I must confess that before hitting “play” on this episode, the following conversation took place:
Me: I’m a little worried there won’t be any subtext in this episode.
K: That’s like … an impossibility.
So, we begin with a murder. Just your average, middle-of-the-night, icepick-in-the-brain homicide. La de da. Not to worry, though, because Rizzoli is on the case the very next morn, only she can’t touch the car because they’re still waiting on a warrant because all the judges in Boston are still passed out drunk from last week’s Rizzoli & Isles Drinking Game. So, there’s a traffic jam and there are angry people honking their horns because everyone knows that the sound emitted from a horn while in direct combination with yelling and cursing instantly opens a portal into a magical land where All Your Wishes Come True.
Rizzoli: Hey, man, shut up!
Grumpy Rizzoli is grumpy. There’s a crime scene, a dead guy, and no Maura.
Rizzoli: Where’s Maura?
Frost: Stuck in traffic.
Rizzoli: She shouldn’t wear high heels to a crime scene.
Someone please explain to me what high heels have to do with getting stuck in traffic. Is there a correlation? Is this the secret to not getting stuck in traffic? Who else knows about this?
Maybe “high heels” is just the secret phrase that makes Maura Isles appear…
Hmm…let’s try it! Damn. That didn’t work.
Anyhoo, Maura shows up looking perfectly perfect with her aura of perfection and the two of them set about doing some hardcore investigative work, which looks exactly like this:
I say the bad guy did it … in the car … with an icepick. Case solved! How about you two go out now for some coffee … food … kisses and gay love?
No? Okay. Worth a try.
So, “Big ‘Mo” shows up. You know, Big Mo. He tows cars. Rizzoli jumps down his throat because he took forever to get there which probably means he got stuck in traffic which means he must be wearing heels. That explains why he’s called Big Mo. Everything makes sense to me now.
Big Mo: You can be as bitchy as you like.
Rizzoli: Yeah? What’s the male equivalent of bitchy, huh? Dickey?
So, the car gets towed back to the precinct and Maura discovers that the dead guy has no fingerprints. They also find a box full of IDs and a notepad full of drawings, which leads them to the instant conclusion that: a) The guy was an identity thief, b) an artist, and c) a genius. Blah blah plot blah.
Over at Maura’s lab, Maura examines the body. It’s been at least five minutes since they last saw each other, which means Rizzoli is probably — oh, yep, there she is. Supersonic DNA results have come in, but there seems to be a problem. The victim’s DNA is almost an exact duplicate of Maura’s. Cross-contamination? Did Maura Isles screw something up? Jane thinks so. Actually, she just wants an excuse to touch Maura.
Rizzoli: Maura, everybody makes mistakes.
No, Jane. Maura Isles is perfect in every way, which can only mean one thing: the victim is none other than … (drumroll) … MAURA ISLES’ HALF-BROTHER.