Previously on CSI: Sara Sidel fled the ridiculous real estate market in San Francisco for much cheaper Las Vegas. Warrick and Nick were tied at ninety-nine solved cases apiece until Warrick made several errors in judgment on the same night Nick happened to solve a case; Nick got a promotion.

And now...time for CSI, brought to you courtesy of yours truly, and the IV drip filled with DayQuil. Stupid fall colds.

We open on what looks like Lake Mead, at night. Two men are in a small dinghy, fishing. Something bumps against the hull of the boat. "What the hell was that?" Man #1 asks. "Probably one of those eight-foot carp," replies the other. They're pretty sanguine about this, which is surprising given what cool things one could do with an eight-foot carp, like build a giant koi pond, or prepare gefilte fish for all of Reno. These guys, however, view eight-foot carp as freaks of nature -- and rightly so -- and decide to vacate the premises before the episode turns into a bad Jaws sequel. One of the guys tries to start the motor, but it won't turn.

"Something's probably caught in the blades. Check the prop," says the guy not starting the motor. "I'm not sticking my hand down there," says Guy 2, apparently in response to me screaming, "Oh, no! This is how the mutant carp will get you!" Guy #1 decides he'll brave the jaws of the homicidal carp and plunges his hand into the Stygian depths. "I got something," he says. He sure does -- he has a human leg, clad in a red high-heeled shoe. "Dude, throw it back!" says Guy #2. I can tell that he thinks the carp took care of the rest of that woman, and they're next.

In the next shot, we see the leg drying out on a tarp as police lights wash over it. In the cool glare of the floodlight, the skin looks creepy and green; I have the feeling that it would squish if you touched it. Catherine snaps on her latex gloves and crouches to get a better look; Gil's already attempting to commune with the corpselet. Catherine notes that the femur is the strongest bone in the human body, and yet this femur was shorn clean through. "Like a Ginsu through a banana," Gil helpfully finishes. Does Gil actually own a Ginsu? My parents have one, and given the wide variety of animal carcasses they've dispatched with that thing, I wouldn't be surprised if the Ginsu could take on a human leg. I'm digressing -- blame the DayQuil.

Brass saunters up, asking, "So what do you think, drowning?" No, Brass! The carp got her. It's an eight-foot beast -- I bet it bumped her boat a few times, then overturned it and got her in one or two gulps. Fear the carp! Gil, of all people, takes the practical route: "Probably. But under what circumstances? You don't wear flippers at a five-star restaurant. Why would you wear three-inch heels to the lake?" Brass has no answer for that. Gil cracks, "Mr. Watson, the game is afoot."