He stared at her, then said calmly, 'There wasn't an All-American Jukebox account-they went with Stevens, Hecht and Thompson…or as we call them around here, S-H-i-T. We pitched the Jukebox; that was it. Now, I'm sure that piece of vital information will clear everything up. Please go.'

'We will, shortly. But, Mr. Randle, we're close on this. If you're guilty, you're smart enough to know that sooner or later we're going to catch you.'

'Go to hell. Please just go to hell.'

'But if you're innocent, you need the guilty party caught-it's the only way to prove your innocence, and demonstrate that you really are a fit parent.'

This seemed to get through to him. At least, he was thinking.

Finally, he said, 'That…that makes sense, I guess.'

'Good. If you're really innocent, and you help us, I promise you-as one parent to another, as one single parent to another-I'll do everything in my power to help you keep your daughter.'

Their eyes locked and he looked at her for what felt like a very long time. 'How many kids?'

'Like you: just one. An eleven-year-old daughter.'

His eyes tightened-just for a moment-and then he said, 'So that it's…that's why you've hung me out to dry.'

'Pardon?'

'You have a girl the age of the kids in those photos, some of 'em. You looked at me, and saw a guy into 'porno' and you just hung me out to dry.'

They stared at each other.

'Maybe I did,' Catherine said.

O'Riley looked at her, stunned.

'Thank you, for that much,' Randle said, simply. '…What else?'

'You worked up the All-American Jukebox pitch?'

'Yeah-it was a big deal. I was part of it. Huge disappointment.'

She held out the page with the paragraph on it. 'Did you write this?'

He read it. 'No-this is an introductory letter. My input was more specific, including preliminary artwork; that kinda thing isn't my deal. I came in at a later stage-too late to do any good, frankly-and we didn't get the account.'

'Do you know who did write it?'

'Ian or Ruben probably-that's the kind of thing they'd handle themselves, at least with big clients, like casinos.'

Catherine rose. 'I have other people to talk to, here,' she said. 'If you're going to be around, I'll come back and keep you posted.'

'I will be,' he said, nodding slowly. 'I have plenty to do-on the phone with my lawyer, to see what we can do about Elaine.'

'With luck, I'll have ammunition for you.'

She extended her hand.

He looked at it; then shook it.

She and O'Riley stepped back into the corridor.

'I almost felt sorry for the guy,' O'Riley said.

'I do feel sorry him,' Catherine said.

The CSI led the detective to the break room, which was empty. O'Riley plopped down at a table; he still looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep this century.

Catherine said to him, 'I need to talk to Nick, then we'll go talk to Janice Denard.'

He nodded, got up, and lumbered over to a soda machine.

Nick answered on the second ring.

'Nicky,' she said, 'tell me you got the phone records from Randle's house?'

'Yeah, I did-weird though…'

'They don't match.'

'That's right!'

'Nick-I don't think Randle did it.'

'Playing hunches again, Cath?'

'Don't tell Grissom.'

'Hey, I plan to duck Gris for maybe a month!'