Spoliers for 2x11: Trapped
Taylor was not happy. Helping ghosts was one thing. But helping CSIs? That was just wrong. Yet there she was, helping Danny undress a dead body – which wasn’t an easy feat. She’d undressed Maddy on occasion, when she’d come in so drunk she’d passed out on the bed, but at least Maddy was tiny.
“Alright, I got the vic’s clothes off,” said Danny into his earpiece – he was on the phone to Marty, who didn’t know that Taylor was there. Danny paused, listening to what Marty was saying. “Got a flashlight. Hang on,” he said grabbing his phone. “I’m gonna put you on speaker phone.” He pulled the earpiece out and pressed a button on his Razr. “Alright.”
“Lucky for you, you’re not claustrophobic,” Marty’s voice came out of the phone, sounding slightly tinny. “Me, I do not like confined spaces.”
Taylor sat silently, watching Danny process examine the body – concentrating on trying to stop herself from throwing up, rather than getting into conversation.
“So why did you choose a career which puts you in windowless rooms with dead bodies, then?” Danny asked, as he looked at the victim’s throat.
Marty chuckled. “Ladies love the degree. They don’t ask specifics.”
Danny smirked. “Six years of med school to become a player, huh?”
“No,” said Marty. “I was already a player Messer. I just needed the bank to pay for my Porsche.”
Danny looked up at Taylor, suddenly realising she was there. “Um, Marty, I should probably point out that Taylor’s here,” he told the coroner, after seeing the hurt look on Taylor’s face.
“Taylor? She’s trapped in there with you?”
“Yeah, and you’re on speakerphone too, remember,” Danny reminded him.
Marty swore down the phone.
“Hi, Marty,” said Taylor quietly.
“Alright,” said Danny, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. “The only thing abnormal about our vic is the amount of blood leaking from his neck.”
“No defensive wounds?” asked Marty, clearly sounding as relieved as Taylor felt that Danny had said something.
“Doesn’t look like he fought back,” Danny told him. He pointed to the body and looked at Taylor.
“Erm, no, I guess not,” confirmed Taylor.
“Ok, describe the neck wound to me.”
“No hesitation marks, one cut – it looks clean,” Danny told him, as he peered in for a closer look.
“Single incised wound. Is there blanching?”
“Pushing on the lividity,” said Danny, explaining to Taylor at the same time as to what he was doing, “It’s clear and coming back.”
“Your victim has been in that position for less than 6 hours. Let’s get a more precise TOD.”
Danny glanced up at Taylor, a not-so-happy expression on his face. “You are not serious?”
“There’s gotta be a bathroom there, right?”
“Yeah,” said Danny slowly.
“Well,” said Marty, a small smile edging his tone of voice. “Be a good boy scout, and find a thermometer.”
“I’ll go,” said Taylor, happy for any excuse which meant she could get away from the body – even if it was only for the minute needed to locate a thermometer.
“It’s your lucky day, doc,” said Danny as Taylor returned and handed him the item.
“Nice. Now plant it in the end-zone and put some points on the board.”
There was a long silence as Danny struggled to insert the thermometer, a pained expression on his face. Even Taylor looked a little uncomfortable about what the CSI was doing.
“… Messer? Is it in?”
“Give me a second,” Danny grimaced. “Rigour’s setting in.”
Taylor winced and looked away.
“Welcome to my world,” said Marty, laughing again.
Danny pulled the thermometer out and held it up in the flickering light. “Temperature’s 93.”
“That means your victim’s been dead for four hours. Rigour and lividity confirm.”
Danny shook his head. “Nah, that’s impossible. The housekeeper said this room did not open up until three hours ago.”
“If that’s the case, then how did your killer get inside?”
“Perhaps the killer was already inside,” said Danny. “Perhaps our guy killed himself.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Taylor looked up and saw the ghost of Hunter looking sadly at the body of himself.
“Who was that?”
“Who was who?” asked Danny, looking between Taylor and the phone in confusion.
“Who said ‘it wasn’t me’?”
“You heard that?” asked Taylor, watching the ghost disappear.
“Guys, there’s no-one else here,” said Danny.
“Taylor, was that Hudson?”
Taylor smiled, feeling for the first time that she wasn’t going completely crazy, “Yeah.”
“Well, Danny, you are looking for a murder suspect, and not a suicide.”
“There’s no one here!” exclaimed Danny.
Marty laughed, “Put it this way, Danny, it’s two against one at this point.” He laughed again and hung up.
Taylor let out a breath and slumped backwards so she was lying on the floor, knees in the air.
“Was there really someone in here, or were you and Marty winding me up?”
“Yes, Danny,” said Taylor dryly, as she stared at the ceiling. “I called Marty earlier, knowing I would be trapped in here with you, to make sure that when you called him to process the body, he would play along with my little joke that I was seeing ghosts. That’s why he clearly realised that I was in here with you.”
Danny stared at her, trying to think of a reasonable explanation as to what had just happened. Upon failing, he changed the subject. “You seemed pretty upset about Marty’s comments.”
Taylor shrugged.
“Considering you kissed Flack.”
Taylor whipped her head around. “How did you find out about that.”
“Don’s a friend. We talk.”
Taylor shut her eyes, “I’m not seeing Marty, you know?”
“So why did you kiss Flack?”
Taylor looked at him. “Well, you two obviously don’t talk that much. I was… watching two guys, and he turned up. And then the two guys headed over to where we were, so I kissed him. I didn’t want them to realise I had been spying on them.”
Danny licked his lips. “Apparently, you’re not too shabby in the kissing department.”
Taylor managed a small smile. “Flack’s not too bad himself,” she blushed, realising what she was saying.
“You like Donny-boy,” smirked Danny.
“I do not!” Taylor indignantly exclaimed.
“You like Marty, then?”
Taylor slowly shook her head. “I live with him. That would just get complicated.”
“That’s not answering the question,” Danny was quick to point out.
Taylor scowled. “I really need to spend more time with people who aren’t CSIs. You’re too damn perceptive.”
“You’re still not answering the question,” said Danny, with a smile.
“I’m not a suspect – I don’t need to answer anything,” Taylor retorted.
“So speaketh a guilty mind.”
Taylor let out an exasperated groan. “I don’t know, alright! He can be really sweet – I’ll come home, and find that he’s done the ironing, and drawn a bath ready for me, and then I hear things like that,” she glared at Danny, “Happy now?”
Danny laughed. “For now, Drew. For now.”
“What’s with all this Drew nonsense anyway?” Taylor asked with a frown.
“Nancy Drew. It was Flack’s idea, actually.”
“Nancy Drew?” Taylor repeated slowly.
“Well, where are you from?” Danny shrugged.
“California – about twenty miles from San Diego.”
“See, California doesn’t have the same ring to it as Montana,” he grinned, “Diego, on the other hand – I could live with that.”
Taylor sighed, “Is there any reason why I need a nickname when I have a perfectly good name?”
“Yeah, cuz my boss is called Taylor. It gets pretty confusing,” Danny informed her, lightly.
Taylor was about to launch into a rant about Danny being an intelligent person, and therefore, the concept of dealing with two people, whose first names, nor surnames were actually the same, wasn’t that difficult a task. Thankfully he was saved by Stella.
“Hey, Danny, our housekeeper had all the right answers,” Stella told them.
Taylor sat upright and looked over at the monitor, “Well maybe she’s a really good liar.”
Stella nodded, “Maybe. The panic room does not open until 9am, yet Hunter was killed an hour earlier. How does somebody get in a locked vault with only one door?”
Danny let out a dry laugh, “If Houdini were alive, we’d have our killer.”
Stella sighed, “The only way to solve this puzzle is to find something inside of that room.”
“Alright. What do you suggest?”
“Let’s print the knife,” Stella suggested. “Now I saw a coffee pot in there – grab that. Taylor, go see if you can find some glue.”
Taylor nodded and got to her feet. When she found the thermometer earlier she had noticed some shelves with some bizarre supplies. She headed for it, finding a couple of packets of super glue. She grabbed one and headed back to the other room, “I found this: Mighty Glue,” she said, holding the tube up.
“Good,” said Stella, nodding. “Alright, that will do. Empty the glue into the coffee pot. Once you do that, I want you to insert the knife and turn the machine on.”
“I think I’ve seen this on an episode of The Flintstones,” quipped Danny as he took the glue off of Taylor and squeezed it into the pot.
“Cute,” said Stella with a small smile.
“Alright,” said Danny to Taylor, taking the knife she was holding off her, and placing the handle in the pot.
But now I’m high…
Taylor turned around at the sound of the James Blunt, watching the locksmith pull his phone out of his pocket.
“Cute,” she heard Stella say.
“Yeah,” agreed Jerry, “Me and my girlfriend, we downloaded the same ringer.” He flicked the phone open, “Yeah, speak of the devil.”
“It’s working,” called Danny, making Taylor revert her attention back to the smoking coffee pot. She could see the prints appearing, like magic.
“That stinks,” she told him, wrinkling up her nose. Danny smirked at her.
“Alright,” Stella called, “Now we’re going to need elimination prints. Pen ink will be great.”
“I saw some near the glue,” said Taylor as she disappeared to get it.
“Is there a razor in there too?” Danny called after her.
By the time she had returned with both items, Danny had located some paper and was setting a CD case in front of him. He took the razor off of Taylor and stamped on it, whilst she set to pulling the biro apart. Danny squeezed the ink out, using the razor to spread it out, and then went to take the prints of the dead body.
He laid the sample prints out, next to the knife and handed Taylor a small magnifying glass. She frowned and peered at the prints. After a few minutes, she pointed at one on the knife. “That one doesn’t match.”
Danny took the microscope off her and compared the prints for himself. “Miss Godiva, grab your camera – we’ve got a foreign print.” He walked over to the monitor and held the print up to the camera.
“That’s right, hold that,” said Stella, “Good job, you two.” She walked over to the computer and loaded it in. Taylor and Danny waited impatiently as they watched her. Finally, “Great… got a hit.”
“Nice, said Danny. “Who is it?”
“Roger Hagler,” Stella told them.
“Great, said Taylor. “Know where we can find him?”
Stella nodded. “Downstairs. He’s Hunter Hudson’s bodyguard.”
“Alright, I got the vic’s clothes off,” said Danny into his earpiece – he was on the phone to Marty, who didn’t know that Taylor was there. Danny paused, listening to what Marty was saying. “Got a flashlight. Hang on,” he said grabbing his phone. “I’m gonna put you on speaker phone.” He pulled the earpiece out and pressed a button on his Razr. “Alright.”
“Lucky for you, you’re not claustrophobic,” Marty’s voice came out of the phone, sounding slightly tinny. “Me, I do not like confined spaces.”
Taylor sat silently, watching Danny process examine the body – concentrating on trying to stop herself from throwing up, rather than getting into conversation.
“So why did you choose a career which puts you in windowless rooms with dead bodies, then?” Danny asked, as he looked at the victim’s throat.
Marty chuckled. “Ladies love the degree. They don’t ask specifics.”
Danny smirked. “Six years of med school to become a player, huh?”
“No,” said Marty. “I was already a player Messer. I just needed the bank to pay for my Porsche.”
Danny looked up at Taylor, suddenly realising she was there. “Um, Marty, I should probably point out that Taylor’s here,” he told the coroner, after seeing the hurt look on Taylor’s face.
“Taylor? She’s trapped in there with you?”
“Yeah, and you’re on speakerphone too, remember,” Danny reminded him.
Marty swore down the phone.
“Hi, Marty,” said Taylor quietly.
“Alright,” said Danny, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. “The only thing abnormal about our vic is the amount of blood leaking from his neck.”
“No defensive wounds?” asked Marty, clearly sounding as relieved as Taylor felt that Danny had said something.
“Doesn’t look like he fought back,” Danny told him. He pointed to the body and looked at Taylor.
“Erm, no, I guess not,” confirmed Taylor.
“Ok, describe the neck wound to me.”
“No hesitation marks, one cut – it looks clean,” Danny told him, as he peered in for a closer look.
“Single incised wound. Is there blanching?”
“Pushing on the lividity,” said Danny, explaining to Taylor at the same time as to what he was doing, “It’s clear and coming back.”
“Your victim has been in that position for less than 6 hours. Let’s get a more precise TOD.”
Danny glanced up at Taylor, a not-so-happy expression on his face. “You are not serious?”
“There’s gotta be a bathroom there, right?”
“Yeah,” said Danny slowly.
“Well,” said Marty, a small smile edging his tone of voice. “Be a good boy scout, and find a thermometer.”
“I’ll go,” said Taylor, happy for any excuse which meant she could get away from the body – even if it was only for the minute needed to locate a thermometer.
“It’s your lucky day, doc,” said Danny as Taylor returned and handed him the item.
“Nice. Now plant it in the end-zone and put some points on the board.”
There was a long silence as Danny struggled to insert the thermometer, a pained expression on his face. Even Taylor looked a little uncomfortable about what the CSI was doing.
“… Messer? Is it in?”
“Give me a second,” Danny grimaced. “Rigour’s setting in.”
Taylor winced and looked away.
“Welcome to my world,” said Marty, laughing again.
Danny pulled the thermometer out and held it up in the flickering light. “Temperature’s 93.”
“That means your victim’s been dead for four hours. Rigour and lividity confirm.”
Danny shook his head. “Nah, that’s impossible. The housekeeper said this room did not open up until three hours ago.”
“If that’s the case, then how did your killer get inside?”
“Perhaps the killer was already inside,” said Danny. “Perhaps our guy killed himself.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Taylor looked up and saw the ghost of Hunter looking sadly at the body of himself.
“Who was that?”
“Who was who?” asked Danny, looking between Taylor and the phone in confusion.
“Who said ‘it wasn’t me’?”
“You heard that?” asked Taylor, watching the ghost disappear.
“Guys, there’s no-one else here,” said Danny.
“Taylor, was that Hudson?”
Taylor smiled, feeling for the first time that she wasn’t going completely crazy, “Yeah.”
“Well, Danny, you are looking for a murder suspect, and not a suicide.”
“There’s no one here!” exclaimed Danny.
Marty laughed, “Put it this way, Danny, it’s two against one at this point.” He laughed again and hung up.
Taylor let out a breath and slumped backwards so she was lying on the floor, knees in the air.
“Was there really someone in here, or were you and Marty winding me up?”
“Yes, Danny,” said Taylor dryly, as she stared at the ceiling. “I called Marty earlier, knowing I would be trapped in here with you, to make sure that when you called him to process the body, he would play along with my little joke that I was seeing ghosts. That’s why he clearly realised that I was in here with you.”
Danny stared at her, trying to think of a reasonable explanation as to what had just happened. Upon failing, he changed the subject. “You seemed pretty upset about Marty’s comments.”
Taylor shrugged.
“Considering you kissed Flack.”
Taylor whipped her head around. “How did you find out about that.”
“Don’s a friend. We talk.”
Taylor shut her eyes, “I’m not seeing Marty, you know?”
“So why did you kiss Flack?”
Taylor looked at him. “Well, you two obviously don’t talk that much. I was… watching two guys, and he turned up. And then the two guys headed over to where we were, so I kissed him. I didn’t want them to realise I had been spying on them.”
Danny licked his lips. “Apparently, you’re not too shabby in the kissing department.”
Taylor managed a small smile. “Flack’s not too bad himself,” she blushed, realising what she was saying.
“You like Donny-boy,” smirked Danny.
“I do not!” Taylor indignantly exclaimed.
“You like Marty, then?”
Taylor slowly shook her head. “I live with him. That would just get complicated.”
“That’s not answering the question,” Danny was quick to point out.
Taylor scowled. “I really need to spend more time with people who aren’t CSIs. You’re too damn perceptive.”
“You’re still not answering the question,” said Danny, with a smile.
“I’m not a suspect – I don’t need to answer anything,” Taylor retorted.
“So speaketh a guilty mind.”
Taylor let out an exasperated groan. “I don’t know, alright! He can be really sweet – I’ll come home, and find that he’s done the ironing, and drawn a bath ready for me, and then I hear things like that,” she glared at Danny, “Happy now?”
Danny laughed. “For now, Drew. For now.”
“What’s with all this Drew nonsense anyway?” Taylor asked with a frown.
“Nancy Drew. It was Flack’s idea, actually.”
“Nancy Drew?” Taylor repeated slowly.
“Well, where are you from?” Danny shrugged.
“California – about twenty miles from San Diego.”
“See, California doesn’t have the same ring to it as Montana,” he grinned, “Diego, on the other hand – I could live with that.”
Taylor sighed, “Is there any reason why I need a nickname when I have a perfectly good name?”
“Yeah, cuz my boss is called Taylor. It gets pretty confusing,” Danny informed her, lightly.
Taylor was about to launch into a rant about Danny being an intelligent person, and therefore, the concept of dealing with two people, whose first names, nor surnames were actually the same, wasn’t that difficult a task. Thankfully he was saved by Stella.
“Hey, Danny, our housekeeper had all the right answers,” Stella told them.
Taylor sat upright and looked over at the monitor, “Well maybe she’s a really good liar.”
Stella nodded, “Maybe. The panic room does not open until 9am, yet Hunter was killed an hour earlier. How does somebody get in a locked vault with only one door?”
Danny let out a dry laugh, “If Houdini were alive, we’d have our killer.”
Stella sighed, “The only way to solve this puzzle is to find something inside of that room.”
“Alright. What do you suggest?”
“Let’s print the knife,” Stella suggested. “Now I saw a coffee pot in there – grab that. Taylor, go see if you can find some glue.”
Taylor nodded and got to her feet. When she found the thermometer earlier she had noticed some shelves with some bizarre supplies. She headed for it, finding a couple of packets of super glue. She grabbed one and headed back to the other room, “I found this: Mighty Glue,” she said, holding the tube up.
“Good,” said Stella, nodding. “Alright, that will do. Empty the glue into the coffee pot. Once you do that, I want you to insert the knife and turn the machine on.”
“I think I’ve seen this on an episode of The Flintstones,” quipped Danny as he took the glue off of Taylor and squeezed it into the pot.
“Cute,” said Stella with a small smile.
“Alright,” said Danny to Taylor, taking the knife she was holding off her, and placing the handle in the pot.
But now I’m high…
Taylor turned around at the sound of the James Blunt, watching the locksmith pull his phone out of his pocket.
“Cute,” she heard Stella say.
“Yeah,” agreed Jerry, “Me and my girlfriend, we downloaded the same ringer.” He flicked the phone open, “Yeah, speak of the devil.”
“It’s working,” called Danny, making Taylor revert her attention back to the smoking coffee pot. She could see the prints appearing, like magic.
“That stinks,” she told him, wrinkling up her nose. Danny smirked at her.
“Alright,” Stella called, “Now we’re going to need elimination prints. Pen ink will be great.”
“I saw some near the glue,” said Taylor as she disappeared to get it.
“Is there a razor in there too?” Danny called after her.
By the time she had returned with both items, Danny had located some paper and was setting a CD case in front of him. He took the razor off of Taylor and stamped on it, whilst she set to pulling the biro apart. Danny squeezed the ink out, using the razor to spread it out, and then went to take the prints of the dead body.
He laid the sample prints out, next to the knife and handed Taylor a small magnifying glass. She frowned and peered at the prints. After a few minutes, she pointed at one on the knife. “That one doesn’t match.”
Danny took the microscope off her and compared the prints for himself. “Miss Godiva, grab your camera – we’ve got a foreign print.” He walked over to the monitor and held the print up to the camera.
“That’s right, hold that,” said Stella, “Good job, you two.” She walked over to the computer and loaded it in. Taylor and Danny waited impatiently as they watched her. Finally, “Great… got a hit.”
“Nice, said Danny. “Who is it?”
“Roger Hagler,” Stella told them.
“Great, said Taylor. “Know where we can find him?”
Stella nodded. “Downstairs. He’s Hunter Hudson’s bodyguard.”
Originally posted: 24/05/2006