Not even the sight of a shirtless Warrick in the co-ed locker room puts me in a better mood. Catherine comes in and makes some small talk, because who wouldn't? She says she was sorry to hear about the case; Warrick sighs and says, "We were so close. You don't even know." Catherine says, almost by rote, "Oh, he'll be back. We'll get him eventually." Warrick kind of nods. Catherine then asks, "Wanna go for a ride?" That's a little direct, even for -- oh. Never mind. Warrick replies, "That's probably safer than anything else I had planned." Catherine gives him a half-smile.
Cut to the two of them walking through someone else's lushly treed backyard. Catherine's explaining how Frank Maddox was faced with the realization that his braggadocio led to his downfall, he couldn't handle losing face, so he decided to end it all. In death as in life, Frank's vanity had the final say; he wanted it to look like a manly homicide, instead of a wimpy suicide, so he attached the balloons to the gun and pulled the trigger, counting on his releasing the gun as a way to let the weapon drift out of the scene. It's almost too bad he didn't have one of those involuntary muscle spasms when he did it; it would have been a whole different case for someone who found a body on the bench with a balloon-festooned gun clutched in one stiffening hand. Anyway, Catherine finds the balloons in the tree where the gun was found. She grins, pleased that she cracked two cases in one.