"Still, they're not taking any chances," Grissom said. "The girl is paranoid about her over-protective parents…and whoever's under that ball cap may well know he's about to commit murder."
Archie grunted. "Date night in Vegas."
"Nice catch, Archie. Play it all the way through, will you?"
The lab tech did.
Eyes on the window, Grissom watched Kathy and her baseball cap date embrace, then turn and go.
Frustrated, Grissom asked, "We never see his face at all?"
"There's one second worth a close look," Archie said. He cued up the tape, ran it to the point just before the guy pushed open the door to leave, his arm around Kathy, both of them with their backs to the camera. "Check out the glass door."
At first Grissom couldn't make out anything but shadows. Then Archie did a frame-by-frame advance, walking Grissom through, and suddenly the face appeared in the window.
Even though the hat covered the man's hair and the guy did his best to keep his face lowered, for a second frozen in time, Grissom could see the face clearly.
This, at last, was the evidence he needed.
"How did I do, Grissom?"
"Archie-A-plus-plus."
The lab tech grinned just as Grissom's cell phone trilled.
"Grissom."
"It's me," Sara said. "Talked to Janie Glover. She says FB means Funeral Boy. You'll never guess who that is!"
"Jimmy Doyle?"
"Damn it, Grissom!" Sara's exasperation leapt from the phone. "A hundred years ago, they'd've burned you as a witch!"
Grissom smiled. "Thank you."
If Grissom had a problem with Black as a suspect, then Jim Brass had a problem, too. He had faith in the CSI supervisor's instincts, even if Grissom himself claimed such things as hunches and assumptions weren't in his makeup. The detective decided that the best thing for now was to re-interview the mortician.
In interview room one, Black-now garbed in the standard prisoner orange jumpsuit-was marched in by a uniformed officer, who (at Brass's behest) removed the mortician's handcuffs.
Once Black was seated, Brass hit RECORD and asked Black to state his name.
Black did.
Brass said, "You indicated you were going to call your attorney. Can we proceed without him?"
"I did call my attorney only to discover that my wife has secured his services in a divorce action. He gave me a referral number to a criminal lawyer, who I have a call into."
"You are, however, willing to speak to me?"
"I'll answer any questions that I think may help you unravel this affair. I am innocent, Captain Brass. Some of what I told you…in the van the other night, before you read my rights to me?…I was in an emotional state. I won't go into those matters again until I've discussed them with my criminal representation."
"Fair enough."
That meant that the mortician's affair with Kathy, the loveless marriage to Cassie, and details about the night of Kathy's disappearance remained off-the-record. Still, Brass decided to press on, guiding Black to the day of Rita Bennett's funeral.
"What happened after the service?" Brass asked.
Black said, "We got the congregation out, then the three of us-Mark, Jimmy, and I-moved the coffin."
"Do you remember how?"
"On a cart, of course."
"No-what I mean is…in what order? Who pushed, who pulled?"
"Oh." He thought about it. "Mark was in front…Jimmy and I pushed the casket."
"And then?"
"Jimmy realized he'd left a floral spray behind in the chapel. I told him to go back and get it. Then…when we got to the door…I sent Mark after the hearse."
"And you were alone with the body."
"Yes. Yes, yes, yes! But I didn't-"
"Settle down, Mr. Black. Think back-is there any possibility you were away from the casket, for even a few moments?"
"No, I…well." He frowned, and then his eyes widened. "Actually, there was…but only for a little while…a minute at the most."
"Tell me."
The mortician was staring into his memory as it came back to him. "I was with the casket, but Marie…one of our part-timers…came and said I had a phone call, someone wanted to talk to me right away. Marie followed me back, and I rushed to my office to tell whoever it was I'd call them later…only by the time I got to the phone, the line was dead. When I returned to the rear area, Jimmy and Mark had Rita's…or what I thought was Rita's casket…loaded. I got into the limo and drove the family to the cemetery."
"All three of you were together after that, through the graveside service? The casket was never out of your sight?"
"No, just when I briefly went to get the phone."
"Why didn't you mention this before?"
"I'm sorry…. I'd completely forgotten, because when I got there, there was no one on the line. Captain Brass…do you think somehow that's when the bodies were switched? But there wouldn't be time, would there?"
"Thanks, Mr. Black. I appreciate your help."
"You almost sound like…like you…believe me, Captain."
"I believe you enough," Brass said, "to go check the phone records…. Stay put. This shouldn't take long."
Sara was seated across from Grissom in the latter's office when Nick, looking very pleased with himself, leaned in.
"You will never guess," Nick said, "whose fingerprints were on that gun…."
"Jimmy Doyle," Sara and Grissom said simultaneously.
Nick's astonishment was matched only by his disappointment. He fell into a chair with a dazed look.
"How," he managed, "could you have guessed that?"
"I didn't guess, Nick," Grissom said. "Sara got videotape from the security camera at that convenience store in Pahrump. Archie helped us spot Jimmy Doyle, picking up Kathy Dean on what appears to be the night she disappeared."
Sara said, "And one of Kathy's friends told me that FB…you know, the initials from the Lady Chatterley note? Was 'Funeral Boy,' Jimmy Doyle's user ID…. Don't feel bad, Nick. When I called Grissom to share this scoop, he already knew about Doyle." She gave her boss a look. "From the videotape I provided, I might point out."
"Hey," Grissom said. "Credit where credit is due."
Nick said, "My money says the black hairs in the coffin with Kathy Dean are also Jimmy Doyle's."
Brass stuck his head in the door. "Thought you CSIs would like to know that occasionally somebody else cracks a case around here…."
"Really?" Grissom said.
Brass stepped in, his expression smug. "Black says he got called away to the telephone…at the moment when he was alone with that casket. I just tracked the number that called, and guess whose cell phone it belongs to?"
"Jimmy Doyle," the three CSIs said in perfect unison.
For a moment Brass just stood there, looking like he'd been doused with a bucket of water.
Then, without even asking Grissom and company for an explanation, Brass said, "Why don't we go nail his ass?"
When uniformed officers had no luck finding Doyle at his home, Grissom obtained Dustin Black's keys, and Brass got the security code from the mortician.
Soon Grissom, Brass, Nick, and Sara were racing toward the mortuary, the first two in the Taurus, the latter pair in a Tahoe. Heading to Desert Haven had been Nick's suggestion.
"Besides his house, it's the only place we know of where we may find the kid…and if Doyle thinks after being interviewed we could be zeroing in on him, then he'd want to get rid of any evidence that might still be at the mortuary."
Sara had wondered, "You don't think Rita Bennett's body could still be there?"
"It's possible."
Grissom pointed out that even if Doyle didn't think he was a suspect, the boy had hidden the probable murder weapon in the mortuary…and had no knowledge that the CSIs had already found it.