Chapter Two
Besides the shell casings, nothing else probative had turned up in their search of the cafeteria. Any fingerprints that they found would most likely not do them any good. They could belong to any number of former students who were strolling down memory lane or to current students whose prints had every right to be there. The same would be true of any shoe prints recovered.
Given the lack of physical evidence, Nick and Warrick decided that they should begin the process of getting to know the victim. Who had Jack Moyer been? What was his relationship like with his classmates? Was there anyone who wanted him dead? The person who could best answer these questions right now was Linton Elwell.
The CSIs walked into the gym, which contained a much more notably subdued group. The news of Jack Moyer's death had spread throughout the crowd like a wildfire, thanks in part due to Linton. The music had been turned off and people were huddled in small groups, talking to each other. Their whispers only increased when Nick and Warrick made their towards Linton.
"Mr. Elwell, we have a few more questions for you. Can we talk to you for a moment? In private?" Nick asked.
Linton nodded and whispered something to the red-headed woman he had been talking to. She touched his arm in a sign of supportive comfort before he separated himself from her and followed the CSIs outside of the room.
"Mr. Elwell, we need you to tell us a bit about your cousin. Did he get along with his classmates?" Nick asked. He tried to keep his tone serious and yet casual at the same time so as to soothe Linton's nerves.
Linton hugged himself with his arms as he answered Nick's question. "He was the most popular kid in school. He was senior class president and played catcher for the varsity baseball team. He wasn't one of those guys who was popular because he made fun of others. Jack treated everyone with respect. He was a great guy. Nice. Funny. Smart. Genuine. Everybody liked Jack."
"Who did he hang out with in high school?" Warrick asked.
"Well, Jack hung out with lots of people, but he had a small group of close friends. There was Freddie McFarlane who was his best friend and played on the baseball team with Jack; Victoria Winston who was our Valedictorian; Stella Barnes who starred in almost every school play; Rebekah Prescott who was the school "do-gooder"; and me." Linton rattled off.
Nick and Warrick quickly exchanged glances before Warrick voiced the same question that Nick was thinking. "That's an interesting group of people. How did you guys end up being friends?"
"Yeah, we were kind of eclectic, weren't we? Well, like I said, Freddie and Jack played baseball together. Victoria and Jack had a lot of classes together so that's how they met and started to spend time together. Jack and I were cousins. Rebekah was a good friend of mine and I introduced her to Jack and the rest of the gang. Then she introduced us to Stella who was her childhood friend and next-door neighbor." Linton told them as he hugged himself even tighter.
It had a very "six degrees of separation" feel except on a much smaller scale. Nick still didn't quite understand how people from the opposite ends of the high school social spectrum ended up becoming good friends. This thought was further confirmed by Linton's next words.
"At first, I don't think that Freddie and Victoria were too keen on hanging out with Rebekah, Stella, and me, but Jack really got along with Rebekah so the other two stuck around. Gradually, we all became good friends. We did almost everything together." Linton began to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet in a nervous fashion.
Reading between the lines, Nick gathered that Jack, Big Man on Campus that he was, was the leader of the group and Freddie and Victoria would rather hang out with Jack and his less socially-acceptable friends than part company with him. Nick wondered if the perceived comradery of the group was genuine or just an act on the part of some of its members.
"Are they here tonight?" he asked.
"Yeah, they are. It's weird. This is the first time that all six of us have been in the same room since graduation and Jack ends up dead." The man laughed nervously and wiped a hand across his brow.
Nick refrained from commenting on this remark, but filed it away in the back of his mind. It might mean something or it might mean nothing. It was worth looking into though.
Instead, he asked. "Did Jack have any enemies? Any old grudges that we should know about?"
Linton shook his head. "No way. Like I said, everybody loved Jack. I don't know anyone who would want him dead."
"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Elwell. If we think of any more questions, can we get in touch with you?" Nick asked politely.
"Yeah sure. Anything to help find the person who killed Jack. I still live here so I'm easy to find. I'm a blackjack dealer over at the Tropicana." Linton told them with a nod.
Warrick suppressed a grin. It was hard to imagine a nervous, little man like Linton Elwell being a dealer in a casino. Maybe he should stop by the Tropicana and play a few hands with him sometime.
After Linton had walked back into the gym, Nick turned to Warrick and asked, "So, what do you think?"
"That's certainly an interesting group of friends. If they're the ones who knew the victim the best, I think they're the best place to start. One of them might have had a good reason to kill the victim or at least know someone else who did." Warrick said.
"That's what I'm thinking. We also need to get a list of the people who attended the reunion tonight." Nick said as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Warrick hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. "I don't know, man. Something doesn't seem right with that guy. He's awfully agitated. I usually associate that kind of behavior with a guilty conscience."
"Well, he could just be prone to that kind of behavior. There are a lot of nervous types out there. It doesn't mean that he's hiding something. " Nick said with an air of uncertainty.
Warrick considered this possibility. "Doesn't mean that he's not either."
A silence fell between them as each man considered his own thoughts.
Finally, Warrick scratched his head. "Well, if we go back to your theory about the killer, I'd say he's the kind of guy who'd shoot someone in the back. Linton Elwell is definitely not the paragon of manly virtue. I'm thinking we keep to the old rule for now."
"First witness, first suspect." Nick sighed as he let his hands fall to his side. "Let's get that list of attendees."
As they entered the gym, the red-head who had been talking to Linton Elwell earlier approached them with a graceful stride.
"Hi. Linny told me that you're the ones investigating Jack's death and he said that he mentioned my name to you. I wanted to give you my contact information because I don't live here in Vegas anymore. I am staying with my parents for a few days though. I don't know if I can be of help to you or not, but I thought I'd make myself available." She handed Nick a scrap of paper and he saw that her penmanship was possessed as much grace as she did.
Looking up, he asked, "You're Rebekah Prescott?"
She nodded with a smile. Nick remembered that Linton had referred to her as the school "do-gooder" and took note of her appearance. She was wearing a modest yet extremely flattering green dress with her dark, red hair cascading down her back in waves. Although she would not be considered beautiful by normal standards, she had a very striking face which was only made more radiant by the tears she had undoubtedly been shedding.
"Thank you for this. I feel certain that we're going to want to talk to you soon." Nick told her.
He watched her wipe a stray tear from her cheek and his heart was moved by her apparent grief. "I'm sorry for your loss."
Rebekah glanced away and said, "Thank you. Jack was a dear friend."
She turned to leave, but Nick held out a hand.
"Sorry to bother you, but do you know who we can talk to about getting a list of reunion attendees?" he asked.
Rebekah glanced around until she spotted Tammy standing next to the table she had been manning earlier that night. "Yes, you're going to want to talk to that blonde woman over there. Her name is Tammy Green."
Nick smiled in thanks.
They walked over to Tammy, who was talking animatedly with a group of women who were hanging on her every word.
"Excuse me, Tammy. You were the one checking people in, correct?" Warrick asked, walking up to her.
Without bothering to hide it, Tammy gave Warrick an appraising look. She clearly liked what she saw because she slid up next to him and placed a delicate hand on his arm. "Yes, sir, I was in charge of checking people in. Is there anything that I can do for you?"
"I was wondering if I could get a list of the people who attended the reunion tonight." Warrick told her as Tammy brushed up even closer against him. He fought the urge to pull away, figuring that it might be best to play nice so he could get what he wanted from her. After all, you catch more flies with honey.
"Of course! I'd be happy to give it to you!" She moved forward and grabbed the list off the table
Handing it to Warrick, she said, "This is the list of everyone who attended. It also includes personal information. For example, there's my name and that's my phone number. If there's anything, and I do mean anything, else that you need, please feel free to give me a call."
Behind him, Warrick heard Nick give a cough that was supposed to mask the chuckle he had let slip out. Tammy didn't seem to notice. She gave Warrick an enthusiastic smile, which he half-heartedly returned, and a wink, which he did not return. Warrick turned to Nick, who was smiling as well and signaled with a jerk of his head that it was time to go.
As they left the gym, Nick said mischievously, "I bet she'd like to hear your mime story."
"Shut up." Warrick growled.
Back at the lab, Warrick was dusting the shell casing for prints while Nick was looking over the list of attendees that Tammy had given them.
"The other three names, Victoria Winston, Freddie McFarlane, and Stella Barnes, are on this list, bro. They did check in with Tammy tonight. Linton was right." He thumped the list with his fingers.
"They all still live in Vegas so they should be easy to get in touch with tomorrow. You get any prints off those casings?" Nick asked.
"I got jack squat. Just a bunch of smudges. Nothing workable." Warrick said, frustrated. "The only thing that I know is that these casings belong to a nine millimeter. Once we get those bullets pulled out of the vic, we can verify that they are the same caliber as the casings we found in the cafeteria."
Nick's beeper went off and he grabbed it, checking the number. "Speaking of our vic, it's time for our autopsy."
About twenty minutes later, Nick and Warrick made their way to the morgue where they found Doc Robbins scribbling a final note on his clipboard.
"Hey Doc. What'cha got for us?" Warrick asked as he moved towards the slab that Jack was laying on.
"Well, nothing too surprising. Your victim was shot in the back twice. The second bullet wasn't needed as the first one went clean through his spinal chord before lodging in his heart. That's the one that killed him. The second bullet punctured a lung." the coroner informed them.
He grabbed a jar off of the table next two him and handed it to Warrick. "After some digging around, I recovered your bullets."
"Great. I'll get these to Bobby and see if they're nine millimeters." Warrick said, examining the contents of the jar.
"As for any other physical evidence, I didn't find any. He's in excellent shape except for the fact that he's dead. He has no wounds - defensive or offensive. I detected no signs of struggle. No skin under the nails. Nothing. He probably had no idea that he was about to die." Doc Robbins said with a shake of his head.
"Thank you, Doc." Nick said and he and Warrick left the morgue.
Once in the hallway, Warrick leaned his tall frame against the wall. "Okay, let's walk through our next course of action."
Nick leaned his shoulder against the wall and considered his partner. "We send the bullets to Bobby like you said. I say tomorrow we interview the rest of Jack Moyer's friends and see what they can tell us."
He glanced at his watch. "We still got a couple of hours left before the end of the shift. I say we do a bit of digging into the backgrounds of Freddie McFarlane, Victoria Winston, Stella Barnes, and Rebekah Prescott and see what we can uncover before we talk to them."
Warrick nodded in agreement. "Sounds good. Let's do it."
As the two men strolled casually down the hallway, Nick asked, "So did you go to your high school reunion?"
Warrick gave a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Nah. I thought about it. Part of me wanted to go back and show all those punks who gave me a hard time how much I've changed, but I realized that I didn't feel the need to prove anything to them, so I didn't waste my time. You?"
Nick shook his head. "I wasn't too keen on the idea of spending hours defending my career choice and talking about my father's inevitable election to the state supreme court."
"Yeah, that'd get old." Warrick was familiar with his friend's frustrations with his high profile family. While he knew that Nick deeply loved his family, he was aware of how hard Nick had worked hard to establish a name for himself outside of his family. If Nick went back to his reunion, he'd just feel overshadowed once again by his family name.
"I wonder why Jack went to his reunion. I get the feeling that he wasn't there to reminiscence since he was off meeting with someone. He was probably taking care of unfinished business left over from his school days. It obviously didn't go well." Nick mused.
Warrick sighed. "I guess it proves the old saying true. You can't go back."