Homicide. By the board, Bunk tells Holley and Crutchfield again that they cleared the case of the delivery woman too soon. They both tell him he's out of line, and the argument is just starting to escalate when Carcetti rolls up, looking at the board and observing, "Lot of names. Too many." "No, we're good with it," says Crutchfield. Ha! I realize he means that they are able to solve that many murders, but it comes out sounding like, "Nah, that's a number of murders I am comfortable seeing committed." Bunk motions to his colleagues, and they all beat feet away from Billy Barty. (Fine, he's not that short. But next to Holley, he's positively Lilliputian.)
In an interrogation room, Crutchfield says that Andre picked Omar out of a photo array. He doesn't know why, nor does he care to know, but now he has a dead female taxpayer whose murder has apparently been solved. Bunk insists that Omar didn't do it, but Crutchfield tells him that they're talking about Omar Little, not the guy who came up with "sixty-two ways for the peanut." Holley cracks up, but Crutchfield goes on, saying that Omar's name comes up all the time -- on two cases of Bunk's, in case Bunk has forgotten that -- so Crutchfield doesn't know why Bunk wants him back out in the street. He vows that, on the next case Bunk catches, Crutchfield will be crawling all over it, second-guessing everything he does. He stomps out, leaving Bunk to beg Holley to go back to the crime scene with him. Holley is dubious, so Bunk sweetens the deal: "I'll give you a back rub that you ain't never going to forget." Holley is flattered -- maybe even a little curious.
Elsewhere, Jay, Kima, and Lester all have folders open and are pretending to read them while stealing glares at Carcetti, who's sitting in the cube drinking coffee and trying to be inconspicuous. After a moment, he says that they should just do what they normally do. Lester and Jay kind of roll their eyes, and Kima drawls, "I wouldn't know what we normally do around here. I'm 'new and inexperienced.'" Carcetti -- pointing in a weirdly, um, effeminate way -- says, "Oh, you're...." He obviously never knew her name, or forgot it immediately, but it doesn't matter, as Kima murmurs, "Yeah. I am." Carcetti decides to let that blow by, and assures everyone that he's just trying to get a feel for "the department's response to the violence," and isn't there as the hall monitor. The cops all decide to take him at his word: Kima leans back for a nap, Lester busts out a dollhouse miniature, and Jay makes visible the skin mag he probably had in his folder the entire time. "So this is your day?" asks Carcetti judgmentally. Lester drawls that when they catch a case, it's different. And, seriously. In a busy job, you take your breaks when you can. There's no point manufacturing bullshit fakey tasks to fill the time just so that the boss man can see you working -- particularly if all the boss man wants to do is jerk off under his desk, anyway.