"You know, I think I may actually enjoy this little meeting, Sam."
Vega nodded at Jim Brass from where he leaned against a green-tiled wall. "Yeah. Not often we can say that."
Brass returned the nod from where he sat at the faux wood table, hands crossed in front of him on its surface like a penitent Catholic schoolboy. Under those hands sat a thick manila folder. The label read Orozco, Ramon and it was this guest that they were waiting on so patiently.
The subject of their conversation soon made himself known, even before he'd made it into the interrogation room.
"Hey! Watch the arm! Goddamn pig! I'll add your name to my suit. You see that?"
Ramón entered the room backwards, his left finger still pointing threateningly at the officer who had escorted him in. The officer maintained an expression of stone and held the door open to allow the entrance of Ramón's attorney. She was an Hispanic woman in her mid-forties. The suit she wore was probably a month of Jim Brass's salary. The shoes and briefcase the mortgage on his tiny house in Seven Hills.
Brass stuck his meaty palm out to greet the attorney. He knew her by name and by reputation.
"Ms. Diaz. Captain Jim Brass. This is Detective Sam Vega. And Gil Grissom from the crime lab will be joining us shortly. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
She returned his handshake with a firm warm grip, her smile not quite as warm. "No, Thank you, Captain. I'd like to get this over with as quickly as possible. My client is in a great deal of pain and needs to be returned to the infirmary as soon as possible."
"Oh, of course," Jim said with feigned sincerity. He gave a sad look at Ramón who sat huddled in his plastic chair, pouting and rubbing at his arm. "Not feeling too good, Ramón? That's a shame."
The drug dealer was no longer sporting the expensive silk threads he fancied. His current ensemble consisted of a blaze orange jumpsuit and a dark blue arm sling.
"Don't act like you care. That asshole Stokes is gonna pay for what he did. He shot me. I was unarmed in my own home and he came in and shot up my house. And he killed my girlfriend. Son of a bitch is gonna pay. The city is gonna pay."
Brass smiled as he noted that Orozco mentioned his house before the death of his supposed girlfriend.
"Easy there, Orozco. We're just here to talk. We'll try to take it easy on you. Your condition, you know."
Ramón gave him a sullen glare but sat quietly in his chair.
"Ahh, here we are. Now we can get this party started, huh?" Brass said as he saw Grissom walk in with his own manila folder and a harried appearance. "Gil Grissom, this is Juanita Diaz. Of Forester, Campbell, and Diaz?" he said pointedly. Grissom raised eyebrows at that information and nodded at the attorney. "Ms. Diaz, Gil Grissom with the crime lab. So. Now everyone's here we ready to make this formal?"
"Yes, please, Captain," the attorney replied coolly.
"Fine." Brass opened the manila folder in front of him and appeared to be reading the top sheet. In actuality he was just enjoying the drama.
"Ms. Diaz, would your client like to make a statement?"
"He would. Go ahead, Ramón," she said, touching him lightly on the shoulder.
Ramón pulled away from her with a dirty look and shook free of her touch. He leaned over the rickety table and put his finger on the scarred surface.
"Your cop came into my house. He shot me. He shot up my house. He shot Gina. He--"
"Yes, yes," Jim cut in. "We know that part. Tell us from the beginning."
"Gina and me was having a little private time, upstairs, you know?" He said it as if he and Brass were frat brothers talking about last night's conquests. His face wore a leer that sickened Jim's stomach.
"We was - you know -"
"Yes. I think we all know. Continue."
"So anyway, we were in the bedroom when this asshole cop, Stokes? Yeah. Stokes. He comes into my home and threatens us with a gun. Poor Gina was scared to death. Poor thing was like naked and stuff," he said with another sickening lick of his lips. Jim wasn't sure if the turn on was her nudity or her fear.
"So I told Stokes he'd better leave us alone. I defended her, but you know, he's a cop and he's got a gun and I'm not dressed myself. So he makes me go downstairs and he tells me he's gonna kill me. I mean, I barely know who this guy is! He tells me he's my cousin's boyfriend but I haven't seen Mari in like forever so how am I supposed to know him? Gina? She gets scared, for me, you know, so she comes down the stairs and that fucking pig shot her! I ran to try to help her but he shot me first. Then my little cousin Alberto showed up and the next thing I know, Stokes is shooting him too. Probably cuz he saw him shoot us. Next thing I know, you and the deputy and the black guy are there and I'm at the hospital. And they tell me Gina is…dead."
Brass sat back amused by the drama of his own that Orozco had cooked up. The asshole was a good actor, he'd give him that. No wonder his old man was probably liquidating his fortune to pay for his son's defense. The scumbag had even managed to get a tear to roll down his cheek.
"Alright, Orozco. You can stop the crocodile tears."
Ramón looked sideways at him, apparently not understanding the reference. He turned and whispered something in Spanish to his attorney. At her reply Ramón whipped back to glare at Jim. "You calling me a liar? You saying I'm faking?" He started to rise from his chair but the stone-faced deputy stepped forward, the threat along with his attorney's hand returning to his shoulder stopping his action. He shook the hand off of him again and sat back down, a disgusted look on his face. He tried again for cool nonchalance, and elaborately examined the manicure on his left hand.
"Don't matter if you cover for your cop friend here, pig. My attorney's gonna bankrupt this city. Your paycheck will come to me every month."
Jim chuckled and looked at his co-workers. "If you only knew, Orozco." Vega gave a smile in return. Grissom remained silent where he stood, manila folder still closed up in his crossed arms. Jim recognized the expression on the criminalist's face. He had a new bug to study.
"That's a really good story, Orozco," Jim said, returning to his manila folder. "Well plotted. Lots of action. Tragic ending though, huh? Yeah. I have a story of my own I'd like to tell. If you will allow me…?"
The drug dealer just snorted and looked away in disdain.
"Whoa. Tough house. So here's how I see things happening. You killed Mari Pacheco. An employee of the Las Vegas Police Department entered your home in order to detain you for the same. CSI Stokes was carrying a department issued weapon. A 9mm Glock. Standard for all officers. And it was a 9mm found at the scene that caused your arm wound."
Ramón sat up straighter and gave a smug smile, as if already vindicated. He apparently had missed the part about killing Mari Pacheco.
"Your girlfriend, who you have only been able to identify as Gina…very close were you? Yeah. So your girlfriend entered the room carrying a Colt. 45 caliber. Big flashy gun, that. It was Gina who shot Alberto Pacheco. CSI Stokes then shot Gina in order to defend the life of the boy and himself. You picked up the fallen weapon and attempted to shoot CSI Stokes who again, in self-defense, shot you. Stokes then administered first aid, which saved your miserable excuse for a life, and then in turn administered aid to the boy. He had already followed procedure by calling in for local support backup. It was the arrival of this support, in conjunction with Stokes's assistance that has you still here today, no matter how disappointing that is to many."
He had glossed over a bit for the sake of expediency and of course, protection of Nick and the department, but Grissom had assured him it was all correct, and well supported by the evidence the two day shift CSIs had found.
Ramón for his part had sat slack-jawed as if in complete shock that his well-fabricated story had been destroyed so easily. "Man, that's bullshit! You cops are …are…manufacturing evidence against me!" The unfamiliar terms tumbled awkwardly from his lips. It was obvious that he had picked up some helpful terminology from his attorney or his cellmates in lock up.
Grissom stepped forward, his time in the spotlight upon him. "On the contrary, Mr. Orozco. The evidence was all there for us to find. You will find it all well documented. Captured on film and on paper. The caliber of every weapon present and used. The blood stains present. The fingerprints. Well, see for yourself…"
The criminalist laid the manila folder open for Orozco to glance at, knowing full well the man would have no way of understanding what he was looking at.
"As far as the incident in your home, the gunshot residue found on the female decedent was that from the use of a Colt .45. Her prints are also on the grip and the trigger. Your prints are on it as well."
"'Course they are! It's my gun! I run a warehouse in a bad part of town, I have the gun for protection."
"Ahh," Grissom said, a professorial finger upraised. "But your prints are on top of hers. You held the gun after she used it to shoot Alberto Pacheco."
Ramón sat back in his seat, temporarily silenced. Brass smiled and sat back as well. Wished he had a bucket of popcorn for the rest.
"As for the initial reason for the presence of CSI Stokes," Grissom continued, "there were outstanding warrants for your arrest for possession of heroin with intent to sell, drug trafficking, the attempted murder of CSI Stokes, and the murder of Mari Pacheco."
"I didn't kill that bitch! I told you, haven't seen her in a long time," Ramón shouted. "Fucking puta thought she was too good for me," he continued in a sullen mumble.
Grissom waited for the rant to end, then calmly returned to his folder. He took a packet of photographs out and placed them on the table. They were the same pictures of Mari Pacheco's corpse that they had shown to the father.
"You see these bruises, Mr. Orozoco? They are very unusual. Made by an unusual object. Not just unusual. Unique, much like a fingerprint or a snowflake. They were caused by the wearer of this object."
He pulled a small plastic baggie out of the folder and placed it on the table on top of the pictures. It was a silver and turquoise ring.
Ramón stared at the ring, his mind obviously working to remember when he had lost it. "Never saw it before," he said with badly feigned indifference.
"Oh really?" Grissom asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Because we were pretty sure it was yours. There's an inscription inside. Would you care to have me read it? No? Doesn't matter. See we can prove that this ring is yours."
The next article he pulled from the folder was the piece de resistance. The final part to the completion of the puzzle that began when a homeless drunk stumbled across the body of Mari Pacheco.
When Galloway had handed it to him after completing the processing of Orozco's home Gil had only a sad smile in response. Nick's last words before his illness had taken him away from them had been in reference to this item. In Alberto's abandoned car, found back down on the main road, was a shoebox filled with old pictures. This was among them.
He placed the picture in front of the man who murdered Mari Pacheco and caused such serious harm to his friend and co-worker. It was the picture of Ramón and Carlos Orozco. Both men glared at the camera, Ramón's icy grin flashing yellowed teeth. His arm, flung over his father's shoulder. And the ring, in perfect crystal clear focus on his hand.
"You see, this ring is not just unusual. It's one of a kind. Your father had it made for you a few years back. Right after you got out of your last stint in prison. You told your father you were going straight. No more drug dealing. He set you up in that home. Gave you that job at the warehouse. But evidently, it wasn't enough for you."
Grissom picked up the ring and photos and returned them back to the folder. He closed it back up without another word and stepped back into the shadows at the back of the interrogation room.
Brass took his part back up and turned his attention to the attorney who had sat quietly next to her client during the entire session. Her face was grim, lips set together. She was a smart woman. She knew a slam-dunk case when she heard one.
"We also have your computer, which contains all your heroin dealing transactions. We rolled your two amigos from the warehouse. They told us Mari and Stokes found out about your little side business and you killed her for it, and tried to kill Stokes as well. That makes her death a capital offense, Orozco. The murder of a witness to a felony means you get the needle."
Ramón exploded in anger. "You piece of shit! I'll - let go of me, bitch!" he yelled, whipping around to address his attorney who had once again tried to rein him in with a touch on his arm.
"Ramón," she said sternly, "listen to me." She bent her head to talk to Ramón, whispering in his ear. He sat back in disgust but was quiet.
"What are you offering, Captain?" she asked.
"Where is Rey Pacheco? Or rather, where is his body?"
Ramón made a sucking noise with his teeth. "Dunno," he muttered.
"We found his Lexus along with Stokes's truck in your garage, Orozoco. Pretty stupid move. Or couldn't you part with the spoils of your crimes? A man like you, all your daddy's money at your disposal, and you covet a 2004 Lexus and a Tahoe." Brass shook his head in mock bewilderment. "You're like a kid who wants the neighbor kids' toys, Ramón. Never happy enough with what daddy buys you."
Ramón glowered at Brass but didn't reply.
"Tell me where Rey Pacheco's body is and I'll talk to the DA. 'Sup to you. I'd just as soon see you on the table."
His attorney grabbed Orozco's attention again, flinching at the glare he shot her. She whispered some more in his ear, his body language showing his anger at her words.
He jerked back away from her. "No way! Uh uh. I don't want this stupid cow anymore. I want a new lawyer. I demand a new lawyer!"
Brass smiled. She was definitely a smart woman. "Sounds like your attorney has some good advice for you, Ramón. But if you want to change counsel, that is your prerogative." He sighed. "Daddy's money isn't gonna get you out of this one, Ramón." He turned to the uniformed officer and gestured with his head. "Get this piece of crap out of my room."
The officer grabbed Ramón by his good arm, his prisoner pulling and screaming as he left, still demanding a new lawyer.
"Ms. Diaz?" Brass asked with an extended hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I escort you out?"
She returned his smile with a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Brass guessed she hadn't been too pleased to be representing Orozco and was just as glad she'd been dismissed.
"No, thank you, Captain. I know my way out."
After her exit the three remaining men gathered at the doorway.
Their smiles were now gone, the object of their conversation changing to more somber subjects.
Vega was the first to speak up. "How's Nick doing?" he asked Grissom.
Gil sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "About the same, Sam. About the same. And I'm afraid that if…when Nick returns, he'll have a whole other battle to fight."
Sam looked at Brass. Brass looked at Sam. Grissom saw the two exchange glances loaded with unspoken content. " What?"
Sam gave a small smile. "I hope you don't mind, but we kinda already took care of things."
Grissom raised his eyebrows at the unexpected revelation. "What do you mean, you took care of things?" he asked slowly.
"Well, we kinda told the powers that be that Nick was contemplating a lawsuit against the city from when that asshole Callahan beat on him in the park. We got them to drop the inquiry into Nick's, shall we say, involvement? In the incident at Orozco's. I mean, there were active warrants out for this guy, and Nick did radio it in. Sorta. The shoot was good. Clean, I mean. And they were so pleased to get this guy off the streets that they were willing to wipe the slate clean. Nick's slate."
Grissom shook his head in amazement. He really shouldn't have been that surprised. Nick was well liked amongst his fellow cops. It made sense that they would go to such lengths for him. Hadn't they all?