Chapter Seven
Grissom and Brass stood on the porticosupported byclassical Corinthian-style pillars. Mr. Montgomery's house was even more grand than that of Mr. Cape. The butler answered the door.
"May I help you, sirs?" he asked, his voice a monotone, revealing nothing.
Flashing his ID, Brass started, "I'mDetective Jim Brass, LVPD, and this is Gil Grissom from the crime lab. Is Mr. Montgomery available? We have a few questions for him."
The butler looked the two men for a couple seconds, before deciding that they were, in fact, legitimate.
"May I ask what this is in reference to?"
"Tell Mr. Montgomery the questions pertain to his wife," Brass stated, trying to keep his patience with the hired help.
The butler seemed as if he wanted to challenge that, but seeing the look on Brass' face changed his mind.
"You may come in and wait. I'll go find Mr. Montgomery for you." With that, the butler disappeared behind a grand spiral staircase in the entrance hall of the house.
After the butler left, Brass addressed Grissom, who was looking around the entrance area, taking in everything, sights, smells, sounds.
"It appears our Mrs. Montgomery had expensive taste in men."
Grissom pondered that before stating, "I don't think this has much to do with money. Mr. Montgomery's place seems far more elegant than Mr. Cape's implying he has more money. An affair with Mr. Cape for money would be a step down."
Brass looked over at Grissom and nodded slightly, a somewhat confused expression on his face.
"Morning, gentlemen. What can I do for you?" A middle-aged man appeared at the top of the staircase, causing Grissom and Brass to look up as he made his entrance.
This time Grissom spoke up. "We're here on business concerning you're wife, Romy."
"I'm sorry I can't help you. Romy's not around at the moment."
"Do you have any idea where she might be?" Grissom continued, looking strait into Mr. Montgomery's eyes.
Mr. Montgomery faltered a second, confusion on his face as he continued his descent down the staircase.
"No, why? Is she in some kind of trouble or something? I swear she's never broken any laws or-"
"Actually, Mrs. Montgomery was found dead in the residence of a Mr. Julian Cape," cut Brass.
Mr. Montgomery brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his forehead in disbelief. His breathing became irregular as if someone had just knocked the wind out of him. Grissom saw all of this.
"Mr. Montgomery," Grissom started again, "your wife, she didn't come home last night."
Mr. Montgomery snapped his head up, looking at Grissom, the disbelief still in his eyes. He shook his head.
"No. Ah, she sometimes stayed at a friend's house overnight, if she went out drinking or something. I d-don't know a Mr. Cape, though. Did he, is he the one who hurt her?"
Grissom raised one eyebrow and addressed the question. "We're still investigating. If it's all right with you, Mr. Montgomery, we'd liked to around the place and get a sample of your shoe prints."
Mr. Montgomery looked at him in shock. "Am I under suspicion here? I didn't even know my wife was dead until you told me about it. Now you want to go looking around… the murder didn't take place here."
Brass and Grissom exchanged a look.
"It's just procedural, Mr. Montgomery, we need to find out about your wife, how she lived, and rule you out as a viable suspect."
"Fine. Help yourself." Mr. Montgomery waved them off, still holding his head in one hand.
Grissom started up the stairs while Brass stayed behind to keep an eye on Mr. Montgomery and ask him some more questions. The walkway at the top of the stairs went to the left and right with three rooms on each side. Grissom turned toward the right, walking past all the rooms, at first just glancing inside.
He stopped at the master bedroom and went inside. To the naked eye, the room was incredibly immaculate and sterile as if being preserved in a museum. The bed, hidden partially by a royal canopy, looked as though no one ever slept in it. A large, full-length mirror hung on the wall opposite from the bed. On the wall opposite from the bay windows leading out onto a balcony was a beautifully ornate dressing table with mirrors, hair and make-up brushes all lined up neatly awaiting use.
Grissom walked over to the dressing table, his proximity reflected in the three mirrors set against the wall. He spent a moment looking over all of the objects.
He then moved on to the closets, two walk-in closets, one on each side of the bed. Like the bedroom, everything in the closets seemed to remain untouched with the complete absence of dust or spider webs. Mrs. Montgomery's clothes were all very elegant and gave only the impression that the wearer had money, lots of money. Mr. Montgomery's clothes reeked of wealth as well.
After gathering shoe prints from Mr. Montgomery's shoes and checking for anything else that may prove to be useful, Grissom moved on to the fabulously pristine bathroom. He looked into the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. Looking through the medications and small toiletries, he found an anti-depression medication prescription for Mr. Montgomery.
Grissom then moved on to remaining rooms on the upper level including two guestrooms, a guest bath, and an office making note of the things he saw.
When he was done searching the house, Grissom met Brass and Mr. Montgomery back in the entryway.
"Mr. Montgomery, you are diagnosed with depression," Grissom stated, rather than asked.
Mr. Montgomery was a little taken aback, but answered, "I'm a workaholic and sometimes fall into some bad times. I have medication for it."
Grissom nodded, making a mental note.
"Just one final thing. I have to get prints from the shoes you have on as well."
Grissom laid down some print paper and inked the bottom of each one of Mr. Montgomery's shoes, asking him to step down on the paper to make the print.
"I guess this means I'll be alone this Christmas," Mr. Montgomery sad sadly. Grissom looked up at the man; something in his cheek twitched. He looked down again to clean up his kit.
Having finished their investigation with the husband, Grissom and Brass left the house.
Outside, Grissom and Brass got into the Tahoe.
"What d'ya think?" Brass asked as way of conversation, yet remaining on the task at hand.
"So farthe only thing they have in common besides moneyand Romy Montgomery is aprescription for depression. I'll have to see what Warrick and Greg found out."
He drove to the end of the driveway, stopping for a passing car.
Grissom glanced outside his driver-side window, doing a double take when something caught his eye. Seeing the trash set out on the street, he got an idea.
Without telling Brass, Grissom got out of the Tahoe and grabbed his evidence kit. Brass looked over at him quizzically but did not say anything. Grissom carefully opened the lid of the garbage can. Through the plastic garbage bag Grissom could just make out some red stains. He immediately confiscated the trash and got back into the car.
"What was that about?"
Grissom looked sideways at Brass, turned back to concentrate on the road, and pulled out of the driveway.
"What's black and white and red all over?"
Brass shrugged, "Newspaper."
"A nice suit stained with blood."