When we get back from commercials, Donna's at the station with the faithful family retainer and going over her story about the Thursday night in question. Brass could not possibly care less about Donna's canasta habit, and skips straight to the interesting stuff by asking if she administered any help to her dying husband. "More like encouragement," she responds. We flash back to Bruce choking on his own blood as he stares up at his wife. She looms over him sneering, "Oh, dear. What happened to Mummy's widdle baby? Did Brucie fall down, go boom?" Back in the present, Brass asks, "So you're admitting responsibility in the death of your husband?" Donna rolls her eyes while the faithful family retainer rattles off some boilerplate disputing Brass's assertion. He concludes, "She merely delayed in calling for help." A contemptuous-looking Gil points out, "She watched him die." Donna snots, "He had a broken neck. If he'd have lived, he'd have been a quadriplegic." "So it was a mercy killing?" Brass asks quickly. The faithful family retainer is all, "Let's just take the word 'killing' out of the conversation, okay?" Gil takes a different tack, pointing out sharply, "You would have had to take care of him." "Bathe him, feed him, change his diapers -- a friggin' gift from God to him. See, the thing is, I just didn't want Bruce to have the satisfaction of being helpless for the rest of his life. Do you know what the last words I said to him were? You lose." Gil cocks a judgmental eyebrow while Brass actually focuses on solving the case by asking, "So, you. Not so much with the nurturing, huh?" Donna snaps, "Love. Honor. Cherish. Diapering was never on the list." And, by the sounds of the tender perimortem goodbye, love, honor and cherish had checked out a while back too. Let's hope the vows were farsighted and also included spite, scorn and callousness.
Gil's kind of interested in how one responds when one's married to a 250-pound baby. Answer: by shutting down. Donna says, "Look, I'm sorry, but you can't have sex with a man after you've seen him...behave like that. So in order to save our marriage, we had, uh, an arrangement. On Thursday nights, I go to the club with my friends, he hires a babysitter." Who the babysitter is doesn't concern her; so far as she's concerned, it was only a small variation of the piece-on-the-side routine that some magnates regard as their birthright. Brass asks, "Why didn't you leave him?" and Donna gives him a regretful look before answering, "Nobody leaves Bruce." Brass suggests that maybe Donna got Bruce to leave her by pushing him off the balcony. Which would totally not jibe with the timeline Grasshopper, Adopted Son Number Three and Warrick established from the security logs, but why let the facts get in the way of a good interrogation? Donna points out, "He'd already fallen when I got home. I turned him over, I watched him die. I got rid of his diaper. I rolled up the carpet, I changed my clothes, then I called 911. And I should have left him in the damn diaper! I don't know what I was protecting!" "Your reputation," Brass muses. "Donna may be an opportunist, but she is not a murderer," points out the intermittently faithful family retainer. Donna closes out the conversation by insisting that her husband didn't commit suicide, but she'd like the police to find the murderer so she can bestow upon their head all manner of reward.