CSI
Feeling The Heat

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Life's Most Precious Cargo

And for all of you saying, "It's been 18 minutes. Where's Warrick already?" -- well, now we have an answer. He's trapped in a subdivision of Hell, if the architecture is any indication. By the way, it's still hot outside. Warrick, however, is inside. He's taking pictures of a guy in a recliner, and he looks up to ask, "You with me?" Gil replies, "I am now. Passed off the dead baby case to Catherine, since I figure she doesn't get enough food for thought on how difficult it is to reconcile her role as a parent with her role as someone who investigates the neglectful actions of other parents." Or maybe he stops after mentioning Catherine's name. Gil mentions that it's hot in the apartment; Warrick photographs his beefy, shirtless corpse du jour and nods in the affirmative. He continues snapping: a fan, a telephone, and what looks to be an extremely complex remote control. Warrick notes that the super came in to check the AC and found Beefy Guy like this -- he's one Wesley Jones, aged 33, expired in his plug-in massage chair. There are no signs of forced entry, nor is there any indication that robbery was a motive; all Warrick has to go on is this half-naked husk in the chair and a bruise on the guy's fingertip. As Warrick photographs the crumpled soda can near Wesley's feet, Gil comments, "I had a case once where the soda can was the murder weapon. Suspect used it to bash in the victim's head." I'm assuming it was full then, and the suspect summarily emptied it so it looked less likely to inflict head trauma? At least, that's how I'd do it. Not that I often think of murdering people with Diet Coke cans. Warrick takes more photos of Wesley's detritus: a diet shake, a fitness magazine, and an empty cookie sheet filled with crumbs. He concludes, "This guy trying to start a diet or fall off of one?" Over by the fridge, Gil notes, "He's got a workout schedule. And today? A three-mile run." Maybe he should have tried bikram yoga instead. Gil further notes, "Fat metabolizers containing ephedra. Scorching heat and ephedra? That's not good." We flash to one imagined scenario, where Wesley really did go for that run, then staggers in for a diet shake and a brief post-workout chair massage before passing out and dying. Warrick says, "Sounds like a heat stroke to me." Gil lets us all know how he feels about weight loss by caustically saying, "Yeah. Feel the burn."

Meanwhile, Catherine wanders through the Labitrail before making her way over to Liam the Lab Tech's lair. He's working on that swab she took. Liam asks, "I heard the DA's really gunning for the father. What do you think they're going to charge him with? Murder?" Catherine replies, "Not likely. Child endangerment, child neglect, child abuse." Liam says, "Sounds like a slap on the wrist to me." Catherine retorts that Liam and Sinclair can shake hands on that. Before things can get any tenser, the printer spits out the results of Catherine's sample: "Brompheniramine maleates. USP-one." For those of you who are "Bro-phe-who-what?" we're talking an antihistamine compound used to treat rhinitis and other hypersensitivity reactions; it works by coming into contact with an allergen and minimizing the body's subsequent reaction to it. Catherine realizes they're dealing with cough syrup.

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CSI

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