An Old Find
It was a nice day for baseball, and a large group of people were playing in a park. The bat cracked, the ball launched into the air, and fielders scrambled to catch it. The ball sailed over a fence and dived down into a gully just outside of the park. The game was temporarily suspended as the guys trotted over to have a look. What they saw surprised them; there was the body of a very old pickup truck lodged in a pile of broken trees, rocks and sand. The baseball had landed on the hood. Several of the younger men climbed down to get it, and one looked into the front window and froze. A crumpled skeleton lay inside the cab. The police were called, and they inspected the old wreck curiously. From all appearances, the truck had been down there for quite some time. Why hadn't anyone seen it? Had it been buried for awhile, and then lately unburied by a spring flood? They called CSI about the body. Then they decorated the area with yellow tape. As if. The gully was pretty steep. Not many people would want to climb down just to have a closer look.
The CSI group arrived. As this was an "old" case, Grissom sent along some students with a couple regulars. They carefully climbed down and set up, with the regulars standing by, watching the students as they worked. They decided to dig out the door rather than break the window. One guy trimmed back the branches, while the others dug out the door. Then they opened it a few inches, and then it caught. They couldn't budge it further, until a regular handed them some WD40. "Spray some of this on the hinges. Get them good and wet." So they sprayed on the WD40, and got the door open with some more struggling. There was the skeleton, sprawled all over the seat and floor. It was dressed in a man's clothing, or what remained of clothing. They carefully removed the bones, noting each one into a tape recorder. One student took pictures. There were a couple of briefcases on the seat next to the body, so they took them, and checked out the rest of the cab. There were several more cases under the seat, and a revolver lying on the rider's side floor. The last case broke open as they took it out of the cab and money started falling out! Yikes! A moment of surprised confusion, then a regular CSI employee opened another case and his eyebrows rose a couple inches. He closed the case quickly, and summoned the police, who were up on the bank. They came down and took away all the cases and the rusted revolver. Then the CSI officials left, carrying off the bones.
When they got to the office, other cases were waiting, so they went off in different directions. But this was a job that wasn't done yet, for all of the briefcases had thousands of dollars in them. The dates on the money was in the late 1930's, suggesting that they'd been stolen at a time when Las Vegas was just beginning to move. Who was this guy? How had he wound up in the riverbed? The doctor in the morgue was intrigued. He wandered up from his domain and into Grissom's office. Grissom was surprised; it wasn't often that this man came up into this wing. "What brings you up here?" he asked. "The bones from that old pick up. Did you find any ID?" asked the doctor. Grissom thought a moment, and then shook his head. "No. What's up?" "Oh, I was just curious, that's all." the man paused, as if trying to decide what to say next. Grissom interrupted. "Don't tell me that he was a relative of yours. What was he doing, making a run with his gang's cash?" The doctor grinned. "Nah. He's no relation that I know of. Or will admit to, anyway." They chuckled together a moment. "There's gotta be a way to ID him, though. Got a bored student? Put him on the search!" suggested the doctor. Grissom turned his head so that it rested at an angle. Then he raised his eyebrow. "Ok. Do I send you regular reports?"
If the skeleton could tell tales, he would speak of quietly gathering up the briefcases meant for another man. He would tell of dreams of islands in the Caribbean, of better days on the beach. Then he would then break off and sigh. He had been able to escape with the cash, but not the thunderstorm that had turned a small stream into a raging river and had torn away the main supports of a certain bridge. But the skeleton could not speak. And the student couldn't find anything in the newspaper records. A few days later after more checking, Grissom suggested talking to a reporter. Maybe somebody out there lost somebody back then? Or lost a pile of money? Heck, even a reference to the bridge would be helpful. They knew that the truck had washed downstream, but how far? Which bridge was the one that he'd fallen from? Grissom's students put together the bridge part by elimination and old references. The truck had been pushed downstream about a mile before becoming entangled in rocks and trees. The bridge was never rebuilt, in fact, that part of the creek had been enclosed in a pipe and there was a parking lot over top of it. That the truck had managed to escape detection for so long was something of a miracle.
There were several good guesses about where the money had come from, stories in the papers about thefts and so forth. But all the "bad guys" of the time were accounted for, more or less. Could it have been a brother? A cousin? An old friend? One casino owner read about the case in the newspaper and decided to have some fun. He held a "mystery night" with all the available clues, and let his patrons have fun with them. Prizes were awarded to the best guesses. But; it remained unsolved. The police put it in their Unsolved Crimes list, and Grissom puzzled over it until the next mystery appeared. The skeleton was buried with a Jazz band accompanying the casket and a character playing a lost bride. Just in case.