Chapter 8-Boys Will Be Boys
Ange swallowed the last of her Cobb salad, swallowed down the rest of her iced tea and threw the tip on the table. Nick and Greg fought over the bill; the least she could do was tip their waitress. As they made their way back to Nick's SUV, his cell went off.
"Brass," Nick alerted them.
He spoke to Brass as they drove back to the crime lab. Dropping Greg off, he told him to go see if Doc Robbins got to their body yet and to call either of them if something came up. In the meantime, he and Ange were heading over to the victim's mother's house.
"Brass is with the mother right now," Nick informed Ange as he headed down the interstate.
"Upperclass Jewish family," Nick went on, "son didn't come home after synagogue."
"You thinkin' this was racially motivated," she butted in, "it was a brutal way to go."
"Not necessarily," Nick offered, "there weren't any epitaphs or markings near or around the body to suggest a hate crime."
"We'll learn more when we talk to the mother," Nick sounded hopeful.
Ange wasn't so sure. Working in New York, Ange knew a fair amount of details when it came to the Jewish community. They weren't fond of letting their business get spread over the airwaves, let alone, speak ill of their own. If her son was into something dangerous, like drugs or something minor as in gambling, she'd turn to the rabbi first for help before she turned to the police.
Meeting with Mrs. Cohen, the affluent wife of a spinal surgeon, they came to the same conclusion; Elijah Cohen, was top in his class at the University of Nevada, played varsity basketball as a sophomore, and according to his mother, 'never ingested anything illegal'. Asking first if they could search his room, the mother obliged, stating neither she nor her son had anything to hide. Upon entering his room, Nick and Ange surveyed it, each taking a separate side. His room was immaculate, textbooks stacked neatly on his desk, his laptop, off, sat center on his desk. Folded tshirts, socks, and the like, were laid atop his already made bed, courtesy of his mother, no doubt. Everything they examined was neat and orderly, which begged the question, what teenage boy didn't have something to hide? Nick opened a gym bag, that lay in plain sight, and rummaged through it. Holding up a small dime sized bag, he whistled.
"How much you want to bet this isn't baby powder," he flaunted the baggy.
"Let's run some tests," Ange knelt beside Nick, "see what the baggy has to tell us."
"If the TOX screen is ready," Nick interjected, "and Elijah's bloodstream shows drugs…" he trailed off.
"…his mother never knew her son at all." Ange finished his thought.
Back at the lab, results were at their disposal. Greg spoke to Doc Robbins, who reiterated the victim's COD was a gunshot wound to the forehead; impressions left from the nozzle of the weapon, indicated burned gunpowder, which left a remarkable impression on Elijah's skin. Blood splatter was in a diffused pattern, leaving traces on the victims' cheekbones and chest. Rigor mortis is generalized; lividity is dorsal, with the usual coloring and blanching of the skin. TOX came back positive for cocaine; victim's nasal passages indicated infrequent use. TOX also indicated that the victim was taking antacids, typical for a first time user. Running tests on the powdered substance found in the victim's gym bag also tested positive for cocaine; baking soda, ether, and ammonia were found in the breakdown analysis, along with powdered sugar. Bullet retrieved which was lodged between the occipital bone, was sent to ballistics. Taking a stab at the size of the bullet, the doctor suggested a .22 caliber.
With information gathered, the team knew that they had a possible weapon and motive. DNA from the cigarette butt got a positive hit off CODIS; Jonas Yaits, 34, misdemeanor assault, distribution of illegal substances, multiple stints in and out of jail, skipped out on most recent court hearing. As they encircled the residence of Yaits, search and seizure of the resident and his belongings left the team with the .22 used to murder Elijah Cohen, multiple bags of dope, and as the suspect spit in Nick's face, Ange collected the DNA to run against the cigarette butt, to tie ends. Swabbing the nose of the .22, the tip of cotton turned a bright red, indicative of blood. Skimming through his bathroom, Greg walked out with a container of Hair Glue, pretty expensive hair gel, that he 'knew would match up with the trace found on the bill they found in their vic's hand'. Interrogation went as smooth as it could, with Brass taking the lead, assisted by Greg and Nick. Ange finished the paper work as she watched their suspect be hauled off by Officers Snyder and Collins. Elijah accused Yaits of selling him 'subpar cocaine', demanded his money back, a struggle ensued, which led Yaits to shoot Elijah head on. Yaits made off with the weapon and the money, which was found in the search of his apartment. As Ange sealed their case file, she double-checked their findings, along with a print off Yait's workboot, size 11, a perfect match to the shoe prints found near the bushes and the body. Shaking her head, she headed to the break room to find Nick and Warrick tossing a football back and forth.
"Warrick's stuck," Nick alerted her, "they've reached a standstill in the case."
Holding up her hands to receive the ball, Warrick tossed it to her. Who needed to sleep anyways, she smirked. The three of them sat in the break room tossing the ball back and forth for over an hour when Ange asked Warrick to describe the ligature markings found on his victim. Showing her the pics, Ange scrutinized over them, racking her brain for a possible match. Warrick explained the victim was going to nursing school at night, found beaten and gagged outside of the university. Closing in on the victim's wrist, a faint uppercase A could be seen imprinted into the skin.
"Ace bandages," she tapped at the photo, "I'd check to see if any are missing. Hospitals have an inventory they mark when supplies are used; makes for a quick order."
"Now that you mention it," Warrick got a newfound burst of energy, "Catherine found fibers on the vic's wrists and ankles."
"If we can match those to the bandages used at the hospital…"
"Get goin'," Ange urged him, "now that that's solved, I can finally get the hell outta here."
"Like we twisted your arm, kiddo," Warrick laughed, "I owe you one."
Ange knew he was right. She usually jumped at the chance to work on her days off; being idle wasn't good for her. It wasn't the leaving that bothered her, it was the loneliness and the strangeness of the new town that kept her from leaving. Ever since she left New York, she felt she needed to look over her shoulder, even though she knew that part of her life was over. But you never knew, she chided herself, what or who was lurking around every corner. Knowing Nick had tomorrow off as well, she asked if he wanted to swing by her place for a beer and some Play Station.
"We need to finish up that game of Madden we had goin' on," she teased.
"If I remember correctly," she playfully batted his arm, "my Giants were kickin' your ass."
"You're on," he opened the door, "just let me get my stuff."
