CSI: NY s07e19 Episode Script

Food For Thought

* Have a banana, Hannah * * Try the salami, Tommy * * Get with the gravy, Davy * * Everybody eats when they come to my house * * Try a tomato, Plato * * Here's cacciatore, Dory * * Taste of baloney, Tony * * Everybody eats when they come to my house * * I've fixed your favorite dishes * * Hopin' this good food fills ya * * Work my hands to the bone in the kitchen alone * * You better eat if it kills ya * * Pass me a pancake, Mandrake * * Havin' a derby, Irvy * * Look in the fendel, Mendel * * Everybody eats when they come to my house * Hannah! Davy! Order up for Hawkes.
- Uh, Hawkes, order up.
- Yeah.
Yeah, that's me.
- There you go.
- Thanks.
Let me have the number three special, please.
- Go on.
- What is it? It's called Spudtastic.
Kennebec fries mixed with artisan cheese curds and a foie gras gravy.
- You gotta be kidding me.
- It's so good.
- Would you try it? - You first.
I promise you won't regret it.
- Besides, I'm a trained nurse, remember? - Mm-hmm.
- Anything goes wrong-- - Yeah? I know mouth-to-mouth.
- You do? - Yeah.
* Everybody eats when they come to my house * - This is really good.
- See? - Gotta experience new things.
- Well, who knew? I'm really happy you played hooky today with me, Sheldon.
You were always a bad influence, Camille.
- Come here.
- But I like that.
- Mmm.
- What? - Lardon.
- Lardon.
They do a BLT with blue cheese and cherry tomatoes.
It'll blow your mind.
* Out here in the fields * * I fight for my meals * * I get my back into my living * * Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
* Camille, Camille, are you okay? - Yeah.
I'm okay.
- Can you sit up? - Are you sure? - I'm fine.
Oh, my God.
There's some people over there that need our help.
Let's go.
You get her.
I got him.
- Come on, come on.
We gotta get outta here.
- You're gonna be okay, sir.
- You all right? - You're okay.
Lie down over here.
All right.
That's Derby Chasen.
He was serving up gourmet grub from inside this World on Wheels truck when it blew.
You're gonna be fine.
Any other fatalities? Amazingly, no.
Meanwhile, the feds are circling.
You think we're looking at an act of terrorism here? Based on the position of the truck and the time of the blast, if someone wanted to cause maximum damage and loss of life, this sure doesn't feel like the time and place to do it.
Maybe we're looking at a truck malfunction then.
I'll pull the vehicle inspection report, see what we get.
Don't waste your time.
I just found traces of triacetone triperoxide.
- Doesn't sound too appetizing.
- It's not.
TATP is a powerful explosive made from household chemicals.
Any nut-job can get the recipe online.
It's basically the reason why you can't bring liquids onto planes.
But why gourmet food trucks? Yes, we treated a lot of scrapes and bruising before these guys showed up.
Some dizziness, hearing loss-- And, uh, most of the injuries were shock related and pretty minor, considering.
It's a miracle you both walked away.
But I thought you called in sick today.
Didn't you? Yeah.
About that.
I, uh-- Save all that for Mac.
Make sure these gentlemen give you a clean bill of health before you come back to work.
All right.
Blast pattern suggests it originated from the side panel.
This is where the propane tank would've been.
Built-in bomb.
All you need's an ignition source.
When we piece together the rest of this shrapnel, it might be able to tell us something.
We've got so much propane tank shrapnel here.
We're gonna be lucky if we get out of here by dinnertime.
- Hungry? - I'm starving.
It was all I could do to get a banana into Lucy this morning.
I don't even remember the last time I actually sat down and ate breakfast.
What about the feast that we brought you in bed? That was Mother's Day, two years ago.
Two? Really? Wow.
I'll get you something tasty as soon as we're done.
I want a bowl of grits, two eggs over medium, and sausage, and wheat toast with a lot of butter from that soul food place on Bleecker.
And I want a double cheeseburger with large fries and a Creamsicle float from that place in Madison Square Park.
That's it? I'm not pregnant, just hungry.
If you find a body, get a positive ID.
How you doing, Doc? If it's any consolation, I would've taken the day off for her, too.
- Yeah.
- Got some leftovers? Maybe.
Order of contents are usually written on the outside of a take-out box, right? - Yeah.
- Tell me this.
Why write on the inside? Hmm.
- How's it going, Sid? - Oh, Mac.
Derby Chasen's death was obviously caused by the concussive force of the blast combined with severe burns and smoke inhalation.
But in this case at least, it also appears our young chef's apron did more than just keep his clothes clean, it kept them intact, which is significant because the apron's rubber lining prevented the flames from coming into direct contact with the vic's T-shirt where it covered his torso.
And as a result, it also protected this.
Some kind of thoracic contusion.
The pattern looks familiar, but I can't quite place it.
What I can tell you is it was probably painful and still relatively fresh.
Delivered not more than four to five hours prior to death.
Suggesting he may have had an altercation the same day he died.
But who hit him? And with what? Hey.
You busy? Just about to run some evidence.
What's up? I'm throwing a party, and I want you to come.
Babe, didn't we just almost die? Why do you think I'm throwing a party? It's just a few old friends I haven't been able to see.
Would love them to meet you, Sheldon.
Oh, Camille, no, no, no.
- I got a bunch of work to do.
- Oh, come on.
Please, please.
Please, Sheldon.
Please? Please? Okay, okay.
No-- Stop, stop, stop.
I'll come.
Let me figure something out, okay? All right.
* Robert's got a quick hand * * He'll look around the room * * He won't tell you his plan * * He's got a rolled cigarette * * Hangin' out his mouth, he's a cowboy kid * * Yeah, found a six-shooter gun * * In his dad's closet * * Hidden in a box of fun things * * I don't even know what * * But he's comin' for you * * Yeah, he's comin' for you * * All the other kids with the pumped-up kicks * * You better run, better run, outrun my gun * * All the other kids with the pumped-up kicks * * You better run, better run faster than my bullet * Is there a hungry lady in here? I got the burger you wanted.
- Bring it in here.
- Can't.
No food in the labs, remember? Danny, I can't come out right now.
- I think I just found something.
- What do you got? I found these dark splotches on the surface reconstruction of the propane tank.
Check it out.
Looks like it could be hardened gel or fluid, maybe glue.
So I'm thinking maybe our perp used glue to attach the bomb to the underside of the propane tank.
- Then lit the fuse-- - Yeah, and then boom.
It's gonna take a bit more lab work to figure out if it can help us, though.
You'd better get busy.
Hey, wait.
Come on.
Save me a French fry.
** No.
I'm-- I'm arresting you.
- Hey.
- Hey.
- I like to see you having fun.
- I like to see you, period.
You want another drink? - Oh, thanks.
- All right.
- He's great.
- I know.
** - Hi.
- Hey.
I know.
He's such a great guy.
Want some grass? More for us, right? - Good night.
- Good night.
I'm so sorry.
- I had no idea that was going on.
- Babe, it's okay.
- It's just that I work for the NYPD.
- I know.
I get it.
I didn't even know those people.
They just tagged along with some of my friends.
You know what a Goody Two-Shoes I am.
Babe, it's fine.
You go have fun.
I'll call you tomorrow.
- Can I ask you something? - Sure.
Have you ever tried it? - You mean weed? - Yeah.
At some point, you must've at least been curious.
At some point, I did lots of things, not all of which I'm proud of.
I'll take that as a yes then.
Take it how you want.
Why does it matter? 'Cause I never have.
Between school, nursing college and work, I pretty much gave up my 20s.
And then a few weeks ago, I end up with an assassin's gun to my head.
And then last night, you and I nearly get blown to kingdom come.
So I guess all of this is kind of making me think that maybe I still have some living to do.
Babe Care to join me? Damn.
- What's wrong? - Overslept.
- What time is it? - 10:00.
- I was supposed to be at work an hour ago.
- Oh, no.
- You'll call me later? - Yeah.
- Come here.
- Uh-huh.
- Come here.
- Look, baby-- - Come here.
- Oh, baby, I gotta go.
Come on.
Please? Bye.
Adam, you get anywhere with that shirt fragment? Oh, yeah.
Bird spit.
Excuse me? I really got something.
Collocaliini Apodidae.
It's Chinese cave swallow saliva.
You know, bird spit.
I found it in the stain on the fabric.
Swabbed it, ran it through amylase and DNA.
Get this.
The stain lines up right where Derby Chasen was hit in the chest.
That means trace was probably on whatever was used to hit him.
His truck serve a lot of offbeat cuisine? Some kind of exotic ingredient maybe? That's what I thought, but I can't find it anywhere here on the online menu.
And I also can't find the number three special Camille told Jo about.
Let me have the number three special, please.
So what's a Chinese cave swallow doing in Manhattan? I don't know.
Hey, but, Mac, do you think if a bird spits on you, it's the same kind of good luck as when a bird sh-- Figure it out, Adam.
Uh, uh, uh I'll admit to occasionally grazing at the pastrami truck outside the precinct, but this whole mobile food scene is a hell of a lot bigger than I thought.
My son and his college friends swear by them.
And where there's that kind of demand, there's some pretty fierce competition.
Get this.
Out of 3,000 street food permits applied for the last year, In between fights over parking, vandalism, and proprietary claims over menu items, things can get pretty ugly.
These are all complaints against Derby Chasen and the World on Wheels truck.
That's right.
Eight of them in the past 12 months.
DOT, Bureau of Food Safety, Sanitation, Health Department-- Didn't Hawkes say their food was pretty good? This guy sure didn't think so.
Odelin Gonzales.
Well, that's the name on all these complaints.
He's a dog-and-pretzel jockey.
Been licensed to work a sidewalk on Broadway for the last 11 years.
Looks like he's been working the system pretty hard against our vic while he was at it.
- Should we go pay him a visit? - It is lunchtime.
That's a good-looking dog, Mr.
No, the best.
All beef, natural casing, a little secret spice.
Why don't you tell us about your all-natural beef with Derby Chasen? Thank God you're finally here to help.
That punk has stole half my business over the past year, illegally.
Well, we understand you're angry based on all the complaints you filed.
I pass every test, paid every permit, and all he has to do is pull up and park? Half the time, he doesn't even feed the meters.
Does he respect my space? No.
Follow size restrictions or pay storage fees? No.
And yet, they still line up for him.
Not anymore.
I really appreciate it, Officers.
I just hope he doesn't mess with anyone else.
Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that, Mr.
He's dead.
That's right.
Your competition was literally blown off the street.
And given the nature of your relationship with the victim, you can understand why we're here.
I may have been angry, but I would never take the life of another man.
Thank you, Mr.
We'll get back to you.
- Not feeling it? - Were you? No.
I found TATP trace on the glass bottle fragment from the blast site, and it looks like it matches the hot sauce on his cart, but there are thousands of those in New York City.
And unless we have hard science connecting him to the crime scene-- All we have is motive.
Yeah, and after talking to him, even that's questionable.
- Hey.
- If it ain't Dr.
- Anybody ask for me? - Don't worry.
I, uh, covered for you.
I told them your subway broke down.
- Thanks.
- Mm-hmm.
Meanwhile, I was about to run this melted take-out box through the video spectral comparator.
If we want to read what's inside, I think we'd better peel a few layers back.
- Detective Messer.
- Yeah.
- Dr.
- That's me.
We're with the NYPD Health Services.
We're performing drug tests this morning.
Both of your names have been selected.
Yeah, but I was already tested earlier this year.
I was tested twice in the last two months.
The tests are performed at random, and they may be repeated.
Follow me, please.
All right.
You heard the man.
Let's go pee in a cup.
Have you ever tried it? You mean weed? Damn.
- Leberspätzle.
- Excuse me? Forgive me, but I fancy myself a bit of a gourmand, and I don't mind telling you that I once took a summer course at the Bavarian Culinary Academy, where my preparation of leberspätzle received no fewer than two honorable mentions.
But I suppose you're wondering why that matters.
I am.
Meet the potato ricer.
I knew I recognized it.
It's a critical tool for making leberspätzle, not to mention pressing moisture from all kinds of food ingredients.
I mean, it's a necessary part of any true chef's kitchen.
And consistent with the wound on Derby Chasen's chest.
- Mm-hmm.
- Thanks, Sid.
Auf Wiedersehen.
So Odelin Gonzales appears to be as much of a saint as I feared.
According to the pastor of his church, at the time of the blast, Gonzales had volunteered to feed the homeless at a shelter downtown, nowhere near the food festival.
Then how the hell did this guy end up dead? Bird nest soup.
- Bird nest soup? - Yeah.
It's a Chinese soup that costs 100 bucks a bowl.
- You wanna know why? - Because it's made with the rare nest of the Chinese cave swallow.
And do you know how they make their nests? Adam Bird spit.
Yeah, when the saliva dries, the nests are imported for, like, 2,000 a kilo, and then soaked and turned into this gelatinous blob.
- Then strained with a potato ricer.
- A potato ricer? That could explain the transfer of bird saliva trace to Derby Chasen's shirt.
Well, there's only a few places in Manhattan that are selling bird nest soup, and one of them happens to be the last known employer of Derby Chasen-- Bistro Zai Jian.
So all this time we've been looking at food trucks, we should've been focused on fine dining.
Let's go see if murder is on the menu.
Let's go, let's go.
We need to move, guys.
No, no, no.
This is drier than the Sahara.
Come on.
- More hoisin, more hoisin.
- You got it.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I told you to dust the pork with cinnamon, not bury it! - Yeah, okay, okay.
- Come on.
Leeks, leeks.
Where are my leeks? You call those leeks? They look like overcooked socks.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Where are you going? I make the food taste good, you make it look good.
You got it? Come on.
Somebody please show these people to the dining room.
- Broxton Langley? - Your server will be with you in a minute.
Detectives Taylor and Danville, NYPD.
We'd like to speak with you about Derby Chasen.
All right.
Here's all you need to know about that ungrateful ass-face.
He worked for me for two years.
I taught him everything he knows.
- Then he had the balls to steal from me.
- Steal from you? Not only did I find out that he was moonlighting on a taco truck on his days off, but worse, he was using several of my recipes.
So you confronted him? Hell, yes, I confronted him.
Hey! You got a hell of a lot of nerve to park this truck a block from my restaurant.
Take it easy, all right? I'm just here for the food festival.
You mean truck stop.
I thought you had talent, but look at you.
You think that I'm gonna stand by and let you waste all my hard work on some freaking roach coach? Hey! It's a lot better than the high-priced slop you're serving.
I make more at lunch than you do in a month.
You keep this up, and I promise you, I will fry your ass right here where you stand.
Turned the heat up a little high, don't you think? - What the hell you talking about? - We think you went back for seconds.
Derby Chasen's truck exploded at that festival.
He was killed in the blast.
And we have a nice table waiting for you downtown.
Chef Schmuck got himself all lawyered up? He agreed to come down for further questioning but now won't say anything on advice of counsel.
- So where does that leave us? - The Hotel Hyperion.
I found a take-out box at the scene of the blast.
There was some type of writing inside.
So I ran it through the video spectral comparator to see if I could decipher what it was.
- That the address of the hotel? - Yeah.
And the room number's vacant now, but I can tell you who rented it out the day of the blast.
Gus Stilton.
Why do I know that name? Well, for one thing, he owns the World on Wheels truck.
Thought that was Derby Chasen.
It turns out Derby only owned a 50% stake.
- So the two of them are partners.
- Yeah.
But Gus has six other trucks on top of that.
And that's not all he has.
That's why I know him.
- What can I get for you? - Can I get a number three special, please? That'll be five bucks.
See you around.
What can I get you? Give me one of them tacos.
- Extra sauce? - Yeah.
On the outside.
- Hi, baby.
- Hey.
- You here for the number three special? - Am I gonna get everything I paid for? Well, you like what you see, don't you? Oh, yeah.
In that case, I'm all yours.
On second thought, I'm not that hungry.
Let's go.
Quite a glamorous line of work you've chosen for yourself, Mia.
Well, there's worse ways to make a living.
Yeah, and I'm sure you tell yourself that every time another strange man leaves your bed, unable to look you in the eye.
At least I wasn't on the streets.
How did you pull this one off, Gus? Because the last time I ran you in for pandering, you were trying to keep warm with some of your girls under a train track in Queens.
Guess who had the blanket, by the way? What can I say? Won some money at the track, invested in a truck.
Rags to riches, bitches.
It really was nicer than before.
All my clients were mostly younger, cooler.
Nothing cooler than turning tricks for a bunch of food truck johns.
- Tell me about Gus Stilton.
- He's a nice guy.
- You're a pimp.
- I'm an entrepreneur.
Running a food truck as a front for a prostitution ring makes you a criminal.
And blowing one of them up-- that makes you a murderer.
How did he feel about Derby Chasen? Good at first.
Derby was sweet.
Used to cruise the food truck scene when he'd get off work at the restaurant.
Then Gus offered him a job on the truck.
He was a good cook.
Business was booming.
All he had to do was serve you on the side.
I'm not the only one who worked for them.
I'm sure once everybody else saw how successful he was, he was having to turn girls away.
Trouble is, Derby started turning customers away, too.
- Really? Why is that? - Once Derby owned half the truck, he told Gus he was through selling anything other than food.
We got a great following, man, and it's growing every day.
We're doing fine without all that other stuff.
Listen, cookie, I like your food.
I really do.
But do you think people actually come here to eat? Huh? The "other stuff" you want to drop from the menu earns another five bills every time somebody orders.
I don't care, all right? The truck is half mine.
Oh, yeah? Well, let me tell you something.
I put you in the truck.
One way or another, I can take you out.
Oh! It was a simple disagreement between business partners.
Come on, guys.
We had the perfect operation going.
Food up front, dessert on the side, huh? No more standing on street corners, cash being laundered through the trucks, and the whole thing was completely off your radar.
So you tell me, huh? Why the hell would I blow it all up? Well, for one thing, it wasn't his only truck.
So if Derby Chasen wasn't gonna play by his rules, Gus Stilton could've just blown it up out of spite and collected the insurance.
It's possible.
But right now, all we got on him is a sex ring.
There's no real evidence yet to tie him to the blast.
Same with our chef, Broxton Langley.
Odelin Gonzales has an alibi as well.
Still, we got a burned-up body lying down in Autopsy, without a single lead on our killer.
- Come on, guys.
I want some answers.
- Flack's rounding up a few rival pimps that might have issues with Gus Stilton, and I'm going over a list of girls that worked for him.
What about you, Hawkes? - Hawkes! - Oh, I'm sorry, Mac.
I guess I'm just drawing blanks like everybody else.
Speak for yourself.
I figured out what that hardened gel was on the propane tank.
It was glue.
High-temperature bonding, ceramic adhesive, to be exact.
"Used for the repair of glass, china, plastic, metal"-- Right.
But that didn't help me narrow things down until I found something else.
Ceramic glue is really sticky, right? So I decided to take a look at the fragments around the glue to see if there was maybe some trace that was left behind.
- And you found a print.
- Yes, I did.
A partial ridge detail from a man's right thumb caught in a smudge in the glue.
- Please tell me you got a hit in AFIS.
- With priors for arson, reckless endangerment, and possession of a weapon for sticking a pipe bomb in a landlord's mailbox.
Guess what his name was.
Odelin Gonzales.
The hot dog vendor? Got half a dozen witnesses putting him in a church shelter, feeding the homeless.
Because he was.
That's not the guy I'm talking about.
Odelin Gonzales, NYPD! Don, look out! You all right? I'm good.
He's the guy that bumped into me at the festival.
Odelin Gonzales Junior.
You sure made a mess of things.
- Did what I had to do.
- Commit murder? Endanger the lives of dozens of people? There was no other way.
My father couldn't see the future staring him in the face.
Week after week, he'd file those complaints, and month after month, they'd still be ignored.
The truck kept coming, the crowds kept coming.
How's he gonna compete with that? The way everybody else does-- work harder.
That's what I thought.
I even told him so.
Order number five.
Who's next? Who's next? Two fries coming up at 7.
Here's your change.
All right.
Thank you.
Don't let him get to you, Papi.
The food isn't even that good.
Tell that to all the people standing in line.
I made 18 bucks today, O.
Forget about feeding the homeless.
How am I gonna feed myself if this keeps up? Hey, uh, you-- You're right.
Everything will be okay.
I got two fries coming up right now for you guys, all right? But that feeling didn't last long.
Especially once you figured out what was really going on at that truck.
Here you go, man.
Have a good one.
All right.
I'll take a number three special.
If you guys are gonna share, it's gonna cost extra.
I'm no idiot.
The best meal in town isn't worth 500 bucks.
Trust me, man.
- What you got? - Yeah.
All right, bros.
I know where this is.
Let's go have some fun.
Let's hit it.
** If you're a cop, I'm only engaging in private acts between consenting adults, and no money has changed hands.
You're a hooker? Okay, then, you're not a cop.
Um, sorry, sweetie.
I'm a little booked up right now, so if you want to eat, you're gonna have to order like everybody else.
That's when I knew nothing my old man did would ever make a difference.
So you decided to play with fire again and do something your father would never do.
You want some fries? I'm gonna make them back there for you.
You made a homemade bomb from one of his empty hot sauce bottles and attached it to the propane tank using glue from the shop where you work.
But you made one mistake.
You left your thumbprint behind.
When you lit that fuse and walked away, you put dozens of people's lives in danger.
And you killed an innocent man.
He was far from innocent.
That's not for you to judge.
What have you done? - You want to talk to me? - To be honest, I'd rather not talk about this at all.
I got the results of your latest drug test.
Not high enough to trigger termination, but there are trace levels of cannabis in your bloodstream, Hawkes.
I swear to you I wasn't using.
It's nothing but secondhand exposure.
Just bad luck.
You gotta believe me.
Like I believe you when you call in sick? This isn't about bad luck, it's about bad choices.
I know.
You're right, and I'm sorry.
But, Mac, sometimes, I feel like this job dictates every single choice I make.
I mean, other people get to leave their work at their office.
They cut loose, have fun.
But we're different.
We do a lot of good, but sometimes it seems like that's all we're allowed to do.
That comes with the badge.
Surely Camille understands that.
Yeah, she does.
She does.
But this is the first time in a long time I've had a relationship that's even worth getting into trouble over, you know? There's no department policy against having a good time, but you need to be careful.
And I need you to show up here tomorrow in the right frame of mind to honor your oath and get things done.
Are we clear? Good.
Then go home.
And get some sleep.
Sorry to drop by unannounced.
Um, I just couldn't stop thinking about you.
Camille, I can't even tell you what kind of day I've had.
Okay? All I know I just gotta get some rest, okay? - Oh, okay.
- Okay.
But, um, you sure about that?