Free Brass in Pocket by Jeff Mariotte Page B

blood?”
    â€œBlood from the Rancho Center Motel.”
    â€œOh, that blood.” She consulted a printout on the countertop. “Sounds like that scene was quite the mess.”
    â€œIt was.”
    â€œBut the thing is, although there was a lot of blood, all the samples belonged to the same person.”
    â€œDeke Freeson?”
    â€œI’m still waiting for confirmation on that,” Wendy said. “But if that was your gunshot victim, then I’m betting yes.”
    â€œSo all the samples we brought in were identical?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œIncluding the blood on the bathroom window frame?”
    â€œAll of it.”
    â€œOkay. I guess that clears that up.”
    â€œHope so, Nick.”
    Nick walked away, finally headed for Catherine’s office.
    No blood but Freeson’s was good news. As good as could be hoped for, in any case. It meant that whatever had happened to Antoinette O’Brady, at least she hadn’t been injured—to the point of bleeding—in the motel room. The blood transfer on the window frame had probably come from the spatter she had picked up by being on the bed, behind Deke Freeson when he was shot. And probably prone, or crouched low, since the shot had been a through-and-through but had not hit her. The whole scenario was starting to come together in his head.
    He needed to run it by Catherine.
    But before he did that he needed a few minutes, to see if he could work the last bugs out.
    Once again, he delayed that particular visit.

10
    â€œT HIS IS G RISSOM .”
    â€œGil, it’s Catherine. I’m sorry to bother you so late.”
    â€œI’m not on East Coast time yet anyway, Catherine. I’ve been going over my presentation. Is everything okay out there?”
    Catherine had to think about that one. Ordinarily it would have been a simple question with a yes or no answer, but not this time. She spooled a lock of red hair around her index finger. “Not exactly, no.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    She glanced at the door to make sure no one might overhear. This time of night, her office was essentially private, and would be until the day shift came on. But she had left the door open, to send the message to her team that she was always accessible. Gil had offered to let her use his office while he was away, but he would only be gone for a fewdays, and his peculiar set of hobbies—collections of insects, reptiles, and other creatures, jarred and bagged, everywhere you looked—made that room less than welcoming to just about anyone but him. It was bad enough that he had given her his beloved irradiated fetal pig, which she felt compelled to keep around so as not to hurt his feelings, but she didn’t want to pass the nights surrounded by his other prizes. “It’s… well, it’s a little complicated, Gil. It’s about Brass.”
    â€œJim Brass?”
    â€œThat’s the one.”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œWell, we had a crime scene tonight, at the Rancho Center Motel. A homicide.”
    â€œThat’s hardly surprising,” Gil said. “The place is a dump.”
    â€œAnd then some. Deke Freeson was shot. The PI?”
    â€œI know him. He’s a bit of a hard-luck case.”
    â€œWho Brass investigated once.”
    â€œRight, but it went nowhere.”
    â€œThat’s what I understand. Anyway, Brass’s fingerprints were in the motel room, in multiple places. I’m still waiting for hair and fiber analysis to see if there’s anything else linking him to the scene.”
    â€œHe is a detective, Catherine.”
    â€œHe’s off duty tonight, and he didn’t sign the motel log.”
    â€œOkay… that is a little strange. So your presumption is that he was there before the homicide?Or after, but for some reason he didn’t sign in. If he knew the victim was Freeson, he might have been upset, distracted. Is there anything