Chapter 13
"Where's the will, Constance?" Jamie's hand gripped her forearm tightly, twisting viciously.
"What will?" she asked, bewildered.
He backhanded her easily, his knuckles striking at her hairline in a practiced motion. She stumbled backward and glanced off the glass display case, finally coming to her hands and knees on the floor.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. And don't even think to lie to me. The second will, Constance. Your bitch of a grandmother's second will. Where is it?"
Constance shook her head blearily, one hand pressed against the open wound on her temple to stop the blood flow, the other cradled tightly against her chest. "Louis took it. He's had it since we found it."
"Louis..." His voice was considering, calculating. "Of course. Full circle. He hid it, and now that it's come to light again he's trying to hide it again."
Constance managed to pull herself to her feet, weaving slightly.
"Go clean up," he told her, his lip curled with disdain. "You look horrible."
He left her in the dark collection room, exiting with purposeful strides.
~*~
"Are you following me so far?" Grissom asked, but Constance didn't answer, her lips pressed thin.
~*~
"Hey, Geoff," Jamie said with a grin. "Listen, I forgot my wedding ring downstairs the other day. Took it off before our bout. Constance just noticed and she's going to kill me if I don't get it back right away - mind if I run down and get it?"
Geoffrey chuckled and let his brother-in-law in. "Harvard MBA, Jamie, and you'd forget your own head if it weren't attached."
"I like to be consistent," he laughed back. "Thanks. Hey, listen - you up for a bout later tonight?"
Geoffrey checked his watch. "I'll put Patrick to bed at around eight. Nine work for you?"
"A little later, maybe. I've got a business dinner at the Bellagio until eleven or so. Say midnight?"
He hesitated. "That's late, but...yeah, it works. See you then."
Jamie waved to confirm as he descended to the basement. Once there, he took his wedding ring out of his pocket and slipped it back on his finger, humming as he opened the ski closet and selected a pair of gloves to put into his briefcase.
~*~
Constance still refused to react, but her eyes were beginning to show understanding and fear. Nick wanted to reach down and touch her hand to comfort her, but he didn't dare while Grissom was still in the building.
~*~
Jamie opened and closed drawers swiftly, the ski gloves bulky and hot. In the bottom of the right-hand drawer he found the revolver, and staring at it for a moment, took it out to set on the floor by his knee.
"Where is it, Cavrel?" he asked himself softly, careful not to alert the staff members working down the hall.
Something caught his eye underneath the desk and he reached back, patting with his hand to see if maybe there was something taped underneath. He felt the crack in the wood, and he smiled tightly, scrabbling with his fingers for purchase, trying to dig his nails into the crack through the fabric.
"What are you doing here?" Cavrel hissed from the door.
Jamie jerked back, his glove catching on the corner of the the compartment and tearing. He stood slowly, gun in hand, keeping it out of sight. "Where is it, Cavrel?" he repeated, addressing the man in person this time.
"Where is what?"
"Don't play coy with me," Jamie snarled. "The will. Rose Galliard's second will. I don't know how you buried it the first time, but it's not going to stay hidden this time. Give it to me."
"This?" Cavrel reached into his suit coat pocket and unfolded a piece of paper slowly, a sly smile on his face. "This will never see the light of day." He stepped toward the fireplace, embers glowing slightly from the fire that had gone out while he'd left the room. The paper dangled from his fingers - and dropped.
In that instant, Jamie lunged forward, grabbing Cavrel's wrist, trying to pull him backward. Too late - the dry paper fell onto the embers and caught fire almost immediately, flashing into nothingness in seconds.
Jamie abandoned Cavrel's wrist for his left shoulder, yanking him forward and bringing the gun up. He paused for one, long moment of harsh breathing and eyes meeting along the barrel of the gun, and then he fired directly into Cavrel's face, stepping backward and letting the body drop to the floor face-first.
He stood for only a split second, shaking slightly, and dropped the gun next to the body, crossing the room quickly to put his fist through the window, followed by his elbow to increase the hole. Voices came down the hallway, and he moved faster, to the fireplace to see if any part of the will had survived, and then pressing the secret button. He closed the door just as Walter Green and Tom Daley entered the room.
"Oh my God, Louis! Holly, call 911!"
Jamie waited in the closet and stripped his gloves off. He stared at the right glove for a moment, spattered with gun powder and torn at the finger, and with a calculating smile, let it fall. Misdirection of evidence was often better than absence of evidence, or so Geoff was always saying.
~*~
Constance had started crying silently somewhere around the middle of Grissom's description, small individual tears that she wiped away angrily as they fell. "Jamie wouldn't frame Geoffrey. Never. They're like brothers."
"Of the Cain and Abel variety, perhaps," Grissom said gently.
"And it's my fault. I convinced Geoffrey to - it's my fault."
The CSIs exchanged confused glances. "What do you mean?" Nick prompted.
She drew in a shuddering breath. "I had talked to Louis the day before. I told him that I wanted the will destroyed. We've never needed money, and the Foundation, and the museum - it's done so much good. I don't know why Grandmother changed her mind, but I didn't want the museum to lose all its funding. And then I went to talk to Geoffrey. I convinced him to call Louis and tell him to get rid of the will. He was so angry that I'd kept it from him, but he agreed. Six years had passed...the Foundation became his passion, too. Jamie must have...he was in the other room, playing with Patrick. We were talking quietly, but not that quietly." The words spilled out of her in a rush, and she looked up at them with haunted eyes. "It's my fault."
"No, it's not," Sara told her, shaking her head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Constance looked like she would object, but a loud voice from outside the door interrupted her.
"What do you mean, I can't see my wife? Who do you think you are? Get out of my way!"
The officer was trying in vain to restrain James Lowell, who was growing progressively more angry and violent. "Let me in!"
Brass nodded to the officer, who stepped back and Lowell fell a few steps into the room, favoring the officer with a glare as if blaming him for his undignified entrance.
"Who the hell are you people, and why are you in my wife's hospital room?" He strode forward angrily, and Nick saw Constance cringe against the pillow, paling.
"We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, Mr. Lowell," Grissom said mildly.
"Crime Lab? Constance didn't have anything to do with that," Lowell blustered. "I want you out of here, now."
"Of course." Lowell preened at Grissom's easy acceptance, but froze when he heard the next words. "But we're going to need a DNA sample from you first."
"Whether we do that out in the hallway for everyone to see, or here in the room, is your choice," Brass added helpfully. "And if you could tell us where you were last night at ten o'clock without the necessity of an appointment down at the station, that would be helpful too."
Lowell's eyes darted from the two men to Nick and Sara, seemingly deciding he was safer with the older men than the young CSIs, both of whom seemed right on the edge of violence. "I was at the Bellagio until around eleven thirty. Business dinner."
"Care to tell us with whom?"
"It's a private matter. The deal isn't ready to go public yet, and my future partner would prefer his name not be broadcast." Lowell's air was haughty as he spat the words out.
"And yet you ate at the Bellagio. Fancy that." Brass favored him with a small, cold smile. "And the DNA sample."
"I may not have the law degree in the family, but I know you need a warrant for that."
Brass took great pleasure in flourishing the sheet of paper under Lowell's nose, who blanched slightly, but ground his teeth and worked his jaw muscles. "Fine. Whatever."
Grissom took the sample using the evidence kit he'd brought up with him, and when he had finished jerked his head for Nick and Sara to follow him out of the room. They did so, reluctantly.
"We can't just leave him in there with her!" Nick exploded once they reached the hallway, forcing the words angrily through gritted teeth so he didn't shout them.
"We can't do anything else," Grissom countered swiftly. "She says she fell down the stairs."
"We all know - " Sara began, but Grissom cut her off before she could go any further.
"Evidence, Sara. Evidence." The look on her face said she wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with that evidence, but she didn't say anything and he continued. "We'll get him on murder, and he'll never touch her again. Go to the Bellagio. Brass will have a warrant waiting for you to pick up at the station. Nick, take this sample to Greg. Do not leave his side until it's processed and call me with the results."
Nick nodded and took the sample from Grissom, leaving at a walk so fast it was nearly a trot. Sara remained, looking at the now closed door that led to Constance's hospital room, obviously torn.
"She'll be okay, Sara," Grissom said softly. "It's a public place. He can't hurt her here."
"Yeah. I know." She stared at the door for a few more seconds as if she could penetrate the wood, and then shook herself. "The Bellagio."
"The Bellagio," Grissom confirmed. "Casinos record everything that goes on in public areas. I'm betting James Lowell had no idea he was being filmed." He raised an eyebrow. "If he was even there."
She grinned at him fiercely in triumph and took off, not bothering to stay at a walk.