But a good witness? Endlessly harder…yet, for once, Grissom seemed to be on the short list of the lucky in Vegas. Despite mild and understandable nerves, Benson appeared sure of what he'd seen and that could prove very helpful in court.
What would be even more helpful, though, was evidence; even a reliable eyewitness was a human being, after all, and Gil Grissom preferred not to count on human beings.
He moved up the road to check on Sara and Warrick. They were both standing over the bundle on the side of the road now, and-engine noise attracting his attention, as he walked to join his colleagues-Grissom turned to see Benson's Corolla making a U-turn and heading back south on Las Vegas Boulevard.
As he approached, the criminalist recognized the sickly sweet stench of death, of decay; but even on the breeze, it didn't seem as overwhelming as one might expect, given its pungency.
Grissom looked from Sara to Warrick, finding no clues in their business-like expressions. He was putting on his wire-frame glasses as he said, "So. What have we got?"
"Well, it's definitely a body," Sara said, shining her flashlight down on a piece of carpeting about six feet in length and rolled three or four times around something; then, with duct tape, the whole bundle had been sealed once around the middle and around each end.
Sara gave Grissom a quick tour of the corpse, using the flashlight like an usher leading him to a theater seat. He could see at one end of the enchilada-like shape the dark hair of the top of a human head, and at the other bare feet, white but for heels blue with lividity.
"Smell is minimized," Sara said, "because this package is fairly well-wrapped…but that's not the whiff of somebody who died a few hours ago."
"Not hardly," Warrick said, with a quick lift of the eyebrows.
"Possibly a female," Grissom offered.
"From the small feet," Sara said, "I would say so, yeah. Could be a child, but not a young one-this body is over five feet tall."
Grissom nodded his curt approval of her assessment, then said, "All right. What else have we accomplished?"
"Photographed from every angle," Sara said.
Warrick added, "I've got some prints marked. I'll cast them as soon as we're done here." He pointed and Grissom followed the gesture. "Piece of red plastic up on the road."
"Taillight, maybe?"
Warrick nodded. "Taillight, maybe."
Again Grissom nodded his satisfaction. "Could be a nice find. Our witness mentioned the dump vehicle had a broken tail."
"Dumper broke it, trying to unload the body?" Sara wondered aloud.
"Possibility."
Warrick squinted at Grissom. "You seeing it, Gris?"
"I'm seeing a possibility," he said, and told them.
A white Chevrolet Monte Carlo pulls to a stop in the northbound land of Las Vegas Boulevard. It's dark and no one appears to be around. A driver in dark clothes climbs out of the car, looks around, sees nothing, then hurries around to the trunk, struggles with the rolled-up bundle inside and finally hefts it out. As he does, the bundle strikes the corner of the taillight, breaking out a small piece of plastic that falls unseen to the pavement.
Also unseen by the driver: Benson's Corolla, sitting up the road in the darkness, the surveillance-camera salesman surveiling every move the man makes.
The driver carries the rug and corpse to the side of the road, moves a few feet onto the dusty shoulder, his footprints clear in the dirt as he does, and he dumps the body to the ground. As he returns to the car, he sees his tracks and blots out some of the prints, but it's dark and he doesn't completely erase them all.
Then the driver slams the trunk lid, takes a quick look around and sees nothing; he climbs into his car and drives away.
Looking back down at the wrapped package, Grissom asked Sara, "You were about to unroll it?"
"Well, yeah," Sara said. Now she was squinting at her boss, detecting something in his voice. "Shouldn't we?"
"Let's do that back at the lab."
"You sure, Gris?" Warrick asked. "Once we remove this from the crime scene, we-"
"We've got photos, right?"
The two looked at each other, shrugged, then both nodded.
"Okay." He cast a smile on the younger CSIs, so they could tell he wasn't displeased. "I prefer to open this particular package in as clean an environment as we can get…and that means the lab."
"Not the side of a road," Warrick said, nodding, seeming vaguely irritated with himself that he hadn't come to the same conclusion.
Sara hadn't made the jump yet, it seemed, as she said, "You sure don't want to have a look now?"
He shook his head. "I bet you could never wait for Christmas morning. We'll do it at the lab."
Now Sara was nodding. A few moments later, the ambulance crew ambled up: two men, one short and thin, the other tall and thin, dressed in their blue uniforms; they took positions alongside the edge of the road and impatience came off them like heat over asphalt.
After a while, the short one asked, "How long you guys going to be?"
Grissom turned, looked at the man with a withering expression Medusa might have envied. "Well, the 'guys' and I-which is to say these criminalists-will be here as long as we need to be."
The short one shot him a defensive look, but swallowed nervously, saying nothing.
"But as long as you're here," Grissom said, suddenly cheerful, "you can help."
The tall one gulped and asked, "How?"
"Get us a clean sheet-the biggest one you've got. And a new body bag."
"Not the gurney?" the short one asked.
"Not yet," Grissom said. He held up one finger. "A sheet…" He held up another finger. "…and a new body bag. New."
They shuffled off to their ambulance, and a couple of minutes later returned with a huge white sheet and, atop a gurney they'd hauled over, a body bag, which they brought to the edge of the road.
"Okay, gentlemen," Grissom said. "Let's lay out the sheet, and then oh so carefully rest our package on top of it."
Frowning, the short one asked, "We're taking the whole thing?"
"Yes. We'll load it up and take it back to the lab."
"Carpet and all?"
Grissom's expression was only technically a smile. "When one says 'whole thing,' that would indicate carpet and all, yes. Is there a problem?"
"That thing could really mess up our…" After trailing off, the short one glanced over at the body bag.
Grissom frowned. "That's not a new one, is it?"
"Well, it's the newest one we've got," the tall one said.
Despite what people might assume, body bags were not a one-time-use article. The truth was they simply cost too much. Grissom, however, had requested a pristine one because he didn't want to have to worry about any cross-contamination.
True, body bags were cleaned thoroughly after every grim use; but for his evidence to stand up in court, Grissom knew he needed a brand-new bag.
"Warrick," he said, at last.
"Papa needs a brand new bag?"
"I don't care what anybody says," Grissom said, flicking a little grin at Warrick. "You're the hardest-working man in show business…and you're going to prove it by heading over to Nellis and tell them what we need."
"And what we need is a brand-new body bag."
"Yes."
The Air Force base would have new bags. They had very little use for them here; but they had them on hand, just in case.
Sara gave Warrick a sunny if sarcasm-laced smile. "See-you get all the fun jobs."
"Greaaat," Warrick growled, like a depressed Tony the Tiger. "Haven't been on a scavenger hunt since grade school."
"Well, you do get to drive yourself," Grissom said, reminding him. "We'll stay here and work the scene."