09x10 - The Mystery in the Meat

[bunniefuu]

(indistinct conversations)

Excuse me, may I ask what the special is today?

What does it look like?

Honestly, I wouldn't know where to start.

It's beef stew, Einstein. Maybe it will put some meat on those puny chicken arms of yours. Next.

Hey, dork.

What'd you get me for lunch today?

Trevor, give me back my food.

Or what? What, are you gonna tell a teacher?

Yes, the school has a anti-bullying policy, Trevor.

You're such an idiot, Heller.

Actually, a more appropriate invective would be "nerd".

An idiot would be better exemplified...

You see this stew?

My stew. Yeah, well, I'm gonna eat it and there is nothing you can do about it, idiot.

Mmm, mmm.

That is so good, and I still have my lunch money.

Wow.

Damn.

Quel dommage.

You broke a bicuspid.

I didn't break anything.

What the...

The stew...

Oh, it's people!

The stew!

It-It's people!

(screaming)
It's people!

(gasping, screaming continues)

(retching)

(indistinct shouting)

BOOTH: Mmm.

Oh, that is by far, hands down, the best chili I've ever had.

Really?

The diner must have employed a more accomplished chef while we were on our honeymoon.

No, Bones, there's no new chef.

It's the same chili as always.

I don't understand.

You said... We're married, Bones.

The sun is brighter, the air is, it's crisper.

(sniffing)
The food tastes better than ever.

Air quality and the sun's thermonuclear core have nothing to do with... Love, Bones, love. It changes everything.

I mean, don't you feel different now that you're married?

My left hand does.

I'm very aware of the ring, but I'll adapt.

That's very big of you.

Well, no, it's nothing, really, because I love you.

(phone rings)
Right, good answer.

Mmm.

Booth.

They found the body in what?

Is everything all right, Booth?

(groans)

I lost my appetite.

Why? Hold that.

CAROLINE: My boss doesn't like this one.

Federal programs paying for cannibalism isn't sitting pretty on Capitol Hill.

The gonion angle of the mandible indicates the victim was male.

What kind sick mind serves a person to kids?

Maybe one of them wasn't ready for a pop quiz.

Are all the teachers accounted for?

Yeah. My question is how did he get in the stew? Well, wait a second, is that a student, because, you know, if the school was serving kids, the press is gonna eat us alive.

Wear on the right central incisor suggest age is mid-40s.

That's something. And the marbling on this piece is consistent with human musculature.

Ooh, tongue.

Size and shape also human.

The way the bones are cut and crushed, the victim was processed.

Processed?

Oh, I agree, the tissue shows evidence of being marinated.

Are you saying he came in a can?

Most definitely.

This is why I only buy free-range.

Keep me informed, cherie.

I have a... lunch.

BOOTH: All right, let's pack this up and whisk it back to the Jeffersonian.

Come on.

This is all the stew that's been processed recently.

These cans are all from the same batch that the school board purchased.

None of the remains we found were larger than six centimeters in length.

(sighs) That sounds like he must have gone through the meat processor.

It cuts uniformly with very little waste.

What about the cameras on the factory floor?

None that I know of, but I'm in research and development primarily.

Our CEO, Sam Gifford, can fill you in on security.

He's flying in from his place in Colorado.

BRENNAN: Chip fragment of a spinous process. Whoa, wait a second, you're saying he's spread out through all these cans?

Seems that way. I don't understand how this could've happened.

We make a good product.

We put in an abundance of nutrients, flavorings...

And people.

So are all these cans accounted for? I had drivers picking up every can from that batch.

They're all here. Seems that the school was the only place that served it.

How did this batch even pass inspection?

Human remains have a different fat content.

Not to mention... It was inspected.

All our product is, and this batch underperformed the quality check, which is why it was diverted to a second-tier market and not sold to a grocery store.

Public schools are a second-tier market?

(scoffs) Good luck spinning that at the PTA.

Clearly, this was just a horrible accident.

Someone must have fallen into the machine.

No, this was no accident, Booth.

There were no clothes and the cooked tissue shows no signs of bruising along the incision lines.

Oh, my God.

"Oh, my God," what? The victim was k*lled prior to being fed into the meat processor.

Canned m*rder? Oh.

That's a first.

♪ Bones 9x10 ♪
The Mystery in the Meat
Original Air Date on November 22, 2013

♪ Main Title Theme ♪ The Crystal Method

♪

Whoa, how's it going?

Revolting.

All part of the job.

It doesn't phase me in the least.

Have you had this one tested for mental illness?

DAISY: Yes.

And I passed.

I find that very hard to believe.

Okay, let me be more specific, have you found more human body parts?

I have. There are fragments of human bone in every can, so it makes sense that the meat chunks are also human, but that's your area.

Thank you for reminding me.

Ooh, right zygomatic.

Angela needs a complete skull as soon as possible so she can start the facial reconstruction.

Remodeling along the anterior aspect of the frontal skull bone.

How are you gonna do a full tox screen when all the human meat has been heated up to the point of sterilization?

Cross my fingers and hope something survived the process.

Not so sure that finger crossing is the best method, scientifically.

Infuriating, right?

This remodeling is dated.

This incision is consistent with a frontal craniotomy scar.

SAROYAN: The victim underwent brain surgery.

We can cross-reference the surgical technique.

The precision is exquisite.

No jagged lines, diamond excise shape.

There couldn't be more than two or three neurosurgeons that could've done this.

The squints haven't found any clothing.

So he was k*lled, stripped and tossed into the meat mulcher.

Oh, for God's sake, I wish I'd gone into modern dance like my mother wanted.

All right, look, I think we can assume that the m*rder and the mulching both happened at the same place.

(computer beeping)

(chimes)
Got a hit here.

Squints I.D.'d the victim.

Howard Compton, 41.

SWEETS: He had an operation for anosmia.

He was bald? He couldn't smell.

Chemist, biologist, psychophysicist.

He was a food scientist. Says here he invented Lava Chips.

Lava Chips? I mean, come on.

That's, like, the best snack ever.

I love them. Right?

I find them a bit spicy.

That's 'cause they're made from lava. Well, not literally.

Yeah, they are, actually. Reported missing by his business partner, Agatha Blume, five days ago.

You talk to her.

What are you gonna do?

Inform the press that you're making great headway in catching the m*rder*r who turned a school full of children into cannibals.

Well, yeah, that's important, too.

Yeah.

MONTENEGRO: Oh, don't rush off.

I want to dish about married life.

It's perplexing, actually.

Ever since the wedding, Booth seems to think that everything is miraculously evolved.

Food tastes better, sex is more passionate, even the sun is hotter, which I tell him is merely due to climate change.

Are you really telling me that you don't feel any different now that you're married?

Why would I?

Our situation is essentially unchanged.

I think the wedding happened too quickly for you.

There was no natural transition.

You didn't even have a bachelorette party to help you say good-bye to your single life.

We have to fix that.

But I'm already married. I know, sweetie, but it's not official until you have a bachelorette party.

We could have a potluck dinner with our husbands and significant others.

That's not a party.

I'm talking about a girl's night out.

Like booze and flirting and dancing and more booze and more flirting.

Thank you, but no.

I should go.

Booth is waiting for me.

Booth comes first now, huh?

That's not true.

Christine comes first, then Booth.

Do I even make the top ten?

Definitely.

Bachelorette party, seriously?

Yes.

I told her it was a little late for that.

Then she asked me if she was still in my top ten people.

Oh, boy. Which she is, even though you don't like her anymore.

Oh, geez. Why do you keep uttering nonspecific and meaningless exclamations?

Did you say no to Angela because of me?

Well, I know how you feel, and I didn't want to make you even more uncomfortable just because...

Okay, look, Bones, Angela is your best friend, and obviously, I've come between you two.

Well, if I have to choose... You don't have to choose.

You can have both; you should have both.

Look, you know, let her throw you a bachelorette party.

That's what a best friend does.

I mean, you can't deny her that.

Are you sure? Yes.

I'm positive.

Sounded fun.

Angela said there would be excessive alcohol consumption and flirting.

Oh, wow. More exclamations.

Let's just, you know, focus on work for a while, okay?

Sure. Yeah.

Donut dogs, grilled cheese flavored chips, are you kidding me?

Wow, chocolate covered graham cr*cker cereals?

(chuckles)

All this junk food must've caused some deaths, too.

Wow, look at this, huh? Yogurt drink box, all natural flavoring. What does that mean?

Cat urine could be a natural flavor.

WOMAN: Sorry to keep you waiting.

Since Howard disappeared, I've been run off my feet.

I assume you're here to tell me he's deceased?

Yes, m*rder*d.

I see.

That's upsetting.

Did he die at Kettle Top Stew?

Well, how did you know? I didn't m*rder Howard, if that's what you're thinking.

I'm a bromatologist with acute hyperosmia.

BOOTH: What? She's a food scientist with a highly refined olfactory sense.

She has a very good sense of smell.

You're saying you could smell where Howard was m*rder*d?

I've spent the last decade differentiating the 10,000 odors humans are capable of smelling.

On her, I discerned a subtle yet unmistakable bouquet of Kettle Top Stew and antiseptic wash.

Are you a coroner?

Forensic anthropologist.

Howard and I developed the recipe for that stew.

BOOTH: Well, now that Howard's dead, the company's all yours, correct?

No.

I'm merely an employee with a small profit participation.

Would you care to hear my theory?

Yes. I think Howard was working on something that could have been worth a considerable amount of money.

Something bigger than Lava Chips.

Unfortunately, he did not consult with me.

But I could analyze his formulas, calculate the bliss-point, see if any are worthy of m*rder. BOOTH: Uh, no.

We have, uh, guys that do that.

See, we have a search warrant here.

If you have any questions, I'd be glad to help.

Perhaps if I smelled Howard in person...

I find I'm quite saddened by Howard's death.

It's a common by-product of death.

Hmm.

(quietly): Amazing.

She remind you of anyone you might know?

No.

But I find her quite unique and delightful.

Hey, Daisy.

(sighs) I hate Oliver. Who doesn't?

But after a while you start to like hating him.

Yeah, I'm not there yet. Hey, listen.

I ran an analysis on the contents of the stew and I figured out why it failed its quality check.

Because it was full of a human... who I wish was Oliver Wells?

Nope. The meat from the corpse did not impact flavor at all. Look.

The stew was over-spiced.

Excessive amounts of garlic powder, red pepper and oregano.

But my understanding is that the assembly line is fully automated.

The computers would have parsed out uniform amounts of each spice.

Yeah, exactly, which means the extra spices were not added by the computer.

Do you think the k*ller added spice to help obscure the scent of stewed human being?

It's possible.

Oliver Wells should not antagonize me.

Working here has given me a pretty good knowledge of how to k*ll and how to get away with it.

Okay, I'm gonna go out on a limb and ask: Daisy, do you want me to have a chat with Oliver?

No. What?

No, no. Not necessary.

Big girl here.

But if you want to, do it.

Who am I to cramp your style?

(sighs)

Schools are considered second-tier markets, along with prisons, senior citizens' homes...

SWEETS: Schools.

Where children are our future?

And where ketchup is a vegetable.

I didn't make the laws.

Besides, a child's palate isn't developed yet.

They don't care. Wow.

Dr. Sweets, the food is perfectly healthy.

It simply didn't pass muster with our more discerning customers.

Do you think Tryon Foods is going to survive this scandal?

We will discontinue that product line and just give the stew another name. Mm-hmm.

And you hired Howard Compton as a consultant?

Yes.

He had a proven track record in making foods irresistible.

With our Kettle Top Stew, he was developing a healthier, low-sodium version of the brand.

Don't you already have internal people for this?

Yes.

But Howard was the brains behind Lava Chips.

I was going to offer him a permanent job with us.

I thought you already had a head of research and development.

Yes, Susan Lauderbach.

She would keep her job, but report to Howard.

Okay.

So she was passed over for the promotion.

After working for you for years.

Susan's a wonderful person.

I would trust her with my life.

Maybe you couldn't trust her with Howard's.

I just don't understand.

I mean, what's wrong with food that's grown in the ground rather than something that has a chemistry set poured on top of it?

Well, the argument is that genetically modified crops improve yields and require fewer pesticides.

GMOs haven't improved yields or significantly decreased pesticide use. It's just another way for industrial farming to make money without even bothering to discover the risks associated with genetically modifying our food.

I'll go. I'd like to have one.

Uh... what?

Where are you going?

And what are you having?

I thought you didn't want to eat GMOs.

No, the bachelorette party.

I was wrong to dismiss you.

You really have to work on your transitions, Sweetie... but that's... that's great! Transitions?

Why do I have to work on them if it's great?

No, I think she means the bachelorette party.

She's happy you agreed.

This is a very confusing conversation.

Forget that.

Oh, my God, we're all gonna have so much fun!

All?

Yes, I can't have a party without you.

So when are we gonna do this?

Tonight.

What? No, no.

We have a case.

The wedding was planned in a day.

It's tradition. And you have two interns.

I'm not sure.

It's fine with Cam. It is?

Totally.

And I know the best place ever.

There's this country-western bar outside of town.

It's got this bull that we can ride, and there's line dancing, and there's these hot guys in chaps... some of whom aren't even gay.

I do like horses, so I will feel very comfortable there.

(laughs)

k*ll Howard Compton?

Me?

Why would I do that? Well, let's see...

I mean, he was gonna take your job.

I mean, there's motive there.

He was found in the factory where you work.

I mean, you tested the stew and you sent it out for canning.

This case sort of prosecutes itself, cherie. - Yeah.

And I appreciate that, because I have a big workload.

I didn't k*ll him. I liked Howard.

Whoa, whoa. That's not true.

CAROLINE: Maybe you tried to steal his work?

The formula for putting meat flavoring into the... meat?

That just seems crazy, doesn't it?

Processing removes flavor which has to be replaced through additives.

Otherwise, it's tasteless.

And I wasn't stealing it.

We were working on it together.

But he was still gonna be offered your job.

Think about what the jury's gonna say about all this.

Okay, so I hated him a little.

But I didn't k*ll him.

Where were you five days ago? Five days ago?

That's when he was k*lled?

CAROLINE: You want to check your day planner?

Maybe it says "k*ll Howard."

That'll jog your memory.

That was a Thursday.

I was out of town.

Doing research on the use of invertebrates as an alternative form of protein.

I'm sorr... inverte-what?

Bugs, Agent Booth.

If we put more bugs in our food, we'd have a much cheaper and better source of protein.

Bug jerky? Bug burgers?

That isn't gonna happen on my watch.

Okay, you have anyone who can, uh, I don't know, corroborate this story?

There were 12 other researchers in the lab.

We worked all night.

And for your information, fried crickets are a wonderful snack food with no empty calories. Okay.

That's... exciting. Looks like I won't be going to her house for dinner.

You ladies are actually leaving?

Yes.

You and Oliver should be fine for the night.

I've never seen you leave during a case before.

The case is progressing.

Dr. Wells is capable of further examination.

I've left a detailed list of what I expect accomplished upon my return in the morning.

What about me? I'm capable.

You're coming with us.

Really?!

Unless you don't want to.

Of course I do.

I can't believe this!

We're homies!

Right. Okay, so...

This means that I'm in charge of the lab, so I'll stay on him.

As long as you realize this case comes to a grinding halt without my expertise.

If I may... when I was cleaning the bones, I noticed partially remodeled comminuted fractures to the right anterior carpals and metacarpals.

Did you run a microscopic analysis to determine the age of the injury?

I did. WELLS: Only because I told her to.

Your need for attention is exhausting.

The fractures are approximately two weeks old.

According to the victim's medical file, two weeks ago, he got a prescription for codeine, claiming to his doctor that he hurt his hand during a fall.

So it's a reasonable explanation. Well, no, a fall most likely would have resulted in a Colles' fracture, not a comminuted one, which is most commonly associated with blunt force trauma.

If someone smashed in the guy's hand, why would Compton lie about it?

Well, maybe the victim was scared that something worse might happen if he talked.

Like getting m*rder*d.

This is excellent work, Dr. Wells.

I hope that it continues and I'm not disappointed on my return and I don't have to dismiss you.

Until morning.

It's you and me, brother.

But I'm in charge.

SWEETS: You did a good thing, Booth.

I know you and Angela haven't exactly been friends lately.

Oh, wait a second, this wasn't about Angela.

I just wanted Bones to have a bachelorette party.

Okay.
"Okay"? Don't say "okay" to me.

Okay.

That wasn't an "okay" okay, it was just an okay.

See, you don't even know how to say just "okay."

Okay... You said...

All right, forget it. You know what?

Susan Lauderbach's alibi is rock solid.

All the other bug-eaters vouched for her.

So what's next?

Well, according to squint central, Compton's hand was bludgeoned pretty bad about two weeks ago.

Then he lied to his doctor about it.

He didn't report it to the police, either.

But he did call them before the injury.

Keep reading, huh?

'Cause he thought somebody was following him. - Oh, okay.

He thought he was being followed, a car tried to run him off the road.

Next day, his front tire was slashed.

A week later, he's assaulted.

Two weeks later he's m*rder*d.

This is the activity of someone obsessed with Compton.

Now, as the obsession grows, the actions become more violent.

Mmm. Ex-girlfriend?

If an ex was stalking him, I don't think he would have reported the first incident to the police.

Cops had a make and the license plate of the car, but the DMV couldn't find a match.

He was being followed, you know?

He probably had trouble encoding visual stimuli.

Could've switched letters to numbers...

I could come up with a list of alternatives.

See, now that is helpful.

Okay.

See? That's a good "okay," too.

That was a good one? Yes.

HODGINS:
Compton's computer, here, has the formulas for the new food products he was working on when he d*ed.

Considering some of these snack foods are worth billions, I bet some of those formulas were worth k*lling for.

Man, the chemicals and additives in this stuff, it's outrageous.

Your hot sauce would've interested him. Hey.

Our hot sauce is not junk food, thank you very much.

There are no preservatives, no artificial flavors, all organic and all natural. Oh, I like it.

I have it every morning on my eggs.

Wait, you buy it? Yeah.

Is it not selling?

Yeah, no, 10,000 cases so far.

Well, that's a beginning.

Although you did lose billions, so that's barely a raindrop in the ocean.

Okay, for-for a minute there I thought you were nice, Oliver.

Well, I'm trying.

I mean, you're the only person around here that I can tolerate.

Probably because we share a similar look so I endow you with an interest and an intelligence that you may not even possess.

Let's just work.

Okay.

This has potential.

"Butter Boy."

High fructose corn syrup, soy, sugar, salt.

(crunches)

That's a tasty little nugget of obesity.

All right.

How about this?
"Meat-Pops."

Preservatives up the wazoo and artificial pretty much everything else.

Man, I am not touching that.

All right.
"Hot Bacon."

Well, this has to be some kind of condiment or something.

It's pretty good, actually.

That stuff is awesome.

Seriously, try that.

Oh, my God, it's like bacon is cooking right inside my mouth. Oh.

Ooh, that's pay dirt.

I mean, who doesn't love bacon, right?

Okay, let's see what happened in the testing.

Mmm...

Wait.

There are a whole mess of emails about Hot Bacon from someone named Raymond McCants.

"Compton, your delays are costing me millions!

Produce and deliver my product, or you'll pay!"

Okay. According to his patent application, Hot Bacon is not a food product. It's a... it's a bacon-flavored... sexual lubricant.

Ah!

Uh!

Definitely worth k*lling for.

Oh, God.

(bus door opens, shuts)

I really need a drink.

(chuckles)

(cow bellows in distance)

p*rn? I'm not in p*rn. Sexual toys are not p*rn.

They have another name. Guess what that other name is.

Okay, sir, you need to relax Marital aids. p*rn!

I'm in the business of helping people who love each other, love each other.

Right. You're a boon to society.

That's exactly what I am.

Did you send these e-mails, Mr. McCants?

Oh, right.

I'll take that as a yes.

You think I threatened Howard?

Let's take a look here.

"If you bail on me, you will live to regret it. I will hunt you down, and shove the largest..."

He kept missing delivery dates on a particular item, but I didn't k*ll him.

And what item would that be?

Bacon-flavored lube. We had a contract.

"Bacon-flavored lube"?

Intrigued, right?

Bacon and sex. Tough to pick a favorite.

Put them together, and that's what magic is, my friend.

That's why there's bacon cologne, bacon condoms.

But time is money in the lube game.

Someone else could have cornered that market first.

So, you send him a few threatening e-mails...

Bluster. I bluster.

Howard ignores you.

You get mad, so you follow him home one night.

No, you got it wrong. You slash his tire, you break his hand.

Finally, you follow him to the factory, where you k*ll him, and you feed him into the meat machine.

I'm not saying another word. I'm a businessman.

And smart businessmen know, not to talk to the Feds, not without a lawyer. Okay.

One question. Hmm?

The name "meat machine."

You know if that's copyrighted?

All right.

MAN: Speed freaks, getting up to the top of that hill.

Okay! Okay, uh, this used to be a country-western bar.

BRENNAN: This reminds me of a place I went to in Somalia.

SAROYAN: Exactly. We should turn around and try to salvage a good night's sleep.

Why?! No, this is my party.

Seriously, I think I sent that big one there to prison.

I like it rough, but only if there's a safe word.

Well, they are looking at us like we're on the menu.

Aw, they're just guys.

Big smelly guys, but what are we afraid of?

CAROLINE: Me? Beheading.

Look, we'll get a drink, and if it gets ugly, then we'll make a run for it.

I would like a drink.

SAROYAN: Oh, God.

That one back there is definitely a fugitive.

Five sh*ts with alcohol, please.

Lube aftertaste still haunting you?

It lingers. I'm on my fifth pack of gum.

The right clavicle has been trisected.

On this medial angle, there is a perimortem sharp force injury.

A stabbing?

See, if the att*ck, came at a downward- facing angle, then the stabbing implement would have severed the subclavian artery coming directly off the aorta.

Meaning he bled out.

See that? The annoying girl leaves, and we immediately find the cause of death.

Okay, about Daisy.

There is nothing that you could say that would make me like her.

Oliver, she is one of us. You are not, yet.

The fastest way for you to become one of us is to be kind to her.

What if I don't care about being one of you?

I think you do.

Good job on the clavicle thing.

I noticed that Howard Compton's tire was slashed less than a month before he was stabbed to death.

Okay.

Well, it could be classic escalation.

One day you s*ab a guy's tire...

...a few weeks later, you s*ab him. Okay, that's great. How's that help?

Well, maybe the lab can compare what stabbed the tire with what stabbed the victim.

Hey... that's good work there, Sweets.

What are you worried about?

What do you mean? You checked your watch.

I'm just seeing what time it is.

Is it the bachelorette party?

Sweets, Caroline and Cam are with Bones.

I got a federal prosecutor and a federal coroner with Bones.

I mean, how wild can it get?

♪ Seven years, about to knock 'em all back ♪
♪ Feel like a million since the mirror done cracked ♪
♪ Lucky and lucky as a matter of fact ♪
♪ I'm b*rned in my brain ALL: Whoo!

♪ Count a lucky star, I'll make it all right ♪

ALL: Yeah!

♪ b*rned in my brain

♪ b*rned in my brain

♪ b*rned in my brain

(all cheer)

♪ b*rned in my bed

(chanting): Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!

(all cheer)

MAN: Here, here we go!

(groans and cheers)

♪ Does not mean that you can mess me around ♪

Ooh!

Dancing is essentially a mating ritual!

Huh? Most men respond to the hair tossing and pelvic thrusts, which suggests sex. I like it.

(laughs)

Hey, hey, hey! You're married, remember?

Not yet, Angela! This is my bachelorette party!

I am invoking Godel's Closed Timelike Curve with a Lorentzian manifold!

Hey, Curves, what do you say you and me go for a ride?

On your motorcycle?

No...
(both laugh)

I volunteer to take her place.

No, you don't. She doesn't.

This is a private party, actually, so...

(laughs)
CAM: Oh, God, here we go.

Get lost, skank.

Well, I am not a skank.

What's a skank? It sounds bad.

Oh, it's not that bad. I've been told I'm a skank.

Hey, get lost.

I've heard about bikers and their hogs.

This must be a hog.

CAM: Caroline! Gas on a fire.

Your boyfriend is far too unattractive for a women as exquisite as myself.

What?!

But you on the other hand are a suitable match.

ALL: Oh!

Go! Run!

Wow. You know how bikers always stick together?

MONTENEGRO: Yeah.

I think it applies to the girlfriends, too.

Catfight!

(whimpers)

Here we go! Get over here!

ALL: Oh!

Ooh, yeah!

Oh!

Take that!

Oh! Take her off!

(glass breaks)

Get 'em!

Punch her out!
(glass breaks)

Yep.

Although, I did not start the fight, I felt obligated to finish it.

You would have been
(laughs) very proud of me.

I would have. Okay, come on.

Let's just try to get inside, all right?

Oh! I got it. God, did I do that?

Okay, just sit down, have a seat. Okay. (laughs)

Okay, you know how many favors I had to call in so you guys wouldn't get arrested?

Yes.

Whoa!

One, you called the sheriff, and he let us go.

This is really nice.

It's nice, right? Yeah.
(laughs)

But not before you tried to steal his motorcycle.

Come on up. There you go.

I thought that was Moose's motorcycle.

She tried to punch Cam.

Moose. Okay, now, why don't we just get you upstairs?

Come on. Come on. No!

No, it's too far. This is good, this is great.

All right, listen, you know what?

Just relax. I'm gonna go get you a cold towel, all right?

Oh, cushion's so soft. I like this cushion.

Hey, do you know what it's called when you drink a sh*t off of a stranger's body?

Uh, I don't know. Body sh*ts?

How did you know that? Oh! Lucky guess.

Okay, here, try this here. Ah... Oh.

Oh, that feels, nice.

Oh, it's nice, huh? Did you have fun, or was it all about the fighting?

We danced on a bar.

Wow. In a line.

Does that sound like fun?

Sounds like a blast.

I told Angela that it was your idea that I should go.

She feels bad that she hated you.

And I told her that you're the best person ever... - Oh!

...even though that can't be confirmed empirically.

But I don't give a crap.

And then I told her some of the things that we did in the bathtub last week and...

No, no, no, no. You didn't say about the bath tub, did you?

Do you want to do some of that right now?

If we did that, you would drown, okay? Now let's just get some sleep, all right?

But I'm not tired.

Okay. Shh.

I'm not tired.

Okay.

I love you, Booth.

I love you, too, Bones.

All right. (sighs)

(groans)

This stuff tastes like hate.

That'd be the lycopenes, Good for flushing out toxins, but they all get stuck on the tongue.

Done.

Ugh! And blech!

You know, I hate to admit it, but this is actually starting to make me feel better.

Good. Then we can get started.

Oh! Uh!

DAISY: Can't you turn the brightness down?

No. While you were all drunk, Dr. Hodgins and I investigated the victim's slashed tires.

I took a cast of the puncture marks, and I scanned it into the Angelatron.

Mm. Okay. Well, my hand-eye coordination is starting to come back, so let me see what I can do.

Okay, so, the blade appears to be 3.81 centimeters in width with a serrated edge on one side, and a straight edge on the other.

Hmm. Could be a hunting Kn*fe.

Yeah, but what's odd, is...

..it's curved. Ah... there's my beautiful pugilist wife.

How ya doin'?

Ugh. Have you been eating bacon grease?

What? No. You-You're just hungover.

I ran an analysis of the particulates in the tire slash.

So, I found traces of honeysuckle, golden bell and confederate rose.

Flowers?

Yeah, I-I know what it is.

I use this tool when I plant.

The tire was stabbed by a Japanese garden Kn*fe.

Okay, so Bones was feeling a little worse for wear this morning.

So, I thought you might need a couple of coffee, huh?

Please, cherie.

That was not my first rodeo.

Maybe a taste. Ah-ha, okay.

So, it turns out that our victim made two transfers the same bank account last month.

$5,000 each.

That's a lot of money. Who to?

A woman by the name of Evelyn Cheevers, okay?

She runs the Coalition for Chemical Free Farming.

Her license plate is close enough to the one Compton reported following him.

Why would a food scientist be giving his money to someone whose goal was to put him out of business?

Maybe she found out that he was putting something even nastier in the food and he, you know, paid her off to-to keep quiet.

Says here she runs an organic garden nursery.

Yeah, check this out.

They sell the same Japanese gardening knives that was used to slash the victim's tire.

I like it when you don't make me work.

Especially today.

(chuckles)

WOMAN: Yes.

I slashed Howard's tire.

I'm not denying it, Agent Booth.

'Cause he stopped paying you off, right?

So, what did you have on him?

I'm-I'm not a blackmailer. I am a crusader.

Aw, okay, that's an interesting choice of word.

Crusaders k*lled for their cause.

I didn't k*ll anyone.

You were carrying a w*apon, okay?

You targeted Howard Compton.

Yes, I was following him.

And again, yes, I slashed his tire as a statement.

But he caught me, and I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but instead of calling the police, he asked if we could talk.

You're right.

I find it hard to believe.

Well, Howard was having second thoughts.

And he was actually reading some of my writing and he found that he agreed with what I'd been saying.

Large elements of the food industry are poisoning us.

What about the money?

He was funding our website and our PR campaign.

Okay, look.

If he thought he was poisoning people, why didn't he just quit his job? He was going to.

But he said there was someone that he had to expose.

And he had to be on the inside to do it.

Okay, and who was this someone?

He didn't tell me.

He said it was safer for both of us if I didn't know.

Look, I didn't k*ll Howard.

He and I were on the same team.

DAISY: You should've seen this, Oliver.

But you were expending too much effort trying to undermine me.

I assure you that takes no effort whatsoever.

Why are you so horrible?

I'm not.

I'm that first sip of a fine wine that you have not yet learned to appreciate.

You needed me, Ms. Wick? Yes.

Oliver made an error on the microsil cast of the victim's clavicle.

I now regret my bachelorette party.

This is the sharp force injury to the victim's clavicle at 400 times magnification.

See the half-moon crescent notch?

It's like whatever stabbed the victim had a hole along the side.

My first thought was a needle.

Like what anesthesiologists use with a lateral irrigation hole.

The only problem is the gauge on the injury is too big.

There aren't any medical needles that size.

That's because it isn't a medical needle.

It's an injector used to marinate meat.

Oh, my God, that's it.

Of course it is.

Excellent work, Ms. Wick.

Uh, Dr. Brennan, it's important to note that had I not tempered Ms. Wick's hangover, she would've never found this evidence.

So simple logic dictates that the credit should be mine.

Shared at best, Dr. Wells.

At best.

A better man would say good job.

It was excellent actually.

And you're welcome.

You recognize this? It's a marinade injector.

Mm-hmm, why do you recognize it?

I designed it.

With Howard.

Is this what k*lled him?

I guess the question is, did you use this to k*ll Howard?

No.

You disliked him.

I dislike almost everyone.

I dislike you and I don't even know you.

Howard was gonna dump his company.

The same company you had to work for for ten years before you saw a profit.

It wouldn't be rational for me to k*ll Howard.

It would remove the last hope of keeping the company alive.

This wasn't a rational m*rder.

You know what my guess is?

My guess is that you begged him to keep the company alive, he refused, and you k*lled him out of rage.

It was impulsive, spontaneous.

I am neither of those things. I don't suppose you've ever met anyone like that.

I know someone a lot like that.

Would she m*rder someone without a very good reason?

No.

Then I guess what you'd better do is find a very good reason.

Sweetie, we've got something to show you.

Just a little film that Ms. Montenegro and I directed.

Together. I helped. Quite a lot.

This is a recreation of the victim's death.

See, once I saw the meat injector that was used to k*ll the victim, I got curious.

But I'm the one who pointed out that most needles have a plunger or backstop that limits the amount of fluid taken in or expressed. The point is the needle on the marinade injector was open-ended.

Based on the angle that the victim was stabbed...

(groans)

It's still awful every time I see it.

Of course!

Because the sub-clavian artery comes directly from the aorta, the blood pressure would have been intense.

And our m*rder*r would've been drenched in blood.

This is excellent work.

BOTH: Thank you. It makes up for whichever one of you mistook this bone for a human medial cuneiform.

Well, what is it?

It must be bovine.

That is incorrect.

It's equine.

As a senior intern here, Ms. Wick.

That makes this your mistake.

Equine.

That means it's from a horse?

It wasn't Daisy. I, uh, misidentified the bone.

Are you covering for her?

No. It's just, um, now that I look again it's obviously the transected navicular bone of a horse.

Silly me.

Please don't allow this to happen in the future.

It was my fault.

He's taking blame for something I did.

I think we already established that's not in my nature.

Can we move on, please?

Yes. Does this mean the stew was made out of horse?

Horse and human.

Don't be nice to me, it's weird.

You deal with it. This could have gotten him k*lled.

He knew someone was putting horse meat in the stew and was threatening to expose the company.

I'll let Booth and Sweets take care of the motive.

All we do is provide them with the science.

She's not fun at all, is she?

You've never seen Dr. Brennan dressed as a cowgirl drinking flaming sambucas fighting biker chicks.

Okay, I want details, please.

Come on, I was nice to you.

Horse meat? Which you fed to school children.

What you did was incredibly dangerous.

This horse meat wasn't properly inspected.

It could've been laced with phenylbutazone, which is toxic to bone marrow and on rare occasions can cause aplastic anemia if consumed.

Okay, so our quality control was off.

Nobody needs to die for that.

Well, the FBI forensic accountants are going through your records.

But for now, look what we got here.

You authorized the purchase of beef from this slaughterhouse in Mexico.

Beef.

This slaughterhouse doesn't produce beef. It only sells horse meat.

That's definitely something you would've known.

Agent Booth here thinks that Howard Compton found this out, and was going to tell the authorities.

So, you k*lled him and you tossed him in the horse meat.

I'm not going to confess to k*lling Howard Compton.

You have no proof.

Oh, we don't want you to confess, do we? - No.

That would be too difficult. Waste of time.

It is a waste of time.

So you know what we did?

We just got a search warrant so we can look in your hair.

Check my hair? Mm-hmm.

For what?

Positive.

You washed your hair a dozen times, but it wasn't enough.

All right, you under arrest, let's go.

Why are you handcuffing me?

Why? Because you m*rder*d Howard Compton.

That's why. Come on.

I was just leaving.

I know what you did.

You told Brennan to let me take her to that bachelorette party.

You knew we were drifting apart, and you fixed it. You know, Ange.

I just want Bones to have what's coming to her, that's all.

Yeah, I get it.

You wanted her to have her best friend back.

So, what about us?

Think we can be friends again?

I said some things, I know.

And I'm apologizing.

Look, Angela.

You know, you-you put Bones first.

Okay, I forgot about that for a while.

You think we could hug it out?

Not necessary, really.

Okay.

We're okay.

We're okay now, all right?

Everything's fine.

Aw, man, I miss this.
(chuckles)

I mean, Brennan is really lucky she's my friend or I would totally make a move on you.

Great, I really don't know how to respond to that where I come out looking like a good guy.

You are a good guy.

Thanks.

You gave me my best friend back.

Everybody needs a best friend.

Well, who's your best friend?

Uh, do you want me to say you?

No!

Wow, why'd you say it like that?

Because the word "friend" refers to a non-sexual, platonic relationship and I do not want that with you.

Me, either.

You are not my best friend.

Angela is my best friend.

You are a whole other dimension.

A non-platonic dimension.

Yes.

If I ever became your best friend, I would take that as a sign that we need to go out into the world and find other... I got it, I got it, I got it.

I get it, I get it, okay?

I'm never ever gonna be your best friend.

I hope not. Okay, I won't.

Well, you never said who your best friend is.

I know.

But not me.

No, not you.

You're a very romantic man. Aw.

No, I'm not your friend.

I'm like your... Not my friend. sexual puppy dog.
(laughs)

More like a lion!

What's that mean?

Dinner!

Ooh, I love International Taco Night.

VIRGINIA We have...

French fries, Greek yogurt, Canadian bacon, Chinese noodles, Italian sausage, American cheese, and from the country of Chile, chili.

Kind of just seems like we're eating all the food in the fridge that was about to go bad.

Yes, but in a taco shell.

This is like the buffet at the United Nations without all the grab-ass.

Hope, look, these noodles were made all the way in China by little girls the same age as you.

You know, in China they actually eat a completely different kind of noodle than we have here.

I don't want to sound r*cist, but I kind of think all Chinese noodles look alike.

Yeah. I'm just saying.

My family used to travel a lot when I was a kid.

China, Argentina, Australia...