Sara frowned slightly at the dual ends of trashbags underneath the microscope, shifting the right-hand one slightly and then smirking. "Positive association," she muttered. "Gotcha." It was a few seconds before she seemed to register the lab tech's presence, and then she looked up in surprise. "It isn't start of shift yet, is it?"
"No, it's still only eight. I heard a rumor we were authorized for extra overtime on this case." He was practically dancing from foot to foot in excitement with his news.
"You heard right. What have you got?" She swiveled on the stool to face him.
"Pick a sheet, any sheet," he said, fanning out several printouts.
"Greg," she said warningly, and he rolled his eyes at her.
"Spoil my fun. Okay. These two are the in-depth analyses on the sawdust residue. It's not the same type of wood."
"What?" Sara took the sheets from him and read them with a frown. "Glue residue?"
"Reclaimed," Greg clarified. "It's basically the odds and ends recycled and mixed in with glue. It's cheap but sturdy enough to hold up to some wear and tear. You can use it for all sorts of things, but," and he held up a finger and grinned charmingly, "I made some calls. The biggest lumberyard in town says they sell a ton of the stuff, and guess who their main customer is?"
"Las Vegas Reperetory Theater?" Sara hazarded.
"Bingo."
"Greg, this is the sample from the theater. All it proves is that someone who was around while the set was being built was in Bianca's dressing room the day she was poisoned."
"Oh." He seemed to deflate.
"It's still good work, though. We can use it to narrow the field of suspects." She smiled encouragingly at him and flipped to the next sheet. "?."
"Yeah," Greg said, picking up again. "That's a little bit more specific. You probably have to order it. The analysis hadn't finished by the time I called the lumberyard, so I couldn't check with them." He shrugged in apology. "But once you find someone using this particular type of wood, you've got them nailed. Um, no pun intended. He flashed a not-so-sheepish grin. "Also," he continued, holding out four more pieces of paper. "DNA analysis of the bedsheets."
She scanned the information. "One vaginal donor, that's expected. As soon as we get a sample to match we'll be able to eliminate it. And three different sperm donors - we only know of two lovers." She reshuffled the papers and smiled up at him. "You've been busy."
He shrugged and tried to be humble for a full three seconds. "Yeah, well, important case. The sherriff called?"
"Yeah. Woke us up. Grissom's down at the theater doing interviews." She caught his wince at the word "us" out of the corner of her eye and hid her smile. "No idea why, though." A line on the semen analysis printouts caught her eye. "The newest stain had only occured once?"
Greg nodded. "It's only two, maybe three days old."
"That probably eliminates the fiancé," Sara observed. "So she found a new lover?"
"Looks like." Greg edged toward the doorway. "I'm going to run the confirmation on the folic acid pills you found, and then try to match the bloodstains on the blanket Nick found to the vaginal DNA. He said she probably hit her head while she was seizing."
"It happens." Sara looked up from the papers briefly. "Thanks, Greg. This is a big help."
He grinned openly. "For you? Anytime."
"Scott Loring," Erin read from her notes. "Twenty-seven, lives with his sister. He joined the company nine years ago. No college education, Las Vegas native. Not even a parking ticket on his record."
"There's always a first," Nick said, and hated himself for thinking that, let alone saying it out loud.
"Yeah," the detective replied sourly as Scott was shown in.
Scott Loring had a slim, boyish figure, with fine features and thick lashes around light brown eyes. His chesnut hair was slightly wavy and kept on the long side, brushing the tips of his ears. He projected an air of naïveté and innocence that Nick knew from experience was hard to counterfeit - but there was a first time for everything.
"Hey," he said, smiling nervously as he sat down carefully on the spindly metal chair. He looked around with wide eyes and the slightest hint of a blush tinged his cheeks - as if he were seeing the women's dressing room for the first time. "They said you wanted to talk to me?"
"Just a few quick questions," Nick reassured him, leaning his forearms forward onto his knees. "I'm Nick Stokes, with the crime lab, and this is Detective Erin Conroy, with the police department."
The young actor nodded at them each in turn. "Sure. Okay. Ask away."
"What was your relationship with Bianca Tolmen?" Erin began.
"We were friends. Pretty close, I guess. She was new to the company, and I've been here for a while, so when she got here I showed her the ropes. Not that she needed much showing." He grinned in remembrance. "She landed Hippolyta right out of the gate, and she was the best Hero I've ever seen."
"Just friends?" Erin prodded.
The blush that had been threatening earlier crept up and turned Scott's cheeks a full blazing red. "Yes! She was engaged!"
Nick held out a comforting hand. "Hey, we have to ask, y'know?"
"Yeah. I guess. I just don't get why everyone has to assume that we were...that there was something going on, just because we were friends." He frowned, and Nick felt like he had kicked a puppy. Scott was twenty-seven years old and apparently he really was still that innocent.
"You went out to dinner with Ms. Tolmen the night she was poisoned," Erin continued, all business.
"Yeah. She'd mentioned something about it, the night before, so I gave her a call that afternoon and told her I was still interested. In dinner. It wasn't, um, anything more than that." He stopped, and took a breath. "She wasn't home, so I tried again later and finally called her cell phone and talked to her then."
"Why didn't you call her cell phone right away?" It probably wasn't at all germane to the investigation, but Nick felt he should ask anyway.
"I don't like calling people on their cell phones. I always feel like I'm interrupting them. It's stupid, I know, but..." Scott spread his hands. "I always try their home phone first."
"Hey, I understand," Nick said soothingly. "So what time did you go to dinner?"
"Four-thirty or so. We had to eat early; curtain call was at six. We got here at quarter to six, and after that we didn't see each other until our first scene. And before you ask, I was offstage when she fainted." He chewed his lip and looked away from them. "I was with her when...when she started going into seizures, though. I sat with her until the ambulance came to take her away. It was horrible."
"Can you think of anyone who may have wanted to harm Ms. Tolmen?" Erin jumped in.
"No. No one." Scott shook his head vehemently. "I don't understand why anyone would want to do that."
Erin sat back in her chair, arms crossed. "Okay. You can go."
"If there's anything else I can do to help, please let me know," the young actor said earnestly, holding out his hand to shake both of theirs. "Really."
"We'll keep you in mind," Nick reassured him. "Thanks."
The instant Scott had left and the door closed behind him, Nick turned to forestall what he knew would come out of Erin's mouth. "No way. Absolutely no way."
"He's an actor," Erin pointed out, and that had Nick fumbling for a few seconds.
"No. Some things you can't fake. That kid doesn't even have a clue as to why someone would commit murder."
"He's been performing Shakespeare for the past nine years," Erin snapped. "If he didn't understand what was going on in those plays, he wouldn't be as successful an actor as he is now."
"How many suspects do you want in this case?"
"Do you want any?"
They both stopped, aware that they were playing an only slightly more mature and professional game of "I know you are, but what am I?"
Nick was the first to break the uneasy silence. "We can't suspect him just because he's an actor. Most of the people that have been interviewed fit that description. He doesn't have a motive."
"True," Erin admitted.
He looked down at his watch. "Nine o'clock. Anyone left to interview?"
She checked her notes and then shook her head. "No. That's it. I'm going to go spend the rest of my night writing this up into reports."
"I'm going to grab something to eat." Nick hesitated, and then added, at his peril, "Want to come with?"
For a split second, he could have sworn she was considering it. But she shook her head. "Can't. Paperwork."
"See you around, then."