After taking a few hours' nap in the afternoon, Brass stopped by the hospital on his way to work. "Lenny" had woken up from the sedated sleep but greeted him brightly.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked.
"Business. I've got questions, if you're up to it."
"Surely it's not your jurisdiction," she smiled. "I'm guilty of herpeticide, not homicide. Would that be the ASPCA? Say, perhaps there's some dispensation for protecting you — it was poised to strike a second time..."
"I'll put in a good word for you. Serpent suspect was killed in the commission of a felony – attempted murder of a law enforcement officer." He winked at her to establish rapport before continuing with his business. "No, I'm here with regards to you being a homicide witness."
"OK. But I don't know how I can help you," she replied dubiously.
"How about starting with spelling your full name, Lenny," he said gently.
"Sure. L-e-i-n-n-e-y. M-o-o-r-l-y-n."
"Leinney? That's unusual," he commented.
"Oh, sorry. You asked my full name. It's actually Madeleine. M-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e. But I've been Leinney since...before I could write my own name..." she drifted away, reminiscing.
"Thanks. So tell me about this morning."
"I just found her body — right before you got there."
"How long before?"
"I dunno." Her forehead wrinkled. "Minutes? The sun wasn't yet up over the mountain, but it was pretty light out. The sun didn't shine on you until after he arrived."
"Grissom?"
A jolt of recognition crossed her face. "Who?"
"Dr. Grissom. He's the crime scene investigator who followed me there."
Her eyes narrowed. "I've heard that name before..." she muttered.
"Gil Grissom?"
"Yeah. But where?" She rubbed her forehead vigorously.
"Probably in some research journal. He's written for a lot of scientific journals."
"Perhaps." She shook her head. "I can't seem to remember much. I have such a headache."
"Maybe you should rest, then. I'll return again tomorrow." Brass felt more tender than usual towards this woman; he wasn't inclined to badger her with questions as he would normally. She had saved his life, though. Perhaps that was why his heart melted with concern. He decided to return to the office and look up the rest of the information on this woman via the computers.
When he returned to the hospital the next day, Brass had tracked down her identity and contacted the police in her hometown in Montana. They dispatched a detective team to her address to investigate her disappearance and search for clues to any foul play, promising to keep the Las Vegas detective apprised of any developments.
As he entered her room, Brass experienced a brief panic moment at seeing the bed unoccupied. Having recently lost another amnesiac witness to an overzealous cost-conscious hospital administrator, the detective was temporarily over-sensitive. Then he realized her sheets were rumpled and the bathroom was occupied, light spilling under the door.
When she opened the door, her eyes were cloudy as her fingertips wandered subconsciously over one cheek.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"This is going to sound weird," she began, but he nodded encouragingly. "I look in the mirror...and it's not my face. But...when I try to describe what I think I should be seeing — brunette, longish hair, blue eyes, oval face — it's the same description as the mirror, just not the same exact face... like... like one of those sketches you see on the evening news, of unknown crime suspects. It's similar, but not exactly, the same as the real person."
"I'll bet that's perfectly normal for someone with amnesia," he said, trying to cheer her up. He really didn't know whether it was true, but filed the idea in the back of his mind to check later. "I wouldn't worry too much."
"The doctors say I should be able to leave tomorrow, but that it could be a little while before my memory clears up," she said. "I might not even remember everything."
"That's OK," he replied. "The coroner found the cause of death. It seems the same species of snake that bit me also bit the deceased woman. Several weeks ago, as near as can be determined. So you're off the hook." He smiled. "I'll return again tomorrow and see how you're doing."
She smiled shyly. "I'd like that."
Not content to wait for the Bozeman detectives to finish their investigation, Brass followed up on some of the preliminary information they had given him. He contacted her employer, BMF Inc., in Texas.
The receptionist greeted him with a friendly southern accent, but was stumped when he asked for Ms. Moorlyn's immediate supervisor. With helpful efficiency, she patched him through to a Mr. Bateman, Vice President of Human Resources, "who would surely have all employee records at his fingertips."
Mr. Bateman answered the phone with the same pleasant drawl as the receptionist, exchanging formal names without hurry before getting down to business.
"Oh, yes. Madeleine has been with our company since its inception nearly twenty-five years ago. But I'm not surprised Linda doesn't know her — Linda's only been here for a year or so and Leinney — Madeleine — is one of our free-lancers. She works out of her home in Montana and hardly ever visits the main office here."
"Who is her supervisor?"
"Technically? No one. She works special projects for whichever department needs her services."
"What would those be?"
"Writing, researching, editing — that sort of thing. Anything we need. She writes articles we release to magazines. She edits training manuals..."
"I see. Do you know who she's been working with most recently?"
"Let me look it up for you... Yes, that would be Fell, Dr. T.H. Fell. Now that's strange..."
Brass filled the ensuing pause, "What's strange?"
"Well, Dr. Fell was only on our employee roster for two weeks back a few months ago. Yet Leinney's still listed as working with him and therefore not available." He chuckled, "she's had a long vacation. I hope she doesn't think we've forgotten about her..."
"More like the other way 'round," Brass commented.
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't tell you, but the reason for my inquiry is that we're investigating her disappearance a few months ago."
"Oh, no!" Bateman exclaimed with sudden concern. "She's not...?"
"Dead? Thankfully no. We found her wandering alone in the desert southeast of Vegas. We're trying to piece together how she wound up here so far away from Montana."
"Is she OK? Is there anything we can do for her? I can send someone — no, I should come myself — what hospital is she in?"
Brass cut off the tumult of questions, "She's fine; she'll be out of the hospital this afternoon. She just doesn't remember what happened."
"D'ya think her disappearance has something to do with Dr. Fell's project?" Bateman inquired, now calmed by Brass' assurances about Ms. Moorlyn's state of health.
"It's a possibility, given the time frame."
"I'll have one of the assistants pull all the relevant paperwork and fax it over to you. And feel free to call me anytime with any other questions."
Brass gave him the fax number. But a detail still bugged him. "Mr. Bateman, it's all very commendable that you should be so concerned about Ms. Moorlyn, but isn't it a bit unusual for you to offer to fly out here personally when she's just a free-lancer?"
Bateman chuckled, "If you knew the corporate culture of this company, you might not ask that. But you're right, Leinney is more than just a free lancer. She was the only living relative left after Mr. Bismaquer died. Bless Mr. Bismaquer, our benefactor — you know, the BMF stands for the Bismaquer Memorial Foundation. His will converted all of his business holdings under the Foundation, folding all former profits back into the system so that his employees could have stable employment without interference from greedy investors. But Ms. Moorlyn wasn't a former employee. I think she was niece if I recall correctly. But instead of inheriting a trust fund, she's on a permanent retainer and has a job — any job she wants — for as long as she wants it. Some of the original employees' children whom Bismaquer sort of adopted have a similar arrangement, too. Mr. Bismaquer wanted to leave a different sort of company as his legacy; he envisioned a family company, where all the employees treat each other like family, and everyone pulls his own weight."