AN: if anybody notices terrible grammar or something, tell me, k? I'm going
to repost this story soon cuz I keep noticing places where I misspelled
stuff like "can't" or "said" or something. R&R please!!
Chapter Twenty One: Shoes and a Plan
"Well, I guess we've got our guy," Warrick said, looking at the marriage license.
"But in some ways, it doesn't make any sense at all," Catherine said. "I mean, the guy doesn't look much over forty, but he would have to be seventy! And why would he be using his real name? This killer is smart, remember? It might be a coincidence. Conner can't be a terribly unique last name."
"Heck of a coincidence," Nick said.
"Conner was at the scene last time. He was the only one there from the hotel," Sara said.
"If you had just been caught murdering someone, would you stick around?" Catherine asked.
"If I wanted to see how the investigation was going, sure," Warrick replied.
"Whatever," Catherine said, annoyed. "Can we prove anything?"
"Not really," Sara said. "We've got a couple prints, but nothing at one of the murder scenes. He can deny everything."
"What about the black hair?" Nick asked. "Conner has black hair, right?"
"Yeah, but there's no DNA."
"We have a shoe print from the latest scene, right?" Warrick asked.
"Yeah, but it's only a partial and there's no treads. It's worthless," Catherine sighed.
"Not entirely. We could ask the hotel staff for their shoes - to clear their names. Blaine would be more than eager to cooperate, I'm sure."
"So?" Sara asked, urging him on.
"Well, if we get Conner to come here, maybe we can ask some casual questions. Or someone could come by and mention something about the Fieldings. Whatever. See where I'm going with this?"
"Basically we're going to try and trick him into letting something slip?"
"Sure thing. Maybe we can pull some more dirt on Conner and innocently mention something. You never know," Warrick said.
"This'll never work," Catherine muttered, as Grissom went to call Blaine.
"Well," Sara announced, "all I've found is that Conner had plastic surgery about five years ago. Major plastic surgery. I tried to call the surgeon, but he's been out of business for three years or so. Oh, and Conner went to night school for a while."
"Plastic surgery to make him look younger?" Nick suggested.
No one had time to answer him because just then Conner walked in, holding a large bag of shoes. Grissom had convinced Blaine that Conner should bring in the shoes because they needed to talk to him about what he had seen the night of the latest murder.
"Mr. Conner," Brass said, "right this way." Brass led Conner to an interrogation room where Grissom and Warrick were waiting to print the shoes. Conner placed the bag of shoes on the table silently. Warrick opened a bag and began to remove the shoes and put them in a line across the table. Each pair was neatly marked with the name of the owner, and Warrick checked these names off on a clipboard. No one spoke while he was doing this.
Finally, Warrick broke the silence. "I don't see your shoes here, Mr. Conner."
Conner motioned to his feet. "I'm wearing them. I only have one pair of shoes for work, and I was supposed to be working today."
"I see." Warrick moved back to the table and began to print the shoes that were lined up.
"Mr. Conner," Grissom said, "I understand you were guarding the hotel the night of the latest murder?"
"Yes sir."
"Did you see or hear anything unusual, Mr. Conner?"
"No sir. A woman came up and asked me for help with her parking meter around the corner. I went to help her, and when I returned, the police had arrived."
"How long were you away from the hotel, Mr. Conner?"
"No more than ten minutes, sir."
Warrick leaned over and whispered something into Grissom's ear. Grissom nodded slowly, then turned back to Blaine. Warrick left the room and a few seconds later, Sara came in. She also whispered something to Grissom.
"Mr. Conner," Grissom said. "We're going to need your shoes."
Sara bent down and took the shoes off Conner. Instead of printing his shoes at the table like Warrick had done, she took them and left the room with them.
"Where is she going with my shoes?" Conner asked, beginning to feel a bit anxious.
"We ran out of ink. She had to take your shoes to the lab. Don't worry, she won't hurt them, Mr. Conner," Grissom said. "Now, are you sure you didn't see anything unusual that night? Why were you working if the hotel was closed?"
"Blaine wanted someone to watch for vandals."
"And you volunteered?"
"It's my job," Conner answered.
"Grissom, Brass?" Nick said poking his head in the door. "We've got a situation."
Chapter Twenty One: Shoes and a Plan
"Well, I guess we've got our guy," Warrick said, looking at the marriage license.
"But in some ways, it doesn't make any sense at all," Catherine said. "I mean, the guy doesn't look much over forty, but he would have to be seventy! And why would he be using his real name? This killer is smart, remember? It might be a coincidence. Conner can't be a terribly unique last name."
"Heck of a coincidence," Nick said.
"Conner was at the scene last time. He was the only one there from the hotel," Sara said.
"If you had just been caught murdering someone, would you stick around?" Catherine asked.
"If I wanted to see how the investigation was going, sure," Warrick replied.
"Whatever," Catherine said, annoyed. "Can we prove anything?"
"Not really," Sara said. "We've got a couple prints, but nothing at one of the murder scenes. He can deny everything."
"What about the black hair?" Nick asked. "Conner has black hair, right?"
"Yeah, but there's no DNA."
"We have a shoe print from the latest scene, right?" Warrick asked.
"Yeah, but it's only a partial and there's no treads. It's worthless," Catherine sighed.
"Not entirely. We could ask the hotel staff for their shoes - to clear their names. Blaine would be more than eager to cooperate, I'm sure."
"So?" Sara asked, urging him on.
"Well, if we get Conner to come here, maybe we can ask some casual questions. Or someone could come by and mention something about the Fieldings. Whatever. See where I'm going with this?"
"Basically we're going to try and trick him into letting something slip?"
"Sure thing. Maybe we can pull some more dirt on Conner and innocently mention something. You never know," Warrick said.
"This'll never work," Catherine muttered, as Grissom went to call Blaine.
"Well," Sara announced, "all I've found is that Conner had plastic surgery about five years ago. Major plastic surgery. I tried to call the surgeon, but he's been out of business for three years or so. Oh, and Conner went to night school for a while."
"Plastic surgery to make him look younger?" Nick suggested.
No one had time to answer him because just then Conner walked in, holding a large bag of shoes. Grissom had convinced Blaine that Conner should bring in the shoes because they needed to talk to him about what he had seen the night of the latest murder.
"Mr. Conner," Brass said, "right this way." Brass led Conner to an interrogation room where Grissom and Warrick were waiting to print the shoes. Conner placed the bag of shoes on the table silently. Warrick opened a bag and began to remove the shoes and put them in a line across the table. Each pair was neatly marked with the name of the owner, and Warrick checked these names off on a clipboard. No one spoke while he was doing this.
Finally, Warrick broke the silence. "I don't see your shoes here, Mr. Conner."
Conner motioned to his feet. "I'm wearing them. I only have one pair of shoes for work, and I was supposed to be working today."
"I see." Warrick moved back to the table and began to print the shoes that were lined up.
"Mr. Conner," Grissom said, "I understand you were guarding the hotel the night of the latest murder?"
"Yes sir."
"Did you see or hear anything unusual, Mr. Conner?"
"No sir. A woman came up and asked me for help with her parking meter around the corner. I went to help her, and when I returned, the police had arrived."
"How long were you away from the hotel, Mr. Conner?"
"No more than ten minutes, sir."
Warrick leaned over and whispered something into Grissom's ear. Grissom nodded slowly, then turned back to Blaine. Warrick left the room and a few seconds later, Sara came in. She also whispered something to Grissom.
"Mr. Conner," Grissom said. "We're going to need your shoes."
Sara bent down and took the shoes off Conner. Instead of printing his shoes at the table like Warrick had done, she took them and left the room with them.
"Where is she going with my shoes?" Conner asked, beginning to feel a bit anxious.
"We ran out of ink. She had to take your shoes to the lab. Don't worry, she won't hurt them, Mr. Conner," Grissom said. "Now, are you sure you didn't see anything unusual that night? Why were you working if the hotel was closed?"
"Blaine wanted someone to watch for vandals."
"And you volunteered?"
"It's my job," Conner answered.
"Grissom, Brass?" Nick said poking his head in the door. "We've got a situation."