Body of Evidence

The '98 white Monte Carlo sat directly in the middle. On this side of the car, a heavy punching bag was chained to the crossbeam of the ceiling. Next to it hunkered a weight bench, with a barbell on the rack supporting about the same amount Sara could bench-press.

Hamilton led them to the back of the car and looked down at the taillight.

'What the hell!' Hamilton blurted, his head tilting to one side, as he tried to comprehend the broken light on the right rear fender of his car.

Actually, the taillight was mostly intact, a small piece broken out near the bottom, as if something had smacked against it and cracked off a piece, like Candace Lewis's body maybe.

After setting his crime scene kit on the concrete floor with a clunk, Warrick opened it and fished out the evidence bag with the piece of red plastic inside.

'What's that?' Hamilton asked, hovering, his voice unsteady.

Sara said, 'Piece of a taillight found at our crime scene. We just need to see if it fits the break in yours.'

Hamilton looked pale as death, and Sara didn't think it was the man's cold. He shuffled back, out of the way, as if every bad thing in his past, real or imagined, had caught up with.

Taking the piece out of the bag, Warrick fitted it into the hole in the Monte's taillight.

From the sidelines, Hamilton said, 'It fits perfectly!'

'Yeah,' Warrick said, dryly.

'What's it mean?'

Brass showed their host the hint of a smile. 'It means, Mr. Hamilton, you're going to be answering a lot more questions and these criminalists will be searching both your house and the car.'

Hamilton seemed to crumple in on himself; Sara wondered if the man was about to faint.

Then he hauled himself up straight and said, 'I haven't done anything. You're welcome to search all you want-you don't have to go out and get another warrant for my house or anything. But there's nothing to find.'

Warrick gestured toward the broken tail. 'You don't remember doing this?'

'No. Unless…' His eyes flared; paranoia danced in them. 'Maybe somebody's trying to frame me!'

'Frame you for what, Mr. Hamilton?' Brass asked pleasantly. 'Why don't we let our CSIs work their magic, while you and I go have a talk.'

'All right. I'm here to cooperate. I hope I've made that clear.'

'Crystal.'

Sara and Warrick rolled their eyes at each other and got to it: she took the car, he took the garage.

After an hour in the trunk, she had found no blood, no fibers, no hair, no leftover adhesive from the duct tape, no anything. She climbed out, perspiration matting her hair to her forehead and the back of her neck.

'This is the wrong car, Warrick,' she said, matter of factly. 'There's never been a body in this trunk.'

'You're sure?' he asked, crossing from the workbench on the far side of where she stood. 'Guy's a law enforcement freak. Maybe he cleaned it.'

'Does he strike you as savvy enough to obliterate each and every trace of evidence?' She pointed to the Monte Carlo. 'If Candace Lewis's body had been in this trunk, there would be some evidence of it. Blood, fibers from the carpeting, a hair, something. Instead, there's nothing but trash. What did you find?'

'Diddly,' Warrick said.

Sara gestured with both hands. 'You think maybe that's because there is nothing to find? I mean, geez, we found more at the mayor's house. At least those hairs confirmed Candace had been there.'

Warrick mulled that for a while; then, tilting his head toward the house, he said, 'Let's go have a talk with Brass.'

They packed up their gear, lugged it through the house and Warrick signaled for Brass to meet them in the front yard. A moment later, Brass joined them.

'What have you got?' he asked.

They both shrugged.

Brass frowned. 'Meaning?'

Sara said, 'Unless this guy is the Dr. No or Professor Moriarty of crime scene cleanup, Candace Lewis was never in that trunk.'

'You're sure? Didn't that taillight match?'

She nodded. 'It did, and that's a significant puzzle piece, a literal one. But other than that, I can't find anything. What's Hamilton saying?'

Brass sighed. 'He claims he never heard of her until she made the papers.'

'You believe him?'

The detective gave a half-hearted shrug.

'He have an alibi for that night?' Warrick asked.

'Yeah-he says he was at the All-American Jukebox casino, all night.'

'Gambling?'

Brass shook his head. 'Installing a new security system.'

'He's not a security guard?' Warrick asked.

'No,' the detective said. 'He installs stuff. Works for a company that handles a lot of the casinos.'

Warrick frowned. 'Security systems. Doesn't that ring a bell?'

Sara's mind was elsewhere. 'So, he should be on videotape somewhere, sometime, night of the murder?'

'Should be,' Brass said.

'Helpful,' Warrick said.

Hamilton peeked tentatively from his doorway, then came outside; he was holding a cup of coffee. 'Are you guys done in there?'

They traded looks, then shrugs, and finally, Brass nodded to Hamilton.

Hamilton approached them and, in a confidential manner, asked, 'So, are you allowed to tell me who claimed my car was at your crime scene?'

Slowly, Brass shook his head. 'Sorry.'

Hamilton took a slug from his mug, swallowed, and looking Brass in the eye, asked, 'I was just wondering…Was it David Benson?'

Their eyewitness!

And Benson was also an installer of security systems…. That was the ringing bell none of them had been able to answer!

Brass kept his cool. 'Why do you ask, Mr. Hamilton?'

'Oh, I don't mean to be rude-anybody want coffee?'

'Thank you, no, Mr. Hamilton,' Brass said. 'Benson?'

His voice icy, Hamilton said, 'The little bastard's been my nemesis for a couple years now. See, I work for Spycoor, and Benson works for Double-O Gadgets.'

Warrick said, 'You're competitors?'

'Sort of. We work the same territory for different outfits. We've had a couple of run-ins over clients and he's tried to blackball me with customers, by trying to get me in trouble with the cops.'

'Can you give us the details?'

'Sure. Chapter and verse.'

Sara turned to Warrick and whispered, 'Grissom's mantra.'

With a pained expression, Warrick replied: ' 'First on the scene, first suspect.' '

'So. We've been played?'

Moving closer to her, keeping his voice low, Warrick said, 'We have been played.'

Brass was still talking to Hamilton. 'Thank you for your time, sir. I'm going to send another detective out to get the details on Benson's other…pranks on you. But in the meantime, you've given us a real lead.'

The skinny man's eyes danced behind his glasses. 'Have I? Great! I can't imagine anything cooler.'

'Pardon?'