Shadow Play

Chapter 26

"I went through all of this five months ago when the stupid bitch turned up dead." Seated by himself on one side of the large interrogation room table, Ross Martin ran his hand through his shoulder-length blond hair as his gaze shifted from one detective to the other. "So, do you guys mind telling me why I'm back here again 'cause I sure as hell don't know."

"It's pretty simple, Ross." Rifling through the folder in front of him, Sam Vega looked up with a small smile. "We just need you to go over it again for us and then answer a couple of additional questions." He shrugged dismissively. "No big deal."

"Yeah, right." Martin snorted. "That explains why I was hauled back here from Carson City and then forced to sit in a cell while the local cops and the FBI argued over who was going to interview me." He glanced over at Paul Galetti. "I'm glad to see you finally decided to share."

"Detective Vega's right, Mr. Martin." Sitting forwards in his seat, Galetti stared at the younger man. "It doesn't have to be a big deal; all we're after are the answers to some questions and, provided you cooperate, you could be out of here and on your way in no time at all." He nodded towards the empty chair opposite his. "You sure you don't want an attorney present? We're happy to get one for you."

"No, I'm fine." With a resigned sigh, Martin waved off the offer. "I just want to get this over and done with."

"Okay then." Scanning the top page of his file, Vega started the proceedings. "Tell us about Janet Keyes."

"What is there to tell?" Martin couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice. "She's dead, I didn't do it, end of story."

"Well, you say you didn't do it but that's pretty much par for the course around here, Ross." Vega glanced up. "You have to admit you did have a motive for killing her."

"Yeah, I did." He nodded. "Thanks to her I lost my job, most of my friends and spent eighteen months on laundry duty up in Indian Springs." With a slow shake of his head, Martin's gaze dropped to the table. "My parents are decent people, man; it almost killed them seeing me in there."

"And that was all Janet Keyes fault, was it?" Crossing his arms, Galetti leaned back in his seat. "It had nothing to do with you?"

"Yeah, of course it did." Looking up again, Martin sighed deeply before continuing. "I was the one who stopped at that street corner looking for sex, I was the one who followed her into that alley and I was the one they came across holding a knife to her throat but I can't take all of the blame for what happened that day; she had a part in it too and not just as the poor, innocent victim like she told the cops that day."

"Well, that's how these read." Vega held up both Janet Keyes statement as well as those of the arresting officers. "So, how about you explain how your version differs."

"Okay." Inhaling deeply, Martin began to recount his side of the story. "It was late afternoon; I was driving home from work when I saw her standing on the sidewalk up ahead." Suddenly uncomfortable, he shifted on his seat and both detectives noted the slight flush of embarrassment that colored his cheeks. "I knew what she was and I didn't make a habit of paying for it, you know but, it had been a long week and I was tired and I just thought 'what the hell' and pulled up beside her." He glanced quickly at the two men before looking away again. "She asked me what I wanted and we agreed on a twenty for some straight, no-frills head so I popped the passenger door and suddenly she's backing away and telling me she'll only get into a car with one of her regulars; gives me this story about being attacked a couple of months back and says she'd rather lose the money than take that risk again."

Galetti turned to Vega with a frown. "Was an attack ever reported?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "Keyes was asked about it at the time and told the uniforms that she didn't report it because she didn't think she'd be believed." He shrugged. "She was probably right."

"Okay." Galetti turned his attention back to Martin. "Then what?"

"Then, she points out this alleyway about fifteen yards down the road and tells me to park the car and meet her there, that she'd be waiting just around the corner." Martin broke into a harsh, humorless laugh. "She was waiting all right – just her and her trusty six inch knife." Sobering quickly, he looked at his two interrogators. "Tells me all I have to do is hand over my wallet and walk away."

"Which you didn't do." Vega surmised.

"No." Martin agreed. "Now would be a different story but, back then, I had a problem with controlling my temper." His tone was full of regret as he glanced from Vega to Galetti and back again. "If there's one thing I can thank prison for it's the anger management courses they forced me to take but back then, in that alleyway, I just saw red; I rushed her, slammed her back against the wall and yanked the knife out of her hand." He shrugged. "I don't remember holding it to her throat or threatening to kill her like she said I did but that's when the cop car came around the corner and the next thing I knew I was facedown on the ground in handcuffs."

"And you didn't see the streets again until..." Vega checked his notes. "March 15 this year."

"That's right." Martin nodded emphatically. "I've been out for six months now and I've been staying out of trouble; I haven't done anything, man."

Ignoring the comment, Vega slid three photographs across the table towards him. "You come across any of these women before, Ross?"

"No, I've never seen them." Martin studied them briefly before pushing them back. "Why, they dead too?"

"Yes, they are." Galetti confirmed. "Just like Janet Keyes." Leaning forward, he locked eyes with the man opposite. "In fact, we believe the same person killed all four woman so... now do you know why you're here, Mr. Martin?"

"Oh no." Pushing his chair back slightly, Martin stared in shock at the two men. "I didn't do it; you are not pinning that on me."

"Seventh of August, thirty-first of August and the eighth of September." Reading from the folder, Vega rattled off the dates of the last three murders. "We need to know where you were and what you were doing."

"I... I don't know." Slumping slightly in his seat, Martin struggled to remember. "The first two were weekdays, right? So I would have been out during the day and home alone at night." He bit his lip, thinking quickly. "But the 8th was last Saturday wasn't it?" At Vega's confirming nod, he broke into a relieved smile. "Well, that one's easy because I spent the entire weekend round at my folks."

"All of it?"

"I went there straight after work on the Friday and stayed right through until Monday morning." Catching sight of Vega's dubious expression, Martin hurried to solidify his alibi. "Both my parents can confirm that and so can one of their neighbors; hell, I spent half the weekend in her garage. She'd just pulled an old classic out of storage and asked me to give it the once over before it went to its new owner. Sweet ride, man, '69 Mustang; she's in pretty good condition too - won't take much to get that baby back on the road."

Turning slightly in his seat, Vega glanced quickly at the mirrored wall behind him as Galetti took over the questioning.

"And why would she ask a truck driver for the Sanitation Department to give a classic car 'the once over'?"

"I'm only driving trucks until something better comes along." Martin informed him. "I'm a fully qualified mechanic or at least I was until I got locked up." He sighed. "By the time I got out, the economy had taken a nose dive and no one down here could afford to take me on. That's what I was doing up in Carson City; there's a week-long car show on up there and I was hoping to make some new contacts and get some work; I need it more than ever now since I told my supervisor exactly where he could park his damn trucks."

"When did you leave for Carson City?"

"Tuesday afternoon right after I quit my job." He shook his head in disgust. "You know, in the six months I worked for them I've gone in early, I've stayed late, I've worked entire weekends when they've needed me to but the minute I want time off, the bastard says he can't spare me." Realizing that his anger was beginning to build, Martin took a moment to calm himself before continuing. "I knew if I stayed there I'd end up doing something I'd regret so I stormed out and took off up north." He thought for a moment. "Must have been around three o'clock when I hit the road."

Keeping his voice level, Galetti asked the question both he and Vega already knew the answer to. "So you were nowhere near Westfall Avenue around 9:30 Wednesday night?"

"Absolutely nowhere." Martin confirmed. "And if you want to check that, I was staying at the Super 8 on Allen Street just along from the Convention Center; I got a room there late Tuesday night when I first arrived." He glanced up self-consciously. "The girl at the reception desk is kind of cute so I've been stopping by to chat with her a couple of times a day; she'll tell you I've been there the whole time."

"Okay, Mr. Martin." Glancing quickly in Vega's direction, Galetti saw the detective's almost imperceptible nod towards the door and, clearing his throat, pushed his chair back from the table. "If you don't mind waiting for a little while longer, we've just got a couple of things to check and then, I think, you'll be good to go."

Moments later, following the detective into the observation room, Galetti stood off to one side as Vega dropped his file on the room's small table and turned to the woman standing at in front of the one-way glass.

"We're on the wrong track, Catherine; we'll check with his parents and the motel clerk up in Carson City but my gut tells me it's definitely not him."

"I have to agree." Galetti stared at the CSI's back. "We could take him step by step through all four murders plus the attack on Dr. Grissom but I don't think it'd do us any good; I believe he's telling us the truth."

"So do I." Turning from the wall of glass, Catherine held up her cell phone. "I just spoke to Elaine Grogan and she confirmed that he is the mechanic she asked to work on the Mustang." She shrugged dejectedly. "That explains the fingerprints we found in the car and the hairs probably transferred from him to Gil via the driver's seat."

"So, it was a blow out this time." Pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning against, Greg moved closer to the glass as he watched the man on the other side. "At least we've eliminated one suspect."

"Yeah." Catherine managed a quick, mirthless chuckle. "Now we just have the other million plus citizens of Vegas to go through and, of course, all of the tourists." She frowned at the thought. "God, what if it is a tourist? He could be flying in a day or so before the murder, finding a suitable victim and killing them before flying back out again."

"Something else to be checked, I suppose." Galetti stated. "It might be worth having the airlines go through their records for the dates around each murder to see if the same name pops up." He thought for a moment. "And the rental agencies too; he'd need to have wheels." Pulling out his notebook, he jotted it down. "I'll get Harris on it this afternoon."

"Grissom needs to be told too." Vega pointed out. "We promised we'd keep him informed."

"I'll take care of that." Catherine told him. "There's something else I need to see him about anyway so I'll drop by on my way home."

Turning from the window, Greg gestured back over his shoulder. "Is it all right if I take him in a drink?"

"Sure; no problem." Vega nodded distractedly. "And you can tell him we won't be much longer, okay; another five minutes or so."

Pushing open the door of the interrogation room, Greg smiled warmly as he carried the ice-cold bottle of water across to the waiting man. "Here you go; I thought you could probably do with this."

"Thanks man, I appreciate it." Unscrewing the cap, Martin nodded towards the entrance. "Any idea when they're coming back?"

"Oh, it won't be long now; I don't think you've got anything to worry about." Pulling out a chair, Greg quickly made himself at home. "So... about that Mustang."

"Catherine!" Pulling open the condo's front door, Sara found herself confronted with one of the last people she'd been expecting and, mind whirring quickly, she attempted to come up with a plausible excuse for her presence in 'Grissom's apartment'. "I, uh, I was just-"

"Yeah, yeah; I know what you were just." Unable to help herself, Catherine broke into a wide, self-satisfied smirk. "So, how about we cut the crap and you invite me into your home?"

Moving back, Sara opened the door fully and ushered her guest into the apartment. "You know?"

"Of course I do." Stepping inside, the older woman rolled her eyes at the question. "Jeez, Sara, I get paid to be observant; did you seriously think the two of you were going to get something that big by me?"

Walking by her, Sara descended the stairs. "And yet you never said anything."

"Well that would have spoilt all the fun." Following the younger woman down to the kitchen, Catherine examined the large open-plan space with interest. "It's a great place, Sara, much nicer than the townhouse." She nodded towards the walls. "How'd you get him to lose the insect theme?"

"I didn't." Sara admitted with a grin, beginning to relax in the other woman's company. "There's still a few of them around but I like to think that this place reflects both our tastes." Pulling out two cups, she placed them on the counter. "Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee would be good." Dragging out one of the stool, Catherine took a seat. "So, where is he?"

"Asleep the last time I checked." Filling the kettle at the sink, Sara nodded towards the back of the apartment. "He got up for an hour or so first thing this morning but ended up going back to bed; he tires easily at the moment."

"Well that's understandable." Catherine looked on as she switched the water on to boil. "And there have been no problems since he's been home?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned." Sara smiled happily "I slept better last night than I have in days."

"I imagine you both did." Catherine returned the smile briefly before getting down to business. "Look Sara, one of the reasons I came by this morning was to ask you for a favor."

"Me?" Wary of the tone, the younger woman was instantly suspicious. "What sort of favor?"

"Well..." Catherine shifted nervously on her seat, all too aware of how her request was likely to be received. "We're going to be seriously understaffed tonight and I was hoping-"

"Oh, Cath, I don't know." Staring at her colleague, Sara shook her head. "Grissom's been home less than a day and I am still on medical leave myself, remember?"

"I know, Sara and, believe me, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate but Swing's been decimated by this flu that's going around and half of Dayshift's in court tomorrow for that bikie case they worked last year so I can hardly expect them to help us out." She looked across with pleading eyes. "Ecklie's scrambling like crazy trying to find some help for all of us but there's no way he's going to be able to get someone in time for shift tonight and Jim did mention that you're feeling a lot better than you were."

"Now that the antibiotics have kicked in, yeah, I'm feeling good but, like I said Cath, he's only been home one night." Sara shrugged. "I don't know how I feel about leaving him alone so soon."

"Will you at least think about it?" Catherine asked hopefully. "You really would be helping us out of a tight spot and it would only be for tonight; as soon as shift's over you'll be straight back on leave."

"I'll give it some thought but I'm not promising anything, okay?" With a sigh, Sara turned back to the now-boiling kettle. "I'll talk it over with Grissom and see what he thinks and then I'll let you know."

She was about to begin filling the cups when her cell phone rang and, picking it up from its place on the counter, Sara flipped it open.

"Sidle." She was silent for a moment as she listened to her caller. "Oh, Ms. Thomas, thank you for calling me back."

Striding across to the dining table, she moved the morning paper out of the way and picked up a small well-thumbed booklet. Watching her with interest, Catherine could just make out the words 'Loss' and 'Remembrance' on the front cover before it was opened up and Sara spoke again.

"I'm after some more information about one of your-" Glancing up quickly, she noted Catherine's interest and smiled into the phone. "Would you mind holding for a moment, Ms. Thomas?"

Placing her hand over the phone, she cocked her head towards the rear of the apartment. "You want to go through and see if he's awake, Cath? He's due his painkillers anyway so you won't be disturbing him."

"I can take a hint." Knowing she's been caught out; Catherine pushed to her feet with a wry grin and headed towards the hallway. "Which door is it?"

"First on your right." Sara told her with a relieved smile. "Tell him I'll be in with his meds in five minutes or so; I'll bring the coffee with me too."

"I'll let him know." Turning into the short hallway, Catherine made her way to the bedroom door and, after knocking lightly, she turned the knob and let herself in.

A low warning growl greeted her entrance and she froze in place as the dog on the bed, his head resting protectively on his master's thigh, studied her intently as he tried to determine whether she was friend or foe.

The growl shut down immediately as a reassuring hand was placed on the boxer's head.

"It's okay, Hank, she's not the enemy." After a couple of soothing caresses, Grissom felt the tension in the big dog's body relax and, satisfied that all was well, he turned his attention to his visitor. "I thought I heard your voice."

"I'm sorry." With her eyes fixed firmly on the dog, Catherine moved further into the room. "I hope we didn't disturb you."

"No, I was awake." Seeing her unease, he urged her forward. "You can come and sit on the bed if you like; Hank won't mind, now that he knows you're a friend."

With a dubious smile, Catherine perched on the edge of the bed and was surprised when the dog, all signs of aggression now gone, inched himself closer towards her. Holding out her hand, she let the boxer sniff her thoroughly before reaching up to ruffle his fur.

"Hey, Hank." Running her hand back and forth across his head, she was rewarded with the boxer equivalent of a grin. "You're a good boy, aren't you? Looking after your dad like that."

Dodging the lolling tongue, she looked at Grissom with a grin. "How are you doing?"

"Better." He carefully pushed himself up one handed, mindful of the stitches that lined his stomach. "Especially now I'm home."

"It's always better when you're home." Gently pushing the dog away from her, Catherine watched as he settled himself once again beside his master before she looked across at her friend with just the hint of a teasing smile. "Especially when you have someone to come home too."

Grissom rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh. "How long have you known?"

"Long enough." She grinned at the impatient look that statement brought. "Hey, you two started dancing round each other the minute she rolled into town, Gil and it was only a matter of time before you got together; anyone with half a brain could see that."

"Anyone but me apparently." Grissom offered her a rueful smile. "I wasted all those year backing away from her, Cath." He shook his head. "I was an idiot."

"No you weren't." Reaching across, she patted his hand. "Look, you could have jumped into bed with her all those years ago and it probably would have burnt itself out in a matter of weeks; trust me, I know that from my own experience. Instead, you both spent the time discovering what it was that you really wanted and building the basis of the relationship you have today; I only wish I'd been half as smart."

"That's one way to look at it, I suppose." Uncomfortable with such an in-depth scrutiny of his private life, Grissom sought a change of subject. "But, I'm sure you didn't come here to play relationship counselor so…" One eyebrow arced in question. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

With a resigned sigh, Catherine got down to business. "I wanted to let you know about the interview with Ross Martin." She shook her head. "You were right, Gil; he's not our guy."

"I'm sorry, Cath." Seeing the disappointment in her face, Grissom's tone softened in sympathy." I know you were hoping he was the one."

"Yeah, well." She nodded dejectedly. "If wishes were horses..."

"Beggars would ride." Grissom finished with a smile. "It seldom works out the way we want it to, does it? It seemed like a viable lead, Cath; it had to be checked."

"I know." Catherine shrugged it off with a smile. "I'll just sulk about it for a little while longer and then get on with things, I guess." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a familiar cell phone. "And, before I forget, I thought you might like this back; we're finished with it now and there's no point in it sitting round the lab any longer than it has to."

"Thanks, Cath." Taking it from her, he slipped it onto the bedside cabinet. "How are you getting along with Feds?

"Galetti's okay but I'm not too sure about Harris." One shoulder rose in a casual shrug. "He's kind of... standoffish. You recognized him, didn't you?"

"Yeah, from the Goggle case." Grissom nodded. "And, from the way our first meeting went, I think it's fair to say that the man has some issues with me."

"I wouldn't let it worry you too much." Catherine smiled at the statement. "I get the feeling Agent Harris is the type to have 'issues' with almost everyone." Looking at her friend, she cocked her head. "Could I ask you a favor?"

Leaning forward slightly, Grissom adjusted the pillow behind his back. "There's no harm in asking."

"It's just..." Unsure whether she was doing the right thing or not, Catherine hesitated slightly before pushing on. "I know Sara's still on leave and I know she wants to be here just now but... do you think there's anyway you could convince her to come in for shift tonight?"

Grissom frowned. "You're tapped out?"

"Big time." She confirmed with a nod. "And, at the moment, she's the only back up that I have."

"And you've asked her about it?"

"Of course; she said she'd think about it but..." She shrugged. "I have promised her it would only be this one time but she's worried about leaving you alone."

"She needn't be; I'd be fine." Annoyed at the inference, Grissom bristled slightly at the words.

"Well, perhaps if you told her that..." She let the rest of the suggestion hang.

He was silent as he thought it through. "I'll tell you what: I'll talk her into helping you out tonight on one condition - if she goes out on a case, she doesn't go alone." He instantly amended it. "Actually, that goes for all of you; I don't want anybody working by themselves. I don't want to give this guy the opportunity to take another pop at one of us."

Catherine frowned, suddenly concerned. "You think he'll come after us again?"

"I have no idea." Grissom told her honestly. "This thing's completely off-script at the moment so there's no predicting what he'll do." He sighed. "The only thing I know for sure is that we are not going to make ourselves targets – if people go out, they go out in pairs at least."

"Okay, that sounds sensible." She nodded her agreement. "It might make things kind of tight for us but I'll make sure everyone follows the rules." She glanced up hopefully. 'And Sara?"

"Will be there." Grissom gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Catherine; you'll have a full team behind you tonight."

"You sure you'll be all right?" Smoothing an errant crease out of the front of her freshly ironed shirt, Sara glanced up with an apprehensive frown. "I don't like the thought of leaving you alone so soon."

"Sara, I'm going to be fine." Relaxing back against the headboard, Grissom scanned his immediate surroundings. "I've got my books, my crosswords, the TV remote and enough food and water to satisfy an army; the only reason I'll have for getting out of this bed is to go to the bathroom and, even then, I only have to walk a few yards and I'm there." He offered her a reassuring smile. "So stop worrying and go to work; you're going to be late."

"Where's your meds?" Pulling on a lightweight jacket, she anxiously eyed the items on the bed. "And your phone? What have you done with your phone?"

"They're all on the bedside where you left them." He pointed out patiently as she searched her pockets for her keys. "And I know exactly what I'm supposed to take and when I supposed to take it so you don't need to panic about that either."

"I am not panicking." Pushing her own cell phone into one the pockets, she glared defensively.

"You're getting close." He softened the observation with a smile. "Just go, honey, Hank and I'll be fine; we'll probably both sleep the whole time you're gone anyway."

"Okay, okay." Realizing that she couldn't put it off any longer, Sara took a deep breath before rounding the side of the bed. "I've put newspaper down in the other bathroom so, if Hank needs to go out, he's going to have to either use that or keep his legs crossed until I get home." Bending over, she leaned in for a kiss. "Under no circumstances are you to try and take him out, okay? There's no way you'd be able to walk him at the moment anyway and the last thing I need is another night spent in the emergency room."

"I wouldn't even consider it." Grissom told her truthfully. "I know my limitations and, I promise, I'm not going to do anything stupid while you're gone."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it" Reaching over, Sara ruffled the boxer's ears and was rewarded with a slow wag. "You look after him, baby; I'm relying on you, okay?" She chuckled as the tail picked up speed. "That's my boy"

Pushing to her feet, she backed her way to the door. "You promise you'll call me if you need anything?"

"I promise." Grissom assured her. "But if you don't get going Catherine's going to be the one on the phone and that's something I can do without."

"I'm gone." With a final grin, Sara turned from the room and, a few seconds later, Grissom heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being pulled closed as she finally left the apartment. With a smile of his own, he patted the big dog's head. "What do you say, Hank; fifteen minutes before she finds an excuse to call and check up on us?" Reaching for the television remote, he amended his guess. "Better make that twenty; the traffic on Charleston can be pretty slow this time of night."

Flicking through the channels, he stopped briefly on the local news before continuing on to the sports channels and had just settled back to watch the roundup of the day's ball games when his cell phone chirped to life.

"Shows how much we know, huh?" Reaching to his right, Grissom grabbed hold of his phone as he snuck a quick look at the clock. "She lasted a whole five minutes."

Flicking the handset open, he didn't bother checking the screen.

"Grissom."

"Thank God for that!"

Taken aback by the unexpected statement, he frowned. "Excuse me?

"Do you have any idea how long I've had to wait to speak to you?" The tone was clipped; it's owner's impatience and frustration coming clearly down the line. "It's about time she left you alone."

Pulling the cell from his ear, Grissom stared at it hoping for a clue to the caller's identity and froze when he saw the number displayed on the screen. He took a deep breath in before raising the phone once again. "Who is this?

"You know what?" Amused by the sudden change in his tone, the caller chuckled. "I am really insulted that you don't recognize my voice."

"Am I supposed to?"

"Well, I'd have thought so." Standing in the street below, Ellie Brass looked up at the tall apartment building and grinned. "After all, I am the mother of your only child."

TBC