Grissom was smiling.
Catherine said, 'One of the things in that box is a letter to her husband . . . from Joy Starr.'
Pleased, Grissom said, 'This was the letter that made the police assume Fortunato and Joy Starr ran off together?'
'Yes,' Nick said. 'Am I missing something?'
'It'll come to you,' Catherine said, mildly amused, her eyes alive with a fresh lead. 'Get me your letter, I'll get mine, and meet me in the parking lot.'
Nick was lost. 'The parking lot?'
A slight grin tugged at a corner of Grissom's mouth. 'I see where you're going, Catherine . . . nice thinking. But even if you're right, that won't completely settle the issue. Nick, where did you say that letter was postmarked?'
'L.A. Within the past month.'
'I'll contact the California DMV,' Grissom said. 'Let's see what we can find out about Joy Petty. Then I'll call Jenny Northam and tell her you're on your way.'
'Jenny who?' Nick asked. 'On our way where?'
'Jenny's a forensic document examiner,' Grissom said. 'A fine one-she'll tell us whether or not 'Joy Petty' wrote both letters.'
'And if she didn't?' Nick asked.
'Then,' Catherine said, 'the fun begins-let's get going.'
The bank air conditioner continued to work overtime and even the unflappable Warrick looked chilly after twenty minutes of waiting in Carrie Washington's office. The small talk had evaporated and the four of them sat in awkward silence.
At last, the phone rang. Everyone jumped a little, the shrill sound serving as a release for the tension that had filled the room. Now, with the second ring, anticipation elbowed its way into the office.
Carrie Washington picked up the phone. 'Yes?' She listened, and scribbled notes. 'Address? . . . Employment?' One last scribbled note, and she hung up.
'Do you have something?' Conroy asked.
'Yes. The customer in question is Barry Thomas Hyde. He lives in Henderson, at fifty-three Fresh Pond Court. Owns and manages a video rental store-A-to-Z Video-in the Pecos Legacy Center. That's a strip mall at twenty-five sixty-two Wigwam Parkway.'
Conroy wrote quick notes on the addresses; Warrick had them memorized already. He said, 'Thank you, Ms. Washington.'
'Will there be anything else?'
Conroy rose, and then so did Sara and Warrick. The homicide detective said, 'I think we've got what we need.'
'We do what we can,' Ms. Washington said, and something that had clearly been working on the woman finally emerged: 'You said you were with homicide, Officer Conroy?'
'That's right.'
'So this is a murder case.'
'It is.'
This seemed to impress the professional woman, and Warrick said, 'That's why your help is so important. This involves a dangerous individual, still at large.'
'Anything to help,' the banker said. 'Anything.'
Anything with a warrant.
Sara fought the urge to sprint from this building, to stand in the sun and, with luck, regain some of the feeling in her feet.
'Holy shit,' she said, once they were outside, 'am I freezing.'
Conroy laughed lightly. 'Then it wasn't just me-my teeth were chattering!'
'That name and those addresses didn't warm you ladies up?' Warrick asked.
'If it's not another dead end,' Sara said, 'I'll be warm and toasty.'
Warrick shrugged. 'Let's go see.'
As they walked to the Tahoe, which was parked nearby, Sara said, 'I'll bring Grissom up to speed,' pulling out her cell phone with gunfighter aplomb.
She got him at once, informed him they had a possible ID on the Deuce, filled him in on the details.
'We'll try the house first,' Grissom said. 'Meet me there ASAP-I'll have Brass with me.'
'We already have Detective Conroy with us.'
'Good. If this is our man, he's a dangerous suspect.'
Sara said 'bye, hit END, and filled Warrick and Conroy in.
'Anybody know Henderson very well?' Conroy asked, looking at the address.
'Not really,' Sara said.
'Can't say I do,' Warrick admitted. 'We've worked a few crime scenes there. . . .'
'Well, I don't really know where this address is,' Conroy admitted, gesturing with her notepad.
The absurdity of it hit them, and they laughed: three investigators and none of them knew how to find an address.
Sara, giggling, said, 'Maybe we better get some help from dispatch.'
'Just don't tell anybody,' Conroy said.
' 'Specially not Grissom,' Warrick said.
12
JENNY NORTHAM SHOOK HER HEAD, HER LONG DARK HAIR bouncing gently, then she looked through the microscope one last time.
'Well?' Catherine asked.
'No fuckin' way,' Jenny said, her voice deeper than would be expected for a woman her size-barely over five feet, weighing in at maybe a hundred pounds. 'Shit, guys, this isn't even close.'
Jenny's office nestled in the corner of the second floor of one of the oldest downtown buildings just off Fremont Street. Tiny and slightly seedy, the office boasted apparent secondhand office furniture and carpeting dating to when the Rat Pack ruled the Strip. The back room, where Catherine and Nick had an audience with the sweet-looking, salty-speaking handwriting expert, was exactly the opposite.
Cutting-edge equipment lined three walls with file cabinets and a drafting table butted against the other wall. Two huge tables topped with UV, fluorescent and incandescent lights stood in the middle of the room. Nick and Catherine sat on stools near the walls while Jenny Northam rode a wheeled stool, rolling from station to station around the room, like she was piloting a NASCAR stock car.
'You're sure,' Catherine said.
'Is a bear Catholic? Does the Pope shit in the woods? Whoever wrote this letter . . .' She held up Joy Starr's vintage note to Malachy Fortunato. '. . . wasn't worried about being discovered. This can only loosely be termed a forgery-it's just some dumb shit signing this Joy Starr's name
Catherine frowned. 'That's the only possibility?'
'No-this letter . . .' The handwriting expert pointed to the letter taken at Marge Kostichek's house. '. . . could be the forgery. But any way you look at it, they weren't written by the same person.'
The two CSIs watched as Jenny dipped the letter into a series of chemical baths, then set it to one side to dry. She did the same thing with the original note to Fortunato.
'While we're waiting,' Jenny said, 'let's compare the handwriting, using the two photocopies we made earlier.'
Catherine sat on one side of the handwriting expert, and Nick on the other, as Jenny read slowly aloud the letter to Fortunato:
'My loving Mal,
Im so happy that were finally going to getaway just the 2 of us.
It will be great to be together forever. You are everything Ive always dreamed of. See you tonight.
Love you for ever
