Bad To The Bone

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Pity The Nevada Traveler

Anyway, we are now at the hotel Walter operated in the middle of nowhere, Nevada. The cardiac theme in 4/4 time starts up again as Warrick hops out of the SUV and begins whining at Gil that he can't see why they have to come, and all the fun evidence is back at the lab, and he's having a bad hair day, so can't they just head back so Warrick can try to restyle his locks? Or maybe I'm going beyond the actual content of the scene a little. Anyway, Warrick points out that the Tony case is closed, and you can't prosecute a dead man, but that's all water off a duck's back to Gil, who quips, "'The evil that men do lives on after them. The good is oft interred with their bones.'" Yup, it's Shakespeare --Julius Caesar, in fact. What, Warrick, don't you remember tenth grade English? Anyway, the two head inside, and Warrick also expresses his conviction that, just once, he'd like to check out a perp who had read Organizing From the Inside Out, only not in so many words. Gil theorizes, "Well, if Walter viewed his world as a threatening place, according to the shrinks, the hoarding of useless objects may have made him feel safe and secure." Yeah, but it blocked his qi, and that can't have been healthy.

Warrick points out, "In the real world, Walter's the threat." He then notes a broken mirror and comments, "Guess he didn't like what he saw." Warrick, take a look in that mirror. Check that hair. We'll understand if you want to take a swing too. Gil pokes around, checks the window to the back yard, and looks alarmed at the wheelbarrow.

In a jiffy, he and Warrick are out there, pulling the tarp off the top and checking the tools it held. Warrick, who has wandered off to survey the yard, finds a grave-sized patch of cement. He calls Gil's name and notes, "This doesn't look like a patio."

Cut to Sara and Nicky at a diner, where, improbably enough, a waitress who gives every sign of having organically arisen from dust motes and griddle grease on the first day of business manages to remember a dish girl who worked a grand total of one day eight years ago. Either the waitress an autodidact who eschewed a life of greater material gain for the glories of foisting iceberg lettuce on anyone craving some food item not battered or fried, or she's really had a boring stretch since that fateful day. In any event, while Libby and her fateful burn are fresh in the waitress's mind, nothing else remotely related to Walter is.

Back at the Hotel Walterfornia, Warrick applies a jackhammer to the concrete while Gil stands around and thinks about the perks of the job. We then see a team of CSIs assemble a staging area and work through the afternoon and into the night. Fortunately, they have a soundtrack to accompany them -- lots of bells and random chanting and a keening wind instrument, so you can feel all world-beatish when you listen. Warrick eventually unearths a skull, and as he brushes dirt off, Gil quips, "I guess there was no more room at the inn."

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