Over at Homicide, McNulty is typing and Landsman is hovering: "City Hall wants an update," the sergeant says. "What do we know about our missing mope?" McNulty hands over a file, and when Landsman prods him for more details, mentions that he's sending a recording of
his the killer's phone call to the FBI for analysis. Landsman reminds him to canvas homeless shelters; McNulty says that he'll be taking Christeson along for that, which earns an eye-roll from Bunk, watching this sorry scene from afar. McNulty shoos Landsman away, and as soon he's gone, Norris swoops in. He couldn't help but hear how McNulty is covering for Christeson -- "Your shit is right, Jimmy" -- and he wants in. Specifically, he'd like a car and some expenses to drive up to New York to question a would-be snitch about a rape-murder case he's thisclose to putting down. And maybe he does a little antiquing while he's up there. Anyhow, how's about throwing a few resources toward your old pal Norris, McNulty? Visibly relishing his newfound role as the Don Corleone of the Homicide department, McNulty agrees to bury the expenses in the overtime file of his investigation. Visibly sickened by all this, Bunk can't help but sneer the minute Norris is out of earshot: "Ain't you the li'l king of diamonds?" he says to McNulty, who ignores him by strolling over to Landsman's office. Norris will be going on the canvas, too, McNulty informs the sergeant, before strolling back past the cubicle, slowing down just long enough for Bunk to drink in his smirk. This just brings us one step closer to the moment where Bunk finally snaps and dribbles McNulty's head against the floor like LeBron running the floor on a fast break, so it's all good to me.
Freamon's on the stand, testifying for The People in their case against Clay Davis, and he's doing his usual thorough job outlining how the state senator routed money from his charities through his personal account and then withdrawn as cash. Funny, because I would have thought that with all the time and attention Lester's devoting to his off-the-books investigations that he'd be prone to a slip-up here, but this is apparently the one investigation in Baltimore that's apparently not suffering as a result of Hurricane McNulty. Another sign that Freamon's testimony is unimpeachable: Billy Murphy doesn't even bother to cross-examine him. The crowd murmurs in puzzlement.
We head over to Viva House, where Bubbles has apparently overcome his shame-fueled aversion to waiting tables since he's now serving up food. Good for him -- nice to see a character on this show struggle successfully with his or her demons and not in the long, drawn-out, gratuitous-Emmy-clip sort of way that other lesser shows would resort to. Anyhow, Bubbles spies Fletch skulking about the perimeter of the dining room and offers to find him a seat; Fletch is all, no, no, I'm a newspaper reporter. "Oh, so you got what to eat then," Bubbles says. Hey, don't be so hasty with the assumptions, Bubbs -- bring some free food into a roomful of reporters and you'll be lucky to escape without any of your fingers gnawed off. But no -- Fletch is just here to observe homeless people. "How come whenever y'all be wanting homeless, y'all come to the soup kitchens?" Bubbles asks, and didn't we have this exact interaction with Templeton two episodes ago? I mean, granted, Fletch is lot less douchier, but still, I feel like we're spinning our wheels here. Anyhow, after Fletch explains that he wants to talk to some homeless people about the killings a little bit but mostly to find out what their life is like, Bubbles decides to introduce himself, and the two shake hands. Looks like Dante just found his Virgil.