Due to adult content, viewer discretion is advised. I always have such high hopes for the content that prompts these disclaimers -- will we be discussing tax rates? The need to take calcium lest we spent our twilight years snapping our forearms like they're pretzel rods? Car safety ratings?
Probably not. What "adult content" means is S-E-X, and nothing but. Funny how it's okay to show macerated, deteriorated human bodies with nary a warning shot across the bow of the American viewership's delicate sensibilities -- and funny how we can see stalking and violent rape flashbacks without anyone feeling compelled to flash the warning card -- but the moment two (or more) people are shown in a network-appropriate depiction of consensual sexual activity, all of a sudden, it's too graphic for the kiddies to see.
In any event, your adult content for the evening: a woman in a black bra and thong is atop a man; they're engaged in what looks to be a brand-new form of yoga. Instead of concentrating on your breathing, the intent appears to be to concentrate on sucking the breath out of your partner.
We then get a shot of a couple heading down the street in party clothes, carping at each other with the rancor-free bickering of the long-married. Every good marriage needs a long-running argument neither party takes particularly seriously; this one seems to have found theirs in babysitter management.
They come in, and we see that the couple's not going to a party, but to a yoga class, provided that you're still following along with the prior definition of "yoga" from two paragraphs back. Much more adult content ensues. Women appear to enjoy the attentions of men! Men get to kiss women they aren't married to! Nobody seems wracked with shame for not confining their marital relations to the actual person who put them in the "marital" category!
And then God punishes them by dumping a body in a fountain.
By the time Brass and Gil are on the scene, yoga class is over and Brass is shouting, "I told you already! Turn the damn fountain off! We're in a desert ecosystem, and this ostentatious display of water is an affront to mindful environmental management!" Or something along those lines. Brass turns to Gil and sighs, "You can't find good help." Gil replies, "As Lord Byron once said, 'In the desert, a fountain is springing.'" Well, nobody ever accused Byron of being an Earth-Firster. But they did call him "mad, bad and dangerous to know" and torrid love poems to his sister, like "For Augusta," from which Gil just quoted, don't help the unsavory rep.
Brass is unmoved by Gil's poesy, and snarks that this fountain sprung one Vanessa Keaton. Oh, Stephen and Elyse will be devastated. Gil pretends to listen to Brass while he surveys the crowd: it's all the yoga-practicing participants in the adult content scenes. They've put on a few more items of clothing; Gil notes as much with, "That's a well-dressed crowd for this time of night." Brass fills us all in on the party at 43 Niagara Circle, and notes that Vanessa's husband Dan left the party early. He's standing with his blonde teenage daughter Amy. Sara pops into the scene, looking less than thrilled. Gil tells her to snap a few discreet crowd photos. Sara muses, "A gated community, middle of nowhere…if this wasn't an accident, they're all suspects, aren't they?" And then she takes a series of photos. Since all the subjects are blandly attractive, they're more or less interchangeable.