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Back it in. Back it in. Back it in. Back it in.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're good. You're good.

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 powering up)

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.

We're going to need to process him.

Sure.

Check out the smorg-ie-bord.

Go ahead.

Mike.

Good God...

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.

The last remains of John Doe.

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.

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.

Empty.

Empty?

Maybe she was just broke.

Hey.

Hey.

You guys are fast.

You pronounce?

7:20. Coroner will be able to tell you more.

Looks like she bled out.

Her left wrist is transected.

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.

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, 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.

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 them.

He's, uh, he's a gambler.

Um, used to drag Linda out, keep her up

days at a time.

Ran her

health down, her spirit.

She was getting better, though.

She had a, uh... rough time after college finding herself

but she was getting better.

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. W-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.

Your walk-ins

on a very busy night.

We're short a chef.

We know. He's dead.

Not only dead.

Dismembered.

We're with the crime lab.

(phone ringing)

I'll get the owner.

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?

Hey, Cath?

Blood spatter.

It's a kitchen. The 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.

Give me till after the rush?

(sighs)

Okay, this rush is taking

entirely too long.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Oh, hey, watch it.

Ah, blood!

Oh, hey, stop... ooh!

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.

Oar 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.

Your windshield glass is from a 2002 model.

Thank you.

Mm-hmm.

(sighs)

The windshield's intact.

Yeah. 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.

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.

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.

(screaming, glass breaking)

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.

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'll go have a little chit-chat

with the hostess.

They always seem to know everything.

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.

(siren wailing in distance)

Oh, uh, this is the clearest picture

that we could find of Brody.

Thank you.

I'll get it to a detective.

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.

That's a guridon

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.

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.

Chef Petrov made Mr. Pasqualle

a Cafe Diablo.

Myers Rum, Grand Marnier, Kahlua, and now for the ride.

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.

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 mark on your hand, Mr. Pasqualle?

Patterned abrasions

over the dorsal 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.

(printer whirring)

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.

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.

You know, the more I see of this kind of stuff

the less I picture you a gambler.

This isn't gambling.

This is the end of the line.

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.

(sighs)

Take it.

You're coming with the shirt.

We'll need your shoes, too.

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.

You can see

why I might have a hard time believing you, right?

(raps on glass)

Excuse me.

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 OODIS.

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.

Well, that's a very tenuous distinction.

Stay right there.

That's a filet, not a porterhouse.

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?

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.

Then I saw blood.

Linda!

Tried to revive her.

Oh, oh.

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.

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.

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.

(computer beeping)

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 in 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.

(scoffs)

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, l-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?

Did Linda's boyfriend put you up to this?

Because he is not stable. (phone ringing)

No.

(phone ringing) Excuse me.

We're simply trying to determine Hello?

How your daughter died.

The blouse from your vic's closet... 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...

l-I...

I guess I panicked.

I hid in the closet.

(door opens and closes)

And, um, she, uh... when he...

Linda?

Linda?!

(voice breaking) By then it was too late.

I just wanted to get her help.

I just wa... She needed my help.

I just...

She, she needed help.

Honey, you know...

she-she wouldn't...

Reminds 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)

(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)

...sand went 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.

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)

Let's go for a walk.

Hey, relax. You'll be with a friend.

Cuff him up.

Why did you kill him?

L-I went into the walk-in to, to get some lemons.

Oh, yeah... (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.

Well, I've seen you.

(knife clangs)

(grunts)

(groans)

Officer, would you take her to Booking, please?

(cuffs rattling)

All in a day's work.

Yeah.

You up for dinner?