Enter Father Melfi, whom we last saw in the pilot. Miguel greets him politely, and the man sits. "Is everything all right?" Miguel asks. "No," the Bishop says, not pulling any punches. "It's about Joey. He was caught drinking sacramental wine from the holy chalice," he tells them. "He what?" Miguel asks, sounding quite shocked. And, while goodness knows, I don't recommend this course of action, every church in the world has a kid or two who's stolen a swig from the communion wine. I mean, it's clearly not allowed, nor is it a sign of pure evil. It's not like Joey's little head is spinning 360 degrees. "I'm concerned, Miguel, as to the reasons why he's acting out," the Bishop continues. Miguel nods and promises that they'll talk to Joey. "Children are very perceptive about the world around them," Father Melfi says. "Even if they can't put their feelings into words." Miguel nods. "I'll talk to him," he repeats.

Across the border at the DEA, Doug Duffy and Delia walk down a hallway. He needs her to run a background check on a prospective agent, a Houston PD detective who's applied for a gig with the DEA. Delia looks peeved. "Background investigation?" she snaps. Doug Duffy points out that it's better than digging ditches. She stops him. "Doug, be straight with me," Delia says. "You ever going to let me work a real case?" Doug Duffy mutters something noncommittal, as Delia badgers him, asking him if she's under investigation, or something. Finally, Doug Duffy tells her that plenty of people are blaming her for Agent Patterson's death. "Listen, you're like a lightning rod," he tells her. "And I'm not taking chances." At long last, Delia agrees to handle the background check.

The first place Delia's investigation takes her is a very amusingly decorated apartment, which resembles nothing so much as Greg Brady's attic bedroom. An entirely bald man in a dressing gown strokes a fluffy white cat. In honor of the cat -- and his bald head -- I shall call the man Dr. Evil. "I'm so glad you're investigating that man," he sniffs. "He is a killer." Delia raises her brows. "Rolando Porter?" she asks. "He killed Mr. Blandings and laid him on my doorstep," Dr. Evil snits, walking into his living room, which is quite entirely full of cats. My allergies are acting up, just looking at it. "Mr. Blandings was a cat?" Delia asks. "That man, whose name I don't care to speak, was always clomping and tromping around up there," Dr. Evil complains, setting down the white cat and petting a tabby. "It upset the kitties." Delia tells him that the landlord told her he'd had no complaints. "Oh, I complained. And I was ignored. Then that man tried to bribe me. He moonlights as a bouncer at some tawdry gentlemen's club. At least, that's the excuse he gave me for coming home at all hours." Delia asks for the name of the club, but Dr. Evil instead snits that he didn't want to go to the club, and that he continued to complain, and that that was when poor Mr. Blandings met with his untimely demise.