Sin City

Sara came over and peered into the drawer. 'DNA on a stick!'

Catherine snapped several photos of the device then she carefully slipped it into an evidence bag. 'I'll let you drop this one off with Greg,' she said.

Sara gave her a 'gee thanks' expression, then said, 'Found a couple of wigs, but nothing like the short-hair one in the security video. And no mustache, beard or spirit gum.'

'Let's keep looking. There's a surprise in every drawer….'

'Be nice to find a Lipton Construction jacket.'

Sara went from the dressing table to the closet. The second drawer of the headboard was empty and Catherine moved to the bed. The RUVIS showed a few spots of bodily fluids on the spread and Catherine bagged the spread, too. Recently washed, the sheets were clean under the ultraviolet. Stripping off the sheets, Catherine immediately saw small dark stains in numerous places on the mattress.

Sara was pulling several pairs of jeans from the closet; these and a couple of baseball caps, she bagged, saying, 'No boots.'

'None?'

'Cowboy or otherwise-nothing.'

After taking pictures, Catherine took scrapings from the dark spots on the mattress. It appeared to be menstrual blood, but she bagged each scraping separately.

They spent hours combing the apartment, but never found any boots or Lipton Construction jackets or any other evidence that seemed to point toward Tera Jameson's guilt.

Finally finished, they packed up their silver field kits and met Conroy and the landlord outside.

'Anything?' the detective asked.

Catherine shrugged. 'Some material to send through the lab…then maybe we'll know more.'

Conroy frowned. 'No jacket? No beard?'

'No jacket. No beard.'

The elderly landlord was looking at them like they were speaking in Sanskrit.

At the bottom of the stairs, a sporty black Toyota eased by them, and Catherine recognized the woman behind the wheel: Tera Jameson.

The car parked, the engine shut off, and the woman unfolded herself out of the car and started in on a brisk walk. Carrying a purse on a shoulder strap, she wore tight denim shorts, a black cropped T-shirt exposing her pierced navel, and high-heeled sandals. Her bushy brown hair was tied back in a severe ponytail.

Then she saw the little group at the bottom of the stairs and froze in mid-stride.

'Is that my stuff?' she asked, her voice shrill, angry. 'What the hell are you doing with my stuff?'

Conroy stepped forward and held out the folded paper. 'Tera Jameson, we're serving you with a search warrant.'

The exotic eyes were wide, nostrils of the pretty face flared like a rearing horse; she did not accept the warrant. 'What the hell is this? I got rights like anybody else, you know!'

Conroy's voice was coldly professional. 'Ms. Jameson, this warrant allows us to search your residence for evidence, which we have done in your absence.'

'Evidence of fucking what?'

Catherine stepped forward and said, 'Ms. Jameson, we're gathering evidence in the case of Jenna Patrick's homicide.'

Tera shook her head angrily, the ponytail swinging. 'You've got that abusive son of a bitch in custody, don't you? Why aren't you searching Lipton's house?'

'We have,' Catherine said, calmly.

'Well…isn't he the killer?'

With a noncommittal shrug, Conroy said, 'We have several suspects.'

'Oh, and I'm one of them now? I was working the night Jenna was killed. Jesus! He's a crazy jealous asshole! He did it, you know he did it.'

'Well we do know one thing for sure,' Conroy said. 'Lipton never lied to us.'

'Right!' she laughed, bitterly. 'Lie is all Ray Lipton does.' Then she stopped as she realized what Conroy meant. 'Wait…you think I lied to you?'

'I don't remember you telling us you were a lesbian.'

Tera Jameson backed up a step, horrified and offended. Words flew out of her: 'Why the hell does that matter? What business is it of yours? What could it possibly have to do with Jenna's death?'

Catherine asked, coolly, 'Ms. Jameson-were you and Jenna involved?'

'No! We were just friends.'

'We've been told Jenna was bisexual.'

'Who by? That cow Belinda? That's crazy! That's nonsense! Jenna was straight-you think gays don't have straight friends? Odds are one of you three is a lesbian!'

'Jenna was straight?' Conroy repeated, arching an eyebrow.

'Yes, she was straight! So why should I have mentioned my sexual preference? It has nothing to do with this.'

Sara asked, 'So you two just lived together?'

'I told you-Jenna wasn't like that. What, you think we were a couple of teenage girls playing doctor? Get real.'

'Well,' Catherine said, edging past the dancer, the bagged bedspread piled under one arm, 'we'll know soon enough.'

'Is that my bedspread? Are you taking my bedspread?'

Catherine said nothing.

Now Tera was following them as they headed for the Tahoe. 'What else of mine are you taking?'

'Some jeans,' Sara said, casually, 'some other stuff.'

'Shit! You lousy bitches!'

Conroy swung around and faced the dancer. 'Maybe we should take you in, too.'

Tera's face screwed up in rage. 'For what?'

Catherine knew Conroy wanted to say murder…but right now? They had no proof.

So the CSI stepped forward and said, in a friendly manner, 'Ms. Jameson-you liked Jenna. She was your friend. Let us do our job. We're just trying to eliminate you as suspect…that's all.'

Tera thought about that, and said, 'Yeah, right,' not seeming to believe Catherine, but not as worked up, either.

Then the dancer was heading quickly up the stairs, ponytail bouncing.

When Tera was out of sight, Catherine said, 'Greg had better come through for us, or we might find ourselves on the crappy end of the lawsuit stick.'

Conroy sighed. 'Thanks for playing diplomat, Catherine-I was kind of stepping over the line, there. And with the mood Mobley's been in lately, I don't want any part of pissing off the sheriff.'

'I hear that,' Sara said.

But Catherine knew it was worse than just department politics. Detective Erin Conroy had taken in one bum suspect, and doing that a second time could make the case practically impossible to prosecute…if they ever got that far. Any decent defense attorney would make mincemeat of them for arresting two wrong suspects-talk about reasonable doubt-and Jenna Patrick's killer, whoever he or she might be, would walk smiling into the sunset.

'Well, if I can't come up with something solid,' Conroy said to the CSIs as she helped them load up the SUV, 'you ladies better find it for me, somewhere in all this evidence we've been gathering…and soon.'

Then the detective went to her Taurus, and Catherine and Sara to their Tahoe, to head back. The sun was coming up, and another shift was over.

13