That night, Michael is in the loft listening to his short and fairly useless recording of Damon and Ric's conversation when Sam comes in, apparently from checking on Tim. "He's a Boy Scout, so he doesn't have a lot of experience with this type of thing," Sam says. So apparently Tim's dark side is limited to yelling at models. Sam adds that the cops are still hunting for Tim, plus they just found half a box of bullets in his garage. "Predictably, perfect match for the rounds that killed Isabella." Sam gives Michael the file on the partner, Ric Peterson, a club DJ who runs the audio shop during the day and has a few ecstasy and assault raps on his sheet, but no visible connection to Damon. "They're not exactly itching to break the law again," Sam says. Michael pretty much says that's just too bad.
"Law enforcement cover IDs are tricky," Michael VOs as Damon struts through the fashion house. "Pose as a lead detective and you'll have unlimited access, but a single call to the station and you're caught. You need to think smaller." We now see Sam in his Chuck Finley hair and a white lab coat over a nerdy shirt and tie, carrying a big metal case and timing his entrance to run into Damon as the VO finishes, "Nobody questions the credentials of a lowly crime scene investigator." Sam pretty much collides with Damon coming around the corner, and Damon's surprised to see anyone from the force still there, even if it's a lab tech. Sam tells him that's how it goes: "You get some detective with a new theory and the whole department does a one-eighty." Damon is of course curious, but plays the "dear friend" card, so Sam says the new theory is two guys working together. "Looks like murder," he adds slowly, putting on his sunglasses inside, "is in style this season." Because that's how crime scene investigators in Miami talk, after all. Isn't it?