All language subtitles for CSI.New.York.S07E19.720p.HDTV.x264

Order up for Hawkes.

Uh, Hawkes?

Yeah, that's me.

- There you go.
- Thanks, 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 got to be kidding me.

- It's so good.
- Excuse me.

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.

This is really good.

See? Got to experience
new things.

Well, who knew?

I'm really happy
you played hooky

today with me, Sheldon.

You were always
a bad influence, Camille.

- Really? - I like that.
- But I like that.

Hmm, fascinating.

Mmm. Lardon.

Lardon.

They do a BLT

with blue cheese

and cherry tomatoes...
it will blow your mind.

Sync y n17t01
www.addic7ed.com

Camille, Camille.

Are you okay?

- Get you to sit up.

- Yeah, I'm okay.
- Are you sure?

- I'm fine.
- Okay.

Oh, my God.

There's some people
over there that need our help.

Let's go.

You get her, I got...

Come on, come on,
we got to get out of here.

You're going to be okay, sir...

You all right?

You're okay;
Now, 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.

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, um...

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 propanetank would have been.

Built in bomb.

All you need's
an ignition source.

Well, 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 going to 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.

Whoa. 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.

Get a positive I.D.

And how you doing, Doc?

If it's any consolation,

I would have taken the day off
for her, too.

Got some leftovers?

Maybe.

Order of contents
are usually written

on the outside of a
take-out box, right?

Yeah, usually.

Then tell me this.

Why write on the inside?

- 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.

Yeah, 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.

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.

Nine o'clock?

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. Bye.

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.

Here, check it out.

Looks like

it could be hardened gel

or fluid, maybe glue.

Yeah, so I'm thinking
maybe our perp used glue

to attach the bomb to the under side of the propane tank.

Then lit the fuse...

Yeah, and then boom.

It's going to 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 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.

Hey.

I know, he's such a great guy.

Good night.

Hey, 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-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 have
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?

I 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...

Oh, baby, I got to go.

No, come on, please.

Bye.

Adam, you get anywhere
with that shirt fragment?

I got 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.

I 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

that 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, I... oh.

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,

1,200 of them were
for gourmet trucks.

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.

D.O.T., 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.
Gonzales.

No, the best.

All beef, natural casing.

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 stole half my
business over the past year.

Illegally.

Well, we understand
you're angry

based on all the
complaints you filed.

I passed 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. Gonzales.

He's dead.

- ¿Está muerto?
- 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. Gonzales.
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.

And after talking to him,

even that's questionable.

Hey.

If it ain't Dr. Love.

Anybody ask for me?

Don't worry, I covered for you.

I told 'em 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. Hawkes?
- 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.

Holly.

Leberspatzle!

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 Leberspatzle

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.

I-it's a critical tool
for making Leberspatzle.

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.

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 want to 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.

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 have 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.

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, 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
going to stand by

and let you waste all
my hard work on some

- freaking roach coach?
- Hey, hey, 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, Mr. Langley.

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.

Yeah, 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.

Enjoy.

See you around.

Next!

What can I get you?

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.

No, 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.

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
going to play by his rules,

Gus Stilton could
have 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.

All right, well, 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 bondingceramic 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.

Hey!

He's the guy that bumped into me
at the festival.

Odelin Gonzales...

Junior.

You sure made a mess of things.

I 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?

Work harder.

That's what I thought.
I even told him so.

Order number five.

Who's next, who's next?

That's two fries
coming up at $7.50.

Here's your change...
thank you, thank you.

Don't let 'em get to you, Papi.

The food isn't even that good.

Tell that to all the people
standing in line.

I've made 18 bucks
today, O.G.

Forget about feeding
the homeless.

I won't be able to feed myself
if this keeps up.

Ah, no se preocupe, eh?

Hey, uh, you, you...

Todo estara bien.

You're right.

Everything will be okay.

I got two fries coming up
right now for you guys...

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.

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.

What you got?

- Yeah.
- All right, bros. I know where this is.

Let's go have some fun.

Yeah, 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 'em 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.

En nombre de Dios, O.G.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.

They're 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 got to 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.

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 got to get
some rest, okay?

Oh, okay.

Okay.

But, um...

you sure about that?

Sync by n17t01
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