FADE IN.
[EXT. VARIOUS LAS VEGAS CITY LIGHTS (STOCK) - DAY]
[EXT. DESERT - DAY]
[EXT. RAINBOW CANYON -- WOODS - DAY]
(A fly flies into camera frame. The camera follows the fly.)
[FLY POV]
(The fly flies, then zooms down into the trees. It burrows into some flesh.)
(Resume POV. The camera pulls back out of the flesh and we hear the buzzing of flies and see dozens of beetles on the open chest wound of a dead body.)
(Camera pulls back and we see the face of the person has been completely blown off.)
[TIME LAPSE]
(Fast forward time through multiple nights and days. The flesh of the decomposing body melts away.)
(Wild animals stop at the body.)
(The flesh of the body rapidly melts away from the bone. Bugs and beetles feast on the flesh.)
[EXT. RAINBOW CANYON -- WOODS -- DAY]
(Close-up: Grissom picks up a single beetle off the decomposing flesh where the head of the victim used to be. He holds it up and looks at it.)
GRISSOM: Hide beetle.
(FAR SHOT of Grissom and David Phillips kneeling next to the body. Multiple officers roam the area, possibly securing the scene.)
GRISSOM: This guy's been here at least two weeks.
(Grissom picks up a bullet from out of the decomposing flesh where the head of the victim used to be. He looks at it.)
GRISSOM: Number four buckshot, maybe?
DAVID PHILLIPS: Well, his pockets are empty. There's no wallet or any other kind of ID.
GRISSOM: What'd be the point of blowing someone's face off if you're going to leave their driver's license?
DAVID PHILLIPS: Well, he's all yours.
(David Phillips stands up and leaves. Catherine crosses the crime scene tape on the way to the body. Brass is talking with someone on the side.)
DAVID PHILLIPS: Hey, Cath.
CATHERINE: (to David) Hey. (to Grissom) Grissom.
(Grissom looks up. Catherine walks over to the body.)
CATHERINE: What's the deal? You're coming to my crime scenes before I get to them now?
GRISSOM: Weren't you on a 4-19 in north town?
(Grissom stands up.)
CATHERINE: Guess you missed me.
GRISSOM: I'm just documenting, then I'm leaving.
(He snaps a photo of the body. Catherine puts her kit down and gets a look at the body.)
CATHERINE: Oh. Ew.
GRISSOM: Lot of animal activity.
CATHERINE: Well, out here, I guess there's, uh, rodents, coyote, buzzards ...
(Grissom snaps more photos as Catherine kneels down next to the body.)
CATHERINE: ... occasional mountain lion.
(She picks up the victim's hand and notices his ring.)
CATHERINE: What do we have here? A little ice?
(Brass kneels down next to Catherine and looks at the victim's ring.)
BRASS: The end of Rainbow Canyon. And this must be the pot of gold.
CATHERINE: (reading) Las Vegas ... greenbacks?
(Brass reaches over and moves the ring with the tip of his pen to look at the writing on its side: AFFA 12)
BRASS: American Football Franchise Association. That league folded about twenty years ago.
(Catherine looks at the shotgun hole in the victim's chest.)
CATHERINE: Now, that's what I call a rat hole. (Grissom snaps a photo.) Shotgun wounds tend to be separate hits from individual pellets. But only if the shooter's far enough away from the target. This guy was shot at close range.
(Quick CGI POV: A shotgun is fired. The bullet exits the barrel. The pellet cluster hits the chest in a single large hole.)
(A man grunts.)
(The barrel of the rifle flares.)
(End of CGI POV. Resume to present.)
GRISSOM: Right between the numbers.
FADE TO
END OF TEASER
ROLL TITLE CREDITS
(COMMERCIAL SET)
FADE IN.
[EXT. RAINBOW CANYON -- WOODS -- DAY]
(Catherine is walking along the crime scene. Nick is standing at the edge near the trees. He's holding a camera and looking perplexed.)
NICK: I don't get it. Grissom calls me up, I come out here, and I find you. Things were a hell of a lot simpler when we were all on the same shift.
CATHERINE: You saying you don't like me as your boss?
(Catherine snaps a photo.)
(Nick doesn't know where this came from.)
NICK: Whatever.
(He snaps a photo of something. Catherine glances back at him, then goes back to what she found.)
CATHERINE: I got a shot cup. (She holds it up and looks at it.) Doesn't make any sense, 'cause our vic was definitely shot point blank.
NICK: Yeah, a shot cup coming out of a shell is like throwing a potato chip. It doesn't really go that far.
(She looks at the shot cup.)
CATHERINE: (quietly) Yeah.
(She puts it down as she thinks about it.)
(Cut to: Nick removes a bullet out from the bark of a tree. He looks at it and puts it in a bindle.)
(He looks around.)
(Catherine snaps a photo of a mark on a rock.)
(Nick kneels down to pick something up from the ground.)
NICK: Another casing. (He walks over to Catherine.) That's got to account for at least two more shots.
CATHERINE: Typical pump-action. Holds four in the mag, one in the pipe.
(She picks up another shot cup.)
CATHERINE: This was a chase.
(Quick flash of: The victim runs through the woods in the night. The killer is behind him and fires. The victim runs. The bullet misses and ricochets off the tree. A second bullet is fired and it ricochets off the rock. The victim continues to run.)
(The victim falls. The killer stands over the victim, cocks the rifle and fires.)
(End of flash. Resume to present.)
(Nick nods.)
CATHERINE: We know where it ended, so ... let's find where it began.
(Catherine and Nick look out across the area.)
NICK: There's not much out here to do for a couple of guys, other than hike or hunt.
CATHERINE: And the vic wasn't dressed for either.
NICK: So they were up to no good. (Nick sees something in the distance.) Is that a trail over there?
(They wade through the water and head over to the trail.)
(Nick stops at the small dam and sees a hundred dollar bill with the twigs. He chuckles.)
CATHERINE: What you got?
NICK: C-note in a Beaver Dam.
CATHERINE: Hang on.
(Catherine snaps a photo of it.)
(Nick cuts the twigs and takes out the bill. He looks at it.)
CATHERINE: Damn. This beaver's doing nice work.
NICK: They should do a commercial for the city.
(Nick kneels down and looks inside the hole in the beaver dam. Camera pulls back and we see that there are more bills - lots of fifty dollar bills -- lining the inside of the hole.)
(Nick straightens.)
NICK: Las Vegas -- where even the beaver can strike it rich.
(Catherine gives Nick a look.)
CUT TO:
[EXT. LAS VEGAS CITY (STOCK) - DAY]
[INT. TANGIERS - HALLWAY/ROOM - DAY]
(Det. Vartann is looking through his notes when Greg and Grissom walk up to him.)
GREG: Please tell me I finally got a hooker roll.
DET. VARTANN: Sorry. Maybe next time.
(They all step inside the hotel room. They stand around the bed where the dead body is.)
DET. VARTANN: Coroner was just here. Maurice Hudson, 37, lives in Tahoe.
(Grissom puts his kit down. Det. Vartann hands him the plastic bag with the victim's wallet and money.)
DET. VARTANN: $14,000 in cash, and credit cards are accounted for.
GREG: That much cash? Guy must have been a gambler.
(Grissom looks down at the table and sees a couple of 2005 W-2 forms.)
GRISSSOM: Casino W-2's. Looks like we got a winner.
(He picks up a name tag.)
GRISSOM: Name tag printed at the Tangiers. Probably a convention.
DET. VARTANN: I'll check it out.
(Det. Vartann leaves.)
(Grissom walks up to the bed with the dead body on it. The man is on the right side of the bed. The left side of the bed has a huge sweat stain on it.)
GRISSOM: So tell me about the body.
(Greg leans forward and looks at the victim's right side.)
GREG: Well, uh, livor mortis is settled, which means the body's been laying in this position for a while. Pronounced petechiae on the chest from lack of oxygen. Guy was struggling to breathe, pressure built up, and it popped the blood vessels.
(Grissom remains quiet. He looks at the body, noticing something else.)
(Grissom takes out a strand of something purple near the victim's mouth.)
GREG: Yeah, I saw that purple fiber. I was going to collect it. I just work on my own rhythm. (Greg takes the fiber and looks around.) I don't see anything purple in the room.
(Grissom looks around. He focuses in on the table against the far wall. Greg puts the envelope with the fiber in his pocket.)
GRISSOM: This table's cracked.
(Greg looks at Grissom. Grissom kneels down and finds something else on the table.)
GRISSOM: And we have what appears to be ejaculate.
(Greg looks around. He sees some stains on the bed sheets.)
GREG: Me, too. This guy was a machine.
GRISSOM: And he got around.
(Greg shrugs. Grissom stands up.)
GRISSOM: Have Sara process the sheets, and then pull the hotel surveillance.
GREG: Got you. We want to see who came ... and went.
(Grissom turns around and raises an eyebrow at Greg.)
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - LAB]
(The sheets are spread out on the table. Sara uses an ALS to examine the sheets.)
(She uses a marker to outline the impression on the sheets.)
INTERCUT WITH:
[INT. CSI - A/V LAB]
(Greg reviews the security video.)
(Sara continues to examine the sheet, marking the body fluid stains with a
marker.)
(Greg continues to review the video footage. He finds the video of the victim
stepping into the elevator.)
(Sara cuts out the portion of the sheet with the body fluid stains on it. She
puts the material in a container and caps it with a label for DNA.)
(Greg views video footage of the victim leaving the elevator.)
[INT. CSI - A/V LAB]
(Sara walks into the lab.)
SARA: Any luck?
GREG: Hotel gave us copies of the surveillance tapes from the time Hudson
checked in.
(Sara sits down next to Greg.)
GREG: I'm all the way up to last night, and he's always solo.
SARA: Until Mia processes the sheet, there's no way to know whether the semen
is the result of self-service only.
GREG: No way. Soft porn couldn't crack that table.
SARA: Okay. If he had a partner, that would explain the unusually large sweat
stain I found on the sheet.
GREG: No cell phone. No calls out. Always alone. Who was he with?
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - FORENSIC AUTOPSY]
(Robbins goes over the body with Grissom.)
ROBBINS: Maurice Hudson is a perplexing subject. Check out his eyes.
(Robbins pulls apart the victim's eyelids to show Grissom the eyes.)
GRISSOM: Bulbar hemorrhages.
ROBBINS: (nods and points) And petechial hemorrhages on the chest.
GRISSOM: Asphyxiation.
ROBBINS: Yep. Lividity, dark blue-purple, settled in the posterior area.
GRISSOM: Well, that makes sense. We found him face-up.
ROBBINS: Yeah? So then explain the additional blanching patterns on the chest
and thighs.
GRISSOM: Blanching happens when something's pressed against the area,
displacing the blood.
ROBBINS: Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but the body wasn't moved. And
these two lividity patterns taken together are consistent with him being on his
back.
GRISSOM: So there was something on top of him?
(Robbins nods.)
GRISSOM: Compression asphyxia?
ROBBINS: It took at least two to three very long minutes to kill him. And
whatever was on him remained there until livor set, about eight to ten hours.
GRISSOM: Well, whatever it was was gone when we got there.
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI -- LAB]
(The tech removes the money from the beaver hole relocated to the lab.
Catherine instructs the techs)
CATHERINE: I want two people in the room at all times, double counts, every
pile. If you don't agree, do it all again.
TECH: I know the drill, boss.
(Catherine turns and leaves the room. She walks down the hallway.)
[INT. CSI - HALLWAY - DAY -CONTINUOUS]
(Catherine walks through the hallway when Warrick finds her.)
WARRICK: Hey, Cath.
(She turns around when Warrick steps out of a lab.)
CATHERINE: Yeah.
WARRICK: I think I've got an ID off the victim's ring.
CATHERINE: Let's hear it.
WARRICK: The AFFA. It only lasted a few years, and only one player wore the
number 12 for the Greenbacks. He was a wide receiver.
CATHERINE: Okay, what's his name?
WARRICK: Gabe Miller. Fits the general description.
CATHERINE: All right, well, give it to Brass. We'll follow up.
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - FORENSIC AUTOPSY]
(Robbins goes over the body with Nick. Nick is wearing a face mask.)
ROBBINS: Minimal hemorrhage around the head wounds suggests the heart was
destroyed first. Close-to-contact SGW caused extensive pulpification on the
heart and bilateral hemothraces.
(Nick removes his face mask as he holds out the shot cup.)
ROBBINS: Yeah, and that was embedded in the back of his skull. Not uncommon
for a close-range shot.
NICK: I think the guy used a sawed-off shotgun.
ROBBINS: How can you tell?
NICK: Check out the stria.
(Quick zoom to the markings on the shot cup.)
ROBBINS: Hmm? Yeah, what is it?
NICK: Impatience.
(Quick CGI POV: Someone saws off the barrel of a shotgun.)
NICK: (v.o.) Sawing off the barrel of a shotgun is hard work.
(Cut to: The person breaks off the end of the barrel.)
NICK: (v.o.) Those that do it are usually in a rush in to get it done. It
leaves a burr on the edge of the barrel.
(The person cocks the rifle.)
(End of CGI POV. Resume to present.)
(Nick holds the shot cup.)
NICK: So every time the weapon fired, the burr on the barrel raked the shot cup
...
(Quick CGI POV: The gun fires. The shot cup explodes out of the barrel,
scraping up against the burr as it exits.)
(End of CGI POV. Resume to present.)
NICK: ... before the pellets blasted holes into Mr. Gabe Miller, here.
ROBBINS: That's the vic's name?
NICK: Yeah, why? Is it that funny?
ROBBINS: It's the same name as our new councilman from ward seven. Interesting
story. The guy played pro football ...
NICK: Yeah, wide receiver for the Vegas Greenbacks, right?
ROBBINS: Right.
NICK: Well, his team ring was on this guy's finger.
ROBBINS: Yeah, then you mis-ID'd the vic. Gabe Miller's still alive. As much
as a politician can be.
CUT TO:
[EXT. LAS VEGAS CITY (STOCK) - DAY]
[INT. - HALLWAY - DAY]
(Brass walks and talks with Gabe Miller down the hallway. He shows Gabe Miller
a photo of the AFFA ring.)
BRASS: So, this is your ring, huh?
GABE MILLER: Yeah, that's my old number. Haven't seen that ring in a long
time.
BRASS: Why is that?
GABE MILLER: Every cent I earned playing ball went up my nose or on some dog at
Las Vegas Downs. I was a real mess until I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal
savior.
(Brass makes a sound of disbelief. They stop walking.)
GABE MILLER: Do you got a problem with that, Captain?
BRASS: No. No, no. No, I ... no, I'm just listening.
GABE MILLER: Well, there's no need to keep talking unless you're gonna speak
your mind.
BRASS: Okay, Councilman. Say you're an alcoholic. One day you decide to give
up the bottle. And, more often than not, you're gonna trade in the shot glass
for a dozen Krispy Kremes and start pounding them away with both hands. You
know what I mean?
GABE MILLER: So you think I'm an addictive personality. Only now I'm into God
instead of greyhounds?
BRASS: No. I-I'm really not making any judgments.
GABE MILLER: When the Lord cleaned up my life, I promised him I'd always
remember the man that I used to be, so I'd never be that man again. I dedicated
twenty years of my life to playing football.
(He digs into his pocket, takes out his wallet and pulls out a pawn ticket. He
hands it to Brass to look at.)
(A woman walks up to them.)
GABE MILLER: And I pawned my championship ring for a $50 parlay.
WOMAN: Sir, they're ready for you now.
GABE MILLER: (to the woman) Okay.
BRASS: You can file a claim at our office and get the ring back any time you
want.
GABE MILLER: (shakes his head) I don't need trophies anymore, Captain. Good
luck on your case.
(Gabe Miller leaves.)
FADE OUT.
(COMMERCIAL SET)
FADE IN.
[SCOPE VIEW: PURPLE FIBER]
(The purple fiber is in focus.)
DAVID HODGES: (v.o.) Take a look.
[INT. CSI - TRACE LAB]
(Sara is looking through the microscope at the purple fiber as Hodges reports to
her.)
DAVID HODGES: Based on birefringence, your fiber's the product of a bivoltine
moth.
(Sara looks up.)
SARA: You could just say it's silk.
DAVID HODGES: (nods) Fine. Acid washed, dyed, tasar silk. Color's unique.
Not found in our database or the feds.
SARA: That's it?
DAVID HODGES: That's it.
SARA: It's not like you to get right down to business.
DAVID HODGES: Even I have off days, Sara.
CUT TO:
[EXT. LAS VEGAS CITY (STOCK) - DAY]
[INT. TANGIERS - DAY]
(Det. Vartann, Grissom and Greg step onto the escalator going down. Grissom
watches as a large woman wearing a pink tee-shirt steps on the opposite going up
escalator.
DET. VARTANN: There's only one convention at the Tangiers this weekend.
(The front of the woman's pink tee-shirt reads:
IF MY BODY DISGUSTS YOU ...
(She sees them looking at her and smiles.)
(They all turn to read the back of her tee-shirt:
KEEP IT TO YOURSELF
DET. VARTANN: It's the same name tag as the one we found on the vic's clothes.
(They reach the bottom floor.)
CUT TO:
[EXT. TANGIERS - POOLSIDE -- DAY]
(There's an APAPSP convention at the Tangiers, "Association to Promote
Acceptance of Plus-Sized People." Large men and women party poolside.)
(Det. Vartann smiles.)
DET. VARTANN: A hogs 'n heifers convention. Hudson wasn't fat. What was he
doing here?
GRISSOM: Maybe he used to be.
GREG: Or maybe he was a chubby chaser.
(Grissom looks at Greg. Greg shrugs.)
GREG: Hey, some men like curves.
DET. VARTANN: There's curves, and then there's rolls. (sighs) Look, have tons
of fun. I got a murder-suicide to cover.
(Det. Vartann turns and leaves.)
(Grissom looks around.)
GRISSOM: Something heavy killed our vic.
GREG: Heavy object, heavy person.
GRISSOM: Listen, pass this photo around the registration desk.
(Grissom hands Greg the DMV photo of Maurice Hudson.)
GRISSOM: Who knows. Maybe he did like big girls.
GREG: Where are you going?
GRISSOM: (points) I'm going dancing.
(Grissom shows the photo to a woman sitting in a chair.)
GRISSOM: Excuse me. Have you ever seen this man before?
(She shakes her head.)
(He heads over to two women dancing.)
GRISSOM: Excuse me, ladies. Have you ever seen this man before?
(They shake their heads and continue dancing. Grissom moves over to chair
dancer #1 who is sitting down and dancing.)
GRISSOM: Excuse me. I'm with the Crime Lab. Have you ever seen this man
before?
(He shows her the photo.)
CHAIR DANCER #1: (shakes her head) Never seen him before.
(Grissom notices her purple undershirt.)
CHAIR DANCER #1: Do you see something you like?
(She grabs her breasts and rubs them. Grissom backs away.)
GRISSOM: I'm sorry. I, uh ... I noticed your lovely purple undergarments.
CHAIR DANCER #1: I bought it here at the convention, honey.
GRISSOM: You did? (nods) Thank you.
(Grissom walks past her and she slaps his behind. Grissom turns around to look
at her.)
CHAIR DANCER #1: (shrugs) Fat girl, gay guy. It's not unheard of.
(Without saying a word, Grissom turns and leaves.)
CUT TO:
[INT. TANGIERS - LOBBY OUTSIDE CONFERENCE ROOM -- DAY]
(Open on the painting. Greg shows the DMV photo to Brenda Morgan, who is
sitting behind the registration table
BRENDA MORGAN: Yes, he's been to some of our events. We've exchanged hellos.
GREG: Was he here last night?
BRENDA MORGAN: I'm pretty sure I saw him at the mixer. Why?
GREG: We're investigating Mr. Hudson's death. Was he with anyone?
BRENDA MORGAN: I didn't notice. But you could check the message board.
(She points.)
GREG: Message board?
BRENDA MORGAN: When you see somebody you like, you leave them a note. If they
respond, you're in luck. If they don't, it's softer than face-to-face
rejection. We get that enough as it is.
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - LAB]
(Nick and Warrick go over the cash taken from the beaver's dam.)
NICK: Roughly 25,000 in cash, money bands from five different sports books,
some, uh, assorted trash and junk, and these.
(Nick hands Warrick two betting stubs from THE ORLEANS. He looks at them.)
WARRICK: Without the vig, these are both $5,000 bets. Duke minus 17 on a
Tuesday, and Louisville plus 23 on a Friday.
(The first ticket reads:
THE ORLEANS
90802-3EC1-0924
$5,500 Straight Bet
403 DUKE
-110 PLB -17
Event Date 02/14/05
Win $5,500 to pay $10,500
Ticket Cost $5,500
00331 MO326 Book 14Feb2005 10:05:58
9D802-3EC1-D654
(The second ticket reads:
THE ORLEANS
90802-3???-0924
$5,500 Straight Bet
225 LOUIVILLE
-110 PLB +23
Event Date 02/18/05
Win $5,500 to pay $10,500
Ticket Cost $5,500
00331 MO326 Book 18Feb2005 08:22:36
9D802-3EC1-D924 )
NICK: They winners or losers?
WARRICK: You know what? I don't follow college roundball anymore. Most of the
good players go pro right out of high school.
(Warrick picks up one of the money bands and looks at it.)
WARRICK: The Mirage, the Stardust, the Golden Nugget, and Sam's Town. It's
down the strip, across Fremont, up Boulder Highway. It's a classic runner's
route.
NICK: Well, if he was placing bets for a bookie, maybe we can find out who it
is.
(Warrick nods. Brass walks into the lab.)
BRASS: Hey.
NICK: Hey.
BRASS: So I tracked down the football ring from the pawnshop records. The ring
was bought by Kelvin Russell. Get this. Russell worked for the VSL, the Vegas
Sports Line.
NICK: Yeah, I've heard of them. They set the spread for almost every sports
book in Vegas.
BRASS: Now, if the vic worked for the VSL, he's legally prohibited from sports
gambling. I mean, that guy should be nowhere near a betting ticket.
CUT TO:
[INT. VEGAS SPORTS LINE -- DAY]
(Open on some sports items and a large boxing poster that reads:
NOVOTNY VS. WILBUR
"CONTEST OF THE YEAR"
UNDISPUTED WILTERWEIGHT CHAMPION
GORG
VS. SAN JOSE
CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHTS ALL NIGHT LONG
SATURDAY DECEMBER 19
SPECIAL TIME
8PM ET / 5 PM PT
LIVE ON PAY-PER-VIEW
{on left} CESAR DABO
{on right} ARCHIE ARCHMAN
(Cut to: Mitch Urbana stands in front of a whiteboard as he discusses the
spread with his team.)
MITCH URBANA: Five? A lousy five? This is the best left-handed shooter in the
country.
ODDSMAKER #1: Yeah, you're right, Mitch. Uh, my research has me at six.
MITCH URBANA: Six? They'll cover that at halftime. Where are you morons
getting your information?
ODDSMAKER #2: Seven and a half.
MITCH URBANA: Seven and a half is a good start. Let me hear. Scotty, come on,
beam me up. I want some numbers.
(Scott Kerwin takes a seat at the table.)
SCOTT KERWIN: Ten.
MITCH URBANA: Good. Okay, we're going ten here.
ODDSMAKER #1: Mitch, add a hook for me.
MITCH URBANA: Uh-huh. A hook.
(He adds "1/2" to the "10". He turns around.)
MITCH URBANA: That's the game. Call it into the books.
(Brass and Warrick walk into the room.)
BRASS: Hey, Mitch. So I see you're still the man with the plan, huh?
MITCH URBANA: Yeah, I am.
BRASS: I'm here about one of your employees, Kelvin Russell.
MITCH URBANA: Then we got the same problem. That kid's been a no-show for two
weeks. By the way, if you see him, you let him know he's fired, okay?
(Mitch takes a sip from his drink.)
WARRICK: Oh, I don't think you have to worry about him coming back to work.
BRASS: He's dead.
(This appears to be news for everyone in the room.)
BRASS: We're gonna need statements from everybody. Who knew him best?
MITCH URBANA: That'd be Scotty. Scotty Kerwin.
(Scotty looks at Mitch.)
SHORT TIME CUT TO:
[INT. VEGAS SPORTS LINE - ROOM - DAY]
(Brass and Warrick talk with Scotty Kerwin.)
BRASS: All right, Scott, so, uh, you and Kelvin were buds, right?
SCOTT KERWIN: No, not even. I was just the only guy that would talk to him.
BRASS: Oh, so, he wasn't the favorite?
SCOTT KERWIN: He was cocky.
WARRICK: Well, there's nothing wrong with a little confidence, especially in
your line of work.
SCOTT KERWIN: Yeah, well, I guess the guys didn't think he deserved to be cocky
just yet. I mean, Kelvin was new here, and Mitch Urbana's the man. And you
know what I mean? His number is the number.
(Scott squints and rubs his nose.)
WARRICK: You taking drugs, Scott?
SCOTT KERWIN: Yeah, it's for my Tourette's.
BRASS: So, when was the last time you saw Kelvin?
SCOTT KERWIN: Monday. Yeah, it was the morning after the Duke-Louisville game.
He-he sort of just came in and left.
BRASS: What was the big rush?
SCOTT KERWIN: He didn't come in to work. He-he came in to gloat.
(Quick flash of: Kelvin Russell walks into the room.)
KELVIN RUSSELL: (gloats) Hey, Mitch, you picked Duke minus 15, right? How'd
that game turn out?
(He looks at Mitch. Mitch doesn't say anything.)
(Kelvin laughs.)
(He writes on the board: 22.)
KELVIN RUSSELL: Just like I called it, old man! Hey, you weren't even close!
(End of flash. Resume to present.)
SCOTT KERWIN: Then he left. That was the last time I saw him.
CUT TO:
[INT. TANGIERS - LOBBY OUTSIDE BALLROOM - DAY]
(The registration table is busy. Camera cuts to the message board.)
MAN: Hi. Can I leave this message for Melody?
(The man hands her a message and a photo.)
JILL PAISLEY: Sure.
(She takes the message form him.)
(Greg walks up to the woman in front of the message board.)
GREG: Hi. I'm from the Crime Lab. There's potential evidence on this board.
I need the messages for Maurice Hudson.
JILL PAISLEY: Crime Lab? (She hands him the stack of messages.) Something
happen to him?
GREG: Yes. He's dead.
JILL PAISLEY: Oh. A few ladies here are going to be in mourning. He was
popular. I don't know why. Guess some people like pigs.
GREG: I take it you knew him.
JILL PAISLEY: Well enough to keep my distance. Bastard liked doing fat girls,
but didn't want to be seen with them. There are some women around here who
spend all their time and energy giving pleasure because they think they aren't
worthy.
GREG: You don't have to be large to have low self-esteem.
(She smiles a little.)
GREG: Did he check his messages last night?
JILL PAISLEY: Yeah. He and Regina Owens played message tag for a while. I
figured they hooked up.
GREG: Where can I find her?
JILL PAISLEY: She's a vendor. Intimates.
CUT TO:
[INT. TANGIERS - LOBBY - DAY]
(Grissom wanders through the vendors. He finds the stand with lingerie on it.
He walks up and looks at the nightie. Regina Owens walks up to Grissom.)
REGINA OWENS: That's some tickler you got there.
GRISSOM: Excuse me?
(She motions to his beard.)
REGINA OWENS: You got everything you need to please a woman.
GRISSOM: Fine. (He looks at her name tag.) Regina, um, can I ask you, is this
silk or synthetic?
REGINA OWENS: Oh, that's 100% silk.
GRISSOM: How many sets of these have you sold?
REGINA OWENS: Four pre-orders and another fifteen commissions. I even made a
set for myself. (She pulls down the shoulder of the blouse and shows Grissom
the purple lace underneath.) Men love purple.
GRISSOM: Do they?
REGINA OWENS: It's Purple Rain. Prince. Sexy. Custom color. You want it for
the wife?
GRISSOM: I'm not married.
REGINA OWENS: Girlfriend?
GRISSOM: No.
REGINA OWENS: You want one?
GRISSOM: (smiles) Yes, I do.
(She laughs huskily.)
GRISSOM: I'd also like, uh, copies of your customer receipts.
(Her smile fades.)
CUT TO:
[EXT. THE ORLEANS BUILDING (STOCK) - DAY]
[INT. THE ORLEANS - SPORTSBOOK- DAY]
(The counter is busy. Camera rises to show the betting board behind the
counter.)
WHITE FLASH TO:
[INT. THE ORLEANS - SPORTSBOOK - DAY]
(Warrick shows the victim's photo to the Sports Book Manager.)
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: Yeah, this is the guy. Time-stamps match what were on the
tickets.
(Warrick takes the photo and looks at it. The stamp on the photo reads:
EAST SPORTSBOOK
CAMERA 66
10:05:58:19
WARRICK: Looks like a runner to me.
WOMAN: Got that right.
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: Name's Lou Barnes. Yeah, we were kind of hoping those
babies wouldn't show up.
WARRICK: Why, because they're winners?
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: Oh, yeah. Those little pieces of paper are worth ten-five
each. Game hit us hard.
WARRICK: Yeah, I hear that book's the only place where casinos actually lose
money.
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: I worked here a long time, never seen anything like it.
Not even ASU-Washington in '93.
WARRICK: Oh, that's when the players shaved points. Any indication that this
game was fixed?
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: Well, Gaming Commission investigated. They didn't think
so. I figure we just got caught in a good steam play.
WARRICK: A lot of one-way action?
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: Minute VSL opened the line. Yeah, it was weird. Those
guys are usually right on. I mean, that's what we pay them for.
WARRICK: The sharp number keeps you guys from getting hit too hard, huh?
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: Not this time. Number went all over the place. Money was
rolling in so fast, guys were fighting for position in line. We lost over a
million on that game.
WARRICK: Could I get a printout of the line moves?
SPORTS BOOK MANAGER: You got it.
CUT TO:
[VARIOUS FLASHES OF THE SPORTSBOOK MAIN FLOOR]
[INT. THE ORLEANS - SPORTSBOOK - DAY]
(Catherine walks up to Warrick sitting at a table looking over the printout of
the line moves.)
CATHERINE: Hey.
WARRICK: Hey.
(Catherine sits down with her drink.)
CATHERINE: So, uh, Brass got a home address on the runner, Lou Barnes. He's
looking into it. What are you still doing here anyway?
WARRICK: I'm studying the game that our vic got rich on. These are the
craziest line moves I've ever seen.
CATHERINE: Line moves? Got to say, the only thing that sports book means to me
is guys without showers.
(Warrick laughs.)
WARRICK: That's actually true.
CATHERINE: Yeah, I know.
WARRICK: Okay, well, let me see if I can break it down. Monday morning, the
week of the Duke-Louisville game, VSL sets the line at Duke minus 15.
CATHERINE: So if I were to place a bet on Duke, they would have to win by more
than 15 in order for me to win the bet.
WARRICK: Right. Now according to the Manager of the Book, the moment that
number went up, cash came rolling in on Duke.
(Quick flash to: Bets are placed at the counter. The line starts at -15, then
changes to -17.5, -23, then -25.)
WARRICK: (v.o.) The professional bettors were all over the number, dispatching
runners in every book in town. Now, remember, money moves the line. So, by the
middle of the week, the tourists and local suckers caught wind of what the pros
were betting, to Duke minus 25.
(End of flash. Resume to present.)
CATHERINE: Yeah, everybody's throwing money on Duke. Big favorite.
WARRICK: This is where it gets weird. By Friday, all sorts of cash starts
rolling in, but this time on the underdog -- Louisville plus 25.
CATHERINE: Which means that Louisville could lose by 24 and still win the bet.
(Warrick nods.)
CATHERINE: So, why would you bet on the underdog if you had already put money
on the favorite?
WARRICK: Well, here's why. (Warrick maps it out on a piece of paper for
Catherine.) Our vic had Lou Barnes lay 17 points with Duke, and take 23 with
Louisville. And the game ... landed 22. How do you think he did it?
CATHERINE: He got more than 17 and less than . He won both bets.
WARRICK: All that action created this big "middle," so he was able to win on
both sides. I think Kelvin Russell sold VSL's numbers, and got killed for it.
CUT TO:
[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - INTERVIEW ROOM - DAY]
(Brass interviews Lou Barnes.)
BRASS: Lou Barnes. Big money runner. Still living at your mom's house?
(Lou Barnes' eyes start to flutter closed and he starts swaying in his seat.)
BRASS: Hey, buddy, focus. You all right?
(Lou Barnes tilts off his chair and falls to the floor with a thud.)
BRASS: Guess not.
FADE OUT.
(COMMERCIAL SET)
FADE IN.
[EXT. LAS VEGAS CITY (STOCK) - DAY]
[INT. HOSPITAL -- DAY]
(Lou Barnes is asleep on the hospital bed. The ER Surgeon is standing next to
the bed.)
NICK: (o.s.) Okay, Ma'am. What've you got for us?
(The ER Surgeon turns around and takes out the plastic bag from her pocket. She
hands it to Nick.)
ER NURSE: Pulled this out of his calf. Been in there at least a week. (to
Brass) The guy was septic. He's lucky to be alive.
(The ER Surgeon leaves the room. Nick looks at the bullet.)
NICK: Number four buckshot. Barnes was at Rainbow Canyon with Russell.
BRASS: Russell knows the line's going to move on a big game, and he wants to
cash in on it. But he can't go near a book without being reported, so he hires
Barnes to place the bets.
NICK: They win big, and both wind up on the wrong end of a shotgun.
(Quick flash to: A shotgun fires. A man groans. The second man runs as the
shooter raises his rifle and fires.)
KELVIN RUSSELL: Oh, my God!
(The shooter fires. Lou Barnes runs. The shooter follows and fires.)
(He cocks the rifle. The money floats to the top of the water. The shooter
stops and grabs a handful of money from the water.)
(End of flash. Resume to present.)
NICK: We're looking for a third guy.
(Brass turns and walks over to Lou Barnes' bed.
BRASS: (loudly) Hey, Lou. Lou. (Lou wakes up.) You want to tell us who
filled you full of lead?
LOU BARNES: I want a lawyer.
CUT TO:
[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - WAITING ROOM -- DAY]
(Several officers walk through the hallway chuckling and laughing to themselves.
In the waiting room, the women from the conference are there.)
(Sara walks through the hallway with her kit. She's heading for the waiting
room. Officer Metcalf sees her at the doorway.)
OFFICER METCALF: Walk softly. Don't cause a stampede.
(Sara doesn't laugh.)
SARA: I am going to remember that you said that, Metcalf, especially after
these ladies sue you and the police for discrimination, you genius. Could you
clear the halls for me, please? Come on, guys.
(Officer Metcalf and the officers leave, chuckling under their breaths.)
SARA: Hi, there. I'm Sara Sidle; I'm with the Crime Lab. And I would like to
apologize for him. That was really out of line.
JILL PAISLEY: They all were, and so are you, unless you've got a good
explanation on why we've been hauled down here.
SARA: Well, as you know, this is a homicide investigation. We've recovered
evidence consistent with custom-made lingerie that all of you own.
JILL PAISLEY: I'm no lawyer, but that sounds flimsy, even to me.
SARA: We also ran DNA on evidence that we found at the crime scene that proves
that two women had sex with the victim prior to his death. I would like to rule
you out as suspects, so I'm asking for a voluntary DNA sample.
REGINA KERN: You think one of us killed Maurice?
BLONDE WOMAN: Who's Maurice?
JILL PAISLEY: You know, Maurice Hudson. Big ego, little scab.
SARA: If I could just swab the inside of your cheek.
BRENDA MORGAN: The answer is no.
SARA: I can easily get a court order with what I've got.
REGINA OWENS: So get one. Let's go.
(Instead of leaving, Jill Paisley walks up to Sara.)
REGINA OWENS: Jill?
JILL PAISLEY: I don't want this humiliation made more public than it already
is. And I definitely don't want to come back here. So, you do what you want,
but this ends for me right here.
CUT TO:
[EXT. LAS VEGAS CITY LIGHTS (STOCK) - NIGHT]
[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - INTERVIEW ROOM 1 - NIGHT]
(Sara interviews Brenda Morgan.)
SARA: You told us that you didn't really know the victim.
BRENDA MORGAN: I didn't want to get involved. I still don't.
SARA: You were in his bed. I'd call that involved.
BRENDA MORGAN: Look ... Maurice wasn't a nice guy, but I slept with him anyway. I could service him all night, and he wouldn't even ride the elevator with me.
SARA: I bet that hurt. Enough to kill him?
INTERCUT WITH:
[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - INTERVIEW ROOM 2 - NIGHT]
(Grissom interviews Regina Owens.)
REGINA OWENS: He was better when I left than when I got there.
GRISSOM: What time was that?
REGINA OWENS: I went to his room around seven. Stayed just long enough to get mine and go.
(Quick flashback to: [HOTEL ROOM] Regina laughs. She bumps into the table.
She laughs.)
REGINA OWENS: Ooh! Oh!
(She and Maurice Hudson kiss. She leans back into the table and it cracks under
her. She continues to laugh.)
(End of flashback. Resume to present.)
REGINA OWENS: He knew how to have fun. And that's why we all come to Vegas,
isn't it?
CUT TO:
[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - INTERVIEW ROOM 1 - NIGHT]
(Brenda continues to talk with Sara.)
BRENDA MORGAN: I'm fat, Ms. Sidle. I am a fat woman. I've tried diet after
diet, joined gym after gym, done obesity programs, obsessed about drastic
surgery, and I'm still fat. I didn't get my high school crush. I did his homework. Didn't get the one in college, either. He became my "friend." But Maurice left a note in my slot on the message wall. And he made me feel special ... sexy ... wanted.
(She cries.)
SARA: Did you know about the other woman?
BRENDA MORGAN: When I went up to his room, she was leaving.
SARA: And you slept with him anyway?
BRENDA MORGAN: I thought about turning around, but it's not like I've had a lot of chances. It wasn't till afterwards ... that I started to feel ... angry. At myself. For letting him take advantage of me.
SARA: Did you argue with him? Was there a fight?
BRENDA MORGAN: No. I waited for him to fall asleep. Then I smothered him with a pillow and held him down until he stopped moving.
CUT TO:
[EXT. LAS VEGAS (STOCK) - NIGHT]
[EXT. ROAD -- NIGHT]
(Warrick walks over toward Brass who waits in the middle of the road. Three
officer cars line the road near an abandoned vehicle.)
WARRICK: Across town on a homicide, you guys call me out here for an abandoned
vehicle?
BRASS: The car was reported stolen last week. The R.O. is Mitch Urbana. It's
been picked clean.
WARRICK: You guys popped the trunk?
BRASS: Waiting for you; pop it.
(The tech opens the trunk.)
(Inside the trunk is a small pile of metal shavings. Warrick touches it.)
BRASS: What do you got?
WARRICK: Feels like metal.
(Quick flash of: Mitch Urbana saws off the barrel of a rifle. The metal
shavings fall into the back of his car.)
FLASH TO:
[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - INTERVIEW ROOM - NIGHT]
(Brass slides a photo of the car's trunk across the table toward Mitch Urbana.)
BRASS: The dust in your trunk is high carbon steel mixed with chrome - consistent with a shotgun barrel, like the weapon used to kill Kelvin Russell.
(Mitch puts his glasses on to look at the photos. He shakes his head and takes his glasses off.)
MITCH URBANA: Look, uh, my car was stolen, and I reported it, okay? End of story. I don't know nothing about no shotgun. Maybe the punk who stole my car must have put it there.
BRASS: You and Kelvin weren't on the best terms, eh?
MITCH URBANA: (shrugs) Oddsmaking's a little art and a little science, you know? Russell was ... he was all mouth.
BRASS: Hey, he nailed the Duke game.
MITCH URBANA: He got lucky. You know, there's about thirty games a day, and
... look, let me try to explain it to you, okay? Inside each game is a number.
Once in a while, I'm, I'm a little off. But most of the time, I'm right. I
work very hard to be right. I chisel through stacks of statistics, I sweep away
all the irrelevancies. I try to get to the bottom -- you know, where the truth
is. And yeah, I want to know what the quarterback had to eat that day, and if
the point guard's going through a messy divorce. All these things, they come
together, and all of a sudden, bang -- a number just jumps out at you. And
within an hour, every sports book in Vegas got that number up on their board.
My hard work displayed up there in lights. That's what I do.
BRASS: Let me tell you what I think. Kelvin made you look bad. He made you
look stupid. And for a guy who thinks highly of himself, who clearly needs to
be right, where there's a tremendous amount of ego involved, that's motivation
for murder.
MITCH URBANA: Kelvin Russell didn't know what hard work was, okay? He was a
loudmouth major pain in the ass. You think I killed him?
(Brass raises his eyebrows at him.)
MITCH URBANA: Prove it.
FADE OUT.
(COMMERCIAL SET)
FADE IN.
[INT. CSI - HALLWAY]
(Sara and Grissom walk through the hallway.)
SARA: Brenda Morgan is claiming that she smothered the victim to death with a
pillow.
GRISSOM: He wasn't killed with a pillow. C.O.D. was compressed asphyxia.
SARA: She admits guilt, but she's hiding something.
GRISSOM: Maybe she's covering for someone else.
SARA: We know that Regina Owens was in the room. She claims she left the
victim alive, and Brenda is backing her up.
GRISSOM: Yeah, but she's a liar.
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - A/V LAB]
(Greg shows the video security footage to Sara.)
GREG: Brenda got off the elevator at 7:30. Regina got on. They knew each other, so things must have been uncomfortable.
(On the monitor, Brenda leaves the elevator while Regina steps into the elevator. The time stamp reads: 07:24.)
SARA: The tape confirms Brenda's account. What time did she leave?
GREG: Spent the night. She didn't leave till the next morning.
SARA: Doc Robbins ball-parked the victim's death at sometime between 9:00 P.M. And midnight.
GREG: That means she slept with a dead guy. She's not only a killer, she's a
necrophiliac. That's what I call enjoying your work.
(Sara shakes her head.)
SARA: Hold on, hold on. Uh, back up the tape, please.
(Greg rewinds the tape.)
SARA: There. Stop.
(Time stamp is 07:23. On the monitor, Brenda puts her hand on the panel to
steady herself.)
SARA: She's trashed. Maybe she passed out.
GREG: How drunk do you have to be to sleep next to a decomposing body? The
smell alone's an alarm clock.
SARA: Not next to him. On top of him.
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - LOUNGE]
(Warrick and Catherine watch the basketball game on the wide screen.)
WARRICK: Who do you like?
CATHERINE: Uh, Charlotte. My mom grew up in North Carolina.
WARRICK: All right, I'll give you Charlotte plus two.
CATHERINE: What do I get if I win?
WARRICK: How about a fabulous dinner?
CATHERINE: (smiles) I'll take your action.
WARRICK: (smiles) All right.
(The game continues.)
CATHERINE: So, unless we find our murder weapon, the case against Urbana is circumstantial at best.
WARRICK: But he's involved. I feel it. Those sports betting types -- they'll lie to their own kids about a game that hasn't been played yet.
CATHERINE: You were a sports betting guy.
WARRICK: Yeah, and I lied when I was.
ANNOUNCER: Scott making his move. (The shooter shoots and misses the basket. Charlotte gets the ball.) No good! Charlotte looking for one last shot. (The buzzer blares.) He can't get it - buzzard! (The shooter shoots.) Final score: Hartford 89. Charlotte 88.
CATHERINE: (groans) Oh!
(Warrick smiles.)
CATHERINE: My team loses, but I still win that bet.
WARRICK: Well ...
(Warrick's phone rings. He answers it.)
WARRICK: (nods) Ah. (to phone) Brown. Really? Well, thank you. (He hangs
up.) That was the manager of The Sports Book. Says a guy filed a lost ticket
claim for the tickets that you found at the beaver dam.
CATHERINE: What's the name?
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - A/V LAB]
(On the monitor, a photo of Cesar Dabo appears.)
WARRICK: Cesar Dabo. No wants or warrants. Address in Lincoln County. That's
near Rainbow Canyon. That's where you found the body, isn't it?
(The information on the monitor from the LAS VEGAS POLICE IDENTIFICATION RECORD
reads:
CESAR DABO
HGT: 6'3" WGT: 230 LBS EYES: HAZEL
HAIR: BROWN RACE: CAUCASIAN
ADDRESS: 2974 WESTFALL AVE.,
LV, NV 89156
OCCUPATION: PROFESSIONAL BOXER 1979-1985
BOUNCER: 1985-1992
BARTENDER: 1992-1999
HANDYMAN: 2000-2004
CATHERINE: Yeah. (reading) Professional boxer from '79 to '85. After that, he spent a lot of time in Vegas as a bouncer, bartender, handyman. Just another one of those broken down, punch-drunk bums.
(Warrick runs Cesar Dabo through Google and finds 15,800 matches. The first four main titles read:
Archie Archman versus Cesar Dabo
Welterweight Contender Cesar Dabo
Cesar Dabo: Welterweight
Archer vs. Dabo
WARRICK: It says Dabo was a welterweight contender. A title match against Archie Archman was his biggest fight. Lost by a split decision.
(Warrick scrolls down:
Cesar Dabo: Welterweight Contender
Title Match Fight: CASER DABO Vs. ARCHIE ARCHMAN
Winner By Split Decision: Archie Archman
(The three judges listed and their scorecards are for: TAYLOR GREEN, MITCH
URBANA, and MAX TIMSON.)
WARRICK: Check this out. The only judge who called the fight for Dabo was Mitch Urbana.
(Quick flash to: [LAS VEGAS SPORTSBOOK] Mitch Urbana is in front of the whiteboard.)
(Cut to: The photo of welterweight contender Cesar Dabo.)
(End of flash. Resume to present.)
CATHERINE: Oh. So maybe Urbana hired his former boxing buddy to do his dirty work.
WARICK: Dabo takes them out to Rainbow Canyon. Murders Russell, but Barnes
gets away.
CATHERINE: Dabo grabs most of the cash, goes back to Russell's body, takes the
wallet, ID, takes off his face.
WARRICK: And Urbana reports his car stolen to cover his ass.
CATHERINE: Let's put out a broadcast.
CUT TO:
[EXT. LAS VEGAS CITY (STOCK) - NIGHT]
[EXT. DABO APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT]
(Officers with guns are positioned outside the apartment building. Brass gives
the signal for the officers to head for the apartment building.)
BRASS: Let's go.
(Brass and the officers make their way to the apartment building.)
BRASS: Go.
(Officers are already positioned near the doorway. Brass and a couple of
officers rush up the stairs to the second floor.)
(An officer batter-rams the door open.)
[INT. DABO APARTMENT (#5) - NIGHT]
BRASS: Las Vegas police.
(The door bursts open, startling the man and woman inside snorting coke. Brass and the officers hold their guns on them.)
BRASS: Cesar Dabo?
(Cesar Dabo doesn't move.)
BRASS: Put your hands on your head.
CUT TO:
[EXT. DABO APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT]
(Brass talks with Cesar Dabo whose hands are cuffed behind his back.)
BRASS: Listen, Cesar, you know, you're looking at a lighter gig if you tell us who paid you to kill Russell.
(Dabo sniffs.)
CESAR DABO: Nobody paid me to kill him.
WARRICK: What about your buddy Mitch Urbana? He called a fight for you back in
'79, right?
CESAR DABO: Yeah. I won that fight. Mitch was the only judge that got it
right.
BRASS: But you're willing to do time for that?
CESAR DABO: Mitch said the kid was selling his number. He asked me to follow
him, see what was going on.
WARRICK: So, why were you driving Mitch's car?
CESAR DABO: What, was I supposed to take the bus? My ride's been out all
month.
BRASS: All right, how much you get paid for the hit?
CESAR DABO: It wasn't a hit. I did it on my own. I saw the money that runner
was taking out of those books. Making Mitch look bad. He deserved it.
(Quick flash of: Lou and Kelvin Russell celebrate as they flash the cash at
each other.)
(Cut to: Cesar Dabo watches them from the car.)
CESAR DABO: (v.o.) They weren't so happy with a shotgun in their face.
(Close-up of Cesar with the rifle.)
CESAR DABO: (v.o.) I drove them out to Rainbow Canyon.
(He cocks the rifle and fires.)
(End of flashback. Resume to present.)
CESAR DABO: I took the cash and stuff. I came back here. I called Mitch and told him what went down. I said I'd kill him, too, if he said anything.
(Cesar shifts from side-to-side, his eyes are barely open. Brass watches him.)
CESAR DABO: I knew you guys would find me sooner or later.
WARRICK: Dabo, tell me something. Why didn't you take the kid's ring? That was worth something.
(Quick flashback of: Cesar checks out the ring on the kid's hand. He passes it over.)
CESAR DABO: (v.o.) Man, I thought it was a super bowl ring. Freakin' AFFA. That's my luck.
(He cocks the rifle and fires.)
(End of flashback. Resume to present.)
(Camera holds on Cesar.)
CUT TO:
[EXT. LAS VEGAS CITY (STOCK) - NIGHT]
[INT. CSI - GARAGE -- NIGHT]
(Grissom and Sara strap on the harness to the dummy as Greg watches.)
GREG: How much does this thing weigh?
GRISSOM: Two hundred and forty pounds at the moment. We'll increase the weight incrementally until you can't move.
GREG: Oh, I can't lift that. And if I can't, you can't. This is a safety issue.
SARA: Well, that's what the pulley is for, Greg, so relax and lie down on your back.
(Greg looks up at the pulley. He gives in and gets on the mattress on the floor.)
GREG: You know, this is exactly like a dream I had once, except it wasn't in a garage. And Grissom wasn't watching. (Sara suppresses a smile.) That was a different dream.
(Grissom lifts the dummy and places it over Greg. He lets it go.)
SARA: How's it feel, Dreamer?
GREG: Like 240 pounds of pure woman.
GRISSOM: How's your breathing?
(Greg pushes the dummy aside and sits up.)
GREG: Limited.
GRISSOM: Okay, add another forty pounds.
(Sara winks at him and nods.)
(Greg slips out from under the dummy as Sara adds the extra weight.)
SARA: Ready.
(Grissom lifts the dummy and places it over Greg. He lets it go.)
(Greg groans.)
GRISSOM: Well, the position's consistent with the victim. Face up, right arm is pinned.
SARA: If we could leave the dummy on long enough, we could actually match the blanching.
(Greg squeaks and groans, waving his hands to get their attention.)
GREG: Yeah, guys, help.
GRISSOM: Oh.
(Grissom lifts the dummy off Greg.)
GREG: Oh.
GRISSOM: Two hundred and eighty pounds.
SARA: Brenda's just shy of three.
(Quick flash of: [HOTEL ROOM] Brenda is on Maurice as he gasps for air.)
(End of flash.)
CUT TO:
[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - INTERVIEW ROOM -- NIGHT]
(Sara interviews Brenda Morgan.)
SARA: How long have you had Type II Diabetes?
BRENDA MORGAN: A few years. What difference does that make?
SARA: You also have hypertension.
BRENDA MORGAN: Do you always ask questions you already have the answers to?
SARA: The night that Maurice Hudson was killed, you'd been drinking. There was enough sweat on the sheets to run a tox panel.
BRENDA MORGAN: I don't drink a lot.
SARA: Well, it doesn't take a lot for someone to pass out who's on propranolol
and glucophage.
(Brenda starts crying.)
SARA: (quietly) It was an accident, wasn't it?
(Quick flash to: [HOTEL ROOM] Brenda wakes up and kisses Maurice. She brushes the hair from his face and notices that he's dead.)
(She sits up.)
BRENDA MORGAN: Wake up. Wake up.
(But he's dead.)
BRENDA MORGAN: Wake up.
(End of flash. Resume to present.)
BRENDA MORGAN: I just couldn't bear the jokes. Be some comedian's punch line. I would rather admit to murder and go to jail ... than to ever be that.
(Sara nods.)
CUT TO:
[INT. CSI - HALLWAY / LOUNGE]
(Grissom walks through the hallway and into the lounge where Greg is sitting at the table looking through a magazine.)
GREG: I've finally regained feeling in my spine, thanks for asking.
GRISSOM: A little technical reading, Greg?
GREG: Yeah, I guess I just wanted to see what the big deal is.
GRISSOM: Attraction is subjective. It can't be analyzed.
(Grissom pours himself a cup of coffee.)
GREG: Yeah, I consider myself to be pretty open-minded. Find other people's predilections very intriguing. What do you like? What gets your juices flowing?
(Grissom thinks about it.)
GRISSOM: Someone who doesn't judge me.
(Grissom leaves the room. Greg looks up to watch Grissom walking down the hallway.)
FADE TO BLACK
THE END.
Fait par Wella
