disheartened-looking Alex Sherman, his crisp business attire now looking as wilted as he did. Sherman sat at one of the four chairs at the table-the room's sole furnishings-feet flat on the floor, hands folded in front of him.
Brass was saying, 'You told us before that you never owned a freezer.'
'I don't. Didn't. Never have.'
'What about the Kenmore in apartment 217H?'
'None of our apartments have freezers, unless you count the little built-in ones that come with the refrigerators.'
'So, we just imagined that freezer in apartment 217H?'
'It must belong to the tenant.'
'Lavien Rose.'
'If you say so.'
'A dead woman.'
'Again, I only know that, Detective Brass, because you mentioned it.'
'Your wife handled the business end of your real estate holdings.'
'Mostly, yes.'
'Would she have known Lavien Rose?'
'No. Hector dealt with all of that. The name may have been written down somewhere, but we don't deal directly with the tenants.'
'Does the name Sharon Pope mean anything to you?'
Sherman shook his head. 'Never heard of her, either.'
Catherine was watching Sherman closely. Her gut told her the man was telling the truth; but then she recalled what she'd just told Warrick about trusting her instincts…. Maybe the guy was just a hell of an actor.
'Who is she?' Sherman asked, turning the tables on Brass. 'I mean, who was she? My tenant?'
'Lavien Rose.'
'No, I mean-who was she? That's an odd name. It sounds like…a stage name.'
'It is,' Brass said, obviously unnerved by the turnabout of the interrogation.
'Well, I never heard of her-what was she, an actress? A stripper?'
Catherine blinked.
'Performance artist,' Brass said.
Sherman twitched a half-smirk. 'I have to admit, that's a concept that eludes me…performance art. But Regan might know her.'
Brass sat down. 'Regan?'
'Missy's friend. She hangs out with half the artists in town, in her job. Particularly the pretentious ones.'
Catherine felt an electric tingle.
Brass was saying to the suspect, 'Remind me-what's Mrs. Mortenson do again?'
'She's a fund raiser for Las Vegas Arts-meets with not only patrons of the arts, but also the artists…the screwballs who apply for grants.'
'Excuse me, Mr. Sherman,' Brass said, getting up. 'I'll be with you in a moment.'
Sherman was giving him a quizzical look as Brass walked out. He instructed the uniformed officer on the door to stay put.
Catherine caught up with Brass in the next interview room, where he was gazing through the two-way glass at O'Riley interrogating Hector Ortiz. Nothing of import seemed to be going down.
'I caught most of that interrogation,' Catherine said. 'Come with me.'
'You got something?'
'I will have.'
They went to the break room, where Catherine had left that newspaper with the article on local performance art. Brass stood patiently while she quickly scanned it.
'Lavien Rose,' she said, looking at the article, 'has been awarded numerous grants by Las Vegas Arts…. Can you wait while I check something?'
'I can keep you company.'
This time she led Brass to the computer terminal in the layout room. It took less than fifteen minutes to learn that Sharon Pope, aka Lavien Rose, had made about twelve thousand dollars last year as a performance artist.
'At least,' Catherine said, Brass next to her as she gestured to the monitor, 'those were the grants she got from Las Vegas Arts. And I can't find any other job for her. Now, we know her rent at The Palms was six thousand a year; we also know her real home across town cost her seventy-eight hundred a year. That's almost fourteen thousand in rent alone. How do you squeeze fourteen G's outa twelve thousand bucks?'
Brass said, 'You don't.'
'Exactly. But maybe the rent for The Palms wasn't coming out of her pocket.'
Brass had a hollow-eyed look. 'Oh, shit…'
'What?'
'I missed something.'
'What?'
He was shaking his head, his expression self-recriminatory. 'When I interviewed Regan Mortenson, and she said she worked for the Las Vegas Arts Council, she told me she'd had an appointment, a meeting with somebody, right after the lunch with Missy.'
'And?'
'It was with an artist…a woman. I'd have to check the notes I made from the interview tape…but I'm almost positive Regan said the woman's name was Sharon Pope.'
Catherine's eyes widened. 'That's who Regan claims she was spending her time with, while Missy was getting murdered?'
'I think so…. Maybe 'Lavien Rose' was supposed to be her alibi, and it went south on her? D'you think Regan ended up whacking her alibi?'
Catherine hadn't processed that fully when Greg Sanders knocked on the doorjamb. The DNA tech, working on a soul patch that was not making it, carried a sheaf of papers in one hand.
Rather irritably, she said, 'What, Greg?'
'Woah! Chill-I'm just lookin' for Warrick and Nick. They brought me the hairs they found in that freezer. They told me it was a rush job, and now they're MIA.'
'What did you find?'
'Hairs from Missy Sherman and an as-yet-unidentified person.'
Sitting up, Brass asked, 'What do you know about the other person?'
'Blonde, female,' Sanders said. 'All I know at this point is that her hair matches one Warrick brought me earlier.'
Getting that electric tingle again, Catherine asked, 'Where did he get it?'
'Not sure-if you can find Warrick, you can ask him.'
Catherine looked at Brass, who said, 'Regan Mortenson and Sharon Pope-both blonde.'
Catherine nodded. 'But only one of them is still alive. We have enough to call on Regan Mortenson, wouldn't you say?'
'Oh yeah,' Brass said.
Nick appeared in the doorway next to Sanders, putting a hand on the lab rat's shoulder and smiling at him impatiently. 'Tell me you have our results.'
Jumpily, Sanders gave up the papers like a thief caught in the act.
'Thank you,' Nick said.
'Don't go anywhere, Greg,' Catherine said.
She convened the group in the layout room. Nick, Warrick and Sanders sat, while an edgy Brass paced by the door.
'What good things have you been up to?' she asked the two CSIs.
'We were in the Trace lab,' Warrick said, 'running prints and matching evidence.'
'I thought we were past that,' Catherine said.
'Yeah,' Warrick said, 'but when prints from Sherman and Ortiz didn't match anything, I decided to go back to
