All language subtitles for CSI.Crime.Scene.Investigation.S07E20.Lab.Rats.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb

Fellas, another incident at Lolita's.

What now?

An erotic athlete claiming a 420-Z.

The paramedics have her on a stretcher.

What the hell's an erotic athlete?

I hope it's a tight end in a G-String.

Nice.

419 at Tagliferri's
restaurant on 8th Avenue.

All right. Thanks. I'm on it.

415-B at the HaHaHa.

What's the weapon?

A Taser? Come on!

An angry clown got pissed at some
heckler with clogged arteries,

and it caused a heart attack.

So, Greg-O gets a hit
at a mob restaurant,

and I get a clown who can't take a joke?

Trust me, you don't want Greg's 419.

CDC needs someone out at the
Omdi-Tech offices on Boulder Highway.

I'm sure it's not hazardous, or
they wouldn't let us collect it.

Okay. You coming with?

No, I'm spending the night in
autopsy with the Lake Mead floater.

Well, enjoy. That guy was putrid.

Oh, by the way...

Four crime scene miniatures,

four murder victims,

and one diabolical killer
with an obsessive streak

who still remains at large.

I don't know if any of you have noticed
how distracted Grissom's been lately,

but it's these.

Keeping him up at night.

- You know the combination?
- Of course.

Grissom could use some
fresh eyes on the case,

and that's why I've asked you here.

Obviously, this could
be perceived as insulting

to the CSIs who
formerly worked the case,

so secrecy is of the utmost importance.

Double down low.

Oh, James, it's Moneypenny.
M needs you back at HQ.

- Shoe phone was Get Smart, though.
- Oh, that's right.

99 was so hot.

Four people are dead,

the killer is still out
there, and you're mocking?

We're mocking you.

You in or out?

- I don't really know anything about these cases.
- We'll review.

I don't know. I have
a lot of work to do.

And by work, you mean
IM'ing your Icelandic pen pal

who thinks that you look
like Warrick Brown because

that's the picture you posted.

- How...?
- I just know.

Archie, in?

What the hell,

but I got to leave early. I got a surfing
trip in Santa Barbara this weekend.

Miss Mockery?

Well, we can't leave the lab,
we can't talk to suspects.

What exactly does
Grissom wants us to do?

It's not always what you look at
that matters, it's what you see.

That's Thoreau.

Oh, is it?

Okay, Professor. And
your point would be?

The answers lie in these.

We're lab techs.

We think differently than field guys.

They deal with people,
we deal with things.

Maybe we can't find the killer,

but I think we can find the
thing that links all four murders.

This is an opportunity.

We have one shift to show
Grissom what we're made of.

Tonight, we could be heroes.

All right, all right. I'm in.

It's time to think outside the box.

The first miniature was found at
the crime scene, seven months ago.

The victim is Izzy Delancy,
washed-up rock star.

Blunt force trauma to
the back of the head.

Bonked with a rolling pin,
found in the drawer at the scene.

- Stalker maybe?
- Izzy didn't have any known stalkers,

and there was no forced entry.

Suspects include his first wife,

his current wife, the nanny he
was schtuping and his teenage son.

Motive thought to be sex?

And-or money. Izzy's
music library was for sale.

Mucho dinero to be gained.

So?

So... nothing.

Every suspect was exonerated.

All we were left with was this...

A perfect, half-inch
scale model of the room.

And assuming that the killer is the
same person who made the miniature...

It would have taken weeks,
maybe even months to create

with this kind of detail.

It certainly qualifies as premeditation.

It's real blood.

The killer actually stuck around to
match the blood pool at the scene.

- What?
- What are you doing?

- Sitting.
- No, no. You're tempting fate.

You know how you should never try on someone
else's engagement ring, hold the Oscar,

use the excuse that your
grandmother died when she didn't...

I tried on Suzie Quinceworthy's
diamond ring last year.

It looked really good on her,
and looked terrible on me.

I don't think an emerald cut
flatters my little ten-ies.

- Will I never marry?
- I'll marry you.

Although, you know, my
grandmother's still alive.

She lives down in Boca.

I don't know if you know this,

but I am the shuffleboard champion

of the Boca Surf and Sand.

Lady killer of the senior set.

Rock on. I can do an open marriage.

- Why do you guys keep doing that?
- Do what?

Hodges, relax, man.

I don't want to run the lab.

We are guests in the man's office.

If there was one person
who was more respectful

of space and boundaries, it's Grissom.

You could at least offer
him the same courtesy.

Wait.

Is he okay with us being in here?

He said he'd be in Autopsy,
won't be back for hours.

Anyway, they never solved
Izzy Delancy's murder.

Two months later, Penny Garden
was found dead in her house.

Suspects included her ex-junkie
nephew who was living with her,

and her drug-dealing neighbor, who
was buying prescription meds from her.

Obvious motives-
drugs and money.

Did either of them have any
connection to Izzy Delancy?

CSIs didn't even realize
this was a Miniature case

until this was anonymously
delivered to the scene the next day.

And why wasn't it left with
the body like the other one?

Good question.

Grissom and I really
noodled over that one.

Look carefully at the back of the doll,

and at the pillow on the chair.

There appears to be
remnants of glue on both.

So the doll was originally
glued to the back of the chair.

I think the killer
expected the victim to die

in this chair.

Well, if that's the case, then
how did the killer expect to...

kill her?

The killer knew that
Penny was always stinko

on Cherry Herring by
coupon-clipping time, so...

He laced her booze with liquid
nicotine, which induced convulsions.

And when she went all twitchy
and through the window...

The OCD killer had to
match it with his mini,

which is why it showed up late.

Red dog barks at midnight.

What are you guys doing in here?

Nothing.

All right, freakboy, your phone has been
ringing off the hook, so I finally answered it,

and Warrick and Nick said
they have a ton of trace,

and they really need
you to clear the decks.

No problem.

After you.

After you.

Irides brown.

No apparent puncture wounds,
abrasions or lacerations.

COD appears to be drowning.

We did pull him out
of Lake Mead you know.

Right.

Based on decomp,

I'd put TOD around 48 hours ago.

- Where's his head, David?
- They haven't found it yet.

Day shift.

He's got gas.

Yeah, he's going to be a
stinker. You want a mask?

No, I'm all right.

What the hell?

Rat!

Nice work.

At least I tried to
get him. Where were you?

I hate rats.

- Wow. Don't bother being discerning.
- Hey, what can I say?

Erotic athletes are kind of
gratuitous with the hands.

And lube on latex leaves
excellent ridge detail.

What's with the, uh,
blast from the past?

You got new evidence on the miniatures?

Um, just refiling some stuff.

Uh, G-on-G action. It's not really a
big question as to who did it, is it?

One ring, six women.

Ursula Major claims Ursula Minor
was responsible for the pile drive.

Only you, my dear, will know for sure.

Have fun.

Is that condensation?

Oh, no, it's-it's lube...

I think.

Yeah, these bikinis are from the
erotic athletes at Lolita's bar.

This woman, Lucy Pavorotti, broke
her neck flipping around up there.

Well, now she's suing everybody.

Okay. I'm on it.

Nothing?

- What?
- Nothing at all?

I'm all ready for "Luscious
Lucy likey Lolita's lubey."

Or something.

Every man is not an end but a beginning.

Today I rise above and step up.

Have a nice day.

Good point.

Hey, I've been meaning to ask you

about something you
might be interested in.

The Forensics Academy has
their conference in June...

But the thing about it is, man,

I'm just no good when it
comes to IR trace technology.

But now you... you are.

So... what do you think?

It's in Iowa.

Which is... as fun as you
want to make it, but...

So according to this, a month
after Penny Garden's murder,

Grissom investigated an electrocution
at the Mannleigh chicken plant.

The victim was Raymundo
Suarez, early 30s,

a nighttime janitor.

It looked like a possible
industrial accident,

or maybe even a workplace homicide.

Right up until they found the perfect
half-inch scale cast metal mini.

Suspects included the
boss, Ike Mannleigh.

Raymundo was sleeping
with his wife, Bubbles.

I can't even do it with my cat watching.

Wait. Sex, drugs, rock and roll.
Do you think it's a pattern?

No, 'cause according to this,

sex may not have
actually been the issue.

Yeah, Ike Mannleigh was exonerated,

and another coworker, Ernie Dell, he
looked good for all of the murders.

Yeah, that's right,
he was caught on tape

in an animal rights PSA
made by Izzy Delancy.

Yes, he was.

Look at this.

- Ew!
- Yeah, tell me about it.

I had to scan this thing for hours.

Haven't been able to eat chicken since.

Anyway, Ernie Dell was
really into model trains.

You know, the way a serial
killer's really into pets.

So when CSIs went to his house,

they found these molds for
all these creepy little things.

Some of which matched pieces
from the Izzy Delancy miniature.

Ernie was caught on some
neighborhood watch surveillance video

delivering the mini to
Penny Garden's house.

This guy can't stay away from a camera.

You don't know how right you are.

He confessed on live video,
e- mailed it directly to Grissom.

My name is Ernest Edward Dell.

I was born in 1946 in Ames, Iowa.

...spend any amount of time around
people, you get your heart broke.

Treachery.

Hypocrisy.

The promise of love.

A man could kill from sunup to sunset

and still his work would never be done.

- Could I speak with you a moment?
- Sure.

This is exactly why I
didn't invite you to join us.

You take over everything.

Grissom asked me to gather some
techs to review the Miniature cases.

- Like a think tank.
- Yeah, I know, they told me.

So, kudos to you.

I hand selected them with careful
consideration to group dynamics.

Well, I can see that.

I mean, it's you and
your back up singers.

You're Davy Hodges and the Lemmings.
You should take your act on the road.

We can hear you.

Look, the only reason
that you don't like me

is because I actually stand up to you.

Which, by the way, is
exactly what you need.

You know I would be good
at all this miniature stuff.

That's not the only reason.

Really? Okay, what is it?

You think you're too cool.

Oh, my God. What are we, 12?

I don't know, are we?

I don't know, are we?

It's just a rat, fellas. Why
are you wearing the HazMat gear?

He made me do it.

It's a wild animal

covered with potentially
biohazardous material with claws.

Rabies, scabies, AIDS, hepatitis.

I'm thinking of this suit
as a giant rubber glove.

The vic's intestines?

What are you doing?

Rats are neophobic-
they fear the new.

We stand a better chance of catching him

by giving him what he's used to.

Pestilence, alive and well.

I think he's onto us, Doc.

Miniature number four was another home,

a unit in a high-rise condo,
complete with a working fireplace...

...and a dead cat.

But the MO on this one
was full of anomalies.

It was sent to the Crime Lab
shortly after Ernie Dell's suicide,

but before the murder had
actually been committed.

And the really weird part was the
package was addressed directly to Grissom.

But why, to taunt him?
Like suddenly it's personal?

The intended victim was Barbara Tallman.

A therapist. But we got there first.

PD set up a sting which resulted in
the death of an undercover officer,

while a roomful of detectives watched.

Again, the killer knew
the habits of the victim.

This one always took an afternoon nap.

Based on her position on the couch,

the CSIs thought that the
intended cause of death

might be suffocation or poisoning.

But they found something else instead.

Yeah, here, it looks like the killer
put some kind of gizmo on the flue.

See, the timer went off,

activated a motor which sealed the flap

and dropped powdered
charcoal onto the fire,

producing carbon monoxide.

So the fumes had nowhere to
go but out into the apartment

and into the undercover officer.

- Later, Betties.
- Quitter.

Glory whore.

Who were the suspects?

Somebody directly connected with Ernie.

Somebody worth killing himself for.

They interviewed his son, Lionel.

Looks like Lionel Dell
knew Barbara Tallman.

Okay, so maybe I met her, so what?

So, she's dead.

That's four stiffs
associated with you, Lionel.

Five, if you count Ernie.

I don't.

You know, you keep saying
that you hated your dad,

but I'm not buying it.

You go through your life alone,

you're good with your hands,

you have weird hobbies,

you make little things.

And when that gets tricky...

...you call your father.

Let me tell you about Ernie.

What he cared about in his life was...

his wife, his trains, and his kids,

in that order.

Kids? You're an only child.

Again, if only.

If you're looking for a love connection,

then you should maybe go talk
to one of the chosen ones.

What are you talking about?

Fosters.

My parents had, like, dozens.

They'd come and go,
some before I was born.

My mom loved kids.

Dad loved Mom.

I guess, as soon as I came around,

the love ran out.

I had a friend who tried to reconnect
with some of her old foster siblings.

And honestly, it's next to impossible.

The system protects minors,
they change their names,

and some of them just
fall right off the map.

Well, the only link we have is
a disposable cell phone number.

Calls made to all four victims?

And additional minutes
purchased on the phone

with Ernie Dell's credit
card after his death.

Yeah, online billing.

You can just keep spending and
paying until the card expires.

So what happened when
they called the number?

They did call the number, right?

I'm sure they did.

What are you doing?

Leave a message after the tone.

Nice one, Simms.

Now they have my cell phone number.

Well, the victims don't
have much in common,

so I say we go metaphoric.

Hypocrisy.

Yeah, I get it.

There's Izzy the vegan eating bacon;

Penny, the cigarette
smoking cancer patient;

Raymundo, the church-going adulterer;

and Barbara, the overmedicated shrink.

This is the United States of America.

Hypocrisy is the new national anthem.

Forget it. Stretching.

Grissom said they
checked for commonalities

between victims and got nowhere.

I was reading an article in the JFS

about literary forensics.

They use a computer
program to analyze documents

to determine authorship.

For instance, when the book Primary
Colors was first published anonymously,

people knew it was one of
Clinton's speech writers,

so they compared word usage and
phrasing with the writers on his staff

and discovered who'd
probably written it.

I say we look at the
work to find the author.

Try to figure out who it is by
what message they're trying to send.

What?

That was a very good idea.

Well, I have one occasionally.

Look, clearly the killer
is into signatures, right?

I mean, the miniatures
themselves are signatures,

and then within each miniature,
they all have this doll thing.

That creepy little Sally.

Well, we're working under the assumption

that the killer is a foster kid, right?

With probably an abusive
childhood. So a bloody baby doll?

I mean, it's really not
that much of a stretch

to say that the doll
represents the killer.

Grissom had something on that.

"Freud's Theory of the Uncanny
raises the point that as children,

"we want the doll to come to life,

"but as adults, we are
terrified by the idea.

"Doll could represent the uncanny
that is feared, the Sandman."

Right. Or exactly what I just said.

So, we're looking for
an obsessive, meticulous,

dark-ass misanthrope who seeks
recognition for his efforts.

When would I find the
time? I'm always here.

- Can I have a chip?
- No!

Here.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

All the miniatures have food.

Eggs...

booze...

Tea and cookies...

Milk...

And a chicken?

But is it considered food if
it's still alive and clucking?

You've never lived in Pennsylvania.

I think if the killer is trying to
make some sort of anti-food statement,

there are much better
places in Vegas to do it.

Like blowing up a buffet.

Gluttons eating crab legs.
That's exactly where I'd start.

Did you guys see Scream?

Hello?

Oh, hi, Catherine.

Have I seen Wendy?

Uh, no. She hasn't been
at her desk all day long.

Give me...

Here, let me look for her.
Oh, oh, wait, here she is.

Loser.

Hey, Catherine, what's up?

Hey, you said you were gonna rush
DNA off that Taser that I checked in.

Yeah, I did.

And the blood on the Taser tips
did match your heart attack victim,

but I also found a
second male contributor

who's probably your suspect.

Run the unknown against the semen
that I found on the clown wig

from my Peeping Tom case last month.

Okay. Why?

Let's just say I got a real
good hunch about this one.

Who's the big clown now, huh?

What about music?

Izzy has gold records,

Penny had a record player,

Barbara had high-end stereo equipment.

Yeah, but what about the chicken plant?

The squeals of dying chickens?

No go, amigo.

What about flowers?

The flower delivery guy might
have access to the space.

Well, I see flowers in Penny's
and Barbara's, but not Izzy's.

Flour canister?

Stop that.

Besides, I don't think the slaughterhouse
would be into the lobby bouquet.

What about mail?

A crazed postal worker.
Wouldn't be the first time.

There's mail on the
counter, mail on the floors,

mail on the desk...

No mail in the henhouse.

Maybe they have puns in common.

Look, if this is really about the
killer trying to reveal something,

is there anything that's
gotten more in-your-face

with each successive miniature?

Well, the way he kills has
certainly gotten more complicated.

Blunt force trauma to
poison to electrocution

to a timed booby trap of carbon
monoxide in the fireplace.

What about newspaper?

Starts out on the counter,
then all over the floor,

then with the doll, as the
headline. That's bolder and bolder.

See, again, there's no newspaper in the
chicken plant, not even shredded in the cages.

Okay, buzz kill. You
come up with a theory.

Hey, it's not me, it's the Chicken
plant. That's the streak-breaker.

Well, then, maybe we should start
with that one and work our way out.

Can you smell that?

You shouldn't be able to
smell that through your suit.

Good to know.

Did you know that rodents have
skeletons with flexible joints?

If they can get their
head through something,

the rest of their body
can contort to fit.

They can crawl into spaces
as small as a quarter.

Lousy varmints.

Bastard hit the main line.

That's not the only thing
he's got in his mouth.

What is it?

My guess would be black tar heroin.

Looks like the rat ate the mule.

Okay, look, we gave it a try. There's
nothing in this thing but machinery.

Let's just put it back.

Relax.

What's this?

You freaking broke it!

That's destroying evidence.

I can fix it.

Have any of you guys seen Grissom?

Some garlic bread? Nice Chianti, maybe?

Kiss my ass.

I'd like to see you
crawl around in a Dumpster

determining the difference
between blood and marinara sauce

with six mobster goons
giving you the stink eye.

Wouldn't know anything about that.
We're holed up in a lab all day.

What are you guys doing?

You know, forget it. I don't even care.

I need to go take a shower.

Would one of you please call janitorial
and have them clean my Denali?

Sure.

Oh, and, uh, we think the killer
might have threw up in the alley.

Full panel.

Enjoy.

Got to go. Good luck.

"NaOCl."

Bleach.

There was bleach at
the Izzy Delancy scene.

And in the vase water at
Barbara Tillman's condo.

Why?

Put a few drop in the
water, helps kill bacteria

keeps the flowers blooming a long time.

Put too much bleach, flowers die.

What about Penny?

You stay here.

I'm going to switch this
out for the Penny Garden.

No, you know what? No.

Look, this entire thing has turned into a three-ring
circus, 'cause every time we get something,

something else just comes
along and proves us wrong.

And, honestly, I think
you've lost your damn mind.

I mean, what makes you think if the
CSIs can't solve this, that we can?

Seriously. I'm a little tired
of your delusions of grandeur.

And I'm way behind in work,
and I'm sick of sneaking around.

So that's it. I'm out.

Here you go. I checked under the keys.

Crusty white stains,
pale blue under ALS.

Semen, huh?

What made you check under the keys?

A buttprint on the credenza.

Yeah, okay, that's gross.

CDC contacted us,

because the whole office has
a herpes simplex 1 outbreak,

and nobody could figure out why.

I guess you never really know
what's going on in your office.

Is it true that the Miniature cases
have been keeping Grissom up at night?

How would I know?

I just thought that maybe
you guys all talk about it,

and... Hodges told me that
Grissom confided in him and...

You know what? Never mind.
Just forget I even asked.

Well, listen, I-I don't know what
Hodges has been telling you, but...

do you really think that
Grissom would confide in him?

About anything?

Of course not.

You are a liar and an ass.

I mean, if you want to go
running around like Sir Galahad,

just yanking swords willy-nilly,
that is totally your business.

But you put all of us at risk here.

I think we might be onto
something with the bleach.

Archie and Henry gave
up a full day's work

thinking that they were doing
something to help Grissom.

And Grissom never even asked you
to do this in the first place.

Technically, all I said to them was that
Grissom needed our help, which is true.

I only lied to you.

Aren't you worried
about your own caseload?

I've trained them all to
believe that the laser ablater

and mass spec take twice
as long as they actually do.

Oh, my God.

I cannot believe you. I can't believe that, for
half a second, I actually thought that I might...

- You what?
- Nothing.

What on God's green earth
possessed you to do this?

It's my lucky day.

What?

It's my lucky day.

Well, enjoy. That guy was putrid.

Oh, by the way, you left
the miniatures unlocked.

Yeah, I've been looking
at those a lot lately.

When you walked away, it
was like the stars aligned.

It was my lucky day.

Lucky?

You're a scientist.

I was trying to help Grissom.

Come on. If Gil Grissom were
here, he'd slap your face.

Yeah, I recognize him. His
street name's Ralo Perez.

He's a drug runner for the Jamaican mob.

According to sources, he was skimming,

swallowing a couple
balloons for personal use.

He dropped out of sight
a couple of weeks ago.

He dropped into Lake Mead.

Well, that's one off my desk.

Well, I'll get the drugs to
Tox, and we'll wrap this up.

This better be good, Dave.

- Bleach.
- What?

I found a common element in
all four miniatures... bleach.

There's a bottle of it
in the trash at Izzy's;

there's a barrel of it
at the chicken plant,

There's, uh, bleach in the
flower water at Barbara's condo,

and now... a bleach coupon in Penny's.

This-this may sound crazy, but

if the killer is a
housekeeper or a janitor,

they would certainly know the
ins and outs of each location,

uh, what goes in what drawer,
what book on what bookshelf.

Hours of operation, habits, schedules.

I've thought a lot about
the killer's pathology,

and there doesn't seem to be any
regular interval between murders,

which makes me think that
they're triggered by something.

Maybe the killer is triggered by bleach.

The bellows.

I'm sorry?

James Tilly Matthews.

Early 19th century London.

Matthews was in Bedlam
Hospital awaiting trial.

Doctors were trying to
determine his sanity.

Several interviewed him.

Half thought he was sane, half insane.

Turns out he was perfectly normal...

except when someone mentioned politics.

At that point,

he'd go into a rage about the
little men who lived underground

and used a bellows to push
thoughts into his mind,

as well as the minds of
Parliament and the Queen.

A specific object or word

that triggers the urge to kill.

That's a form of delusional psychosis.

Rare, but does exist.

If the killer is one of
Ernie Dell's foster kids,

maybe bleach played a role in
some sort of childhood abuse.

He's getting back at the
world for what they did to him.

Well, if having bleach in your home
is the common element among victims...

...then anyone can be next.

Did the victims use a
common cleaning service?

Not that we know of.

However, it's not unusual for
people with these pathologies

to become vocal toward the institutions

that they feel propagate the trigger.

Maybe we could call bleach
manufacturing companies

and see if they've
received any hate mail.

Cross reference correspondence
with Vegas postmarks.

Might be able to narrow
down neighborhoods.

Good job, Hodges.

Really.

Now...

Do you mind?

Absolutely...

I... I'm sorry if I crossed
the line. It won't happen again.