Rule 39: There Is No Such Thing As Coincidence (Tony DiNozzo Love Story)

Crime Scene

"Carter and McGee, I want the two of you processing and taking photos. David, go ahead and interview the daughter. DiNozzo. DiNozzo!" I look up form putting gloves on to see Tony turn his head quickly towards Gibbs.

    "Yeah, Boss?"

    "I want you searching around the house. Look for tracks and see how the suspect got in, out, and anything else that you can think of."

    "On it, Boss," he says.

    "What are you still standing around for?" Gibbs asks and we quickly disperse like ants doused in water.

    "So, what do you think?" McGee asks as he takes a photo and I stand back to take a look around at the office. An older man, no more than fifty-five is flat on his back in the middle of the floor. Two bullet wounds to the chest, his arms lying by his sides and his legs straight out.

    "Well, bullet wounds to the chest suggest that he was murdered and it wasn't suicide. He must have been standing here, in the middle of the office, facing the door—maybe someone came to see him? From the way he's lying it looks like he wasn't alarmed by the shooter. There doesn't matter to be any attempt to defend themselves, maybe he knew them," I say.

    McGee makes an agreeing hum and I walk around him towards the desk as he takes another photo. The top is neat and tidy, just as you'd expect from a Marine. Flipping through the calendar, I find nothing that jumps out at me. Pulling the drawers open my eyebrows knit together as I find them very untidy.

    "Hey, Tim," I say and he walks over and looks into the drawers.

    "What?"

    "What do you see?" I ask as I look at him. He gives me a puzzled look before looking at the top of the desk then back to the drawers.

    "I see a neat desktop and very messy drawers."

    "Me too. Look around the room, not one thing is out of place. Everything has its place, it's made to fit.

    "Like it's in Marine standard," he says.

    "Exactly, so why are the drawers in his desk untidy?"

    "Maybe whoever killed him looked into them?"

    "So what could have been in the drawers that they could have had our Admiral killed?" I pull the chair back and start looking at the other drawers and flipping through the calendar more. Lifting up paperweights, frames, anything on the desk. McGee walks over to the other drawers along the built in shelves against the wall and pulls them open.

    "Erin," Tim calls and I look up.

    I look up and see that the drawer is neat, he pulls the remainder of them open and they're all neat.

    "So whatever they were looking for was at the desk," I reply

    Standing back and facing the door, I stare straight down at the top. The computer to the left, keyboard just in front of it and the mouse to the right. Picture frames next to the computer to the right, five in all. Next to it, notepads, sticky notes, a pen box, calendar, all of it perfect. I stare straight out and look at the office, trying to imagine what happened.

    "So maybe the Admiral was here. Someone comes to the door and he looks up to see them, someone he knows. He walks from around the desk and towards them, he stops just there. Whoever it is hasn't entered the room entirely, they're still in the doorway," I say acting the scene out. I walk around the desk and toward the Admiral. Standing at his feet, I look back at the door and see the angle that I am in.

    "He stands here. They're talking and the other person shoots him."

    "And he falls where he is," Tim finishes. I bite my lip as I start looking at my angle again, then back to the floor and the desk behind me.

    "Except from here he wouldn't be lying like that. Plus, where's the blood?" I ask softly. His brow furrows as he looks behind me as well.

    "Come here and stand where I'm standing," I say. He does and I point towards the doorway.

    "Look towards the door and then look back at the way he's laying on the floor. If I was the shooter and standing about here, a respectable distance, you wouldn't be laying like that. His arms are next to him and his legs are straight out. Take a few steps to the side."

    He does so and I offer my arm.

    "Grab my arm," I say.

    "Why?"

    "Because I'm going to push you and force you to drop like two bullet wounds to the chest would. I don't want you getting hurt," I say. He grabs hold of my arm and I grasp his forearm as I push him. He stumbles back and falls, landing on his backside as I lean over still holing his arm.

    "One shot would have knocked you back a little and the second—," I say as I push him again and let go. He lands on his back and I stand straight.

    "Sorry, I didn't want to fall either."

    He nods and lies there and I look at him.

    "Two shot would leave you here. Your arms outstretched a bit, not next to you like they are with him. Look at your legs, they're bent and one's turned from falling when you tried to support yourself. His are straight, he was moved. Is Ducky here yet? We need to turn him," I say.

    "I think he's just about here, what are you thinking?"

    "The scene is too clean, he had to be moved and placed here. My question is why and where was he shot?"

    I move back over towards the desk and stand where I was before. I look back at the chair and see how high it is above the ground. Squatting, I sit to about where the chair is and stare out at the room.

    "How tall is he?" I ask.

    "Report says he's six foot, two inches."

    "This chair isn't original to the room. It's too high, look how tall this desk is and where the chair's adjustment. Someone much shorter than our Admiral sat in this chair. If this is his, he'd be unable to sit comfortably," I say.

    "He worked out of his office extensively right?" I ask and McGee nods.

    "His daughter stated that he was writing an autobiography of the family," he says.

    "This chair looks brand new. It doesn't look like it's been sat in for long periods of time, there's no aging." I take a seat in the chair.

    "The chair is stiff, it's hardly been used. Is there another desk in the home?" I ask.

    "I'm not sure, I know the daughter works occasionally from home. I think her office space is across the house," he says. I nod.

    "I'm gonna go look," I say. McGee nods and I leave the room to search for the other office.

    Walking through the house I check various rooms, when I get to the backside of the home near the sun room I find a small office area. There is a desk with a laptop, various office supplies like pens and notebooks. The space is feminine but muted. What I notice is that there is no chair in the space.

    "Bingo."