most of the back of it.
With a nod toward the man's hand, Brass said, 'Quite a purple badge of honor you got yourself there, Jer.'
Dayton lowered the hand, shrugged. 'Shut it in the car door.' He shrugged. 'I get distracted sometimes. Do stupid things. Don't you, Captain?'
'Been known to. But why don't you let us do you a solid-I'll have one of the CSIs take a picture of that mitt of yours, we can be witnesses, and you can use it when you sue the car manufacturer.'
'Lame,' he said, shaking his head. 'So lame. Are we done?'
Nick said, 'We could be, if you'd let us take a DNA sample.'
Catherine said, 'Clear you once and for all.'
The armor-piercing gaze shifted toward Catherine. 'My name wouldn't
'Speaking of which,' Brass said, 'who
'I'm a big boy, Captain. I take of myself, and yes, I am on medication, and have been since you railroaded me into that institution.'
'If you feel railroaded,' Catherine said, 'why keep taking the meds?'
His chin, which was almost pointed, lifted. 'I don't deny that I have certain medical problems. I have a chemical imbalance that manifests itself, on occasion, as what you cretins would call mental illness. I monitor my own condition now.'
Nick asked, 'How's that going?'
'Very well. It's working. I take my meds on schedule, every day-I even have a little pillbox with the days printed on, like the senior citizens.'
'Nothing to be ashamed of,' Nick said.
The green eyes flared and so did the hawkish nostrils. 'Who in
Holding up hands, half-smiling, Nick said, 'Whoa-little touchy, aren't we?'
Their reluctant host swallowed. Summoning dignity, he said, 'I have lost both my parents. They were never the same after the CASt debacle. I watched them both die, slowly, a process that began long before they actually ceased to breathe.'
Dayton's glare returned to Brass.
'It started,' the man said, 'when they had to put me in that place, that…that
Brass said, 'So you're not mad at me, anymore, Jerry?'
Dayton shrugged. 'Well…therapy is an ongoing process.'
'Speaking of which, what's your doctor's name?'
'I don't have to share that with you.'
If Brass's grin had been any tighter, his face would have split. 'How about I get a court order, Jerry, and we try this again?'
'Want a name? I'll give you a name.'
'Thank you.' Brass got his notebook out, pen poised to write.
'Carlisle Deams-D-E-A-M-S. My attorney.'
Brass put the notebook away.
Grinning his wide white grin, Dayton said, 'And I guarantee you, Captain, he'll be at the courthouse before you. While you attempt to get your nontestimonial court order to get my DNA, my attorney will be filing an injunction to stop you from harassing me further.'
'When'd you learn so much about the system, Jerry?'
'I started studying up in Sundown. I had plenty of time-and incentive.'
Brass studied the man. 'How about I get a patrol car to park outside here, until we get back with our nontestimonial court order?'
A flip phone came out of Dayton's pants pocket. He hit a button. While he waited for someone to answer, he said, 'Captain, Captain…you make this too,
Brass spun on his heel and pushed through a faintly startled Catherine and Nick and stalked off. They followed quietly.
As he went down the driveway, Brass could hear Dayton say, 'Carlisle? Jerry Dayton.' After a pause, he said, 'Fine, fine. I'm just calling to remind you why I keep you on a such a healthy retainer….'
Brass, pleased he'd managed not to pop the guy, walked around the Tahoe and got out of earshot. To his surprise, Nick and Catherine were right behind him.
Nick said, 'He doesn't
Catherine said, 'He's smart.'
Brass just shook his head. 'I don't want to talk about it-we'll pick it up back at the lab, okay?'
He stomped off, got into his car and managed not to peel out as he gunned the gas and sped away. He was only a block away when he called dispatch and ordered a patrol car to come sit on Jerry Dayton's front door.
If Jerry Dayton thought Brass had been kidding, the guy really
* * *
Warrick Brown found Grissom and Sara in the former's office, going over crime-scene photos from the Bell murder. Flopping down in a chair in front of Grissom's desk, he let out a long sigh.
'Good news,' Warrick said, 'bad news. Choose.'
Grissom said, 'Good?'
'Finally matched the fingerprints on the
'They belong to Perry Bell.'
All the air went out of Warrick's balloon. 'How the heck did you know?'
'Same way I know the bad news is no one else's prints are on the card.'
Warrick sat up straighter now. It drove him nuts when Grissom did this and the CSI supervisor did it a lot-to all of them. 'Greg already gave you the report?'
Grissom shook his head.
That was the other thing that made Warrick mental: Grissom never told him how he knew these things.
Warrick went to the doorway, turned and pointed an accusatory finger at his boss. 'If you're
Grissom cast a boyish smile Warrick's way. 'No reason to get nasty.'
Warrick trudged back to the lab, and immediately dug in to work on the remainder of the prints. His goal was to know who was who, and where they were, in proximity to the crimes. And he wanted to know before
He dumped all the prints into the computer and let the software sort out what matched what. While he waited, he caught up on reports, starting with one Greg had sent that said the dried blood in the Bell home all came from Bell himself.
Another report showed that the synthetic hairs removed from Enrique Diaz matched the toupee of the late Perry Bell. If the late Bell really was the copycat-which was strongly suggested by his ersatz hair being on Diaz's body and his
Had CASt served as vigilante, showed the copycat who the
Warrick wasn't sure what to think.