The man squinted into the sun. "It looks like rain."
Benny and Ryan exchanged glances. "Could you please answer the question, Mr. Barr?" Asked Ryan impatiently. They stood beside a large, white tent on the beach, supported by four stakes maneuvered into the sand, with one side open to the street, and the other three covered by canvas siding. The side opposite the street had a single rectangular hole, six feet by four, opening onto the beach, upon which the tent sat. Behind the tent, on the beach, was a forty square-foot enclosure, two feet below sea level, and contained by stone blocks. Under the tent was a hardwood dance floor, flanked by small, round tables, with a bar at one end. A beach club.
Alessandro Barr looked evenly at the two CSI's, and replied in a deep voice, slightly punctuated by a faint South American accent. "I don't think we've had any mischief around here, but we've been very busy getting the place ready. Spring break, you know. I'm going to make a fortune off of those kids."
"Do you recognize either of these people?" Asked Ben as she showed him the rap sheets of both Marcy and Keith Gordon. She was sure to keep both eyes on the Barr's expression, to detect if he was lying as he responded.
"Yeah, this lady." He said as he indicated Marcy's picture. "She comes in, maybe once, twice a month for the past year or so. Figured she was just a cougar, or something."
"And why's that?" Inquired Ryan as he raised an eyebrow.
"Well, some clubs are for people in their late thirties, forties. Some clubs are for people in their fifties and plus. Place like this," He pointed a thumb towards the white tent. "You know it's for thirty and under. You just know. So to see a woman her age—what, thirty-eight, thirty-nine? You just kinda figure she's scoping the cabaña boys. And mostly I don't mind so long as they pay cover and buy lots of drinks. Which they do."
Benny nodded. "And when's the last time you saw her?"
"Well, let's see…it was the night we had DJ Moxx. Would have been," he consulted some papers on the clipboard he held. "December fourth."
"So she comes in twice a month for almost a year, then doesn't show up for two months?" Ryan shot Benny a look. Score. "You wouldn't happen to have surveillance, would you?" Worth a shot.
Barr shook his head apologetically. "Costs enough to post guards around the perimeter to make sure we don't get cheapies sneaking in. Sorry."
"Alright, well, if you remember anything, just give us a call." Said Ryan as he handed him a card with the Lab's number.
"Oh, and Mr. Barr?" Called Benny as they walked away. "You know the sparkles you put in the sand in that enclosure out back?"
He nodded his acknowledgement.
"You know who else has them?"
He seemed confused for a moment. Then he slowly responded: "Nobody, is who. I have 'em custom made by this little store in Brazil." He laughed heartily. "Gotta support the hometown, right? But, yeah, they know it's my gimmick—you gotta have a gimmick in this business—so they don't make 'em for nobody but me."
Benny grinned. "Thanks a lot, Mr. Barr."
> > > > >
Ryan laughed as they got into Benny's Hummer. "You're something else, Benjamin, you know that?"
She looked over and smiled at him as she pulled on her seatbelt and put the keys in the ignition. "And why's that?"
He shrugged noncommittally. "You're just so full of…" He drifted off, not knowing how to describe her. Everything that's right about the world?
"You should be careful how you end that sentence." Teased Benny, pulling out of the parking lot.
Ryan laughed. "I was going to say that you're full of life, unless you had other ideas."
Benny looked at him curiously. Full of life? "Easy compliment to pay, when you spend so much time with corpses. Nonetheless, thanks." Her smile was genuine as she searched his eyes for any hidden meaning. She found none. Is he actually being upfront for the first time?
There was a long silence, stretching on for nearly half an hour, broken only by the sound of passing midday traffic.
Ben snuck a look over at her passenger, to see him leaning his head against the window, his eyes closed as he massaged his right temple. The expression of pain was clear.
"Ryan, what's wrong?" Now she was seriously concerned.
He opened his eyes slowly, showing an obvious sensitivity to light, and turned his head towards her. "Nothing. Just a headache. I took some Tylenol about…" He checked his watch, squinting to read the face. Failing that, he estimated. "Maybe two hours ago."
"Your eye?" The worry in her voice was completely apparent. This is more serious than I realized.
He nodded silently, obviously in tremendous pain. "Do you think you could drop me at the hospital? I'll catch up with you later; I just want to get a checkup."
Alarms went off in Ben's head. Ryan was inherently afraid of hospitals; to ask to go to one indicated extreme suffering on his part. Oh, man. This is bad. She heard him whimpering almost inaudibly, and turned her head to see him shaking in pain. She knew what was coming when he doubled over, his body contracting. Vomit immediately spewed from him, all over the dashboard, and covering his lap with putrid bile.
"Oh, man. OK, Ryan, we're going to the ER." She said calmly as she turned on the siren and rotating lights on her car. Reaching over to grab his hand, she felt pure sympathy for her colleague-turned boyfriend-turned hated ex-turned current love interest. "Don't worry, hun, it's going to be OK."
He couldn't even nod, so strong was the pain. His only response was a tight squeeze of her hand, which he didn't let go for the remainder of the trip to the hospital.