Thus thwarted, Hodges takes out his frustration on Liam with, "Good thing you don't have to pass a spelling test to work in the field. 'Funtain' water?" "My people are Norwegian. That's how we spell it," Liam shoots back. Nice recovery. Is it just me, or is the repartee more snappy this season? He presses, "So. Is the 'funtain' water in her lunges?" Hodges replies, "All bodies of water contain a unicellular algae called diatoms." "They're unique, like fingerprints. Those from one body of water don't match those from another," Liam adds. "Shut it -- I know from diatoms," Hodges replies. Oh, he does not. Instead, he invites Liam to take a look at the diatoms found in the victim's lungs -- they're not a match for those found in the fountain water. Liam concludes, "Not even close -- which means she didn't drown there." Hodges smirks and says, "I'll throw you a bone." Liam barely suppresses a grin as he says, "[Mia] blew you off, didn't she?" Hodges turns around, wielding a test tube like a rapier, and says, "The water from the fountain is heavily chlorinated, and no, she didn't blow me off. I didn't ask her out." Because he hasn't had time to construct her shrine yet. Hodges continues, "The water found in your vic's lungs contains polymethylhexalene biguanide, and I heard she blew you off first. It's a chlorine alternative." Liam chooses to ignore the more interesting parts of Hodges's speech and concludes, "Vanessa Keaton died in a pool." "Or a spa. And by the way, that's spelled S-P-A in any language." Hodges says.
Nicky and Warrick are looking over the crime scene photographs and filling us in on the fingerprint deal -- nothing out of the ordinary. They continue to discuss how the table saw would have sprayed blood in a manner designed to put Quentin Tarantino's movies to shame, and Nicky sticks by the contention that Charlie's good for the crime. Just then, a receptionist comes in and apologetically notes that "There's a Mr. Gleason here to see you? I told him you were busy. He won't leave." Her tone adds, "I'd like him to." The two amble out, looking very cool (the unbuttoned shirt-over-black-wife-beater look works for Warrick. I paused the TiVo for ten minutes so that I could study the matter and pass that judgment on to you) and Warrick asks, "What's the matter, Marty?" "You and you," Marty bellows, pointing an accusatory finger. He continues ranting, "You treat me like a janitor, like a garbage man -- I'm a professional, same as you. An unsung hero, worthy of respect." Ah, but you're tooting your own horn, so you're getting musical tribute in some form, Marty. The point to this whole tirade -- which continues for far longer than necessary -- is that there's still the smell of decomp back at the store, and Marty suspects it's a practical joke on Nicky and Warrick's part. No, hide-the-dead-body-part is something Liam would do.