AN: I decided to add a bit about Grissom to Chapter 14, so I'll put it here
too, so you don't miss anything. Anyway, this chapter's longer, so enjoy!
"No one's touched the body Grissom," Brass said as soon as he saw Grissom approach. "Looks like her wallet is in her purse, though. Maybe we could get an ID."
Grissom nodded, and approached the body slowly. Someone had already taken pictures of the scene, and the police hadn't found anyone suspicious lurking nearby.
A purse was sitting on the couch beside the victim, and Grissom looked it over carefully before giving it to Brass. Brass pulled out the wallet and sifted through the contents.
Grissom studied the victim. She was blonde, and her face was mostly gone. When the window was shot in, the victim was hit with both glass and bullets. Retrieving a bullet from the side of the victim's head, Grissom noticed something in her mouth. Packing the bullet carefully away, Grissom pulled the thing out of the victim's mouth. It was a small speaker.
"Grissom, we've got an ID!" Brass called. "Carol Benton, 18 years old, born March 26, 1984. Blue eyes."
Glancing at the victim's disfigured face, Grissom saw brown eyes. The last victim's real eyes were green, he remembered, puzzled. "Call Sara," he told Brass. "She's doing background checks."
As Brass dialed, Grissom looked around Catherine's house. Aside from the broken windows and the dead body, everything was clean. There was only blood on the couch, and Grissom suspected it hadn't even been there before the victim was shot at through the window.
At the computer, Sara leaned back and stretched. Now instead of just being tired, she was tired, cranky, and sore. She was pushing back in her chair, ready to give up and go get some coffee, when she accidentally hit a button. Glancing up at the screen quickly to be sure all was well, something caught her eye and Sara froze, a small smile creeping across her face. She had Elizabeth Martin's credit card account on the screen, and Sara saw three little words that couldn't have made her happier. "The Regal Hotel."
Chapter Fifteen: The Hotel
Moving with a newfound energy, Sara checked all the other victims' accounts, including the latest victim, Carol Benton's, and, sure enough, they had all stayed at The Regal Hotel recently. Leaning back in her chair, Sara allowed herself a smile.
Catherine and Warrick were in the lobby of The Regal Hotel, trying to locate Ellen Simpson, Edward Jones, hotel security, and the manager they had seen in the room that night.
"I think they're avoiding us," Catherine said to Warrick, as yet another employee scurried by them, avoiding their eyes.
"Well, we'll just have to go to them then," said Warrick as he disappeared behind a door marked 'Employees Only.'
"Warrick!" Catherine hissed, looking around, afraid that security had seen. But no one was paying any attention to them, so Catherine quickly followed her colleague.
Inside the door was a simple hallway with four unmarked maroon doors lining the walls. Warrick, of course, was no where to be seen.
After reciting some choice words under her breath, some directed at the hotel, some at Warrick, Catherine grabbed hold of the doorknob closest to her and opened the door.
In the dim light that was shining in from the hallway, Catherine could see it was an office. It seemed to be unoccupied, so she closed the door and crept forward to see if there was a nameplate on the desk, using a small flashlight to illuminate the room. There was an odd smell in the room; a familiar smell, but Catherine couldn't place it. The black leather luxury office chair was high-backed and turned away from her, so that suddenly all the movies she had seen where an evil villain sat in a chair like that came rushing back to her. She could clearly see the evil sneers and hear the evil cackles as the chairs in the movies all turned around at once, revealing the corrupt mastermind behind it all.
Catherine's hand was at her gun. Don't be silly, she scolded herself. It's just a chair. In the back of her mind, though, she thought on or maybe that's just what I'm supposed to think.
Her hand remaining on her gun, Catherine resumed her search for a nameplate.
"Jillian Rivers, Owner of The Regal Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada," the gold plate nestled on the desk read.
That's funny, I don't remember a woman at the crime scene other than the maid. Catherine's thought was interrupted by the squeak of hinges.
The door was opening.
Sara flicked open her cell phone, a smile still on her face, and dialed Warrick. She remembered him saying he was going to the hotel. As the phone rang, she checked the dates and times the rooms were rented, and if they were all as expensive as Tamara Richards' was.
Catherine couldn't move. Not only was she breaking and entering, she was also in a dark office with an evil rotating office chair. Just as someone was about to step into the room, Catherine heard a cell phone ring. She saw the door jerk, as if the phone had scared the one opening it as much as it had scared her. She tried to make out the words, but the voices were quiet. She crept closer to the door.
"That's great, Sara. I'll tell Catherine as soon as I see her. Keep me posted. Bye."
Catherine flung the door open.
"Hey, Cath. I was just looking for you. Sara just called. She said that –"
"Warrick, we are not exactly doing something legal here! Come on, we're going to find the manager."
"All right, that's fine with me, Catherine. If they'll talk to us," Warrick added. "Sara said that all the vics stayed here recently. Credit card payment."
Catherine slid the door open and they slipped into the lobby again, unnoticed by patrons and employees.
"Where did you go?" Catherine asked Warrick accusingly.
"When?"
"When you went in there!" Catherine hissed, gesturing towards the 'Employees Only' door.
"Oh, then. Supply closet, nothing special. You?"
"I only went in the owner's office where you found me."
"The owner? No kidding."
"Jillian Rivers. Ever heard of her?"
Warrick thought a moment. "No…What are you thinking?" He asked, noting the look on Catherine's face.
"I didn't see her at the murder scene. If I were the owner, I would be at the scene, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. It's bad for business when a serial killer strikes at your hotel."
"The manager was there," Warrick pointed out.
"I know," said Catherine. "But still…"
Sara was digging for more similarities between the victims, but nothing was coming up. The hotel rooms were not the same in any way – different prices and locations. The only similarities between the victims were their birthdays, their hair, and the fact that they had stayed in a room at The Regal Hotel. She dialed Catherine.
"Willows," Catherine answered.
"Hey, Cath, did you find the manager yet?"
"Not yet, why?"
"Well, there's something about that hotel… It's the victims' only connection. The murderer has to have a connection to the hotel too. I'm thinking –"
"Employee," Catherine finished for her. "Me too."
"They need to be brought in for questioning."
"I know," Catherine sighed. "But they are all doing a very good job avoiding us."
Catherine hung up her cell phone. "It was Sara," she informed Warrick and filled him in on the conversation.
Just then, the phone at the front desk rang. Catherine and Warrick looked at each other briefly and then walked to opposite sides of the front desk. The manager Catherine remembered from the crime scene ran into the lobby and picked up the phone.
"The Regal Hotel," he answered, sounding a lot cheerier than he looked. He arranged a reservation and then hung up the phone, sighing.
"All right," he said. "What do you want?"
The members of the hotel staff that had been present at the crime scene were brought in for questioning. There were only five of them: the night maid, Ellen Simpson; the room service worker, Edward Jones; the manager, Cameron Blaine; and the two security guards, Travis Conner and Carl Johnson.
"Look, we don't know anything," Cameron Blaine announced, wringing his hands. "Can we go? We have to run the hotel!"
"Keep your shirt on," Warrick said to the manager. "We just need some more information about the hotel to continue our investigation."
The manager looked pained. "Information?"
"Yes, information. We would like to know about your security systems, who has access to what, and so on."
"Um…I don't know…" The manager fidgeted in his seat. "I'd have to ask the owner."
"The owner?" Catherine asked innocently.
"Jillian Rivers. She's on vacation, and we haven't heard from her."
"When did she leave?"
"The morning of the murder…we called her when it happened, but she hasn't called back. I just don't know what to do! She handles press and public relations, and I don't want to say the wrong thing and loose my job! I thought she would call. She's the type who would call –"
"Mr. Blaine," Grissom interrupted. "What about your security systems?"
"I – I don't know much about that. You'd have to talk to Conner and Johnson about that." He motioned towards the security guards. Grissom looked at them. Conner spoke first.
"We have nine security guards in all, three per shift. Adams was sick that night…he's the other one on our shift. We have security cameras, but we've been having problems with them. We're getting them fixed next week. Something with the wiring…I'm not sure. We usually don't have any problems at all. One of us watches the monitors, one of us watches the front door – the only door that is unlocked from the outside, and one of us patrols for any trouble. There was nothing that night…"
Johnson said, "We didn't see anything unusual. I was covering the front door and Conner was watching the monitors. No one came in who wasn't registered."
No one spoke for a minute. "We'll need a guest list as well as an employee list," Grissom said, breaking the silence. "You can go. Tell the owner to contact us as soon as possible."
"Yes…yes of course, sir. Thank you," Mr. Blaine blubbered, and they left to go back to the hotel.
"Sara," Grissom called as he walked down the hall.
"Yeah?" Sara poked her head out of the break room.
"We need to check on the owner, Jillian Rivers. She's supposed to be on vacation, but no one's heard from her." Sara nodded and headed back to the computer. "Catherine?" Grissom said.
"Yep?"
"Somehow the killer is connected to the Fielding family. Get Kyle and Elisabeth to look at photographs of the hotel staff and guests to see if they recognize anyone. We've got two hours before our shift ends."
"Jillian Rivers, age 45…Owner of The Regal Hotel…blonde, brown eyes…" Sara mumbled to herself. She looked at Jillian Rivers' credit card accounts. "Plane ticket to Hawaii – lucky! …hotel reservations…" Sara thought a moment and then picked up the phone and dialed the airline Jillian Rivers had bought her ticket from. They put her on hold, so Sara idly clicked through the rest of the information about Jillian Rivers. She's single, no kids, lots of money…oh, no…
"May I help you?" a cheerful voice crooned through the phone.
"Um, yes. Jillian Rivers was supposed to fly to Hawaii last week, but she hasn't been in touch, and I'm worried. Could you check and be sure she made her flight?"
"Of course, dear, do you have the fight information?"
Sara read it to her.
"All right, hold on one minute," the woman said as she went to check.
Sara looked at the screen again, but it hadn't gone away.
"I'm terribly sorry, dear, but it seems she didn't make her flight."
Shit. "Thanks so much, I'll bet she was late. I'll call and see if she was caught up at work." Sara hung up the phone and looked at the screen again. It was still there.
"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for?" Kyle asked Catherine as she laid the photographs of the hotel staff out in front of him.
"Just see if you recognize any of them," Catherine replied, placing the last picture on the table.
Kyle picked up the pictures one by one, looked at each of them, shook his head, and passed them to Elisabeth. She looked at them and then placed them face down on the table. Kyle picked up the last picture and studied it longer than the rest. He leaned over to Elisabeth.
"You think?"
"No…impossible."
"Not really…anything's possible."
"I don't think he could do it."
"Me either, but…"
"I suppose we ought to tell her."
"We should."
"You do it."
"No, you. You've worked with her."
"Exactly! She's angry with me already!"
"And not with me?"
"No."
"Fine, fine. Hey, Catherine," Kyle called, looking up.
Catherine, who had been attempting to follow the conversation, said as calmly as possible, "Yes?"
"We believe we recognize this man, but we cannot be sure. He looks like someone we…used to know."
"Who?"
"Our brother."
"What is this, a freakin' family reunion?" Catherine cried, slamming her coffee mug down on the counter.
"Calm down, Catherine." Warrick advised. He picked up the picture of the room service worker, Edward Jones, who Kyle and Elisabeth believed to be their brother, James. "It might be him. He's got access to the hotel." Warrick shrugged. "Let's just bring him in."
Sara rushed in, dragging Nick and Grissom.
"What's this about, Sara?" Grissom asked.
"This!" Sara cried, shoving a printout in Grissom's face. "Jillian Rivers never boarded her plane that day. She hasn't been heard from, and – and –" Sara stopped, trying to catch her breath.
"And she was born on March 26," Grissom concluded.
"Wonderful," Catherine said "Just great."
Suddenly, she remembered the office at the hotel. How easily the doorknob had turned. How dark and quiet it was. The dark black chair, turned away from the door. Catherine's eyes widened as she realized what the smell was. "Oh, shit."
"No one's touched the body Grissom," Brass said as soon as he saw Grissom approach. "Looks like her wallet is in her purse, though. Maybe we could get an ID."
Grissom nodded, and approached the body slowly. Someone had already taken pictures of the scene, and the police hadn't found anyone suspicious lurking nearby.
A purse was sitting on the couch beside the victim, and Grissom looked it over carefully before giving it to Brass. Brass pulled out the wallet and sifted through the contents.
Grissom studied the victim. She was blonde, and her face was mostly gone. When the window was shot in, the victim was hit with both glass and bullets. Retrieving a bullet from the side of the victim's head, Grissom noticed something in her mouth. Packing the bullet carefully away, Grissom pulled the thing out of the victim's mouth. It was a small speaker.
"Grissom, we've got an ID!" Brass called. "Carol Benton, 18 years old, born March 26, 1984. Blue eyes."
Glancing at the victim's disfigured face, Grissom saw brown eyes. The last victim's real eyes were green, he remembered, puzzled. "Call Sara," he told Brass. "She's doing background checks."
As Brass dialed, Grissom looked around Catherine's house. Aside from the broken windows and the dead body, everything was clean. There was only blood on the couch, and Grissom suspected it hadn't even been there before the victim was shot at through the window.
At the computer, Sara leaned back and stretched. Now instead of just being tired, she was tired, cranky, and sore. She was pushing back in her chair, ready to give up and go get some coffee, when she accidentally hit a button. Glancing up at the screen quickly to be sure all was well, something caught her eye and Sara froze, a small smile creeping across her face. She had Elizabeth Martin's credit card account on the screen, and Sara saw three little words that couldn't have made her happier. "The Regal Hotel."
Chapter Fifteen: The Hotel
Moving with a newfound energy, Sara checked all the other victims' accounts, including the latest victim, Carol Benton's, and, sure enough, they had all stayed at The Regal Hotel recently. Leaning back in her chair, Sara allowed herself a smile.
Catherine and Warrick were in the lobby of The Regal Hotel, trying to locate Ellen Simpson, Edward Jones, hotel security, and the manager they had seen in the room that night.
"I think they're avoiding us," Catherine said to Warrick, as yet another employee scurried by them, avoiding their eyes.
"Well, we'll just have to go to them then," said Warrick as he disappeared behind a door marked 'Employees Only.'
"Warrick!" Catherine hissed, looking around, afraid that security had seen. But no one was paying any attention to them, so Catherine quickly followed her colleague.
Inside the door was a simple hallway with four unmarked maroon doors lining the walls. Warrick, of course, was no where to be seen.
After reciting some choice words under her breath, some directed at the hotel, some at Warrick, Catherine grabbed hold of the doorknob closest to her and opened the door.
In the dim light that was shining in from the hallway, Catherine could see it was an office. It seemed to be unoccupied, so she closed the door and crept forward to see if there was a nameplate on the desk, using a small flashlight to illuminate the room. There was an odd smell in the room; a familiar smell, but Catherine couldn't place it. The black leather luxury office chair was high-backed and turned away from her, so that suddenly all the movies she had seen where an evil villain sat in a chair like that came rushing back to her. She could clearly see the evil sneers and hear the evil cackles as the chairs in the movies all turned around at once, revealing the corrupt mastermind behind it all.
Catherine's hand was at her gun. Don't be silly, she scolded herself. It's just a chair. In the back of her mind, though, she thought on or maybe that's just what I'm supposed to think.
Her hand remaining on her gun, Catherine resumed her search for a nameplate.
"Jillian Rivers, Owner of The Regal Hotel, Las Vegas, Nevada," the gold plate nestled on the desk read.
That's funny, I don't remember a woman at the crime scene other than the maid. Catherine's thought was interrupted by the squeak of hinges.
The door was opening.
Sara flicked open her cell phone, a smile still on her face, and dialed Warrick. She remembered him saying he was going to the hotel. As the phone rang, she checked the dates and times the rooms were rented, and if they were all as expensive as Tamara Richards' was.
Catherine couldn't move. Not only was she breaking and entering, she was also in a dark office with an evil rotating office chair. Just as someone was about to step into the room, Catherine heard a cell phone ring. She saw the door jerk, as if the phone had scared the one opening it as much as it had scared her. She tried to make out the words, but the voices were quiet. She crept closer to the door.
"That's great, Sara. I'll tell Catherine as soon as I see her. Keep me posted. Bye."
Catherine flung the door open.
"Hey, Cath. I was just looking for you. Sara just called. She said that –"
"Warrick, we are not exactly doing something legal here! Come on, we're going to find the manager."
"All right, that's fine with me, Catherine. If they'll talk to us," Warrick added. "Sara said that all the vics stayed here recently. Credit card payment."
Catherine slid the door open and they slipped into the lobby again, unnoticed by patrons and employees.
"Where did you go?" Catherine asked Warrick accusingly.
"When?"
"When you went in there!" Catherine hissed, gesturing towards the 'Employees Only' door.
"Oh, then. Supply closet, nothing special. You?"
"I only went in the owner's office where you found me."
"The owner? No kidding."
"Jillian Rivers. Ever heard of her?"
Warrick thought a moment. "No…What are you thinking?" He asked, noting the look on Catherine's face.
"I didn't see her at the murder scene. If I were the owner, I would be at the scene, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. It's bad for business when a serial killer strikes at your hotel."
"The manager was there," Warrick pointed out.
"I know," said Catherine. "But still…"
Sara was digging for more similarities between the victims, but nothing was coming up. The hotel rooms were not the same in any way – different prices and locations. The only similarities between the victims were their birthdays, their hair, and the fact that they had stayed in a room at The Regal Hotel. She dialed Catherine.
"Willows," Catherine answered.
"Hey, Cath, did you find the manager yet?"
"Not yet, why?"
"Well, there's something about that hotel… It's the victims' only connection. The murderer has to have a connection to the hotel too. I'm thinking –"
"Employee," Catherine finished for her. "Me too."
"They need to be brought in for questioning."
"I know," Catherine sighed. "But they are all doing a very good job avoiding us."
Catherine hung up her cell phone. "It was Sara," she informed Warrick and filled him in on the conversation.
Just then, the phone at the front desk rang. Catherine and Warrick looked at each other briefly and then walked to opposite sides of the front desk. The manager Catherine remembered from the crime scene ran into the lobby and picked up the phone.
"The Regal Hotel," he answered, sounding a lot cheerier than he looked. He arranged a reservation and then hung up the phone, sighing.
"All right," he said. "What do you want?"
The members of the hotel staff that had been present at the crime scene were brought in for questioning. There were only five of them: the night maid, Ellen Simpson; the room service worker, Edward Jones; the manager, Cameron Blaine; and the two security guards, Travis Conner and Carl Johnson.
"Look, we don't know anything," Cameron Blaine announced, wringing his hands. "Can we go? We have to run the hotel!"
"Keep your shirt on," Warrick said to the manager. "We just need some more information about the hotel to continue our investigation."
The manager looked pained. "Information?"
"Yes, information. We would like to know about your security systems, who has access to what, and so on."
"Um…I don't know…" The manager fidgeted in his seat. "I'd have to ask the owner."
"The owner?" Catherine asked innocently.
"Jillian Rivers. She's on vacation, and we haven't heard from her."
"When did she leave?"
"The morning of the murder…we called her when it happened, but she hasn't called back. I just don't know what to do! She handles press and public relations, and I don't want to say the wrong thing and loose my job! I thought she would call. She's the type who would call –"
"Mr. Blaine," Grissom interrupted. "What about your security systems?"
"I – I don't know much about that. You'd have to talk to Conner and Johnson about that." He motioned towards the security guards. Grissom looked at them. Conner spoke first.
"We have nine security guards in all, three per shift. Adams was sick that night…he's the other one on our shift. We have security cameras, but we've been having problems with them. We're getting them fixed next week. Something with the wiring…I'm not sure. We usually don't have any problems at all. One of us watches the monitors, one of us watches the front door – the only door that is unlocked from the outside, and one of us patrols for any trouble. There was nothing that night…"
Johnson said, "We didn't see anything unusual. I was covering the front door and Conner was watching the monitors. No one came in who wasn't registered."
No one spoke for a minute. "We'll need a guest list as well as an employee list," Grissom said, breaking the silence. "You can go. Tell the owner to contact us as soon as possible."
"Yes…yes of course, sir. Thank you," Mr. Blaine blubbered, and they left to go back to the hotel.
"Sara," Grissom called as he walked down the hall.
"Yeah?" Sara poked her head out of the break room.
"We need to check on the owner, Jillian Rivers. She's supposed to be on vacation, but no one's heard from her." Sara nodded and headed back to the computer. "Catherine?" Grissom said.
"Yep?"
"Somehow the killer is connected to the Fielding family. Get Kyle and Elisabeth to look at photographs of the hotel staff and guests to see if they recognize anyone. We've got two hours before our shift ends."
"Jillian Rivers, age 45…Owner of The Regal Hotel…blonde, brown eyes…" Sara mumbled to herself. She looked at Jillian Rivers' credit card accounts. "Plane ticket to Hawaii – lucky! …hotel reservations…" Sara thought a moment and then picked up the phone and dialed the airline Jillian Rivers had bought her ticket from. They put her on hold, so Sara idly clicked through the rest of the information about Jillian Rivers. She's single, no kids, lots of money…oh, no…
"May I help you?" a cheerful voice crooned through the phone.
"Um, yes. Jillian Rivers was supposed to fly to Hawaii last week, but she hasn't been in touch, and I'm worried. Could you check and be sure she made her flight?"
"Of course, dear, do you have the fight information?"
Sara read it to her.
"All right, hold on one minute," the woman said as she went to check.
Sara looked at the screen again, but it hadn't gone away.
"I'm terribly sorry, dear, but it seems she didn't make her flight."
Shit. "Thanks so much, I'll bet she was late. I'll call and see if she was caught up at work." Sara hung up the phone and looked at the screen again. It was still there.
"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for?" Kyle asked Catherine as she laid the photographs of the hotel staff out in front of him.
"Just see if you recognize any of them," Catherine replied, placing the last picture on the table.
Kyle picked up the pictures one by one, looked at each of them, shook his head, and passed them to Elisabeth. She looked at them and then placed them face down on the table. Kyle picked up the last picture and studied it longer than the rest. He leaned over to Elisabeth.
"You think?"
"No…impossible."
"Not really…anything's possible."
"I don't think he could do it."
"Me either, but…"
"I suppose we ought to tell her."
"We should."
"You do it."
"No, you. You've worked with her."
"Exactly! She's angry with me already!"
"And not with me?"
"No."
"Fine, fine. Hey, Catherine," Kyle called, looking up.
Catherine, who had been attempting to follow the conversation, said as calmly as possible, "Yes?"
"We believe we recognize this man, but we cannot be sure. He looks like someone we…used to know."
"Who?"
"Our brother."
"What is this, a freakin' family reunion?" Catherine cried, slamming her coffee mug down on the counter.
"Calm down, Catherine." Warrick advised. He picked up the picture of the room service worker, Edward Jones, who Kyle and Elisabeth believed to be their brother, James. "It might be him. He's got access to the hotel." Warrick shrugged. "Let's just bring him in."
Sara rushed in, dragging Nick and Grissom.
"What's this about, Sara?" Grissom asked.
"This!" Sara cried, shoving a printout in Grissom's face. "Jillian Rivers never boarded her plane that day. She hasn't been heard from, and – and –" Sara stopped, trying to catch her breath.
"And she was born on March 26," Grissom concluded.
"Wonderful," Catherine said "Just great."
Suddenly, she remembered the office at the hotel. How easily the doorknob had turned. How dark and quiet it was. The dark black chair, turned away from the door. Catherine's eyes widened as she realized what the smell was. "Oh, shit."