CSI
Got Murder?

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Rage On, Diary!

Cue the Hot Ray from the benevolent powers that be, as Warrick finally shows up, meets Gil in a parking lot, and quips, "I hear David's resurrecting the dead now." Gil replies, "Our little miracle worker." Warrick tells Gil he's been gone for such a long, long twenty-one minutes because he's been in the hospital checking on Stearns, who's in the ICU with respiratory paralysis, courtesy of some sort of organic poisoning. Gil leaps to the logical conclusion with, "That would explain the discoloration Robbins found around his mouth." The two overhear a car salesman (Joey Slotnick) bludgeoning a would-be customer about the head and shoulders with sales pitches, concluding, "I don't close a deal; I open a relationship." The CSIs stop, aghast, until he moves out of their sight. Warrick comments, "That guy's a real charmer." Gil replies, "Yeah, real Ricky Roma." Hee! Mamet shout-outs are always good for a laugh, unless they include Mamet wives past or present. The two CSIs continue into the dealership, where the anodyne soundtrack is being punctured by the sharp yips of a little dog. The receptionist behind the desk rises -- no dog in sight -- and asks if she can help them. Warrick makes the introductions, and Gil whips out a warrant to search the premises. Nanci the receptionist is baffled as to why they'd be there with a warrant. Gil explains that it's for evidence concerning the attempted murder of David Stearns, and Nanci says, "He had a heart attack. He's dead." Gil gives one of those nostrils-down grimaces that pass for insincere smiles on his part and says, "No, he didn't, and he's not." Nanci's in the middle of standing there and staring in befuddlement when the dog barks again, and she quiets it by kicking over the purse in which it's lodged and chiding, "Gigi, shush!" Then she tells Warrick and Gil that the Chihuahua is contraband. Naturally, the stealthy thing to do is escort the law enforcement presence around with the dog tucked under one arm, so that's what Nanci does.

She shows Gil and Warrick over to Fred's desk and tells them that nobody's touched it since the EMTs took him away -- "It's bad luck." The middle desk belongs to Marty Gibson, and the one on the end is Clyde Hinton. Warrick looks at the half-eaten sandwich, the half-filled cup of coffee, and the countless chewing-gum wrappers and chewed-on pens, and comments unenthusiastically, "The poison could have come from any of these things here." Gil asks, "Oral fixation, you think?" Warrick thinks. Gil adds, "Constant need for gratification?" Warrick takes in the many plaques on the wall and replies, "In every way. This guy was like the monster closer. You ever buy a brand-new car, Gris?" Gil replies, "Depreciation doesn't make it a logical investment." Gil needs to get a reality check with my friend Elliott, who accompanied me car shopping and told me, "A car is never an investment. It's an expense, and the sooner you resign yourself to that and figure out how much you're willing to spend, the happier you'll be." Since Elliott's not around to apply some tough love, customer-style, Warrick will be refuting the investment argument with, "It's not about logic -- it's about smell. There's nothing like the smell of a brand-new car." Cue Joey Slotnick popping through the door like Satan's hand puppet, grinning insincerely and introducing himself with, "Right you are. Marty Gibson." Warrick looks frankly appalled. Gil immediately senses an opportunity for some referential humor at someone else's expense and says, "We're not buying, we're looking. If we need any help, we'll let you know." Marty is not deterred; he tells the unnerved Warrick, "It's not always about what you need. Some times it's about what you want." And then, having thoroughly misread both the situation and the people in the room, he exits. Gil and Warrick exchange one of those looks that says volumes, and get back to work.

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