'But…how long you gonna be around?'
'Long as it takes.'
Nick came up the stairs with their field kits in his hands, and started by unpacking his camera.
The super looked stricken. 'The landlord might not like this.'
'I thought you said he was a nice guy.'
'Oh, he is…but this is private property, and-'
'Sir,' Nick said, his camera out, 'we're going back inside. If we don't find what we expect in there, we'll be out in fifteen minutes. If we do find what we expect, we're going to be here for…a while. Let us go in and find out-if we need to stay longer, you can call the landlord, and we'll talk to him, personally.'
'Maybe I should call him now.'
With a boyish grin, Nick said, 'That's your choice, sir. But be sure to mention that you've already given us access, voluntarily.'
Ortiz' face took on a sick look; he hung his head and leaned heavily against the wrought-iron rail of the walkway.
Warrick nodded to O'Riley, who nodded back-an exchange that meant,
Nick and Warrick went back inside.
While Nick snapped some pictures of the squirt bottle in the bathroom, Warrick faced the closed door that might lead to a bedroom. Touching as little of the knob as possible, he turned it and allowed the door to swing open, mostly under its own power.
Like the living room, this room was empty. It too had old carpeting, and cheap heavy curtains; but stretching from an outlet on the wall opposite him, a long orange extension cord snaked away to slip under the closet door at right. The closet was formidable-three sliding doors, each almost thirty inches wide.
'Nick!' Warrick called. 'Looks like we were right!'
Nick joined him in the bedroom as Warrick slid the far door to the left. Filling most of the closet was a large white Kenmore chest freezer, a padlock joining lid to chassis.
Warrick said, 'That's the model Catherine came up with.'
'Oh yeah.'
Warrick inspected the lock, and said, 'We're going to need a cutter and goggles. I left the tool bag on the walkway. I'll go get the stuff; you're the man with the camera.'
'Go,' Nick said.
Outside, Warrick found O'Riley and the super leaning against the rail.
'What's the verdict?' the detective asked.
''Guilty,' eventually-we have what appears to be the murder site.'
'Holy mother of shit,' blurted the super. 'Should I call the landlord now?'
'I wish you would,' Warrick said. 'We're going to be here a while.'
Warrick bent down, sorting through his bag to get out the electric cutter.
O'Riley, taking notes, was asking Ortiz, 'What's your landlord's name?'
'Sherman,' the super said, who had calmed down. 'Nice guy. He won't give you any trouble.'
On his feet now, cutter in hand, Warrick froze. 'Sherman? Alex Sherman?'
'Yeah! You know him? Him and his wife bought this place, couple of years ago. She's the lady that disappeared. Since she vanished, he hasn't been around much. Leaves most of the maintenance work for me to do…. It's a little much for me, really. We're gettin' kinda run-down.'
Warrick said, 'Well, he needs to come around now-in person.'
O'Riley said, 'Where's your office, Mr. Ortiz? I'll help you call him.'
Warrick's cell phone trilled. He pulled it off his belt and punched the button. 'Warrick Brown.'
'Catherine,' the familiar voice said. 'At the Sharon Pope residence. Nothing to write home about here.'
'Well, you might want to stop by over here,' Warrick said. 'There's plenty of subject matter at the Rose crib.'
He quickly filled her in.
'Blink and I'm there,' she said and hung up.
With the cutter and two pairs of goggles in hand, Warrick went back where Nick was snapping pictures of the plug snaking across the carpet.
'You ready for this?' Warrick asked, hands on hips. 'You want to take a flyin' stab at who owns this lavish apartment complex?'
Nick shrugged. 'Alex Sherman?'
Warrick frowned. 'Now how the hell did you figure that?'
'Catherine mentioned that Sherman and his wife had real estate and you just made it clear somebody tied to the case owns this place. Had to be Alex Sherman.'
'You been reading Gris's Sherlock Holmes books?'
'No. But I was raised on Encyclopedia Brown.'
Warrick smirked. 'I was a kid strictly into John Shaft.'
'Shut your mouth…and pop that freezer. And don't pout, Richard Roundtree-you were the one who figured out the Kenmore'd be in here.'
'I was, wasn't I?'
Warrick tossed Nick one pair of the goggles while he put on the other, then plugged the cutter in and turned it on, small blade whizzing back and forth at 20,000 rpm. Leaning in, he touched the tool to the hasp and sparks flew. He was through the cheese-ball lock in less than a minute, the smell of burning metal leaving its industrial bouquet hanging in the air.
With the lock out of the way, they each carefully took a corner of the lid and raised it-the best way not to disturb any fingerprints where people might typically lift the lid.
The freezer was about a quarter full of water, with a short, slotted metal shelf at one end and a little blue nipple on the back wall that-when ice-covered-was a manufacturer's signal for time to defrost.
'Killer's trying to clean up after himself,' Nick said, 'with this defrosting. Get the water out, get the evidence out.'
'Trouble is, we got the water first…which means we have the evidence.'
'See, we do like it to be easy,' Nick said.
Warrick pointed at the blue tip on the freezer's back wall. 'That look like a match to the mark on Missy's cheek?'
Nick studied it for a second. 'Sure does. Slots on the shelf should match up to the marks on her arm, too.'
'I'll work the freezer, and find O'Riley and give him the good news that he's gotta get us a truck to haul this bad boy back to the lab.'
'Sounds good. Then I'll take another look around-never hurts to look twice.'
'Never hurts to look three times.'
Warrick was just finishing lifting fingerprints off the lid when Nick returned holding a clear oversize plastic bag with two large shopping bags inside. The bags within the evidence bag-one white and one red-were from boutiques in Caesar's Palace. One of them looked to be stuffed with clothes.
'Where'd you find those?' Warrick asked.
'Under the sink in the bathroom. Nobody'd got to that yet, when we shooed O'Riley and Ortiz out.' Nick hefted the bag. 'When Brass and I talked to the Mortensons, Missy's friend Regan Mortenson said Missy bought some clothes at the Caesar's mall, day she disappeared.'
Warrick shook his head, gave Nick a wry half-grin. 'You may be right about this 'easy' theory.'
Nick opened the evidence pouch and withdrew a pair of jeans from one of the shopping bags. Nick pointed to a silver stripe several inches wide, near the cuff. 'Looks like the killer duct-taped the victim, while she was dressed.'
'Which is why no duct tape residue was found on the body-Missy was stripped naked after the killing.'
'And that's why there's no signs of struggle, even though the killer killed Missy by holding a plastic bag over her head.'
