Chapter 10

Though somewhat dimmed by the lab's window tinting, the morning sun still reflected radiantly from the highly polished black floors. The glare bounced and ricocheted back and forth among the various angles of the hundreds of glass louvers around the diverse work areas, and gently stroked the brushed aluminum doorframes.

Delko, Wolfe, and Boa Vista, all sat in the evidence display room, their backs to the kaleidoscopic dazzle. They talked quietly as they sipped from their steaming cups of coffee.

"Well, at least I know what the label on those jugs means now. After finishing my report last night, I looked up 'Revigorator' on the web."

"It actually means something?" Eric's deep brown eyes lit up at the prospect.

In his element, Wolfe explained. "Yeah, well, it's a made up word. It was used as a trade name in the early part of the twentieth century. A company in San Francisco got a water jug patented with that word in the 1920's. They made jugs lined with radium ore and sold them as a health product all over the country."

Natalia's jaw dropped, her teeth showing brilliantly against her warm toned skin. "My god! And they got away with it?"

Ryan smiled wryly as he shook his head ever so slightly. "Back then, anyone could sell anything. Besides, everyone thought radiation was a good thing. Even though Marie Curie had died of aplastic anemia, no one knew it had been caused by her work with radium. They just knew she died, but back then, lots of people died from unknown causes. Radium was thought to be a magic cure-all by 1910."

Eric nodded. "I know it was used for watch dial faces and airplane instrument dials."

Natalia smiled in recognition of something. "Oh yeah, I remember reading something about 'Radium Girls'. Some women worked at a watch factory. So, if people knew about that, why were the jugs sold?"

Ryan smiled benignly as he explained. "They didn't realize what they were dying of until the late 1930's. Even though most of the women had worked in the factories through the twenties, it took another fifteen to twenty years before people knew that it was the effects of the radiation that was killing them. After all, Madame Curie didn't die until 1934 and she'd worked with radioactive material since the 1890's. Radium was thought to be almost magic because it looked so pretty. It was put into all kinds of things, not just in watch dial paint. It was put into face creams and ointments as cures for everything from arthritis to impotence. They even put it into women's makeup."

Natalia raised a finger. "Oh, that's like how chlorophyll was put into all kinds of stuff when my mom was young. She remembers even potato chips were laced with it."

Ryan continued, "With much less devastating results, of course. But, yeah, if you didn't drop dead immediately from using some product, it was touted to be the best thing ever. Even polysaturated fats had its day.Once they proved that radium put out invisible rays, and it became commonly available, everyone jumped on the bandwagon. Several companies that manufactured clay crockery got into the act. One in San Francisco patented the Revigorator, but some companies just labeled the jugs with the words, Radium Water. One guy that called his water, Radithor, ended up dying of cancer of the bladder."

Eric asked, "So, why are these Revigorator jugs showing up now?"

Natalia chimed in, "And why so many?"

Ryan frowned as he recalled all he'd read. "Well, according to what I found, one or two of these jugs seems to show up every year at antique shows. People find them in attics and barns. They were distributed all over the US."

Eric said, "You know, Miami was advertised as being a healthy place to live even back in the twenties. After all, was the place where the Fountain of Youth was supposed to be."

"I remember reading about that in school," Nat answered. "Health resorts came and went like lightening. Some of these places even had people wading out into the swamp water to bathe, saying the warm water would cure anything that ailed you. Then, when they'd lose a client or two to alligators, or when a hurricane came in, they'd fold. Remnants of those old places pop up from time to time, still. Do you think they sold these jugs, maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe so. I bet they all sold tons of health products for people to take with them." agreed Eric, "As the Everglades rise and fall with the amount of rainfall, I know old foundations show up and then get submerged again. Maybe there was a stash of jugs someplace." Then he shook his head. "All really interesting stuff but, you know what? Not leading us to this guy, Nate."

Natalia decisively put her coffee cup down on the glass-topped table. "So, let's go give those jugs a good going over. We've got nothing else. Hopefully there's more than prints."

As they shouldered their way out of the door, Ryan told Delko he'd agreed to be watcher outside of the safe room.

Delko nodded. "I'll spell her when she's had enough of being in the suit, then. We all might as well take a hit."

Ryan's face showed his concern. "You sure you want to risk another exposure to radiation?"

Delko grinned lopsidedly, "Hey, it's been over four years since that last time and I was given a clean bill of health even then. Not all of these jugs put together have a hundredth of what I was exposed to. Besides, I'll wear a lead apron under the lead lined suit, just to be sure."

Ryan smiled at the thought of his burly friend in an apron but didn't say anything.

Three hours later, the trio, eating an early lunch in the break room, speculated over their finds.

Both men chewed on sandwiches and nodded in agreement over as Natalia said, "I'm betting there's nothing new in the fingerprint department but I'll lay odds we'll get something from that one pot."

She was referring to the layer of residue they'd found inside one of the Revigorators from Ryan's trailer park.

Ryan pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket. "Yeah, I had to look it up just to be sure, but that's the crock that that one guy said he'd never used. His wife had bought it as a gag gift for his sixtieth birthday. According to the hospital reports, he was the only one who tested absolutely negative for radiation. The other people had detectable, though negligible traces."

Eric swallowed and remarked, "Yeah, they probably didn't use them much. Most people buy all kinds of health products, vitamins, food supplements, even exercise equipment and then don't use them."

"Have you heard about the condition of that one guy, Ryan?" Natalia was referring to Pauly, the replacement boyfriend for Delilah Cortez.

"Yeah. He's fine. They put him through a complete decontamination process. It'll take a couple of more days to wash the remnants of the radium tainted water from his system. Of course, he's going to have to go in for checkups for the rest of his life. Even a brief exposure to radiation can bring trouble down the line."

Everyone sat quietly for a few minutes. Finally, Ryan balled up the plastic wrap that had held his sandwich along with the paper bag he'd carried it in. He tried an overhand toss at the wastebasket and, as usual, missed. Rising from his chair, he scooped up the wads and placed them into the basket and remarked, "Well, I guess the trace in that jug isn't going to get analyzed with me in here, is it?"

"I'll do half," chimed in Natalia. She rose and tossed her lunch remains into the waste and followed Ryan out.

"Find me in fingerprints," Eric called out. Like Boa Vista, he didn't think there'd be anything new, but until they were all matched to samples from the people at the trailer park, he wouldn't know for sure.

An hour later, he looked up from his last print going through AFIS to see his teammates walking towards him, smiling. "I hope you got better news than I do." Just as he spoke, the computer popped a ding sound, indicating a match to the print had been found. As he'd suspected, the last print was the same as the one remaining person on the list, meaning, they had no new prints on the jugs.

Natalia's face was alight with triumph. "Oh yeah. Good news, indeed." She looked deferentially to Ryan.

Ryan held his hands widely apart. "It's you that identified the stuff, Natalia, you tell him."

Not needing a second invitation, Boa Vista proudly displayed the sheaf of pages she was carrying. "That trace inside the jug was nothing less than the remains of swamp water. It had apparently once been submerged in the stuff. Either Nate only bothered to clean the outsides of all of them or maybe this is just one he missed."

"So? Seventy-eight percent of Florida is swamp. Where does the good news come in?"

"It's what was in the swamp water." Natalia fluttered the papers at Eric. "Aside from the bits of gammagrass, which is in any swampland, and some common wild iris, there was a petal from the very uncommon Nelumbo nucifera, the sacred lily."

"So?"

"So, that and the pollen from small ladies tresses, plus some pollen from another plant called straw colored flat sedge, narrowed it down to a part of the Miami-Dade everglades in a very specific area. Those plants, combined with a little research on what area of those specific swamplands flooded after about 1925 and then receded in the last thirty or forty years, narrowed it down even more. To about a fifteen mile stretch, to be specific." Natalia was clearly proud of herself.

Always ready to test a rookie, Eric challenged, "That's still a lot of territory, Natalia. The area covered by water rise and falls can be twenty miles wide. That's about a three hundred square miles to look in."

Here, Natalia could only shrug her shoulders. "Yeah, but remember, the idea for narrowing down the search was to see if we could find the locations of any health resorts in that area. Going on what we talked about this morning, that the jugs might have been sold by a health resort or something. There were actually three spas in the target area at various times."

"And?" urged Eric.

She turned to Ryan, looking for help. He pushed himself erect from leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded. "And so, we've got three locations to look at. That narrows the area down to about thirty square miles, all told. Only thing is, what are we looking for? We thought you'd have an idea."

Eric grinned. "As a matter of fact, I do." He stepped over to the end of the table to a computer keyboard. "Have you seen these maps that are made from aerial photographs? You can even see individual houses on them! I bet, if we lay in the addresses of those old resorts, we can see if there is anything habitable in those locations now." He stood at a computer keyboard and in short order, pulled up a map site.

With Nat and Ryan to either side, Eric tapped in the first address "Okay, the first address shows what looks to be two homes." He paused and saw that Ryan was taking notes on the addresses.

While he pulled up the locations of the two other resorts, he voiced his thoughts. "I'm thinking that after we see where the other locations are, we call around to a couple of the larger real estate companies in Miami. They all share knowledge on properties, no matter who's representing it."

Ryan smiled. "So, we call and see if any of these houses have seen any action on the sales market in the last…what, three or four years, maybe?"

An hour later, the three were on their way to a remote farm that had shown several outbuildings on the aerial map view. It was located a few miles north of the trailer park where Delilah Cortez lived. Followed by three patrol cars with officers clad in bulletproof gear and armed with rifles and tear gas, they were looking for Nate Fontainebleau.

Earlier that morning, Calleigh's pretty face had carried a slight frown as she spoke into her cell phone. "Horatio? Did Alexx talk to you yet?"

Hearing a negative reply, Calleigh continued, "She got an early callout on a DB found over at the Galleria parking structure." She nodded at the phone held to her ear, "Yeah, so you did know about it. Well, she asked me to ID the bullet ASAP. Horatio, it's the wife of City Council Member Hidalgo Sorenson." The petite blonde's head bobbed again. "Did you know she was a lawyer? I think her offices are located in the business section of the Galleria Mall. She must have been spending a late night and was headed to her car. The reason I'm calling you is IBIS got a hit on the bullet." Calleigh knew when she had case breaking news. "It's from a case we worked on over three years ago. Remember the kid shot under a tree in a quiet neighborhood?"

Calleigh was surprised Horatio remembered Marky Samson's name. "It's got the same striations and is even the same vintage! But, that's not the only good news. Besides the bullet, theres also handprint that the night shift lifted from the victim's car. I'm guessing the killer was waiting for Ms Sorenson, had leaned against the car, maybe. Anyway, I got a match from AFIS. It's a kid that's been in and out of the Miami legal system for years." She nodded again, "Yes, Frank is bringing the kid in now."

Horatio's stance in the hallway was typical of when he was about to bring the long arm of the law down on a habitual criminal. Though his body faced Detective Frank Tripp, he was looking to his left at the young man in the interview room. He'd already taken note of how the kid standing, legs spread wide, his hands held awkwardly at the beltline in the back, eyes fixed straight ahead under scowling brows. As if making a point, the young man stood directly in back of a chair.

Horatio raised his hands to his own beltline, one hand was cupped comfortably around his gold Lieutenant's shield, denoting his more than ten years of service to Miami. His other hand was on the place where he usually carried his holstered gun, empty now because he was in the lab. His face showed both his sadness at the prospect of dealing with a youngster who seemed to have gone so wrong and his determination to see justice done. "Frank, what have you got on him?"

Anticipating the query, Frank had his notebook in his hand. "Kid's name is Pedro Delagarza. His print was on the vehicle owned by Sonia Sorenson, who was shot sometime last night. We got a search warrant for his house when we got the arrest warrant. Found what appears to be the murder weapon under his mattress. Calleigh is running tests on it now, and looking up the serial number for owner registration. It's an old military style gloch. I'm betting whoever is on record as the owner isn't this kid."

"No doubt, Frank, no doubt."

Frank stared at the young person and snorted. "We brought him in here over an hour ago and he's stood like that ever since. I told him to take a seat and he wouldn't budge. Kid's got a record as long as my arm, too; everything from skipping school to petty theft. Been in and out of probation camps since he was twelve. I think whatever camp he was last at must have been one of those pseudo boot camp places. I bet he thinks he's going to get points for doing that."

"Did he say where he'd gotten the gun, Frank?" Horatio's voice droned from deep inside his chest.

"Nope. Hasn't said anything but yessir and nosir or just sir. Oh, and one other thing, Horatio. The kid is only seventeen but he's legally emancipated. We can question him without his parents or a lawyer being present."

Horatio came to a decision. "Frank, would you mind if I call in an observer before we start to question Pedro?" He reached into his jacket pocket.

Frank's eyes were roving the various labs as he absently answered, "Yeah, sure, call in anyone you like."

Turning away as he used his phone, Horatio didn't notice how Frank's face lit up as he saw Calleigh approaching.

Frank caught himself before his grin spread too far. Glancing around to see if anyone had taken notice of the brief change from his usual moody-cop attitude, he straightened his face back to more of a sober look as he greeted her with, "Hey Calleigh. What you got?"

Not hiding her feelings as well as he hid his, she knew that most people would simply mistake her smile for her good ol' Southern charm. Of course, she was very glad that Horatio wasn't looking at her, knowing he'd clue in on the fact that something was going on between her and the large detective. "Hey Frank. I just finished checking that gun you brought in. It leaves the same stria pattern as I found on the bullet we pulled out of Ms Sorenson which matches with the bullet we got from Marky Samson. A clear link." She handed Frank the printouts showing the pictures of bullets, all labeled. Included was her concisely written report.

Frank's smile was not so much because of the swiftness of receiving confirmation of a good pickup, but because Calleigh had reached under the pages with her other hand and caressed his as he reached for the papers. His eyes met hers briefly. He finally remembered to say, "Uh, thanks Calleigh."

Seeing Horatio had finished his call, Calleigh repeated her information handing a second sheaf of papers to him. "Oh, and the gun doesn't show up on any registry of ownership. That doesn't mean a record doesn't exist though. Since it's the type that was issued by the military, back in the late sixties, early seventies, I'm going to see what I can find in military databases. I'll get it to you as soon as I've found anything." Receiving Horatio's whispery thanks, she spun about, and paused just long enough to give Frank a 'look. Then she walked back to the gun lab.

Horatio's chin dropped an inch as he concluded that what he thought he'd seen out of the corner of his extra wide vision range a moment ago had not been an illusion. He smiled his private smile as he examined the information gained from Calleigh's swift work.

Twenty minutes later, the two men greeted Sally Brandt as she stepped out of the elevator.

Without preamble, Horatio explained the purpose of his call to her. "One of the things you said about your analysis of Marky's case was that it smacked of behaviors similar to military disciplines. Do I remember that correctly?"

The three of them felt free to stare at the kid in the interview room who still stood facing the two-way mirror on the other side of the table. As far as Horatio could tell, the kid hadn't moved since he'd started observing him more than forty-five minutes ago.

Sally nodded to Horatio's question and showed a half smile. "And you said this kid had the gun under his mattress?" She had brought a thick file with her. Opening it revealed a page with Delagarza's booking photo. Horatio guessed the papers underneath were a history of the young man's misadventures with the law.

Frank nodded. "Yeah. He also had GSR on his right hand. With his palm and finger prints on the vic's car door, marks on the bullet from the vic matching with marks on another bullet fired from the gun, there's no doubt, he's our shooter. So, why do you need to analyze him? We've got the proof he's guilty, even if he never admits it, so we're done. Right?"

"It's not quite that simple, Frank." Horatio had been thinking so hard about the bullet being the same as what had shot Marky, he'd forgotten he hadn't mentioned his conclusions to the detective. "As you know, Frank, Sally thinks there's a connection between your store/home robberies cases and Marky Samson's murder. You and I hit a dead end with Marky's case but now, here's another association. Frank, we need to find out how Pedro got the gun, and from whom. I have a feeling that Sally, in watching him from behind the mirror, will hear more than we do when we talk with him."

Sally interrupted. "One other thing, when Marky was shot, Pedro was with Juvenile Detention, getting ready for another stay at a camp. He couldn't have been the killer. So, we need to find out how he got the gun. Now, I know you guys don't use psychs so much when questioning, Detective Tripp, but I think I've got some background information that will be very useful in understanding how to get the most out of this kid." She tapped on the file.

Frank couldn't be bothered with all of this. He'd put his hands on his hips almost as soon as the strange looking woman had started talking. He had been already to voice his objections to this fancy work except that now he saw Horatio nodding in agreement. Frank moved back by one step and gestured widely with one hand. "Whatever. I'll just watch and learn, alright?"

In the interview room, Frank stood behind the kid and Horatio purposely stood to one side in front, his legs parted, both hands on his hips. "My name is Horatio Caine. Have a seat, son."

The young man's face twitched in satisfaction as he gazed ahead and remained silent.

Horatio's chin lowered down to his chest as he smiled his own satisfaction. "Alright, what's your name?" He asked in a very quiet voice.

The young man shouted, "Sir! My name is Pedro Jimenez Delagarza! Sir!"

Horatio asked for an address and got it delivered in the same precise manner. Still appearing to be looking down, still speaking quietly, he asked, "Why won't you have a seat?"

"Sir! It would be rude to sit in the presence of my standing superiors. Sir!"

Turning his head ever so slightly to the mirror, ever so slightly raising an eyebrow to the hidden forensic psychologist, he took a seat. Purposely, he'd moved the chair to the far end of the table. "Permission to sit, Delagarza."

Uncertainty played across Pedro's face. Obviously, this version of the scenario had never played out for him.

Frank, losing patience, leaned over Delagarza's ear and spoke decisively. "Sit, kid, like you've been ordered. If you're waiting for me to take a seat, don't! There's only one other chair here and if I sit, you're going to have to sit on my lap. You really want to do that?" While he spoke, he reached around and yanked the chair out from the table

Pedro sat. The military pose broken, he looked like a scared kid.

Horatio turned and laying both arms on the table, he looked at the young man, trying to catch his gaze. He kept his voice quiet, intimate. "Hey! Pedro. Where did you get the gun?"

Obviously, Pedro didn't expect that question. Horatio could see him reviewing in his mind what he'd done to get the gun. Seeming to come to a conclusion, Pedro raised his eyes to stare at the wall below the mirror. He hitched himself so that his back was flat against the back of the chair and he placed his hands flat on his thighs, keeping his arms straight. "Sir! Pedro Delagarza! Sir!"

A soft thump came from the mirror. Horatio rose and casually walked out. "I'll be back in a minute, Frank."

Stepping around the corner from the room, to the area behind the mirror, he faced Sally.

Not taking her eyes from the staring boy, she said, "He got the gun from the same person who's taught him the military 'tude. The switch, as he was thinking about where he got the gun, was almost immediate. From his background outlined in his file, a recent emancipation from a drugged up mother with no father, ever, on the scene, I'd say he's been befriended by a very powerful father figure. It's someone with a strong military background that he's imposed on this kid and the others you told me about. Now, you're not going to get anywhere asking about the gun or who he got it from. I'd suggest going at it sideways, ask him how he's living on his own, right now. Find out what he likes to do, where he hangs out."

Bringing in a large paper cup full of water and placing it in front of Pedro, Horatio took his seat, sipping from his own cup.

Horatio saw that, after eyeing the cup for a couple of seconds, the kid picked it up and quickly drained it. "Frank. Would you be so kind as to get Pedro some more water?"

After another cup had been slapped noisily on the table and ignored, Horatio went on a hunch and asked, "You ever play basketball, Pedro?"

From the glow in his eyes, Horatio knew he'd struck pay dirt. He sat back and said as if musing out loud, "I'm thinking of getting back into playing in my free time. I played some when I was your age but that was in New York. Here, I just don't know where to look. You got a place to play in your area?"

The quick downward dart of Pedro's eyebrows told Horatio to be cautious. He put an elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand and stared into space. "I live over north of 195." That was a flat out lie but he wanted to relax the kid. By claiming to live in the area that was far from Pedro's, perhaps he feel safer to reveal some information. "Where did you find a place to play? Maybe I can look for something like it over by where I live."

The words came reluctantly, quietly. "A place over by where I live, Ludlam Youth Center."

Since he'd just gotten the information he needed, he decided to push the issue, just in case. "Is that where you got the gun?"

As he expected, Pedro answered by shouting his name and nothing more.

A few minutes later, Horatio was watching Pedro being escorted out by the uniformed officer who'd been waiting outside of the interview room. Thanking Sally for her help, he and Frank escorted her to the elevator.

Walking along side of her, Horatio was saying, "Our next step will be to check on who works at the Ludlam Youth Center. Hopefully we'll find a connection between someone who works or volunteers there or at the Boys and Girls Club of South Miami."

Just as Horatio was about to push the button to summon the elevator, the doors opened to reveal Ryan, Natalia, and Eric. They were escorting a perplexed looking man dressed in bib overalls. Even though Horatio knew the three had gone out to find their jug man two hours ago, he was surprised they were back so soon.

While Ryan and Natalia escorted their catch to the interview room that Pedro had just vacated, Eric quickly filled Horatio in. "We even took a SWAT team with us. I mean, somebody selling radioactive material; you gotta figure he's dangerous. Right?" His dark shadow beard faded slightly as he blushed. "This guy is living out in the middle of no where and doesn't even own a gun! He's about as harmful as a fly! Doesn't even seem to know what's going on."

"Did you check him for radioactivity, Eric?"

Eric smiled. "Hazmat did. They say he sends out a few clicks more than normal but isn't in any way dangerous to others."

"And did you find any of the jugs?"

"Yeah. An old tumbledown shed on the back of the property he's staying on. I just took a quick look at it. I'd say there are about twenty jugs left. Might have been fifty to start with. Hazmat says they have no idea what they're going to do with all of these jugs. They'll let us know."

"And you're going to be questioning him?"

Eric stretched, spreading his arms wide. As the shirt lifted, a bit of his trim waist was exposed "Yeah. We're going to try to figure out if he's working on some plan to kill people off, if he has no idea what he's been selling, or if maybe he's just plain nuts!"

Sally, who'd been standing to one side, waiting, spoke up, "Did I hear my name?"

"You're the one subbing for Pirelli, aren't you? Did I call your name?"

Horatio caught the defensive Eric's attitude and almost uttered a caution.

Ignoring the hostile tone and the second part of the sentence, Sally reached out her hand as she said, "Yup, but my real job is helping you guys figure out whether a perp is nuts or something else; you know, forensic psych. May I volunteer my services here? It might speed up the process."

Horatio relaxed as he saw Eric calm down. He hoped that perhaps Eric was just having a 'bullet in brain' episode. Whatever it had been, he'd successfully controlled it. He took Sally's hand and thanked her for any help she might give. The two then turned away and walked down a corridor that would bring them to the interview room without having to pass by the glass walls.

Surprised by Eric's hostile attitude and then by Sally's cooperative response, Horatio watched them a moment. When he turned to Frank, he went totally blank, not having a clue as to what they'd just been doing or why.

TBC

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