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Have a seat.
How's the arm?
Fractured in two places.
Gil, Conrad again.
Um... messagenumber three.
Call me back please.
It's feeling better?
Yeah.Good.
So, you must know where he is.
Actually, I don't.
Really?
Okay, um...
Look, I don't want to playany games here.
This is as difficult for meas it is for you.
So let's just, uh,get this over with, shall we?
Okay then, uh, this is anadministrative inquiry.
You and your supervisor
were in direct violationof lab policy...
"Are."
"Are" in direct violationof Lab policy
which states that membersof the same forensic team
may not engagein a romantic relationship.
So when did you andSupervisor Grissom
begin yourrelationship?
We've always had a relationship.
I mean when didyou become intimate?
Two years ago.
I thinkit was a Sunday.
Sagebrush Valley High School.
The Cobras.
He looks like he couldstill be in high school.
Boy, football's gottena lot more brutal
since my playing days.
Yeah, where's the rest ofhim, still on the field?
There's no high school footballfields around here anyway.
What do you think, Grissom?
"Ichabod was horror-struck
on perceivingthat he was headless."
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Blood pool tells me the helmetmust've been here for a while.
Vehicle tire rolled through it.
Helmet has black abrasionson it
consistent with being hitby a tire.
Probably got pinballeddown the road.
I checked with Traffic.
No reports of any trafficaccidents near here.
Uh, Holstein's gettingan absentee list
from the high school.
Head's over there.
Blood trail leads up from here.
We follow the blood.
He say anything aboutwhat's happening with Sara?
No.
Hey, did Sara eversay anything to you
about her and Grissom?
Not in so many words.
So you knew aboutthe two of them?
Yeah.
Hey!
Where's the uniform?
If he's not a player, what's with the helmet?
Maybe he's a rabid fan.
There were all kindsof high school games last night.
Where's s hand?
Got to be ound here somewhere.
The hand--where did you find it?
20 yards away,two hours later.
David, he doesn't repped.
What's taking so long?
I can't get the helmet off.
I better get this ten-cardto Mandy right away.
You hold the helmet.
His face looks like hamburger.
I found the same black powderon his clothes.
Hey, Mandy.
I got a ten-cardon our John Doe.
Well, let's see if it matches
the safe-kitthat Holstein brought in.
Only have one more kidunaccounted for
at that high school.
Hey, if you had a kid,
would you collecta safe-kit on them?
Why not?It's better to be prepared.
Think of itas a cheap insurance policy.
It's just a print card,a cheek swab and a photo.
Then go to bed every nighthoping you don't have to use it.
Mm. well, there's a match.
Your John Doeis Vincent Bartley.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Okay, good.Thanks.
You're welcome.
Well, nothing.I mean, it was dark.
It was really dark.
One minute we're married,and the next...
You know what?Good for you.
Divorces shouldbe like Band-Aids,
one quick yank and done.
You think?
Oh, what do I know?
Eddie and I stayed togetherway too long.
Every decision wasan act of Congress.
It's the end of an era,ladies and gentlemen.
Hampton Huxley,publisher of Hux magazine--
where boys became men,
and men becamemore manly-- has died.
That magazinegot me through Vietnam.
Oh, that would explainsthe lookers out front.
They were Kitties.
Yes, Kitties, indeed.
He was dining with a coupleof them when he bought the farm.
Miss Summerand Miss Winter, I believe.
Every male in thePhillips family
gets a lifetimesubscription to Hux
for his Bar Mitzvah.
I guess my sons will haveto settle for a Cross pen.
I'm sure the magazinewill go on without him, Dave.
What are we looking at?
Puncture wound.
Um... no abrasion ring.
But I can reapproximatethe skin.
So it's probably not a gunshot.Stabbing?
Maybe. Right through the temple,into the brain.
Be lights out in seconds.
It's a crowded restaurant.
Somebody must have seensomething.
Not exactly.
Welcome tothe latest fad.
Dining in the dark.
Waiters are blind.
No one sees anything.
Piece of cake, huh?
Did he just leave?
I think so.
Guys
I'm a dead body here.
Dining should be an experience, like opera or art.
It should feed the soul as well as the belly.
You should smell it, touch it and let it rest on your tongue.
I'm selling sensuality here.
I encourage eating with your hands.
Texture is crucial.
The salty, meaty flesh of lobster
drenched in creamy, clarified French butter.
The pulpy seeded flesh and firm skin of a fresh fig
dipped in honey.
The tongue understands four major taste groups--
salty, sweet, sour, bitter--
and has over 10,000 taste buds,
each with a direct connection
to the pleasure center of the brain,
triggering endorphins.
The anticipation and the release of eating good food
is chemically quite similar
to getting high on drugs.
And apparentlyjust as dangerous.
So tell mewhat happened.
I don't know.
Each one of the waitershas one of those clickers.
If there's an emergency,the houselights come up
and a red light goes offin the kitchen.
Somebody help!
Help! Help him!
Are you okay?WOMAN:Hux!
Call 9-1-1.
Oh, so you didn't see anything?
I'm in the kitchen.
I have two sittings anight, at 7:00 and 10:00,
average 25 heads,ten courses per.
I have no time to pee.
April was here...
and Huxley was here.
Okay.
Got blood on the chair.
Blood on the tablecloth.
Blood drops on the floor,
leading away from Hux's chair.
Stab him. Extract the weapon.
Drip, drip, drip.
And they end here.
Near Ms. Shasta.
Shasta McCloud--
big "M," little "c,"big "C," plus "loud."
McCloud.
On TV, they never show anyonebleeding from a heart attack.
Is that whatyou think happened?
Well, yeah. I mean, allthat Prevalis and diet soda.
I just figured...
April, shh!
He was an animaluntil the day he died, sir.
Uh-huh.
Wait a minute.What did happen?
Well-Well, you'rethe one with blood on you.
Maybe you can tell me.
I thoughthe just fell asleep
like he always doesat the end of meals.
Come on! Wake up, Huxey.
Wake up, Huxey.
Wake up, Huxey-Hux.
Come on, it's time to go.
Meow, meow!
Waiter!
Emergency!April?April, what's wrong?!
Call 9-1-1!Help!April! April!
Michael here.
Code red!
Help! Help us!
Okay. Um, look, I'm goingto need to take your sweater.
Yeah, like I haven'theard that one before.
No. No, I don't meanright now.
No, I mean, I... I'll needto take it before I go.
You know, later, when I,when I leave,
I have to takeyour sweater then.
Mr. Bartley?
Matt. I'm Vincent's brother.
I'm... Nick.
Stokes.
Uh...
You don't needto say it.
I knew when the detective asked me for that safe-kit
that it was going to be Vinnie.
Shouldn't I be talking to your parents?
ny paren.
Mom skipped outwhen we were little,
and Dad died acoupleears ago.
It's just the two of us.
Matt...
your brother wasn'ton the football team,
but when we found him,
he was wearinga football helmet.
Why is that?
It was my old helmet.
Is that how you got injured?
No.
It was the last dayof spring break, and...
I was wasted.
Like a dumb-ass,
I dove into the TangierswaS. pool headfirst.
Fractured my T-1 vertebra.
So why the helmet?
Well, I was a pretDJoodfootball player.
He was proud of that.
That and my dad's dragon belt.
He got it when hewas in the service.
Vinnie wearsit every day.
It's just somethingthat he has to hold onto...
...to deal with.
Yeah.
You know, one of these could'vebeen the murder weapon.
It's approximatein size and shape.
And everybody had one.
Well, something dripped overhere that is not blood.
Well, could've been whateverfood was on the skewers.
ALS will pick up anythingthat's fatty or dairy-based.
Could you turn off thelights for a second?
I'm sorry, but this is a stupididea for a restaurant.
I need to see what I'm eating.
I can see just fine.
Where are you?
Right here.
Oh.
Hi.Hello.
Night vision goggles?
Yeah, someoneleft these behind.
Kind of defeats the purposeof dining in the dark.
Unless you don't comehere for the food.
Mr. Nivens.
Are these yours?
I'll take that as a "yes."
Wait, wait... Ididn't kill anyone.
Then why would your bringmilitary-grade,
night vision gogglesto the restaurant?
A hunch.
Yeah.
Oh, that's so good.Tastes so good
Sweetheart, you want to trysome of my steak?
No, thanks.
I'm all good.
Yeah...
Mmm...
Always bAliciowhen your wifeC.ants
to dine in the darkwith another couple.
You brought night vision gogglesto spy on me during dinner?
Damn right.
Millions of tireswear out ever year.
You ever wonder whereall that rubber dust goes?
No, I don't.
The black powder trace you foundin your victim's clothing
was tire rubber.
It's not surprising.
we found the body onthe side of the highway.
Of courseyou would expect that.
However, I did find some veryinteresting type of rubber.
Okay, Hodges, dazzle me.
Truck tires have 27% isopreneand 14% neoprene.
That's what makesthem so hard.
Passenger tires have a lowerisoprene-to-neoprene ratio,
but they also have silica
for fuel economyand wet traction.
Go-cart tires, or "slicks,"
to those in the know,have much higher levels
of carbon black and oil,
resulting in extremelyhigh traction.
Guess I betterget my go-cart on.
You know,just so you know,
I'm a bit of go-cartenthusiast myself.
Oh, uh...that's awesome.
Have you seen this guy before?
Day before yesterday.
Day before that,and the day before that.
Oh, man,, d he get in trouble?
Are these therace stats?
I.Uh-huh.
u keep record of them?
Yeah, all in here.
People ask for them every day
like they'resome sort of trophy.
Could you print outVincent Bartley's trophy
from the last timehe was here?
Yeah. But I'm notgetting him in trouble, am I?
No.No, not really.
You know, when I was a kid,we used to make these things
out of lunch traysand old lawn mower engines.
When I was kid,I used to make bombs,
and origami.
Oh.
"Vinnie Vroom."Won all three of his races.
Beat out a guy named "Hot Rod."
Vinnie rancircles around him.
Yes.
Yes. Yes, isthat all you got?
Is that all you got?
Is that all you got?Is that all you got?
Rodney went from being A-Rodto being No-Rod.
Hey, there he is,right there.
Aw, come on.Hey, if you guys want to race,
then you guys haveto wear dresses, huh?
Get your skillup, all right.
I need somecompetition here.Hot Rod!
Get out of the truck!
Get out of the truck now!
Get out ofthe truck now!
like running from the cops,dumb-ass.
Give me his wallet.
Rodney Banks.
We're with the Vegas Crime Lab,Mr. Banks.
Hey, I didn't do nothing.
You got quite a mess here, Rod.
Mind if I take a look?
Where'd you get that belt?
I don't know.
Where?I don't know.
Blood.
Looks like things just gota lot hotter for you, Rod.
All skewers accounted for,none of them bloody.
We've got ahigh-profile dead guy
in a locked-roomsituation,
with 16 dinersand three blind waiters.
Give me something.
How about a Band-Aidwith petals?
It's not a Band-Aid.
It's a nipple flower.
What's it doing at a tablewith four guys?
Can I go to the bathroom?
Please, please, please?!
Again?Yes, sir.
Yeah, okay.
Okay.
What's so funny?
We slipped a laxative
in his beer in the dark.
It's his sixth tripto the can.
It's freakin'hilarious.
What are you guys,like 12 years old?
Oh, hey, hey, Curly.
How come you're so prettyin pink?
Huh?
Breast exam.
You know, doctors
without boundaries,if you know what I mean.
You guys, come here.
It's total darkness.
There's two Kitties.
That's four...
They're all up for grabs!
I'm going on amission of mercy.
Who is that?
Hux?
Stop it.
Save it for later.
What are youtalking about?
That's not you, Hux?
Somebody's touching me!
Sweet mother.
Guys, they're real--both of them!
Waiter?
Waiter, we have aproblem over here.
Yeah, I lead Mr. Manducciback to his seat.
He and his brothers hadhad quite a bit to drink.
So it was the blindleading the drunk, huh?
I could do itwith my eyes closed.
Well, did you, did youhear anything unusual?
No. Everyone seemed to be havinga good time.
Until the womanin the fuzzy dress shrieked.
I found Mr. Huxleyslumped forward.
Checked for a pulse,and he didn't have one,
so I turned onthe emergency lights.
Then she really screamed.
Is she pretty?
She hada pretty girl scream.
Oh, man.
She's a Huxley Kitty.
She's gorgeous.
Hey, uh...
Let me askyou something.
Did you wash your hands?
Force of habit; I'm sorry.
Waiter.
Okay, we're going to haveto take your prints, okay?
Sure.
We're going to walk,straight ahead.
Looks like there wassome kind of struggle.
Sticky.
What do youthink it is?
Honey?
The detectiveneeds to ask us some questions.
Hi, Nanci Katz.
Soon to be Ellis.
I'm Jim Brass.
Yes.So, what happened, Nanci?
Oh, um... ask him.
Oh, uh, well, I-I thoughtit would be romantic...
Mmm.
I have not ever tasteda fig this juicy.
Oh, they're so good.Mmm.
It's like they're, it's like,it's better than the newtons.
Mmm. It's somuch better.
Oh, God!
Baby, are you okay?
Yeah, um...What happened?
Yeah. Uh... a thing...
I'm, uh, okay.It's Michael here.
Is... is everyoneall right?
Oh, uh, yeah.
Michael, I'm just...
I'm trying to get somethinggoing here.
Oh, no problem, sir.
I'll leave youtwo alone.Okay.
Uh, baby, where's your...
Yeah?Where's your hand?
Ever since I met you,I've known
I wanted to ask youthis question.Yeah.
One, two, three.
Would you be my wife?
Will you marry me?
Yes. Yes.
Oh, my gosh.
I can't even see it,but it feels big.
The ring, I mean.Sure, yeah.
Yes! Yes!
Oh.
Congratulations.
thanks
So how'd you bump your noggin?
It was dark; nobody, could see.
I wanted to say yes.
Loud and clear.
There's a lot of metalunder those tables.
There really is, yeah.
Way too much.It's not safe.
I bet.
Losing the race
was just the beginning.
Then, you killed him,
cut his body up.
and dumped iton the side of the road.
Whoa, man.
I swear I didn'tkill anybody.
Or I didn't cutanybody up or dump 'em.
All I did was askhim for a rematch...
off the track, whereit really counts.
Yeah!
So your statement is he justspontaneously lost his head?
Yeah.
You know, one minute,he's staring at me.
The next, I look back,and the Headless Horseman
is driving his cngt.
And then what happened?
So why you just didn'tditch the carts?
Christin, that...that girl at the track,
she let us sneak out with them.
You know, mylife was turning
into a horror movie-- I didn'twant to bring he
in on it.
You've been dodging me;it's timeo talk.
Gil, nobody wants tohear about your lovelife less than I do,
but since you didn't handlethis right, I have to take
a formal statement.
Should've been a conversationbetween friends.
I mean, we could've foundsome way around this.
Catherine could have doneSara's evaluations.
Why didn't you just tell me?
We didn't want you to know.
Don't most women like the worldto know they're dating someone?
Where do you get yourinformation about women, Conrad?
Okay, so, when did you two,you know?
Nine years ago.
You know what?
You two need to getyour stories straight.
There's road gravelembedded in all these tires.
Yeah, but no visible bloodon that one.
Got a worn areaon this front bumper.
Some brown trace.
Same goes for the rearofe.
Well, if it turns outto be leather,
it would confirm
Hot Rod's story that hetowed the second cart back
using Vinnie's belt.Got what looks like...
blood on this wheel well.
This is the victim's cart.
Must have been movin'when his head popped off.
Well, another onefor the scrapbook.
Boy, he looks differentwithout hair.
Never knew he wore a toupee.
Oh, uh, it hadsomething sticky on it,
so I bagged it for Trace.
But if you want, we could putit back on for the photo op.
No, that's okay;let's get to cutting.
Embedded horizontallyin the parenchyma
of the right temporal lobe
is a linear, silver-toned,
metal tubethat tapers to a point.
And in this case, David,
the pen may be mightierthan the sword.
Okay.
Okay, thatpen's not mine.
Yeah. Nice try, sweetheart.
Excuse me.
Can I be Lucy Logic for a bit?
First of all, thatpurse is designer.
There's no way I'mruining it with ink.
Second of all, I knowwhere my bread is buttered.
Hux was my meal ticket--kill him, go hungry.
Unless you're in the will.
Kitties don't get in the will.
Besides, if I had touchedthat thing,
wouldn't I have inkon my hands?
Hmm.
Whoever did itditched the pen in my bag.
It was on the back of my chairthe whole time.
It could have been anyone.
What about the guywho assaulted me?
Look, if you reallywant a suspect,
you need to check outlittle miss chef lady.
Little miss chef lady?
Why is that?Hello.
Duh, she's...Winter Issue?
1995.
You certainly weren't hidinganything back then.
Hmm?
Ms. Sanchez, accordingto your fellow Kitties,
you and Huxleyhad a falling out.
It's curious that youdidn't mention that.
I didn't mention it,because it's ancient history.
12 years ago, a misogynisttold me I should eat less.
And today, I now have a hotrestaurant on the Strip
and two contracts forspots in L.A. and Chicago.
"Food Seduction"is a best-seller.
I think I won thatbattle already.
So, did you and Huxley speakto each other last night?
His reservation wasbooked under a pseudonym.
I didn't evenknow he was there.
Mr. Brass,
do you know whyI started my restaurant?
No. Tell me.
Because I fell in lovewith a blind man.
He would turn off the lightsand feed me.
When you deprive one sense,other senses are heightened.
My only focus was on my tongue.
It was brilliant.
And then he died.
And this restaurantis an homage to him.
To our love affair.
How nice for you.
I don't mean to be crude,but a murder is,
Hey.Hey.
So, Huxley had
honey on his hairpiece,
ink in his brainand blood all over.
There were three peoplewho had honey on their hands:
the frisky coupleand Miael.
Two people who had bloodon their clothing:
April and Michael.
And there was a total of fivepeople moving around the room:
two Manducci brothersand all three waiters.
Now, that's a lot of listsfor Michael to turn up on.
He does work there,so there's reason for it, but...
Well, there's noreason for this.
Michael's print inink, on a napkin.
What would he haveagainst Huxley?
His prints hit backto an old work card.
The guy used to be a chef.
A blind chef?
He lost his sighta few years back.
But before that,guess who was his so-chef?
"The man knew his wayaround a kitchen,
"and his way into my heart.
"Michael would spend hoursteaching me,
feedg me... loving me."
So, you're the dead guy?
She seduces me,
steals my recipes, myideas, my instors.
And then she hires meas a freakg waiter.
Night after night,I listen to her
tell storiesof the tragic love affair,
of the poor, dead blind guy.
Last night,I finally confronted her.
I deserve a piece of the action.
At $200 a head,
you're clearing at least$1,000 in tips at night.
That's a lot of actionfor a blind man.
I made you.
You're fired.
We're done.
But why kill Huxley?
Why not just her?
I'm blind. She's not.
But in that dining room,everybody else is blind, too.
And when Huxley walkedin with his Kitties,
it was like a signfrom the gods.
I knew I could destroyher and the restaurant.
I waited till the oyster course.
The shells clanging, and slurping,
the "oohing," the "aahing,"
I knew it would cover any noise I was going to make.
I wanted her rotting in jail,eating bologna sandwiches.
If you wanted to frame Pippa,
why did you plant the penin Shasta's purse?
I tell everyone to puttheir purses and jackets
on the back of the chairs,
so I knew exactlywhere her purse was.
Old cat frames young Kitty.
Kind of perfect.
We found high velocity blood spatter
inside the rear wheel wellof the victim's cart,
which means he losthis head at high speed.
So how did Hot Roddecapitate Vinnie
while racing down a highwayat 60 miles an hour?
Maybe he didn't.
Well, people's heads just don'tfly off for no reason.
Maybe we should eck the scenefor some wires or branches,
or something hecould've run into.
If it would'vehappened that way,
we would've found tracefrom whatever did it.
The only trace in the neckand arm wounds
was rubber from truck tires.
Which was present on both sidesof his wounds
but not on his clothing.
There were blown out tirefragments all over the road.
But we found his bodyoff the road.
There shouldn't be any transferfrom truck tires.
Unless...
What's going on here?
We're trying to determine
whether a steel-beltedtruck tire
can decapitate a kiddriving a go-cart.
I thought that wasan urban myth.
Myths, legends, tall tales--
they all comefrom something real.
If that go-cart was going60 miles an hour
drafting a truckgoing the same speed,
and that truck blows a tire
sending a two-pound projectileinto the driver's neck...
The combined speed of impactwould be 120 miles an hour.
Which is about...962 foot-poundsof energy.
All right, let's go, fellas.
Come on, Conrad.There's always room for Jell-O.
It's expensive Jell-o.
SANDERS I love this.
Well, it worked.
See if we can't reusesome of that.
When did you tellEcklie we got involved?
Two years ago.
Why? What did you tell him?
Nine years ago.
The ForensicAcademy Conference?
Yeah.
You, uh, had toomany questions
about anthropologyfor some reason.
Well, I was stalling.
I was trying to get the nerveto ask you to dinner.
You had a ponytail.
I'm going to move to Swing.
We talked about this.
I know that you saidthat you would do it,
but I don't want to do thatto the team.
Besides...
I am sure that I could usemore daylight in my life.
We should go.
Yeah.
Whoo!
You, uh, you want a ride?
Wish I could.
What about you, Ricky Bobby?
No, thanks,I like to watch.
Okay.
You should go.
Yeah?Yeah, you should go.
Okay.
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