Cut to Horatio standing in profile on someone's step and asking, "Simon Bishop?" Simon looks a little edgy as he confirms that he is who Horatio says he is. Horatio asks where his RV is. Simon's all, "What RV?" and (Y)Elena whips out the dealer's statement to tell him, "You were the only one insured to drive." Well, Simon just has to invite them in after that.
The camera pans over a shot of the boys' soccer team Simon coached. Simon helpfully adds, "I also coach local boys' basketball and cross-country." Horatio notes that Simon was coach of the year, then asks where the RV is. Simon's all, "I lent it to a friend." (Y)Elena whips out Stewart's mug shot and asks, "Who? Him?" Simon's all, "Stewart Odett. I met him in a chat room online." When? Nine months ago? And his friend contacted him how with this RV request? Or were the producers just planning on driving the RV through this plot hole? Horatio corrects him, "Stewart Otis. He is a convicted child molester and child killer. Did you know that?" (Y)Elena adds that Stewart was about to get sentenced to death ("about to"?) when he broke out. Horatio adds that Stewart was traveling with a little girl disguised as a little boy. That Happy Meal in Simon's trash can is about to be used against him. Simon eventually says, "He said her name used to be Emma. He didn't tell me her new name. I haven't seen them since." Horatio asks if maybe Simon and Stewart don't do each other favors. Simon says indignantly, "I don't molest children." Horatio asks testily, "What did you trade for use of the RV?" Simon's all, "Nothing." Horatio snarls, "You're insulting Me." Simon tries, "Oh, yeah? Well, you're insulting me!" but his playground tactics don't work, so he promptly switches into pervert mode: "Emotional intimacy doesn't come with a predetermined age range. I merely challenge the accepted view that children are non-sexual." Oh, that's going to go a long way with the police. Horatio asks, "What about the accepted view that exploiting a child in any way is a felony? So what do you got, Simon? Let's go." Simon's got clothed Polaroids of Emma in her new togs with her new haircut. (Y)Elena promptly arrests him for possession of child pornography. He protests, "But these aren't my photos! She's not even my type!" Thank you, CSI: Miami, for illustrating every ignorant parent's fear that any childless volunteer working with children is a gay pervert just waiting to prey on their children. Thank you also for setting up the scene in a way where we're supposed to root for the police arresting someone based on the possession of Polaroids in which a child is being non-sexually depicted. I realize that this is network TV, there's no way to depict explicit photos, et cetera, but the scene could have been staged in a way where we never saw the photos, the detectives reacted with revulsion and said, "Wow, these explicit photos are awful!" and then, this would have looked more like a case and less like police going wild and arresting people on trumped-up charges. Jesus wept over this plotline, and so did I.
Back at More Guts Than Sense: The Calleigh Duquesne Story, Calleigh's busy processing evidence in an empty lab, all alone, late at night. All we need is a freak with a chainsaw behind one door, a burnt guy with a fedora behind door number two, and Hank Kerner delivering pizza at door number three. Calleigh gets all jumpy while she pipettes and titrates, and when Hagen just appears out of nowhere to say hello, she nearly jumps out of her skin before recovering. Hagen asks if she got anything off the "31," and she tells him, "Petroleum and graphite." It's gun lubricant; Calleigh tells us, "It's old-school. Most modern lubricants have Teflon." She's about to send it off to Trace for the brand, and asks Hagen if he's going to follow her there too. You know, she could claim she left some evidence on the floor of her bedroom and get Hagen to follow her there. I'm just saying. After Hagen asks if Calleigh's okay, she replies, "Not only did I graduate from the same academy as you, but I'm a southern woman and all that implies, and I don't know why you have so little confidence in my ability to protect myself." You know, it's only because I, too, was raised south of the Mason-Dixon that I'm picking up the "southern woman and all that implies" line and thinking, "So it implies an ability to drink all night and hold besotted conversations where you declare, 'If I'm half the woman my momma was, I'm gonna be all right'? A weird hang-up about table manners? An inability to wear black to weddings? A regrettable tendency toward big hair in a totally unironic way?" I know, I know -- it's all about the steel magnolia, our ancestresses faced an invading army with moxie, blah dee blah. I'm just saying, there are aspects of southern womanhood beyond that, many of them involving matching accessories and to-die-for recipes, and they deserve their due too. Anyway, Hagen claims that it's all about how "my first partner, Ray Caine, worked Narco when he got killed on the job." What, are there all of eight detectives on the force? Must all crimes lead back to Horatio and his dead brother? Anyway, Hagen's all, "If I lose another partner, I get a rep. I've seen guys run off the force for it." Calleigh turns down his request that she bunk in with Speedle or Delko for the night. So he hangs around for his self-interest -- nudge nudge, wink wink -- and not Calleigh's. Awwww. Hagen likes Calleigh. He's going to start passing her ballistics reports with "Do you like me? Check ()yes ()maybe ()no. Will you go out with me? Check ()yes ()no" on them.