A considerably more sober Conor is sitting and drinking coffee in an interrogation room. He tells Gil and Brass that he's living at the YMCA off Industrial Road, and he's currently unemployed. Conor also has something of a history with his aunt; he was picked up a few years ago trying to pawn a pearl necklace she had reported stolen. He points out that the charges were dropped. Brass twists the knife with, "Sure -- anything for her favorite nephew. And what have you done for her? She was lying in a coat closet for over a month. You didn't call, you didn't stop by " Now I really want to see when that cake entered the picture, because it looked remarkably fresh and moist. Conor says he limits contact because his aunt gets sad when she sees him. Before he can get further into their messy family dynamics, Gil asks if Conor gets the munchies. Conor asks, "When?" and Gil replies in a "well, duh" voice, "When you're high." There's a moment of silence, and Gil pushes, "Do you like cake." Conor laughs, "No, I go for burgers. Sonic." Well, he's not getting any Sonic burgers now; he's giving dental impressions instead.
Back in the B-plot, Catherine is dropping off the unregistered, no-prints-havin' gun with Rich the Replacement Ballistics Guy. Rich takes a moment to express appreciation for the "sweet piece" -- a .32 Beretta Tomcat with a titanium frame and a stainless steel barrel and slide, so it's lightweight. Catherine replies, "Light enough for a five-year-old to use." Rich replies, "Ouch." Catherine then adds that the kid's okay, and Rich pretends he was concerned. He loads the gun and makes the requisite two shots so he can begin running a match on the bullet. Rich finds something, which he announces with, "There's showing up for work, then there's doing your job. Warrick brought in a coroner's bullet last week. DB in Maslow Park. You just found the murder weapon." I wonder if the park was named after Abraham Maslow, and the park designer kept walking around insisting that the park needed swings and benches before it could self-actualize.
Anyway, the DB is one 47-year-old bounty hunter Frank Maddox, who died courtesy of a single .32 round to the side of his head. The gunshot was close range, from a downward angle, and there was no gunshot residue on Maddox's hands; he evidently died around two in the morning, there was a lot of wind -- Catherine interrupts Warrick's recitation of the facts with, "Warrick, your notes are great. Let the case speak for itself." Warrick shrugs and says, "All right. I gotta go see my mummy." Awww. That would almost be sweet if we didn't know he was referring to a desiccated corpse.