And now, the soundtrack shifts to the whimsical, so we must be in for a comedy-laden B-plot. It starts off with Nicky and Warrick inside a commercial space being renovated. Nicky asks if Warrick's okay to drive, and Warrick snaps that he's not, what with having worked a triple, then three back-to-back crime scenes. One might wonder what he's doing now working his fifth crime of the shift. Recognizing that there's no plausible way to get Captain Exposition on the scene -- his superpowers are limited to explaining background information, and therefore flying and teleportation are out of the question -- the writers invent a new way to fill us in quickly: by having one CSI ask another to run the likely crime scene. It's Nicky's turn to tell us a story: "Landlord's working late, trying to fix up the place for the new tenant, kicking up dust, paint fumes. Door's open for ventilation, killer strolls in, the next thing you know, landlord's deli meat." We flash back to the random act of table-sawing. Warrick muses that the eviction notice means there was no cash on the premises, so robbery's not a plausible motive. Off-screen, Det. Cavaliere's running down the ex-tenants, Melissa and Charlie. On-screen, the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man has just invaded the crime scene. Today would be the day Warrick and Nicky leave their proton packs at home. Actually, it's some blowhard berating Warrick and Nicky for not having solved the crime in four hours; it turns out he's here to do cleanup. Warrick chortles, "Blood bucket brigade!" and Stay-Puft sniffs, "I prefer 'bio-recovery services.'" Nicky muses, "Funny, I don't see an American Bio-recovery badge." Stay-Puft bloviates that all you need are "a strong stomach, a working knowledge of solvents, a little sensitivity, a little tact -- whoa! Man! There must be three quarts of blood [on the wall]." It's funny 'cause it's situational irony, you see. Like the black flies on your wedding day and the old man with the ten thousand spoons on the smoking break. Or something along those lines. There's some more talky-talky to establish that Marty the cleanup guy is a colossal pain in the ass, and Warrick boots him shortly after we learn that the grieving wife managed to pull it together long enough to retain Marty's services. And the strings of whimsy play on. It's going to be a long subplot.
Back in the morgue, David the appreciative coroner is commenting that Vanessa's one of the more attractive bodies he's had on the table recently. It's nice to see him relish the little joys in life. He then philosophizes, "But beauty's skin-deep. Inside, we all look pretty much the same." Gil's in no mood for small talk; he wants to know from whence the abrasion came. David's all, "Have you no poet in you?" Gil rattles off, "'Beauty is truth, truth, beauty; that is all you know on Earth, and all you need to know' -- except cause of death." As Gil scorns knickknacks like Grecian urns (see all: Keats), so he scorns small talk. David tells us it was pulmonary edema due to drowning; all the appropriate samples have been dispatched to different parts of the lab. Although the abrasion may have knocked Vanessa out, it's the small puncture wounds on her back that have David intrigued. There are four -- small, uniform in diameter, delivered perimortem, and delivered while she wasn't wearing her dress. Ergo, she was dressed after she was stabbed. David then says,"[I] collected lubricant from the labia, which means…uh, I don't know if she had a date with her husband or herself. I sent an SAE kit to DNA. Personal observation: you don't wear La Perla to a Tupperware party." Gil is staring at the lingerie like it's a lacy extraterrestrial. David explains that it's very expensive lingerie, adding morosely, "I gave some to my wife once. She accused me of having an affair. You know -- sex on the steel." Gil now looks actively revolted.