Emcee: Uh, our next comic tonight, I just want to warn you, if you don't laugh, he might autopsy you. I'm serious, but I'll, I'll let him explain. Please welcome to the stage Mr. Eugene Hawes!
Dr. Eugene Hawes: Thanks. Wow. This is a good-looking crowd. Everyone's upright, no signs of rigor mortis. I would know, I work in a Morgue. I'm a medical examiner.
Audience member: Hey, I thought you were a comedian.
Hawes: Um, uh, well, then uh, sir, you'd be mistaken. Look around, this is clearly a pathologist convention.
Joan Watson: You were great!
Hawes: Four laughs, three groans, a new personal best.
Watson: I have to be honest, I was nervous for you.
Hawes: I mean, what's the worst that could happen? A lot of these stand-ups at these open mics talk about bombing, but, hey, I've lived through a real bombing. People don't want to laugh at my jokes, I'll be okay.
Watson: Are you still going to therapy, uh, the survivor meetings? Stuff like that?
Hawes: Oh, yeah, yeah. This is just one more outlet. But I got to say, it's my favorite. Feeling a lot better. Almost ready to get back to work.
Watson: Good. We miss you. Oh, Sherlock is sorry that he couldn't make it. Uh, this girl that he's been seeing, it's her birthday.
Hawes: "Seeing"? Like, a girlfriend? Tell me more.
Watson: Oh, I wish I could. It's work. I have to go.
Hawes: Thanks for coming. I'll see you soon.
Watson: You better.
Emil Kurtz: Bottom shelf. Barnaby's Historical World Atlas.
Watson: You know, we don't have to do this whole secret agent thing. We could just uh, talk like normal people.
Kurtz: That's easy for you to say. You're not the one spying on Morland Holmes. That's everything I could find on all our recent dealings in Russia. I'm guessing what you're really after is in the back. Wire transfers. He paid off four cops, two correctional officers, and a prison warden, all in the city of Novgorod.
Watson: These are all small sums. Do you think they were bribes?
Kurtz: Yeah, I made a couple calls. There's a manhunt on for an escaped prisoner named Ruslan Krasnov. This guy killed the wrong oligarch's son a couple years back, got sentenced to life. Last month, he broke out. Seems Mr. Holmes wants to find him before the Russian authorities do. How much longer are you gonna make me do this?
Watson: I'll know when I know.
Kurtz: You, you got me digging into areas I don't belong. It's too risky. I'm gonna get caught.
Watson: Would you rather I tell Morland that you were selling secrets to his competitor? Keep it up.
Young Uni: Police! Stop right there! I said stop right there! I said stop! This is foot post 11-02, in pursuit of a bag-snatch suspect. Headed west on Sullivan and Ferris. There you go. Smart move, man.
Thief: I didn't do it.
Uni: Yeah, you can save that for the judge, man. I saw you snatch that bag.
Thief: No, that's not what I mean. I didn't do that.
Sherlock Holmes: See you've met Miss Purrdy. She was meant to be a birthday present. Fiona, of course, loves felines, but the feeling was not mutual. This animal is particular. Seems she likes you though.
Watson: She's not moving in, is she?
Sherlock: No, Ms. Hudson seems quite enthusiastic about adopting the beast. I'm dropping her off later today. You may unclench.
Watson: Oh.
Sherlock: I understand Eugene had a more successful evening than I did.
Watson: Who told you that?
Sherlock: You told an amateur comedian that I was in a new relationship, so he e-mailed me the moment you left to get my opinion on a five-minute riff he is developing on the fairer sex. Wished us well on the new case, by the way. The one which dragged you away.
Watson: Mmm, it was a white lie. An old friend called to chat. I ducked out early.
Sherlock: "An old friend." You're typically more expansive after your first hit of caffeine.
Watson: Yeah, well, you brought a bald cat to breakfast. I'm a little distracted.
Sherlock: Well, when you recover your wits, Marcus texted. There's been a double homicide in Red Hook. Join us when you're ready.
Sherlock: Good morning, Detective.
Detective Bell: I can think of two guys who would disagree.
Sherlock: So at first blush, it would seem that a carjacker and his would-be prey opened fire on each other, but obviously all is not as it appears.
Bell: They both had I.D. Jared Talt's the driver. Vehicle's registered to his company, Open Road Land Development. He might have been out here looking at property. I don't know. Butch Callahan, meanwhile, is an army vet. He's got a sheet, but it's just petty larceny and a few misdemeanor assaults and discons.
Sherlock: Nothing in the vein of grand theft auto or armed robbery?
Bell: No, and this wouldn't just be out of character. You, you see his belt? It was put on clockwise. I think he's a lefty. And yet the gun is next to his right hand. Now, I can think of a few reasons he might have ended up with the gun in his right hand, but the position of Talt's gun looks funny to me, too. Guy gets blasted with a .45 from point-blank range, and then calmly lowers the weapon into his lap?
Sherlock: You would expect it to end up somewhere on the floor of the vehicle.
Bell: I think someone else killed these guys and made it look like they shot each other.
Sherlock: Why is CSU using flash to take photographs in broad daylight?
Bell: They're not. Crime scene photog went home ten minutes ago.
Sherlock: Then what's that noise?
Bell: What noise?
Sherlock: The noise.
Bell: What is that?
Sherlock: If I had to guess, I'd say it was dropped in Mr. Callahan's blood, cracking the lens and causing the flash to malfunction. Probably why it was tossed.
Bell: Guess he didn't want to walk away from a double homicide carrying a strobe light. Of course, you got to wonder why he brought a camera in the first place. What? He didn't take a selfie, did he?
Sherlock: No. But how often do you get to see through the killer's eyes? Camera was brand-new, only four snaps on it, all of Jared Talt and all the same.
Bell: Weird thing is none of them match what we saw at the scene. Take a look at the pictures CSU took this morning.
Captain Gregson: He was slumped back like that when you got there? First responders didn't monkey with him, try to check his pulse or something?
Bell: No, we think the killer moved him. He would have had to climb into the car to put Mr. Talt's prints on the gun, take a shot, stage all that. When he was through, he left the body like this.
Sherlock: There's little doubt that those steps were taken, but they don't account for every discrepancy.
Watson: Why pry his eyes open?
Gregson: That's a good question. Then again, there are others. Why kill two guys and dress it up like a carjacking? Why take pictures of it?
Watson: Do we know if there was a connection between the victims?
Bell: Not yet. Right now I couldn't tell you if one of them was the intended target and the other was a witness, or if they were both victims of a thrill-kill.
Watson: Well, we know that Jared Talt was the one that the killer was interested in. He was the wealthier of the two. Uh, maybe we should start there, get some background.
Bell: I contacted his wife, but she was up in Vermont visiting a sister. She's driving back this afternoon. There's also a business partner in Westchester.
Sherlock: On Butch Callahan's side, there's only his girlfriend, Roxanne Ortiz.
Gregson: All right, you two take the girlfriend. Joan and I will take the business partner.
Davis Potter: Sorry I'm not dressed. Uh, after I got the news about Jared, I could hardly get out of bed.
Watson: Please, don't worry about it. We're sorry for your loss.
Gregson: Uh, Mr. Potter, we were wondering if you knew the second man that was killed, Butch Callahan.
Potter: This is the guy who tried to carjack Jared?
Gregson: Well, we're not entirely sure that's what happened. There's a good chance that, uh, both men were killed by the same person.
Potter: No. Nope, I've never seen this man before.
Gregson: Um, is this Jared's desk?
Potter: Yeah. A few deals went belly-up last year. We could barely afford a real office, so about uh, six months ago, my house became our headquarters.
Gregson: Something like that can put a lot of stress on a partnership.
Potter: Yeah, it did. But we were friends first, partners second.
Watson: So what will happen to your business now?
Potter: Usually with a setup like ours, assets are divided between the surviving partner and the heirs of the deceased. Thing is we don't currently have any assets. Just liabilities and a lawsuit.
Watson: The lawsuit, was it contentious? Something that could've made Jared a target?
Potter: No. I don't think so. We bought this acreage a stone's throw from Lake Placid. Geologists told us there was big fracking potential. We were just about to flip the mineral rights to an oil company when the governor banned fracking. Just our luck, only state in the country to do it. The oil company put the brakes on the deal, Jared and I got stuck with this, a white elephant.
Watson: So you're suing.
Potter: The State of New York, right. Us and few other businesses. That is not looking good. Look, I'm not a big fan of anyone in the governor's office. But no, I don't think any of them wanted Jared dead.
Gregson: Uh, last question. We got to ask. Where were you last night?
Potter: I was cooped up here all day, grinding on a re-fi, so I went to a Knicks game to unwind. Not that they're making unwinding very easy this year. I went with friends. I'll give you their names.
Roxanne Ortiz: This is the other guy?
Bell: Jared Talt.
Ortiz: I don't know him. I don't think Butch knew him. But then again, what do I know? Butch was Butch. A lot of people loved him.
Sherlock: We reviewed his arrest record this morning. It would seem that there were some people he didn't get along with.
Ortiz: You're talking about the bar fights. But that was years ago. When I met Butch, he'd come back from Afghanistan. He was drinking. He had a really hard time readjusting. People do. But I got him into a program at the VA. We were talking about getting married. I think he was gonna ask me one of these days. That would've been good.
Bell: I'm sorry, there's just a few more things you could help us with. There was a gun found next to Butch.
Ortiz: Was it a .45? A Colt?
Bell: Yep.
Ortiz: That was his dad's. He would carry it sometimes. I didn't like it. But it was the city. Butch would always say, "It's dangerous out there."
Sherlock: Looks like it was pretty dangerous in here as well.
Ortiz: What the hell is that?!
Bell: Looks like a bloody shirt to me. You never seen it before?
Sherlock: What about this one?
Ortiz: No.
Sherlock: No? Food coloring. And corn syrup.
Bell: That's not blood?
Sherlock: No. But it is proof of a conspiracy.
Watson: Hi, got your text. What's up?
Sherlock: I need you to pick out a shirt for me. Can you tell which one of these Jared Talt was wearing when he was killed last night?
Watson: He wasn't wearing any of them. None of them have bullet holes.
Sherlock: That's right. They are otherwise identical to the one he died in. They're the same brand, same size, same color.
Watson: What? Magic Marker? What are these?
Sherlock: Failed experiments. This one was done with food coloring. This one with paint. I found them in Butch Callahan's rubbish bin.
Watson: So, what was he doing with three different versions of Jared Talt's shirts spattered with red?
Sherlock: He was trying to determine which type of fake blood was most photogenic. Ultimate he went with pig's blood from the butcher's, a wise, if obvious choice. The lab already confirmed it.
Watson: So that camera you found, it didn't belong to the killer.
Sherlock: It belonged to Butch Callahan. He took this photograph of Jared Talt, while Mr. Talt was still very much alive. That's why his body was in a different position when we found him. Here he was still quite capable of moving around.
Watson: So they did know each other.
Sherlock: Evidently well enough to engage in a rather strange conspiracy. I'm quite convinced that they were staging a fake murder, when they fell victim to two real ones.
Gregson: So two nights ago, Butch Callahan was helping to stage Jared Talt's murder, when someone came along and shot them both for real. The shooter got Callahan first, and then he used Callahan's gun to shoot Talt, so it looked like the two of them killed each other.
Bell: That's what we think.
Gregson: Does anyone have any idea why Talt would fake his own murder?
Sherlock: Well, we think perhaps someone wanted him dead. The photographs that Callahan took were meant to fool that individual.
Gregson: How long can you fool someone without a body?
Watson: Not very. But think of the scam the police use to catch people who want to hire a hit man. Husband wants his wife dead, so he contracts her murder. Only he doesn't realize he's hired an undercover cop. Cop takes pictures of his wife, who looks dead. Shows them to the husband. Husband pays up. Cop arrests him.
Gregson: So, okay, in this scenario, Butch Callahan is the cop, right? Someone hired him to kill Jared Talt. Only instead of going through with it, he went straight to Talt and told him everything. And instead of going to the police and asking them to build a case, they start doing it themselves, why?
Sherlock: We think that blackmail was their ultimate goal.
Bell: A couple days before he died, Butch Callahan went to an electronics store and bought a pen with a microphone hidden in the tip. We figure he was gonna use it to record the conversation with the guy who hired him after the guy got a look at the fake pictures.
Gregson: Except he and Talt never got that far.
Watson: The person who hired Butch must've caught onto the double-cross. So he killed Butch and Jared Talt himself.
Gregson: So the question is who wanted Jared Talt dead so badly that he hired a hit man to make it happen?
Sherlock: Mrs. Talt is on her way here. Strikes me as an excellent person to ask.
Ida Talt: I'm sorry again I couldn't be here yesterday. But it was good to be with my sister. She took care of me. Got me on the road this morning.
Gregson: Things were good between you and your husband?
Ida: Of course, why?
Bell: Did he have any enemies? Anyone who might've wished him ill?
Ida: Jared was killed by a car-jacker. They shot each other. So why do you want to know about my marriage? Why would you ask if he had enemies?
Gregson: Well, since yesterday, some, uh, new details have come to light, so our theory about the crime is a little bit, uh, fluid at the moment.
Bell: There's a chance your husband died, because someone wanted him dead.
Ida: I don't get it. Are, are you saying you think what happened to Jared was...arranged by someone?
Gregson: It's something we're considering.
Ida: That son of a bitch!
Gregson: Who?
Ida: Davis.
Gregson: Davis Potter, his business partner?
Ida: They've been arguing a lot. The company's been losing money for a long time now. It was affecting me and Jared, our home life. I didn't love him any less. But we had to take out a second mortgage. Cash out our life insurance policy. We, we sold our boat, Jared's coin collection. Even my engagement ring. Davis though, he comes from money. He has a trust fund. He isn't married. And they got in a huge fight last week. Jared wanted him to unload some piece of property, but he refused. "Don't push me," he said. You want to talk to someone who would've hurt Jared? You talk to him.
Gregson: Well, if she's right, Davis Potter really is behind the shootings, he couldn't have pulled the trigger himself. His story checked out. Three buddies and a couple of security cameras put him at the Knicks game at the time of the murders.
Sherlock: Of course they did, would be a shame to let such an ironclad alibi go to waste.
Gregson: Meaning what?
Sherlock: Well, I imagine the game was part of the original plan of Butch Callahan. Why his partner was being perforated several miles away, he's got club-level seats at the Garden.
Watson: When he realized that Butch was planning to betray him, he hired a second hit man. A far more dependable one, obviously.
Gregson: Hmm. Well, so much for catching him by surprise. I'll have Marcus comb through his phone records again. If he did hire a second gunman, maybe we'll find some trace of it.
Sherlock: Keep us posted, will you?
Gregson: What, you're not coming back to the station?
Sherlock: We have an appointment to keep with a private client. I've uh, summoned a car to come pick us up.
Gregson: I'll let you know when I get Potter on a leash.
Watson: We don't have a meeting with a private client.
Sherlock: No, we've got business to attend to here.
Watson: Obviously, you want to poke around in there, but I'm sure you saw the same alarm sensors on the windows that I did.
Sherlock: Mr. Potter's security system is top of the line. I've defeated that brand on only three out of 13 occasions, so breaking in would virtually guarantee a visit from the police.
Watson: So obviously we should do it.
Sherlock: No, you misunderstand. I've got no intention of infiltrating the house. Did you know, Watson, 90% of homes with security systems fail to include sensors on the garage doors?
Watson: Well, I do now.
Sherlock: I saw these through the window. Thought it might contain data, which would shed a more vivid light on the alleged rift between Messrs. Potter and Talt.
Watson: Hmm. I have to go.
Sherlock: Now?
Watson: Yeah. It's my mother. My stepfather was supposed to take her to see her neurologist, but he's stuck in a meeting with his publisher. I've got a car coming for real now. I'm gonna meet them on the corner, so the driver doesn't see you. I'll, I'll call you when I'm done, okay?
Watson: I didn't expect you to ask for a meeting so soon.
Kurtz: Yeah, well, this is the last one.
Watson: Excuse me?
Kurtz: Yesterday, my assistant was out sick. So I asked one of the secretaries down the hall to print out a contract I needed. And when I found my own copy later that night, I realized something was wrong, look.
Watson: These look like the same document.
Kurtz: Exactly. They look like the same document, but they aren't. Check the end of the second paragraph.
Watson: There's an extra space after the period here, but not here.
Kurtz: It isn't a typo, I asked a few other secretaries for copies of the same contract. Every one has that extra space in a different place. Mr. Holmes hired you to find a mole in his office. You told him there wasn't one, but obviously he didn't believe you.
Watson: You think he's fishing. He marked each copy differently. So that if the document was leaked, he would know where it came from.
Kurtz: It's more than that. This morning, he took me off of one project and put me on another. No explanation. I think he's onto me.
Watson: Emil?
Kurtz: No, we're done. Because if I keep helping you, we are both gonna get caught. Don't contact me again.
Watson: Uh, this is new.
Sherlock: Well, actually, it's very old. It's a 1941 Indian Scout. Extremely rare vintage motorcycle.
Watson: Can I assume this is the same vintage motorcycle that was in Davis Potter's garage this afternoon?
Sherlock: You know me, Watson. Sticky fingers.
Watson: Why...?
Sherlock: When the contents of Mr. Potter's filing cabinet proved disappointing, I couldn't help but look over his beautiful motorcycle. I only meant to admire it, so imagine my surprise when I found this in the saddlebag. It's a mileage log. As you may or may not be aware, antique vehicle owners often keep records of their trips so they can ensure that maintenance is performed at proper intervals. If you look at the most recent entry, you'll see that Mr. Potter logged a trip of 580 miles the same day that Butch Callahan and Jared Talt were murdered.
Watson: Well, he told me and the Captain that he never left the house.
Sherlock: He lied. Presumably because he doesn't want the police to know where he'd been.
Watson: Well, there are no destinations in here, only mileages.
Sherlock: Hence my borrowing of the motorcycle. I wanted to know where he'd been that day. I've been examining it for the last few hours, and I've found exactly two clues. First, a geological analysis of the sediment in the tire tread has yielded, amongst other, more common minerals, traces of migmatite, granulite and monzonite. Secondly this was trapped in the air filter.
Watson: An insect wing.
Sherlock: From a Boreal Snaketail dragonfly.
Watson: So how do a dragonfly wing and some strange minerals tell us where Davis Potter drove his motorcycle?
Sherlock: If Mr. Potter logged a trip of 580 miles, the very furthest he could've driven in any one direction is half that amount.
Watson: 290 miles.
Sherlock: The radius of this red circle is exactly that distance.
Watson: So Davis went to a point somewhere inside it.
Sherlock: The only area in there with deposits of migmatite, granulite and monzonite and a documented population of the Boreal Snaketail dragonfly is a stretch of forest here, just southwest of Lake Placid. Unfortunately, it has an area of 20 square miles, too large to suggest a specific answer to our query, but it's a start. How's your mother, by the way?
Watson: Uh, she's fine. Thanks. Wait a minute. Davis said that he and Jared owned property a stone's throw from Lake Placid. So that must've been where he went. But why would he lie to us about it?
Sherlock: I know a way to find out.
Watson: So, I walked all the way to the eastern edge of the property, and I did not find a thing. No dead bodies, no secret hideouts, no smoke monster. There's plenty of mud, though. I hope, for Jared's sake, that he wasn't killed over just some wet dirt. What about you? How'd you manage to stay so clean?
Sherlock: I never left this spot.
Watson: You're joking. We were supposed to split up. Have you seriously been sitting there the whole time?
Sherlock: Yeah.
Watson: But look at me. Look at my clothes. I saw a freakin' bear out there.
Sherlock: Did you also see plants such as these?
Watson: Yeah, they're ginseng plants. They're everywhere. So?
Sherlock: They're not just ginseng plants. They're old-growth ginseng plants. I think this root system is somewhere between ten and 15 years old. Have you any idea how rare old-growth ginseng is?
Watson: I mean, I know it's expensive.
Sherlock: Try $1,400 a pound. There are plants as far as the eye can see. While I awaited your return, I did my sums. The current value of old-growth ginseng times the square footage of this property minus the areas occupied by other visible flora. Davis Potter told you this property was worthless. I'd estimate its value to be somewhere in neighborhood of $20 million.
Potter: Is this some kind of a joke? Why would I want Jared dead? The guy was my best friend.
Sherlock: Was your friend, until you paid to have him killed.
Potter: Why would I do that? Jared dying it's going to ruin me.
Sherlock: That's true, but not in the way that you mean.
Gregson: Taking on Jared's share of your debt wouldn't have been cheap, but it would've paled in comparison to what you'd get as the sole owner of your most valuable property.
Potter: Which one? Our overgrown Putt-Putt golf course or our condemned warehouse full of asbestos?
Watson: What about the property you visited the day Jared was killed? Your white elephant near Lake Placid? We know it's covered in old-growth ginseng.
Potter: Wh, old-growth what?
Gregson: Don't. We made calls to ginseng dealers all over the state. We found one, named Xiang Wu, who said he'd met you at the property several times. You know how much it's worth.
Sherlock: Mr. Wu, however, was unaware that you owned the property with a partner. He says he's been negotiating with you and you alone.
Bell: Jared's wife told us there was one property you absolutely refused to unload. We're guessing this is the one. See, he didn't know anything about the ginseng, so when he pressured you to sell the place at a discount, you made a decision. He had to go.
Potter: Okay. Okay, maybe I was thinking of screwing Jared out of his share, but I'm not a killer. I told you, I was a Knicks game.
Gregson: We know, we checked. Your alibi is airtight. But the thing is, the penalty in New York for soliciting a murder is the same as if you committed the act yourself.
Watson: You lied when you said you didn't know Butch Callahan. You were both on Scoville High School's 1989 JV basketball team. So you hired your former teammate to kill your current partner.
Bell: Somehow, you realized Butch had teamed with Jared to blackmail you, so you had them both killed. That's a grand total of three counts of soliciting and two counts of murder.
Potter: Look you're right. Okay? I talked to Butch about Jared. I gave him $50,000 to help me out. He was gonna get another $50,000 after it was done. But everything else you're saying, no. I don't know anything about any blackmail, I don't know anything about any second hit man. That's crazy.
Gregson: Do yourself a favor, give us the name of the second guy.
Potter: I just told you, I can't. There was no second guy. Nobody was more surprised than I was when they both wound up dead. I got an e-mail from Butch the, the day before it happened. It'll prove I'm telling the truth.
Gregson: "We can meet after it's done. There's a bus stop at Van Dam and 37th. Bring the money. 2:00 a.m."
Potter: It's from an account he created just so we could talk about this stuff. 89WildcatPF@odkermail. "PF" is power forward, his position in '89. On the Wildcats.
Sherlock: Well, that proves that your friend is terrible at dreaming up digital aliases, but as far as exculpating you from the murders, it doesn't.
Potter: You don't get it. I went to that meeting. Why the hell would I do that if I knew they were both dead? I swear. I sat on a bench for two hours with $50,000 in a bag at my feet. When Butch never showed, I left. Somebody there had to have seen me.
Gregson: He's right, actually. If he's telling the truth, somebody would've.
Bell: The Captain subpoenaed the MTA for the on-board camera footage from all three buses that passed that stop between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m. the night of the murder.
Watson: He wasn't lying.
Bell: At least not about this. Looks like he waited at least two hours to pay Butch off. It's hard to imagine why he would do that if he really did hire someone to kill Butch and Jared.
Watson: So, aside from knowing that he'll go to prison for soliciting a murder, we're back to square one.
Sherlock: Or, or perhaps square two. Aside from Davis Potter, does anything else look familiar to you?
Watson: "Crystal Radio." I've seen those posters before.
Sherlock: Yes. That's because they're plastered up and down the block where Butch and Jared were slain.
Bell: Okay, but bands slap those things all over the place.
Sherlock: Some do, others have it done for them. So they thought the two locations were well-chosen. Other than the bus passing every hour or so, they were devoid of surveillance cameras. They seemed like good locations to stage a fake murder and have an illicit drop. Question is, who scouted those places? Now, when we visited Butch's girlfriend, Roxanne, did you notice the shirt she was wearing?
Bell: It's that one, isn't it? "Thunderclap 8."
Sherlock: Yeah. They would appear to be Crystal Radio's label-mates at Overmorrow Records. And look who works in the promotions department.
Watson: Roxanne Ortiz. She could've hung those posters.
Bell: You think she was in on the blackmail plan. Her connection to the two places might be a huge coincidence, but given that two men died at one of them, I think she deserves more consideration as a suspect.
Ortiz: You're wasting your time, you know. I loved Butch.
Sherlock: You mentioned that on our first visit. You did not mention that you'd been to the scene of the crime just a few days before.
Ortiz: I told you, I hang posters all over the city.
Sherlock: Including the bus stop where Butch planned to meet Davis Potter and gather blackmail materials against him.
Ortiz: I can't explain why Butch did what he did, okay? Maybe it was because we kept talking about marriage and he thought we needed the money. But I'm telling you, he never told me anything about a blackmail plan. If he had, I would've talked him out of it.
Sherlock: Mmm-hmm.
Bell: Hey!
Ortiz: You listening now? Good. If I was in on it, tell me why I would've killed Butch right before he was gonna get a bunch of money from that Potter guy.
Sherlock: Because you saw an opportunity to commit a murder at a time and place where suspicion would not fall on you and you took it, because you had another, more meaningful way to profit from Butch's death.
Ortiz: What are you talking about?
Bell: We're talking about the life insurance policy he had through the Army. Almost half a million dollars. It was about to lapse last year when you started paying the premiums. You also became the sole beneficiary.
Ortiz: I did. Right after I made Butch the beneficiary on my policy. Isn't that what people do for each other when they're in love? You find it weird that I hung posters in two places, but you know who helped me? Butch. Posting bills without permission is illegal, so most of the time, I would do it at night. He came with me. To make sure I was safe.
Bell: So he knew about the two locations, thanks to you, but you think he chose them himself?
Ortiz: That would explain why my posters were there, right?
Sherlock: It would. If it's true. But if it's all the same to you, we're just going to continue having a look around.
Morland Holmes: Joan. Good evening. Did I frighten you?
Watson: As a matter of fact, you did. Sherlock didn't tell me you were coming.
Morland: His communication has been poor these last few weeks. I left him a message, earlier. I explained that I had left an item in storage here, and that I wanted to retrieve it. But he never responded.
Watson: Are you telling me he doesn't even know you're here?
Morland: I let myself in. I hope you don't mind. This is Mr. Coin. He's a member of my security team.
Watson: Do you mind telling me what he was doing downstairs?
Morland: I thought the item in question might be in the basement. Mr. Coin was checking.
Watson: So he was poking around in my office.
Morland: You do recall who owns this building, don't you? Any luck? Mmm. Well, we'll be on our way.
Watson: Maybe you could describe this item that you're looking for. I could try and help you find it.
Morland: It's good to see you, Joan.
Watson: I take it the girlfriend did not confess last night.
Sherlock: She offered neither confession nor alibi, so, consequently, we will spend the day sorting through the flotsam of her sad life with Butch Callahan.
Watson: Oh. Wonderful. Did your father leave you a voicemail yesterday?
Sherlock: As a matter of fact, he did. Why?
Watson: Did he say he'd left something here in storage before we moved in?
Sherlock: You gonna tell me how you knew, or shall I guess?
Watson: He was here when I got home last night, he'd let himself in.
Sherlock: I'll change the locks, post-haste. Set a few traps.
Watson: Do you think he was telling the truth about wanting to uh, dig something out of storage?
Sherlock: Why would he not be? You'll have to continue without me.
Watson: Where are you going?
Sherlock: Marcus has asked me to return to the home of Roxanne Ortiz.
Watson: Did you guys miss something?
Sherlock: We must have. She set fire to the place an hour ago.
Sherlock: There are less dangerous ways to destroy evidence.
Bell: She claims that's not why she did it.
Ortiz: I wanted to hurt him.
Sherlock: Hurt who?
Ortiz: Butch. I wanted to hurt Butch. But he's dead already. I figured this is the next best thing. This is his family home. He grew up here, he cared about it. So I splashed some gasoline around and lit a match.
Sherlock: Last night, you eulogized your great love for him.
Ortiz: I got a call last week from this realtor in Tahiti. He said Mr. Taft's money still hadn't come in over the wire. I thought it was a wrong number, but this morning, the same guy called back, saying he received the money, and the condo was all lined up.
Bell: The condo.
Ortiz: Where Butch was running away to. He was leaving me.
Bell: You think he bought property in Tahiti under an assumed name and was gonna move there without you?
Ortiz: The guy said he'd been assured that the condo would only have one occupant. And when I asked him how much money Mr. Taft had sent, he said 25 grand. Exactly half of what you told me Butch got for saying he would kill the developer. I was telling you the truth last night. Butch never said anything about his stupid blackmail plan. He kept it from me. Now I know why. He was gonna go be "Myron Taft" in Tahiti.
Sherlock: Myron Taft?
Ortiz: Yeah.
Sherlock: Ms. Ortiz, I don't think your boyfriend was a very good man, but I don't think he was planning on leaving you. Nor do I think you murdered him. Marcus.
Bell: You get that she just gave us motive, right?
Sherlock: I do. A very strong motive. It just isn't hers.
Watson: Can't you just say "I told you so," like a normal person?!
Sherlock: Oh, I can't hear you over the Tahitian nose flute.
Watson: You were right, okay? I just got off the phone with Island Breeze Properties.
Sherlock: Were you able to identify the realtor that called Roxanne Ortiz?
Watson: It wasn't a wrong number. "Myron Taft's" application to lease a condo in Papeete came with a deposit from Butch's bank account. I asked the realtor to describe the driver's license they had on file. It was Jared Talt, to a T.
Sherlock: Or, more accurately, It was Jared Talt to an F. Passable forged IDs, difficult to come by, very expensive. Perhaps he doctored his own papers before he ran out on his wife and disappeared.
Watson: So Butch was just doing his new pal a favor, helping Jared keep her in the dark.
Sherlock: Clearly, it didn't work.
Watson: I know Roxanne Ortiz does not exactly dispel the myth of the woman scorned, but why do you think Ida Talt is behind the killings? I mean, she was in Vermont, right?
Sherlock: Not unless they moved the Battery Tunnel to Montpelier. Captain just sent this over. She was spotted paying a toll in the city one hour before the murders.
Watson: Someone's got some explaining to do.
Sherlock: Too early to turn screws just yet. Lying about an alibi is one thing, motive is another, but proof, that's something else entirely, and that, we don't have.
Watson: No. But I think I know where we can find some.
Gregson: You lied to us, Mrs. Talt. You weren't in Vermont with your sister when Jared died, as a matter of fact, it looks like you were in the same borough where he was killed.
Sherlock: It's actually not unusual for people to lie about their whereabouts when their spouses are murdered. Everyone knows that the police take a hard look at the husband or the wife, so when they don't have an alibi, they cook up a false one, even when they've got nothing to hide.
Watson: But that's not what happened here.
Ida: So you're accusing me?
Sherlock: Your husband was planning to blackmail his business partner and leave his life behind. You had every reason to feel betrayed.
Ida: I don't know what you're talking about. Jared never would have left me.
Gregson: No, he would have. You just never gave him the chance.
Sherlock: We don't presume to know all of the secrets of your marriage. We don't know, you know, what you knew or how you came to know it. Somehow, you had knowledge of Jared and Butch's plan to stage a fake killing. You saw your chance. You followed them to the site they had chosen. Brought a gun with you. You shot Butch first, but not before you realized he had a weapon of his own.
Gregson: You got a little too cute when you decided to stage the scene as if it was a carjacking gone wrong. 'Cause that meant there had to be gunshot residue on their hands and you had to take care of that, plant the weapons. The thing is, you used Butch's right hand to fire his gun. And he's left-handed.
Ida: No. I don't know where you're getting this.
Watson: Right here, actually.
Ida: What is that?
Watson: Broken auto glass.
Ida: I don't understand.
Gregson: You lied when you said that you sold your engagement ring 'cause you couldn't make ends meet. You just damaged it when you climbed into your husband's car to fire his gun.
Watson: The recoil knocked your hand into the window frame, jarring the diamond loose from your ring. Jared's car was placed in impound several days ago. The interior was covered with that pebble glass, so you can imagine why nobody noticed this.
Ida: I didn't realize. I woke up the next morning and it was gone. I didn't know where it went.
Watson: What are you doing?
Sherlock: Things did not work out between Ms. Hudson and Ms. Purrdy, so I'm posting an ad that I hope will deliver the animal to an owner less likely to leave Greek manuscripts in places they might be befouled.
Watson: And you're using Marcus' computer because...?
Sherlock: He's out. He was called to the scene of a shooting. So I was told by Detective Nash. The details are still coming in. If you go home, I wouldn't get too comfortable. Our presence might be requested. That is assuming, of course, you don't have any last-minute plans with parents or old friends.
Watson: Yeah, I'll keep an eye on my phone.
Bell: Marcus Bell, Major Case. What do we got?
Beat Cop: Robbery gone bad, sounds like. The cook was back there when it happened. Kept his head down, but he heard the whole thing. Apparently, the guy wanted the cash drawer.
Bell: So he shot two people?
Cop: Four. We just took two more over to St. Bede's. One woman was unconscious. I don't think she's gonna make it.
Bell: Anyone see which way he went?
Cop: No. He emptied the till and just strolled out like it was nothing. That's all we know. That's one cold psycho. To do all of this for a couple hundred bucks.
Bell: Uh, you're gonna help me till the cavalry arrives. I'll check I.D.s, you take notes.
Cop: Yeah.
Bell: First victim, Emil Kurtz.