Chapter Four
Peter MacDougal stirred restlessly in his chair in interrogation room three of the Metro PD, casting a furtive glance at the silent uniformed deputy standing guard nearby. He was not looking forward to another round of questioning with Captain Brass, especially after his request for legal counsel. The detective had been terse with him and pressed hard the idea that he knew he'd hit someone with his truck and deliberately kept going. The court appointed attorney was set to arrive and be present for this questioning session but he found himself taking little solace in that having not met the lawyer beforehand.
The door opened and he looked up expectantly as a blonde-haired young man impeccably groomed, dressed in a sharp dark business suit, and appearing to be in his late twenties at best came inside to crisply introduce himself. "I'm Andrew Winters, your legal counselor."
Fifteen minutes later, Brass waited for Iris to arrive outside the interrogation room and observed the suspect's fidgeting inside while talking to the young pup of a court appointed lawyer who'd syrupily introduced himself to Brass on his way in. Jim took the suspect's restive body language as a good omen that he'd have a confession lawyer or no lawyer. He saw Iris walking briskly up the hall with her case file in one hand and a laptop case in the other.
"You ready to nail this sleaze, Velma?" he asked to needle her.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Scooby, remember?" she replied tartly as he held the door open for her.
"Mr. MacDougal, this is Investigator King from the crime lab who may have some additional questions along with mine," Brass said while he and Iris took their seats across from the attorney and suspect. She removed her laptop from its case and started its boot up process.
"I've reviewed the transcript of your initial questioning of my client, which occurred without counsel being present may I remind you. I request that you conduct yourself more professionally this time around, Detective," Andrew said glibly.
Brass' visage seemed to turn to granite as Iris knew he was grinding his teeth to offset what he really wanted to say. She could see his struggle to remain civil and it was admirable. "I've been questioning suspects since you were in diapers, Junior, so spare me the advice! I know what and how to ask when it comes to questioning, sonny boy."
The attorney's eyebrows rose in surprise before he replied in a frigid tone, "Very well, please begin your questioning, Detective."
Iris took the initiative and opened her laptop. "Mr. MacDougal, we have statements from three eyewitnesses who indicate that at the time you ran the red light exiting the I-15 and turning right to head west on Tropicana the rear wheels of your truck hit Luther Watkins in his wheelchair and you never slowed down. I've examined your truck and its tires and this is corroborated with the other physical evidence from the accident scene. This is a computer-generated recreation of the accident I've prepared."
Peter gazed at the animated sequence and seemed to pale as he looked over the truck striking the victim. He then looked at Andrew who nodded he could respond. "I know I ran the red light and turned the corner too close. I felt my truck's back tires bump up over the curb. But you have to understand I'm a good driver with a clean record. I didn't see that poor man!"
"Admit it; you knew you hit him, didn't you? Come on, a fine Christian man like you must know confession is good for the soul! Bet you didn't know he was a former Marine who was a Vietnam vet," Brass barked at Peter while his index finger drummed against the picture of Luther Watkins' twisted body and the mangled wheelchair for emphasis.
"Captain Brass, if you continue to harass my client this interview is at an end," warned Andrew as Peter's face sank into his hands.
"Okay, sure, what's your, uh, client got to say?" Jim said in milder tone but his gaze at Peter was unwavering.
"You think I meant to hit him, Detective? As God as my witness, I don't remember seeing anything in my rear view mirrors. If I had I would've stopped immediately. I missed the Flamingo Road exit and decided to take the one for Tropicana so I could go west on it to take South Eastern Avenue north back up to Flamingo. It wasn't until I was pulling into the Toys R Us parking lot that I saw I had one flat outer tire. I just thought I'd picked up something like a nail," Peter insisted.
"Yeah, that's right, you sure nailed…," Jim growled before Iris placed her hand on his forearm.
"Mr. MacDougal, what we'd like to know is while you don't deny running the red light and taking the corner to turn too quickly, Mr. Watkins was dragged for nearly two blocks by your truck. You didn't hear anything? No sound of dragging metal? No possible cries from the victim? No smell of shredded rubber from the punctured tire?" Iris carefully pressed in her series of questions.
"Peter, you don't have to answer them," Andrew interjected suddenly.
"Mr. Winters, these are pertinent questions we've asked your client. If he has nothing to conceal…," Brass shrugged.
"No, I have nothing to hide! I'm an honest Christian man, a good husband and father. I don't deny this was a terrible and tragic accident that I'm caught up in," Peter exclaimed.
"Think, Mr. MacDougal, tell us your version of the event," Iris tried to refocus Peter.
"I was coming off the highway exit at a good clip. I wanted to make the light so I wouldn't be late in delivering my load because I was running behind. See, you get a bonus when your delivery is ahead of time and I wanted to get extra fireworks for my kids with the fourth coming up. The light was yellow and I'd just started to turn when it went red. I knew I took the turn too close and tried to compensate so the tires might just jump the curb but not hit the signal pole. I heard the left rear tires squawked as they hopped the curb but I swear I didn't smell any burnt rubber. I had my radio cranked up pretty loud to help me stay focused and sharp. I was kind of tired," Peter recalled.
"Wait a minute! You didn't say anything about your radio!" Andrew interrupted.
"Well, you didn't ask," Peter said simply.
"Pete, can I call you Pete? You look like a Pete to me. That's the darnedest thing you just said. You say you heard the rear tires squawk as they hit and jumped the curb but no smell of burned rubber, right? How could you have heard the tire screeching if your radio's blasting your favorite tunes? You also said you were tired and in a hurry to get through the light," Brass summarized as he ticked off his statements on the fingers of his hand.
Peter hung his head and said nothing.
"Peter, don't say another word! Captain Brass, Investigator King, it's evident I need additional time to talk to my client to better prepare his defense for this case. This interview is concluded and will be reconvened later," Andrew said sharply and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
"Whatever you say, counselor, don't call us we'll call you. The district attorney's office will be in touch," Jim winked at the attorney as Iris put the case materials back in its folder and shut down her laptop to return to its case. Brass waited patiently until she was ready to go and again held the door for her as they left.
Out in the hallway, Iris whirled on Brass as her hand went palm flat against his chest to stop him. Her usual soft doe eyes were dark as pitch and Jim could've sworn he saw sparks flying from them. "What gives, Iris?" he queried.
"Jim Brass, I had no problem with the questions you were putting to Mr. MacDougal, but what prompts you to mock his faith…his belief in God?" Iris demanded.
Brass frowned at her. Iris rarely called him Jim Brass and it was only if she was truly irked. No matter, her irritation was displaced he felt.
"He's no saint, Iris," Jim retorted. "Hells bells, his ineptitude constitutes manslaughter at the very least. I don't care if he goes to church every hour on Sunday or Wednesday or every freakin' holiday in between or walks little old ladies across the street. No, make that before he plows them with his truck I mean! Don't forget an innocent man lies dead in the morgue downstairs waiting for Doc Robbins to do his dice-n-slice!"
"I haven't forgotten but you're unreal, Jim! I don't minimize what happened but he seems sincere with what he believes. You know you better put me into the same category then," Iris was truly appalled and then strode down the hall.
"Hey, Velma, where're you going?" Brass called out to her.
"For what it's worth to the Memorial Garden because I need to clear my head," Iris snapped over her shoulder without a backward look.
. . . . .
The Memorial Garden Park adjoined the LVPD Metro Police and crime lab buildings. It had been built in memory of those fallen in the line of duty and consisted of nearly five acres of tree-lined walking paths, a duck pond with a fountain, and garden spots of varying plant themes with sitting benches or small gazebos.
Nick had gotten the text from Iris asking him to meet her there, so he'd tapped Warrick on the shoulder to join him. They nearly had their combination arson and burglary case ready for the transition to the other CSI teams within the 48-hour time period before they were all do to go to Donner Lake. Nick's case had a tie-in with Warrick's, so they'd joined forces to expedite their case investigations. He for one couldn't wait and the idea of meeting some lovely young thing for an extended holiday weekend had him in a state of anticipation.
They found Iris tossing bread to the resident ducks but it seemed to them she was doing so in an agitated fashion, literally flinging the pieces into the water one after another. Her face looked like a storm cloud to Nick.
"Hey, Iris," Nick said amiably.
"If Jim Brass knows what's good for him, he won't come anywhere near me for the rest of the year," Iris threatened with a shaking fist back at the LVPD and crime lab buildings.
"Whoa, girl, what's got your dander up?" Warrick asked with upraised hands in a calming gesture.
"I've sat in with Jim time and again to jointly question suspects but this time he crossed a line," Iris fumed as she tossed the last of the bread to the ducks that splashed about with excited quacks.
"Come on, sit down, tell us what happened," Nick coaxed and took her by the arm to go the nearest park bench in a well-shaded area by the pond.
"Yeah, girl, what'd the Brass man do to get on your crap list?" Warrick asked as he sat on the other side of Iris.
She took a deep breath before she responded. "Jim was questioning the truck driver arrested for that hit and run accident involving the poor Vietnam vet. During the questioning, the suspect said he was a good husband, father and a Christian. I discerned nothing that made me think he was giving us a line of bull."
"Sounds routine so far," Warrick remarked.
"It was until Jim openly ridiculed the man for saying he was a God-fearing Christian in so many words and that just went all over me because he has to know where I stand in what I believe. We sort of had words out in the hallway and then I just had to leave because…because…because I just didn't want to acknowledge he might consider anyone who believes in God a loser. It tears me up to think that he might," Iris said and Nick saw the distress in her doe-like eyes.
"Iris, anyone who's known you five minutes would know where you stand so don't fret about it," Nick reassured her and gave her a bear hug. "Jim plays hard ball sometimes when he's questioning a suspect. He has to, you know."
"Nick's right, Brass was just pushing hard to get a confession and what better time than when legal counsel is present," Warrick agreed.
"That's what I hope too," Iris allowed with a shaky laugh.
"Uh oh," Nick said softly because he saw Brass striding up the walking path looking as PO'd as he'd ever seen the homicide detective.
"King! You got balls to walk out on me like that after questioning a suspect! I wasn't through discussing this!" Jim barked angrily.
Iris rose quickly from the park bench, flanked by Nick and Warrick. She'd face Brass on her feet.
"I told you I needed a breath of fresh air. I figured a fine detective like you would've figured that out. You're usually not obtuse!" Iris went on the offense.
"Nick, Warrick, this is between her and me, so clear out," Jim said with a jerk of his thumb back toward the crime lab building.
"No, Jim, I think I'll sit in on this as a spectator," Nick drawled and sat back down on the bench.
"Me too," Warrick echoed and also sat down.
Brass glared at them both.
"So, Jim lets cut to the chase. This isn't about the suspect but you seemed to imply that if you believe in God you're a loser," Iris said with hands on hips to show she was going to ready to debate.
"Just because you go to church don't make you this Teflon-nothing-sticks person who'd never do something awful," Jim growled at her. "Makes me think of the Church Lady on 'Saturday Night Live'…who do you think it was….SATAN?" Jim finished with a pretty good parody of the Dana Carvey character's voice.
"I don't shy away from what I believe or how I show it," Iris said softly.
"Ah, well, the goody-goody churchgoer CSI who's going to save the world one crime scene at a time," Jim said sarcastically, moving right up to her.
Iris gasped and flinched but said nothing to rebut him. Her silence goaded him further.
"Jim, what gives?" Nick tried to intervene and move between Brass and Iris.
"Siddown, Texas, you're spectatin', remember?" Brass said and pushed Nick back.
"Let him finish, Nick. Go ahead, Jim, I can take both barrels," Iris locked eyes with Brass.
Jim advanced on her into the hot Nevada sun as she walked backwards until nearly to the edge of the bank of the pond. "Come on, Iris, so big deal you go to church but how can you defend someone whose actions resulted in the death of another innocent person? You left me with my Johnson hanging during the questioning which I may add was pretty anemic!"
"Your Johnson looked fine to me at the time I left the room," Iris blurted and then flushed crimson.
Nick and Warrick exchanged a surprised look but remained quiet as the argument escalated between Brass and Iris.
"Well, I always knew you had a thing for me and, yeah, my Johnson has its own hall of fame of conquests!" Jim said in a snarky tone.
"Why you arrogant, bumptious, overconfident toad! The day you grace my bed, that'll never happen!" Iris responded testily.
"You never know,'' Jim said slyly.
"Tell you what, Detective Brass, why not oppose me in a fencing match? If you win, you can name the terms of your victory," Iris challenged and aggressively assumed an en garde position. Brass stepped back in surprise and his position shifted so that Iris now faced him and his back was to the duck pond.
"I'll name 'em now. To start with you quit going to church. It is for losers and I'd hate to see you corrupted any more than you are. There're no miracles, no guardian angels, no God looking down on us or devil looking up not now or ever! The Bible's the ultimate fairy tale book," Jim said coldly down at her. He'd not only pushed the envelope with her just then, he'd torn right through it.
Iris saw red at that moment and her anger surged as she charged Brass and pushed him hard. Taken by surprise, Jim's arms flailed like flapping wings and his footing on the slippery bank was for naught as he fell backwards into the duck pond. Here the pond was only a few deep but it was enough for him to go under totally. He broke the water's surface spluttering angrily as he came slowly to his feet. The ducks had scattered in fright with a loud chorus of agitated quacks for nearby calmer waters.
"King! What the hell's gotten into you?" Brass rasped in disbelief at her action. Algae draped his head like Christmas garland and framed his face with slimy green tendrils. His sodden clothing dripped while his nose wrinkled at the smell of the warm pond water.
Iris' chest heaved as she tried to breathe in deeply to calm herself but her face still flushed in anger at Brass' earlier comments. "Consider yourself baptized!"
With that, she stormed past Nick and Warrick who'd jumped to their feet when they saw Brass hit the water. She grabbed her backpack and stalked up the walking path without a backward glance, whipping out her cell phone and punching a speed dial number.
Nick broke out in a guffaw as he high-fived Warrick. "I think Brass man's met his match. He'll think twice before ticking Iris off again!"
"Remind me not to ever get on her bad side," Warrick agreed.
They then went to help Brass out of the water as the bank was now slick and muddy. Brass couldn't even use his pocket handkerchief to wipe off his face while he grimaced at the nearby ducks thinking the water was full of duck poop and pee. Yeah, this was real healthy stuff to get dunked in.
"Stokes, Brown, what happens at the pond stays at the pond, okay?" Brass said as his gaze followed Iris who disappeared around the next bend in the walking path.
"Uh, sure, Jim," Nick promised.
"Like it does in Vegas anyway," Warrick concurred.
"Lord, this water stinks! I wondered how far I had to go to get a rise out of her," Brass laughed grimly trying to wring water from his suit jacket. "I'm glad I always keep a change of clothes in my office. Next stop the showers but I'm steerin' clear of those benches."
The men started up the walking path back to the LVPD Metro buildings, Brass having to stop every few minutes to shake a pants leg.
. . . . .
Grissom heard the metallic slam of the locker door clear up the hall and poked his head out of his office just in time to see Iris striding down the hall in the opposite direction. "Iris!"
She skidded to a halt and hesitated a moment before turning around. Her face was ruddy and he saw her composure was not the norm for her.
"Got a minute?" Grissom beckoned with a crooked index finger.
Iris walked slowly into his office where Grissom was seated. "Yo."
"You seemed in a big hurry. Everything okay?" he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Look could someone else take my place on the retreat?" Iris asked suddenly in a rushed voice.
"Why?" Grissom was surprised. "You seemed like you really wanted to go when I announced it to the team."
"I was but right now I don't think I should go…uh, me being the newest person on the team…how about Wendy? She's helped with some field work recently. You know Wendy and Hodges…," Iris suggested nervously.
"I know there's something between them but, really, I want you there. You're a member of the team so it's decided and I'm not taking no for an answer. You know all for one and one for all," Grissom interrupted with a slight smile. He was not to be denied and Iris knew it.
"Okay," Iris agreed softly.
"Good. Well, I wanted to get your opinion of how to do meals during the retreat," Grissom said with a neutral change of subject. His impression being whatever had Iris upset she wasn't going to into detail about.
"Sure. I think doing breakfasts at the lodge house but for lunch and dinner to go into town unless we do a picnic or something like that," Iris recommended. "I'll be happy to be the main cook and I'll get to work on a grocery list."
"Now don't go overboard, Iris, I know how you love to cook and the spreads you've done for the team have made us the envy of not only the crime lab but the entire Metro police force," Grissom admonished.
"I'll keep it simple, boss," Iris pledged with a salute before she left his office.
. . . . .
Jim tossed his wet clothes and shoes in his trunk wrapped up in a plastic trash bag. Iris was going to pay for his dry cleaning he'd decided with a smile of satisfaction. It was the least she could do after what she'd pulled in the park and in front of Stokes and Brown, two of the worst pranksters on Grissom's team, who'd be merciless in their ribbing of him for some time to come. Yeah, she was going to pay and handsomely too maybe more than just a dry cleaning fee. He could claim emotional duress just like on Judge Judy.
Nick bumped into him in the hall while he was on his way back to his office. Nick couldn't resist as he asked, "So squeaky clean again?"
Brass winced visibly at one word, and the latent memories associated with it. "Lay off, Stokes, and the word "squeaky", okay?"
"Yeah, Jim," Nick replied with a slight frown. Why would the word have that effect on Brass?
Nick wasn't familiar with it being Brass' nickname from his time as a detective back in Newark when he worked to rid the department of corrupt officers. The cost of it still haunted him, mostly for state of his current relationship with Ellie.
What awaited them in front of Jim's office brought them to a halt. Standing at least 6'5 tall was a burly biker dressed in a black leather vest with various patches, black T-shirt and jeans and riding leathers, and wearing a bandana sporting the slogan "Biker – A Way of Life" from which strands of salt-pepper gray hair straggled. Beside him stood an attractive woman with an Amazonian physique dressed in the same garb who flanked his side, wearing her long blonde hair plaited in a single braid down her back.
"You gotta be Detective Brass," the biker said with a pointing finger.
"I am…I don't think we've met…," Jim said slowly.
"We haven't. Name's Halo and this is my lady, Angel," the biker drawled his introduction.
"Uh, right, won't you come into my office," Jim said casually and unlocked his door.
"Brass, I'll catch you later," Nick said and gave him a "call me" sign behind the backs of the biker couple. Jim gave him a curt nod.
After the couple was seated, Brass adjusted his tie slightly and unbuttoned the neck. This should be interesting he thought. "Okay, folks, what brings you here this fair day?"
"Look, Halo's my club name, same for Angel, my wife. Real moniker's Brian Tanner, former marine vet of the Persian Gulf War, president of the Las Vegas Chapter of the Law Dawgs, now a grunt civilian working casino security. My wife, Maureen," the biker clarified with a wide grin and a jerk of his thumb toward his female companion.
"Nice to meet you but what are you here about?" Brass was mystified.
"Someone you know asked us to come by," Brian replied and slouched back in his chair.
"Who?" Jim asked, casually folding his hands on his desk.
"You're familiar with CSI King?" asked Maureen with a dazzling smile at Brass that caused her husband to glance at her quizzically.
"Yeah, familiar's a good way to phrase it but we do work cases together," Brass replied carefully.
"She's a member of the LV Law Dawgs. Wish she'd get a better bike than that 'ol Kawasaki she rides but hey I digress. She told about us about Luther Watkins and we want to help. I've contacted the other chapter presidents nationwide. Money's being pledged right and left. He'll be buried with full military honors at the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery in Boulder City. Here's the card for the funeral home that'll handle the arrangements if you can call them when it's time," Brian handed it to Brass.
"Iris…did this…," Jim said a bit incredulous as he took the card.
"She said it was a criminal case and she couldn't go into details other than tell us about Luther's situation. Iris also mentioned you're a fellow marine. Do you ride?" Brian inquired.
"Uh, yeah, a long time ago as a rookie patrolman," Brass answered.
"You know we can always use someone else in the ranks. You're welcome to join us anytime. Maybe you could ride double with Iris. We go on weekend rides and you'd more than meet the membership requirements," Brian suggested.
"I'll take it into consideration. Thanks for stopping by and updating me. I'll be in touch," Jim replied and stood to shake Brian's hand.
"Naw, semper fi, bro…semper fi," Brian instead offered a fist bump which Brass did a bit awkwardly.
"A lady can't resist a man in uniform…even when it has to be a suit and tie," Maureen said slyly with a wink for emphasis while she also fist-bumped Brass. "Iris thinks a lot of you."
"I'll remember that," Jim said neutrally.
The moment the biker couple left his office, Jim was on his cell phone.
. . . . .
Nick had caught Iris on her way out of the parking lot and had just told her about the couple waiting for Jim. Her cell phone suddenly rang and it was Brass' ring tone. The song was "Suspicious Minds" by Dwight Yoakam.
"Who's calling?" Nick was curious.
"Who else…Brass…the man's got timing down to a science," Iris groaned. "I'm just letting it go to voicemail for now."
"But 'Suspicious Minds' as a ringtone for Brass?" Nick's curiosity was pegging now.
"It seems perfect given the title and he's a detective. Never mind that it's a love song, Nickers, so don't go overboard in trying to interpret something that's not there!" Iris insisted but leaned her back against the Ford Bronco and covered her eyes. "Oh, crap."
"What's wrong? You should've seen the look on Brass' face. He had to wonder what he was going to be dealing with," Nick laughed.
"They were from the Law Dawgs and came to discuss what they might be able to do with helping with the funeral arrangements for Luther Watkins. I hope it went well because I wanted to be present when they went to Jim. Oh, well," Iris sighed.
"Jim'll appreciate your help. You still sore at him?" Nick asked.
"Not to the point of wrath anymore, I still can't believe I lost control like that. It's not like me and especially so where my personal beliefs are in question. I believe sometimes a silent witness is the most powerful one," Iris said glumly.
"I really think Brass said that just to tick you off and that was his best shot at the moment. Don't carry a grudge over it," Nick asserted with an encouraging pat on her shoulder.
"Nickers, that man vexes me nine ways to Sunday sometimes but I never dreamed he'd get me so hacked that I'd do what I did," Iris said as the mental image of Brass going into the duck pond replayed in her mind.
"Maybe you two just need to kiss and make up," Nick suggested slyly.
"Oh, right, just walk up to Jim Brass and say here baby before planting one on him. He'll really receive that," Iris laughed weakly.
"He's not seeing anyone Iris and neither are you. You guys generally get along well together," Nick reminded her.
"Let me be in charge of my own matchmaking and you keep your day job, Cupid! I'm not going on this trip looking to be matched or attached or any such plan to be hatched. Me and Jim Brass…that'll be the day," Iris griped, realizing her silly rhyme, but she couldn't offset a chuckle at the same time.
"Well, I'm hoping this retreat will have a lot of surprises in store for all concerned," Nick said as he closed the Bronco's driver door. At least he had her laughing as she climbed into the Bronco to restart and Nick was glad for that as he waved at her while she drove off.
. . . . .
Brass glared at his cell phone. Iris hadn't picked up and he'd had to leave a voicemail. That could only mean she was still PO'd about the incident at the pond and wouldn't take his call. Fine, he could play that game. He snapped the phone shut and pocketed it, swearing under his breath.