Gil is now swabbing one of gunmen (he died as he lived: surrounded by tortilla chips) while Sara swabs the other (who died as he lived: next to the cold cuts). The surveillance guy and Nicky watch them for a moment, and the security guy notes dolefully that they're not the most modern store around. Nicky asks how long the security loop is -- about 24 hours -- then asks about the tapes that should be linked to the four security cameras on the floor. The security chief tells him, "They got busted. We never got them fixed. Cutbacks, you know." Not knowing jack nor squat about retail floor operations, I may be entirely wrong in wondering this, but why on Earth wouldn't the company's insurance policy be contingent on a yearly security inspection where it was determined that all the things like, oh, I don't know, locks and security cameras were working? You'd think it would. Anyway, the security guy smirks that they kept the cameras for the door and the registers; all they really need to watch are the employees, since "they steal worse than the customers."
Meanwhile, Warrick the ex-gambler is running his fingers through the large pile of quarters in the slot machine up front and crooning, "Myyyy preciousssss…"
Sara is picking a lead slug out of a pool of rapidly drying blood, and Warrick leans in behind her to say, "This guy hit a $75 jackpot. Probably shoving quarters in his pockets when this whole thing went down." Sara notes that the door was twenty feet away and Rufus could have made a run for it. Warrick replies, "You know, after the MGM Grand fire, they found people fused to the slot machines. Never even made it out of their seats." We know. Then the ex-gambler, who seems to have conveniently forgotten how he was all about the self-destructive behavior vis-à-vis his wagering, comments, "He thought it was his lucky day. He wasn't going to leave without his money." Well, there are a lot of quarters there -- 36 loads of laundry's worth.
Catherine is still interviewing employees. This woman says that everyone hit the ground running the minute the gunplay began. She saw two guys go down, and she says, "I took a first-aid course about a hundred years ago, so I tried to keep direct pressure on the wound, but it just kept bleeding, you know? I couldn't leave Rufus all alone, scared, dying." Catherine asks if they were friends; it's more like situational acquaintances. She then asks if maybe the kind-hearted cashier saw Officer Fromansky. The cashier asks, "The cop who saved us?" If by "saved," you mean "endangered your lives further by firing a hail of bullets down every aisle" -- then, yeah. Anyway, she saw nothing; she just heard gunfire. Catherine puts on the sad face.