Free Binding Ties by Max Allan Collins Page A

Similar to, but not the same as, the Limerick Rose that was CASt’s preference years ago.”
    Catherine said, “Limerick Rose was also an Ile De France.”
    Nick found a meager grin. “Ask an expert…. Problem with the Bright Rose is, it’s sold everywhere, from the cosmetics counter at a Fashion Mall department store to Walgreens. We’d have about as much chance as tracking a bottle of soda.”
    â€œThe rope?” Warrick said. “Same deal—sold in every hardware store. But I did get epidermal cells off both sides and both ends of the rope.”
    â€œI’m still testing them,” Greg said. “Trying to figure out which are the vic’s, which the killer’s. Where the rope was around the vic’s neck, that was easy—but the rest of the rope, well, key is trying to find where the vic fought
against
it, and where the killer might have been
pulling
it. Then we can determine whose cells are whose.”
    Grissom’s head tilted to one side. “Matter of time?”
    â€œMatter of time—not much of that, really.”
    â€œAll right, Greg. Keep me in the loop.”
    â€œIn this case,” Greg said, “you might not want to be in a loop.”
    Grissom said, “I’ll do the gallows humor, Greg—and I’m not in the mood.”
    The lab tech lifted his eyebrows and set them down and looked anywhere but at Grissom.
    â€œCome to think of it, Greg,” Grissom said with a ghastly smile, “don’t you have work to do?”
    â€œYes. Yes I do.” Greg rose, his smile one of the most strained in the history of man. “Work. To do. ’Bye. Everybody….”
    And Greg took his files and went.
    So much for the only upbeat attitude at the table.
    Travelling from face to face of his CSI team, Grissom said, “All right—here’s what we’re going to do.”
    Brass said, “You’re going to tell
me
what to do, Gil?”
    Grissom said, “Yes.”
    Brass thought about that; then said, “Okay.”
    â€œYou want to talk to that reporter, Jim, be my guest. But first, sit down with Catherine and Nick.”
    Brass gave Grissom a tentative nod.
    Grissom said, “Cath, I want you and Nick to go through the old case file, all five kills, all the old suspects, find out everything you can, cross-reference and collate and stay alert. Sit down with Jim. Find out where our suspects are … here in town, movedaway, in the ground, but find their whereabouts. And keeping in mind what the files have told you, develop theories about whether any of them might be back in business with an adjusted M.O.”
    â€œTheories?” Catherine said, wondering if she’d heard him right.
    â€œThat’s right. Not wild guesses.”
    â€œGlad to.”
    â€œWarrick, Sara, and I will continue to work the evidence from the Sandred house and see if we can turn something we’ve missed. Call it the first of the theories if you want. But I’m on record: This guy is just getting started.”
    Not a wild hunch, Catherine knew, as they all recognized the mark of a serial killer when they saw it, and there could be no question: This creep was just amping up.
    â€œAnd another troubling aspect,” Grissom said. “If, as with our would-be Jack the Ripper a while back, we have a copycat who’s following the pattern of an original, then we might have a finite number of victims … five in this case … after which our homicidal performance artist stops, and fades into the night.”
    â€œLike the original Ripper,” Nick said.
    â€œHell,” Warrick said, “like the original CASt!”
    Grissom, Warrick, and Sara surrendered the conference room to Brass, Nick, and Catherine, who huddled around one end while Brass pulled the large cardboard box closer to him, to lift items out.
    Businesslike, nearly robotic, Brass withdrew the first file. “First vic was