All language subtitles for Bones S09E10 The Mystery in the Meat

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!

It's people!

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.

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.

Right, good answer.

Mmm.

Booth.

They found the body in what?

Is everything all right, Booth?

I lost my appetite.

Why?
Hold that.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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 killed

prior to being fed
into the meat processor.

Canned murder? 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

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

♪

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?

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.

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 killed, 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 murder and the mulching

both happened at the same place.

Got a hit here.

Squints I.D.'d the victim.

Howard Compton, 41.

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 murderer

who turned a school full
of children into cannibals.

Well, yeah,
that's important, too.

Yeah.

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 cracker cereals?

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.

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, murdered.

I see.

That's upsetting.

Did he die at Kettle Top Stew?

Well, how did you know?
I didn't murder Howard,

if that's what you're thinking.

I'm a bromatologist
with acute hyperosmia.

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 murdered?

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.

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 murder.
- 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.

Amazing.

She remind you of
anyone you might know?

No.

But I find her

quite unique
and delightful.

Hey, Daisy.

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 killer 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 kill 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?

Schools are considered
second-tier markets,

along with prisons,
senior citizens' homes...

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.

Kill 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 kill him.
I liked Howard.

Whoa, whoa.
That's not true.

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
kill him.

Where were you five days ago?
Five days ago?

That's when he was killed?

You want to check
your day planner?

Maybe it says
"kill 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.
- 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 murdered.

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.

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 murdered.

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.

Compton's computer, here,

has the formulas
for the new food products

he was working on
when he died.

Considering some of these snack
foods are worth billions,

I bet some of those formulas were
worth killing 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.

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
killing for.

Oh, God.

I really need
a drink.

Porn? I'm not in porn.
Sexual toys are not porn.

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

Okay, sir,
you need to relax

Marital aids. Porn!

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 kill 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 kill 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.

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

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

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

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?

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.

Oh, God.

That one back there is
definitely a fugitive.

Five shots
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 attack,

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 stab
a guy's tire...

...a few weeks later,

you stab 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 burned in my brain

Whoo!

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

Yeah!

♪ Burned in my brain

♪ Burned in my brain

♪ Burned in my brain

♪ Burned in my bed

Drink! Drink! Drink!
Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!

Here, here we go!

♪ 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.

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...

I volunteer to take her place.

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

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

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.

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.

Oh!

Go! Run!

Wow. You know how bikers
always stick together?

Yeah.

I think it applies
to the girlfriends, too.

Catfight!

Here we go!
Get over here!

Oh!

Ooh, yeah!

Oh!

Take that!

Oh! Take her off!

Get 'em!

Punch her out!

Yep.

Although, I did not
start the fight,

I felt obligated
to finish it.

You would have been
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.

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.

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 shot
off of a stranger's body?

Uh, I don't know. Body shots?

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.

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!

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 knife.

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 knife.

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.

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 killed
for their cause.

I didn't kill anyone.

You were carrying
a weapon, 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 kill Howard.

He and I were on the same team.

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 killed him?

I guess the question is,
did you use this to kill 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 kill Howard.

It would remove the last hope

of keeping the company alive.

This wasn't a rational murder.

You know what my guess is?

My guess is that you begged him

to keep the company alive,
he refused,

and you killed 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 murder 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 kill 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...

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 murderer would've
been drenched in blood.

This is excellent work.

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 killed.

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 killed him and you
tossed him in the horse meat.

I'm not going to confess
to killing 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 murdered
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.

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.

More like a lion!

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

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 racist,

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...