Hacienda Del Whack Job. Jo-Jo The Sack-Faced Boy and Speedle wander in to find Spineless, Smirky, and a couple of other students lounging around in the professor's dining room. To Jo-Jo The Sack-Faced Boy's immense irritation, Professor Whack Job had an open-door policy, and all of his students have keys to his home. They'd type up his research for him or handle his dry-cleaning. That sort of thing. Smirky claims some sort of teacher-student privilege regarding their dealings with Professor Whack Job, eliciting a delightfully contemptuous sneer from Speedle. Smirky also scores a bit of a coup by snatching the scene's final line away from Jo-Jo The Sack-Faced Boy. "We were all really close," Smirky claims. I bet she's doing Caruso.
In the professor's study, Jo-Jo The Sack-Faced Boy and Speedle dither with a trash can full of shredded paper before stumbling across Professor Whack Job's torture cabinet. I spy a chastity belt and an iron face mask, along with several pointy things. Oh, leave me alone. Like I know from medieval torture tools. You should be happy I recognized the chastity belt from my costuming classes at college. Oh, yes -- we did cover chastity belts in costuming class at Northwestern, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. Horatio -- wait for it -- gets the last line. "Nice," he sneers. "Very nice." I bet Smirky's in for a surprise when she hits Caruso's condo tonight.
Morgue. "Jade," an autopsy underling ["and a possible shout-out to the assy Caruso vehicle of the same name" -- Sars], slides the rancid, bloated car corpse into an MRI-type machine so Alexx can determine the gentleman's cause of death. Whoever filmed this bit has a thing for Khandi Alexander's lips, by the way. Especially when they're pressed close to something phallic like a microphone. Alexx instructs Jade on proper corpse positioning through said microphone from a nearby room. The TMICam takes us through layers of scalp to reveal, as Alexx puts it, a "circular fracture of the cranial vault." In other words, Rancid Man got bonked on the head. Token finds this intriguing.
CSI Garage. Token and soon-to-be-exiled-to-Chicago Megan rifle through Rancid Man's car. Much as I hate to admit this, she'll fit right in here in the Windy City with that mullet of hers. Ew. Anyway, someone apparently stripped the body before transferring it to a gurney, as Megan's delicately picking items of water- and fluid-soaked clothing from the trunk while Token examines the interior. A dashboard figurine was removed shortly before the car sank. In fact, all personal items appear to have been removed, leading Token to propose that he identify the owner through the car's VIN number. In Rancid Man's rancid clothing, Megan's discovered a wad of paper, a car key, and a buck fifty in change. She bags all but the car key and, sliding into the driver's seat, fits it neatly into the ignition. The two examine the recesses of the trunk, where they find a Neil Diamond CD. Megan has to hoist herself halfway in to reach it. They then spot fingernail grooves on the trunk's interior. The Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity dials Token on his cell phone to inform him that Rancid Man died not from the bonk on the head, but from drowning. The black-and-white flashback helpfully illustrates this, as Not-Yet-Rancid Man frantically scrapes away at the trunk while foul canal water covers his gasping face. Token and Megan eye each other as they slowly realize that Rancid Man was likely a victim of his own stupidity. Or maybe they're still clueless, and I'm the one making the realization. Really, does anyone care at this point?
Lab. Jo-Jo The Sack-Faced Boy swabs a splotch of blood from one of Professor Whack Job's medieval implements and disappears to process it. Calleigh, meanwhile, announces, "I'm all over your tool marks." She's also all over dressing like one of the Von Trapp Family Singers tonight, what with that blouse she's stitched together from curtain remnants and the little Swiss Miss buns in her hair. She glumly notes that none of the sixty-two wounds suffered by Professor Whack Job nicked bones or cartilage, so rather than matching the implements to corresponding marks on Whack Job's body, she's going to have to work something Speedle calls "wound comparison." This involves making clay impressions of each implement's unique pattern. Calleigh proceeds to have far too much fun with maces and such while, over in another part of the lab, poor Speedle painstakingly pieces together the shredded documents found in Whack Job's study. Wait a minute. Why bother right away with this sort of document reconstruction? Wouldn't Speedle have commandeered Whack Job's home and office computers and run searches on the hard drives first? I suppose watching someone staring at a monitor doesn't make for the same sort of compelling television that watching someone puzzle together thin strips of paper does. Except that neither option is particularly compelling, and they stare at monitors all the damn time on this show. Whatever. None of Calleigh's weapon impressions match Whack Job's wounds, and what's more, the blood from Jo-Jo The Sack-Faced Boy's swab turned out to be canine. Horatio: "So what in the hell dug into the professor?" He's nine for ten thus far this evening. Fuckwit.