The apartment complex manager was nowhere to be found, despite repeated knocking on his door and calls made to his cell phone on the way to the building, so Warrick shrugged and threw his weight behind popping the lock out of the door.
"Wait, wait," Vega told them, and edged his way into the apartment first, a procedural precaution that had both Sara and Warrick rolling their eyes in impatience. A few minutes later, he emerged and holstered his gun. "Clear."
Warrick gestured for Sara to precede him, and she reached back on her belt to retrieve her flashlight, flicking it on to illuminate the small apartment. Within a few seconds, she had located a light switch and flicked that on, replacing her flashlight.
Bianca Tolmen's living space was cozy and neat. The front door opened into a small living room and dining area space, with a table that seated four to the right of the door and a yard sale couch and small television and VCR on the left. Beyond the table, to the back right of the apartment, was a cupboard kitchen, to the left of which a door was slightly ajar. Sara pressed her fingertips against the wood and cracked it open a few more inches to reveal a cramped bedroom with two doors at the far left that probably led to a closet and bathroom.
"Your call," Sara told Warrick as he set his evidence kit down on the dining room table.
"I think I'll let you have the bedroom," he said. "I'll take the kitchen and outer area."
"Deal," she agreed, and opened the bedroom door the rest of the way, flicking the light on and setting her evidence kit down on the floor.
The bedroom was a contrast to the neatly arranged outer area; it was here that a bit more personality shone through. The sheets were rumpled, and the dresser was a jumble of framed photographs, makeup, perfume bottles, and odds and ends - a colored stone here, yet another ticket stub there, a silk scarf looped around a coin bank shaped like a red Crayola crayon, a porcelain unicorn with a chip from its golden horn, and a dish full of coins from other countries, a blown glass rose in a slim, clear flute of crystal, and a few scattered sheets of paper with half-crossed out to do lists on them.
It was clutter, but it was obviously well cared-for clutter. On the walls were reproductions of old movie posters - Casablanca, Kiss Me, Kate, and West Side Story. Over the bed was a framed lithograph, old and well-worn, of what Sara was pleased to recognize as the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet.
The photographs on the dresser were of Venice, with the man Grissom had identified as Carter, her fiancé, of Bianca and a young man who looked strikingly like her - a brother, possibly even a fraternal twin by his age. There were a few of Bianca at childhood dance recitals and theater productions, and one of Bianca between three young men; one of them her brother, one of them Carter, and one of them unidentified, a thin man with blond hair and thick glasses. The photograph had obviously been taken years ago, and as Sara squinted, she was pretty sure that the building in the background was on the UNLV campus.
When she had finished going over the objects on the top of the dresser, she knelt down, opening her evidence kit and setting up the ALS. She reached behind her, flicked off the lights, and slid red goggles on, scanning the sheets slowly. Food stain, food stain - semen. Several semen stains, in fact, some of them more recent than others. Turning the lights back on, Sara bagged the sheets. If Bianca had had more than one lover - and if one of them hadn't been her fiancé - then they might have a great deal more motive to work with.
The nightstand held a well-read copy of the King James Bible and a diary, locked. With a grin of satisfaction, she bagged it. They could pick the lock at the lab, and hopefully be able to identify suspects from Bianca's writings.
There was nothing under the bed but dust bunnies and a stray pair of nylons. The closet didn't reveal anything particularly interesting; Sara took a few minutes and printed all her shoes to match against the prints she'd lifted from the dressing room. The bathroom was similarly uneventful - or at least it was until she opened the medicine cabinet.
Aspirin, prescription migraine medicine, antacid tablets, evening primrose oil for menstrual problems - and prescription folic acid. She smiled grimly and shook the bottle; it was about half full. Dropping it into a bag, Sara entered it into evidence and finished up looking through the cabinets without finding anything else particularly outstanding.
"Hey," Warrick called from the bedroom doorway. "I've got an address book and an answering machine tape with some interesting stuff on it; we'll have Archie take a look when we get back to the lab. You?"
Sara held up the clear bag with the prescription bottle. "I think Bianca Tolmen was pregnant."
After Sara left, Grissom turned back to the easy chair and frowned in thought. On a hunch, he took out an ALS and killed the lights, covering every inch of the carpet. There were several greasy stains that were probably makeup residue, some soda and other liquid stains, but things got very interesting when he turned the glow to the chair.
Semen and vaginal fluid stains, fresh enough to date from Bianca's tenure in this room. Reaching for his evidence kit, Grissom pulled out a swab, uncapping it and wetting the end with distilled water to take samples from each stain in turn, carefully marking the boxes and entering them into evidence.
With that, he turned the lights back on and did one last visual sweep of the room. Nothing caught his eye, and he closed the door and made sure the crime scene tape was carefully in place before picking up his evidence kit and the paper bag with the swabs, navigating his way by trial and error to the stairwell that led up to the stage.
Immediately, he winced at the lights, and tried to make his way across the echoing wood floor as quickly as possible. It took a certain emotional courage to stand on stage and expose oneself in front of hundreds of people every day, and Grissom admired anyone who chose to do it for a living. He was well aware that it was something he could never do.
The audience seats were almost empty except for two men in coveralls being interviewed by officers, and Brass and Catherine both talking to stout older men Grissom recognized as the actors who had played the Friar and Senor Leonato respectively. Making his way down the stairs that led to the center aisle, he decided to listen in on Brass's interrogation.
"Where did you bring Ms. Tolmen?"
The Friar - Grissom looked over Brass's shoulder and saw him identified as Joe Mountebank - cast his eyes downward in remembrance. "Down to the green room. She started convulsing right before we got there, and we almost dropped her. It was if all her muscles just - exploded. For such a skinny thing, I had no idea she could have that much strength. It took everything Colin and I had to hang onto her long enough to get her down. Someone had set out a blanket, and we put her on that. Thank God someone called 911 right away."
"Could you describe the seizures, Mr. Mountebank?" Grissom asked, and Brass jumped slightly and gave the entomologist a frustrated look.
"They were horrible," Joe said with a shiver. "Her whole body arched - the only parts touching the ground were her heels and the back of her head. Col and I had to lean our full weight on her to get her to straighten out. Her arms were straight, stiff as a board, and her fists were clenched so hard the nails were digging in to the skin and there was blood everywhere. Someone thought that she might be epileptic, and tried to open up her mouth to make sure she didn't swallow her tongue, but her teeth wouldn't budge she had her jaw shut so hard. Her eyes were wide open, and they were bulging..." He broke off, and looked away, shuddering. "I've never seen anything like it."
"And between seizures?"
"Completely limp. Her skin was clammy and cold, but she was sweating. We tried to wrap her in the blanket, but just when we could get it around her she went into convulsions again." Joe ran his hand through thinning gray hair, and shook his head. "It happened maybe five, six times, and finally the last time, she didn't come out of it. Her skin started to turn blue, and we tried pounding on her chest to get air into her, but she just couldn't breathe. The EMTs came right then, and they took her away." He hung his head. "They told me that she's still alive?"
"Barely," Grissom said bluntly, and then thought better of it and decided not to tell the man that while the EMTs had been able to stop the seizures through intravenous injections of anticonvulsant drugs, they hadn't been in time. Her brain had gone without oxygen too long and was severely damaged. At this point, she existed only through a ventilator, and her heart had been so weakened by the violence of the repeated seizures there wasn't much hope she would hold on more than forty-eight hours.
"God," Joe whispered, and ran his hand through his hair again. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really need a drink."
Brass snorted. "I can understand completely, Mr. Mountebank. Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Bianca?"
He shrugged. "I barely knew her. We only had a few scenes together, so I wasn't here for all the rehearsals, and even the ones I was here for, I rarely stayed the whole time. I'm only working part-time now that my wife's retired. This season was going to be my last."
Brass nodded. "If you remember anything, here's my card. Feel free to call."
"I will," Mountebank promised.
"Just one last question, Mr. Mountebank," Grissom interrupted. "Were you aware that Bianca Tolmen had a fiancé?"
"I knew she wore an engagement ring, but I didn't ask her about it."
"Was she close to any of the male actors?"
"I'd say Rich, and Scott." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, that's Richard Ellory, who plays Benedick, and Scott Loring, who plays Claudio. I saw her a couple of times with other cast members, too. The younger ones - Bianca, Scott, and a few others, they used to go out for twenty-four hour breakfasts after late rehearsals. Scott would be the person to ask about that, but he had to go straight home. His sister's very ill, and lives with him."
Grissom watched the man for a moment, and decided to try his next question. "Would you be willing to give a DNA sample?"
"A what?" Joe was genuinely stunned. "Why?"
"To exclude you from our list of suspects," Grissom said, but didn't offer more than that.
Joe stared at him for a few seconds. "Sure, I guess. I mean, I didn't have anything to do with it, other than helping her offstage and sitting with her until the EMTs got there."
"Then this will serve to prove that," Grissom reassured him, and took out a swab. "Open your mouth." He scraped the inside of Joe's cheek. "Thank you."
"You're free to go," Brass told him, and the stout man nodded and stood to leave. "Scott Loring," he said out loud, writing the name down on the steno pad. "I've already got Richard Ellory tagged. We're going to keep the day shift beat cops plenty busy tracking down all the people who were involved with this."
"Make sure they get DNA samples, too."
"What was that all about?"
"Semen stains on the chair in Bianca Tolmen's dressing room indicate that she was...involved with someone in the cast. It could have been her fiancé, but it's better to cast the net wide to make sure." Grissom stood and brought his evidence kit over to where Catherine was interviewing the man who had played Senor Leonato, Colin Amberly.
He remembered Sara's voice reading the flyer with a smile. It had only been six hours ago at the most, but it already seemed like a lifetime away. He hadn't imagined then that he would ever actually need to remember that fact beyond the three hours of the play, and noted the occasion as one more proof of the time-honored "you never know" theory.
"She was a dear girl, a very dear girl. I can't imagine anyone holding a grudge against her," Colin was saying, shaking his head in sorrow. "No one was happier than I when she won the role. So much talent!"
"Ms. Calvert seemed to suggest that there were quite a few people who would be interested in having that role instead of her," Catherine posited.
"Josephine and Bianca were like oil and water," Colin said sourly. "Or, better to say, fire and ice. If you've already interviewed Josephine then you understand that analogy." Grissom frowned, but Catherine was nodding knowingly. "In that way, they were well suited for the roles they played. The jaded, older woman and the young girl in the throes of romantic love."
"I wouldn't say Beatrice was jaded," Grissom argued. "Cynical, perhaps, but I believe the eventual theme of the play was that even through that cynicism she found her own particular type of love and it was no less deep than Hero's."
"It's a point of debate, Mr..." Colin deliberately left the sentence hanging.
"Grissom," he filled in. "Gil Grissom. I'm also with the crime lab."
"Mr. Grissom. Josephine is an actress, and it isn't for naught that she's the first lady of the company. But she could never have brought Hero to life the way Bianca did."
"Artistic debates aside," Catherine interrupted, "are you saying there was trouble between Ms. Calvert and Ms. Tolmen?"
"Trouble is a relative term. Bianca disapproved of Josephine's...lifestyle choice, and to a certain extent, Josephine disapproved of Bianca's. They are - were - both high-spirited, passionate women." Colin smiled briefly. "With the stress of a theater production as large and well-known as this, small disagreements almost always become larger than they truly are, and in the end, it's better to let them out and put them in the past."
"You're going to have to explain that a little better," Brass said flatly. "Lifestyle choice?"
"Josephine's relationship with Jessica is common knowledge, and has been for years. Bianca is a devout Christian, and while she never said anything explicit, it was clear that on religious grounds, she disapproved of that relationship. As for the vice versa - Bianca did not always, shall we say, practice what she preached. I know of at least two affairs she was holding simultaneously with members of the cast - before you ask, no, I will not betray their confidences - and Josephine disapproved of that."
"And Ms. Tolmen's fiancé? What did he think of those affairs?"
Colin swiveled his head to look at Grissom. "You would have to ask him yourself, Mr. Grissom. As far as I know, Carter was not aware of them."
"Carter." Catherine pounced. "Do you know him?"
"Only by name," Colin said. "If you don't have any more questions, I've already stayed here far too long, and my wife will be worried."
"You're free to go, Mr. Amberly," Catherine said with a nod.
"Not just yet," Grissom interrupted. "May we take a DNA sample?"
Colin's eyes narrowed. "If you must."
Grissom swabbed the inside of his cheek. "Thank you. Now you're free to go."
When he had left, the two criminalists and the detective were left sitting in the seats, Brass and Grissom side by side and Catherine in the row in front, leaning against the backs of the chairs with her arms crossed.
"He was too ready to pin it on Calvert," Catherine said first, breaking the thoughtful silence.
"And he was hiding something else," Grissom added, studying the swab box with Colin Amberly's DNA inside. "He may have just given us the key to what it was."