At the station, Briscoe and Dr. Greg walk down the hall when Little Briscoe runs up. "Hey! Uncle Lennie!" Briscoe pulls him aside and tells him to "cool it with the 'Uncle Lennie' stuff around the station house." The next exchange is so cute I just have to just transcribe it:
Little Briscoe: "Yeah? So what do you want me to call you?"
Briscoe: "Call me 'Briscoe.'"
Little Briscoe: "Uh, what are you going to call me?"
Aww. Briscoe Major and Dr. Greg walk into the SVU offices. "Hey, Lennie!" calls Munch. He and Briscoe slap hands and say hello. Cragen comes out and says hello. Now there's more ex-wives and recovering alcoholics than you can shake a stick at. Stabler briefs everyone on Vanessa Wong's attack: "Same time, same weapon as our rape vic. They were best of friends." He mentions that there were huge amounts of Benzedrine in Vanessa Wong's system. "Bennie abusers are always paranoid, and they got a lot of time on their hands because they never sleep," says Cragen. I have no idea how that's even relevant, unless Vanessa Wong was found among piles and piles of jigsaw puzzles and half-completed latch-hook rugs and macramé hangers and beaded Christmas ornament kits. Munch tells a story about a DOA case he had where a guy on bennies booby-trapped his apartment and accidentally blew himself up. "We had to make three piles -- bomb squad pile, coroner's pile, and a 'whatever' pile." Now this REALLY has nothing to do with anything. Benson and Stabler shoot him a dirty look if to say, "We've got your 'whatever' pile right here, pal."
They turn to the blackboard, which has a time line chart; Benson points out that Tazmin and Vanessa left the photo shoot between 12 and 1 AM, and then two to three hours later Tazmin wound up at the emergency room and Vanessa was dumped in the dumpster two blocks away. It turns out that Measuring Man's alibi is solid -- "He really was watching football. It turns out he just prefers the halftime show." The fanatic stalker theory doesn't seem likely either because -- well, because they just say so, okay? Anyway, Tazmin's cell phone call records show that she called her mother, who lives upstate, after midnight; then she called an upper East Side apartment four times -- the home of a "Hampton Trill." Munch perks up at the name: "He would be in the middle of all this." "What, you know him?" asks Stabler. "From his novels," says Munch. "Brat-packy little poseur, was published when he was nineteen. He thinks he's the Emile Zola of pre-millennial Manhattan." Cragen tells Munch to talk to old Bret Hampton Trellis or whoever, while Stabler and Benson go to talk to Tazmin's mom, and then he jovially pats Briscoe on the back. "Let's talk," he says. About how much they miss that liquor.