The whirring of a large fan brings us back to the A-plot. So let me get this straight: when the Miami hazmat unit finally shows up, their strategy is to blow the fumes out of the house and into the general atmosphere? No wonder they called Horatio first. We see Speedle collecting evidence; even when shrouded in a hazmat suit, he manages to convey disgruntled disarray. It's a gift. Horatio's right there with him, in one of the rare instances when that "let's do XYZ" actually involves the first-person plural. I imagine they'll hold a small ceremony to commemorate this occasion once the evidence is all bagged. Horatio, who's still waving around the crackling Drager, tells us all that the nitric acid's down to three parts per million, so it's now safe to bring in the ME's people.
Sure enough, the next scene is that of an ME -- no head, no ID, no nothing -- strapping the body into a stretcher and wheeling it off. Speedle's got the hood off his hazmat suit now, and he comments, "Crisis averted." How? Because the Air Elves miraculously scrubbed the environment? Anyway, Horatio's all, "Tell that to his widow. No, wait. I will. I am the Grief Whisperer. It is my job, as protector of all Miami, to bear the burdens of her people." Or maybe he stops after that first sanctimonious sentence. Speedle just lets it roll off his back and says, "So we've gotta find something to lead us to this cook, right?" Horatio agrees that they do. He asks, "If I'm the cook, what do I need to do my job?" Speedle replies, "You need goggles, a mask --" "And latex gloves," Horatio says, finding one. They bag and tag it.
Outside, Sevilla tells Horatio -- who really should avoid the biohazard-suit-and-tee look and stick with the button-down shirts -- that she's got the landlord, James Wilmont, and they'll talk to him back at CSI headquarters. Within seconds, Horatio is much better dressed and hanging with Sevilla at CSI while Wilmont explains how he and a group of fellow doctors are Diamond Sun Properties, and they rent out houses: "We're dermatologists. There are three of us. My partner just removed a carcinoma from my back, as a matter of fact." Horatio asks if Wilmont uses gloves; Wilmont answers yes. Sevilla asks if she can look around his practice, and he grins, "You be my guest." Horatio interrupts to ask, "When was the last time the house on Mangrove was rented?" Wilmont looks reflective as he says, "I believe that house has been vacant for six months. Renters skipped out on us, it's right there in the records I brought for you." Horatio comments, "I've been taking a look at these and the rent seems very cheap for this part of town." Wilmont replies, "Well, I don't make money if the houses are unoccupied." Horatio then swings into interrogation mode: "This one was occupied, though, wasn't it? A man died in it?" Was he paying rent? Then he wasn't really occupying it. That's a terrible transition, Horatio.
Wilmont really doesn't give a hoot what happened to poor Rudy. He smiles ruefully and replies, "Well, I can't help what tenants do in my house, just like I can't help what happens in my houses when tenants leave. I mean, it's an investment." How, in a country where homeowners can be sued for negligence when a burglar breaks his leg, can this be legally possible? Wouldn't this guy automatically be responsible for what happened on his property, regardless of whether or not he knew about it? Why isn't anyone in law enforcement bringing up this legal fine point? Horatio points out that it's not a very well-maintained investment. Wilmont says flippantly, "I am guilty of not taking care of my investment." "And possibly negligent homicide," Horatio adds. Wilmont asks, "Are you arresting me?" Horatio replies, "Not yet." Wilmont replies, "Next time, I'll bring my lawyer." Horatio shoots back, "Next time, you'll need one." Then they whip out their penises and measure to see whose is bigger.