All language subtitles for CSI.Crime.Scene.Investigation.S09E08.Young.Man.With.A.Horn.720p.BluRay.x264-SiNNERS

* They asked me how I knew *

* My true love was true *

* Oh, oh-oh-oh *

* I, of course, replied *

* Something here inside *

* Cannot be denied *

* They said someday you'll find *

Stop. Stop. You're killing me.

Are you freaking deaf?

I said stop! Kill the playback!

Look,

this might win second prize
at the talent contest

at Spiro Agnew High School
in Bad Limp, Arkansas...

Hey, Drew.

It's not my kid's fault.

Who let Daddy Dearest on the stage?

I gave specific orders...

Everybody's moving around

like there's nothing important going on.

How about a little respect, okay?

Except for your kid doesn't deserve respect.

Lazy little prima donna.

Maybe you should sit with the losers.

Let me try it again.

You don't care.

I do so care-- this isn't a game

to me, all right? I'm a good singer.

It's all I've ever wanted to do,
and you have no right...

There! That passion.

That's what I want to see when you sing.

Now, let's do it again.

And watch your pitch, baby.

Too early in the day to be that flat.

I know I wasn't flat.

Oh, yes, you were.

The name of this show

is Overnight Sensation.

For God sakes,

show me something sensational!

Playback!

* When you're... *

Flat!

Pitch, baby, pitch.

* You must realize *

* Smoke gets in your eyes... *

Pitch!

I can't take this!

You tell us to feel everything,

but you don't feel anything.

I can't... I can't do this.

Layla.

What?

Rehearsal's not over.

Layla, wait!

Playback!

* They asked me how I knew *

* My true love was true *

* Oh... *

Liver temp puts T.O.D.
between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m.

She was Lindsey's favorite on the show.

We voted for her six times last week.

They make it to Vegas for the finals.

Every kid watching wants to be them.

It just... it shouldn't end like this.

Glamorous makeup.

Fancy lingerie.

Sex fetish that went too far?

Perverted idol worship?

Wholesome all-American girl.

Did you do an SAE kit?

Not yet.

She may have gotten what she wished for--

she's an overnight sensation now.

* Who... are you? *

* Who, who, who, who? *

* Who... are you? *

* Who, who, who, who? *

* I really wanna know *

* Who... are you? *

* Oh-oh-oh Who... *

* Come on, tell me who are you, you, you *

* Are you! *

It's part of the gruesome
perversity of this business

that the ratings will be through the roof

on our final show.

So as a tribute to Layla,

let's do what she'd want us to do.

Yeah.

Let's make it our best show ever, okay?

Rehearsal!

Excuse me?

You're Drew Rich, the producer?

Who are you?

I'm Detective Jim Brass, Las Vegas Police.

We're trying to confirm the whereabouts

of Layla Wells last night.

Can you help us?

She left rehearsal last night around 7:00.

Went back to her room, as far as I know.

Chaperone says she called at midnight,

said she was going to bed.

Where's the chaperone?

Fired her this morning.

Obviously, she wasn't doing her job.

Okay. Layla's an emancipated minor,

but her chaperone's supposed
to be looking out for her,

not pumping per diem into
a slot machine all night.

This means you won, Kip.

You're the champion.

No, he's not.

Ajaya!

Last one voted off.

You're back on against Kip.

We're gonna need contact information

from Miss Wells's family.

Michelle can get it to you.

Now, I have a show to produce.

Call editing.

I want a DVD of every frame we have on Layla

on my desk, one hour. Okay.

If this was a killer that fetishized her,

why not just dump the body?

Why bother to wrap her up?
To conceal the body

during transport from the primary.

It's consistent with those
knots being tied into a handle.

You know, the looping here
looks like a reef knot.

Might be looking for somebody
with some sailing experience.

"Rancho Linen Service."

They deliver to every hotel on the Strip.

Been around since Bugsy Siegel's days.

Which is probably the last time
this tablecloth was washed.

These discolorations suggest that

this has been on somebody's
table a long time.

What was Layla doing here?

She had a great room at the Palermo,

people waiting on her day and night.

You ever been in one of those suites?

Just to get evidence.

I sure wouldn't leave there for...

whatever this is.

Couple of blood drops.

There's no trail.

Probably dripped through the cloth.

These wheel tracks are 11 inches apart.

It couldn't have been a grocery cart.

The front wheels are narrower than the back,

so it would've left two
different sets of tracks.

Something tells me a guy pushing
any kind of cart in this area

wouldn't be that unusual.

That blunt-force trauma
just below the rib cage

is your C.O.D.

Lacerated the liver.

Hangs lower when the body's upright.

Since no ribs were impacted,

she was standing when the blow occurred.

Death would have occurred fairly quickly.

Any indication of sexual assault?

No. However, when I was
doing the internal exam,

I found an embryo implanted
in the uterine wall,

maybe 20 millimeters long.

She was pregnant.

About eight weeks.

I sent cord tissue to DNA.

So maybe this isn't just a
case of negligent chaperone.

Maybe it's motive.

Got a reading? Yeah.

So, the Lock Interrogator says

that Layla last used her key card

to enter her room at 7:12 p.m.

That's right after she
walked out of rehearsal. Hm.

Now, according to the hotel phone records,

she made two calls-- one to Drew Rich's room

around 7:34 p.m. Probably to apologize.

And the other one to her chaperone

to say good night around midnight.

Went to voice mail.

Casino surveillance says that the chaperone

stayed up all night trying
to win a progressive.

From about 8:00 on,

she was looking up abortion clinics.

It looks like she had a change of heart;

started checking out adoption agencies.

Huh. Sounds like a confused kid.

Well, it looks like they're a
cute couple, I'll give you that,

but what I don't get is why anybody wants

to watch that show-- I don't.

It's a talent contest?

It's more like a humiliation ritual.

Well, you'd know about that.

All right.

So, you want to know why that kid Ajaya

with the fluffy hair, sings like a hinge,

why he got into the semifinals? Hm?

Me and 10,000 other guys
vote for him every week

on the Internet.

But if you don't watch,
how do you know about him?

Oh, you know, water cooler talk, gossip.

Mm. Right.

Well...

here's something the gossips don't have.

Okay, there's the humiliator.

Layla left the Palermo, too,

just after midnight.

Two minutes later...

Kip follows.

It must've been pretty hard

for you and Layla to
find some time together.

You know, can't get your mojo workin'

when Daddy's lurkin'.

So what did you do?

You waited till midnight, Dad's asleep,

and you take separate elevators down.

Then what?

Layla was found in a
pretty tough neighborhood.

What were you doing over there,

scoring drugs? He doesn't do drugs.

Or maybe it was to get
a back-alley abortion.

What?

Layla was eight weeks pregnant-- am I right?

And who's the daddy?

You?

The hell it was.

I'm not talking to you.

Kip... Just shut up. Just... shut up.

We're going to need a DNA sample.

No way. You're done abusing my kid.

And so are you.

Sit down. Take him out in the hall.

You can't do this.

Dad... Hey, check it out.

I've got you and Kip returning to the hotel

after the time of the murder.

You're like a team, right?

You're in it together,

50-50.

You know, the contest, the career,

and future earnings.

It's a lot of money.

And that's what this is about, right?

The money? 30 million people

tune in to hear my kid sing every week.

How many people want to watch you?

So you're on the road four months?

How'd you work that out with your job?

I took a leave of absence.

Come on, sailor, you abandoned ship.

You quit your job, got a
second mortgage on your house.

If Kip screws up, you're wiped out,

so I can understand how
you'd cover up for him,

and maybe you're even desperate enough

to kill her yourself.

So I ran that fetal cord tissue
that Doc Robbins sent over.

I subtracted out the mother's profile,

leaving what has to be the
father's contribution,

and it didn't match the
sample from Kip Westerman.

So he's not the father of Layla's baby.

No, but then I ran those
alleles through CODIS and...

I got a hit.

Marvin Fleck.

In the system from charges
in North Carolina in 2002.

Mm-hmm.

Do you recognize Marvin?

Drew Rich?

Yeah, he had sex with a minor--

she was 15 years old--

but then she changed her story,

so the charges were dropped.

Want to bet he paid her off?

DREW RICH: Talent and ambition
ran in Layla Wells's family.

Her grandmother Jasmine
was a Las Vegas showgirl

who gave Layla her first
figure-skating classes.

Sadly, Layla's grandmother didn't live

to see her come so close to becoming

America's next Overnight Sensation.

My mama didn't approve of show business.

We were always fighting

about it, so I went to live with my grandma.

Trim the ice ballet,

give me some more shots where she's crying.

We need to see some more emotion, man.

Mr. Rich.

Later. Marvin.

I left rehearsal around 7:15.

I went back to my room alone.

I needed some time to think.

Is thinking what got Layla pregnant?

These kids might seem like innocents,

but they're not.

They are first-class manipulators

with the survival instincts of a coyote.

I told Layla I'd pay for an abortion,

and she agreed,

as long as she won the competition.

I don't like being blackmailed.

Sounds like motive. Doesn't mean

I killed her. We know you left the Palermo

around midnight.

About 20 minutes later,
your credit card was used

at the Blue Madonna Motel.

I wasn't with Layla.

Her body was found three blocks from there.

You beat rape charges once.

Maybe you thought you wouldn't
be so lucky a second time.

This is ridiculous.
Look... I was with a hooker.

All right?

Layla was pregnant with your child.

That's statutory rape.

Age of consent in Nevada is 16.

No, have your lawyer look
at the statute again.

There's an exception when a person

is in a position of
authority with a teenager--

like "executive producer."

Come on, let's go.

Spermaceti.

An oil found in the heads of sperm whales.

Mm-hmm, and when it cools, it becomes a wax.

The lipstick that the dead girl was wearing

had a spermaceti wax base.

There's been a ban on sperm
whaling for 20 years.

Yeah, which means that
the lipstick is very old.

You know, spermaceti is
not the weirdest thing

found in lipstick.

The ancient Greeks made
theirs out of saliva,

sheep sweat, and crocodile excrement.

Did any of the makeup in her
hotel room contain spermaceti?

No, but there were intriguingly
analogous results from,

believe it or not... the tablecloth.

Take a look.

Asbestos?

Specific type of asbestos called amocite.

Its particles are bound together by

vermiculite and cellulose,

a combination found in spray-on ceilings.

That type of ceiling material

hasn't been used in 20 or 30 years.

You know, it's as if

your victim found a hole
in the time-space continuum

and was murdered decades ago.

Brilliant theory, Dave.

Thanks.

Thank you.

So this was the Strip 50 years ago.

The Vegas my dad came to.

Now, any one of the big hotels

has more rooms than all these put together.

Nearly all the old casinos
that Rancho Linen serviced

have been torn down.

Except for this one, on the west side.

Where Layla's body was found.

Le Ch�teau Rouge.

Man, last time I was this deep in the hood,

I was on a case with Warrick.

Got some track marks here.

11 inches apart.

Same as the other ones I found.

Layla was wearing a pink sweater
when she left the Palermo.

We have a crime scene.

No warrant needed.

If Layla did get inside,
somebody locked up after her.

Wow.

It's like someone yelled "fire"

50 years ago, and nobody came back.

Yeah.

You can still feel it in the air.

Legends walked here.

Louis Armstrong, Nat "King" Cole,

Dinah Washington.

First integrated casino in town.

Place was smoking so hot every night,

they added a 2:30 a.m. show.

Sinatra, the Rat Pack--

all the white headliners and tourists

came down from the Strip.

Place was swinging till dawn.

Then, six months after it opened,

the joint closed overnight.

How come?

Rumor has it the Kansas City Mob

didn't like the East Coast
boys poaching their pigeons.

Back then, there were only eight
or nine casinos on the Strip.

700 or 800 people were here

instead of there, well,

do the math.

This cart can match the tracks I found.

Rancho Linen Service.

Hey, give me some light over here, will you?

That's the only table without a tablecloth.

We've got blood.

Better call P.D.,

track down the owner of the building.

It's time to reopen Le Ch�teau Rouge.

Whose car is that, man?

Building owner.

Ch�teau Rouge, man.

My parents came here.

They still talk about it.

Good evening.

My name's Gil Grissom.

I'm with the Crime Lab.

Well, I hope your people are
taking care with my property.

I understand it has quite a history.

You're too young to remember.

I've heard stories.

Wasn't there a night

when Sammy Davis sang, and the only way

they'd let him off the stage

was if he took the whole crowd to breakfast?

More than once.

Come on in.

Have a drink.

Thank you, but I'm working.

Well, then you can watch me drink.

In Rome, they illuminate
the ruins every night.

The Italians see beauty in what...
what used to be.

It's been 50 years since I've
seen lights on the Rouge.

She walks in beauty, like the night.

My husband, Jules Rosenthal, built this.

Do you know it was the first casino

where blacks weren't
turned away at the door?

Your husband was a brave man.

Oh, he liked making money.

He gave it the best

of everything.

The decor, the food, the music.

It was exciting.

Magical, really.

As long as it lasted.

But it died with him.

I haven't been inside since...

since he was murdered there.

Why didn't you sell the property?

There's no such thing as
sentiment in Las Vegas.

They would have torn it down,
and I... I couldn't,

I couldn't bear that.

Would you like to go in now?

Mm-mm.

You can only wake up once from a dream.

Wow, you know

I have a glitter fetish, don't you?

Lots of recent activity over here.

"Jasmine."

Wasn't Layla's grandmother's name Jasmine?

I think so, yeah.

I think that Layla

was trying to connect with her roots.

I think I got a bullet in the floor.

Impact blew the dust back,

so it must be recent.

Got something else that
wasn't here 50 years ago.

Cell phone.

It's Layla's.

That explains why we didn't find one on her

or in her room.

Last function was "video camera."

Hey, Greg.

Check this out.

KIP Ladies and gentlemen,

Miss Layla Wells will
now be singing for you.

* Here I go again *

* I hear the trumpets blow again *

That costume's in the dressing room.

* Taking a chance on love *

Looks like Kip's working the flashlight

and the camera.

* About the beats... *

Surprised by the sax man?

So he kills her, wraps her up,

pulls her body out of here on a cart,

comes back, puts the cart back.

Puts the costume back.

Put everything back the
way it was 50 years ago.

Sir...

You're in custody at Desert Palm Hospital.

You're being treated for dehydration

and malnutrition.

Could you tell us your name, please?

Don't matter.

How long have you lived
at the Ch�teau Rouge?

Everybody wants a piece of you.

Drew and, and...

managers and fans.

But...

but Layla and me, we just...

we just gave to each other.

She, uh,

I looked out for her.

I cared about her.

I, I tried to make her feel... safe.

Nobody else loved her.

Not like me.

Nobody.

I, uh...

I found out online about
where her grandma danced.

I thought it'd be a cool
surprise to take her.

Didn't you read that part where it says,

"Don't go in after dark"?

I just wanted to get a picture of her

in front of the place and get
back in the cab, but she...

she was, like, insane to get in there.

She pulled apart a fence.

She found some door that wasn't locked.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Miss Layla Wells will now sing for you.

She was so beautiful.

We were making sweet music.

Sweet music.

He was jealous.

Came at me.

Shoved her.

So you ran away not knowing
if Layla was dead or alive?

I looked for her for hours.

All around that place,
and up and down every street

in that neighborhood for blocks, but...

she wasn't anywhere.

Guess she was still inside.

With him.

A young girl is dead.

I did it.

You got me.

Inspired by Harlem's famed Cotton Club,

New York restaurateur Jules Rosenthal

created Le Ch�teau Rouge.

The casino flourished until tragedy struck.

Former Sheriff Claude Montgomery

recalls what happened.

Mrs. Rosenthal said she
thought she heard a ruckus

in the musicians' dressing room.

She went in there,

found her husband shot.

There were rumors it was a Mob hit.

That's a good story, but no.

He was killed by one of his employees.

A musician-- a guy named

Melchior Wilson, a drug addict.

Took the money and ran.

Found his prints all over the wallet.

Confessed to the whole thing.

You actually found a file

this old that rodents hadn't nested in, huh?

Yeah.

The guy they arrested
evidently died in prison.

"Melchior Wilson."

Tenor saxophone player.

Yeah, the old guy we
caught had a .32 long Colt.

Nick ran it through IBIS.

Matched it to the bullet
from the Rosenthal homicide.

Maybe Melchior Wilson

ditched the gun at the Rouge,
and our squatter

discovered it 50 years later.

You know what we need? Hm?

Exemplar wallets

made from reptile skin.

Somewhere a swamp is in mourning.

Lizard, snake...

Alligator.

In the 1958 case,

Sheriff Montgomery lifted a print

from an alligator wallet.

He matched it to a print

from a suspect named Melchior Wilson.

That's the lift card from his file.

That's a nice, clean print.

No serious flaws.

Compare it to this one.

Well, the one you just lifted has voids

from the alligator skin.

The old one doesn't.

That print was never on that wallet.

Melchior Wilson was a
musician at the Ch�teau Rouge.

His prints could have been lifted

from anywhere in that room.

I think he was framed.

Hey, Grissom.

Where on earth have you been, stranger?

Hey, Nicole.

Hey, look who's here.

Hello, fellas.

Well, I'll be damned.

You're two years late.

George, deal him in. Feeling lucky?

No, I can't, Sheriff, I'm working.

What are you doing here?

I was hoping to talk to you actually.

About the Ch�teau Rouge.

One hand, you win, I'll talk.

$500 will buy you in.

Big blind's $20.

Chateau Rouge...

When I was playing the lounge at the Dunes,

I used to make that my
last stop on the way home.

Lived on the west side, then, huh?

Yeah, Sheriff, you know.

We had to.

Vegas was known as
"Mississippi of the West."

Pearl Bailey, Nat King Cole,

Sammy Davis, Lena Horne,
the Mills Brothers--

I booked them all into the
big rooms on the Strip.

But they could not stay in the hotels.

They couldn't even gamble in the casinos.

As a matter of fact,

they came in and out through the kitchen.

You remember beautiful Dorothy Dandridge?

There was something about
her going in for a swim

at one of the hotels.

They drained the whole damn pool.

Sheriff, it's up to you.

Twenty.

I'm gone.

Grissom?

- The women at the Ch�teau Rouge
-- mm-mm-mm!

They had such tiny waists.

And cakes, too.

Ponytails was the big thing then.

They all had cute little ponytails.

Lord have mercy.

And the flop.

Check. No $20?

Raise to $50.

Matter of fact, when they
whacked Jules Rosenthal,

they shuttered that place so fast,

they paid the stagehands

in sugar bags full of quarters and nickels,

and they were gone.

Melchior Wilson's arrest
must have set a speed record

for closing a homicide, huh, Sheriff?

Those were the days.

Turns a five.

I fold.

Sheriff?

Twenty.

You in or out?

Check.

Twenty.

You haven't raised once.

Either the county's still
not paying you enough,

or you're bluffing.

All in.

Call.

Now is when you show your hand, Sheriff.

Dead man's hand-- aces and eights.

Straight.

Hell...

I used to be able to bluff better.

Wilson signed a confession.

Yeah.

But they say some of you
guys used to drive suspects

out into the dessert,
show them a hole in the ground,

give them a choice to sign a confession

or get in the hole.

We got a good, clean print.

The file says that you lifted the print

from Rosenthal's alligator wallet.

Now I examined it.

Alligator skin would've left voids.

You know, in the old days,
the criminals were afraid of us,

now it's the other way around.

Does he look familiar to you?

He's been squatting at the Ch�teau Rouge.

Now, I ran his prints
against the unidentifieds

that you lifted from the scene in '58.

This man was all over the place.

With all the crime that's
going on in Vegas these days,

you got time to poke around in my old cases.

Good to see you, son.

Thanks for the drink.

And we know Drew Rich didn't do it.

His alibi checks out.

Apparently, he's a big
spender on the hookers.

So, how did Layla get punched in the gut?

She came out of the dressing room,

sang for Kip on stage.

Then the old man came out

from somewhere behind you.

To the left.

Layla screamed and ran this direction.

Then Kip dropped the flashlight,

so she probably couldn't see

where she was going.

Matches her costume.

I think she ran into this.

It does match her bruises.

* About to beat the band... *

Her death was an accident?

Why did the old man confess to it?

Why won't he tell us who he is?

What you doing?

These are from

the souvenir program you collected.

We still don't have an I.D. on the suspect.

But I'm thinking, given his age,

and the fact that he plays the sax--

maybe he worked there back in the day.

Melchior Wilson died in prison.

Which leaves these two--

Harry Bastille and Stanley Brown.

We don't have anything on
either of these guys after '58.

No recordings,

no credits, no death records.

Well, hello, Harry.

Mr. Bastille, we know you
didn't kill the girl.

But why did you move the body?

Why didn't you call for help?

Didn't want anybody coming in my space.

Wanted to spend my time in the
last place I was ever happy.

We were all like a family back there.

A beautiful moment in time.

Right this way, please.

Thank you for coming, Mrs. Rosenthal.

Is the name Harry Bastille familiar to you?

Um... there was a musician...

Would you take a look

at the man in this room, and tell us

if you think it could be Harry?

Well, that was a very long time ago.

Please.

That's not Harry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you.

Mrs. Rosenthal, that is Harry Bastille.

Well, you knew.

Why did you ask me to go and look at him?

We think he may be the man
that murdered your husband.

He didn't shoot Jules.

I know, because I was there.

Do you know Sheriff Montgomery?

Very well.

Well, I promise you there is no
evidence incriminating Harry.

You seem to me to be a woman

who doesn't change her tastes very often.

I noticed last night you had a fine bottle

of pink champagne in your car.

It's the same rare champagne
that was found in the room

where your husband was murdered.

Now... champagne usually
suggests a celebration.

Or, maybe, in this case...

a romance.

We had nowhere to be together.

So we took a chance after the last show.

Baby,

you sure we're safe?

Everybody's gone home.

We were making sweet music.

Sweet music.

He was jealous.

You son of a bitch!

Came at me... This is how you repay me?!

No! No! Shoved her.

Harry wanted to say that he did it.

And I... I couldn't let that happen.

I took the cash out of Jules' wallet

and gave it to him

and told him to run... and never come back.

And then you and Sheriff Montgomery

framed Melchior Wilson.

No.

I confessed.

The town was very different then.

And the men who ran it forced the sheriff

to arrest Melchior.

You see...

a white woman could get away with murder...

but she couldn't love a black man.

KIP * They asked me*

* How I knew *

* My true love was true *

* Oh, oh, oh! *

* I, of course, replied... *

There's the people who come to Vegas

wanting to become rich or famous,

and then there's the
people that are from here.

And we know that the odds are
always in favor of the house.

It's what built this town.

You didn't come here to
become famous, did you?

I came to play cards.

No, for real.

I did-- I came to play cards.

I needed the money.

I thought I was in love
with this girl, in college,

but I kept getting into debt

buying cadavers and fetal pigs.

There was no money left for the girl.

Science took the pot.

Well, maybe it just wasn't the right girl.

Plus, poker allowed me to be a loner

and still make money.

Oh. Right.

When was the last time you played?

I can't remember.

You know, to most people,
risk is a bad thing,

but in Vegas, it's a good thing.

See? You paid for your pigs,

you got roots, friends, family...

Well, a work family anyway.

Yeah.

Maybe it's time to up the ante.