We're back in Juarez, which is as usual signified by shots of graffiti-covered buildings, non-existent zoning, and drive-by cinematography of pedestrians' intimidating chests. And after Steven Soderbergh went to all that trouble in Traffic to invent the technique of shooting the entire country through a jar of piss. Ruiz and Cross are entering the military compound that is the Juarez police station, because Cross has insisted on coming down here to confirm that David Tate is really and truly most sincerely dead. Ruiz says he attended Tate's funeral, but admits that it wasn't an open casket affair. As they enter the building, Ruiz's female coworker greets him as "pussy cat" (oh, if she only knew) and hands him a folder. As she leads them through the station, she congratulates them in Spanish on the arrest. Cross says "gracias", and Ruiz adds that it was teamwork. "And now you're investigating ghosts?" she asks them in English.
Cross says they're not sure about David Tate's death. "She's not sure," Ruiz corrects. As they enter the file room, Cross confirms that although Tate was American, he died in Juarez. "He came here to blow his head off," Ruiz's coworker says cheerfully. Ruiz confirms that Tate had his problems. It seems that after his wife and son were killed in a car accident, Tate fell to drugs and drinking and eventually got cut loose by the FBI. Cross sees from the file that there was a suicide note, but the Juarez police don't have it. And Tate was cremated in Juarez as well. "His sister-in-law okayed it," Ruiz's coworker confirms. All this uncertainty is starting to get on Cross's nerves. "Remember I told you, from the bowl to the mouth, soup falls?" Ruiz tries to say philosophically, but Cross has no time for that. She says that the body was unrecognizable, identified only by a driver's license found on his person, and thus might not even have been Tate.
Ruiz is resistant to the idea, but his coworker admits that it's possible. "¿Que?" Ruiz asks her as though betrayed. "We have so many murders we hardly investigate the suicides," she says. This is another excellent reason why David Tate might have come down here to fake his own death, if indeed that's what happened. She lets Cross take the file with her, and exchanges an eloquent look with Ruiz as he follows his partner out. Looks like the cat just got its claws trimmed.
Charlotte drives her Audi into the ranch's courtyard, clearly fresh from the hairdresser, and parks next to the ice cream truck. She rolls her eyes at it like this happens all the time, and heads on back to the pool. That's where she finds Tim lounging on a deck chair enjoying one of her beers. Well, one at a time, at least. They clearly know each other from Tampa, and she isn't as happy to see him as he is to see her. She asks about the ice cream truck, and he says, "Well, you know how I like the little kiddies. Joking." Charlotte isn't amused, especially when Tim tells her that Ray gave him permission to stay in the pool house. As for Ray himself, Tim claims he's out running errands. "You know Ray, always up to something." Charlotte seems to know all too well. Hey, sweetheart, you called him.