“And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Haven’t been going quite as wild as you might think, though-can’t knock back the pints the way I used to. I’ve b een seeing a lot of shows.”
“Which ones?”
“Well, a number of the ones that feature beautiful women in various states of undress-what a surprise, eh? But I’ve caught a few others, too-like this bloke who did impressions of damn near everybody from Elvis to the Pope. He was very entertaining. And the show I just got out of had a cross-dressing magician.” Jake laughed. “Nothing’s ever as it seems in Vegas, is it? Everybody spends all their time trying to convince people they’re somebody else, or that something that isn’t so really is. No place for a serious scientist.”
“I’d say just the opposite. I can’t think of a place that needs a serious scientist more.”
Jake shrugged. “Fair enough. And maybe an entomologist is the perfect fit for Vegas, anyway. After all, who’s better at pretending to be something else than our little many-legged meal tickets… they’re the illusionists of the natural world, or maybe the impressionists. Hide in plain sight, right under your nose…”
13
GRISSOM MET WITH Nick and Riley in his office. The tox report had come back on the sample of Roberto Quadros’s hair, and the first thing he did was hand copies of the report to both of them.
Riley responded first. “According to thi s, Quadros had the homobatrachotoxin in his system as far back as six weeks ago.”
Grissom nodded. “And in levels high enough to induce paralysis.”
Nick frowned. “But… we had Quadros in here, walking and talking. He wasn’t paralyzed then.”
Riley gave her report back to Grissom. “Snake handlers will dose themselves with small amounts of venom over a long period of time in order to build up a tolerance. Maybe he did the same thing.”
“In that case,” said Grissom, “we would have seen a gradual buildup. That didn’t happen-a fairly high level simply appears at around the six-week mark and stays consistent until death. That suggests something else entirely.”
“Captivity,” said Nick. “Someone was using it to keep him immobile for the past month and a half.”
Riley shook her head. “So if Roberto Quadros was a prisoner, unable to move-who was it we interviewed?”
“The motel room the body was found in was registered to Larry Wheeler,” said G r i ssom. “LW-the same initials he used online to lure Keenan Harribold.”
“So Quadros isn’t our killer,” said Nick. “LW is still out there.”
“Yes,” said Grissom. “Presumably with a large amount of HBTX that he still intends to use. And we have no idea where or when.”
Riley and Nick surveyed the various items spread out over the surface of the light table. They included a tent, a sleeping bag, and several heaps of unwashed clothes, everything they’d confiscated from the last-known location of Robert Ermine, aka Buffet Bob.
“Okay,” said Nick. “We didn’t find anything obvious on the first go-round, so it’s time to look a little closer. I’m thinking we concentrate on clothing; doesn’t look-or smell-like he’s washed any of it for a while, so it’s possible something he wore while working for LW picked up some trace.”
“Unless the killer decided he didn’t want his drones wandering away from the hive. Could be that once Bob started working he wasn’t allowed to leave-which is why no one’s seen him for weeks.”
“Yeah, but LW did send three of them on a field trip to obtain supplies at one point. Bob could have slipped back to his tent then, maybe for a change of clothes.”
“I guess it’s possible. You want tops or bottoms?” asked Riley.
Nick grinned. “I’ll take anything above the waist.”
“So I get socks and underwear? Lucky, lucky me.”
Grissom studied the recorded interview with the man who’d called himself Roberto Quadros. On-screen, he was leaping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at Nick Stokes, calling the entire process an outrage.
Defensive posturing. The larvae of the elephant hawk moth mimicking a snake about to strike.
“I didn’t come here for the hedonism, Mr. Stokes,” the imposter said.
Many insect species die after mating.
“I came for the intellectual stimulation provided by an exchange of ideas between men and women like myself…”
What was it he said to me when we first met? “We study arthropods, do we not? The biological equivalent of machines. They have no psychology, no culture, no advanced cognitive functions. Seeing them through the filter of h uman experience does nothing but distort data.”Were you really talking about insects? Or was that your opinion of the human race?
He watched the interview through to the end, then went back to something Quadros had said near the beginning.
“-at the very least Dr. Grissom could have talked to me himself.”
He froze the image. Quadros had looked directly into the camera when he said it, knowing full well that at some point Grissom would be staring back.
Was that a trace of a smile hidden behind his bushy white beard?
“Think I’ve got something,” said Riley.
Nick put down the T-shirt he’d been examining. “Fibers?”
“Yes. White, and very fine. They’re all over the cuffs of these jeans.”
Nick walked around to her side of the light table to take a better look. “Those don’t look like they came from an animal. Could be plant matter.”
“Well, you’re the fiber expert.”
“So they say. I’ll check it against the database.”
“You mind if I do it?”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “No, go ahead. I do something wrong?”
“No, no. It’s just-you track down a fiber, it’s business as usual. I do it-” She stopped.
“You do it, Grissom might notice. Funny, I didn’t think you much cared what Grissom thinks.”
“He’s my superior-of course I care w hat he thinks. And this isn’t about sucking up, either. I just want him to see that I’m competent.”
Nick smiled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. If there’s one thing Grissom notices, it’s how the job gets done. Just don’t expect a lot of hearts and flowers-getting a ‘good work’ from Grissom is like three cheers and a parade from anyone else.”
“I’m starting to get that.”
“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine. Let me know what you find on those fibers.”
This time, she smiled back.
In the end, Riley turned to Wendy Simms.
“Hey, Riley,” said Wendy. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
Riley handed her the sample of the fibers she’d collected from the jeans. “I do. This.”
“Fibers? I do DNA.”
“I know. But these are plant fibers; I’ve searched through every botanical database I can find and can’t get a match through physical characteristics alone. I’m hoping you can ID it for me.”
“Well, plants have genes just like all living organisms. As long as this particular species is on file, I should be able to track it down.”
Riley noticed Hodges in a corner of the lab, hunched over a piece of paper and muttering to himself. “No, no, that’s too big…”
“What’s Hodges doing?” asked Riley. “I’ve never heard him talk to himself before.”
Wendy sighed. “Oh, you will. But he usually only does it when in the throes of creativity.”
“What’s he creating?”
“I’m not sure. But he asked me for my measure-ments-including hat size-so I’m a little worried.”
“I can hear you, you know,” said Hodges.
Riley and Wendy looked at each other, then approached Hodges together. He quickly turned over the large sheet of paper he’d been working on.
“Are those crayons?” said Wendy.