Forget CSI: Miami—this is CSI: Adelaide, where the corpses are dapper, the calves are suspiciously jacked, and the detectives are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

Nick and Ryan crack open the mystery of the Somerton Man, a 1948 beachside “who-dunnit” featuring:

• A corpse dressed sharper than a banker on Derby Day, but with all his clothing tags cut off like he was sponsored by Goodwill’s Witness Protection Program.
  
  
• A secret scrap of paper reading “Tamám Shud” (translation: “The End,” or “plot twist, bitch”),
  
  
• Doctors who could only agree on two things: (1) this guy had elite ballerina calves, and (2) his liver was working as hard as Nick and Ryan’s after three old fashioneds.
  
  
• A suitcase full of clothes with no labels, a sewing kit with sketchy orange thread, and a missing penis pump (probably).
  
  
• A code in a Persian poetry book that no one has ever solved—because nothing says espionage like a half-finished Sudoku from 1100 A.D.
  
  

Along the way, you’ll meet Joe Thompson, the woman who “definitely didn’t know him” while nearly fainting at his face cast, and Greg the Professor, who somehow knew way too much about foxglove tea and poison arrows (we see you, Greg).

Bottom line: this isn’t Dateline—it’s a Cold War mystery retold by two brothers who measure credibility in whiskey pours and have decided the best legacy you can leave behind… is being remembered for your calves.

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