a/n: Thank you, Navaer and Mma63 for your kind words.
And special thanks to alwayswrite05 for the encouragement and thoughts.
Warning: Shameless begging ahead: All reviews are appreciated, like raindrops in the desert. Com'on ya'll, let a girl know you're there.
"Hey, Brass is here." Nick pulled the crime lab SUV into a parking space next to the Capitan's' Taurus in the Stardust parking lot. In the passenger seat, Sara looked out the window down into the car, and found Brass sitting in the driver's seat speaking in to his radio. He glanced up when the shadow of the truck passed over him, blocking the Nevada sun, and upon seeing the CSI's cracked a grin and spoke into the radio once more before hanging it up and climbing out of the Taurus. He held Sara's door open for her as she hopped out and onto the ground.
"I was just calling in to have ya'll sent out. Low and behold, here you are."
"We aim to please." Sara gave him a wide smile, and walked to the back of the truck where Nick had already opened the tailgate and was pulling out the equipment they would need. He lifted his chin in greeting as Sara and Brass joined him. "Whatcha got?"
"Susan Renwald…" Brass began.
"The finger prints I found on the bottle of water?" Sara interjected.
Brass pointed a finger at her, "That's the one. She's the make-up artist."
"Well" Nick said as he slipped the camera strap around his neck "let's go talk to her."
None of the three of them had expected to actually find anyone there, they had all quietly assumed the theatre would be empty, expect maybe for a lone janitor who hadn't known Carly; everyone else would be home mourning.
Mourning, everyone was, but they had migrated to the theatre, to surround themselves with the people they had all come to think of as family, to grieve the loss of one of their own Gathered on the stage; musicians, back up singers, lighting guys, two stylists, a markup artist, seamstress and even a PR rep, among others had formed a quasi circle, some in chairs, the rest, sitting directly on the stage, and when the detective and two criminalists broke though the curtains and stepped onto the semi dark stage, the quiet chatter ceased. The seamstress wiped the back of her hand against her eyes. Two of the musicians, more familiar with officers of the law than they would ever admit, straightened up in their chairs, Brass could fairly see the alarms going off in their brains, on high alert.
The bass player, Danny Dugan, hefted himself from the stage floor, and approached the trio, sticking his hand out and introducing himself as he did.
After the introductions had been completed, Danny glanced behind him at the group who seemed to be watching with baited breath. Nick followed Danny's gaze, studying the group of roughly twenty people, wondering if one of them was a murderer. As the bass player turned back, and began a conversation with Brass, offering any help possible, Nicks eyes flicked to each face in the improvised audience, alighting on each for a brief moment before landing on a familiar one, the girl who'd winked at him backstage the other night. If he had been able to choose the circumstances for their second encounter, investigating a murder and questioning her as a possible suspect would have been on the bottom of the list. Try as he might, he couldn't get the vision of her bending over, picking up Carly's discarded towel then winking at him, out of his head.
"CSI Stokes will need to see Carly's dressing room."
His name rang though his ears, bringing Nick out of his stupor; he turned back to his co-workers to find Brass looking at him expectantly, with a small knowing smile. "Sorry, what?"
Carly's death had interrupted any plans Catherine had had to relentlessly tease Nick about the encounter she'd witnessed, so Sara had no idea what he'd been staring at. Brass too didn't know the story, but knew exactly what had been going on in the younger man's mind. The captain raised his eyebrows, and his voice was full of humor when he said: "I was explaining to Mr. Dugan here that you would need to see Carly's dressing room. "
Nick cleared his throat, "Yeah, yes, I would."
Sara, still a little lost on the joke, interjected, "Brass and I'll stay here, talk to Susan."
Danny, confused, asked; "You don't want to talk to Barney?" His brow knitted in confusion.
Brass's expression mirrored Danny's, the puzzlement in his eyes as he traded glances with Sara.
"Who's Barney?" Sara asked, turning her gaze back to the musician.
"Barney Falade. He's the theatre manager." Brass took out his notebook, jotting down notes; Danny craned his neck, trying to get a look at what was being written.
"Why would you think we'd want to speak to Barney?" Brass asked looking up from the notebook, catching the bass player peeking.
"Well," Danny glanced away, toward the floor, embarrassed at being caught. "Barney and Tommy hated each other." Danny raised his head, meet Brass's eye. "Tommy raked Barney over the coals when it came to Carly's contract. Barney should have retired years ago, you know, Barney's brain isn't as sharp as it used to be, and Tommy took advantage of it during negotiations, then went around bragging 'bout how he milked the theatre for all it was worth."
"Why kill Carly not Tommy?"
Danny shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe 'casue Tommy ain't nothin' without Carly. Be more fun to watch the man squirm in obscurity than to just up and kill him. 'Sides…" he looked down at his feet again, and kicked some invisible dust. "with Carly the one being dead, he can get out of that contract, can't he?"
Sara and Brass traded glances, and with a twitch of her eyebrow, the captain knew they were thinking the same thing; he's got a point.
"Ok. We'll interview Mr. Falade, in the mean time; we need to talk to Susan."
"Susan?" Danny was confused again; it was a new name to him.
"Susan Renwald." Brass expanded.
"Yes?" A voice answered from the middle of the stage, the four of them turned at the sound. To Nick's chagrin, the raven haired beauty he couldn't get out of his mind stood up and approached the group. "I'm Susan."
Tommy Bryans stood in the lighting booth, at the back of the theatre, his arms crossed against his chest, he lifted his chin a little as he watched the goings on down on the stage. The booth door creaked, and he heard footsteps on the worn wood floor. She was behind him, beside him, her hand on his shoulder, and she too peered down at the stage. "Who are they? Cops?" Jill asked, her breath in his ear.
"The bald one is." Tommy considered the other man, and the woman, wearing black vests with white lettering. "The other two don't look like cops."
Down on the stage, Nick and Sara turned and followed Danny; Jill read the back of the Sara's vest. "Crime scene? Why would they be here?"
"Not sure." Tommy squinted trying to get a better look at the activities below.
"How'd you know that one is a cop?" Jill asked, fingering the back of Tommy's shirt collar.
He shrugged her off, irritated. "Because he's the one that drug me down to the station so he could accuse me of having affairs."
"Why'd you have to go down there to talk to the cops about Carly's accident?"
Tommy turned around to face her, the look on his face made her wonder if he thought she was stupid. Or lying.
After a moment's consideration, he shook his head and returned his gaze back to the stage.