We're now in the lobby of Risher Pharmaceuticals. Horatio and Vin Ethanol stride in, and Vin says, "Miami-Dade police. We'd like to see George Risher." The officious little twit behind the counter channels David Spade -- the early, moderately funny David Spade and not the current one -- and is all, "May I ask what this is about?" Horatio practically snarls, "Tell Mr. Risher this is about Belle King." The receptoid immediately says, "If that woman comes by here again, I will have to call security." Horatio asks interestedly, "Why would you do that?" Ignoring the obvious -- if the police are interested what you have to say, you're going to be talking to them about things you'd rather not -- the receptoid continues, "She's, um, a nut case. The woman is crazy." Horatio and Vin Ethanol stare at him a while, and he finally scampers off to go get Mr. Risher his own self. While he's gone, Horatio muses, "Three blocks from where Carl Aspen was murdered." Vin Ethanol gets into the act with, "Three blocks from where iodine 131 first showed up." Me, I'm still amazed they're only three blocks from hot, throbbing party central. You'd think that any company which dealt with extremely expensive intellectual property subject to heavy federal regulation -- which most pharmaceuticals are -- would get themselves one of those fancy campuses in an office park out at the ass-end of nowhere, as opposed to setting up shop in the downtown debauchery district. Then again, you'd think any CEO who's about to talk to the police would lawyer up, then call them into his office, instead of meeting them in the lobby, but George Risher comes out all alone to chat with the flatfeet, so what do I know about running a pharmaceutical corporation? More than this clown, I'd guess.
Before Risher comes out, Horatio notices that a) the radioactive isotopes are roughly twenty feet from the door, and b) there's a new lock on the facility. The freezer burns indicate that the old lock was frozen with freon, thus causing all the pins and tumblers to snap off the minute someone applied force to the lock. Vin Ethanol thinks, "Maybe Risher's in so much hot water already, he didn't report it." Horatio suggests, "Maybe he staged a break-in to cover up." Maybe now is when Risher drifts over, unencumbered by the usual phalanx of lawyers that would be covering him in any police interaction here on Earth. He asks, "What's this all about?" Horatio gets to the point with, "This is all about a murder, Mr. Risher." So much for small talk. They finally make their way to Risher's office to talk.