This chapter contains spoilers for 2x14: Stuck On You
Taylor was not a happy bunny. It had been exactly two weeks and a day since Leveau had been arrested and every night she had lay awake in bed because every time she tried to sleep her dreams were plagued with images of the two girls. She knew Marty knew that she hadn’t been sleeping – whenever he got home from work, she was up, channel surfing god-awful television that played nothing more than paid advertising at stupid hours in the morning – but he never said anything. He just picked out a DVD and joined her.
The popularity of her column had risen again, (it was the only reason Alex had forgiven her for running out of the party) thanks to a four page spread on religion based crimes, and her award was sat on top of the television.
The ghosts had been kind and she had only visited the lab twice in the fifteen days because of ghosts. They had both been over the age of forty, and straight forward enough. She had actually been to the lab daily, however. Partly because she was breathing over Flack’s shoulder (much to his utmost annoyance) as the other rapists had been arrested, and partly because she was spending time with the CSIs.
They were fast becoming good friends, especially Lindsay and Stella. The latter of which was becoming a surrogate mother/sister figure and was still taking the time to explain procedures to her (more likely out of pity than anything else, but Taylor didn’t mind) and was also helping to help her deal with a case involving children.
Sheldon had turned out to be incredibly well read, and if neither Lindsay nor Stella were about, he would talk to her about books and plays they had seen. Even Danny seemed to take pity on her, teasing her relentlessly, although it never bothered her so much as when Flack did it. Even Mac would welcome her to his office to talk statistics – it was a large part of why her column was doing so well. And even though she still knew very little about them, they were slowly becoming more than friends. They were becoming like family.
Her mother was still calling her daily, and had actually gotten worse when it came to Taylor’s personal life. After Marty had answered the phone, and received the third degree, her mother was beyond upset that her daughter was living with a man she wasn’t married to, claiming it was ruining her chances, and if it weren’t for the fact she hated flying, she would have been on the next plane out there.
She had had a letter from her father, as well as a phone call, but his ship was moored off the coast of Iran and communication wasn’t easy. In fact, the letter and call were more than she’d had in a few months, so she actually quite lucky in some respects.
Maddy was… well, she didn’t know. Maddy hadn’t returned her phone calls, and when she had gotten through, it was Pete who had answered. It was just another stress to add to the pile. She’d been around to see her a couple of times, but Maddy had been really busy, having just started a new job in a at an elementary school (she was a supply teacher). Which was why she was spending so much time at the Crime Lab
At that current moment, she was standing in a very large and spacious loft in Tribeca gazing at various pieces of artwork, whilst trying to enjoy a party she was really not in the mood for. Omar, from the Arts section had called and insisted she go to the “gallery” with him, only to back out at the last minute himself – when Taylor had already arrived. The only reason Taylor was still there was because Stella and Frankie had been there. And now she was feeling like a spare leg.
“One thousand individual pictures working as one. It’s almost as beautify as you are,” Frankie was saying to Stella. Taylor took a large mouthful of wine.
“You’re sweet,” Stella smiled at him. “You’re also very sneaky, Frankie. When you said we were going to go to a gallery show I assumed we’d be in a gallery – not somebody’s loft.”
“This is the art scene, Stella. Not the crime lab. Scientific rules don’t apply.”
As Taylor took another large mouthful – it was amazing how much wine made her feel better - the three of them were joined by another man.
“That’s not entirely true,” the man told Stella. “The algorithm that allowed me to put these mosaics together is mathematical.” He held out his hand to Taylor. “I’m James Golden, not your typical artist.”
“Oh!” Stella exclaimed. “It’s your work. Wow!”
“Congratulations,” Taylor told him.
“Thank you. James Golden originals, courtesy of Carlo Franchetti.” He pointed up some stairs to a man who was busy whispering into a woman’s ear. “Your host, and my benefactor, Carlo Franchetti.” James disappeared to mingle with other guests, leaving Taylor with Stella and Frankie.
As Frankie began complimenting Stella again, Taylor finished her glass and left them, looking for the bathroom. Which was valid, in part. Plus, she wanted to give them some privacy as she felt like she was disturbing their date. She headed up the stairs and began peering in the various rooms. They were all bedrooms, except for the last one. That one lead onto the roof. She turned around to go back in, when she was stopped by a scream.
She dashed up onto the roof and skidded to a stop, dropping her glass.
The popularity of her column had risen again, (it was the only reason Alex had forgiven her for running out of the party) thanks to a four page spread on religion based crimes, and her award was sat on top of the television.
The ghosts had been kind and she had only visited the lab twice in the fifteen days because of ghosts. They had both been over the age of forty, and straight forward enough. She had actually been to the lab daily, however. Partly because she was breathing over Flack’s shoulder (much to his utmost annoyance) as the other rapists had been arrested, and partly because she was spending time with the CSIs.
They were fast becoming good friends, especially Lindsay and Stella. The latter of which was becoming a surrogate mother/sister figure and was still taking the time to explain procedures to her (more likely out of pity than anything else, but Taylor didn’t mind) and was also helping to help her deal with a case involving children.
Sheldon had turned out to be incredibly well read, and if neither Lindsay nor Stella were about, he would talk to her about books and plays they had seen. Even Danny seemed to take pity on her, teasing her relentlessly, although it never bothered her so much as when Flack did it. Even Mac would welcome her to his office to talk statistics – it was a large part of why her column was doing so well. And even though she still knew very little about them, they were slowly becoming more than friends. They were becoming like family.
Her mother was still calling her daily, and had actually gotten worse when it came to Taylor’s personal life. After Marty had answered the phone, and received the third degree, her mother was beyond upset that her daughter was living with a man she wasn’t married to, claiming it was ruining her chances, and if it weren’t for the fact she hated flying, she would have been on the next plane out there.
She had had a letter from her father, as well as a phone call, but his ship was moored off the coast of Iran and communication wasn’t easy. In fact, the letter and call were more than she’d had in a few months, so she actually quite lucky in some respects.
Maddy was… well, she didn’t know. Maddy hadn’t returned her phone calls, and when she had gotten through, it was Pete who had answered. It was just another stress to add to the pile. She’d been around to see her a couple of times, but Maddy had been really busy, having just started a new job in a at an elementary school (she was a supply teacher). Which was why she was spending so much time at the Crime Lab
At that current moment, she was standing in a very large and spacious loft in Tribeca gazing at various pieces of artwork, whilst trying to enjoy a party she was really not in the mood for. Omar, from the Arts section had called and insisted she go to the “gallery” with him, only to back out at the last minute himself – when Taylor had already arrived. The only reason Taylor was still there was because Stella and Frankie had been there. And now she was feeling like a spare leg.
“One thousand individual pictures working as one. It’s almost as beautify as you are,” Frankie was saying to Stella. Taylor took a large mouthful of wine.
“You’re sweet,” Stella smiled at him. “You’re also very sneaky, Frankie. When you said we were going to go to a gallery show I assumed we’d be in a gallery – not somebody’s loft.”
“This is the art scene, Stella. Not the crime lab. Scientific rules don’t apply.”
As Taylor took another large mouthful – it was amazing how much wine made her feel better - the three of them were joined by another man.
“That’s not entirely true,” the man told Stella. “The algorithm that allowed me to put these mosaics together is mathematical.” He held out his hand to Taylor. “I’m James Golden, not your typical artist.”
“Oh!” Stella exclaimed. “It’s your work. Wow!”
“Congratulations,” Taylor told him.
“Thank you. James Golden originals, courtesy of Carlo Franchetti.” He pointed up some stairs to a man who was busy whispering into a woman’s ear. “Your host, and my benefactor, Carlo Franchetti.” James disappeared to mingle with other guests, leaving Taylor with Stella and Frankie.
As Frankie began complimenting Stella again, Taylor finished her glass and left them, looking for the bathroom. Which was valid, in part. Plus, she wanted to give them some privacy as she felt like she was disturbing their date. She headed up the stairs and began peering in the various rooms. They were all bedrooms, except for the last one. That one lead onto the roof. She turned around to go back in, when she was stopped by a scream.
She dashed up onto the roof and skidded to a stop, dropping her glass.
* * *
“I should have known you’d be here, Drew. And it’s not even surprising that you’re dressed to the nines, either.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want to be here, Flack. I got tricked into it, and have spent the best part of the evening feeling like a spare leg.”
“No date?” Flack asked carefully.
Taylor sighed, “I was supposed to be here with a colleague. Only he cancelled on me.” She turned her back to him, staring out at the twinkling lights of the city which were beginning to dim in the brightening light.
“It was you that found them?” he asked.
Taylor nodded. “Just another dead body to add to the list,” she sighed. “I didn’t see it happen. I heard a scream, saw that,” she pointed at a body impaled against the wall. “And called it in.”
“What have we got, Flack?” came Mac’s voice.
Flack turned around to greet the supervising CSI. “Morning, Mac. I’ll give you three guesses as to who found the body.”
“I’ve already seen Stella, Flack,” Mac told him.
Flack stepped to one side to reveal Taylor, who was leant against the side of the building.
“Taylor?” Mac said in surprise.
Flack nodded. “She saw nothing, though. Now, I’ve spoken with half the guests. My guys are following up with the rest. Word is Carlo’s parties are a regular event. Our victim’s name is Mirabella and this is her first party, because no-one knows her.”
Mac looked at the victim. “Mirabella’s anonymity doesn’t exclude her as a target. Neither does Carlo’s popularity, though. The question is, which one is the intended victim.”
“I’ll get on that now,” Flack told him. “Carlo’s getting into surgery. When he gets out, I’ll be waiting.” He gave Taylor one last look, then left.
“Taylor?” Mac called, heading over to the journalist.
“Hi, Mac,” she greeted him, turning around.
“You should go home.”
Taylor nodded, surprising Mac.
“You’re not going to fight me?” he asked her, frowning.
“Nope,” she shook her head at him, “I didn’t see a ghost, and frankly, I have no intention of hanging around a dead body unless I have to.”
“Oh, okay,” he said slowly.
“You don’t need me to make any more statements?” she asked as she started to leave.
“No, I know where you live,” Mac assured her. “And I’m sure you’ll be around later.”
Taylor nodded and left.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want to be here, Flack. I got tricked into it, and have spent the best part of the evening feeling like a spare leg.”
“No date?” Flack asked carefully.
Taylor sighed, “I was supposed to be here with a colleague. Only he cancelled on me.” She turned her back to him, staring out at the twinkling lights of the city which were beginning to dim in the brightening light.
“It was you that found them?” he asked.
Taylor nodded. “Just another dead body to add to the list,” she sighed. “I didn’t see it happen. I heard a scream, saw that,” she pointed at a body impaled against the wall. “And called it in.”
“What have we got, Flack?” came Mac’s voice.
Flack turned around to greet the supervising CSI. “Morning, Mac. I’ll give you three guesses as to who found the body.”
“I’ve already seen Stella, Flack,” Mac told him.
Flack stepped to one side to reveal Taylor, who was leant against the side of the building.
“Taylor?” Mac said in surprise.
Flack nodded. “She saw nothing, though. Now, I’ve spoken with half the guests. My guys are following up with the rest. Word is Carlo’s parties are a regular event. Our victim’s name is Mirabella and this is her first party, because no-one knows her.”
Mac looked at the victim. “Mirabella’s anonymity doesn’t exclude her as a target. Neither does Carlo’s popularity, though. The question is, which one is the intended victim.”
“I’ll get on that now,” Flack told him. “Carlo’s getting into surgery. When he gets out, I’ll be waiting.” He gave Taylor one last look, then left.
“Taylor?” Mac called, heading over to the journalist.
“Hi, Mac,” she greeted him, turning around.
“You should go home.”
Taylor nodded, surprising Mac.
“You’re not going to fight me?” he asked her, frowning.
“Nope,” she shook her head at him, “I didn’t see a ghost, and frankly, I have no intention of hanging around a dead body unless I have to.”
“Oh, okay,” he said slowly.
“You don’t need me to make any more statements?” she asked as she started to leave.
“No, I know where you live,” Mac assured her. “And I’m sure you’ll be around later.”
Taylor nodded and left.
* * *
She was awoken only a few hours after she had arrived at her apartment by her cell phone going off – it was Omar. “Hi, Taylor, sorry I couldn’t make it last night.”
“Don’t worry. It ended early, anyway,” she told him yawning.
“Yeah, I heard about that. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”
There was a pause. “Actually, I was hoping you could do me a favour?”
“Sure,” Taylor shrugged. “Provided it isn’t attending another art exhibition.
“Your friend, Frankie Mala. Could you get me his number for me?”
“Um, I guess that shouldn’t be a problem. Why?” she asked him, curiously.
“I’ve seen a few pieces of his and I want to write an article on him.”
Taylor shrugged again, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “No worries. I’ll text it to you later.”
“Cheers, Taylor.”
Taylor hung up and sighed. Mac was right. She would be going to the Crime Lab.
“Don’t worry. It ended early, anyway,” she told him yawning.
“Yeah, I heard about that. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”
There was a pause. “Actually, I was hoping you could do me a favour?”
“Sure,” Taylor shrugged. “Provided it isn’t attending another art exhibition.
“Your friend, Frankie Mala. Could you get me his number for me?”
“Um, I guess that shouldn’t be a problem. Why?” she asked him, curiously.
“I’ve seen a few pieces of his and I want to write an article on him.”
Taylor shrugged again, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “No worries. I’ll text it to you later.”
“Cheers, Taylor.”
Taylor hung up and sighed. Mac was right. She would be going to the Crime Lab.
* * *
Stella hadn’t returned to the lab by the time Taylor had arrived. In fact, there was no-one she recognised, other than Adam, and as she didn’t know him all that well, she headed down into the basement to the morgue. Marty was pulling a double, according to the message he had left her, so she figured that he wouldn’t mind a visit.
“Your party got cut short?” he asked, as soon as he spotted her.
Taylor nodded.
“A ghost?”
“Close,” she sighed. “Someone speared the host against a wall. Killed the woman he was with.” She pointed to Mirabella, who was lying on the table with half an arrow still protruding from her.
“Ah,” Marty nodded. “You’re here for the autopsy, then?”
Taylor shook her head. “I’m not actually here to help with a case, for once. I was just in the wrong place at the right time. I’m here to see Stella.”
“Oh? Really?” Marty asked in surprise.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Taylor agreed.
Marty smiled, “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I have some good news.”
Taylor smiled back at him. “What?” she asked, curiously.
“I have been asked to go to St. Louis to speak at a seminar.”
Taylor gave him a hug. “That’s great. When do you go?”
“Actually, my flight is this evening,” Marty admitted.
Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s quick.”
Marty grinned sheepishly, “Well, I was actually the solution to a last minute cancellation, but I’m not complaining.”
“You’re back then?”
Taylor dropped her arms from Marty and turned around. Mac was stood watching them, by the body of Mirabella. “Yeah,” she told him. “I’m not staying. I’ve just nipped in to see Stella.”
Mac nodded, “I’m here for the arrow,” he said to Marty.
Marty walked over to the body and turned her on her side, “Alright, you hold the shoulders, and I’ll pull.” He waited for Mac to secure his hold on the body, and then wrapped his hands around the arrow. “One… two…three.” Taylor winced as the arrow was pulled out with a slurpy sounding pop. “There you go,” Marty said, handing the remains of the arrow over.
“Thank you, Marty.” As he started to leave, Lindsay and Danny appeared in the doorway.
“Hey,” Lindsay greeted Mac.
“Hey,” Mac greeted back. “You guys on that music promoter?”
“Like glue,” Danny told him.
Mac let out a very dry, and in Taylor’s opinion, somewhat forced, laugh, before leaving.
“He doesn’t think that’s funny,” Lindsay said, turning to Danny. “He’s humouring you.”
Danny smirked at her. “You don’t know him like I do.”
Taylor turned to Marty and smiled, sharing a look.
“Hi Taylor,” said Lindsay, as she spotted her.
“Hi,” Taylor returned, giving her a bright smile.
“What are you grinning at?”
“Oh,” Taylor floundered. “Marty’s going to St. Louis for a conference,” she told them, recovering quickly.
“Why are you here,” Danny asked. “Ghost?” He looked around the morgue.
“Nope, just calling in to see Stella,” Taylor shrugged.
“Really?”
“I don’t get it,” frowned Taylor. “I’ve been every day for the past two weeks, but only came in because of a ghost twice. And yet I appear now, and you all think I’m here because of a ghost again.”
Danny shrugged. “Can’t help it, Drew. It’s the image that’s associated with you.”
Taylor pulled a face. “Glad to know. Anyway, I’m going to go and do what I intended on doing, and then get home.”
“Hey, if you’re going to see Stella, could you give her this?” Marty asked, handing over a folder. Taylor took it. She gave them all a bright smile and left.
“Your party got cut short?” he asked, as soon as he spotted her.
Taylor nodded.
“A ghost?”
“Close,” she sighed. “Someone speared the host against a wall. Killed the woman he was with.” She pointed to Mirabella, who was lying on the table with half an arrow still protruding from her.
“Ah,” Marty nodded. “You’re here for the autopsy, then?”
Taylor shook her head. “I’m not actually here to help with a case, for once. I was just in the wrong place at the right time. I’m here to see Stella.”
“Oh? Really?” Marty asked in surprise.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Taylor agreed.
Marty smiled, “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I have some good news.”
Taylor smiled back at him. “What?” she asked, curiously.
“I have been asked to go to St. Louis to speak at a seminar.”
Taylor gave him a hug. “That’s great. When do you go?”
“Actually, my flight is this evening,” Marty admitted.
Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s quick.”
Marty grinned sheepishly, “Well, I was actually the solution to a last minute cancellation, but I’m not complaining.”
“You’re back then?”
Taylor dropped her arms from Marty and turned around. Mac was stood watching them, by the body of Mirabella. “Yeah,” she told him. “I’m not staying. I’ve just nipped in to see Stella.”
Mac nodded, “I’m here for the arrow,” he said to Marty.
Marty walked over to the body and turned her on her side, “Alright, you hold the shoulders, and I’ll pull.” He waited for Mac to secure his hold on the body, and then wrapped his hands around the arrow. “One… two…three.” Taylor winced as the arrow was pulled out with a slurpy sounding pop. “There you go,” Marty said, handing the remains of the arrow over.
“Thank you, Marty.” As he started to leave, Lindsay and Danny appeared in the doorway.
“Hey,” Lindsay greeted Mac.
“Hey,” Mac greeted back. “You guys on that music promoter?”
“Like glue,” Danny told him.
Mac let out a very dry, and in Taylor’s opinion, somewhat forced, laugh, before leaving.
“He doesn’t think that’s funny,” Lindsay said, turning to Danny. “He’s humouring you.”
Danny smirked at her. “You don’t know him like I do.”
Taylor turned to Marty and smiled, sharing a look.
“Hi Taylor,” said Lindsay, as she spotted her.
“Hi,” Taylor returned, giving her a bright smile.
“What are you grinning at?”
“Oh,” Taylor floundered. “Marty’s going to St. Louis for a conference,” she told them, recovering quickly.
“Why are you here,” Danny asked. “Ghost?” He looked around the morgue.
“Nope, just calling in to see Stella,” Taylor shrugged.
“Really?”
“I don’t get it,” frowned Taylor. “I’ve been every day for the past two weeks, but only came in because of a ghost twice. And yet I appear now, and you all think I’m here because of a ghost again.”
Danny shrugged. “Can’t help it, Drew. It’s the image that’s associated with you.”
Taylor pulled a face. “Glad to know. Anyway, I’m going to go and do what I intended on doing, and then get home.”
“Hey, if you’re going to see Stella, could you give her this?” Marty asked, handing over a folder. Taylor took it. She gave them all a bright smile and left.
Originally posted: 06/06/2006