The Las Vegas Repertory Shakespeare Company is pleased to announce its 2003 - 2004 season...
Too general. She backed out of that article and then thought better of it, clicking forward again and printing it out to put in the casefile as a general reference article. Even if Grissom probably knew all there was to know about the company, none of the other CSIs had his in-depth knowledge of it.
Her eyes caught the title "Casting of Much Ado About Nothing reveals bright young star" from the Las Vegas Herald Sun, dated just a week ago - opening night. Skimming the article, she read phrases like "astonishingly emotive," "charmingly innocent" among other things. In fact, the review barely mentioned the other actors. It was focused on Bianca, and her breakout performance. The picture included had been taken of a scene Sara hadn't seen; Bianca as Hero, in a white wedding dress, was clasping the hands of Scott Loring as Claudio, while the friar gazed indulgently from the background. Bianca's dark looks and Scott's chiseled pale ones were a striking contrast. They made for a beautiful couple.
Sara knew better than to think she could read anything into the picture other than the emotions of that particular moment in the play, but she found herself wondering if Bianca and Scott had been sleeping together.
They certainly had no lack of motive. Someone as successful as Bianca, right out of college - she was barely twenty-three - and with a fiancé who would call so obsessively suggested any number of traditional scenarios for revenge-based homicide.
Another hour of research, and Sara had found and printed several articles from the UNLV campus newspaper describing Bianca's career there; she was Phaedra, Antigone, Juliet. Apparently she had a penchant for the classical roles, though there were a few scattered reviews of musicals in which she had, once again, held a lead role. She'd graduated in 2003 with a theater major - natch - and a minor in classical studies. Now that she thought about it, Sara could remember seeing a few books in Latin and Greek on the shelves in the living room. That had been Warrick's search area, though, and she trusted his abilities as a CSI to have remarked upon anything salient about the books.
Satisfied that she at least had enough for a rough character sketch, Sara frowned down at her cold coffee. She'd gotten so caught up in the search that she hadn't taken more than a sip or two. With a grimace, she tossed back a gulp and shut down the computer.
Background check done, she wandered down to the evidence lockers. During the day, the crime labs were bustling with people, easily two to three times as many as were there on the average night. But it still felt empty. It was a fanciful thought, that the labs would feel empty without Grissom and the other members of the night shift team, but Sara found herself thinking it anyway.
Taking a seat in the caged-in room, she began once again to sort through the contents of Bianca's dressing room table. Once again, she found nothing especially probative. Idly, she flipped through the volume of Shakespeare's comedies, wondering if she'd marked anything in her copy of Much Ado About Nothing. The binding cracked open, but to the pages for A Midsummer Night's Dream.
A small card fell out - the type of sentiment card that would accompany flowers. It looked very similar to the waterlogged card they'd found in Bianca's trash, actually, only that one had been edged in faint roses; this one had a blue and gold ribbon scrolling around the outside and a woman in a Renaissance dress looking over her shoulder with a slight smile in the upper left hand corner. The drawing was tiny - Sara could have covered it with her thumb - but it was incredibly detailed, and charming.
To the naked eye, the cards were of the same type of paper, and the same size. The same florist, perhaps? The handwriting was certainly different, and this card didn't have a Biblical quotation on it. "To my Hippolyta," it read, "How shall we beguile the lazy time, if not with some delight?"
Hippolyta had been Bianca's role before Hero. Was her fiancé a Shakespeare enthusiast as well? Or had this been sent by someone else entirely?
She bagged the card to send to Ronnie, resolving to deliver it personally as soon as shift started and to wait in the QD lab until the tech had finished not only this new card but the card from the trash as well. Depending on how long the card had been in the book, they would need to dust it for prints. The way this case was going so far, they'd probably have a new suspect once they pulled the prints.
Once more, the contents of Bianca's purse proved unenlightening, but Sara took the time to note down all her credit card numbers for tracing. If Ronnie was still balking on the QD evidence, she could apply herself to the paper trail more later tonight. She also noted the name and address of the coffee shop; the frequent buyer card seemed to be earning its mileage. There was a purchase almost every day, and occasionally two purchases in one day. If she was that frequent a visitor, perhaps the staff at the shop would know someone with motive.
No cell phone or pager, and there hadn't been a computer in the apartment. In fact, the stereo there had been only one or two steps away from the dumpster. Was she on a strict budget - entirely understandable with probable student loans and the less than spectacular pay of a new company member - or simply not very interested in electronics? More research would be able to lead them in the correct direction.
She set the purse aside and once again opened the jewelry box, twirling the masks of comedy and tragedy around on their chain. No inscription, no jeweler's mark, nothing to help them discover more about their significance in Bianca's life. Sara made a mental note to ask Grissom about the archetypes of comedy and tragedy, certain he would be able to give her a more than complete historiographical overview of the subject. The best she could do was her knowledge that they were symbols of theater.
The engagement ring was exactly as it had looked in the dressing room: a solitary diamond, set on a gold band. Classic and simple. Since they knew who her fiancé was and would be speaking to him soon, there was no sense in trying to track the ring itself. The task would have been tedious at best with a ring as common as this one. Any jewelry shop in Vegas would sell a ring exactly like it.
Sara replaced the ring and set the entire box of evidence to the side, drumming her fingers restlessly. If she kept pushing this case, especially in the absence of all the expected evidence from today's interviews and other activities, she would go stale on it. The decision was made in a split second - she would grab some coffee and then work her other cases until night shift began and she could once again move forward with the evidence processing. She had the overtime authorized, and she saw no reason not to take full advantage of it.
"Excuse me, miss, but I'm looking for Bianca Tolmen's room," Warrick asked the nurse at the desk in the Intensive Care Unit.
"Are you family?" was her pointed response.
He dug out his badge, restraining himself from muttering under his breath. If the sheriff had been so concerned about getting to the hospital, he could have at least had the courage to pave the way with a few words about how a CSI was expected at the hospital. "I'm with the Crime Lab."
"Oh." The nurse's expression changed only marginally. "Room 242."
"Thank you," Warrick said, snapping his badge shut. "Down here?"
"End of the hall, take a right." The phone rang, and she jerked her chin in the direction he had pointed and then reached for the receiver. "Excuse me."
He waved his hand slightly, indicating it was fine, and headed down the hallway, his sneakers squeaking on the sterile tiles. At the end of the hall was room 240, and when he rounded to the right, 242 was the first room on the right.
The door was ever so slightly ajar, and he fisted his hand briefly before knocking, bowing his head. No matter how many times he made hospital visits for a case, they never got any easier.
The room was silent except for the whirrs and hums and clicks of the life support equipment. Even under the medical tape and the tubing, Warrick recognized Bianca's face instantly, her dusky skin pale and dark hair spread out against the white pillow. Her chest was rising and falling rhythmically - too rhythmically. Human beings did not normally breathe in a perfect twenty times a minute, nor were their breaths accompanied by the hiss of a ventilator.
As he got closer, he noticed the body slumped over on the opposite side of Bianca's. Warrick cleared his throat discreetly, and the young man jumped up, startled.
His resemblance to Bianca was eerie, with the same wide dark eyes, accentuated cheekbones, and dusky skin. Under normal circumstances, he would have been good-looking, but it was obvious he hadn't been in normal circumstances for some time now. His eyes were bloodshot, hair unkempt, and tracked along the right side of his face was an angry red mark - he'd fallen asleep on a fold in the sheet and blood was only just now returning to the area.
"Mr. Tolmen?" Warrick asked, walking forward a few steps. "I'm Warrick Brown, with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I was asked to be here..." He couldn't finish the sentence. Grissom would have been able to, but faced with the grief in front of him, Warrick left the words unsaid.
"Oh. Yeah, they said you would be coming by." He ran his hand through dark hair and tufts of it stood up spikily. "Sam, by the way. No one called me Samuel but my grandmother."
"Well, I'm definitely not your grandmother," Warrick said, trying to lighten the mood as he came forward to take a seat on the other side of the bed.
"No. No, you're not." Sam offered him a wan smile before his expression darkened yet. "Did you get him yet?"
"We're still investigating all possible angles," the CSI answered cautiously.
"What do you need to investigate?" Sam's hand fisted convulsively in the white sheet, and he looked down, as if surprised at his own violence, and smoothed the sheet out carefully. "He did this."
"You're going to have to explain who 'he' is," Warrick asked.
"Carter. Carter James. The bastard. I always knew he had a screw or two loose, but this..." His waved hand took in Bianca's body.
"You mean her fiancé?" Warrick asked. "What would make you suspect him?"
"He used to be okay. We were close in college, but when his mother died, he...got religion. And not in a good way. Bianca and I, we've always been religious, but Carter...he started to really go overboard. We graduated pretty soon afterward, and I got the job in Reno. I didn't hear anything more about it until Bianca called me a few days ago, she said he was really losing his mind, that he didn't want her to act anymore because it was a sin, and on and on. I was going to come out this weekend anyway, but..." His voice broke and he buried his face in his hands, silent sobs shaking him.
Warrick stared down at his clasped hands, thoughts churning. If Carter had reacted that badly to Bianca's choice of profession, what would he have done if he had found out about her affairs? And if it was his voice on the answering machine, then they had evidence that he had been in an agitated state of mind the night Bianca had died. Yet another suspect for the list.
"And I'm still waiting for him," Sam whispered with something like wonder.
"Excuse me?" Warrick asked, looking up in confusion.
"Carter. He didn't deserve her, but she loved him. She would've...she would've wanted him here. So I called him and told him that he had until five."
As discreetly as possible, Warrick checked his watch. Quarter to. "He wasn't home?"
"No. I left a message." Sam slid his fingers through Bianca's. "Fifteen minutes, now. He's not coming."
Warrick had no idea what to say, so he stayed silent for another five minutes before standing. "I'll be just outside." He hesitated. "We may need you later to...sign some forms and give some testimony. Here's my card." He passed the small business card over, and realized that someone would have to tell him that Bianca's apartment was now a crime scene, so he wouldn't be able to stay there that night. He decided that would have to wait for later; for now, he could leave Sam with his sister.
As he was exiting, the doctor entered the room, and Warrick bowed his head briefly, rubbing a hand over his face. It would be peaceful, at least. The seizures had cut the oxygen off to Bianca's brain long enough to disable all but the most basic functions - heartbeat and shallow breathing. Without the support of the ventilator, and the constant attention of the EKG, she would simply slide from her coma into death in a matter of minutes.
And their case would go from attempted murder to murder.