Grave Matters

He laid out the story for Brass, explaining the evidence that could be used to make Black finally tell the truth.

'Oh, you did good,'Brass said. 'You did fine.'

'Thank Nick-I'm sending him over. Nick'll ask Black for a DNA sample, and if our mortician balks, tell him you'll have a court order in less than an hour.'

'On it.'

He clicked off and turned to Nick. 'Get over to Desert Haven and get a buccal swab from Mr. Black…. Oh, and take Sara!'

'Sara's not here.'

This case was coming together, and Grissom didn't need Sara off somewhere. 'Where is she?'

Nick grinned. 'Having dinner…with clues on the side.'

8

CATHERINE WILLOWS HAD MET her Des Moines contact, William Woodward, at the International Association for Identification convention in Vegas in 2002. They had served on a panel together and she had found the rangy, rugged, fortyish Woodward (like her, a veteran of the divorce wars) to be smart, funny, and, truth to tell, not hard to look at. They had shared drinks and promised to stay in touch-a promise they had kept over the last two years, including getting together again for dinner at a regional IAI conference in Des Moines when he'd brought her in to lecture on blood spatter, her specialty.

He picked up on the first ring. 'Bill Woodward.'

'Lieutenant Woodward,' she said, putting a smile in her voice.

'Catherine Willows,'he said immediately, and he was obviously pleased to hear from her (just as she was that he'd at once recognized her voice). 'Enjoying that vacation wonderland of yours?'

'So you've heard about our heat wave.'

'Notice I had the good taste not to ask if it was 'hot enough for you'…in our business, it's always hot, and temperature is only one measurement.'

She enjoyed Woodward's easygoing baritone. He was a notorious kidder, possibly because he got kidded so much himself about 'hick Iowa' from other CSIs who might well have been jealous of his facility's standing. Woodward's ranked in the top five CSI labs after L.A., Vegas, Miami, and New York.

'Yeah, well, Bill, you know what they say around this town-it's a dry heat.'

'Pushing 120 degrees, last three days, CNN says. At that temperature, humidity be damned-it's just plain damn hot.'

'Hey, last time I was in your part of the world, it was so humid I thought I was inhaling water.'

He laughed a little, then said, 'I'd love to think this was a social call, Catherine-but I'm not that confident about my masculine appeal. What can I do for you?'

She explained about D.S. Ward Worldwide, Vivian Elliot's will, and the PO box attorney Pauline Dearden would be sending a fat check to.

'Dead drop, sounds like,'he said.

'Sure does. I got the box number; got a pencil?'

'I'm ready. Read it to me.'

She did.

He grunted a laugh. 'Gonna be one of those Mister Mailboxes. I'll see if I can find out the renter. Anything else?'

'Nope. I'll just owe you one.'

'Actually, Catherine, we'll be even. That teen runaway you helped me with, couple months back?'

'Yeah-how'd that come out?'

'Kid's in rehab, doing fine. Hey, even if we are even, I'll buy you dinner, next time you come to Des Moines.'

'You know, Bill, there are a few places to eat, and things to do, here in Las Vegas. You could hop a plane, give yourself a break…'

He chuckled. 'We'll complete this negotiation when I get you your info.'

They clicked off, and Catherine went to Warrick's office to tell him what she'd found.

'You're doing better than I am, Cath,' he said, seated at his computer. 'Background checks are goin' way slower than I'd like.'

She drew up a chair. 'How far did you get?'

'Whiting is clean…other than this potential lawsuit with Vivian, anyway…and the other doctors, Barclay and Dayton, also look clean. Still have some work to do on Miller, but so far he's checking out, too.'

'How about the nurses?'

'Well, nothing more on Kenisha Jones. She seems fine.'

'Oh, she seems 'fine' to you, does she?'

He smiled. 'This is your third warning, Cath….'

'Okay, okay,' she laughed. 'What else?'

'Well, of course, Meredith Scott had that misdemeanor theft charge. But that's not much to build on.'

Nodding, Catherine said, 'That still leaves Rene Fairmont.'

'Right, and that's who I'm working on now. So far about all I know is, she was married to Derek Fairmont.'

'Was?'

'He passed away suddenly about eleven months ago. He was that theater guy at the University of Western Nevada-you probably read about him or went to some of the plays he produced. Local celeb.'

'Right, right, head of the drama department-fairly young, wasn't he?'

'Younger than a Sunny Day resident-why?'

'Nothing. Just…never mind.'

Warrick half-smiled. 'What is it, Cath? A hunch? A feeling? Gris isn't around-feel free to share.'

She ignored that and asked, 'What was the cause of Fairmont's death?'

'Heart attack. Presumably.'

'Presumably?'

'There was no autopsy.'

'Cremated, by any chance?'

'Yeah, he was. But a lot of people have heart attacks, Cath; and cremation's kinda common, too, y'know.'

Catherine nodded. 'What else on Nurse Fairmont?'

'Not much of a history I can find, before she married Fairmont. The name on the marriage license was Rene Gondorff.'

'Gondorff?'

'Yeah, isn't that a Lord of the Rings mouthful.'

Catherine grunted, 'Huh,' then asked, 'Do we know what her nursing background is?'

'Still checking, but she was working as a caregiver before she married Fairmont, anyway.'

'Where? Who?'

'Doctor's office. Dermatologist named LeBlanc. Practice on Charleston near the University Medical Center. She was there about three months before she married Fairmont.'

'And before that?'

Warrick shrugged. 'That's as far as I've got.'

'Well, hell! We need more.'

'Right-that's why Vega's going out to her place to talk to her. Has an appointment in just under an hour, in fact…. We can tag along, Vega said. Want to?'

Eyes wide, nodding, Catherine said, 'Ooooh yeah…'

The Fairmont home nestled in Spanish Hills out Tropicana Avenue. A wide, low ranch-style on Rustic Ridge