Chapter 13

Grissom stood next to me in the observation room. We were both staring forward, watching through the glass as Brass hauled Harry Montoya into the interrogation room. Brass gave Montoya a little shove towards his chair and then took a seat across from him.

"What'd you haul me in for?" Montoya asked. "Lauren's the one who pulled out the bean-shooter."

"Disturbing the peace," Brass quipped.

"Lauren pulled the gun on me. I didn't do nothing. "

"I've got a couple of witnesses who say you stormed into her dressing room. Maybe she felt like she had to draw her gun. "

Montoya sneered. "Right, Lauren needs protecting," he bit out, sarcasm all over his voice. He leaned forward. "Look flattie, she's a hard woman and she gets a little excited. She pulled the gun because she got a little hot, not to protect herself. "

"We'll see about that."

"I'm giving it to you straight. The broad's a little screwy. She's always going off on me, pulling stuff like this. It's a dangerous job being involved with a dame like her."

"You're breaking my heart," Brass deadpanned.

"You're gonna keep me here? "

Brass jerked a nod. "Yeah."

"Because Lauren pulled a rod on me? Come on."

"News flash, Harry, we didn't go to the casino to watch your moll point a rod at you. We were looking for you. We've got a few more questions that need answering."

"I want my lawyer."

"Fine, call him." Brass leaned back in his seat. "I've got all night."

I snuck a peek at Grissom. He was staring forward. He hadn't said anything yet, but I knew he was going to. I knew I'd gotten him a little steamed, not backing away from the scene at the Tangiers after he told me to.

"Greg, when I ask you to step back, you do it."

I didn't say anything. A guy doesn't ignore Grissom when he says something and I hadn't been ignoring him when he asked me to step back. I just chose not to listen to him. I'd figured I had a good reason. Everyone in the lab had done something similar, Grissom included. They'd all played cop before, going off half cocked. Nick was known to chase down a suspect on his own, even when he got after other people for doing it, Nick's words and actions not always running along the same line. Rumor had it, Sara charged in after a suspect before and got chewed out good by Nick and Brass. Catherine had saved Grissom from serial when he went too far out on his own. I figured Catherine or Warrick couldn't be completely innocent of any of that kind of action either. It happened. I knew a guy could get himself in a lot of trouble playing the hero, but people around here did it all the time when they felt they had to. Back at the casino, I had felt I had to stay put and ease Lauren Perske out of the fix she'd gotten herself into.

"You were unarmed."

He had me there. I stepped into a situation, unarmed, where a gun was drawn. I never carried. It was probably the reason he didn't get after Sara for standing in that doorway with her gun drawn. She hadn't been given much of a choice. I could have safely backed away, but I'd stayed, because I'd had a line on Lauren Perske. We'd sparred a few times. I'd figured she would listen to me, and eventually, the dame had.

"I talked her down," I said.

"You should have left that to Brass. He should have been the one talking her down."

"What if he couldn't?"

I didn't think I was entirely off base, but Grissom scoffed. "Brass is trained for these sorts of situations, Greg. He knows how to deal with them. That's part of his job. He's the cop; you're the criminalist."

Brass was also the guy who'd just been shot the last time he'd went up against someone with a gun. Not that anyone else would have been any more successful in that crazy situation, but it had to have had some sort of affect on him. Sure he was tough, but that experience could have frozen him a little. I'd stepped forward knowing I was our best option. I wasn't so sure Lauren Perske would have been as open to listening to Brass as she had been to me. "I had a line on her Grissom. I knew what she needed to hear."

"Greg, this isn't up for discussion. When I tell you to do something, you do it."

I stayed silent. I knew the discussion was over. Grissom wouldn't hold onto this. He knew it was a mistake none of the guys on the shift had been innocent of making. It was his job as the boss man to get his point across. I'd listened. Grissom had gotten his point through. It was time to move on and think about the case.

We stood silently, looking through the glass as Brass and Harry Montoya sat across from each other, both silently waiting for the entrance of Montoya's oddly quiet mouthpiece. Sara joined us a few minutes later. "Perske's weapon is now in evidence."

Grissom nodded.

Sara glanced at me. "Cartridges were full."

I looked back at Sara. "Well, we know she didn't know about Montoya and Camille Vanasse before Vanasse was killed."

Sara shook her head. "We don't know that. They could have been putting on a show. Montoya was hanging around outside the dressing room before we arrived. He only went in after we saw him. Maybe he spotted us and decided a nice commotion might help out his girlfriend, or spin us in some more circles."

"She pulled a gun on him."

"And caused a very big scene, I know, but I doubt Montoya's about to press any charges. "

I shrugged. Sara could have had a point. Perske and Montoya could have been playing an angle. The whole thing was like one big act, from the empty nightclub to the characters in it. It was hard to decipher the lines. If we wanted to start understanding this little play, we needed more to go on. Montoya's DNA under our dead canary's fingernails was a good start.

We all stood watching as Montoya's mouthpiece finally arrived. He was quiet as usual, greeting Montoya with a nod and sitting down next to him. Montoya looked at his lawyer, then across the table at Brass. "Well, lawyer's here. You gonna tell me what this is all about?"

"Camille Vanasse has your DNA under her fingernails. Now, do you want to tell me what that's all about?"

"What can I say? Sex got a little…rough." Montoya leaned forward and spoke in a voice almost too low to here. "She likes to scratch." He winked.

Brass sat up straight. "You've got an answer for everything, don't you Harry?"

Montoya shrugged. He had a smile plastered on his face. I wondered if Brass wanted to wipe off that smile just as much as I did.

"That might be a good thing for you when you have to explain yourself in court."

Montoya sat back and frowned. His narrow eyes watched Brass.

"Maybe you can give me a few more answers right now, but let me give you the lay first. The thing is, Harry, everything keeps coming back to you. See, we know Camille Vanasse had a little help OD'ing, by somebody who probably figured we wouldn't look too far into the death of a junkie. She's got some marks around her neck, so we think that maybe somebody held her down and forced something down her throat. Maybe she tried to fight back. Maybe she even scratched."

"You can't pin this on me!"

"You knew the girl, Harry. You slept with her. Your hands are just the right size to make the bruises we found on her neck. Now, we have your DNA underneath her fingernails."

"Look, I told you, the sex got a little rough."

"That may account for your DNA, but it doesn't explain the bruises."

Montoya leaned over and whispered something to his mouthpiece. He leaned forward. "The girl liked it rough. We were messing around. I was lit. That canary loved playing the tragic beauty. She wanted to be dominated. She asked me to choke her a little, so I did. She liked it, and just to be straight, so did I, but I stopped."

It threw me a little that he admitted to strangling Vanasse. From what I could tell, it threw Brass a little as well. "You choked her hard enough to give her those bruises."

Montoya shrugged. "The broad bruised easily."

Brass leaned forward. "You know, you sure remember a lot of what happened that night for someone who had as much to drink as you said you did."

"It comes back in bits and pieces." Montoya let his lips curl up into a closed-mouthed self-satisfied smile.

"So what happened? She get scared? Freak out on you? Threaten to run to Fava?"

Montoya shook his head. He was still smiling. "She went and snorted some nose candy. I had a cigarette."

Grissom turned to Sara. "Sara?"

"Right."

She slipped from the observation room and into the interrogation room. I watched through the glass as she planted a piece of paper on the table before Montoya.

Montoya picked it up and looked at it. "What's this?"

"It's a warrant. Please remove your shirt."

Montoya narrowed his eyes at Sara. He gave her the up and down, and then, smiled. "Anything you say, baby."

I frowned. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Grissom do the same. Sara just ignored the comment and lifted up her camera.

Montoya slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He made a show of taking it off for Sara, but she wasn't watching. When he was finished, she looked up from her camera. "Hold up your arms, please."

Sara snapped several photos of his chest, arms and back. Montoya watched her, winking at her when her camera snapped shots of the curly hair on his chest. Now and then, he'd make a few wisecracks, trying to work whatever charm he thought he had on Sara. Sara just ignored him and continued to snap photos. Then, she rejoined us. "A few scratches running down his left pec, and a couple on the left side of his back, almost on his side, about mid-level high. They could come from sex or from Vanasse scratching at him while he was over top her and choking her. There are some scratches running down his arm too that I doubt came from any consensual sexual encounter. Vanasse could have scratched at the arm when he was strangling her."

I didn't buy Montoya's claim that Vanasse wanted him to strangle her. I could tell Sara didn't buy it either. Grissom had on his poker face, so I couldn't guess at what he thought. With him, it could go either way. I knew that he knew a little about domination and submission. Word was he knew more than a little. I knew a little myself. The kind of thing Montoya was getting at wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but it just didn't fit with our canary. I couldn't see Camille Vanasse, in love with Vito Fava, running to Harry Montoya so that she could be dominated. Fava didn't seem like he was lacking in the dominant department. I also didn't see Montoya indulging her in any strangulation, not when her bruises would be very visible to his pal, Fava. I said as much to Grissom and Sara.

Sara nodded. Grissom sighed. "Right now, we can't prove otherwise."

Can't prove otherwise. In other words, we had to let him go. Montoya probably knew it, which was why he hadn't dropped the knowing smirk. He could wear it for the time being, but I was going to find something that would wipe it right off his mug.