( rhythmic, mechanical beeping ) Back it in. Back it in. Back it in. Back it in. Whoa. You're good. You're good. ( indistinct chatter ) ( sighs ) Hey, Harlan. Special delivery. Fresh shipment in from Nebraska. Great. Just stack it in the freezer, will you? I got to open up. All right, you got it, boss. ( machines whirring on )
( lights buzzing ) ( mechanical rattling and clicking ) ( clicking )
Ever wonder what's in that hot dog? Human body in a meat grinder. Shop foreman found an arm. The rest of him is prime grade A sirloin. Body in a meat grinder. Sounds kind of Mob-ish, except they left town in the '80s. The last guy to operate the meat grinder is this guy over here. Manny Saldano, age 37. Worked for Meteor for 11 years. Shop foreman vouches for him. Says he inspected all three of his machines before he clocked him out. Well, keep him here. before he clocked him out. Well, keep him here. We're going to need to process him. Sure. Check out the smorg-ie-bord. Go ahead. ( garbled radio transmission ) 'Cause they're gonna want to see a list of... Right here. This was... BRASS: Mike. Watch your step. Good God. ( sighs ) Looks like the elbow got stuck in the blade.
Yup, the ulna. One of the strongest bones in the body. Probably what jammed this grinder. Possibly why whoever did this didn't finish the job.
It's like that Morrissey album-- "Meat Is Murder." ( grunting ) I'm going to need a hand.
♪ Who... are you? ♪ ♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪ ♪ Who... are you? ♪ ♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪ ♪ I really wanna know ♪ ♪ Who... are you? ♪ ♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪ ♪ Who... ♪ ♪ Come on, tell me who are you, you, you ♪ ♪ Oh, you! ♪
( garbled radio transmission ) The last remains of John Doe. ( scoffs ) We're going to need sifters. Blood's everywhere. Phenolphthalein and Luminol are useless. We're going to have to dismantle this piece by piece. Yeah. I'll get a foreman. I think I can handle this. You know about meat grinders? Well, everything's pretty much plumbing. Male into female parts. Righty tighty, lefty loosey.
Grinder plate.
Blade.
( grunts ) The worm.
Found an ear plug. Ear wax is ripe with DNA. Except... all the employees wear them. This one's different than the ones they use. Whoever wore this brought it with them. We just have to find out whose ear it fits.
Girl's name is Linda Damen, 23, apparent suicide. Father stopped by with dinner, found her dead, called 911. No signs of forced entry? Nope. Did find her wallet out. ( siren blaring ) Did find her wallet out. ( siren blaring ) Empty. Hmm. Empty? Maybe she was just broke.
Hey.
SIDLE: Hey. You guys are fast. Yeah. You pronounce? 7:20. Coroner will be able to tell you more. Looks like she bled out. Her left wrist is transected. SIDLE: It's atypical for a female. Women usually commit suicide in the tub. It's easier cleanup for whoever's left behind. Yeah.
Warrick.
Did her parents say whether she was living with a man? Was dating a Brody Jones. No idea where he works or lives.
Did someone move her? She was propped up when we got here. I checked for vitals. You sure with all your life-saving efforts you didn't move her? Hey, man, like I said, I checked for vitals. It's okay, baby.
( scoffs ) The victim had no response. I had no reason to move her. Well, someone moved her. She bled out here, and she's dead there.
( sighing ) I'm going to hit the road... baby. I'm sorry.
There's a stain here. So cold stains. Is it recent?
It's cool to the touch, yeah.
Sara. I think our suicide just became suspicious circs.
Since I'm the one who always seems to state the obvious, this arm was dead before it was hacked off. What do you make of the, uh, scar tissue on the palm? Occupational hazard, maybe. I see this kind of thing a lot in bricklayers, plumbers, uh, carpenters. Looks like it's blistered. Gradual denaturation of the proteins in the epithelials. resulting in general scarring on the palm or surface.
I'll send this sample to trace.
Tips of the fingers look like they're worn to the bone. Can you get a partial?
Much more than that. Lansberry's Ridge Builder.
One application to the bulbs of the fingers, and the ridges plump out temporarily like a Chia Pet on steroids.
Petrov Samsko. Non-gaming sheriff's permit, head chef, DeBreff Restaurant. Chef-- that would explain the burn scar tissue on his palm. It's "DeBreff." It's a five-star restaurant. I've eaten there. Good, maybe you can get us a table. BROWN: Different sole, different size. Thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience. It's just a standard procedure. Do you have any idea where your daughter's boyfriend works? Well, a casino. Uh, which one? All of 'em. He's, uh... (clears throat) He's a gambler. Um, used to drag Linda out, keep her up days at a time. Ran her health down, her-her spirit. MRS. DAMEN: She was getting better, though. She'd had a... rough time after college finding herself, but she was getting better. ( garbled radio transmission )
ROBBINS: The transection of the left wrist is consistent with a self-inflicted wound particularly because she's right-handed. There's no hesitation marks. Isn't that uncommon for suicide? People usually stutter-cut a few times trying to work up the courage. This woman cut herself with one smooth motion. This DB is all wrong. Someone moved her two feet from where she bled out. What did the tox screen say? Nothing. Not back yet. But I'll get it to you soon as it is. Thank you.
Is that glass in her hair?
Minute pieces of it, yeah.
I tweezed a few for trace. We didn't see any broken glass in her apartment. Round edges, tinted... It looks polarized. Probably safety glass. Yeah. Too bad it didn't protect her. Uh, DeBreff, please hold. DeBreff, please hold. DeBreff, please hold. Hi. Last name? We don't have reservations. We're-We're here... Eh, party of four? Three weeks from Thursday? Let me see. Excuse me, but you don't understand. No, I'm sorry. You don't understand. You're walk-ins on a very busy night. We're short a chef. We know. He's dead. Not only dead. Dismembered. ( phone ringing ) We're with the crime lab. ( phone ringing ) I'll get the owner. ( indistinct shouting ) Are you sure it's Petrov? Coroner made a positive identification. What makes you think this event happened here? We found traces of aspic and olive oil under his fingernails. Means that he went into the meat grinder without showering. Possibly straight from this kitchen. If there was a murder in our kitchen, don't you think that, uh... ( chuckling ): I'd know about it? I don't know. Would you? MAN: Let's go! (indistinct chatter) Hey, Cath? Blood spatter. It's a kitchen. Chefs use knives. That's not uncommon. You are...? Gil Grissom. I'm with her.
Who's, uh, Stephanie? One of my waitresses. Oh, I understand how chefs cut their fingers and how the kitchen help could have blood spatter on their uniforms, but... how does a waitress get blood on the back of her shirt?
We can shut you down for hours or get a warrant and shut you down for good. ( indistinct, overlapping shouting ) Give me till after the rush?
( sighs ) Okay, this rush is taking entirely too long. Sir, the coquilles St. Jacques. Thank you. People always think that the show is out front. It wasn't 'till I waitressed I realized it's all in the back. ( upbeat instrumental music, crowd chatter )
What are you looking at? Looks like a V-pattern to me. What do you think?
Yeah. What, caused by a candle? Burn area seems too big for a candle. Okay. Kitchen's all yours. Mr. Dutton, uh, can I ask you what happened here? Oh, geez. Uh, waiters probably put the candles too close to the wall. I've told them a million times. ♪ ♪ Hey, put those in the drawer. Come on. Ah, excuse me. Stephanie? Yeah. Is this your uniform? Don't have to answer that, Steph. They don't have a warrant. I thought you said the Mafia left town. ( chuckling ) We have the owner's consent. So, again, could you explain this blood?
Order up, Stephanie. Hot items. Two filet mignon and one coquilles St. Jacques. Boogie. Go, go. WILLOWS: Hey! We found blood spatter on the uniforms of several employees who worked the night that Chef Petrov died. Ross Halpo-- sous chef. Lola Creighton-- saucier. You want to tell us how the blood got here? It's my blood. We got a rule in the kitchen: don't touch my knife; don't touch my johnson. I was working with Petrov, the head chef. Hey, hey, that's my knife! Aah! I touched his knife. I deserved it. Okay. That still doesn't explain how the blood got on the uniforms. They don't get it. Chefs here have a ritual. Macho thing. If you get cut, it's tradition that you disburse maximum spillage. ( laughter ) Oh. Yeah, you got me. That's how everyone got blood on themselves. Macho. Haven't these people ever heard of HIV? Apparently not. Alert all your employees. We're going to take over your kitchen, starting now. Hey. You got something on that glass? Didn't beep you to say hi. Glad to see you're settling in, Hodges. You were right. It is polarized. Ultraviolet quotient is very high. Glass is from a car windshield. Maybe she was in some kind of car accident. Hit-and-run... Then she crawls home, gets on her bed and commits hari-kari? Stranger things have happened. If you weren't such a lab rat, you would know that. You got a make of a car for me? No. But... I can narrow it down to the year it was manufactured. Car companies add more ultraviolet sealants each season to stay ahead of safety standards. Used a comparison study of a car that was made in 2001. (indistinct chatter) Your windshield glass is from a 2002 model. Thank you. Mm-hmm.
The windshield's intact. Yeah. (distant car alarm beeps) Yeah. (distant car alarm beeps) Well, maybe the glass came from another windshield in this lot. Yeah. Let's take a look. You know, you can tell a lot about a person by what they leave in their car. Rotten bananas. ( chuckles ) Business suit.
I got a paycheck. Who would do that? Underwear. ( chuckling ) That looks like adhesive.
Still tacky. WOMAN: Hey, hey! What are you doing? That's my car. Crime lab. How are you? Cute picture. I'm late for work. We noticed you had your windshield replaced recently. The adhesive's seeping. You get what you pay for. So the car shop was having a half-off deal. I'm in no position to go to the big guys. Did replacing the windshield have anything to do with the tenant in apartment 325? Linda? Yeah. She did it. I'd send her the bill if I thought she'd pay. She hasn't paid for anything else she trashed in this complex. Like what else? Oh, well, that would depend on her mood. Um, when she's up, she breaks the mailboxes. ( grunting ) When she's down, she throws the patio furniture into the pool. ( screaming ) She broke my windshield yesterday because she said she heard me talking on my cell about her. ( glass breaking ) ( screaming ) You bitch! ( glass breaking ) ( screaming ) You bitch! I heard you! We just call her "the whack job in 325." Well, she died yesterday. We think it may have been a suicide. Yeah? I'm surprised someone didn't kill her.
Look, unless you want to call my pit boss and tell him I'm under arrest, I'm going to work. Thank you. I would like to see Linda Damen's tox report. ( car engine starting ) Yeah. ( car engine starting ) Yeah.
( turns off motor ) Fresh off an airplane from a conference, and bam-- I got seminal fluid. Lucky you.
Some things never change. What's that? Cocaine.
Presence of blood on the drain. Blood, coke, semen. These people were doing everything in this kitchen but cook. I told her. I'll go have a little chit-chat with the hostess. They always seem to know everything.
WILLOWS: Blood clot. What is that, sand around it? Looks like it. What would sand be doing in a kitchen? Well, one thing's for sure: the blood got there before the sand. This was not a little knife nick. This guy was stuck. I mean, uh, he bled out long enough for his blood to pool and clot.
Excuse me. We're going to need all your knives.
Starting with yours. ( clears throat ) I need them back by the next shift.
Well, that depends on what we find.
( horns honking in distance ) Oh, uh, this is the clearest picture that we could find of Brody. Thank you. I'll get it to a detective. MRS. DAMEN: The shoeprint that you found in Linda's bedroom-- are you thinking that Brody might have...? Oh, we don't know yet. We're going to wait and see what the evidence tells us. I did meet a tenant at your daughter's apartment complex that described Linda as... troubled. Did you ever witness her being violent? We like to think of her as normal, as improving. She was prescribed lithium her junior year of college. She was diagnosed bipolar? She's a rapid cycler. She shifts into manic in a blink. We knew she had been violent around the complex. Lithium didn't help? Well, it's a catch-22. When Linda's in an "up" phase, she doesn't think she needs the lithium, so she doesn't take it which then makes her more unstable.
Made. I'm sorry for your loss.
( phone ringing )
That's a gueridon used for tableside cooking. I thought there was a policy against the use of these in Las Vegas restaurants. Ever since a television star from the '70s burned his face by one. It's changed dining forever. You know, those V-marks that we found in the restaurant-- those were made fairly recently. Certainly since the '70s.
I lied about the candles. Uh, it was an accident. According to your owner's log, it was a bad accident. Danny Pasqualle, Italian male model, suffered third-degree burns on his face the night of September 26, 2002. We do special requests for special customers. Um, Chef Petrov made Mr. Pasqualle a Cafe Diablo. Myers Rum, Grand Marnier, Kahlua, and now for the ride. (yelling) Did he ever file formal charges against you? No, that's the strange thing. He... he never did.
What am I going to do, sue for a restaurant? I used to make five million a year. You do the math. BRASS: So after losing all that salary, you never filed suit. Maybe you didn't file charges to keep it quiet and settle it for yourself.
Are you accusing me of something? No charges will be filed, Mr. Pasqualle, if... you'd be willing to fill out a statement to that effect.
The wound on your hand, Mr. Pasqualle? Patterned abrasions over the dorsum of the hand at the metacarpal phalangeal joints. We call it a "fight bite." Human mouths are full of bacteria. A wound from a human bite is a tremendous source of infection, unfortunately. So, what happened, Mr. Pasqualle? You paid the chef a little visit and did your version of "Etu, Brute?"
You don't have to say anything, Mr. Pasqualle.
We just need your hand.
( sighs )
Blade #25: not human. 25 knives in, and I'm bust.
Oh, now we're cooking.
It's not blood. There he is-- dollar slots, wearing the cap. How did you track him down? We showed his photo around. The ATM in the lobby-- he used it 24 hours ago. ( slot machine dinging ) What is he doing? We used to call a guy like that "a bean counter." Degenerates paying 25 cents a pop in hopes of cracking a pattern. What are the notebooks for? It's his results, but that joker doesn't realize that the patterns can end up in the hundreds of millions. ( slot machine tune playing ) You know, the more I see this kind of stuff, the less I picture you a gambler. This is not gambling. This is the end of the line.
( tune playing ) How long have you been here, sir?
Las Vegas Police. We want a word with you. What do you know about the death of Linda Damen? Unfortunate. I need to... write my results. I need to... document them. How did you get the blood on your shirt? What blood? We're going to need your shirt. ( machine dinging )
Take it.
You're coming with the shirt. We'll need your shoes, too. SANDERS: Did you know that some doctors believe that oral bacteria have no other benefits than to make it impossible for other more vicious bacteria to take up residence in our mouths? I knew that, Greg. So, then I should just stop trying to impress you. That would impress me. Okay. Well, results from the Fight Bite Boy. I had to get it from an outside lab since we're not equipped to do bacterial DNA testing ourselves. Hint, hint. Bacteria on his knuckles matches the natural bacteria in the chef's mouth. I guess he settled out of court. You ruined my life! ( grunts ) Looks like he took a cheek swab of the chef with his own fist. Thanks, Greg. Mm-hmm. Thanks, Greg. Mm-hmm. You can see why I might have a hard time believing you, right? ( raps on glass ) Excuse me. ( sighs )
So... our male model copping to battery? He's denying murder. Well, maybe he's telling the truth. The earplug from the meat plant-- we got a hit on CODIS. Kicked out Harold Haskins, delivery man from Meteor Meat. Out on parole for extortion. He delivers to DeBreff Restaurant. So, you snuck in the place to grind up a body? No. I didn't even know what it was till it was too late. Who exactly gave you the, uh, meat to grind? Uh, it was in the restaurant freezer at the DeBreff. You see my face? This is me almost believing you. Now, I've already violated your parole, so whatever I say to the judge is up to you. So, what is it? ( sighs ) It was Ross, the sous chef.
I owed him $3,000 for coke. He said I could pay him back with the favor. You ground up a body as a favor? It was already dead. It's not like I killed him. That's a very tenuous distinction. Stay right there. That's a filet, not a porterhouse. Sorry, Chef. That's a filet, not a porterhouse. Sorry, Chef. I'm a sous chef. 20 guys are into me for recreational substances. It doesn't mean they'd cut a body up for me. Ground it up. We're thinking that you did the actual filleting. Never happened. Ask any of the guys. We have. They won't talk. Military calls it "Code Red." Fierce loyalty to the top dog. I guess Petrov was that until somebody killed him. His tragedy is your promotion?
Excuse me. We're in the middle of a rush here. Customers don't forgive a cold meal or a late one. I bet they'd forgive a murder, Les. Hey, do you guys serve mutton? What? Mutton. It's from the French word for "sheep." These fibers look like wool, and since sheep are sheered before they're butchered, I think that somebody was cooking something here, and it wasn't food.
Code Red?
( panting ) BROWN: Brody, we have your shoeprint in Linda's blood. We also have a sample of Linda's blood that we found on your T-shirt. Is there anything you'd like to tell us? Yes. Someone is playing that machine right now and is throwing the entire last 72 hours of calculations out the window. Did you kill this girl and try to make it look like a suicide? If anything, I tried to save her. Save her how? I went to her place... to borrow some money from her.
I looked in her bedroom. I thought she fell asleep reading, but then I saw blood. Oh, blood. Linda! Tried to revive her. (grunts) Oh. God. (gasps) But you left her there, dead.
You don't get it. Even as the son of God, I can only do so much.
Oh, I get it. You and Linda are kind of on the same page, huh?
Did you stop taking your lithium together? Is that it?
It's not a crime. Yeah, you're right. It's not.
( sighs )
Bipolar girl meets a bipolar guy. Together, they cut out their medication. She ends up committing suicide. It's almost like bipolar boy is too high to even realize what went down. Yeah. Hey, Doc. I was over here on an exhumation matter. I knew you wanted this. Tox results for Linda Damen. Thank you.
No lithium, just like her parents said. She did have a huge dose of Valium, ingested less than an hour before her time of death. Valium? Yeah. That doesn't make any sense. I mean, that's the last thing a depressed person would take. 200 milligrams. That's more than five times the normal dosage. ( whistles ) That much Valium. There's no way she could have fought somebody off if they were coming after her with a straight razor.
Greg, how's the knife coming with that mysterious smudge on it? I just got the results. Alcohol, acetate and red dye #58. Nail polish. Mm-hmm. Nail polish. Mm-hmm.
May I see your nails, please?
Oh. Well, I'm going to need a sample of that polish. A scraping. Uh, is this small enough?
Yeah. That'll do.
Okay, the, uh, three of you can go. Thank you, ladies. And I've got a table for you. A five top. All by yourself. By the window. Someone will be with you shortly.
I looked into that prescription at the pharmacy you asked about. Linda Damen, the deceased. That was quick. She doesn't have a prescription for Valium. Her mother does-- Jane Damen. 25 milligrams as needed. I think we better go pay Mom a visit. Yeah. Thanks, Sully. Okay. Wools are worsted. 12-ounce weight. That's heavy? Light... weave. Mostly for season spanners. We're talking about clothes? Worsted is predominately used in the manufacturing of suits and light overcoats. The finish on this is a trademark coating on high-end suits. Okay, good. Thanks. Mm. I'm not done.
There was also blood present on the burnt wool. Did we get a DNA test? It's victim's blood, from your chef. I know what you're thinking. Couldn't possibly be his suit. Chefs wear checks and white shirts. But somebody did burn a bloody suit in the restaurant kitchen. A high-end suit.
You have a candidate.
You're the new guy. Yeah. Uh, David Hodges. Transferred from LAPD. ( blows air ) They said I had an attitude problem. Said that I thought I was entitled.
So that sample I collected matches the polish on this knife. You handled this knife. So? Kitchen's first rule: don't touch my knife; don't touch my johnson.
Did you stab the chef? Well, this is the sous chef's knife. I'm aware of that. But when a transfer is made on a blade, it's usually from slippage due to a stabbing motion.
Ar-Are you charging me with anything? No. But why don't you have a seat out in reception? Things could change. Mrs. Damen, our detective found this prescription in your name for Valium. Can you tell us anything about that?
I take Valium on occasion, yes. Our lives get pretty frenetic just trying to keep up with Linda. And you last got a prescription... this past Monday. What does that mean? The tox report says Linda had five times the normal dose of Valium in her system. Because there were no hesitation marks on her wrists, it suggests that someone else inflicted the wound. That much Valium would've been enough to subdue her. Hey, hey, I think you're a little out of line here. I did not drug my daughter. May we have your permission to look through the current contents of your prescription? (scoffs) Did Linda's boyfriend put you up to this? Because he is not stable. ( phone ringing ) No. Excuse me. We're simply trying Excuse me. We're simply trying to determine how your daughter died. Hello? Blouse from your vic's closets-- the stain. The substance is a biological. High salt content. Male or female?
Thanks, Greg.
Mr. and Mrs. Damen, there are five types of tears-- sorrow, regret, joy, fear and allergic reaction. The one thing that they have in common is DNA. We found a blouse in your daughter's closet the night that she died. There was moisture on it. The moisture... was tears. The DNA... was male.
Mr. Damen?
Were you waiting in the closet for your daughter?
We can get a warrant to test your DNA sample against our sample. John?
The... ( sighs ) The-the only way to get an adult committed for psychological help is if they hurt themselves. Or someone else. Everyone Linda attacked was too afraid to file complaints against her. She was out of hand. She was attacking strangers. She was vandalizing property. She was refusing to take her medication, and we were helpless to make her.
It was supposed to be a suicide attempt. ( door rattling ) But then... I heard somebody at the door, and I... uh, I-I... I g-guess I panicked.
I hid in the closet. ( door opens and closes ) And... um, she, uh... When he... Linda? Linda?! ( voice breaking ): Oh, by then it was too late.
I just wanted to get her help. I just wa... She needed my help. ( garbled radio transmission ) I just... She... ( garbled radio transmission ) I just... She... She needed help. Honey, you know. She-she wouldn't... She... ( Mr. Damen sighs )
That reminds me of what my grandmother said a long time ago. I would never believe her. What's that? Crazy people make even sane people act crazy. ( faint rattling ) MAN (over P.A.): Any available technician to Trace Evidence. Any available technician to Trace Evidence. ( rattling ) What'd you find? ( rattling ) What'd you find? Come here. Do you hear this? ( rattling ) How did we miss that in Trace? I don't know, but I've learned that the evidence room is the quietest place in the lab.
( knife handle clicks ) Sand. Right. For balance and precision.
Did you know that to a geologist, there's no such thing as sand? Each grain is its own tiny rock. Fine, glassy crystals... dark. Obsidian, I bet. Volcanic sand. Long way from home. Japanese call it "singing sand." If you walk on certain beaches in Japan, it'll make a musical sound. Never been to Japan, but I've seen this sand before... on the blood clot.
( Grissom chuckles ) "Let us carve him as a dish fit for the gods." I'm going to guess Shakespeare. Julius Caesar. That's your knife. This is the owner's log. "The sous chef gets 89% of the meat off of trout filet-- six percent better than any chef on the line."
I don't think you killed the chef.
You did fillet him, though. Your knife handle slid open... ( blade clangs ) ...sent sand down the drain landing on the victim's clotted blood. It's hard work, carving up a man. I believe that's how you broke your knife handle.
But you didn't do this alone, did you?
A murdered chef in your kitchen. Kiss of death for a restaurant.
We'll never get our customers back. How am I going to get a body out of here? I do for you, you do for me. Code Red, in fact-- protect the kitchen. ( panting ) Some people say the most important part of preparing a meal is the cleanup. While the fillet man disposed of the chef parts, you got rid of your bloody wool suit. ( flames crackling )
How's it going? Well, he's not denying anything. He's not admitting anything, either. ( sighs ): Yeah. Same as the other two here. They need a little nudge. Such as? While they're in our custody, shall we try a little theater?
( whispering ) WILLOWS: Yeah. Let's go for a walk. Hey, relax. You'll be with a friend. Cuff him up.
♪ ♪
Why did you kill him?
I-I went into the walk-in to... to get some lemons. Lola. ( moans ) He played around all the time-- waitresses, patrons... nobodies. But... she was different.
She was a chef. What does that mean? Well, I can't make toast. Um... where did I stand? Hey, beautiful, I haven't seen you all night. I've seen you. ( scoffs ) ( knife clangs ) ( grunts ) ( groans )
Officer, would you take her to Booking, please? ( cuffs clicking )
All in a day's work. Yeah.
You up for dinner? .