Cut to a jump-suited Calleigh at the scene. This must be a bad-hair episode, because Calleigh's wearing her hair a la Alice in Wonderland, which seems imprudent at a scene where there may still be residual embers, if not ashes. Anyway, Calleigh asks if the building's talking yet, and Speedle replies that it may be mumbling something, but they can't reconstruct anything until the floor is clean. There's some babble about the fire -- surprise, it started on the stage, and the pattern suggests it was the pyrotechnics that did it. Speedle's off to collect the fireworks and curtain fragments. Calleigh's distracted from collecting the sound-proofing stuff by finding the cassette tape deck with which the DJ recorded his shows. She's going to try to salvage the tape.
Within seconds, they've all collected evidence and headed back to the lab for a science montage. The montage is notable only in how Speedle doesn't appear to balance his centrifuge, which used to be something of a laboratory no-no where I come from. Once the results are in, Speedle finds Calleigh, but she'd rather show him the audio results from DJ Scorpius's recording. After a few listens -- accompanied by the usual whizzy graphics which illustrate how different layers of sound are lifted and isolated -- they both hear the definite whoosh of accelerant pushing the fire out of control. Calleigh points out that the scent dogs didn't pick up the smell, so it had to be something outside the usual array of accelerants. Well, Speedle's analysis results -- ethanol, sugar cane, and oak tannins -- point to rum. Speedle concludes that the curtain was doused with the stuff.
And now, DJ Scorpius is in the house. After a few seconds of hilariously bad fronting -- this guy as about as street as Disney's Main Street USA -- DJ Scorpius, a.k.a. Mason from Aspen, points out that yes, he knows it doesn't look good that he was the first one out of the club, but he'll forever live with the knowledge that people who paid to see him spin are dead. Yes, but anyone who paid to see DJ Scorpius was either too stupid or too taste-impaired to live, so he shouldn't be so hard on himself that way. He should save his self-loathing for his spinning skillz. We then move on to the pyro portion of questioning: he uses standard 8x10 -- it burns ten feet high for eight seconds. He adds, "Nine-volt triggers it, ignites black powder and titanium particles. It practically burns cold, man. I mean, the tip of a match is hotter. You can put your hand right through it." Calleigh's all, "Yeah, but a spark's a spark, and you seem to know all about it." DJ Scorpius counters that that would be because it's his job to know about it.