"I know-I called earlier. I don't think it was you I talked to, Mr. McGraw."
"Must not've been."
"I'm hoping to get in touch with her tonight, or tomorrow at the latest. When does she work next?"
"You tried her place? You got that address?"
"Yes, sir." Then she repeated: "When does Tera work next?"
But he shook his head. "She won't be back till day after tomorrow, earliest. Said she wanted a few days off."
A sinking feeling dropped into the detective's gut. Where the hell was Tera Jameson? And why had she picked now to disappear?"Say where she was going?"
Again, McGraw shook his head.
Erin wondered how he managed that so well without the benefit of a neck. "And you don't know when she'll be back?"
"Nope. Maybe day after tomorrow." Shrug. "She's gonna call in."
In the mirror, Erin noticed that the two girls dancing to Samantha Fox were not the ones who'd been on when she arrived-a bosomy brunette and a leggy black girl were reigning over their male court.
"You seem to give Tera a lot of leeway, Mr. McGraw."
"She's popular. Exotic. She was in Penthouse, you know."
"No, I didn't. Could I see her dressing room?"
"She's okay, no prima donna, like some of them. So I give her leeway, yeah."
"Her dressing room?"
The oddly handsome features beamed at her. "You got a warrant?"
Erin shook her head.
He half-smiled, his expression almost regretful. "I don't mean to be a prick about it, lady, but I do have to protect the privacy of my employees-and we are talkin' about one of my star dancers, here."
"You know I'll just be back, once I've got a warrant."
He nodded. "And at that time I will personally escort you to her dressing room."
Detective Erin Conroy left the club wondering if the management had just covered for Tera; maybe the dancer was even camped out there, in a back room or dressing area. One thing the detective knew: she needed search warrants for both Jameson's apartment and dressing room and she needed them now.
She would check with Captain Brass for his advice on which judge to wake up.
Catherine Willows was at a table having coffee in the break room, killing a few minutes while Helpingstine-who had arrived after checking out of his hotel to make a presentation of his evidence to them-got his fifty-thousand-dollar toy up and running again.
Sara ambled in, with the latest from Greg Sanders. Getting herself an apple juice from a fridge that thankfully held no Grissom experiments at the moment, Sara said, "None of the shoes from Ray Lipton's house match the prints from Dream Dolls."
Catherine couldn't find it in her to be surprised. "Did our boy Ray ditch them, y'suppose?"
Sara shrugged, sat, sipped. "Don't know…but what I do know is, the top print is the killer's, and Ray Lipton's shoe size is way bigger than the print. I'm starting to agree with you."
"About what?"
"That he's innocent."
"I didn't say he was. We don't have any evidence that proves he didn't do it either."
"Jeez, Cath-do you want him to be guilty, or innocent?"
"Yes," she said.
On that note, they finished their drinks and made their way down the hallway until they reached Catherine's office, where the door was open, Dan Helpingstine pushing his glasses up on his nose and waving for them to join him.
The tall, pug-nosed manufacturer's rep had his Tektive video machine all fired up, and he motioned for them to sit on either side of him. Catherine eased down on Helpingstine's left, Sara to his right, while on the monitor screen they could see the security tape from the front door at Dream Dolls.
"I spent a very long day getting to know these tapes," he said.
"Find anything?" Sara asked.
"I think so-you'll have to be the judge."
Catherine felt a spark of hope.
"This," Helpingstine said, "is your killer coming in."
They watched as their suspect moved through the door, face turned away from the camera, trying to slide through the frame quickly. The tech did his thing with the keyboard and the picture cleared somewhat. Again he separated their suspect from the surroundings and improved the picture even more.
"Freeze that for a moment," Catherine said.
Helpingstine obeyed.
"Look at the shoulders," she said. "Remember we said they didn't look broad enough to be Lipton's?"
"Yeah," Sara said slowly.
"Now look at the hips."
Helpingstine was smiling. "I was hoping you'd notice that. Men's shoulders are wider than their hips-women are the opposite."
Catherine and Sara traded significant looks, while Helpingstine unfroze the image and allowed it to move in slow motion, even as he worked on it some more.
From this high angle, they now were looking down on the figure from the side. All they could see of the head was the ball cap, an ear, the glasses, the beard and the corded muscles of the neck.
"Freeze that again!" Catherine said.
Helpingstine did.
"Can you zoom in?" Sara asked.
Catherine and Sara again traded glances-they were on the same page.
Helpingstine zoomed in on the head. Though they got significantly closer, the resolution grew worse accordingly, and it wasn't a big help.
Sara pressed closer, her nose practically against the screen, pointing. "What's that dark spot on the ear?"
The others leaned in closer too.
"I can't make anything out except a discoloration," Catherine said.
Helpingstine punched the keyboard and the ear blossomed to fill most of the screen.
"Is that just…pixelation?" Sara asked.
"No way," the tech said. "It's something-I just can't squeeze out enough res to tell what. Earring, maybe. Probably, in fact."
Eyebrow raised, Sara said, "Lipton doesn't have a pierced ear, does he?"
"No," Catherine said.
They sat back and looked at each other.
"Ray Lipton is innocent," Sara said.
Catherine nodded. "And Tera Jameson hated him."
"Well," Helpingstine said, "based upon unequivocal standards of anatomy, your killer is a female-in fake facial hair."
Catherine stood, pacing; Sara stood also, but planted herself. The wheels were turning now, for both of them.
"One of the strippers at Dream Dolls," Sara said, "told you Tera was a lesbian, and indicated Jenna was bisexual, right?"
"Right," Catherine said. "She also suggested that maybe Jenna Patrick and Tera Jameson weren't just roommates."
"But we don't have any evidence that they were having an affair," Sara said.
"Yet," Catherine said.
Sara rose. "Better call Conroy."
Catherine already had her phone out and was punching in numbers. By the time Catherine and Conroy had compared information, they came to the mutual conclusion that they needed to meet back at Tera Jameson's apartment.
"Let's roll," Catherine said to Sara.
"Conroy meeting us there?"
"Oh, yeah-with a warrant and the landlord."
But before they exited the office, Catherine went to thank Helpingstine. "Your next trip to Vegas," she said, "will be entirely on us-we may need you to testify."
"My pleasure," Helpingstine said, grinning. "Anything to get the word out about my baby…. Will you recommend to your superiors that they buy a Tektive?"
"Dan," Catherine said, pausing halfway out the door, "I'll recommend we invest in the company."
In the hallway, coming around a corner, Catherine and Sara almost collided with the burly, crew-cut Sergeant O'Riley.
"Just the lady I was lookin' to see," O'Riley said to Catherine, pleasantly. "Those jackets you had me tracking down-the Lipton Construction jackets?"
"Yes?"
He dug a notepad out of his breast shirt pocket, referred to a page as he said, "Twenty-six positive I.D.'s out of the twenty-seven…and all three that the Lipton Construction office girl had marked 'maybe' were correct. No idea about the other five…or the one we're short, out a the positive list."