- Aaron, where's Joey? - Taking a leak.
- Buddy system. - Come on.
Which way did he go?
I don't know. Joey's got to whiz every 10 minutes...
Trauma to the forehead.
Eyes full of maggots, all you see is the boo-boo on the forehead.
Hands bound in front of him. Definitely not execution-style.
What's the shiny stuff on the nose?
Some kind of emollient. It's around his lips, too.
- Get anything out of the boy who found him? - Only vomit.
That would explain the pervasive smell. Why am I here?
Dead guy, foul play - it's your main function.
With bones. This is... very meaty.
No, there's a bit of bone here and... there.
- And look at all the maggots. - Bones, I said. Not bugs.
- Lividity looks fixed. - So it's not a body dump. He was killed here.
This is all flesh. Why'd you call me in on this?
- Wasn't me! - It was me.
Why? Because you're trying to find excuses to put Booth and me together on cases?
I wouldn't do that.
Cos we worked things out and we're fine. Right?
- Yeah. 100% . - That's... That's not why I called you in.
Then why?
- Feet are missing. - Because his feet are missing.
Which suggests bone trauma. Which immediately suggested you.
Oh, look at that. Blood.
Do you think that's from the wound on the forehead?
No. Too much.
Well, it looks like the blood trail stops here.
- You want the honour? - The honour is all yours.
I got a foot.
- Me, too. - Find a third one and I'll be impressed.
I estimate time of death at or around four days.
Hodgins looked at the maggots and agrees.
Trauma to the frontal bone would've been fatal.
- Tissue damage indicates a blade. - So does bone damage.
Dr Brennan, you aren't being competitive between flesh and bone, are you?
It's possible.
Absence of ecchymosis on the wrists indicates the hands were bound postmortem.
Consistent with the feet - no haemorrhagic tissue. They were removed postmortem.
- Was that competitive? - I hear a tone, but it could be my imagination.
Angela's going to be hypnotised.
Why?
To remember her husband's name.
So we can find him, divorce him, marry ourselves and live happily for all eternity.
- You won't live for eternity. - I thought you had a name.
- A name for what? - Angela's husband.
Berimbau. But our private investigator says it's a nickname.
- Well, you can't get much off a nickname. - Berimbau is "little flute" in Brazilian.
- What? - Little flute?
I'm suddenly filled with a sense of wellbeing.
The jury is out on the validity of recovered memories.
That's great. Speaking of names, I ran the vic's prints.
I got a hit. Ed Milner from Maryland.
The shiny substance on the victim's nose and mouth, it's sunscreen.
Per the manufacturer, it protects and maintains
the natural colour of coats, manes, and tails.
Coats, manes, and tails. Oh, my.
- Formulated for horses. - Any human applications?
Manufacturer recommends against use on human skin.
Guys? Contents of the victim's stomach are corn, raw oats and dried molasses.
- Horse food? - FYI, there's such a thing as too much fibre.
All right. I can draw inferences from multiple equine implications.
- What? - She's going with the horsy theme.
Incised wounds extending into the periosteum of the maxilla
between the molars and pre-molars.
- Ah. - What?
His teeth and jaw show evidence of a bit.
His name is Ed.
Why is that funny?
- As in "A horse is a horse..." - "Of course, of course."
The famous Mister Ed?
Mister Ed?
He was supposed to be on a corporate retreat in Orlando.
He's in marketing.
Are you able to identify your husband's body from that photograph?
Yes, that's Ed.
I don't understand. Who could've done that?
We found your husband's body just outside Harrisonburg, Virginia.
Virginia?
Did he mention any recent disagreements? Friends, co-workers, family members?
No. Ed was one of those guys.
When we married, we owned an apartment building.
If a tenant couldn't afford the rent, Ed cut 'em a break. That's how he was with everyone.
Do you have a ranch? Own a racehorse? A pony ride? Anything like that?
No. Why?
Did Ed ever go to the racetrack? Rodeos?
I'm not sure Ed even ever saw a real horse up close and in person. Why?
We don't have anything concrete right now. But when I do, I'll let you know.
Hey.
- "Hay" is for horses. - Hey, that's funny, Bones.
I found it on this website about horses.
Where do horses stay in a hotel?
- "Bridle" suite. - That's correct.
So, did you find out anything useful?
The hooves of champion thoroughbreds are buried separately from the corpses.
The hooves represent power and get their own resting spot.
Our victim's feet were separated from his body.
The victim's wife said he was at a corporate retreat
and his boss said he was with his family.
- He lied. - They could all be lying.
How did you know the bridal-suite joke?
I have a five-year-old son.
- Hey. Have you seen Brennan? - You just missed her.
Booth tracked the victim's last credit-card purchase to a country inn in Virginia.
Why? Do you need her?
No, I was sort of hoping she needed me.
Well, I admire your work ethic, but she didn't say anything to me.
What about you? You need anything?
I am weighing human organs. Not really your thing.
Right. OK.
Are you passing the time until you're hypnotised?
- Did Hodgins tell everybody? - Well, he's excited. We all are.
Delving into the subconscious to find the mystery husband's name? Very romantic.
It won't be so romantic when I divorce him.
Romantic for you and Hodgins when you finally marry.
- You nervous? - No. No, I'm annoyed.
I know about hypnotism. I was a magician's assistant at a little gypsy carnival in Brazil.
- Now, that's an opening line. - Mysterio was really cute.
And I was younger then, and the whole being-sawed-in-half thing was kind of hot.
- We were talking about hypnotism. - Right.
This guy could rub an alligator's stomach so I could stick my head inside its mouth,
but every time he hypnotised people, it was always a scam.
Angela, therapeutic hypnosis is a proven technique.
Electroencephalography shows increased activity in the cerebral cortex,
which opens the subconscious.
- Really? - Yeah. It alters the alpha and the theta waves.
Read the Stanford study. It's not a party trick.
- You read that? - And I've been hypnotised myself.
Wow. Why?
Well, I was in Vegas.
I got called up on stage
and apparently I clucked like a chicken in front of 3,000 people.
But I have absolutely no memory of it.
- Was this episode in the Stanford study? - No. It should've been.
For the next three days, every time someone said "coffee", I'd cluck. Awkward.
OK. Why am I not feeling better about this?
Trust me, no crazier than you drinking kava and marrying a giant in Fiji.
And Hodgins seems pretty cool with that,
so if he wants you to try hypnosis, I'd say get drowsy.
I guess you're right. I've done crazier stuff than this.
- What can happen, right? - There you go.
Coffee?
Kidding. It's been two years.
You say you're with the FBI?
That is the third time he's shown you his ID.
- Why would I know this man? - You're part of his credit-card history.
- Sir, why are you being so difficult? - Not difficult. Discreet.
What do you do? Run a service for cheating husbands?
- Call in the SWAT team. They're not discreet. - OK. OK.
That's Mister Ed.
"A horse is a horse, of course, of course"?
That's the general idea, yes.
Come with me, please.
The Ambassadora is a place where people come to indulge in pony-play fantasy
24 hours a day without fear of judgment.
Mister Ed is a pony.
Is this some kind of a sex thing?
- How'd you get there? - He said "fantasy". I made the leap.
Ed took off a couple of days ago. Which was odd, since he pre-paid.
Pre-paid for what?
Oh. We're in the middle of what you might call our convention.
So unless this is really important, I'd rather not disturb our guests.
Well, two miles from here, in the woods, Mister Ed... was found dead.
Wow. What's going on here?
It's a fetish.
The idea is that one of them is the horse, the other is the rider?
- Basically. - This isn't about horses,
it's about a dominant versus submissive balance of power.
A variation on sadomasochism.
Those people are eating from troughs. Do you think that's sexy?
Fetishism is a way of indulging in sexual activity
without engaging emotionally with the other person as a fully formed human being.
Sex is all about engaging.
You don't want to engage, you stay home and... you know.
They have masturbation fetishes. Often involving women's shoes or...
Can we just talk to Mister Ed's mistress, dominatrix, whatever?
I'm gonna have to ask permission. We have three lawyers, half a dozen doctors...
Excuse me. We need to speak with Mister Ed's groom. Whoever rode him last.
Great way to cut to the chase.
All right. FBI. And, sir, could you turn your behind around so it's... behind?
My name in the world is Anne Marie Ostenbach. Here, I'm Annie Oakley.
Naturally.
So Mister Ed is dead?
- How well did you know him? - Obviously she knew him very well.
Sexual fetishes are about role-playing. She probably never knew his real name.
We met online over a year ago. We were a match - I mean, compatible in every way.
You have no idea how hard it is to find a perfect pony.
Don't look at me.
Mister Ed was easy to handle but not mindlessly obedient.
OK.
And yes, we had sex, if that's your next question.
When did you first meet in person so that you could, you know... ride him?
Six months ago. I fell in love with him.
Meaning what? A little light whipping?
When I say love, I don't mean romantically.
I mean the way a young girl feels about her first pony.
Have you ever heard of anything like one pony fighting another?
No. No, pony play is not like that.
Mister Ed was found only a few miles away.
Evidence on the body suggested an equine fetish.
So you see why we might think that someone from your sex-game community killed him.
- You should talk to his wife. - His wife?
Yes. She showed up here, and the next morning Ed was gone.
He didn’t just run off and join a band of wild mustangs, did he?
I'm speaking to you willingly, without a lawyer present.
You could at least pretend to show me some respect.
Yeah, I'll try.
The night Ed took off, I was in the stables with him.
I'd worked him hard that day and was rubbing him down.
- Which is when she caught us. - Did you know he was married?
I didn't wanna marry the man. I just wanted to play with the pony.
- How did he react when he saw his wife? - He never broke character.
- What? - He remained a pony.
I finished rubbing him down and I went to bed - alone.
The next morning he was gone. I assumed he went back to his wife.
OK. I'd appreciate if you kept the fact that Ed Milner was murdered to yourself.
What's worse? Finding out that your spouse is having an affair
or finding out that he has a secret life as a pony?
Pony fetishism has been around since the Greeks.
Had to be the wife, right?
Aristotle extolled the joys of being ridden like a horse.
Aristotle also thought the purpose of the heart was to solve math problems.
- I'm surprised you know that. - Turns out I'm "smarter than a fifth-grader".
In Victorian England, scantily clad women put on erotic shows dressed as ponies.
I'm just saying, wife sees some woman rubbing her husband down
while he's nibbling on oats, that's harsh.
In 16th-century Turkey, the king kept stables of pony girls and pony boys for his pleasure.
- King of Turkey was a freak. - Why are you being so judgmental?
When you turn someone into an object of sexual pleasure, it's wrong.
- How do you know? - It says in the Bible.
- It does not. - Then it got left out by mistake.
We are all hard-wired differently.
If someone needs to shout "giddy up" to heighten arousal, what's wrong with that?
Maybe if Ed lived like a man, he wouldn't have died like a horse. That's all.
You knew your husband wasn't in Florida.
Yes. I lied.
Why?
I was married to Ed for nine years. We have kids.
My first concern was to make sure they didn't find out their father was a pervert.
- So his fetish was a surprise to you? - Try "complete shock".
Why would Ed do that? We had a good sex life.
More likely, a part of him could never have been satisfied by love alone.
Bones, that's one of those... How did you track him down?
What?
Well, I mean, you didn’t just wander into his... his stable or paddock or whatever.
No. I really did think he was in Orlando on a business trip. I got a call.
- From whom? - A man.
He said Ed was with another woman and told me where I could find them.
He didn't mention the pony stuff.
- Did you recognise his voice? - No.
Anything distinctive at all?
An accent. Australian maybe? English?
So you walked in on Ed and his...
- Rider. ...rider?
Is that what they call it?
- What happened next? - I got out of there, drove home.
- Did you hear from him again? - No. I engaged a divorce attorney right away,
who said all communications should go through her.
Did anyone see you come home that night?
- Why is that important? - I think you know why, Mrs Milner.
Agent Booth, if I had killed my husband, I wouldn't need a divorce lawyer, would I?
No. But you would need an alibi.
- So you don't think she did it, hm? - No.
Wanna put that down? Why? Because of the lawyer-alibi thing?
No. Because of the feet-cut-off thing. It was ritualistic. The killer knew about horses.
Or maybe she started cutting him into little bits to scatter across the countryside
and it was too much work, or it made her sick, or he wouldn't fit in the trunk.
- We are immersed in a culture here. - Pony play is a culture?
Anthropologically speaking. Not just because of the feet. Ed's hands were tied together.
Historically, ranchers bound the front legs of horses to prevent them from straying.
Not to mention all the other equine attributes in this case.
Yes, this is a culture, and we need to investigate accordingly.
- Do you still think she did it? - No, not now.
We need to find the mystery caller. If he had a reason to contact Ed's wife,
he had a motive to murder him.
Right. So, back to the Ambassadora?
- Giddy up. - Yeah, um... don't say that.
Radiating fractures along the edges of the wound
suggest the tip of the blade was blunt.
I'm trying to determine the type of weapon.
Fill the negative space with Microsil to determine the shape of the blade's tip.
Yes.
You know this guy got his rocks off pretending to be a horse?
- Yes. - I've never tried that.
I pretended to be a horse as a child, but with no sexual component.
- What melon is in season? - Why?
Once I've ID'd a possible weapon, we'll want to compare an exemplar to the entry wound.
Cantaloupe.
OK, what is this? A sicko rodeo?
Stylised movements. Posturing as a kind of sexual signal.
- Who are these people? - In real life they tend to be very orthodox.
You heard what Lucky said. They're lawyers, judges, FBI guys...
- This is not normal, OK? It's... - It's what, Booth?
- You're not interested in? - Pony play? No.
But I'm the first to admit that, in sexual situations, I have indulged in role-playing.
- It's getting a little warm out here. Let's... - Hey, there. Any, uh... leads?
We're wondering if any of the riders or ponies has an accent.
Thor.
He grew up in England.
- With Annie Oakley? - Yeah.
I'm gonna need Thor's actual normal human name.
- Calvin Johnson. - That's great. Come on.
Thanks.
We all indulge in role-playing in sexual situations.
Not me. Completely normal here.
Booth, any time you look at a woman and judge her beautiful, you're objectifying her.
Any time I put on lipstick and nice clothes, I'm objectifying myself.
It's more subtle than what these people are doing, but otherwise it's the same dynamic.
You wearing lipstick, Bones, it's not like this.
Calvin Johnson?
Calvin? Johnson?
He's wearing a bit gag.
Could I help take that off?
- Not until I say so. - We either talk to him here
or we all go downtown and he misses a whole day of horsing around.
How do you release him from his pony persona? Is there a word, a motion?
Oh, just tap him on the forehead.
So, what's up, then?
Hardly even knew Ed.
- Then why'd you call his wife? - You can't prove that was me.
She recorded the call. We can do voice analysis.
If you lie, it'll be obstruction of justice.
And public display of sexual paraphernalia.
OK, then yes, I called her. So what?
- Why'd you call her, Calvin? - To swap recipes.
He did it to get Annie Oakley as his groom.
Ratting on a guy to his wife is hardly a federal crime, is it?
- How'd you get his home number? - It was under "home" on his phone.
- Ed Milner's an idiot. - Was an idiot.
Now he's a murder victim. What happened, Thor?
Ed's wife showed up, but to your chagrin left without him,
so you did what you had to do in order to get your groom back.
Annie's one hell of a jockey, but not worth killing for.
I did not kill Mister Ed.
I may enjoy being dominated by the ladies - that doesn't make me crazy.
Might wanna look in the mirror, my friend Flicka.
Whoa. Oh, no.
I went to Stanford Law. Clerked for a federal judge.
Might want to re-think your actions there, Agent Booth.
Thank you.
- Yeah, he's got motive. - He knows about horses.
What's with the lying? "We got voice tapes", "public display of sexual paraphernalia"?
It was role-playing. I was being all lard-ass and good cop.
Hard-ass and bad cop, Bones.
Hard-ass and bad cop.
What's going on?
You first.
Cantaloupes. Zack and I need 'em for an experiment.
Of course you do.
- I talked to Dr Jasper, that hypnotist. - Yeah?
She asked me to bring in photos. But all I could find are these.
- I'm not sure those'll be any help. - So I'm looking for the wedding photo.
You were married on the beach at dawn.
When I got off the phone with Dr Jasper I remembered
that somebody snapped a Polaroid of me right after I said "I do."
And I stuck it in a book as a bookmark. But I can't find it.
You know, I really hate going through this story of marrying a guy.
I didn't even know his name. People are looking at me like I'm nuts.
- You are. - Thanks a lot.
Come on, Angie, embrace the irony. It's what makes you you.
You married him, then you're gonna marry me. None of it makes sense.
I'm supposed to listen to a guy walking around with honeydew melons?
Cantaloupes. It's a common mistake. And, hey, you need to relax.
You want me there when you go under? I can hold your hand or something.
I'm not going under. I'm being hypnotised.
OK...
This is me walking away with my melons so you can relax.
Love you... psycho.
Ta-daa!
The weapon was blunt, an inch wide, and curved.
- That's unusual. - Not if you're a horse.
- I'm not a horse. - The victim was.
At least, he pretended to be one.
- What is that? - A hoof knife.
They're curved to conform with the shape of a horse's foot.
- Could I have one of those honeydews? - It's a cantaloupe.
Horses are slaughtered by a single blow to the forehead.
I'm thinking we should place the melons at exactly 5' 11", which was the victim's height.
We devise a plan to pull the cantaloupe away cos he most likely saw the knife coming...
OK, fine.
You know, we used to think things through together.
I apologise. It's possible that my time in Iraq transformed me into a man of action.
I'll watch out for that.
Looks like we found the right weapon.
Mister Ed wasn’t just playing like a horse and having sex like a horse.
He was slaughtered like one, too.
All right, the victim's hands were tied together like this with baler's twine.
- "Bales of hay" baler's twine? - Yup.
It's embedded with a filament that prolongs its life in sunlight.
It's patented and they sell directly to the consumer. They had only 228 sales last year.
Booth can identify the pony players and cross-reference.
I'm on it.
Hodgins?
Hodgins!
Is somebody there?
Hodgins?
- Why don't you just open your eyes? - Ah, sweetie. It'll break the spell.
What spell? Are you still hypnotised?
- No. It never took. - Why?
Because that doctor said that I wasn't relaxed enough.
Can you believe that? I mean, how would she know if I'm relaxed or not?
Well, you're twisting your bracelet, your voice is half an octave higher than usual
and you smell like nervous sweats.
Oh, don't say that. Really?
I'm going back there at six.
She says if my pulse is still above 60, she'll push me off till next week.
Rapid pulse rate, high blood pressure - they're indicators of emotional distress.
- You think I don't wanna be hypnotised? - I simply made a factual observation.
Ah. You think I'm afraid of disturbing old memories.
You think I like this idea of Berimbau as some sort of untouchable fantasy figure, hm?
That somehow finding his real name will just bring him down to earth
and make this whole meshugaas banal and uninteresting.
I don't know what "meshugaas" means.
I'm not sure I know what any of that meant.
Why do I feel like I need to apologise for something?
I'll be ready next time, OK? You'll see.
Could you excuse me, sweetie?
Hey, shut that door behind you.
You recognise that?
- Yeah. That'd be twine. - Uh-huh.
Fairly specialised stuff, hm? Doesn't deteriorate in the sun.
Only the best for your pony clients.
- Get it off one of my hay bales? - Got it off the corpse of Ed Milner.
Do I need a lawyer?
- That's your call. - I didn't kill Ed.
We traced that twine to the Ambassadora Ranch.
Any of my guests could've taken it off my hay bales.
Your company was co-owned by your ex-wife till recently?
- I paid her off in the divorce. - Your ex being Anne Marie Ostenbach?
Rider named Annie Oakley? Ed Milner's sex partner.
You see how things are starting to line up against you, Lucky.
- We aren't married any more. - You're gonna tell me it doesn't bother you
to see your ex-wife playing sex games with other men?
- What's that? - It's a warrant.
I told you that twine's all over the ranch.
- We'll look for a hoof knife. - I've got one.
- Great. - It was stolen four days ago from my truck.
- Did you report the theft? - Like the cops care about a $10 knife?
- Think I know who did it, though. - I'm listening.
I have a rider client named Tom Mularz.
He passed out flyers advocating the consumption of horse meat.
- He's a butcher. - Why did he break into your truck?
I took the flyers, tossed 'em in the truck, kicked him out.
So he took the flyers and the knife?
All I know is I came out the next morning, the flyers were gone, so was the knife.
That is the same morning that Ed Milner was missing.
Wow.
You just figured that out.
Oh, I found something very interesting.
The victim's feet were severed from the body with remarkable skill.
Excellent insight. But the polite response is, "Really, Hodgins? What did you find?"
There's a sharp-force disarticulation from the distal tibia and fibula
passing cleanly above the talus.
No, I wasn't asking you. I was telling you you should ask me.
Really, Hodgins? What did you find?
The feet were severed with a hoof knife.
- I know. - Because I told you.
No, because I examined the cuts under the laser-scanning microscope.
How did you find out?
Traces of steel left on the skull matched traces of steel left on the feet.
Same weapon.
Same weapon. Dude, you suck all the fun out of every moment of personal triumph!
I hate the smell of a butcher shop.
Maggots and rotting faces don't bother you, but the smell of a butcher shop does?
It's a very small step between selling dead meat and making meat dead.
I'm considering becoming a vegetarian.
- Not me. - That's why I said "I", not "we".
Zack said the killer was adept at cutting through bone.
Like a butcher.
Horse meat. "Sweet, rich, lean, and soft."
- Can I help you? - We're looking to score some horse meat.
The only two slaughterhouses in the US don't export to Virginia.
Oh, that's a shame. You Tom Mularz?
- Why? - I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. This...
Go around. Cut him off.
Stop, or I'll kick you in the testicles!
- Oh, you are strong! - Oh, you know, I try and stay in shape.
- "Stop or I'll kick you in the testicles"? - It worked.
I tell you what. You and me are gonna work on the cop talk.
- What'd you hit me with? - A building.
I've been thinking about the psychology of all this.
I know that you hate that, but just go with me here, OK?
Tom is a butcher. He advocates the consumption of horse meat.
Ed Milner was horse meat.
I can see that - symbolically.
- Who's Ed Milner? - Mister Ed? Ring a bell?
- He's dead? - Yeah.
Oh, man. He was a good pony.
OK.
Did you ride Mister Ed?
No. No, I'm a rider, but I prefer female horses. I just... I just admired his... his style.
- Why throw me into a wall? - Why run?
- Well, you're FBI. - Oh, I need a bit more than that.
I'm a deserter. They send the FBI after deserters.
A deserter from what?
The National Guard.
I signed up to save people from floods and earthquakes and stuff. But not to kill.
We found your prints on Lucky's truck.
I broke into it to get my flyers back.
- They're mine. - Your horse-meat flyers.
Why can't they see that if we revere horses sexually,
then eating the flesh is an act of holy communion?
You know what? There's crazy pony players and really whacked-out crazy pony players.
Yeah.
- What'd you do after you got your flyers? - I drove to my folks in Jersey.
- When did you get there? - Before midnight.
They can vouch for me. Plus, I got receipts from gas.
- You deserted the National Guard. - I'm not a killer.
- You're a butcher. - Not a people butcher! I'm innocent.
How am I doing? Because the pressure of having to have a low pulse
could be driving my pulse up, and I in no way want to be penalised for that.
58 beats per minute. Very nice, Angela.
I did some deep breathing.
You're not gonna make me cluck like a chicken, are you?
Sorry.
Bombs away.
Let's begin.
Angela, close your eyes.
Take a deep, cleansing breath in...
and out.
Very good. Take in another breath.
And out.
Focus on your arms. They're very heavy.
Imagine them sinking into your chair.
Got your page. What's up?
When you washed the maggots from the eye sockets,
were there any remaining ocular tissue at all?
No. Little buggers ate through to the bone.
- I have an alternate explanation. - For the eyes missing?
Check out the tiny nicks around the supraorbital process,
the lachrymal bone, sphenoid.
You think the killer gouged out the eyes?
I think "gouged" is a good description, using some kind of curved instrument.
Probably the hoof knife.
The murderer cutting off the feet, gouging out the eyes... This was a bloody, violent killing.
Killers are often driven by fury.
No. The feet weren't lopped off, they were removed carefully.
The eyes were gouged out. This was done by someone not squeamish about flesh.
The butcher's alibi checked out.
Booth said some of those pony people were lawyers, judges... and doctors.
You think a doctor did this?
Someone who's good with a knife and not afraid of blood?
Annie Oakley is a doctor, and she was the victim's groom.
But she wasn't the only doctor at the convention.
I found evidence of sperm in Ed Milner's urogenital tract.
Why is that relevant?
Annie Oakley claims she rubbed down her pony and then went to sleep.
You think she had one last romp with the decedent?
Well, if she lied about that, what else is she lying about?
Very good. We're ready now to begin the journey.
If you can hear me, Angela, nod your head.
Very good.
You're on the island of Vatulolo in Fiji, in the village of Nakavala.
I'm pretty sure I'm on the Rialto Bridge in Venice.
No, you're on the beach in Fiji.
In front of you is a red door.
No. There's not.
I need for you not to fight me, Angela.
- Do you see the door? - I see the door.
When you pull the door open, your husband will be standing in front of you.
When you see him, you will greet him by his proper name.
I'm going to pull it open.
Pull the knob.
Angela, I'm gonna count to three, and when I reach three
you're going to open up your eyes, you're going to feel relaxed and refreshed.
You'll remember everything, but you're not going to be scared.
One, two, three.
- Did it work? - Angela, tell me your husband's name.
I opened the door... and I saw a wasp.
A White Anglo-Saxon Protestant?
- No, a big, flying, stinging insect. - Buzzing around your husband's head?
No, it was the size of... of a human being. And it was a very large human being.
I see.
What does that mean to you?
- Nothing. - It must.
I'm sorry. I have no idea.
Well, you're not what I would call a compliant personality.
This is my fault?
Perhaps in another session we'll explore this wasp.
Yeah. And next time I'll open the door to what? A giant snake?
I don't think so, Doc.
You're an eye surgeon, Dr Ostenbach. Ed Milner's eyes were cut out.
Don't you have to wait till I call my lawyer?
We can execute the warrant, you can call your lawyer.
Sparkles is a litigation lawyer.
Oh, a lawyer named Sparkles. Now I'm shivering.
Look, you're making a mistake.
I did not kill Ed Milner.
- She actually killed her pony, Mister Ed. - Look, I loved Mister Ed.
But he didn't love you back. Not enough to leave his wife.
What happened? Did he talk to you before you returned him into a human being?
You don't know anything.
I'm pretty sure he told you he was going back to his wife.
And you convinced him to engage in one last session of pony play.
You took Lucky's truck out to the pasture, had sex with him and... finished him off.
Hiding in plain sight. Thanks for making this part easy.
That's a hoof knife. So what?
Your DNA will be on the handle and Ed Milner's blood on the blade.
Mister Ed's blood.
Your pony misbehaved, so you stabbed him in the forehead.
You cut off his feet, bound his wrists.
But his human eyes were staring back at you, so you gouged 'em out.
I left my husband for him.
I left Thor for him.
And he was gonna leave me?
What was I supposed to do?
- Hey. - Hey.
So I, uh... I looked up "wasp" in dream theory.
- I love dream theory. - I know you do.
And guess what I found. A wasp signifies anger and envy.
- Bees are good. Any chance it was a bee? - No, Jack.
A book about nuclear radiation creating a giant wasp.
I was reading it in Fiji. I mean, between all the snorkelling and the...
- Sightseeing. - Let's go with that.
- What's it mean? - Look inside.
- That's Berimbau. - Mm-hm.
His face is turned, so there's still not much to go on. God, the guy is a giant.
Flip the picture.
"Angie and Grayson."
- His name was Grayson. - Grayson Barasa.
Once I say the first name, the rest of it just flows out. Grayson Barasa.
You did it, Angie.
- You really do want to find him. - I really, really do.
- To divorce him. - I want a divorce.
And then I want a wedding.
How's that salad?
There are many health benefits to being vegetarian.
It's a rational choice in a world where food supplies
are affected by global-warming issues.
What about global taste issues?
Is that meat sweet, rich, super-lean and soft?
- What, does it taste like horse meat? - You should consider vegetarianism too.
I didn't lose my appetite because of horse meat.
I lost my appetite because you made me think about all those people parading around
pretending to be something they aren't just so they could have crappy sex.
- How do you know it's crappy? - Gotta be. Come on, it's gotta be.
Why?
Why? I'll tell you why.
Here we are, all of us, basically alone,
separate creatures just circling each other,
all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection.
Some look in the wrong places.
Some give up hope because they're thinking, "Oh, there's nobody out there for me."
But all of us, we keep trying over and over again.
Why? Because every once in a while... every once in a while...
two people meet and there's that spark.
And yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful,
and maybe that's all they see at first.
But making love?
Making love...
that's when two people become one.
It is... scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space.
Yeah. But what's important is we try.
And when we do it right, we get close.
To what? Breaking the laws of physics?
Yeah, Bones. A miracle.
Those people, role-playing and their fetishes and their little sex games - it's crappy sex.
Well, at least compared to the real thing.
- You're right. - Yeah, but...
Wait a second. I just won that argument?
Yup.
What's that mean?
ENGLISH SDH