Lorne in Vegas by MilesF
Last Updated: 28/11/2006 00:01:23
Description: Lorne must help crime scene investigators solve a murder--his own!
Notes: Vampire hunter Holtz threw a bomb into Lorne's club and destroyed it. Subsequently, Lorne decided to move from L.A. to Las Vegas. This was my fantasy back in 2003 of what might happen to Lorne in Vegas--before Angel "Joss-ed" me by coming up with its version of what happens to Lorne in Vegas. I still like my quirky, quasi-sci-fi version.
Lorne’s body lay on the hotel room bed, staring glassily at the ceiling. He was mostly still green, although his face was blue. There was a long wire around his neck with one end wrapped around the doorknob to the bathroom and the other tied to the TV remote.
“Yeah,” said Warrick Brown, examining the night table. “Nothing in a hotel room is ever as securely nailed down as the TV remote.”
“Actually, it’s not nailed, it’s bolted down,” Gil Grissom said almost absentmindedly as he watched Catherine Willows dust the doorknob for prints.
“Do you mind?” asked Willows, not bothering to turn her head toward him. “You’re blocking my light.”
“Actually,” said Grissom, “it’s not your light. It belongs to the hotel. The vic was paying for it, but the killer left it on and now it’s the hotel’s.”
“That was inconsiderate of the perp,” said Nick Stokes in a muffled voice. His feet stuck out from under the bed so that Warrick had to be careful not to trip over them.
“I wouldn’t cry too much. The casino can afford the electricity,” said Warrick.
“Not simply inconsiderate,” Grissom answered Nick. “Very likely it was deliberate.”
“Finding any suspicious dust bunnies, Nick?” It was Sara Sidle. Wearing latex gloves, she was going through the victim’s luggage.
Captain Jim Brass walked into the room and made a beeline for the body. He peered at Lorne curiously, careful not to step too close to the bed for fear of disturbing evidence. “What do you make of the green skin?” he asked.
“Huh?” said Grissom. He turned and studied Lorne carefully. “Oh, that. Warrick? When you have a moment, take an epithelial sample from the vic and rush it over to Nellis. Ask for Colonel McNutt, and see that you hand it to him personally.”
“Will do.”
“So, you think he’s an alien?” asked Brass.
“Alien? Hah! I’m a man of science, Jim, not a fruitcake. There are no aliens.”
“Then what do you make of this foreign passport?” asked Sara.
The passport showed a smiling, green-faced Lorne. Grissom squinted at it and began working his mouth silently. Finally he sighed and announced, “I can’t pronounce the name on this passport.”
Brass spoke up. “The hotel register says that the occupant was named Lorne, no last name like Cher.”
“That’s poetic coming from you, Brass,” said Sara, “I mean, adding the reference to Cher.”
“No,” said Brass. “On the hotel’s register it says—and I quote: ’Room 502, Lorne—No Last Name Like Cher’.”
“Interesting.” Grissom stroked his chin and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Willows blinked, annoyed as the object of her deepest concentration pulled away from her. At the same moment, Lorne’s body sat up in bed, the wire pulling taut as it raised the corpse.
Later that day, Grissom responded to an urgent pager message from Dr. Al Robbins.
“Don’t tell me. It’s the Lorne case,” said Grissom, swinging open the door to Autopsy without any greeting to the coroner. “What did you get from the autopsy?”
“Well, you see the wire on the table?”
“Yes, that’s the wire used to strangle the vic, but… where’s the body? Don’t tell me some military types or guys in black suits have been in here.”
“What military? What black suits?”
“Never mind,” said Grissom, recovering himself. “What happened as far as you know?”
“I’m not really sure. I unwrapped the wire from around the victim’s neck; then I turned around to get my scalpel. When I turned back, he was gone.”
“Gone? Where could he go? He's dead!” Grissom was unusually excited.
“All I know is when I looked around, the door was still swinging back and forth as if someone had just left in a hurry.”
“Is there anything else that you can tell me?” asked Grissom desperately.
“Just that my camel hair overcoat and identification badge are missing. Where are you going?”
“To check the video from the camera trained on people leaving the building!” Grissom called as he raced out of the room. The door swung back and forth by itself.
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