All language subtitles for CSI.Crime.Scene.Investigation.S11E12.A.Kiss.Before.Frying.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb

Not so smart now!

Get up...!

Shut up!
Agnes...

Agnes!

What do we got?

Guy driving
by called it in.

Checked it out, found a
body at the bottom-- DOA.

Middle of nowhere.

Any idea how he got here?

No vehicle in the vicinity.
I've just been

keeping the buzzards off him
till you guys got here.

Don't you think you should
tape off the crime scene?

I'm on it.

Thank you, Officer.

We'll take it from here.

Hey, guys, I'm
sorry I'm late.

That's all right.

Why can't people die

closer to the road?

He's still smoking,
so he hasn't been here long.

The ground is soft,
loose gravel.

No footprints out here
but our own.

Body dump?

Possibly.

Looks like he might have
rolled down the hill

from up on the road.

Greg, a little help?
Yeah.

One, two, three.

Tongue's blackened,
swollen... teeth clenched.

Nearly bit his own tongue off.

Looks like somebody

took a flame thrower
to his head.

But his hands aren't burned.

His clothes
aren't burned either.

Except for a bit
of singeing on the collar.

Any guess on time of death?

Give me a second.

Whoa! Oh!He's alive!

Roll medical! Stat!

You guys stay here
and process the scene.

I'll ride back with the victim.

Push one mil adrenaline.
Let's go.

Well, my work is done here.

Call me if
his condition worsens.

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ I really wanna know ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪♪ Who... ♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you,
you, you ♪

♪ Are you! ♪

I'll get it
to him now.
All right.

So he didn't find any
I.D. on the victim.

What do you
got down there?

Uh, burned brush
and crushed vegetation

and bloodstains running
down the hill from the road

to where he came to a stop.

The guy's on fire, he rolls,

the dust and vegetation
put him out.

Good thing he didn't start
the whole hillside on fire.

Yeah.

These tire tracks go
onto the shoulder,

and then back onto the road
again without even stopping.

Think he was tossed
from a moving vehicle?

Maybe.
But the vehicle was a dualie.

You can see here, four wheels
on the back axle. You see that?

Mm-hmm. Could have
been a hate crime,

a narco hit...

Could have been
anything.

Hopefully, this poor guy
survives.

He can tell us himself
what happened out here.

Pardon me.

I want to sample
that, please.

As you can see,

our victim has
third-degree burns

covering approximately 90%

of his head and face.

In addition, there are
ligature marks

at the wrists
and the ankles.

He was tied up?Correct.

And now here,
the abrasions across the chest

would indicate
that he was restrained

with some kind of strap.

Don't see that every day.Nor this:

a distinct burn pattern
at the right ankle.

It's within
the ligature mark.

And not only that,

there's an even
more intense

circular burn at the
crown of his head.

Burn trauma radiating outward.

So, Doctor, what turned him
into a Roman candle?

Well, I have a theory.

The distinctive burn pattern,

the five-point restraint-- all
classic signs that this was

execution... by electric chair.

So, you're saying
somebody juiced this poor

son of a bitch and just left him
on the side of the road?

It's a theory.

Oh, man, that
ain't right.

Okay, next up, we have
the layout room.

Group, I'd like you to meet
Dr. Raymond Langston,

Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders.

These are our CSI field agents.

They go out and collect all
those little bits of evidence,

and then they bring them to me
for answers.

Ooh! Looks like they're cooking
up a searing mystery today.

Are these pictures
of a murder victim?

Attempted.

I hear he's hanging
by a thread.

You mean to say
that is still alive?

Mmm.

You know, Greg here

is our lead man on the case.

So if you have any questions,
you can direct them to him.

Are you Mr. Lodges' boss?

Hodges.

Uh, not exactly.

That's so horrible.
Is he gonna live?

I'm sorry, but this is
an ongoing case.

I can't really discuss
any of the details.

Sorry.

I understand.

What brings you here?I teach

fourth-grade science
and wanted to see

if this is appropriate
for a field trip,

but I'm afraid
it's a little too gory.

Oh, honey, this is nothing.

I could tell you stories

that would just
curl your hair.

The tour can
definitely be

cleaned up
for more innocent eyes.

If it wouldn't be
too much trouble, do you mind

taking these things
down to the lab

and running them
for trace, please?

Oh, don't worry.

I'll take over
the tour for you.

You go right ahead
and carry on, Mr. Lodges.

Alas, ladies and gentlemen,
duty calls.

I bid you adieu.

And now,
ladies and gentlemen,

if you'll follow me--

this way to reception.

Uh, I can introduce
you to Judy,

who will then explain to you
the intricacies of dispatch.

You really shouldn't

let her leave
without getting her number.

She didn't come here
to get hit on.

Dude, it's a pop fly
hit right to you.

All you gotta do is put
your glove up and catch it.

Ah...

: Ah...
Trust me. Go. Go now.

Hi. Um, I'm not trying
to be pushy or anything,

but I was just thinking

if you really want
to know more about the lab,

maybe you could
give me your number

and we could go out sometime
and talk about it.

Normally, I wouldn't,

but who could be
safer than a cop?

Plus you seem really nice.

Why not?

All right.

All right, thanks.

Okay.
I'll call you.

Bye.
Bye.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

What did Jell-O Man
ever do to you?

Eh, some men were just
born to suffer.

Since there's been no
call from the governor...

See, in
an electrocution,

current enters the head
through the skullcap

and is drawn through the body

by the grounding wire,
which is attached to the ankle.

Amperage flows through
the heart long enough

to ensure that it arrests.

So we have...
18.5 milliamps.

That's more than enough juice
to stop a man's heart.

But not enough
to light him up and cause

the burns that we saw
on the vic's head.

So either my theory's wrong
or we missed a variable.

Try missing a variable.

I analyzed the black flecks
you pulled

from Almost Dead Guy's head.

The material came
from a polyethylene sponge--

synthetic, like this one.

That explains it.

A saline-solution-soaked

sponge is used
to conduct electricity.

But... the sponge
has to be natural.

Otherwise...

it impedes the charge.

Using a synthetic sponge
increases resistance...

...converting most of the electrical current to heat,

literally cooking the victim
in low amperage.

There's not enough
to stop his heart.

But definitely enough
to set his head on fire.

You ever been to
Burning Man?

I have now.

So our killer is using
an electric chair.

Which is easy enough
to construct.

Yeah, you just
proved that.

It's got to take a ton
of juice to fry someone.

Maybe we can check
with LV Power and Water,

see if there were
any surges on the grid.

Well, unfortunately,
it's not about voltage,

it's about amperage.

If your connection
was strong enough,

you could plug this thing
straight into the wall.

So you're saying
that chair could be in

any house in the city?

Or truck.

The evidence at the
crime scene says

that the victim's head
was on fire

when he was thrown
from a moving vehicle.

Which means he had
just been fried.
Right.

So, a mobile
killing machine?

Right.

Catherine...

Got a match.

Tire tracks
were made by

LT245/75R16 Michelin
light truck tire.

Too bad it's only the most
common light truck tire

in the Southwest.

Well, truck
had two axles.

Two tires in the front,
four in the back.

Could be we're looking

for a pickup or a cube van.

All right.
Also...

got an I.D. on
our John Doe.

Carlton Doreen.

His, uh, wife reported him
missing two days ago.

We matched his DNA
to exemplars from his home.

And who is he?

Uh, regular guy.

Uh, works at a
hardware store.

Uh, no record,

no known enemies,
no outstanding debts.

You look tired, Greg.
You should go home.

Yeah, you're right.

I'm burnt.

Sorry. Unfortunate
choice of words.

Go home.

Did you call
her yet?

You don't want me
to call her, do you?

Don't let that
number go cold, now.

You don't waste
much time, do you?

Did I call too soon?

I hadn't even gotten home yet.

But I'm glad you did.

I was surprised
you were available.

I've pretty much given up
on the dating scene.

It's too painful.

I feel wicked.

I never drink on
a school night.

Actually, I hardly
ever drink at all.

Good thing I took the bus.

What, you don't have a car?

Mm-mm.

Schoolteacher's salary.

I figure if it's good
enough for my students,

it's good enough for me.

Your students must love you.

Well, I don't know about that.

But I bet they'd get a kick

out of a visit
from a real scientist.

I'd be honored.

To your students.

Another toast.

All right.

To us.

To us.

Oops. Oopsy.

I think they're going
to kick us out soon.

We're the last ones here.

All right,
we should probably go.

It's getting cold out.

Mm-hmm.

I'm not letting you
ride the bus.

Let's share a cab.

Okay.

I don't want this night to end.

Doesn't have to.

She's amazing.

Smart... and grounded,
and-- get this--

the rarest of
all things,

she's a beautiful woman

who has no idea how
beautiful she is.

Yeah!

I wouldn't steer
you wrong, bud.

Oh, get this.

She smells like
fresh peaches.

Peaches?

Yeah, you know,
like peaches.

Like, what a peach
smells like.

Yeah, nice.
So you didn't, uh...

No, you know what?

Don't tell me.
I don't want to know.

Dualies.

Man, I don't like
the look of that.

Well, you're not going to like
the look of this, either.

Moderate burns
on the crown,

but no collateral burns to
the head like the last victim.

Clenched teeth,

swollen tongue.

Same ligature marks
as Carlton Doreen.

You mind
if I lift his shirt, Doc?

Be my guest.

Five-point restraints.

Same burn within
the ligature mark.

Looks like somebody else
got the chair.

Storage facility over there.

Maybe we can pull
surveillance.

Yeah, all right.

Now, wait a minute, now.

You sure you
want to do that?

Hmph!

This one is actually dead.

So we've got two victims,
both fried

in some kind of
mobile electric chair.

Right.

But our first guy,
Carlton Doreen, didn't die.

We I.D.'d our second victim.

Elijah Newbloom III.

Any connection to Doreen?

Not really.

Both are about the same age.

Both from Vegas money.

But Doreen's family
lost its fortune.

Now he's a working stiff.

Newbloom, on the other hand,
is a trust-fund kid

who's never had to work
a day in his life.

Sounds like they don't
travel in the same circle.

I doubt it.

But they do intersect

at the corner of Doreen Avenue
and Newbloom Boulevard.

Really?

So maybe somebody's

picking out victims
by street names.

Well, if your intent
is just to kill,

it's not a bad way
to randomize your targets.

Found something interesting.

Both the victims'
skin and clothing

showed trace amounts
for ammonium perchlorate.

But exemplars from the soil
at both crime scenes

were negative for the chemical.

Perchlorate?

That's the
industrial oxidizer

that contaminated
a large section

of ground soil in Henderson

after the Phosphodyne
explosion in '88.

Ground's still
contaminated there.

Maybe that's where
our electrocutioner is set up.

I'll have Brass run
some unis through the area.

Hey.

I think I found our truck.

Elijah Newbloom's T.O.D. was
between midnight and 3:00 a.m.

The storage facility
across from the body dump

has surveillance cameras.

So I caught this truck
on the move at 2:30 a.m.

It was the only vehicle
on the road at the time.

Truck belongs
to one Johannes DeSmoot.

Guy owns an appliance
repair shop in North Vegas.

Excuse me.

Hello.ELLEN: Hi, Greg.

We still on for tonight?

Oh, you know...

I'm sorry,
but I-I don't think so.

We're making some headway
on the case,

and, uh, I think it's going
to be a late night.

Oh, don't worry,
I completely understand.

Hey, that's great
about the headway.

Yeah.

Do you think I could get
a rain check for tonight?

Rain, sun, sleet or hail.

Just call me when you can.

But don't wait too long, okay?

I won't.

Problem, "Lodges"?

Don't let us interrupt
your personal life.

So, uh...

you run a background on DeSmoot?

Yep. He used to work
as an interrogator

for the South African
secret police,

before he fled the country
at the end of apartheid.

Probably no stranger
to throwing a guy in a chair

and sending a few volts
through him.

Where's your truck, Johannes?

I told you, I sold it, and
I can't find the paperwork.

And you can't
remember a description

of the buyer, either.
Try a little harder.

Uh, it was raining, man.
And dark.

The guy was wearing a fedora.

His face, it was in the shadows.

He was a right tall
regular giant.

Ooh, spooky.

And in a hurry. He paid cash.

I had my stooky, hot to trot,

out in the back room,
so I signed over the deed

and he chucked out quick
without so much as a thank you.

You remember all that, why
can't you remember his handle?

I'm telling you, I can't,
and that's the truth.

You know, the truck is still
registered in your name.

Hey, if the oak never
switched over the deed,

it wouldn't be my swakkie,
now, would it?

What?

If I was lying,
don't you think

I'd be doff not to make up
a name and a description?

If not, you're dumber
than you look,

and that'd take some doing,
now, wouldn't it?

You know, it's bad form
to insult the guy

who holds your future
in his hands.

Your work permit
expired six months ago.

That means I
can hold you.

I'm going to find
your truck, Johnny,

and when I do, I'm
going to put you

in a box marked
"perishable"

and ship you back
to South Africa.

Then I'm going to
e-mail all the guys

you put a cattle
prod into,

tell them you're
coming home,

and maybe they'll have
a clambake for you.

Knock, knock.

You have a visitor.

Thank you, Lodges.

I brought sandwiches.

I didn't want you to think
I'm the kind of girl

that falls into bed
on the first date.

Oh, I don't.

I know this is all
happening really fast,

but I can't get you
out of my mind.

Well, I feel the same way.

I'm glad.

Hey, how's that
poor burn victim

in the hospital doing?

He's actually making progress.

We're hoping that he'll help us
identify our killer.

That's great.

I'll pray for him.

Uh...

Tox panels came back
on your victims.

Excuse me.

Uh, Carlton Doreen
and Elijah Newbloom

both had chloroform
in their system.

They were knocked out,
probably how they were abducted.

She is cute.

Thanks.

No, I mean, like,
really cute. You dawg!

Does anything remain
private around here?

No. Look, if she has a sister,
you think you can...?

I'll take the report.

Oh, sure.

All right, thanks.

What are you doing
at my desk?

Leaning.

Ooh, suspicious.

You want to lock me up?

That material is confidential.

I'm sorry, Greg.
I wasn't looking at it.

Ooh, I have to go.

I have to get up early,
and you have work to do.

I'll stay out of your stuff
from now on, I promise.

♪ ♪

You think I don't know
what the hell's going on?

Sorry.

Excuse me.

How about a drink?

You got a name for the guy
holding court over there?

Maybe.

What's it worth to you?

Never seen him
before in my life.

Ladies and gentlemen,

the moment
you've all been waiting for,

it is our extreme pleasure
to bring you

the greatest burlesque dancer

the world has ever seen--
Rita Von Squeeze!

Beautiful!

♪ ♪

Look, I get it. She's gorgeous.

But you got to cut
your losses on this one, man.

Get out of there.
She's trouble.

She told you she was a teacher,
and she's a stripper.

She is a teacher.

And the term is
"burlesque dancer."

:
Oh.

What's the difference?

I called her.

Now, why'd you go and do
something like that?

I wanted an
explanation.

She told that she was just
doing it for the extra money.

She couldn't make it on a
schoolteacher's salary alone,

and she didn't tell me

because she didn't
want to scare me away.

She lied to you, Greg.

And if she lied to you once,
she'll lie to you again.

Now, who is this-this
Reddenbacher dude?

It's Hammerbacher.
Roderick Hammerbacher.

Yeah, yeah.
Who is he again?

He's her manager,
and he's bad news.

What kind of bad news?

Well, I pulled
his sheet.

He's got a long history of
psychiatric incarceration.

Great.

This just keeps
getting better and better.

Huh. I'm worried
about her, Nick.

She might be
in danger.

Well, you better make sure

you know who
you're dealing with, man.

I'm telling you.

All right, I'll catch
up to you in a minute.

Yeah, yeah.

I see dualies.

Is it another electrocution?

It's official.

We have a serial killer.

John Adams
Elementary School, please.

North Las Vegas.

Connecting.

Thank you.

Adams Elementary School.

Yes. May I please speak
to Ellen Whitebridge?

One moment.

Calvarium burn
has a much narrower diameter.

And no collateral
burns around the head.

It's a cleaner kill.

These ligature marks are
less distinct, as well.

Means he struggled
for less time.

She's in class right now.

If it's urgent, I can get her.

Oh, no, no,
that won't be necessary,

but could you please
ask her to call Greg Sanders

when she has a moment?

Certainly.

Uh, she has my number,

but, uh, I'll leave it again,
just in case.

They used some kind
of conducting gel, as well.

So our killer seems to be
improving his technique.

Which means our electrocutioner
is not just a sadist.

He wants to get it right.
He's a perfectionist.

So,

another sparker, huh?PHILLIPS:
Yup.

And no I.D.
on this one, either.

And again, no attempt
to hide the body.

They seem to be just
left out here deliberately,

like little presents.Yeah?

I had a cat once that used
to do that with sparrows.

Sanders.

Yeah.

I see.

All right, thanks for calling.

Was that her?

No.

It was the hospital.

Our first victim,
Carlton Doreen, just died.

Infection in
the exposed tissue,

fluid builds up in the lungs.

It happens to burn victims

all the time.There goes
our best witness.

And our best suspect.

DeSmoot was in custody when
this poor guy bought it, so,

that lets him off the hook.

Our third victim's
name is Hammish Hershkowitz.

Hershkowitz?

You know him?

He was a professor
at WLVU.

Listed in the system
as a foster parent.

So much for your theory
about pulling names off a map.

There's no streets in Vegas
named Hershkowitz.

But you can't tell me that our
three victims aren't related.

The Rat!
The what?

Herzog Hershkowitz.

The Rat!

Our victims are connected,

but the story begins long
before any of them were born.

At the end of World War II,

Bugsy Siegel plucked

the great French chanteuse,
Agnes LaPlouffe,

from the ruins of Europe
and brought her to Vegas

to make her a star.

During the war,

Agnes had lost her life's
true love-- or so she thought--

the great Ballet Russe dancer,

Boris Kuchko,
in the siege of Leningrad.

But Kuchko survived,

and made his way barefoot
across Siberia,

and secretly reunited
with Agnes

in Vegas in 1946,

when they had a
daughter out of wedlock.

I remember this story.
It was Las Vegas legend.

My father's idea of

a soothing bedtime tale
for a little girl.

Agnes and Kuchko had to hide their love from Bugsy,

who considered Agnes
his property.

She spent furtive weekends

with Kuchko holed up in an anonymous motel in Santa Fe,

plotting her escape
from Bugsy's clutches.

As his suspicions grew,

Bugsy had his henchmen follow Agnes and Kuchko to New Mexico.

No!

Agnes!

Agnes! Agnes!

Agnes!

Agnes...!

They dragged her out
and they decapitated her,

leaving her body

in this hideous dance pose
to implicate Kuchko.

Where we going
with all this, Greg?

Bugsy framed Kuchko
for Agnes's murder,

relying on the bogus
eyewitness account

of a stoolie and small-time
operator for the Mob--

Herzog "The Rat" Hershkowitz.

Grandfather

of our third victim--
Hammish Hershkowitz?

Right.

Ambrose Doreen

and Elijah Newbloom the First--

the prosecutor
and defense attorney--

were both in Bugsy's pocket,

paid to throw the case.

There's our connection.

Doreen and Newbloom are
the grandfathers

of our first and second victim.

Bugsy made them both rich men.

And they became
pillars of Vegas society,

with streets and parks
named after them.

Now, everybody knew Kuchko
was innocent of Agnes' murder,

but the fix was in.

Tabloids had a field day

and a jury in New Mexico
demanded Boris Kuchko's life.

He went to the chair
proclaiming his innocence

to the end.LANGSTON:
Ironic,

to say the least.

Two survivors of the Nazi
and Stalinist killing machines

come to the land of the free

only to die
because they ran afoul

of a psychotic Jewish mobster.

Well, this is one
hell of a story,

but what are we
really saying here--

that there's
a psychopath

out there
with a mobile electric chair

who's killing the descendants

of the men who killed
some French singer

and her Russian boyfriend?

I buy it.

Someone's avenging history.Why not?

This is very strange.Well,

it's about to get
a whole lot stranger.

You gotta be kidding me.

What?

Well, that's Greg's girlfriend.

Actually,

that is Agnes LaPlouffe.

This is Ellen.

They could be twins.

Born 70 years apart.

Ellen is Agnes's granddaughter.

Rita Von Squeeze.

Aka Ellen Whitebridge?

Greg...

your girlfriend
is not looking so good.I know.

But I also know that she's not
capable of killing three men.

She wouldn't do it.

You don't know that.

And what about her
manager/boyfriend

Hammerbacher?

I hate to say it, Greg,

but it looks like you're
in over your head here.

That's what I keep trying
to tell him.

Have you had
any conversations

with her
about this investigation?

No.
No?

I mean... I don't know, maybe.

Maybe?

Excuse me.

Sanders.

It's Ellen.

I'm in trouble.

Greg, I need to see you.

I need to explain.

Explain what?

Please, I'm scared.

I think someone's trying
to kill me.

Who?

Give me a name.

There's a diner on the northwest
corner of Grant and St. Marie.

I know the place.

Meet me there.

You're the only one I trust.

Peaches.

Sanders.

Uh, yes, Mr. Sanders?

I believe you
left a message for me earlier.

Who is this?

This is Ellen Whitebridge
from Adams Elementary.

Is there something
I can help you with?

I think there's been
some kind of mistake.

Sorry to bother you.

Vartann called from a diner--
attempted hit-and-run.

Shots were fired,
nobody was hit,

but one of the
patrons described

the target
fleeing the scene

as a slender white
male, 30s, sandy hair.

Says he tore off
in a black SUV.

That sounds a lot like Greg.Yeah, I've been trying

to get him on the horn.
Have you talked to him?

I tried,
but he's not picking up.

What was he doing in a diner
where shots were fired?

And why hasn't he
checked in with us?

This woman's got him
really twisted up.

Found trace
on our third victim--

not just perchlorate,
as we found on the first two,

but also magnesium oxide.

That's used
in the manufacture

of paint.
I just checked.

The Dunley Paint Company
is within the radius

of perchlorate
contamination.

Factory's been
shuttered ever since.

Okay, Ray,
check it out with Nick.

I'll have Brass
send backup.

Right.

8:10 to Los Angeles now
boarding at terminal seven.

This is King 3-2;
we have shots fired!

I repeat:
we have shots fired!

Hammerbacher, open up!

There's no way out!

No! She's coming

and we're going to blow
out of here together!

Who's coming out?

Who?
Ellen!

She said that if I did
everything she told me,

that we were going
to disappear together.

We were going to find
an island somewhere.

Hammerbacher,

she's not coming;
she's gone.

You're surrounded,

so give yourself up.

That's a generator.Deploy.

Flash shots!

Hold your fire.

Hammerbacher, look,
you don't have to...

I'll see you in the next life!

Ellen?

Oh, Greg.

Thank God you're okay.

When I heard the gunshots,
I panicked and I ran.

I thought you
were dead.

I had to get out of town;
I knew I'd be next.

You used me.

No, you've got
it all wrong.

It was all
Hammerbacher's idea.

We fell for
each other hard,

but then I realized
he was a monster.

Yeah, then why didn't
you leave him?

I did; that's
what set him off.

He was in love with me,
like, crazy in love.

Crazy's right.

You met the man.

He thought he
could win me back

by avenging my
family's honor.

You set me up
to die tonight.

No, I swear, I had no
idea he was gonna--

You were playing me
from the start.

You came to my lab,

you looked
through my files.

You saw that we had
a picture of the truck,

so you went
and you switched trucks.

Hammerbacher made me do it.

I don't think you know
where the truth ends

and your own lies begin.

We got the truck.

And we both know your prints
are going to be all over it.

My grandparents didn't
deserve to die that way.

The slate's been
wiped clean now.

You can understand that,
can't you, Greg, baby?

Now departing
for Los Angeles-- last call.

Come with me.

I'll make you happier
than you ever dreamed.

We'll leave this
place of death behind

and find an
island somewhere.

I'll do anything
you say.

Anything.

Greg, please, no.

Take her in.

Let's go.

For what it's worth...

...I've loved you
since Tuesday.

You did good.

Yeah, well, most bosses
wouldn't have given me

the chance to
make it right.

Oh, make no mistake,
I'm pissed off at you, Greg.

You disappeared on us,
you walked into an ambush,

you almost got
yourself killed,

and then you left
the scene of a crime.

Am I on suspension?

You should be.

But I'm the last one
who should be throwing stones.

I've been blinded
by lust once or twice.

Just do me a favor.

The next time you get the hots
for a mysterious babe,

let me check her out
for you.

I got an eye
for the rotten ones.

Deal.

Catherine...

Yeah?Why do the rotten
ones smell so good?