Sin City

Brass shrugged. 'Officer at the desk told 'em the same thing. That's when they pulled out this tape.'

Grissom glanced at the bag. 'Which is a tape of what?'

Brass had to smile-Grissom was like a kid waiting to tear into a Christmas present. 'Supposedly an argument between Lynn Pierce and her husband.'

'Husband?'

Brass pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped it open, filling Grissom in on the particulars-Owen Pierce, successful physical therapist, married eighteen years to the missing woman.

'Clinic-'Therapeutic Body Works'-in a strip mall out on Hidden Well Road. East of the Callaway Golf Center.'

One of Grissom's eyebrows arched in skeptical curiosity. 'And the Blairs are in possession of this tape because…?'

'This is where it gets good,' Brass said, shifting in the chair. 'The Blairs say Mrs. Pierce showed up on their doorstep last night-with this tape in her hot little hand. Mrs. Pierce told her friends the Blairs that she'd hidden a voice-activated tape player in the kitchen. Wanted to prove what kind of verbal abuse she'd been suffering, of late.'

'I like a victim who provides evidence for us,' Grissom said.

'Well, then you'll love Lynn Pierce. Her hidden microphone caught a doozy of an argument, it seems. Anyway, the Blairs said that Mrs. Pierce gave them the tape for safe keeping, then she sat with them and talked and talked about her marital problems, and trouble with their daughter, Lori…'

'Lori is whose daughter?'

'The Pierces. But most of all, Lynn was tired of the constant threats of violence her husband had been making.'

'Let's hear the tape.'

Brass held up a palm. 'You still haven't heard the best part.'

The detective told Grissom about the Blairs going to the Pierce home, where Owen Pierce claimed his wife had gone to visit a sick brother.

'Is that the best part?' Grissom asked, unimpressed.

'No-the best part is, while the Blairs are talking to one officer at the front desk, the other officer is taking a phone call from guess who.'

'Owen Pierce.'

'Owen Pierce. Calling to report his wife missing. He now claims that she got pissed off after a 'misunderstanding,' and he figures she left him, and he doesn't know where the hell she went.'

Grissom was sitting forward now. 'Did the wife take anything with her?'

'A couple of uniforms went to the house,' Brass said. 'Pierce told them he didn't see her go. But she took her own car-a '95 Avalon-also a suitcase, some clothes.'

'Let's listen to the tape.'

Brass raised both eyebrows. 'Why don't we?'

Slipping on the latex gloves, Grissom removed the tape from the bag. He rose, moved to a small boombox behind the desk, and slid the tape into the holder. After closing the door, he pushed PLAY with a latexed fingertip- Brass noted that Grissom brought the same anal-retentive precision to the simple procedure of playing an audio tape cassette as he would to one of his bizarre experiments involving blood spatter spray patterns or insect eating patterns.

The sound was somewhat muffled; apparently the couple had been standing across the room from the secreted tape recorder. But the words soon became clear enough, as the Pierces raised their voices in anger.

'If you don't stop it, just stop it, I swear I'll do it! I'll divorce you!'

That had been the woman's voice.

Now the man's: 'Stop it? Stop what?What the fuck are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about the cocaine, Owen-and your slutty women! I've already talked to a lawyer-'

'You bitch-lousy rotten bitch…go ahead, go ahead and file for divorce. I'll make sure you don't get a goddamned thing-including Lori!'

Brass glanced at Grissom, but the criminalist's face was blank, his focus complete.

'Owen…' The woman's voice had turned pleading. 'I just want us to be a…family, again. Do you think what I really want is a divorce?'

The man's reply was mostly inaudible, but they heard three words clearly: '…give a fuck.'

The woman spoke again, and she too was inaudible, but then her voice rose, not in anger, but as a conclusion to a speech: 'I just want you and Lori to find the peace that I've found serving our Lord!'

'Oh, Christ! Not that Jesus crap again. I've told you a thousand fucking times, Lynn-I believe what I believe.'

'You don't believe inanything .'

'That's my choice. That's America. That's what your forefathers died for, you dumb…'

At the next word, Grissom shot a look at Brass.

The man was saying, 'You need to give Lori the same space, too, Lynn. She's a young adult. She deserves a little respect.'

'She's a child.'

'She's sixteen! Hell, in half the world she'd be married already! Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed!'

'Owen!'

'I'm just telling you whatI do, what our grown daughter does, is none of your goddamned Bible-beating business.'

'Maybe…maybe Ishould get a divorce then.'

'Knock yourself out…. But remember, you don't get one dime, not one fucking thing.'

'Is that right? I hired the best divorce lawyer in town, Owen-and when I get around to telling him about the drugs and the women and you screwing the IRS by skimming off the top of the 'Body Works'? Well, then we'll just see who gets custody of Lori!'

The woman sounded triumphant, Brass thought, and for a moment the husband had no response. The woman's time on top of the argument didn't last long.

'You do,'Pierce said, 'and I'll kill your holier-than thou ass…'

'Owen! No! Don't say-'

'And then I'll cut you up in little pieces, my darling bride. I will scatter your parts to the four winds, and they will never put Humpty Dumpty back together!'

The argument lasted only a couple of more minutes, none of it coherently audible-the couple had apparently moved farther away from the hidden machine-before the detective and the criminalist heard the sound of a door slam and then the tape clicked off.

'What do you think?' Brass asked. 'We got enough to go out there? Or is that just the road company of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?'

Grissom stood. 'I think we need to go out there. Everybody's in-house, at the moment-let's take the whole crew.'

Brass winced. 'Don't you think we should try for a warrant, first?'

Grissom gave Brass that familiar mock-innocent smile. 'Why? Mr. Pierce called the police. He's concerned about his missing wife. We should help the poor guy, don't you think?'

'Yeah, who needs a warrant to do that?' Brass said, grinning, climbing out of the chair. 'What about the