Davis tries to spin a yarn that Infante lent him the Mercedes to buy his silence, and then claimed the car was stolen to collect on a fraudulent insurance claim. Thanks to his omniscience, Horatio knows this story is a lie, though the clicking of Davis's jaw is not helping his credulity any. Off in another room, Speedle diagnoses the clicking as TMJ -- Davis cracks his jaw when he's nervous. Funny how that habit didn't materialize during earlier interactions with the police. Clues that pop up at the fifty-six-minute mark -- that's always the sign of a well-constructed narrative.
As we pan across the Miami skyline at night, a lone guitar plays -- I think it's Benny Goodlicks with his haunting solo "End Of The Show Blues." At a peepshow booth, the barrier lifts up to reveal...Horatio. Could we finally be seeing a new wrinkle to this staid, one-note character? A little bit of deviant behavior or character flaw to help flesh out what, up until now, has been a painfully uninteresting performance? Nope. Horatio's back at the peepshow to scare some poor stripper straight. He drops a couple of c-notes into the booth's slot. "Well, what do you want for this?" she asks our non-hero seductively. "I want you to take the rest of the day off," he smarms. Why? If she works the rest of her shift, she gets her regular take-home pay plus the $200 you've just foolishly given her. "What about tomorrow?" the stripper asks. "Tomorrow is what you make of it," Horatio says, lending credence to the theory that CSI Miami's writing staff has resorted to lifting aphorisms off of Hallmark greeting cards. Horatio leaves the booth and walks down a hallway lined with strippers, all of them giving him looks like, "Did you bring enough c-notes for everyone, cowboy?" Horatio turns and looks back as if to say, "There's so many of them. I can't save them all. Oh, cruel God in heaven, why I am saddled with this accursed empathy?" Then he buys a copy of Gigantic Asses Monthly and saunters off into the night.