Cut to Stuart Manslow explaining, "Bonnie had Alzheimer's, you know. And that son of a monster sold her twice a day. Once in the morning, and again that night." Oh, this can be going nowhere upbeat. For one, Stuart's chatting in the dark. For another, he's staring out the window like a man who's already been sentenced. Warrick just stands and stares, wondering why he always gets stuck dealing with the senior citizens who are truly heartbreaking cases. Stuart continues: the dead rat bastard Vinnie knew Bonnie had no memory, and thus gleefully committed elder fraud in the name of bulking up his sales. Warrick asks politely, "And what did you do about it, sir?" Stuart explains that when Vincent started calling him, he played along, then told Vincent he didn't have a checking account: "So the bastard offered to drive me to the bank. I wanted him to think I was weak, so I borrowed Bonnie's wheelchair. He drove me to the bank, pushed me right up to the teller. Oh, he was hopeful. And then he drove me back to the casino...nobody parks on the roof. I would have killed him in one shot. Lousy shakes. But I got him good the second one. Been a long time since I had to kill someone."

Warrick asks nervously where the firearm is now. You can tell he's developed the impression that Stuart's about to kill himself rather than turn himself in, and after a tense few moments, so do we. The monologue about how the world's changed and the enemy are parasites like telemarketers who prey on the elderly doesn't allay that impression. Warrick eventually gets the gun, but he doesn't look happy about it at all. And indeed, who would?

And now, back to figuring out who killed Veronica. Catherine's comparing the tire treads on the leather jacket with those made by the tires they lifted from the yard, and getting nowhere fast. Nicky comes in share the news that the palm prints don't belong to Rafael; Catherine counters that the tire tracks don't match either. Nicky points out, "There is one place the victim was where there are a whole lot of these [big-assed truck] tires." That would be the parking lot of the bar in which Veronica did her undercover work. We cut a scene where lab techs and LVPD people are crawling all over the place, yet there's nary a patron to be found. How convenient! Nicky stops by one particularly excessive truck and notices something wedged in a front tire track. It doesn't require any especial CSI-sight -- this truck and its wheels are so enormous as to make it possible for small dogs and countertop appliances to fall into the crevices of the tire treads without affecting the vehicle's smooth, fuel-burning ride. Nicky calls Vega over, and after peering intently at it, they're all, "Bag this. It's the fifty-six minute mark. Let's bring in someone and wrap this case up."