At least everyone can find the root of the racket and fix that problem. It's a professional-quality paint shaking machine, busy agitating paint just in case we've all forgotten that this is the Blue Paint Killer they're dealing with. Catherine realizes, "He mixed his own paint so we couldn't trace the origin of his purchase." And because -- as we've established earlier -- serial killers have a lot of time on their hands. Rejecting society's codes frees you up to pursue a lot of new hobbies.

Like calling the police at your own house and taunting them: "Las Vegas's finest. Nice job. Impressive turnout. Have a look around. I'll be at the station waiting for you." Gil does not look pleased by this invitation at all.

Cut to a shot of a door opening on the Blue Paint Killer. My God, it's Berke Breathed! Opus, no! Kevin cheerily greets the guys with, "Gil, Jim." He smiles, and we see that Kevin evidently grew up in a household without access to fluoridated water. Either that, or he's been gargling coffee nonstop for the past twenty years without brushing his teeth once. Kevin says, in the same mild and amiable tone, "My rule was, if you made it to my house, you deserved to meet me. I mean, how much time did you guys spend picturing the size of my hands?" Gil has put on the glasses and the remote expression. ("Default expression 1.1," the husband cracks from the depths of the couch.) Kevin holds up a pen-wielding hand and says, "Not very big."

Mr. Sobell: This scene is not so chilling as --
Sobell: The first time we met Horatio?
Mr. Sobell: Yes. But it's also not so chilling as the writers would like it to be.
Sobell: And I agree, but I'm wondering if that's intentional, because it seems evident that Kevin's hoping to control the scene and have a big dramatic moment, and he's not getting that satisfaction.
Mr. Sobell: Well, the music's trying to be creepy and failing.
Sobell: The music tries to be a lot of things and fails. I'm digging this scene, okay?
Mr. Sobell: I just think it's a shame Courteney Cox drove David Arquette to kill like that.

And then we cease debating the merits of the scene and keep watching as Kevin keeps talking. He explains, "You don't need big hands, though. Not the way I do it. Just a little at a time." Gil tries to wipe off the disgusted look before replying, "Take life, give it back...God-like." Kevin begs to differ, then adds, "There must be something angelic in the way I look. 'Cause even in the last breath, they didn't think I'd do it." Maybe they were hoping a real serial killer would come along and finish the job, Kevin. He more or less groks that sentiment by asking Gil, "Am I disappointing you guys?" Frankly, yes. Can you even twirl your moustache? Kevin asks if we wish he were scarier. Why? Did you bring masks? A list of Bush administration Supreme Court nominees? Gil takes off his glasses and casually asks Kevin what happened to his.