I think it's fair to say that the moody trees aren't the only thing about this episode that blow, and that non-auteurist stamp whisks us back to the police station, where Albert indulges us in a what-I-did-on-my-forensics-vacation slide show, showing Cooper the threads he stole off of Josie's coat and filling Cooper in, "Either Josie Packard pulled the trigger or she's loaning her winter wear to the wrong kind of people. It's a perfect match." Albert also proposes that the three bullets currently lodged in the back of Jonathan's head will match the one taken out of Cooper's abdomen, because the world was starting to run out of reasons to hate Joan Chen and Richard Gere then was not yet too fossilized to date a woman the age Winona Ryder is now. Cooper hopes that Josie is not the "beautiful Asian woman" being described in connection with Jonathan's murder (though their minds would probably all be a lot more at ease if they sprung for further analysis and realized that Josie lacks at least two of those three characteristics), opening the floodgates for more rat-tat-tat Guy Friday Albertspeak. Here's some now: "Coop, as you know, Truman and I have had our differences in the past. But the big lug's got his heart in the right place, if nothing else. And I'm not above feeling a little sympathy for the stalwart and the dull." The point? "Our Sheriff's got a serious problem with his girlfriend." Uh-oh. Did they just find out she isn't really Asian, either?
Over in Truman's office, the soon-to-be-single cuckold throws darts at a dartboard that has just appeared mysteriously for the purposes of Truman throwing darts at it. Cooper enters, and Truman lets him know that they've tracked down some further information on the drifter: "Eric Powell." Cooper mouths the word Powell, and then rather grimly informs Harry that Powell was Carolyn's (actually, it's "Caroline." In this scene, anyway) maiden name. Which kind of blows holes right through Cooper's much-ballyhooed picking-up-a-random-drifter theory but, then, feh. Cooper returns to the chess board and frets, "I've never beat him, Harry," and Truman reassures him with the most awkward segue in television history since Sandy Duncan became Valerie's kids' new mom in one afternoon, letting him know, "You got a need for a chess expert, we got one of the best right here in town." We do?