Episode Two: Cryptic Irony

2:17 A.M. Thursday, November 20: Las Vegas

It felt as if cold water was being poured constantly down her back. There were three things that she was scared of: the dark, enclosed spaces, and the dead.

Unfortunately, all those elements had been combined here.

This is a nightmare, she told herself as she swallowed against the gag over her mouth, and closed her eyes. This was a dream, and if she told herself to wake up, she would.

But when she opened her eyes, the scene around her had not changed. And then she realized that she was not dreaming at all. This was real, as real as anything could ever be.

And that...person had taken her here.

She had been completely, utterly stupid. She shouldn't have been so willing to trust, shouldn't have been so willing to accept that promise of more E. Hell, it was because of E that she had gotten here in the first place, and she promised to God that if she would only make it out of here alive, she would never touch the stuff again.

She felt deft fingers go around her waist, removing the belt that helped keep her jeans up around her hips. She tried to turn around, but almost instantly, she felt the leather go around her neck before it was cinched tight.

She coughed, and tried to clear her throat, but it was to no avail. Her air intake was limited all of a sudden, and she struggled, trying to find a way to help her breathe easier, but the more she moved, the more the noose tightened around her neck.

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the figure of her kidnapper placing a folded piece of paper at her feet, and then leaving through the elaborate wrought iron gate.

4:30 P.M. Thursday, December 4: Las Vegas

Nick frowned as he looked around at the crime scene. "An oddly appropriate place to commit a murder, don't you think?"

"No better place to deal with death," Sara said with a sigh.

Just then Grissom appeared from the interior of the mausoleum. He waved towards the inside. "I think you should come and see this."

Nick glanced at Sara momentarily before the two of them headed into the mausoleum. And the moment they did so, a rather gruesome sight confronted Nick.

The victim - a girl - was sitting in a chair, but a belt had been tied around her neck in such a way that if she so much as struggled to free herself, the makeshift noose would tighten and strangle her all the more.

"That's simply cruel," Sara muttered beside him as she slowly approached the body. She glanced at the victim's feet, and scowled. "The bastard made sure that she would struggle so she could strangle herself. Her feet are bound to the chair legs."

Nick frowned. "I'm getting a really weird sense of deja vu from this,"

"You should," Grissom said as he walked up to them. In his hand, he was holding a piece of bond paper. "Looks like we got another message from our mystery serial killer."

"You mean the guy who did this is the same one who killed Nancy di Gallo?" Sara asked as she looked up from where she was crouched next to the chair. Nancy di Gallo was the name of the girl they had found in the wine cellar a few weeks ago.

Nick blinked. "You mean the person who killed di Gallo was the same person who killed this one?" He glanced at the current victim, took note of the strangulation device, and turned back to Grissom, puzzled. "It's not the same MO."

Grissom shook his head. "No, but whoever the killer was, he left us another note." Here, he held out the paper he had been holding.

Nick took the sheet of paper, and unfolded it. Like the note that had been found near Nancy di Gallo, it was computerized text printed on ordinary bond paper.

Nick read out the contents as Sara stepped up beside him so she could read as well:

"Thy soul shall find itself alone

'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude

Which is not loneliness--for then

The spirits of the dead who stood

In life before thee are again

In death around thee--and their will

Shall overshadow thee: be still."

"That quote is from the poem 'Spirits of the Dead,' written by Edgar Allan Poe," Grissom explained. "Those are the first ten lines of the poem."

Nick controlled a shiver. "This is getting really creepy Gris," he muttered. "Who would even think to use Edgar Allan Poe's writing as a source of inspiration for murder?"

"A psycho, that's what," Detective Jim Brass said as he came up behind them. When he had their attention, he continued, "We just identified the girl: name's Evelyn Tyler, college student from California, though her family's from here. Came here with a couple of friends for the weekend. Went out for a drink around two weeks ago, and never came back. Her friends were the ones who filed the missing-person's report." His lips curled wryly. "Oddly enough, this is her family's mausoleum."

Sara grimaced. "Well, that certainly fits in with the lines of the poem."

Brass nodded, making a small sound of assent. After a thoughtful silence, he turned to Grissom. "Grissom, can I talk to you for a second?"

The senior CSI blinked, but nodded. "Nick, Sara, check the place for any more evidence - though if this was committed by the same person who killed Nancy di Gallo, I doubt if there will be any more. But check it all the same."

Nick nodded, and looked at Sara. "You take the left half, I'll take the right."

"Sure thing."

Grissom followed Brass to a quiet place behind the mausoleum. When the detective stopped, he did as well, placing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Something you wanted to tell me?"

Brass gave him an even look. "I just got a piece of news from the crime lab in Washington."

"Really?" Grissom raised an eyebrow. "What's DC got to do with this?"

"A lot. Apparently, six months ago they had a case that ran the same way."

Now Grissom was interested. "What do you mean?"

"There was a spate of serial killings there around six months ago," Brass explained. "The media had dubbed them the 'Poe Murders' because of the notes that were left on or near the victims when they were found."

"And did they solve it?"

"That's the point: they did. The killer's already been caught and is behind bars."

Grissom's eyes narrowed as another thought occurred to him. "Then we're dealing with a copycat killer."

Brass nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking. The supervisor of the DC crime lab, Anthony Wright, is sending the CSI who cracked the case, along with the files and documentation of their investigation."

"I see," Grissom muttered. The way things were going, they could possibly need all the help they could get. He glanced at the mausoleum. If this was, indeed, the work of a copycat killer, then someone who had worked on the original case might be able to predict what would happen next - and that would help them catch the killer before he had the chance to strike again.

He looked at Brass. "Did they say anything about when they were coming?"

6:19 P.M. Sunday, December 7: Las Vegas

"I cannot believe he said that! 'The air is cleaner in Sheffield' my butt!" Ami Tejada slammed her hand against the dashboard in front of her in frustration.

Mercy spoke up then. "Ami, chill. I know how you feel about this, and trust me, I'm on your side."

Ami turned to her best friend, who was currently driving. "Why couldn't he be more like you?"

"He's my half-brother, Ami. That should explain why we're so dissimilar." Mercy gave her friend a quick, brief smile as they stopped at a red light. "And even if he were my full brother, I'd still slap him stupid for what he said to you. Yes, the man is an idiot, and I can only hope that he doesn't get the stupid genes from my side of the family."

Ami chuckled at that, glad for Mercy's presence with her at the moment. If she had been driving alone, she would have caused more than her own fair share of vehicular accidents - she was simply too mad to stay in control of the wheel at the moment.

Ever since that night when she and her fiancé (currently ex-fiancé, she reminded herself) Alec Marvail had discussed where they would live after the wedding - a night when Ami had yanked off her engagement ring and stuffed it into Alec's open mouth - everything seemed to have gone downhill from there. She was only too glad to be able to get away from Alec for the time being by going to Las Vegas. While she knew that the man would most likely be staying with Mercy in the house they had rented in Las Vegas' posh district, at the very least he would be out of her hair while she made arrangements with the Cirque du Soleil.

For some strange reason, her near-death encounter six months ago had garnered her more fame and attention than her work ever had. Or rather, it put her work on the map. People were suddenly curious about why Landowe was so fascinated with her and her work - enough to go all psycho and kill innocent people in such an artistic manner. Gruesome, yes, but artistic nevertheless.

After all, it takes some sense of high aesthetic appreciation to be able to take Edgar Allan Poe's works and use them as a sort of guidebook about how to murder people.

She was thankful to many people for helping her live to see this day, when the famous Cirque du Soleil in Las Vegas would adopt her music and choreography. She was glad for Mercy and Tony, who worked at the crime lab day in and day out trying to figure out who was committing the murders. She was thankful for Malena, Isis, Blanca and Marsh, who protected her through hell and high water, even when a few of them nearly lost their lives or reputations.

But she was most grateful for Mercy's half-brother, Alec. He was the one who protected her when everyone else was not around. He was the one who went nuts trying to find her when Landowe finally did get to her. He was the one who saw her through every single stage of her emotional and mental recuperation after the event, and through Landowe's trial.

She scowled. After what happened a few nights ago, she was willing to forget a lot of things about Alec Marvail.

"Alec should know that there is no way in hell that I am going to part with the Philippines," she muttered. "I love my family there, and my life there too. He knows he should never ask me to part from those, of all things!"

Mercy sighed in understanding. "I know. He keeps on telling me that I should spend my vacations in Italy rather than in the Philippines, but I grew up spending my summers there and not in the villa on the Riviera. Besides," here she wrinkled her nose, "at least in the Philippines people don't care a rat's ass about me being Countess and all. There I can be normal - the same way that I can work here in the United States and be normal. I can't, and never will, have the same freedom in Italy."

Ami smiled sympathetically. The poor girl had a lot to deal with. Aside from her job as a crime scene investigator, she had to go back to Venice at least once a year, just to ensure the Italian gentry that the Countess di Salmileri was still alive and kicking. Alec had always been insistent about Mercy taking those trips, even when the girl didn't want to.

Realizing that if she kept thinking about Alec her blood pressure would shoot right through the roof, she instead turned her attention to Mercy's life - and why she was in Las Vegas in the first place. "So, why'd Tony send you down here all of a sudden?" She smiled wickedly. "Hard to imagine him being able to bear having your presence gone from the lab."

Mercy rolled her eyes, and replied, "He's coming down here in a few days, so he really won't be alone for long. As for me having to be here, well...it's a little complicated, and Tony told me not to talk about it to anyone - even to you and Alec."

Ami blinked. This is new, she thought. Usually Tony and Mercy didn't mind sharing the details of the cases that they were working on at the crime lab with Alec and Ami. Sometimes, the four of them would get together, just to check if Ami and Alec would catch or notice something that Mercy and Tony might have missed. "What is it about, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, apparently the Las Vegas crime lab is dealing with a spate of murders that are mimicking the ones that happened in DC," Mercy explained slowly. "So Tony sent me down here, along with the files and documentations, so that we could help in figuring the whole thing out before the killer strikes again."

Ami nodded, and didn't push the issue - for the time being, at least. She would let Mercy have her peace for now.

They eventually pulled up in front of the Bellagio Hotel, where Ami would be staying for the time being. She grinned when she saw the facade. "Reminds you of home, doesn't it, Merce?"

Mercy wrinkled her nose again. "This is nothing like the Veneto. The real Veneto has class - this is all flash and none of the class."

Ami laughed as she slid out of the car. "Bitter, are we?"

"Out, Tejada."

Ami laughed aloud, and got out of the front seat. A bellhop came over, and started unloading her luggage from the trunk of Mercy's car. After that had been done, Ami slammed the trunk shut, and tapped it twice to signal to Mercy that she could leave.

She stood there for a moment, watching as Mercy's taillights disappeared around the corner. And then, with a sigh, she turned around, and headed towards the reception desk so she could check in and settle down for a good night's sleep.