Hyde's smile managed to turn even more condescending. 'The number was written on the back of the card, at the end of the signature box. I'm afraid I have a terrible memory.'
Brass said, 'You've been doing pretty well with it tonight.'
'Numbers, names, that sort of thing, I'm hopeless. So I just wrote the PIN on the card. You know, to this day, I can't remember my social security number.'
Grissom had to wonder if that was because he'd had more than one.
'Then you forgot to report the card's loss,' Brass said.
'Yes-precisely. What a fool.' Hyde put his hands behind his neck, elbows winged out, as he leaned back, clearly enjoying himself.
Brass flipped a notebook page. 'Let's talk about before you moved here, five years ago.'
'Let's.'
'Where did you live before you moved to Henderson?'
'So many places.'
'For instance.'
'Coral Gables, Florida . . . Rochester, Minnesota . . . Moscow, Idaho-I even lived in Angola, Indiana, once upon a time.'
'Let's talk about Idaho-when did you live there?'
'During college. More years ago than I would like to admit.'
Grissom figured there was a lot this guy wouldn't like to admit.
Brass was asking, 'So, you went to the University of Idaho?'
Hyde nodded. 'Graduated with a degree in English.' He removed his hands from behind his head and gestured to the posters. 'For all the good it's done me.'
'You seem to have done all right for yourself,' Brass commented.
' 'Education,' ' Grissom said, ' 'is an admirable thing.' '
' 'But it is well,' ' Hyde said, picking up where the criminalist left off, ' 'to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.' '
'Oscar Wilde,' Grissom said, trading a tiny smile with Hyde.
'Speaking of education,' Brass said, unimpressed, 'can you explain why the University of Idaho has never heard of Barry Hyde?'
He seemed surprised. 'No, I can't. I suppose it's possible they've lost my transcript. It has, after all, been quite a few years . . . and a lot of these institutions, when they switched over to computerized systems, well . . . I must have gotten lost in the technological shuffle.'
Brass asked, 'Is there anyone at the university you knew back then we could talk to now?'
'You must be kidding. My old college chums?'
'Yeah-let's start with 'chums.' '
'I have no idea. I haven't been back since I graduated. You might find this hard to believe, but I was painfully shy and kept to myself.'
'And instructors?'
Hyde mulled that over momentarily. 'I don't know if they are still there, but Christopher Groves and Allen Bridges in the English department might remember me.'
Though not one to make assumptions, Grissom felt sure these were the names of two deceased faculty members.
Brass, jotting the names on his pad, glanced at Grissom. 'You got anything else, Gil?'
'Couple questions,' he said, lightly. 'Were you in the service, Mr. Hyde?'
'The United States Army, Mr. Grissom-why?'
'I was wondering where you were stationed.' Not missing a beat, Hyde said, 'I received basic training at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, advanced training in communications at Fort Hood, Texas, and then spent nine months at Ansbach, Germany.'
'It's odd,' Grissom said, 'that your doctor's report says that you've never been overseas.'
Hyde's eyes narrowed. 'Do you make a habit out of invading the privacy of upstanding citizens, Mr. Grissom?'
'Not upstanding citizens, no.'
A sneer replaced the smirk. 'Well, in that case, you must have stumbled across the records of a different Barry Hyde.' He glanced at his watch-a Rolex-and said, 'Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me-while talking with you has been more interesting than I could ever have hoped, it's time to close . . . this conversation, and my store.'
He rose, held open the door for them and they went out into the store, where he wordlessly led them to the front door-Warrick was gone, the cashier closing out the register. This door Hyde held open for them, also, nodding, smiling.
Grissom turned to him. 'See you soon, Mr. Hyde.'
Hyde laughed-once; there was something private about it. 'I doubt that very much, Mr. Grissom.' He went back inside and locked the door. They watched as he took the cash drawer from Sapphire and retired to the back of the store.
'What did he mean?' Brass asked. 'We got a flight risk here?'
'Maybe.'
'Cocky son of a bitch.'
They found Warrick sitting behind the wheel of the Tahoe. 'I got chased out,' he said. 'Any luck?'
'He was less than forthcoming,' Grissom said.
Brass snorted. 'That's being generous. What did you learn, Brown?'
'Once you were in back, I showed my ID to Sapphire and Ronnie. They were pretty cooperative-both said Hyde's been here all night, since just after four. Of course when Ronnie went out for pizza, around nine-that left Hyde in the back office, and Sapphire up in the cashier's slot, a post she couldn't leave. They ate carry-out pizza when Ronnie got back, and that's about it.'
'Actually,' Grissom said, 'Hyde ate salad. No cheese, just veggies . . . Which may break this case wide open.'
'Huh?' Brass said, blinking.
Getting it, Warrick was grinning. 'We'd be shit out of luck, if Hyde was in on that pepperoni pizza.'
Brass was lost. 'What are you guys
Warrick cackled and said, 'No animal DNA in salad.'
'Meet you at the Dumpster,' Grissom said to Warrick, and headed to the back of the building.
17
IN THE LAYOUT ROOM, GRISSOM HAD ARRAYED VARIOUS crime scene photos-of the mummy case, at left, and the Dingelmann shooting, at right-on two large adjacent bulletin boards. He had sent Nick to round everybody up, and Catherine-sipping coffee and eating a vending-machine Danish-was at one of the tables. Nick was already back, sitting next to her, sipping a Diet Coke. Along the periphery, blank computer monitor screens stared at them accusingly-as if it was time to put these cases to bed.
Grissom agreed.
Warrick stumbled in, a coffee in one hand, his other rubbing his face; then the hand dropped away and a tired and puffy set of features revealed themselves, including bloodshot, obviously bleary eyes. 'So, boss-what's up?'
Looking equally exhausted, Sara tumbled in on Warrick's heels. She carried a pint of orange juice and half a bagel with cream cheese.
Grissom filled everybody in on anything they might have missed, and Nick had the first question.
Nick said, 'Okay, Marge Kostichek hires the Deuce to remove Malachy Fortunato, for reasons that are clear, by now, even to those among us who tend to lag behind. . . .'
'Ease up on yourself, Nick,' Sara said.
Nick grinned at her, but the grin was gone by the time he posed the rest of his question to Grissom: 'But why kill the lawyer-Dingelmann?'
