Play With Fire

It's nighttime and there's love in the air. We know this from the diabetes-inducing techno ballad playing as the episode opens, and from the two people currently using the underside of the local high-school bleachers for a tryst. This I don't get: it's Las Vegas, and you can book a hotel room for $20 a night. What teenager is going to prefer grass stains and splinters to a cheap hotel room where there's probably free porn?

Anyway, after some groping, half-hearted protesting on her part -- she didn't exactly say, "I'm not that kind of girl!" but she came close -- and whining on his part -- he did say, "We've gone way further than that!" which only goes to show that the not-at-all-smooth or seductive tactics of teenaged boys on the make are one of American society's few constants -- anyway, for some reason, the combination of wheedling and splinters has put our titular heroine in the mood, and they're off for a little slap and tickle somewhere on the school grounds. Fueled by hormones, they sprint across the football field, not bothering to stop as two cranked-up cheerleaders perform the now-ritual sacrifice of one of their own. Kidding! Just wanted to see if anyone was paying attention, or if you're all skimming to the part where I began recapping Sara and Gil.

So the two young lovers sprint across the football field and up the stadium stairs to the announcer's box at the very top. They're not even winded. As they open the doors, however, the discovery of a dead woman on the floor of the room takes the wind out of their sails. Farewell, young lovers, whoever you are.

In the scene, Captain Exposition has arrived. One presumes he didn't run up the stairs. He's telling Gil that the dead body was ID'd by the wallet still in her purse as the 28-year-old Nebraskan Alison Carpenter. Nicky comments that Alison's a little old to be a student; Brass more or less dismisses this. Emergency Backup David's been working the body, and he begins announcing his finds: "Petechial hemorrhaging indicates strangulation." Gil comments, "She definitely died here." Emergency Backup David replies, "Yeah. Lividity definitely bears that out. She wasn't moved." Brass is more interested in the scene; we establish that the rusted-out padlock was cut and there are beer bottles on the premises, so all signs point to party gone wrong. Nicky picks up a recently-used condom -- the special effects department spared us no details in the pursuit of verisimilitude -- and comments on the lover's lane aspect of the stadium. Gil notes the defensive wounds on Alison's hands. After Brass asks, "Sexual assault," Gil actually checks her groin and notes, "She's not wearing any underwear." Continuing his up-the-skirt survey, Gil notices a long cut on the inside of Alison's leg with some wooden splinters sticking out of it. He then checks out the door, which has fresh blood at the very bottom. Gil figures that the door had to have banged into the body at some point, and says, "David, I thought you said she wasn't moved." Emergency Backup David replies, "Paramedics said they didn't touch her." That's because Hank's still on his tropical getaway with his girlfriend. Brass adds that the kids we saw at the very beginning of the episode claim not to have touched her either.

Gil leans in and notes that there's still sweat on Alison's upper lip, and orders Emergency Backup David to take a liver temperature. Emergency Backup David is all, "Okay, let me just finish this up..." and Gil snaps, "Now, David!" Emergency Backup David hops to while Nicky squares his jaw and watches. When David reads off the temperature -- 98.1 degrees Fahrenheit -- Nicky notes that Alison's been dead less than an hour. Gil says all ominously, "The killer's still on her."

Ah, but who is the killer? The Who would like to know.

When we come back from commercial, Nicky is sprinting up the stadium steps with a duffel bag in hand. Unlike the young would-be lovers, however, he's sucking serious wind. There's a libido/athletic performance link here, no doubt. Once he's inside, Nicky unzips the duffel, and they erect what amounts to a print chamber around Alison's body as Nicky comments, "Latent prints on skin, oil on oils, we're cutting it pretty close here." Gil knows that. Once the print chamber is erected, sheets of plastic are duct-taped to the floor, and the enclosed space is fumed so the prints rise. Then the entire thing is disassembled. Gil laments the lack of anything usable on Alison's neck, but Nicky finds a partial print on her ankle. Gil explains, "Very few sweat glands around the ankle. Prints survive longer." We then flash to the explanation for the prints -- someone tried to open or close a door, the body was in the way, so they picked up the ankle and shifted it around.

And now we're back at the Labitrail, where Catherine and Warrick are stopping by the evidence vault. It happens to be closed for the night since the evidence vault monkeys are between shifts. Catherine comments that they'll just log in the plastic container of mystery fluid believed to have been the lethal agent in a domestic poisoning case in the morning. Hey, what's the worst that could happen? Right?

While putting the unknown fluid -- which glows a bright green last seen when the Guardians of the Universe were busy surprising Hal Jordan with a fabulous new ring -- into a fume hood, Catherine and Warrick diss assorted weak alibis like "DFO" (Done Fell Over) and the infamous "Mystery Dude" defense. Warrick asks Catherine, "You thinking poison?" Catherine replies, "Well, I would be if I had any interest in actually testing the evidence we got off the wife. But for now, I'll just leave the mystery liquid alone. In a room. Without telling anyone. Are you sensing a set-up yet?" And I don't see any point in further recapping whatever case Catherine and Warrick are working, because it will soon be rendered irrelevant. What is relevant is that Catherine and Warrick are apparently working double shifts. Catherine explains the economics to Warrick: "I'll take it when I can get it. These nannies do not work cheap." I realize Eddie the duplicitous pancake-making bastard is busy making worm food these days, but he never really struck me as a hands-on parent, and I dimly recall Catherine having a sister to help her out. Now she's got a nanny? Warrick asks after Lindsey, and we find out that the kid is coping with the trauma of nearly dying in a car wreck -- and watching her father go -- by fighting in school. Warrick commiserates: "I know. I've been picking fights ever since my mentor's kid died. It's weird how we've all been so affected by our work cases lately. It's like, it's almost impossible for us to have friends or girlfriends, because then we find out they've shot their husbands or something. Thank God Gil never seems to have any personal problems." Oh, he does not either.

Time has presumably elapsed, because it is now daylight outside, and Nicky's inspecting Alison's depressing little rental car with Sara. She's checking the front seat; he's got the back. Nicky picks up a pair of underpants and comments, "I got a ripped-up pair of panties, possibly the vic's. Bag that for me, will ya?" Sara does. Nicky then discovers all sorts of bodily fluid stains. Sara only scores a blister-pack for medication and a ceramic fragment. Nicky asks who's working Trace; when Sara tells him it's Hodges, he groans, "I guarantee you that kiss-ass will have the results to Grissom before we do." Sara declines to comment on Hodges. She'd rather comment on likely crime scenarios, such as Alison being carjacked, forced to a remote location, then raped and murdered. Nicky's not buying it: "Why take her all the way up to the bleachers to risk getting caught in a room with only one way out?" He's given some thought to this. Why, it's almost as if Nicky spends his spare time plotting the most efficient ways to commit a bloodbath without getting caught. Or maybe he's only trying to apply the same kind of deductive reasoning that everyone else in his shift uses to shoot him down.

Back at the morgue, David The Down-To-Business Coroner is busy telling Gil that Alison died owing to suffocation from strangulation, and the pattern of small oval bruises on her throat indicates that she was strangled by hand, not by garrote. David points out that the bruises are concentrated on the left side of the neck, so the stranger did the deed with his right hand, with prolonged pressure on the jugular vein. There's a flashback to the strangulation, and although it is deeply, horribly wrong to think this, there's something inherently comedic about the way poor Alison squeaks while she's being choked -- it's like listening to Megan Mullaly have the hiccups or something. Gil comments soberly, "He must have been looking right in her eyes." David sighs, "That takes hate. I'll get a measurement of the grip size." Gil asks about the sexual assault workup, and we learn that the lab's backed up. So Gil takes another approach by noticing the bruises all over Alison's hands, arms, and torso and recalling that they're consistent with rape. David begs to differ: "I did a vaginal clock on her. Activity at eleven, twelve, and one, and that would imply rough sex, but not rape." Gil replies, "It may have started as sex, but it ended as murder." One wonders if a young Gil Grissom stood over his preying mantis tank, somberly signing the same thing to his mom as she signed back that he needed to lighten up.

Over at a squalid hotel off the Strip -- the kind of hotel, by the way, that does rent for $20 a night -- Brass is telling Nicky that Alison was a coffee-shop waitress outside Omaha, she had been planning this trip for a month, and she has no immediate family. Nicky comments, "Single woman on vacation in Vegas...alone?" Brass replies, "Yeah, weird. We're looking into it." Nicky continues looking through Alison's things -- if there's one thing I've learned from watching this show, it's to pack carefully for trips, lest total strangers make snap judgments about me posthumously after going through my carry-on -- and asks, "Who takes a tape recorder with them on vacation?" Brass deadpans, "Well, I keep one by the bed, in case I dream anything useful." That stops Nicky dead in his tracks. Brass asks, "What? I can't have deep thoughts?" Nicky honestly has no idea how to respond to that; you can tell he's kind of horrified by the idea of Brass having a soul, much less one he pours out in any artistic form. Brass then begins laughing.

And now we're in the Labitrail, where Hodges has apparently been using his Suck-Up Sense to detect Gil as the older man goes wandering through the halls. Hodges unctuously slithers up to Gil and says, "Hey, boss! I just analyzed the evidence found in your vic's rent-a-car." Gil says flatly, "You should be telling Nick or Sara." Hodges smarms, "I couldn't find them. They must be on another break. Anyway! Blister-pack was methadone. Forty milligrams, former smack addict dose. And the ceramic chip? Not ceramic. It's acrylic with a quartz resin composite used primarily in dental crowns -- cheap ones." Contrary to Hodge's deepest wishes, Gil is not stopping to fling his arms around Hodges in forensic ecstasy; without breaking stride, Gil replies, "Go tell Nick or Sara." Hodges sighs.

Jacqui the fingerprint tech is busy explaining to Gil how AFIS doesn't do well with partials, so she's going to pick eight or nine distinctive features, run those through the system, and look at anything with a high percentage of matching. Her first round out, she comes up with over a hundred hits; Gil notes this, and Jacqui snaps good-naturedly, "You trying to discourage me? It's all about interpretation. Knowing what's commonplace and what's unique." Gil watches Jacqui work, and she eventually winnows her selections down to about nineteen people. Gil points out, "You're still going to have to check each one by hand." She shoots back, "You're going to have to sign my timesheet." I'd love to see what the overtime budget for this department looks like. I'd also love a less subtle hint about how overworked the CSIs and the lab staff are, and how that's going to bite them in the ass sometime in the forty-odd minutes.

Just then, Liam The Lab Tech comes over and announces, "Grissom, I'm about to rock your world." Then he proceeds to talk about semen, which wouldn't fall under my definition of world-rocking, but I'm not into solving crimes. Liam tells Gil he got a hit off CODIS -- the semen found on Alison's body belongs to one Jason Kent. Liam asks, "Ring a bell? In 1987, they called him 'the Circle Killer.'" Why? Because he was a member of the Polygon Liberation Organization? Actually, we find out later that it's because the name of the high school had "Circle" in it somewhere.

Cut to a long, squalid highway, which is presumably the new home of the erstwhile Circle Killer. Sure enough, we're let into an apartment decorated in drab tones of olive and mustard, and Brass talks smack while Jason more or less takes it. Brass then arrests Jason for the murder of Alison Carpenter, what with it taking place at his old high school, but before they can cuff the guy, Gil's bobbing and weaving in a little more closely so he can examine the fresh cut on Jason's lip. Gil then asks to see Jason's hands; when he does, Gil says with a slight smirk, "Recently clipped your nails, huh?" Jason smirks more. Brass snarls, "You're such a smart guy, I bet you flushed them down the toilet." We all know that won't deter Gil. He goes into the bathroom. This is the point where I tell the mostly indifferent cats, "Oh, please, no. There's no telling what he'd get with the plunger." Fortunately, Gil finds the teensiest fragment of fingernail or skin in the clippers, so he'll take that back to the lab, where it will undoubtedly yield all sorts of clues.

Speaking of back in the lab, there we are in now in the break room. Sara's unwrapping her lunch and preparing to eat it alone. For some reason, I find it very odd that she doesn't have a peer-reviewed journal or a book with her; she's always struck me as the type who would do extra work-related reading at lunch. Sara takes a bite of her sandwich, then stops as Gil materializes in the hall. Cue her watching him as the Mirthful Music kicks in, and then she puts down her sandwich and begins following Gil while staring at him all the while. It's not unlike watching the Manson family ogle Charlie at his trial. Gil's talking to Liam about the nail clipping -- it's not exactly on the top of Liam's to-do list, and Gil quickly sets him straight with, "[The semen] only proves they had sex. The nail clippers can place Jason Kent at the murder scene. His nails, her DNA, traces of the booth, et cetera." Liam looks chastened. He replies, "Killer, victim, location." Gil reiterates, "Holy trinity, Liam. I need that." He leaves and begins walking down the hall again, a goggle-eyed Sara stalking behind him. Gil stops by Archie's lab bay, because -- hey, Archie's an aesthetic treasure and the mere sight of him lifts spirits. Or maybe I'm projecting. Gil's actually stopping by to see if Archie's begun working on Alison's tapes yet. Then Gil's back out in the hall; Sara takes off after him with a fixed expression. I half-expect her to begin chanting, "I must kill the Queen. I must kill the Queen." Gil gets waylaid by a secretary, and then by an unnamed lab tech, and Sara finally slumps in defeat. She smiles resignedly -- it's almost as if she's just awakened from hypnosis -- and begins ambling back through the Labitrail.

Naturally, that's when the fume hood Liam was working to explodes.

Insofar as television explosions go, it's pretty good -- glass flying everywhere, fire blooming over the lab bench, bodies flying. The fire alarms kick in almost immediately. We see a stunned Sara lying on her stomach in the hall, gaping at the lab and obviously wondering, "What in the hell happened?" and then we see poor Liam looking considerably worse for the wear, still in the lab and struggling just to lift his head up. That struggle lasts all of five seconds, and then Liam slumps to the ground.