Back in the lab, Alexx is finding particularly thick hairs on the victim -- at least twenty of them, and probably more once they process his clothes. Horatio is doing what he does best -- hovering over someone else's shoulder while they do all the work -- until Alexx asks him to lend her a hand and flip the body over. Horatio obliges. Now I know what it must have felt like for an earlier generations to watch Neil Armstrong walk on the moon -- we've just witnessed something never before seen on television. The entry wounds, each marked numerically with black ink, are T-shaped. "Which means the killer used a single-inch blade," Horatio says, and boy, we need a TMICam shot of said knife penetrating the skin like we need an eight-inch serrated blade stuck in our backs. Alexx reveals that the first stab slipped right between the victim's ribs and punctured the left lung, filling it with blood -- thus, that blood spit-take we were treated to earlier. And treated to again, courtesy of the FlashbackCam. Thanks, CBS! I wasn't hungry anyhow. The second stab chipped the fifth vertebrae and severed the victim's spinal cord, which, if the TMICam is to be believed, is normally coursing with bolts of electrical energy. "There's your cause of death," Horatio says. "Lights out, my friend." The body, stunned into silence by Horatio's witty banter, offers no rebuttal.
While Horatio's busy trying out one-liners for the next Schwarzenegger picture, Calleigh's hard at work trying to discern the murder weapon. She's narrowed it down to three -- the Gryphon M35, a recon with a tanto point, and whatever knife was used to apply the eight layers of clown make-up currently covering her face. Or an Echelon MPT. Yeah, probably that's what she said instead. Horatio ponders whether the killer was in the military, or perhaps a rogue SWAT team member bent on ridding the world of all Eastern European masturbators with bad teeth. Calleigh points out that the knife is weapons-grade "and that whoever owns it didn't get it to play mumblety-peg." For younger viewers who don't understand the reference, mumblety-peg is an old-time children's game, in which players toss a jackknife in various and sundry ways with the goal being to get the blade to stick into the ground. This game was apparently much more popular back in the days when children were better armed and lawyers didn't roam the countryside searching for class-action suits. Looking at the peephole in the door, Horatio points out that he's about six feet tall, which would make the killer the same height. Oh Lord, please let Horatio be implicated in this grizzly murder -- and let him be arrested by a blowhard CSI who pooh-poohs evidence-gathering in favor of trusting his gut. That'd be ironic enough for an O. Henry story, except that in O. Henry stories, the writing is actually good. Anyhow, while visions of Horatio being led off in leg irons dance in my head, Horatio and Calleigh figure out that the killer was right-handed and deduce how he leaned in to hide his knife-wielding from the other porn store patrons. Their flashback is about as interesting as I made it sound. "Now, people don't make a lot of eye contact in a place like this," Horatio says, "so even if he was detected, someone might just think he was wasted." Calleigh suggests that the killer definitely knew his way around the place. "There's a reason the Italians call it 'little death,'" Horatio responds. First off, it's the French who call it that. Second off, what the hell does that have to do with anything Calleigh just said? Third off, what's with all the witty bon mots this week, H? Toning up the snappy patter for Jade II: Sex Crime Boogaloo?