'Fair enough,' Catherine said. 'But let's see what Greg's been up to.'

They entered the lab and found Greg bent over several reports. On the counter next to the spiky-haired lab tech was a human skull, grinning in welcome.

Hearing them enter, Greg turned and bestowed one of his silliest smiles and gestured to the skull in tah- dah fashion. 'If I may, I'd like to present the head of the UWN drama department.'

'Stop the presses,' Warrick said. 'Greg Sanders gets head.'

'Spare me the puns, children,' Catherine said, bending down to look Derek Fairmont in what had once been his face. 'These are human remains.'

'Question is,' Warrick said, 'is this a murder victim?'

Greg raised a hand. 'Let's not get ahead of ourselves…. Sorry. That one was accidental.'

Catherine, hands on hips, asked, 'What luck have you had with the skull, Greg?'

'Well, you were both right-Warrick saying that it was unlikely any poison could be absorbed into bone before madness set in. But I am looking at the teeth, Catherine, which are indeed more porous than bone.'

Catherine's eyes tightened. 'Do they show traces of-'

'Haven't got that far yet.'

'How far have you gotten, Greg?'

He gave a smug pixie smile. 'Oh-just enough to say that Derek Fairmont was, in fact, poisoned.'

The two CSIs and the detectives traded expectant expressions, allowing the lab tech to savor his dramatic pause.

'I tested the tissue samples from the University Medical Center,' Greg said, 'and found traces of prussic acid.'

Warrick grunted. 'Cyanide.'

Vega asked, 'If these organs were donated, wouldn't that have turned up before now?'

'No,' Greg said. 'These are traces. Wouldn'ta got on the medical radar. And the organs that have been transplanted-which is all of 'em-would function just fine.'

Catherine was frowning. 'With just traces, could that be written off as an…accident of some kind? Some innocent exposure to prussic acid?'

'If Fairmont had been a cow, Catherine-yes. I might in that case think these traces were accidental. Prussic acid poisoning is a problem with grazing animals, since it occurs in the epidermal cells of sorghums, and other related species those animals eat. Since Fairmont was a human, I'm gonna go waaay out on the edge and say…this is poisoning.'

'Probably,' Catherine said wryly, 'nobody forced sorghum on him.'

'Not likely. My educated guess? Rat poison.'

Warrick winced in thought. 'Plain old-fashioned commercial rat poison?'

'Yes-not that hard to get, and several major brands still use prussic acid as their active ingredient. It inhibits oxygen utilization by the body's cells. For all intents and purposes…'

Greg gestured to the skull, and his expression was somber now; nothing funny about this.

'…Derek Fairmont suffocated. What's more, it's the same poison that killed Gary Masters.'

'Good!' Catherine said, then realized her response sounded odd. She explained, saying to Greg, 'I was hoping you'd run that right away.'

'I anticipated that, and what I found was, the toxic stuff is all over the wine bottle… and the glass he was drinking from.' He held up the autopsy report. 'And my associate, Doctor Albert Robbins, concurs: death by poisoning. Actually, not that common a murder technique, these days.'

'Making it easier to miss,' Warrick said almost to himself, 'than you'd think.'

Vega said, 'We've got her using the same poison for two victims.'

Catherine said, 'Don't break out the champagne just yet-the same poison doesn't an MO make. The husband was killed over a long period of time, in small doses…hence the traces of poison in his remains.'

Greg said, 'She's right.'

Warrick, smirking humorlessly, said, 'Well, we do know Rene Fairmont's poison of choice, at least. All we need now is a way to prove our nasty nurse did these murders.'

Greg scratched the side of his head. 'Didn't you guys mention that Derek died in Mexico?'

Warrick nodded.

Catherine said, 'Yeah.'

Greg cocked his head. 'Did you come up with a Mexican death certificate?'

Catherine wondered where Greg was going with this. 'Yeah, we did, it was faxed to us-says heart attack.'

Greg's smile was almost as charming as one of Grissom's. 'Tell me-was there a consular mortuary certificate?'

Catherine winced. 'A what?'

'If the Mexican death certificate said heart attack, my guess is someone was bribed,' Greg said. 'I mean, the poison was right there for anyone to see…and if there's no consular mortuary certificate, and Derek here really did die in Mexico…then his wife brought him back illegally. Which is against the law. I mean, that's a federal law she's broken.'

Catherine looked at Greg with a newfound respect. 'How did you know all that?'

'It's 22 U.S.C. 4196; 22 CFR 72.1.'

'Huh?'

'That's the part of the federal code that deals with the death of U.S. citizens abroad.' Greg smiled. He showed the cheat sheet in his hand. 'Hey, where would science be without Google?'

Vega had a grimly satisfied expression. 'We need to report that to the feds.'

'I'll do it,' Catherine said.

'And in the meantime,' the detective said, 'I'm going out to Sunny Day and have another chat with Rene Fairmont.'

'We may not have enough to arrest her yet,' Warrick said. 'But this is a hell of a series of coincidences- seems like everyone she knows turns up murdered.'

'Why don't you come with me, Warrick,' Vega said, then turned to Catherine. 'How about you, Cath?'

'No, Sam-I'll make that federal call…doing my best not to have to talk to agent Rick Culpepper…and then I'm going to see if I can run down those presumably bogus charities of hers. Keep Rene talking, and maybe between Uncle Sam and my own Google-ing, you can put the collar on her.'

'We have enough to bring her back here for questioning,' Vega said.

When Vega and Warrick were gone, Catherine turned back to Greg. 'Thanks, Greg.'

'No problem.'

'Don't lose your focus, now-heads up.'

'Oh yeah,' Greg said, and he reached for the skull.

Warrick took the Tahoe and drove, Vega riding, and when they drew up at the Sunny Day guard shack, the CSI found the silver-haired guard, Fred, on duty.

Fred approached the vehicle and asked, 'Hello again, fellas. What can I do for ya?'

'Hi Fred,' Warrick said. 'Rene Fairmont on duty this afternoon?'

The guard said, 'Well, she was, but then she left about half an hour ago. Funny deal.'

'Funny how?'

'She was only in for, oh I'd say…five minutes? Then she took off. Drove outta here, faster'n a bat out of hell. Next time I see her, I'm gonna talk to her about that. That's reckless behavior, for an employee.'

Warrick looked at Vega and said, 'Flight risk?'

'Oh yeah,' the detective said with a curt nod. 'Go!'

'Fred, stand clear,' Warrick said, and jammed the Tahoe into reverse to peel out the driveway. He braked, tossed the gearshift into drive, and floored it, tires squealing as Vega got the dashboard light flashing and pulled the cell phone from his pocket.

'Who're you calling?' Warrick asked.

'Dr. Whiting-just watch the road!'

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