Grissom used another swab on the open mouth of the startled aide.
Pleasantly, the CSI said, "You're a suspect, too, Mr. Anthony. You also stand to gain from this woman's death. And I'm sure you're eager to be cleared, as soon as possible."
Speechless for a change, Anthony stood there, staring in dismayed wonder at the criminalist.
Mobley's attitude, however, remained professional. His face moving from Brass to Grissom and back, he said, "We've had our differences, gentlemen. But I appreciate what you're trying to do. All I ask is that you catch whoever did this thing."
Dealing with the swabs, Grissom beamed and said, "We're processing evidence as we speak."
Diplomatically, Brass said, "Sheriff, we already have some leads-we're on top of it."
Mobley seemed to stare into nothing for several moments; he sighed, tasted his tongue, then asked, quietly, "Did either of you know the Lewis girl? Ever meet her?"
Brass shook his head; Grissom, too. Anthony lurked on the periphery, hanging back now-since the swabbing, he seemed a little afraid.
Meanwhile, Mobley joined the sad choreography of shaking heads. "Hell of a nice kid. Bright. Going places. I really liked her, even if she was working for Harrison."
Anthony, his voice different, said, "For a while there, we were dealing with Candace…Ms. Lewis…more often, more directly, than the mayor."
Mobley shifted on his feet; his tone shifted, too. "Jim…Gil…Even though my candidacy hasn't been announced, I'm not gonna lie to you-I want to be mayor. With the exception of my family, my career is the most important thing in my life, and this is the biggest career move I've ever contemplated…. But I do not relish becoming mayor thanks to the misfortune of another. Not Candace Lewis, not Darryl Harrison. I want this badly…but not like this. Never like this."
Grissom had to admire the dignity of that.
Brass seemed a little embarrassed by Mobley's earnestness. He said, "I've only met the mayor once or twice, Brian-what can you tell me about him?"
The sheriff thought about that for a moment. Then a little smile blossomed and he even summoned a rueful laugh. "Maybe I'm not the one you should be asking."
"But I am asking," Brass insisted.
Grissom watched the interplay with interest: he didn't know if Brass was fishing for something, or was maybe taking the opportunity to make Mobley squirm.
Finally, after a long sigh, Mobley said, "I will tell you this: Darryl Harrison's a good man. We have different political views, but have I nothing to say about him, negatively, on a personal level." He shrugged. "I just don't happen to think he's the right man to lead Las Vegas for the next four years."
"Then he's honest?" Brass asked.
"Far as I know," Mobley replied, with a nod.
"No skeletons in the closet?"
The sheriff grunted a mirthless laugh. "Why don't you just ask it, Jim-was he sleeping with her?"
Brass's smile was there, then gone. Grissom wondered if he'd really seen it or just thought he had.
"Well-was he?" the detective asked.
"I don't know. And I don't have to tell you, we didn't conduct the investigation into the disappearance. That was the FBI. And if the federal boys found any evidence of Harrison and the girl having an affair, they didn't share it with me."
"The tabloids say they were."
"How seriously do you take that?"
A beat, and then Brass asked, "No plans to hint at it in the campaign?"
"I can't say we didn't discuss it," Mobley said. "Frankly, it was Ed here who was pushing for it, and you can ask him yourself-I told him there was no way I wanted to go there."
They all glanced at Anthony, who confirmed his boss's story with a nod. But then, he would, wouldn't he? Grissom thought.
Brass said, "I'm aware your official press position's been that you won't discuss it."
Mobley nodded insistently. "That's right. Exactly right."
"Obviously, this is no time to change that policy."
"Obviously." Looking from the detective to the CSI, Mobley asked, "Is that all you want to know?"
In his patented angelic manner, Grissom posed an apparent non sequitur: "Do you have carpeting in your home, Brian?"
The sheriff blinked. "Well, sure. Some. Living room, bedroom."
"How new is it?"
Mobley shrugged. "Well, hell…I don't know."
"We'll need to take a sample," Grissom said.
Finally realizing what Grissom was doing, Mobley sighed. "Send somebody out whenever you want. Could you wait until I've spoken with my family about this?"
Grissom's cell phone rang and Anthony jumped; the conversation froze while the CSI plucked it off his belt and hit the button. "Grissom."
"Sara, Gil. We checked City Hall records…from when Candace Lewis started work? Fingerprints are a match."
"Thanks," Grissom said and ended the call.
Turning to the sheriff, he said, "Fingerprints confirm the body's definitely Candace Lewis. You better start working on that statement, Brian-the press is going to have this before long."
Not asking if they were done this time, Mobley turned to leave and practically tripped over Anthony, who hustled to get out of the office ahead of his boss.
And when the politician and his toady were gone, Brass laughed nastily and said, "That's why I love working for that man-he's always so inspiring."
"Tell you the truth, Jim," Grissom said, "I thought the sheriff behaved rather well."
"Yeah. Well. I guess you're right. But that guy Anthony is a piece of work."
Feeling that comment required no confirmation, Grissom said, "I'm going back to check on how our side's doing. Interested?"
"Right behind you."
Doc Robbins was still in the middle of the autopsy, and Warrick and Sara were in the midst of processing various elements recovered from the carpet. They seemed not to be in need of help, so Grissom and Brass returned to the former's office where he turned on the TV on a small stand in the corner, and waited. He knew it wouldn't be long and he was right.
Less than an hour later-a time period during which Grissom humored Brass by discussing with him various political ramifications of the situation, none of which interested the CSI except in terms of enumerating suspects-the Candace Lewis story took over the airwaves.
Local anchorman Bernie Gonzalez's slicked-back black hair and expensive suit filled the screen as the local news interrupted a soap opera, so Mobley could give his press conference about their real-life soap opera. Grissom wondered if the interruption was merely for the Vegas audience or if it had gone national.
The picture shifted to City Hall where Mobley stood behind a lectern out front near Stewart Avenue. The sun beat down from almost straight overhead and a gaggle of reporters formed a semicircle in front of Mobley.
"I have a short statement to make," Mobley said, unfolding a single sheet of white paper and spreading it out onto the lectern. "And then I'll take a few questions."
The reporters shuffled a little, but didn't interrupt.
"Most of you already know that the body found on North Las Vegas Boulevard this morning was that of Candace Lewis, the missing personal assistant of Mayor Darryl Harrison. The sheriff's department-as well as my family and myself-wish to extend our deepest condolences to the Lewis family. I would like to assure them, in fact to promise them, that the LVMPD will do its very best to bring her murderer to justice. Questions?"
"Will you be heading the investigation?" one of the reporters yelled.
"No."
Before a follow-up could be addressed to the sheriff, another reporter blurted, "Are you planning to run for mayor?"
"That subject is not appropriate to this press conference. But I will say that my candidacy for that office is under serious consideration."