At the Westwood Apartments …

The Westwood Apartments were one of those low-income jobs.  It reminded Sara of a cheap motel.  There were three floors and an open walkway on each floor lined on the east side by thirty apartments.  As she and Warrick exited the Tahoe they saw Sergeant O'Riley waiting on the second floor balcony for their arrival.  "Guy's name is Brian Collins.  Looks like suicide," he said as they came abreast of him.  "Only thing is, no note."

"Well, that's unusual for a suicide," Sara observed.

O'Riley just hummed in agreement.

"So how did he supposedly off himself?" Warrick asked.

"Shot gun in the mouth."

"Oh, like that's not suspicious," Sara remarked wryly.  "Have you been able to question the neighbors?"

"My guys are working on it.  But I had them save the immediate neighbors on either side for you.  They'd probably have a better feel for the guy than anyone else who lives here."

"Good point," Warrick said.

Sara and Warrick both grimaced when they entered the apartment.  Dead bodies were never really pleasant if one thought about it, but bodies that had their brains blown out through the back of their skull went way beyond "not pleasant."

Sara began snapping photos as Warrick left to question one of the neighbors.

Dylan Turner and Matt Royce were both second year college students and childhood friends sharing their first apartment.  And now they were seriously considering moving.

Warrick sympathized.  He remembered his first apartment.  Cheap was the key word.  And if someone had either killed themselves or been killed next door, he would have been packed and out of there before you could blink.

"What was Mr. Collins like?"

Dylan had a wide-eyed look of bewilderment on his face, while Matt just looked angry over this disturbance in his life.  "Brian was kind of a freak," the latter explained.

"What do you mean a freak?"

"Well he worked as a drag queen."

Warrick nodded and jotted down a note.  "Were people around here bothered by this?"

"Yeah, a few.  It kinda squicked me.  But he could be cool."  Matt then offered a shrug.

"Yeah, that happens sometimes," Warrick agreed lightly, wondering if it "squicked" someone enough to kill Brian Collins.  "So, did you see or hear anything unusual before the shot?"

Dylan seemed to finally be coming out of his daze.  "Um, Jimmy from – from 306 was there, like a half hour before or something.  Just for, like five minutes.  They were yelling at each other, then Jimmy slammed outta there."

"Jimmy?"

"Uh, Jimmy Baker," Matt explained.  "Big homophobe.  If you ask me he's in the closet though."

"R – right," Dylan agreed.  "I think Brian had a crush on him or something."

"Do you know if Jimmy came back?"

Matt and Dylan both regarded him in shock.  "Dude, you think Jimmy killed him?" Matt's voice squeaked out.

"I can't rule out all the possibilities."

"Um – uh, can we stay somewhere else tonight, or do we nee – need to stay here?" Dylan asked nervously.

"You can stay somewhere else.  Just give me your cell numbers or someplace I can reach you if I have anymore questions."

"Kay," Matt said as Dylan simply nodded.

Sara and O'Riley were discussing how her interview with Collins' neighbor, Tara Clay, had gone.  Tara lived in 210, Collins in 211 and Dylan and Matt in 212.  She said she had only been home for ten or fifteen minutes when she heard the gun shot and had stayed in her apartment out of fear.  Warrick came up to inform them of his results.

"O'Riley, did you interview the guy in 306?"

O'Riley opened his little notebook and began flipping through the pages.  "Uh, Jimmy Baker, right?"

Warrick nodded.  "That'd be the one.  What'd he have to say?"

"Just that he saw the guy around the complex occasionally.  Thought he worked at some drag club."

"Well the guys in 212 said he was over at Collins about half an hour before he died arguing, then stormed out of there."

"Really," Sara said arching an eyebrow.  "Interesting."

"Do you want to question Baker here, or back at the lab?" O'Riley asked.

"Let's just do it here."

Jimmy Baker was a large man, standing at well over six feet and built like a linebacker.  Warrick wasn't one to intimidate easily, but this man made him feel a little anxious.  Jimmy could easily break the CSI in two.  "Mr. Baker," he began, a little secure in the knowledge that he, Sara and O'Riley – who were flanking him – were armed incase the man decided to do just that.  "When was the last time you saw or spoke to Mr. Collins?"

"I already gave my statement to that guy," he snapped, gesturing toward O'Riley.

"Yeah, I know.  But I just need to hear it for myself."

"It was yesterday morning when I ran into him in the laundry room."

"Well according to two witnesses you were in his apartment arguing with him about thirty minutes before his death."

The man paled slightly.  "Wha – what?  I …"

"Were you there?" O'Riley prodded.

"Uh – yeah.  I – I went to tell him to leave me alone.  He was attracted to me, but I had no interest.  I was – I was only there a couple minutes.  He wouldn't listen to me so I left.  Do you think I killed him?  No fuckin' way!"

"What do you do for a living?" Warrick asked.

"Huh?  What's that got to do with this?"

"Just curious.  So I also know where to contact you if I need to."

"Oh.  Well, I'm a wrestler.  You know, over at the coliseum.  I hope to go pro eventually."

"Well, don't plan on leaving town and go professional," O'Riley warned.  "We may just need you."

Jimmy nodded as they left his apartment.