Catherine was reaching for her cell phone when the results of her computer search came up.
The charity names all had something in common, too-they represented a colossal, arrogant thumbing-of-her-nose by Rene to anyone who sought to catch up with her.
The names had led Catherine to IMDb.com, the Internet Movie Database. And every one of the names of the fake charities came from a single source-The Sting, the 1973 film about clever con artists taking down a big score. D.S. Ward Worldwide was a reference to the picture's writer, David S. Ward; Jonathan Hooker, Johnny Hooker, Robert Redford's character; Pastor Henry Newman, taken from the first name of Henry Gondorff and the last name of the actor who'd played that role, Paul Newman…they all had some resonance within the famous movie. Robert Shaw had portrayed the villain, Lonnegan, his name and the character's showing up in a pair of the charities.
In a matter of seconds, she'd taken this in, and-hopping mad-she hit speed-dial for Warrick.
Surprisingly, she got Vega instead, as well as the distinctive sound of a wailing siren.
"Warrick's busy driving,"Vega said, signal crackling and breaking up. "We think Rene Fairmont's making a run for it."
"I'm sure she is," Catherine said. "That's what I called to tell you-she's got an escape route set up, conducive to picking up her stashes at the mailbox drops."
Vega said something that got eaten up in static-one of the downsides of working in Las Vegas was the cell phone signal sometimes just plain sucked.
"What?" she yelled into the phone.
Vega's voice came back, clearer now. "Warrick and I are headed for her house."
"I'll check the local drops," she said, clicked off, and ran out.
No red Grand Prix awaited in the driveway when Warrick pulled up to the ranch-style house on Rustic Ridge Drive with its browning lawn and FOR SALE sign. The CSI and the detective came out of the Tahoe, guns drawn. Warrick grabbed the ram out of the back-the Fairmont woman's flight gave them probable cause-and Vega led the way toward the house. Howling sirens in the distance told Warrick backup was on its way.
While Vega covered him, Warrick holstered his weapon long enough to swing the battering ram into the front door-the lock exploded inward, the door yawned open, and Warrick dropped the ram to pull his pistol again.
With Vega in the lead, the duo went through room by room. When the house was established as clear, the CSI holstered his gun and shook his head in frustration.
No doubt about it: Rene Fairmont was already gone.
The master bedroom, more than anything, told the story, the closet door thrown open, rejected clothes on the floor, the bed, and still hanging in the closet. The woman had clearly packed quickly and bailed.
"What next?" asked an exasperated Vega.
"Next," Warrick said, "we go through this damn house and see what we can find."
Not long after Warrick and Vega had hit the door, the uniforms had shown up, and they now had the neighborhood cordoned off.
Vega said, "Guess I better canvass the neighbors, and break up the siege outside. I don't suppose she's coming back…."
"Sure she is. Right after M.C. Hammer."
The detective sighed, and ambled out, saying, "Better put out an APB on her car, too."
After a cursory look around, Warrick retrieved his crime scene kit from the Tahoe and began work in earnest.
In the bedroom, little useful presented itself, at first. The CSI did find a cream-colored dress with red roses on it, on the floor, which he bagged. Then he rooted around in the closet, coming across something really worth finding: a plastic grocery bag on the floor containing several wigs, one of which was gray. A pair of glasses that looked like tri-focals but were clear glass was stuffed in the bag as well.
When Vega came back from his canvass of the neighbors, Warrick held up the wig in one evidence bag and the glasses in another.
The CSI said, "Meet the other Mabel Hinton."
"Hello Mabel," Vega said dryly.
"What about the neighbors?"
The detective shrugged. "Nobody's seen much. They say Rene Fairmont isn't a friendly neighbor. Keeps to herself. Woman next door says Rene left right before we got here. Says Rene loaded her car with suitcases before peeling away."
"You got the APB out, right?" Warrick asked.
"Yeah," Vega said. "But it's a big city and 'red Grand Prix' may not narrow it much…. Should we contact the airport and train station?"
"If you want, but Catherine says there's an escape route via car and interstate."
"Better cover our bases," Vega said, and got on his cell.
Warrick kept looking.
In the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, he found a drawer filled with elaborate theatrical makeup. Later, in the kitchen wastebasket, amid coffee grounds and other trash, he discovered forensics treasure: a square envelope in Mabel Hinton's handwriting addressed to Vivian Elliot and three typing-paper sheets of practice attempts (presumably by Rene Fairmont) to duplicate the signature that was part of Mabel's handwritten return address.
After bagging and tagging, Warrick shared this gold with Vega, who was pleased, or as pleased as the man could be with their angel of mercy on the run.
Warrick got on the cell and updated Catherine.
"Not just the wig and dress," he said, "but the greasepaint and the works-never mind Derek Fairmont…Rene could have run the UWN drama department from Rustic Ridge Drive."
"So," Catherine's voice crackled over the cell, "Rene went into Sunny Day in disguise, killed her victim, then just melted out of sight in all the distraction of the code blue."
"Looks like it," Warrick said. "That way she never drew attention to herself. Didn't want all the victims to die on her shift…. And she seems to have swiped an envelope from a get-well card sent to Vivian at Sunny Day. I got three pages of forger practice sheets, Cath."
"Sweet…. Look, Warrick, I'm going to the Rent-A-Box on Warm Springs. Why don't you and Sam meet up with me there?"
"How come?"
"If Rene's really splitting, maybe she'll stop to pick up some traveling money. One of the charities she used has a drop at the Rent-A-Box. I've been to two others with no luck."
"Maybe she hadn't been there yet."
"I called to post uniforms at both. Listen, I can't believe she won't stop at one of 'em, before she books it."
"On our way. Where on Warm Springs?"
"Strip mall near Green Valley Parkway."
"I know it," Warrick said. "See you there."
A block away from the Rent-A-Box, Catherine turned off the flashers (she wasn't using the siren, not wanting to warn Rene Fairmont), slowed down slightly, then passed through the last intersection and wheeled the Tahoe into the parking lot.
Along with the mailboxes location, half a dozen or so other businesses made up the modest strip mall, with maybe fifteen cars in the parking lot. She quickly scanned the vehicles for Rene's Grand Prix, didn't see it, but then caught a glimpse of bright red beyond a big navy blue SUV….
Pulling forward, to see past the SUV, Catherine's flicker of red identified itself as a red Pontiac Grand Prix all right. The CSI was about to pull forward, to block the car's path, when the Pontiac suddenly backed out of its parking place, nearly hitting the Tahoe, and zoomed out of the parking lot to turn west onto Warm Springs Road.
Catherine, having slammed on the brakes when the Pontiac backed up, needed a few seconds to get moving forward again. By that time, the light at the exit had changed and she watched helplessly as several cars slowly eased past her while, up the road, the red Pontiac threatened to disappear.
Using her ear bud, Catherine could talk to Warrick on the phone and keep her hands free to drive. That was, of course, if the damned line of cars ever got out of her way….