Outside the VIP room, there's a party on the beach and everyone's invited! As Speedle digs alone -- so much for that vaunted "we" Horatio was flinging about -- we see a tequila booth about to go up, with giant bottles being inflated under a gaudy yellow tent. Speedle digs, and then some tequila shill clad in a company shirt and khakis is sprinting toward him. He stops at the tape and shouts, "Buddy! You want to get this moving?" Speedle unbends from his hunched position with a look that clearly says, I didn't get enough coffee this morning and you, buddy, are going to pay. The khaki-wearing tool says, "Hey! Ted Zink, Matraca Tequila. You're in my party area." Speedle asks, faintly and incredulously, "Your what?" Ted explains, "We're hosting a big event for the Greeks. Part of our spring break marketing package: Lauderdale, Daytona, Miami Beach. We take the party wherever the kids are. You know, you hook 'em young, they're yours for life." Speedle is unimpressed by this guy's clever marketing strategy, and says testily, "Sir, can you read the yellow tape there? It says 'crime scene.'" Ted is unfazed: "Hey, I got a permit to be here." Ted is very stupid, because if he were half the marketing weasel he thinks he is, he'd realize that one surefire way to get a facile and fickle market turned off is by obstructing a spring-break murder scene. Speedle says sarcastically, "Ohhhhh. A permit!" Ted's basking in the glow of righteous stupidity: "Yeah, that's right. From Parks and Rec." Speedle wanders on over to the corner where Ted's nodding his head, pulls out his cell phone, and begins punching numbers as he says, "Well, I'm going to let you tell that to the parents of the girl who got murdered here last night." Somewhere in the primordial recesses of Ted the Marketing Weasel's brain, a survival instinct flares up, and he realizes he's walking into a Bad Idea trap.
Speedle continues, "I'm going to let you tell them that we can't process this crime scene because you have a permit for a party." Oh, Speedle, you just made my heart go pitter-pat. Ted backpedals furiously, "You misunderstood me," because "I got a permit to be here" is really Matraca Tequila-speak for "Please, continue to dig here." Speedle's not done yet -- he adds, "Then I'm going to arrest your cheap tequila-pushing ass, and have you spend the night in lockup, with all the drunk-and-disorderlies, and you can smell the vomit of the fraternity boys." Ted magnanimously decides the party can wait until Speedle's finished. Speedle returns the courtesy with, "That's a capital idea, Ted."