"There was surely a better way to tell her."
"Perhaps. I believe in the direct, honest approach myself. Unlike some people."
Gottlieb crossed his arms over his chest, perhaps unintentionally swelling his biceps. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Catherine said, "that you didn't tell investigating officers about your relationship with Daria Cameron. She's missing, and her family is concerned. Don't you think your relationship is something the police might want to know about? Or were you afraid that it would make you a suspect?" She knew she was pushing it, maybe going a little over the top. But her certainty that this guy would complain to Ecklie, combined with his lame attempt to intimidate her by showing off his muscles, had licked her off.
To her utter surprise, Goltlieb backed down, deflating in an almost physical way. "Okay," he said. "You're right. Daria and I were seeing each other. But you have to understand that we agreed to keep it a secret because she was afraid it might disturb her mother, and I was worried that it might affect my relationships with the other people here at work. There was nothing more sinister about it than that. I didn't say anything to the police because I didn't think it mattered. I knew that nothing I had done had anything to do with Daria's disappearance, so if they spent time investigating me, it would just distract them from what was really important."
"You should have let the detectives make that call."
"I know. I understand that now, really. At the time, I was just thinking of the promise I made to Daria."
"Would her mother honestly have been upset? I thought maybe she knew, and that's why she – "
"That's why she took me back? No way. She wasn't like that. She might even have canned me if she'd found out about me and Daria. But see, I just knew that's what people would believe. Helena took me back because she tried two other people in my job, and neither of them was any good at it. We fought sometimes, because I'm a person who says what he thinks and doesn't stop to think about how someone else might take it. Which is why she fired me the first time, because I said some things about other people around her that she didn't like. But when she found out no one could run the estate the way she likes it, she personally called me and asked me to come back."
"How long has the affair with Daria been going on?" Catherine asked.
"Six months, give or take. We've been friends for ages, and it just kind of moved to a new level one day. Believe me, if there was anything I could have told the police that would help find her, I would have. I've been worried sick about her."
"Okay," Catherine said. She had plenty of experience reading people, living ones as well as dead, and he came across as someone who was telling the truth. "I won't say a word, unless I have reason to believe it would affect the investigation in some way."
"Thank you!" he said. He was so effusive she was afraid he would try to hug her. "You're an absolute lifesaver! I do love my job here, and I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it."
"I'll do what I can," Catherine promised him again. "But if you think of anything – anything – that might help us find Daria, it's absolutely crucial that you let us know." She handed him her business card, even though she had given him one the night before.
He slipped the card into his pocket without looking at it. "I will," he said. "I would have already, except that -"
"I know. You made a promise. Promises are fine, but when lives are on the line, sometimes they have to be broken."
17
Ray didn't like the idea of Nick processing such a complicated scene on his own, out there on the Grey Rock reservation. Not that CSIs didn't have to work alone sometimes, but a multiple-shooting scene was always a big job. And if there was the possibility that the shooters might come back, then a difficult job became a nightmare.
He wanted to get out there, to lend a hand if he could. He wrapped up what needed to be done in his office and started to head out, then remembered he wanted to check on progress in the trace lab before he went to the reservation. One never knew when the most seemingly insignificant fact would turn out to be the key to the whole case.
Then again, insignificant facts were often, in fact, insignificant.
Hodges was in the lab, peering into a comparison microscope, when Ray entered. "Excuse me, David?"
With a dramatic flourish and a rustle of fabric, Hodges whipped his right hand into the air, holding up his index finger. Ray got the message – one second.
As the seconds trailed on and Hodges kept staring into the binocular lens unit, Ray thought maybe he had meant one minute. He hoped it wasn't one hour. He had no intention of staying that long. But it didn't look as if Hodges had any intention of addressing him until he was good and ready. He just kept that finger in the air, as if he was testing the wind.
Finally, Hodges raised his head from the scope and turned to face Ray. He still didn't speak, simply fixed what Ray supposed was meant to be an expectant look on his face and waited.
"Hello, David," Ray said, determined to be polite. "I was wondering if you've made any headway on the materials from the Domingo scene."
"Actually, I have," Hodges replied. "I'm not through all of it yet, but I have some results for you."
"Excellent," Ray said. Hodges stood there for a moment, his expression unchanged. "May I know what they are?"
"Oh," Hodges said, blinking as if his mind had been somewhere else entirely and he had just remembered whom he was talking to. "Sure." He flipped open a folder and glanced at some papers inside. "There was some plant matter found on the body. I've determined that it's from a soaptree yucca plant. Possibly more than one plant. I haven't gone so far as to have Wendy run a DNA comparison on the individual fragments, but I can if you need me to."
"That shouldn't be necessary. Soaptree yucca – that's a pretty common plant in Nevada."
"As common as slot machines."
"Right," Ray said. "Anything else?"
"You brought in some hairs that were found on or near the body."
"Short orange ones, yes."
"Cat."
"Excuse me?"
"Those hairs were from a cat, not a human. An orange cat. I did you the favor of making a couple of phone calls. Robert Domingo's next-door neighbors have an orange cat. The cat is outside at night, and it loves to visit Domingo's place. They're pretty sure he feeds it sometimes, although they've tried to discourage that. They said it came home with something brown and sticky on one of its paws this morning, and they washed it off. I told them it was probably blood."
"So chances are, the cat went inside because the door was open, wandered around, rubbed against Domingo, shed some hairs, and left."
"Unless you're planning to revise your theory about the murder weapon and suggest that maybe the victim was bludgeoned with a cat."
"I don't think so. Thanks for making those phone calls."
"Don't mention it. Seriously. It was a whim – I don't want everybody thinking I'll go that far for them."
"My lips are sealed, David. Is that it?"
"It just so happens that I was talking to Mandy about the cat thing, and she told me she hadn't been able to raise any finger impressions off the lighter. She got a partial palm print, but that's all. She can't match it to anybody yet, but if you come up with a suspect, there's a chance that it can be confirmatory."
"Best we can hope for, I suppose. Thanks, David. I'm on my way to the Grey Rock reservation to join Nick."
"Okay," Hodges said. "One thing, though. When you get back? Don't look for me. If there's any mercy in the world, I'll be home in bed."