Chapter Three
The church parking lot was now ablaze with red and blue lights from police squad cars and the minivan for the Clarke County coroner. News crew vans were encamped as close as the police allowed, cameramen herding their reporters to prime spots to report from. A barricade was in place along tape to cordon the scene along with several feet of tarpaulin raised to block the view of the press and curious bystanders. One female reporter who was impeccably dressed and groomed saw to it that her position was the most prominent vantage point. The other reporters gave her a respectful berth. She checked her in-ear monitor and smoothed her well-coiffed hair back, listening intently to being told they were going live in 15 seconds. Her cameraman turned on his overhead light to prominently display her as he motioned "three, two, one…"
"This is Paula Francis of KLAS Channel 8 News with a breaking story. The St. Joan of Arch Church is one of the oldest churches in Las Vegas. The sanctity of another house of worship has been desecrated yet again with the discovery of what is believed to be the body of a sixth woman found dumped in a church parking lot at the rate of one a week. Police are offering no details at this time besides confirming that an anonymous tip was called in. This does deviate from the discovery of the five other young women whose bodies were found by church employees or parishioners coming early to pray," the woman continued to speak animatedly into her microphone as she gestured toward the parking lot where a sheet was being held up by two LVPD officers.
Brass glared at the female reporter from where he was standing as Sara and Greg joined him. He jerked his thumb toward the well-known anchorwoman with a sarcastic grimace. "I wondered when the queen bee of the local leering press was going to finally arrive to see what she can stir up. You gotta love it."
David stepped from behind the sheet with a thermometer in one gloved hand. He nodded at Sara and Greg. "The liver core temperature indicates time of death to be two to three hours ago and rigor mortis is beginning to set. Both wrists show horizontal slashes and all the major vessels of the neck have been transected. Watch your step."
"I'm calling the victim's description in to see if we have any potential matches before I canvass the area. There's a 7-11 close by and I'll see if the night clerk saw or heard anything," Brass informed them before he turned away to continue his call.
"Just like the others," murmured Sara.
"I'll take the walk around if you want to take care of her," suggested Greg.
"Yeah, fine by me," Sara agreed, reaching to open her kit.
Greg began to sweep the parking lot with his flashlight while he walked the area in a grid-like fashion. As he neared the body where Sara was working, taking preliminary photos, he noticed something strange.
"Hey, Sara," Greg called her way.
"Yes?" Sara covered the camera lens and carefully made her to where Greg was standing. "What's up?"
"Look at the areas of blood loss on the left side of the body. Note the two narrow tracks between the outstretched arm to the head and neck, then on the other side there are three large smears. It almost looks like something tried to roll over the victim from the position of the head, and it appears that someone lost their lunch a few feet from there," Greg observed.
"You're right. These are two very narrow but symmetrical wheel tracks, Greg," Sara concurred while she snapped photos of the red tracks. "The splotchy smears you noted on the other side of the body could be from some type of contact with cloth. You know the drill…take some swab samples of the smears and collect the emesis."
Greg nodded and pulled out what he needed from his kit. The two CSI's were continuing to process the scene when Brass returned several minutes later.
"Well, I may have something," Brass said glancing at his notepad.
"Such as?" asked Sara with a slight smile looking up at him between photos.
"The night clerk said about an hour ago four kids with skateboards burst into the store demanding change to make a phone call. He recalls one of the kids had a red-stained faded yellow T-shirt. They looked like the crap had been scared out of them but he gave them the money and they left. The clerk went on to say that the church is a favorite spot for the skateboarder kids. I checked with the 911 switchboard and the time and phone number correlate for the pay phone outside of the 7-11 when those kids blew in," Brass concluded and closed his notepad.
"Think one of those boarder kids had a close encounter of the dead body kind and then puked his guts up?" Greg considered as he looked back at the narrow wheel tracks between areas of blood collection.
"Brass, did the clerk recognize the kids as regulars?" Sara asked.
"He indicated they come in at night once in a while but he couldn't come up with any names. I'm going to have him come by the station to check out juvenile photos but he's to call me if they show back up," Brass related before he was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. "This is Brass."
As the detective's conversation continued, Sara and Greg resumed their processing but could hear from Jim's tone that he wasn't going to be a happy camper from it.
"Guess what?" Brass growled when he closed his phone.
"Thank you, sir, may I have another?" Greg offered with a straight face.
"Very funny, Sanders. Undersheriff McKeen's caught in traffic on the I-15 from an accident and has asked yours truly to give a statement to the press," Brass rumbled and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Brass, you'll do fine. Just keep it brief," Sara recommended.
"Oh, I intend to. Let the chief or undersheriff have their 15 minutes of fame instead," Jim said as he reluctantly headed toward the reporters.
David had stayed nearby even though he had released the body before the CSI's had initiated their investigation. That was not usual for him. Sara glanced at him curiously.
"Anything else, David?"
The bespectacled, somewhat cherubic round face looked startled out of his thoughts.
"Uh, no, Sara, it's just getting to be where I'm waiting for another week to come and the next one is found," David said looking sadly at the body.
"Me too, David, but we're all working hard so that won't be the case," Sara replied softly. "You can take her in about thirty minutes."
Brass blinked from the glare of the camera lights while another LVPD officer announced to the assembled reporters that the homicide detective would give a statement and accept a few questions from reporters he chose. With an internal sigh of resignation, he straightened his tie and stepped forward.
Paula wasted no time in thrusting her microphone into his face. "Detective Brass, can you confirm this to be the latest victim of Vegas' newest serial killer?"
"Ms. Francis, the other officer had indicated I was going to give a statement and then answer a FEW questions. Since you decided to put the cart before the horse, I can only say that the body of a young woman has been found. Now, you there from Channel 4....," Jim was motioning to another reporter.
"Detective Brass, you didn't answer my question," Paula insisted as she stepped in front of the other reporter who mouthed a silent protest of one word consisting of four letters.
"I can appreciate your persistence, Ms. Francis, and I have answered your question to MY satisfaction. But the other gentleman is also allowed his question so if you don't mind," Brass redirected as Paula gave him a frosty stare but maintained her professional composure.
"Detective Brass, you state the body found as that of a young woman. Was she nude like the others?" the male reporter queried.
"As stated it was the body of a young woman and the crime scene investigators are going over the area with a fine tooth comb as always. More details will be made available tomorrow during a news conference the undersheriff will be having in the early afternoon at a time to be announced. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," Brass finished as the reporters continued to shout out questions. He gave a slight nod toward Paula Francis whose cold glare shot icicle daggers his way.
Jim's eyes roved over the nearby onlookers while speaking to three officers who were doing crowd control. He saw a group of teenagers…one in particular catching his eye…holding skateboards. Still maintaining a casual air, he turned his back to the crowd while talking into his 2-way radio and the officers headed on to their squad cars as they used a bullhorn and arm motions to tell the crowd to disperse and go home.
"See, I told you, no sweat," the leader of the kids sneered as he put his board on the ground to skate off. The other kids did the same when they found themselves suddenly surrounded by two squad cars and a police K-9 officer. The German Shepherd's deep barks and threatening growls kept the kids at bay as Brass strode up.
"Well, as they say down south, you boys are in a heap a trouble," Brass told them before he informed them they were being taken in for questioning. The kids were dumbfounded before protesting they knew their rights and when did they get their phone calls.
Brass stepped up and poked the first youth who was the loudest in voicing their innocence in the chest. "You'll get your phone call for your mama to come down and wipe your butt for you. Take 'em on, Officer Carlson." Jim nodded at the other officer who promptly put the kid into the squad car with his buddies.
Jim was now aware of Sara and Greg joining them as David had left in the minivan to take the victim back to the morgue.
"Loved the way you worked the press, Brass, it was genius," Greg remarked.
"Watch it, Sanders," Brass warned.
"It's been a long night already, guys, and we've got more to do back at the lab," Sara intervened as she pointed to their vehicles.
"Yeah, well at least another press conference doesn't await me," a relieved Brass sighed.
His next stop was the LVPD where he'd called Detective Vartann on the way to ask for help interviewing the four teens taken in for questioning from the crime scene.
The kids had been split into two interview rooms. He'd take the one with the kid with the bloodstained shirt and the so-called leader of the group. Sara had told him she would join him to assist. Vartann would take the other room along with Greg.
Brass walked in with Sara. They took their seats across from the youths. The kid who had been wearing the bloodstained T-shirt, which had been taken for evidence, now wore a "Property of the LVPD XXL" shirt instead. He was chewing anxiously on a fingernail while his friend, the apparent leader, mustered a stoic appearance that bordered on nonchalant.
"So, what were you upstanding and law-abiding young citizens doing out after curfew tonight?" Brass started in a sarcastic tone.
"We were on our way to the old folks' home to sing Kumbaya," replied the leader kid with a sneer.
"I wouldn't be so overconfident, Junior. You and your buds were at a crime scene just to check it out I suppose. How is it that your sidekick here has blood on his T-shirt that matches smeared pools of blood of the murder victim?" Brass wasted no time in setting the tone of the interview.
Sara began to set out a series of pictures taken of the victim. The kid in the LVPD shirt went pale and glanced away. Even the leader kid looked rattled as his eyes darted from photo to photo.
"We know it was her blood was on your shirt. Just tell us what happened. Did you see anyone else or notice anything?" Sara encouraged the LVPD T-shirt kid.
He looked at his friend, the leader of their group for guidance, who merely shrugged. "Tell 'em, we got nothin' to hide."
"We were just hangin' out, skatin' around the 'hood. The church is a good spot to go to. The lights around there are always half out so we're used to cruisin' through in the dark. I was going first to go to the fountain and hit the stairs 'n rails. Man, I was going balls to the walls when all of a sudden I hit something and I go flying off my board. I got rolled a few times, my board nailing me in the 'nads."
Brass grimaced slightly, relating as only a fellow male could while the kid continued.
"Look…I…I…I didn't know I had anything on my shirt until one of my bros told me and then we got a look at what I hit. We didn't see nothin' else…" the kid shuddered as his voice trailed away.
"We told you, man, we didn't do anything wrong. We called it in, didn't we? Don't we get a reward or somethin'?" the leader kid now challenged as his arrogance reasserted itself.
"Yeah, you get a reward alright. No night in juvie for you punks. You're not released until your parents come for you. Take' em to youth detention," Brass motioned to the jail guard.
Sara shook her head after the kids were taken out of the room. "Brass, it's obvious they just stumbled into this."
"Right, makes you confident about our future in their hands one day, smart asses," Jim rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck.
Vartann opened the door to poke his head in. "Brass, we got nothing. Same for you?"
Brass nodded wearily. "Just send them on to detention to wait with their bros for their parents to come for them."
Sara stretched slightly as Brass stood up with her. "Go home, Jim, and get some rest. Let's hope this one will give us something this time."
"See you," Jim said as he headed the opposite way toward his office.