Writer's Choice--Trouble.
Title: Investigations, Part 5 ( Part 1.) ( Part 2.) ( Part 3.) ( Part 4.)
Author: carolhelga
Claim: Duncan
Prompt: Writer’s Choice: Trouble.
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 960
Disclaimer: I do not own the Highlander nor CSI universes, darn it, though I do own Brunhilde. This writing is all in good fun; I make no profit from it.
Summary: The suspicions keep mounting.
“Duncan MacLeod?”
He stood automatically as the beautiful woman entered the interrogation room. “That’s right, miss…?”
“I’m Catherine Willows, with the crime lab.” Her attitude was totally business, and MacLeod hid a smile. “Sit down,” she added as she sat across from him. She looked tired, and he surmised she was near the end of her shift.
“Where’s Hilda?” He sat and rested his hands on the table in front of him, in an effort to appear even more harmless. He wondered who might be observing them from the other side of the two-way mirror.
“Mrs. Pierson,” and her stress on the name pointedly noted her marital status, “is, it seems, at the airport expecting someone. Let’s concentrate on you, please.” Willows pulled out a swab. “Mr. MacLeod, I need a sample of your DNA.”
“Why?” He smiled disarmingly.
She didn’t buy it. “Because we need to know if you were in Mrs. Pierson’s room. We didn’t find your fingerprints, but you could just be a very careful murderer.”
“I wasn’t.” He sat back, and regarded her enigmatically. “You do keep harping on our relationship. I’ve told you, I know and am a friend of her husband, Adam.”
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t in a closer relationship with her,” was Willow’s cynical response. “Where is her husband, anyway?”
“Hilda said he was in Cairo. He’s probably looking for some ancient cuneiform or something.”
“So he knows you’re here with his wife?”
“I’m not ‘with her,’ Ms. Willows.” He leaned forward, still keeping his hands in plain view. “I didn’t know she was in town until I saw her last night.”
“You were having a drink with her when Captain Brass found you.”
“She was celebrating. When I recognized her, I joined her. There’s no crime in that.”
“Maybe not. Doesn’t mean you’re not in trouble.” Willows held out a swab. “I need to swab the inside of your mouth.”
His eyes almost crossed as he focused on the swab, then he leaned back. Enunciating very clearly, he said, “I have not been in Hilda’s room.”
“Then we won’t find your DNA there, will we?”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “How’s this work?”
“Just open your mouth.”
He did so. The door opened as Willows swabbed his inner cheek, and Gil Grissom entered, carrying a long, narrow box. “Good morning, Catherine.”
Willows grimaced at Grissom’s cheery tone. “How you can be so chipper…” she muttered.
Grissom just grinned at her, then turned to MacLeod, sobering as he did so. “Mr. MacLeod, do you recognize this box?” He set it on the table.
“No.”
“It’s not yours?”
MacLeod deliberately looked it over once, then brought his attention back to Grissom. “Never saw that before.”
“Really.” Grissom’s tone showed his scepticism clearly. “You do know what it is, though, don’t you?”
“Of course I know what it is.” He tapped it gently with one well-manicured finger. “That is a box used to store and carry a sword.” He dropped his hand back to the table. “An antique sword.”
“Could you explain how it got into Mrs. Pierson’s room? Or is she also a collector?”
“I don’t think she’s a collector, no.” MacLeod’s attention to the box sharpened. “That was in Hilda’s room?”
“Under her bed. Can you guess what was in it?”
MacLeod smiled without humor. “I’m guessing a sword.”
“Not just any sword, Mr. MacLeod. It was a bloody sword. And the blood on the sword matched the blood from the body we found in your room. Care to explain that?”
MacLeod held himself still as he thought about that. “No idea. Did you ask Hilda?”
“She says she didn’t know.” Grissom sat in a second chair next to Willows. “Based on the evidence, whoever killed the man in your room also killed the one in Mrs. Pierson’s, apparently with the same sword. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think, that the two of you know each other, and you each have a dead body, killed in the same manner, in your hotel rooms?”
“Coincidences do happen.” MacLeod flipped open the box, revealing its emptiness, except for a bloodstained cloth marring the interior. “So the sword had blood from both bodies on it?”
“That’s right.”
“Strange.”
“Why do you say that?” Willows asked, after a glance at Grissom.
“Anyone with knowledge of swords would have immediately wiped off the blood.” MacLeod smiled at his two interrogators. “Blood corrodes the steel, you see--dulls the edge. So if someone plans to use such a weapon, especially more than once, he’d definitely clean it off.”
“Or she?” Willows interjected.
MacLeod nodded. “Or she.”
Grissom looked about to ask another question, but Captain Brass entered and spoke before he had a chance. “Gil,” he said without preamble, “we found another one.” His eyes met MacLeod’s. “Three floors above the last one. Same MO--dead body, no head.” Now he spoke directly to MacLeod. “I’ve been checking up on you, Mr. MacLeod. Seems you’re no stranger to death.”
Grissom’s gaze hardened as he also spoke to MacLeod. “You knew we’d find another body.”
MacLeod ignored Grissom as he spoke to Brass. “And whom did you learn that from, may I ask?”
“Seacouver PD.” Brass pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. “Your name’s come up in several investigations involving murder. It’s like you’re a magnet for trouble.” He read from his notes. “Seven investigations just last year. Six the year before. Fifteen--fifteen!--eight years back.”
MacLeod settled back in his seat, realizing he would be there a while. “I was never…”
“Never convicted. Right.” Brass leaned forward, both hands on the table as he gave MacLeod his most intimidating look. “We’ll just see if you keep that up here.”
Author: carolhelga
Claim: Duncan
Prompt: Writer’s Choice: Trouble.
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 960
Disclaimer: I do not own the Highlander nor CSI universes, darn it, though I do own Brunhilde. This writing is all in good fun; I make no profit from it.
Summary: The suspicions keep mounting.
“Duncan MacLeod?”
He stood automatically as the beautiful woman entered the interrogation room. “That’s right, miss…?”
“I’m Catherine Willows, with the crime lab.” Her attitude was totally business, and MacLeod hid a smile. “Sit down,” she added as she sat across from him. She looked tired, and he surmised she was near the end of her shift.
“Where’s Hilda?” He sat and rested his hands on the table in front of him, in an effort to appear even more harmless. He wondered who might be observing them from the other side of the two-way mirror.
“Mrs. Pierson,” and her stress on the name pointedly noted her marital status, “is, it seems, at the airport expecting someone. Let’s concentrate on you, please.” Willows pulled out a swab. “Mr. MacLeod, I need a sample of your DNA.”
“Why?” He smiled disarmingly.
She didn’t buy it. “Because we need to know if you were in Mrs. Pierson’s room. We didn’t find your fingerprints, but you could just be a very careful murderer.”
“I wasn’t.” He sat back, and regarded her enigmatically. “You do keep harping on our relationship. I’ve told you, I know and am a friend of her husband, Adam.”
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t in a closer relationship with her,” was Willow’s cynical response. “Where is her husband, anyway?”
“Hilda said he was in Cairo. He’s probably looking for some ancient cuneiform or something.”
“So he knows you’re here with his wife?”
“I’m not ‘with her,’ Ms. Willows.” He leaned forward, still keeping his hands in plain view. “I didn’t know she was in town until I saw her last night.”
“You were having a drink with her when Captain Brass found you.”
“She was celebrating. When I recognized her, I joined her. There’s no crime in that.”
“Maybe not. Doesn’t mean you’re not in trouble.” Willows held out a swab. “I need to swab the inside of your mouth.”
His eyes almost crossed as he focused on the swab, then he leaned back. Enunciating very clearly, he said, “I have not been in Hilda’s room.”
“Then we won’t find your DNA there, will we?”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “How’s this work?”
“Just open your mouth.”
He did so. The door opened as Willows swabbed his inner cheek, and Gil Grissom entered, carrying a long, narrow box. “Good morning, Catherine.”
Willows grimaced at Grissom’s cheery tone. “How you can be so chipper…” she muttered.
Grissom just grinned at her, then turned to MacLeod, sobering as he did so. “Mr. MacLeod, do you recognize this box?” He set it on the table.
“No.”
“It’s not yours?”
MacLeod deliberately looked it over once, then brought his attention back to Grissom. “Never saw that before.”
“Really.” Grissom’s tone showed his scepticism clearly. “You do know what it is, though, don’t you?”
“Of course I know what it is.” He tapped it gently with one well-manicured finger. “That is a box used to store and carry a sword.” He dropped his hand back to the table. “An antique sword.”
“Could you explain how it got into Mrs. Pierson’s room? Or is she also a collector?”
“I don’t think she’s a collector, no.” MacLeod’s attention to the box sharpened. “That was in Hilda’s room?”
“Under her bed. Can you guess what was in it?”
MacLeod smiled without humor. “I’m guessing a sword.”
“Not just any sword, Mr. MacLeod. It was a bloody sword. And the blood on the sword matched the blood from the body we found in your room. Care to explain that?”
MacLeod held himself still as he thought about that. “No idea. Did you ask Hilda?”
“She says she didn’t know.” Grissom sat in a second chair next to Willows. “Based on the evidence, whoever killed the man in your room also killed the one in Mrs. Pierson’s, apparently with the same sword. Quite a coincidence, don’t you think, that the two of you know each other, and you each have a dead body, killed in the same manner, in your hotel rooms?”
“Coincidences do happen.” MacLeod flipped open the box, revealing its emptiness, except for a bloodstained cloth marring the interior. “So the sword had blood from both bodies on it?”
“That’s right.”
“Strange.”
“Why do you say that?” Willows asked, after a glance at Grissom.
“Anyone with knowledge of swords would have immediately wiped off the blood.” MacLeod smiled at his two interrogators. “Blood corrodes the steel, you see--dulls the edge. So if someone plans to use such a weapon, especially more than once, he’d definitely clean it off.”
“Or she?” Willows interjected.
MacLeod nodded. “Or she.”
Grissom looked about to ask another question, but Captain Brass entered and spoke before he had a chance. “Gil,” he said without preamble, “we found another one.” His eyes met MacLeod’s. “Three floors above the last one. Same MO--dead body, no head.” Now he spoke directly to MacLeod. “I’ve been checking up on you, Mr. MacLeod. Seems you’re no stranger to death.”
Grissom’s gaze hardened as he also spoke to MacLeod. “You knew we’d find another body.”
MacLeod ignored Grissom as he spoke to Brass. “And whom did you learn that from, may I ask?”
“Seacouver PD.” Brass pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. “Your name’s come up in several investigations involving murder. It’s like you’re a magnet for trouble.” He read from his notes. “Seven investigations just last year. Six the year before. Fifteen--fifteen!--eight years back.”
MacLeod settled back in his seat, realizing he would be there a while. “I was never…”
“Never convicted. Right.” Brass leaned forward, both hands on the table as he gave MacLeod his most intimidating look. “We’ll just see if you keep that up here.”