Sin City

'…that he never owned a gun?' Grissom finished. 'Yes he did…. Gentlemen?'

Somehow, Brass managed to arrive in front of the Pierce home in less than ten minutes. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky the purplish hue of a huge bruise. The evening was cool and only a few lights were on in the castle-like house. Grissom and Nick hurried to keep up with Brass who moved onto the porch, skipped the bell, and pounded on the front door with his fist.

Pierce, in an open-neck navy Polo shirt and dark blue jeans, opened the door displaying the same hangdog expression they'd seen on their last visit. He had not shaved; perhaps, Grissom speculated, the physical therapist had stayed home from work again today.

Brass held out the photocopy of the receipt like a bill collector demanding a payment way overdue. He didn't even wait for their reluctant host to speak. 'You lied, Pierce! You told us you never owned a gun-so how do you explain a receipt for bullets you bought?'

The detective kept walking as he spoke, backing Pierce inside the house with the force of his words and forward motion. Grissom and Nick followed them in, the former even shutting the door behind him, as the group gathered in the foyer by the winding stairway.

'And don't bother feeding us some bull about buying them for a friend,' Brass ranted. 'This time, I want the truth.' Finally, when the detective stopped to take a breath, Pierce got a word in.

'All right!' the therapist said. 'All right, I admit it…. I…I had a gun in the house…for awhile.'

Brass seemed ready to blow again, but that statement brought him up short. He looked hard at Pierce. 'Had a gun?'

'Had a gun,' Pierce repeated.

Brass's open hand shot to his right temple, as if he were either fighting off a vicious migraine or a sudden stroke. Neither option struck Grissom as positive.

The therapist held up his hands in a fashion that was equal parts surrender and calming gesture; then he led them into the living room, gesturing to the rifles-and-flags sofa. 'Please, please…sit down. Let me explain.'

In a stage whisper in Grissom's direction, Brass said, 'This should be prime.'

But Brass took a seat on the couch, while Grissom again sat at the edge of the maple chair opposite; Nick hovered in the background, while Pierce settled in chummily beside the skeptical detective.

'I know what you're thinking,' Pierce said, reasonably, with a tone usually reserved for children. 'Cocaine in the house, gun in the house, Born-Again wife…he had to have killed her.'

'Now that you mention it,' Brass said.

Running a hand over his unshaven face, the therapist sighed in resignation. 'Okay. I had a gun. A .44 Magnum I bought from…an acquaintance.'

'And of course it wasn't registered.'

'Your negative attitude, Captain, doesn't keep that from being any less true.'

'The name of the acquaintance?'

Pierce hesitated.

The sarcasm in Brass's tone had been replaced with matter-of-fact, almost cheerful professionalism. 'One of you is going to jail this afternoon, Mr. Pierce-either you or the person who sold you an illegal weapon. You make the call.'

'I can't tell you, Captain.'

'Can't? Won't, you mean.'

'I bought it from the man I was buying cocaine from. He doesn't even know my wife-he's no suspect in this.'

Brass frowned in shock. 'And you're protecting him?'

'I'm protecting myself and my daughter. Do I have to tell you that these kind of people are dangerous?'

Grissom said, 'You were friendly enough with this person to purchase a weapon from him…what, to protect your family from the likes of the man you bought it from?'

'You might say…Guys, fellas…this is hard to admit.'

Brass smiled an unfriendly smile. 'Try.'

Pierce sighed. 'For a while, I was…when Lynn got involved with her church, gone all the time…well. She used to be…God!'

Grissom said, 'Mr. Pierce, if you are innocent, you need to be frank us, so we don't waste our time going down your road. Do you understand?'

Pierce swallowed thickly, nodded. 'My wife used to be a wildcat…in the bedroom? Do I really have to say more?…Anyway, when she…got religion, certain things suddenly seemed…perverted to her. We hardly…had relations at all, anymore…. I need something to drink. Just water.'

'Nick,' Grissom said, and gestured toward the kitchen.

Nick nodded and went away.

'I'm not proud of it,' Pierce said, 'but…I started seeing prostitutes. They're not exactly tough to hook up with in this town. Sometimes I brought them to my office, sometimes to a motel, and sometimes…I brought them here.'

The son of a bitch was confirming the next door neighbor's story!

Nick delivered the glass of water, Pierce took it, saying, 'Thanks…You know how some of these girls, these women can be. How they sometimes bring their pimps or whoever around…and my…my coke connection said I should be careful. Said I needed protection in the house…. So I bought the Magnum.'

Brass said nothing; then glanced at Grissom, who shrugged. It was a good story.

'Okay, Mr. Pierce,' Brass said softly, 'then where's the gun now?'

Pierce looked at the floor, then at Brass, and back at the floor. 'I had second thoughts about having it around the house, and, anyway, I stopped seeing those kind of girls.'

'You haven't answered my question.'

'I threw it away.'

Grissom, wincing, said, 'You threw the gun away?'

'Yes.'

'Where?'

'Lake Mead.'

Grissom felt as though he'd been slapped; he glanced at Brass, whose expression said he felt the same.

Brass asked, 'You own a boat?'

'No. I went out on one of those excursions. Just tossed the thing overboard when nobody was looking.'

Grissom said, 'Don't suppose you kept the receipt for that ride?'

'No. Why should I? Wasn't deductible.'

Brass rose, reaching for his cuffs. Grissom, still seated on the edge of the chair, touched the detective's elbow, then-with his head-signaled for Brass to come with him.

Rising, Grissom said, 'We'll be right back, Mr. Pierce. If you don't mind, we're going to borrow your kitchen for a moment.'

Pierce sipped his water. 'Be my guest.'

The three of them adjourned to the kitchen.

'Lake Mead?' Brass said, eyes wide with fury, though he kept his voice low. 'He's rubbing our goddamn faces in it!'

'No, that's good,' Grissom said, with a hand gesture and a little smile. 'He's cute. He thinks he's smarter than us.'

'Maybe he is smarter,' Brass said.

'Than some of us…maybe.' And Grissom grinned sweetly, while Brass shook his head in utter irritation-only some of it at Pierce.

'You are going to arrest him for the pistol?' Nick asked Brass, also keeping his voice low.

'Damn right,' Brass said. 'That much we do have on the son of a bitch.'

Now it was Grissom shaking his head. 'It'll never hold up, Jim-you know that. There's no gun. All we really have is a receipt for bullets dated six months ago.'

'He confessed to having a gun!'