CSI
Compulsion

Episode Report Card
Sobell: B- | 1 USERS: A+
YOU GRADE IT
Pissed off

Gil then wanders back into the main room, where Sara is searching in vain for a print, any print. She tells Gil all she's finding is "wipes and swipes."

Cut to Brass interviewing Norman Bates, Jr. He's looking stricken. Still creepy, but stricken nonetheless. He tells Brass slowly, as one would tell a particularly slow child, "Mrs. Krell was a real nice lady. She brought me a Dodgers baseball cap." Brass says with his patented False Guilelessness, "Oh? You were friends then?" Norman Bates, Jr. candidly admits, "Not really. The airlines book a block of rooms here for their trolley dollies -- discounted." The rooms, one hopes, and not the stewardesses. It's not like airline employees have that many perks left anyway. At least, those airline employees who aren't executives. ANYWAY, the camera pulls back so we can see how Norman Bates, Jr. is standing: slightly stooped, slightly pigeon-toed, with his arms drawn up like a preying mantis's inside his immaculately pressed, too-large suit. Whomever conceived of this character has a wonderful eye for detail.

Norman Bates, Jr. continues, "[Martha]'d been staying here for a few months," and we find out he discovered the body when "her supervisor called to say her AM flight was cancelled. She wasn't answering her phone. He asked me to make sure she got the message." Brass asks, "So you knocked on the door, and when she didn't answer, you just went right in?" "Yeah. I got a master key," Norman Bates, Jr. says. Tub of hair goop to slick back the too-long 'do: $4. Suit that doubles as a Riff-Raff costume at the local midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show: $400. Having untrammeled access to every room in the joint? Priceless.

Just then the manager comes over and introduces himself as Hayden Michaels. From the depths of the couch, the husband sarcastically mutters, "It's a shout-out." Brass is all, "Whatever, glad-hander," to Hayden, but the sleazery hasn't begun in earnest yet. Hayden's all, "Detective, if there's any way we can prevent people from knowing a killer with a cleaning fetish lurks in our dimly-lit hallways, smug in the knowledge that we lack surveillance cameras with which to capture his image…it'll hurt my per-room earnings target for the month. So let's keep any safety concerns out of the media, huh? The shareholders and I thank you." Or something along those lines. Brass is as unimpressed with Hayden's false plight as I am: "I'm trying to catch a killer. I can't control the press. If this makes the news, it is what it is." Let's hear it for Brass, accidental defender of the first amendment!

And let's hear it for the B-plot. We move to the 'burbs, where Nicky and some modestly-dressed woman in black sungla--- oh, wait. That's Catherine. What's she doing in a shirt with a collar line around her suprasternal notch and actual sleeves? She looks good. Anyway, they're walking into a house just as Lee Tergesen walks on out. Lee's sporting one of those hostile, haunted looks he wore, like, constantly on Oz. Well, I guess if you practice something for years, you're always looking for ways to use it. Lee's followed by an anguished-looking woman, and a confused-looking kid. Cavaliere greets Catherine and Nicky at the front door with, "Victim's in the bedroom. Ty Hawkins. Twelve years old. Sentence fragments. More effective than subject-verb construction."

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CSI

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