CHAPTER 4: DRAWING BLANKS
Nick and Warrick embark on their third, and what they both hope is their final trip out to Goodsprings Valley. As Nick circles, the block of a housing division Warrick keeps a watchful eye on the street signs and addresses for Miles's cousin's place. They'd been in town for thirty minutes simply driving around the residential area aimlessly at this point. There's a hint of discouragement in Nick's voice as he asks Warrick to double-check the address that Brass gave them. Nick turns onto Valley Street for the umpteenth time, causing both men to grow visibly frustrated with each other.
"Man, we've been down this street twice before. At this point, I'm starting to think we're lost," said Nick.
Warrick diverts his attention from looking out of the passenger window to his colleague before responding. "Yeah, you think? Let me see the address you wrote down that Brass gave us." He extends his left-hand palm side up for Nick to place the paper in.
Nick took one glance at Warrick's empty hand before pulling the car over to the center of the block, coming to a complete stop.
"Why are we stopping in the middle of the street?" asked Warrick, growing more upset.
Nick takes off his sunglasses doing so in a serious manner to look Warrick in the eyes. "Why are you looking at me like I have the address? You're the one Brass gave it to; I thought you wrote it down."
"No, I thought you did."
Rather than argue with each other, Warrick decides to call Brass to get the address from him, but just as he dials the number, Nick spots Sanchez's squad car parked in the driveway towards the end of the street.
"Wait, I see Sanchez's cruiser over there," says Nick pointing down the street through the windshield. He turns the engine over, drives down the end of the block, and pulls into the same driveway.
"This is it, 347 Valley Street," says Warrick before getting out of the vehicle.
He and Nick wait for Sanchez and his partner to sweep the place. When they give the go-ahead, both CSI's can enter the premises. They grab their kits along with a camera bag from the back end and enter through the front of the house, ready to investigate. Meanwhile, Sanchez and his partner stay out front to ensure Nick and Warrick's safety.
Miles's cousin's place is a one-level grey brick house that isn't any larger than 24000 square feet. It has an (empty) carport covered in a faded blue tattered tarp held up by wooden dry rot support beams the landscaping of neglected shrubs, tall weeds, and broken pottery on the front of the concrete stoop with stairs that have three steps leading up to the front door. As the CSI's trudge up the stairs, they notice that the screen door's broken, taken off its hinges, and lying propped up against the stairs handrail.
Nick raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "How do you think that happened?"
Warrick isn't the slightest bit surprised. "I have a hunch..." He paused; knowing better than to finish his sentence, let alone share his train of thought with his colleague, which was Larry Waters angrily, kicked the door down. However, the longer Warrick glanced at the door, the more he reconsidered his theory. Judging by the shoe imprint alone, it appeared this door had been kicked from the inside out.
"We'll be sure to lift that print, but for now, let's just head inside," said Nick.
He declared his and Warrick's presence as well as states their business while on the scene. The pair cautiously enters the house, observing their surroundings. The moment they entered through the front door, the foul, heavy, lingering smell of cigarettes and booze hit them. Both men develop a slight cough due to the sudden exposure to the toxic odor. A grimace expression appears on Warrick's face as he covers his mouth and nose as best he can with the crook of his elbow. Nick is so taken aback by the smell it nauseates him, resulting in him having to step back outside for some air.
Coughing, Nick excuses himself. "Man, I've gotta step out; I can't take the smell."
"Naw, I don't blame you," replies Warrick.
Ready to spring into action, Sanchez had one hand on the holster of his gun at the sight of Nick bolting from inside the house. He refrains from drawing his weapon once Sanchez realizes Nick just needed some air.
"You all right? You look a little green around the gills?"
While outside, Nick can't understand how and Sanchez and his partner didn't run out of the house gasping for air after having swept the place for clearance. Warrick came prepared, digging through his kit for some medical masks, placing his on, and keeping one out for Nick when he returned. Warrick felt sorry for not having mentioned or reminding Nick sooner that the inside of the house could smell. After all, the inside of the truck smelled. And come to think of it, Nick should have known too he's the one who photographed the inner part of the pickup before Warrick and Sara searched it.
Warrick starts his search in the living room to the right of the entrance. The floors are wooden, covered by a large area rug. There was a futon that appeared to also double as a bed. A pillow and a comforter, laying atop as though someone had been sleeping there. A stripped armchair sat in the corner, and a wooden end table with a lamp that looked like it was made out of antlers.
"Creative," comments Warrick regarding the lamp continuing to snap photos of their potential crime scene.
Empty beer bottles litter the coffee table, along with an ashtray filled with cigarettes. Warrick notices that the window in the living room sustained some sort of damage. It makes him wonder if it was a separate incident or if it correlates with their investigation into their hit-and-run. In place of the glass windowpane, there is plywood with a set of ugly plaid singed drapes.
Was it always like that, wondered Warrick, or was the glass replaced during a possible struggle by whoever bumped off Matt? He searched for traces of broken glass, but there were none to be found. Nick comes back inside, placing his medical mask on to rejoin his partner in investigating the scene. After spending over an hour in the house they conclude that there isn't a trace of evidence to support that Matt was killed there.
"HEY MAN, WHERE ARE YOU AT?" shouts Warrick, who finished processing the kitchen.
"BACK HERE!" yells Nick from the back bedroom, walking down the hall back toward the kitchen.
"Did you find anything?" asks Warrick.
"Naw, not a thing," replies Nick. "There's nothing here that points to Larry setting foot in, let alone near this place. I'm starting to think Miles is lying."
"Why lie?" asks Warrick. "Why the misdirection? If Larry didn't kill Matt, who did?"
"I don't know," replies Nick. "Your guess is as good as mine, but what do you say we wrap it up and get out of here?" He's eager to leave the residence, unable to stand the smell of the fumes any longer.
Meanwhile, Grissom is outside in the parking lot of the lab, crouched on his knees. The driver's side door is wide open for better access to the floorboard while Grissom searches for his cellular phone. He's extended the length of his arm as far as it will allow for him to reach under the seat.
Come on; I know you're around here somewhere. The tips of Grissom's fingers brush across the familiar object as he retrieves it out from under the seat. Ah-ha Gotcha! Upon discovery, the phone begins to ring and vibrate. Before Grissom presses the talk button, he notices two missed calls from earlier by the hospital and an incoming call from Doc Robbins.
"This is Gil."
"Where are you? You sound like you're in a broom closet?" asks Doc Robbins.
Grissom takes a knee using the driver-side door for leverage, managing to pull himself up to a standing position. "In a matter of speaking, I am."
Doc Robbins hears the distinct sound of a car door closing, making him aware that Grissom isn't in the lab but outside in the parking lot. He congratulates him on finding his phone and encourages Grissom to return to the coroner's office.
"I take it you have actual news for me?" asks Grissom.
Doc Robbins smiles to himself before replying, "I promise you I wouldn't have called if I didn't."
"I'm on my way; thanks for calling."
Grissom presses the end call button, securely placing his phone in his front pants pocket as he heads back inside the lab.
Brass and Catherine head back out to Goodsprings Valley to bring Larry Waters in for questioning. They pull up to the storefront when a commotion inside breaks loose. As they park, Catherine notices that Sheriff Talbert's huddled for cover just outside the passenger door of his cruiser with his weapon drawn.
"What the hell is going on?" asks Catherine to Brass while unbuckling her seat belt.
"I don't know," Brass replies, "but I'm going to find out. Stay here, slouch down, and under no circumstances are you to leave this vehicle."
"I can help," she pleads.
Brass gives her a stern look. "If you really want to help, you'll do as I say."
Catherine does as she's told while Brass joins the sheriff in cover behind his door.
"What happened?" asks Brass.
Sheriff Talbert fills him in. "Larry reported another case of theft. I shrugged it off until I arrived. As I pulled up, I heard shots fired. I don't know if it's a robbery in progress, a hostage situation, or what. I can't see. I don't know how many people are inside."
"Stay here," says Brass, "I'm going to gain access through the back entrance. Cover me."
"You've got it," replies the sheriff.
Brass makes his way to the back of the building, where he notices a civilian vehicle, a 2004 Jeep Wrangler, is idle and left running. He hides behind the dumpster after hearing more shots fired, awaiting for the suspect to possibly run out; when that doesn't happen, Brass decides to move in with his weapon drawn, cautiously entering through the back. He walks down the length of the hallway while checking the other rooms for clearance. Opening the first door to his left, Brass realizes it is just a supply closet full of cleaning products; a mop that was propped up against the door threatens to fall over, but his quick reflexes prevent this.
Brass moves on to the two doors to his right that are simply restrooms, but he bothers checking them for clearance anyway just to be on the safe side. As he nears the end of the hallway, Brass stops, spotting the convex security mirror positioned above the left corner of the storefront. In the reflection, he can see Larry cowering in fear on the floor behind the register while being held up at gunpoint. The gunman is male, roughly 5'11'', dressed in all black, including a ski mask armed with a pump shotgun. The gunman instructs Larry to stand up, but Larry ultimately refuses, claiming he knows the gunman will just shoot him if he does.
Outside the storefront Sheriff Talbert changes positions, moving from behind his car door seeking cover near the entrance. It's then that he notices the passenger door to Brass's squad car is wide open, and Catherine is nowhere in sight. Meanwhile, inside the store, Brass decides to move in. But as he makes his way down the aisle towards the gunman, he accidentally bumps into a carousel stand holding a variety of snack-size chip bags. The carousel stand topples over, startling the gunman, who whirls around to see Brass aiming his weapon at him.
"FREEZE! Las Vegas Police! Drop the weapon!"
Catherine creeps up behind the gunman, subduing him by heaving a fire extinguisher with all her might, hitting the gunman square in the back of the head. She just smiles at Brass before commenting. "Sill wish I would have stayed in the car?"
Sheriff Talbert moves in with his weapon drawn but places his gun back in the holster once he sees the gunman laying on the floor, knocked out cold. Brass checks on Catherine, who needs a moment of composure after performing such a valiant act.
"You all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, but you might want to check on Larry. He's..." Catherine's cut-off.
"Behind the counter. I know I could see Larry in the reflection of that mirror." Brass points above the register. "That was brave but stupid Willows. Don't let it happen again." Brass calls out to Larry. "Oh, Mister Waters! You can come out now; it's safe!"
Larry slowly but surely gets up from behind the counter, trembling all the while with fear. Meanwhile, Sheriff Talbert slaps a pair of handcuffs on the gunman, who regains consciousness shortly after. Brass is eager to reveal the shooter's identity as he kneels by the gunman to take off his ski mask.
"This feels like Scooby-Doo," Brass quips. "I'll bet it was the gardener," he says, peeling off the ski mask.
However, once Brass does, the shooter's identity shocks even Larry, whose eyes grow wide. He recognizes the gunman's face immediately because it's his son.
"Adam? You're the shooter?" says Larry, who's more confused than outraged. "Son, why did you do this?"
"You can discuss this back at the station," says sheriff Talbert helping Adam to a standing position while reading his Miranda Rights.
Adam resists struggling as the sheriff pulls him to his feet. After a moment's silence, he finally speaks. "I did it for you, dad," explains Adam. "I wanted to prove to you that the law enforcement truly doesn't give a shit, and they don't."
"Well," says Brass trying to defuse the awkward tension of the situation. "This family reunion is touching and all but Larry, you're going to have to come with us."
"Me?" What did I do?" asks Larry in a defensive tone.
"You threatened to assault two store patrons with a crowbar," explained Brass.
Catherine searches around for bullet holes and shells from the shoot-out, but none are found. "I thought you said there were shots fired?" she asks in confusion, turning to look at the sheriff.
"There was," sheriff Talbert replies while escorting Adam out of the storefront. "At least three."
"Five," corrects Brass. "I heard two more shots fired while I was around the back."
Catherine collects the shotgun as evidence, bagging and tagging it to take back to the lab.
Sara and Greg arrive at Tangiers. A symphony of noises assault their ears; the sound of slot machines, the clacking of poker chips, shuffling of cards, the uproar of people talking and yelling, and music over the speaker system make it difficult to heart. The smell of alcohol and smoke fills their nostrils once they enter through the casino doors. They split up with Sara chatting to the head of security. Meanwhile, Greg asks around, showing a picture of Miles to staff members and tourists to see if anyone recognizes him.
But after presenting the photo to several people who all claim the same thing that they haven't seen Miles or recognize him, Greg begins to lose hope until he flashes the photo to a female dealer working a Black Jack table. Greg almost wishes he weren't there on business because she was considerably cute, although not entirely his type, she was blonde, and he preferred brunettes. Greg forces the thoughts from his head, reminding himself that he's there to do a job not to flirt. She lets another dealer take over the table for her so she can speak with Greg. They both step off to the side so each can hear the other better while conversing.
Greg observes her nametag. "So... Veronica, you mentioned that you saw this guy," he holds up Miles's photo.
"How'd you know my name?" she asks. Greg points to her name tag. "Oh, sorry, sometimes I forget. Anyhow, yeah, he came in here." Veronica pauses, trying to recall when. "Last month."
"Wait? Miles was in here a month ago?" asked Greg in confusion.
"I meant to say two weeks ago, May 19th, to be exact. I remember because I had to work on my birthday," replied Veronica. "He came in here with some other guy, and they hit the tables winning big while playing poker. Sorry, but my break is only so long, and I still haven't eaten."
Veronica turns to leave, but Greg stops her. "Wait, could you point him out if you saw him again?"
"Yeah, why?" replied Veronica.
The head of security introduces himself to Sara. "Hi, I'm Tim; I'll take you to where all the action is. Follow me."
Using his access keycard, Tim leads Sara through a side door down a narrow hallway the length of a bowling lane to a room with multiple monitors. The screens show live footage of the inside and outside of the casino from IP security cameras being watched by two security guards. It takes a moment for Sara's eyes to adjust from the well-lit hallway to the dim light flashing from the television screens.
"Is this what you had in mind?" asked Tim to Sara. "This is the surveillance room. There are 2,000 cameras total connected to 50 monitors," he explains. "The 25 monitors to your right show the inside of the casino while the 25 monitors to your left show the outside."
"Wow," exclaims Sara, "that's a lot of coverage," she says, staring in awe of all the activity on the multiple screens.
"If you have any questions, Jack and Gus can help you out," said Tim, who leaves Sara to do his job.
"Hi, I'm Jack, and that's Gus," says the first security guard sitting to the right of Sara without averting his eyes from the monitors.
"Don't mind him," says Gus to Sara. "He just takes his job way too seriously." Gus gets up from his chair to shake Sara's hand.
"I was wondering if you guys could help me find someone?" asks Sara.
"Sure," replies Jack.
"Who?" asks Gus.
Just then, the door opens, causing light from the hallway to flood in as Tim returns with Greg and Veronica, the Black Jack dealer, following behind him. The room feels crowded in such an enclosed space with that many people, so Tim lets himself out but decides to stand just outside the door in case he's needed.
"Hey," says Greg to Sara. "I've got someone who can help us in the investigation; this is Veronica. She said she remembers seeing Miles in the casino on May 19th because that day was her birthday," explains Greg with an ear-to-ear grin, not even attempting to hide his feelings for Veronica.
Sara takes notice, and even in the dimly lit room, she can see Greg's cheeks burn. "Right... Okay, guys, you heard him," says Sara addressing Jack and Gus. "May 19th, I want to see any and all footage you've got of this guy." She takes the photo of Miles from Greg to show to them.
Gus tells Greg, Sara, and Veronica to wait there. "I'll tell Tim and help him retrieve the tape."
Once Gus is gone, Jack loosened up some, actually turning to look at them as he spoke. "I'd like to think that we're the eyes and ears of this casino," Jack comments with an overinflated sense of self-worth. Sara could tell he was very proud of the job he has. "Just so you know," Jack explained, "gaming regulations require us to keep surveillance tapes for 6-months to 1-year. After that, it's up to Sam whether we want to keep them or not."
"Sam? As in Sam Braun?" asked Greg.
"Yeah, he's the boss," replied Jack. "A great one at that."
"I beg to differ," says Veronica, arms crossed. "Considering he made me work on my birthday."
"He owns the casino," explains Jack, "he's not in charge of work schedules. Take it up with your shift manager, sweetheart."
"Take it easy, you guys," says Sara, who can sense the tension forming between Jack and Veronica.
Greg whispers to Sara. "Isn't he Catherine's dad?"
"Who? Jack?" Sara whispers back.
"No. Sam," whispers Greg.
"Not now," whispers Sara.
Gus's return puts a stop to Greg and Sara's discussion. "I've got the tape," he says, holding it up, handing it over to Jack, who pops it into a VCR player for them to review. "Sorry," Gus says, taking a seat. "It's a policy for one of us to be present while you watch the footage. Unless you've got a warrant, we can't release the tape to you."
"That's fine," says Sara.
"It is?" asks Greg, who didn't want to have a repeat of getting in trouble like before for not going to the impound lot.
"Yeah," replies Sara. "So long as we can confirm Miles was in the casino and Veronica can positively ID him, that should be good enough."
Grissom makes his way from the lab to the coroner's office. He's anxious to learn what Doc Robbins has to tell him, but his path is blocked once again by Hodges, who is lingering in front of the entrance door. Hodges perks up once he sees Grissom headed his way and is eager to tell him what he has to say.
"There you are!" exclaims Hodges. "I knew if I hung around here long enough that you'd eventually come by; I just didn't expect it to take an hour."
Grissom's patience was wearing thin with Hodges. "Would you..." he tries to step to the right to go through the second door, but Hodges moves in front of him, denying Grissom access.
"No, you told me later," said Hodges, "so I waited and waited and waited some more, but I'm through waiting..."
Grissom gave a deep outward sight before replying, "Okay, what is it?"
Hodges face lit up as he marveled at the moment.
"Hodges!" announced Grissom.
"Oh, right. Sara gave me a bottle she found at the scene, so I analyzed the contents." Hodges paused during his explanation for dramatic effect, eagerly awaiting Grissom's response to what he'd told him so far. "As it turns out, it had high traces of M.E.G. also known as Mono Ethylene Glycol or M.P.H. Mono Propylene Glycol. Properties found most commonly in none other than..."
Grissom answered for him, "Antifreeze."
He waltzes past Hodges whose mouth is agape. "I hate when you do that."
As Grissom enters the coroner's office rejoining Doc Robbins, he already developed a hunch on what he wanted to tell him. "Let me guess," says Grissom, "among the victim's stomach contents were Antifreeze."
"How did you know that?" asked Doc Robbins looking up from his work.
"Sorry, Hodges beat you to the punch," replied Grissom standing closer to observe the doc's handy work as he watched him stitch up a body.
"I'll bet you Hodges couldn't tell you the effects it had on this guy," said the doctor. "Give the mass amount of Antifreeze this guy ingested; it wasn't the hit-and-run that killed him."
"What did the toxicology report say? Was it alcohol poisoning?" asked Grissom.
Doc Robbins explains. "Not exactly, although he would have failed a Breathalyzer test if that's what you were wondering. This guy had 72 fluid ounces of Budweiser beer and 64 fluid ounces of antifreeze in his gut," he paused to look through his notes.
Grissom comments. "You're telling me Matt Whitman consumed an entire six-pack of beer and finished off half a gallon of antifreeze."
Doc Robbins continues his explanation. "Judging by the T.O.D. and the records the emergency room sent over, the effects of the antifreeze cause the following to Matt Whitman's body. It affected his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Matt's organs dysfunction, resulting in bladder and kidney failure. The effects would have caused blurred vision that could have led to temporary or even permanent blindness had he lived. An earlier side effect was slurred speech, which Matt probably thought was from the alcohol. In the end, Matt had a heart attack suffering from palpitations; caused by a rapid heartbeat."
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Catherine hands over the gun to ballistics expert Bobby Dawson for further examination and testing.
"Here," she says, handing the gun off to Bobby. "This gun was used in a robbery at a liquor store, and I was wondering if you could tell me what kind of bullets it takes."
A few minutes later, Bobby calls Catherine back into the room. "Is this a joke?" he asks.
"Excuse me?" replies Catherine.
"They're blanks," explains Bobby. "These," he says while holding up the bullet, "contain a lead core that's enveloped in a harder metallic case. Bullets poke out from the top of a shell, which also houses powder or a similar substance. Now, look at the shells bottom. Down there, you'll find both a rim and a primer. When the gun's trigger is pulled, a firing pin strikes the primer, causing the powder to ignite. As it burns, it rapidly releases gasses that build up with enough force to launch the bullet out of the cartridge and through the gun barrel."
Bobby puts down the bullet then holds up the cartridge. "In contrast, blank cartridges work by doing away with the metal bullets altogether. Instead, the top of the shell is crimped or covered with a wad of paper, plastic, felt, or cotton. The wadding or crimping prevents gunpowder from spilling out. In conclusion, fire a blank, and you'll get that convincing gunshot noise."
"Yeah, I know," Catherine, comments.
Bobby adds, "Because there is no bullet to be propelled as a result of the explosion, these special cartridges aren't likely to injure anyone ⏤ unless, of course, they are used improperly."
"Thanks," says Catherine.
