Cut to Cavaliere quizzing Charlie the ex-business owner on how it was that his landlord came to be sliced deli-thin. Nicky comes in just as Cavaliere and Charlie are having this exchange:
Charlie: You want some advice?
Charlie: Never go into business with someone you're sleeping with.
Nicky: Melissa Pooley?
Cavaliere notes that the aforementioned bitch is nowhere to be found, and Charlie's all, "Hi, we broke up." He's either moved past the stage where you obsessively monitor your ex's moves, or he's still in the seething rage portion of the proceedings. Cavaliere figures that Charlie was angry enough to saw himself some vengeance; Nicky adds that he's got motive, with the landlord having kept the $20,000 worth of classic video game machines against the missed rent. And I have to wonder: in this age of retro-techno-nostalgia, how do you own $20,000 worth of classic videogame machines and not manage to turn a profit? Charlie continues to spin a story about how he wasn't in the store, and when Nicky wants to get fingerprints, Charlie goes decidedly squirrelly. The big, red neon sign blinking "GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY" probably doesn't help his peace of mind.
Meanwhile, in another part of the Labitrail, Hodges has decided the best way to woo the modern lab tech is with a smooth line like, "You alternate hands when you double-glove?" Mia snaps, "Yes. And I don't like being watched." Hodges thinks this is flirting, so he continues by crooning, "If you alternate, there's more contact between the first latex glove and atmospheric microbes." This observation fails to cause Mia to fling herself across the lab bench and into Hodges's arms. And just when his day couldn't get any worse, along comes Liam to ask about the lab results on Vanessa Keaton. Hodges snots, "I'll have them in five. I'm in the middle of the rest of my life." And here we all thought the rest of Hodges's life entailed making elaborate lists of withering put-downs against the day he'd have opportunity to use them. ["No, that's my life, but I can see how you'd get confused." -- Sars] Liam presses that he needs the results now, and Hodges gives the busily-sanitizing Mia a look replete with sexual promise. "I'll be back," he vows. "Take a while," her look responds.
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.