Body of Evidence (Volume 4) (CSI) - Softcover

Buch 4 von 12: CSI

Collins, Max Allan

 
9780743455824: Body of Evidence (Volume 4) (CSI)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0743455827 ISBN 13: 9780743455824
Verlag: Pocket Star, 2003

Inhaltsangabe

Early one quiet Monday morning, in an empty executive office, assistant Janice Denard begins to prepare for another ordinary day - but instead discovers evidence of horrific crimes, shocking photographs left abandoned in a printer. Now, with the help of the LVPD's computer forensics experts, the CSI team must track through hardware and software, deception and deceit to find the perpetrators. But while Willows and Stokes investigate the once well-hidden secrets now revealed in print, Grissom, Brown, and Sidle uncover new and disturbing evidence in a high-profile media case...the brutal murder of the Mayor's long-missing secretary.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Max Allan Collins is a New York Times bestselling author of original mysteries, a Shamus award winner and an experienced author of movie adaptions and tie-in novels. His graphic novel Road to Perdition has been made into an Academy Award-winning major motion picture by Tom Hank’s production company. He is also the author of several tie-in novels based on the Emmy Award-winning TV series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

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Chapter One

A sense of frustration rarely registered on the personal radar of Catherine Willows. Frustrating situations were so much a part of the fabric of her life by now that she could have long since gone mad had she let such things get to her. But at the moment, the sensation was registering, all right. In fact, she felt herself growing quietly pissed.

This was the tail end of yet another shift, and she and fellow Las Vegas Metro P.D. crime scene investigator Nick Stokes, who was at the wheel of the Tahoe, had been dispatched to take a 404 call -- unknown trouble -- at a business past the south end of the Strip. Unknown trouble could mean just about anything from petty theft to multiple homicides.

But what it definitely meant was another Monday morning where Mrs. Goodwin, the sitter, would have to get Lindsey up and off to school. Catherine's own childhood had often been spent waiting for her mother to come home, and she had hoped to do better for her own daughter. But she was a woman with many responsibilities. Once again, she would just have to tough it out. And be quietly pissed.

The Newcombe-Gold Advertising Agency, their destination, occupied a two-story, mostly glass building on West Robindale just off Las Vegas Boulevard, a couple miles south of the Mandalay Bay and the unofficial end of the Strip.

Newcombe-Gold had joined the new construction craze hitting that part of the city and even though the agency had been a fixture on the ad scene since the seventies, the building was a recent addition to that expanding urban landscape. Tinted windows gave the building a blackness in the morning sun, imparting a vaguely ominous vibe to Catherine, as she and Nick pulled into the gray-white welcome mat of a concrete parking lot, stretching across the building's blank black facade.

The small lot had room for between twenty and thirty cars, but aside from a dark blue Taurus (which Catherine recognized as a LVMPD detective's unmarked car), two patrol cars, and their own CSI Tahoe, only three other cars took up parking spaces.

Nick Stokes parked the Tahoe in a visitor's space near the front entry and Catherine crawled down while her partner hopped out on his side -- Nick was young enough, she guessed, not to feel the long night they'd just finished.

The tan and brown silk scarf -- a Mother's Day present last year from Lindsey -- flipped momentarily into her face, as if the breeze couldn't resist laying on another guilt pang. Her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair whipped in the wind and she grimaced, wishing she were home. She stood nearby as Nick opened up the rear doors of the Tahoe.

Tall, muscular in a fashion befitting the ex-jock he was, Nick Stokes smiled over his shoulder at her, for no particular reason. His short black hair barely moved in the wind and the eagerness in his face made him look like a happy puppy. Catherine sometimes wondered if maybe he liked his job a little too much.

"Too early for admen to be at work?" Catherine said, casting her gaze around the mostly empty lot.

"Not even eight yet," Nick said, glancing at his watch. "Big shots'll be at least another hour -- rest should be filtering in, any time."

"What kind of trouble, I wonder," Catherine sighed.

"Unknown trouble," Nick said, a smile in his eyes.

"Don't tease me at the end of shift."

"I would never tease you, Catherine. I have too much respect for you."

"Kiss my..." Catherine began, but she found herself almost smiling -- damn him.

She grabbed the tool-kit-like stainless steel case containing her crime-scene gear, and led the way to the entry. A painfully young-looking patrolman, whose nametag identified him as McDonald, opened the door for her. The uniform man was tall and broad-shouldered, and you could smell recent-police-academy-grad on him like a new car. His brown hair was clipped high and tight and his smile also seemed a little excessive, considering the hour.

"Morning, guys," he said, with a familiarity that didn't negate the fact that neither CSI had ever seen him before.

"Thanks," she said as she entered, making her own smile pleasant enough but of the low-wattage variety.

"What's his problem?" she asked Nick when they were out of earshot.

"Aw, lighten up, Cath. He's chipper, that's all. You know these young guys. They haven't had time to get cynical."

Neither have you, Catherine thought, then said, "Well, I wonder how long it'll take him to stop opening doors for CSIs."

"CSIs that look like you, probably never....You'll make it up to her, you know."

The non sequitur caught Catherine's full attention. "What?"

Nick shrugged, and his smile was tiny, without a trace of smirk. "Lindsey. She's cool. You'll be fine. Let's do our job -- maybe I'll even buy you breakfast, after."

She gave up and smiled at him. "Maybe I'll even let you."

They were in a spacious lobby, and even though the building glass was smoked, sunlight flooded in. Four chairs, three sofas and two tables arrayed with trade journals and newsmagazines dotted the long, narrow area inside the door. In the far corner, a wall-mounted counter held neat little towers of styrofoam cups and a coffee pot that filled the room with the fragrance of fresh-brewed Columbian-blend. Catherine knew that this -- unlike the sludge back at HQ -- would be the first pot of the day.

A high counter, reminiscent of a hotel check-in desk, crossed the opposite end of the room, the receptionist's tall chair empty; on top of the desk rested an appointment book and a telephone system that looked to be capable of launching missiles across continents. The wall behind was replete with various awards from the Nevada Advertising Council, the Southwest Advertising Coalition and two awards Catherine recognized as the Oscars of the ad game, Cleos.

To the left of the reception counter, far off to the side, another uniformed officer stood at the aperture of a hall leading into the warren of offices.

Something was in the air besides that Columbian blend.

The pleasantness of the uniformed man on the front door had been replaced by a chilliness that had nothing to do with air conditioning. Catherine wondered if Nick sensed it, and she glanced at him. He too was frowning.

They moved through the room without touching anything. Though they had been dispatched here, the reason for the call had been obscured behind the "Unknown Trouble" tag. Sometimes the term mean just that: the nature of the crime was unknown, possibly because the person who called it in had been vague or hysterical, but troubled and insistent enough to get a response.

Other times, a crime was considered sensitive, and the officer on the scene made a decision not to broadcast its nature over the police band.

Was that the case here?

At any rate, as they made their way over to the second uniformed officer, they did their best to not contaminate anything that might later turn out to be evidence.

So much for a cup of that coffee.

"Detective O'Riley's in the conference room at the end of the hall," the uniform informed them. This officer -- Leary, the nametag said -- was perhaps five years older than the one posted outside, and he was dour where McDonald had been chipper. Maybe five years on the job was all it took.

Catherine thanked him, and they walked the corridor, which was wide and long and lined with framed print ads; at the end, a set of double doors yawned open.

Along the way, the artwork on the walls depicted some of the company's most successful campaigns. She was familiar with all of them. When they got to what appeared to be the conference room, another hallway peeled off to the right.

Through the open door of the conference room, Catherine could see a large ebony table that...

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Verlag
Pocket Star
Erscheinungsdatum
2003
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0743455827
ISBN 13 
9780743455824
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
320
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Simon and Schuster Netherlands BV
info@simonandschuster.nl

Herculesplein 96
Utrecht
3584 AA
Niederlande

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9780743478014: CSI: BODY OF EVIDENCE Crime Scene Investigation

Vorgestellte Ausgabe

ISBN 10:  0743478010 ISBN 13:  9780743478014
Verlag: Pocket Books, 2003
Softcover