“And this,” said Nick, “is Hodges.”

Hodges crossed his arms. “What are all these people doing in my lab?” he said with a pleasant smile.

Nick took him by the arm and led him a short distance away. “Look, don’t make a fuss, okay?” he said under his breath. “This is only temporary-”

“What’s only temporary? What’s going on?” His eyes widened. “OMG. They’re outsourcing my position, aren’t they?”

“No, that’s not it.” Nick paused. “Did you just say OMG?”

“I’ve been texting a lot lately. Is the lab being sold?”

“It’s a government facility, Hodges.”

“So what-everybody knows privatization is the wave of the future. Are those our new corporate masters?”

Nick rolled his eyes and gave up. “Yes, Hodges, that’s who they are. One of them’s an eccentric billionaire with a passion for science, and the other three are his entourage. Treat them nicely or they’ll make you play the new corporate mascot.”

“We’re going to have a mascot?”

They rejoine d the others. “Mr. Hodges is our expert when it comes to trace. He’s currently busy on another case, so-”

“I’d just like to say,” Hodges blurted, “that I really admire Richard Branson.”

They all stared at him.

“And that if the application period isn’t over, I’d appreciate being allowed to offer a few ideas in the mascot arena. I mean, something obvious like a talking DNA spiral or giant fingerprint might seem like a good idea up front, but something based on trace evidence offers far more possibilities-”

Grissom, who’d been standing in the back, stepped forward and cleared his throat. Hodges shut up.

As the scientists filtered out of the Trace lab, Nick whispered to Grissom, “Maybe we should have told him.”

“Have you ever seen Hodges act?” said Grissom. “The real thing may be odd, but at least it’s genuine.”

Grissom thanked all of them for coming in and assured them he would keep them apprised of the investigation. They filed out together, Soames already suggesting they adjourn to a bar. Only Nathan Vanderhoff lagged behind, turning at the last instant to retrace his steps to Grissom’s office.

“Gil? A moment of your time?”

“Of course, Nathan . What is it?”

“Something that occurred to me about the case. I was hesitant to bring it up while the others were around; it seemed presumptuous of me. Foolish, I know-you did say any insights were appreciated.”

“That I did. You have one?”

“Perhaps. It has to do not so much with the method of homicide as the resulting effect.”

“The riot.”

“Yes. And how the news of the murder was disseminated: the graffiti. Many social insects like bees and ants use chemical markers to communicate, and that’s what the graffiti reminded me of.”

Grissom nodded. “Leading to the victim’s school attacking its rival-like one anthill raiding another.”

“Yes. It may simply be my admittedly biased perspective as an entomologist, of course, but I thought I should mention it.”

“Thank you, Nathan. I appreciate the input.”

“My pleasure.” He nodded his head good-bye and left.

Grissom kept his eyes on Vanderhoff’s back until he was out of sight.

“Dr. Oki,” said Catherine, “thank you for coming in. Saves us the trouble of a warrant.”

Oki looked at Catherine. Then he looked at Greg. Then he looked back at Catherine. His face held as much expression as an ice cube held heat. He wore a short-sleeved brown shirt, and his hair was dyed a reddish blond.

“No problem,” he said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” said Catherine. “Another one of your patients has wound up in our morgue. I’d say that’s a pr oblem.”

“People die,” he said. His voice was as impassive as his face.

“Good thing, too,” said Catherine. “Otherwise I’d be out of a job. But your job is supposed to be keeping them alive. Not very good at it, are you?”

“I get by.”

Catherine gave him a slow smile. She loved a challenge. “Right. So far, that’s exactly what you’ve done. But I’m about to put up a big red stop sign, Doctor-one with you on one side and your medical license on the other. Think you’ll still be able to get by after that?”

His expression didn’t change-but he didn’t reply, either. She chalked that up as one for her side.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way,” said Greg. “All we’re after is a little cooperation. We get it, you can go back to prescribing diet pills and sleep aids to Z-grade celebrities.”

“What do you want?”

Catherine pushed a photo at him. “Hal Kanamu. We know you were supplying him with triazolam, and we know why. We were hoping you could supply a little context, too.”

Something tugged at the corner of Oki’s mouth, like an invisible fishing hook trying to pull him toward the ceiling. He fought it bravely. “What do you want, his biography? I didn’t know him that well. I knew The Story”-Catherine could hear the capital letters-“but everyone knew that. His one claim to fame.”

“Enlighten us,” said Catherine.

Two more unseen hooks snagged Oki’s eyebrows and pulled. “You don’t know? Huh. Well, okay. I can’t tell it the way he could, but then I’m not trying to charm my way into your pants.”

“Good call,” said Greg.

“It’s like this. Kanamu was a loser-or used to be, anyway. But then he makes this crazy-ass bet and it pays off.”

“What kind of bet?” asked Catherine.

“A props bet. You know, like what’ll come up at the coin toss for the Superbowl, heads or tails. There’s all kinds of things you can gamble on, including some really bizarre stuff.”

“Sure,” said Greg. “I heard a guy bet a vegetarian ten grand he wouldn’t eat a cheeseburger. He lost.”

“Yeah, well, Kanamu didn’t. He placed an entertainment bet-you know, like who’ll win American Idol or get voted off the island first-at five hundred to one.”

“What was the bet?” Catherine asked.

“That the teen actress Kendall Marigold would not only lose her virginity out of wedlock before the end of the year, she’d announce it on national television.”

“He predicted that?” Catherine asked. “Talk about a long shot-she was the spokesperson for the Save Yourself for Marr iage organization.”

“Emphasis on was,” said Oki. “It was tabloid gold for about two weeks, but it made even more money for Kanamu. He went around telling everyone he’d had a vision, which is why he placed the bet. The sportsbook who took the wager tried to say he must have had inside information, but an investigation couldn’t find any link. They paid up.”

“So Kanamu stopped hauling bus pans,” said Greg.

“And started popping pills,” said Catherine.

“Hey, I was just trying to help him out. I met him at a party and he was all wired on meth. Told me he wanted to get clean, but he needed a parachute, give him a soft landing.”

“You’re a real humanitarian,” said Catherine. “But now he’s dead. Any idea how that might have happened?”

“I thought that was your job.”

“It is,” said Catherine. “And unlike you, I’m very good at mine. Any idea where he was getting the meth?”

“I’m a doctor, not a dealer. I don’t have any connection to that kind of world.”

“Except for the hookers and junkies you meet at parties,” said Greg.

“Are we done?”

“For now,” said Catherine. “We’ll be in touch.”

After Oki had left, Greg turned to Catherine and said, “Well, well. The specter of the virgin sacrifice rears its head again.”

“It’s just a coincidence, Greg.”

“Offered on th e altar of public media. Thrown into the volcano of… okay, the metaphor kind of breaks down there. But it is interesting.”

“Only to someone who watches too much Entertainment Tonight. And what was with that ‘hookers and junkies’ crack? I’m the one who was supposed to be carrying the stick, remember?”