All language subtitles for Bones.S04E01.BDRip.XviD-SAiNTS

In closing my lecture
on interstitial lamellae remodeling...

I'd like to address some issues...

that are not strictly confined
to forensic anthropology -

if it's all right with my host, Dr. Wexler.

I should think that
all but the most joyless wonks -

and, yes, I do refer
to you, Cyril Bibby -

would embrace a diversion
from haversian systems.

My partner,
F.B.I. Special Agent Seeley Booth...

gave his lecture at
Scotland Yard last night.

Agent Booth,
could you please stand up?

Hey, Booth!

Yeah. I'm here.
What's up?

Agent Booth is
the intuitive humanist...

while I am the logical empiricist.

Although recently, I have seen...

how destructive pure logic can be.

My own assistant, the most
brilliant young man I've ever met-

Ended up a sidekick
to a cannibalistic serial killer.

I-I haven't invited you to join me, Booth,
so you can take your seat.

What I've learned from Agent Booth...

is that we scientists must arm ourselves...

with something other
than pure logic.

A quality which deflects us from an
irrational admiration for the rational.

Exactly.

How old is that guy?

What- Ian?
He's a year younger than I am.

And almost as brilliant.
What'd you think of my speech?

- It got better towards the end.
- You mean after you interrupted me?

I'm sorry. Look.
It wasn't that I was bored.

Mostly, it's just that I was tired, okay?
The boobies took me out for a beer last night.

- "Bobbies." They're called bobbies.
- I'm pretty sure that...

- Sarah, Pauline and Jacqueline are,
you know, boobies- - Dr. Brennan!

Dr. Brennan. What a wonderful lecture.
Fantastic. Sublime. Great.

- Thank you, Dr. Wexler.
- Who knew such a shapeless robe could be so evocative.

Of academia I mean, of course.

Just one moment with
my colleague, please, Agent Booth.

Um, over the last few days...

- I have been warned many times to watch out for you.
- Warned?

That sounds dangerous.

Was it something
along the lines of, oh...

"Look out for Ian Wexler.
He's a young genius on the rise"?

- How can you flirt with me
while ignoring your phone?

Well, I'm a man of perspective.

Besides, I find that if one ignores the thing
long enough, generally it stops ringing.

And then later, at my leisure,
it will tell me what it wanted.

Dr. Ian Wexler.

Don't leave. This is noth -
Murder? What kind of murder?

Well, is it a boring one, or is it a violent one?
Is your interest peaked?

What-Are you being serious?

I'm going to pass you over
to a colleague of mine.

I'd simply like you to state the origin
of this call. Thank you.

Scotland Yard?
Homicide?

Cheers.
Well, would you like to tag along?

It is murder.
Can't promise anything...

but it is possible
that a famous heiress is involved.

I'm keen as ketchup.

Mustard. Keen as mustard.
Excellent effort at the colloquialism though.

Very impressive.

- Does your cowboy want to tag along?
- Please don't call him that.

- He'd find it insulting?
- No.

He'd love it.

A little higher, John!

Stand back, please.

Inspector Cate Pritchard of Scotland Yard...

- I'd like you to meet -
- Ah, Agent Booth.

- Yes. Yes.
- Hello. I very much enjoyed your presentation last night.

He's very active- sound effects,
visual aids, all sorts of props.

Although, he complained at great length
about having to check his gun with us.

Well, you know, without a gun,
I'm practically naked. Isn't that right, Bones?

- Inspector Pritchard, meet Dr. Brennan.
- Charming.

- She's exactly like me.
- Charming, tenacious, salacious, sophomoric...

euphoric, noble, ignoble...

fatuous, horrid, morbid,
torpid and tedious?

Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere, Cate.

So you found Portia Frampton?

The way we usually work
is I drag the bodies out of the Thames...

and you use your extraordinary
capabilities to identify them.

Bones, they're like
the English version of me and you.

- Do you think it might be her?
- This certainly is her car.

Portia Frampton. She's an American,
as is her father. Do you know him?

Not all Americans know each other.
There are quite a lot of them.

Roger Frampton- airlines,
Internet ventures, luxury construction.

Full disclosure, Cate. I'm currently
analyzing one of his construction sites.

Frampton wishes to build skyscrapers...

over what may prove to be a Bronze Age
treasure trove or maybe just a rubbish tip.

- Well, they aren't mutually exclusive.
- Exactly.

This vehicle's number plate
matches Miss Frampton's.

Obviously, this vehicle entered the Thames
at some distance upstream...

before coming to ground here.

What do you think, Dr. Brennan?
Female or transvestite?

- Female.
- Mm-hmm.

Late teens, early 20s.

Penetrating trauma
to the parietal bone.

Someone hit her on the head
with a sharp object.

You have to do that as well, do you -
translate for him?

- You have to deal with that too?
- Is it murder?

- Yes.
- If this is Portia Frampton...

then her father will no doubt
demand F.B.I. involvement.

- Why?
- They're American.

You won't have any real
jurisdiction, you understand?

Well, not beyond what I grant you
out of courtesy.

Well, that whole
"no jurisdiction" thing...

that really doesn't fly
in the F.B.I.

- Just tell him he can have a gun.
- But he can't.

Well, as they say in America,
hasta la vista, baby.

Look, Agent Booth, I will -
I will do my utmost to get you a gun.

In that case -
excuse me -

Bones and I are the best
crime-solving team in America.

- Well, we're in England.
- Let's all just try and pull together, shall we?

One nice, little, happy
transnational unit of inquiry.

Well, we should have these remains
sent back to the Jeffersonian...

as well as any silt samples and parts
of vehicle that may contain trace evidence.

Well, how do you feel about that,
Dr. Wexler?

Oh, I'm looking forward to completely
surrendering myself to Dr. Brennan.

You heard her. Back to the Jeffersonian,
all of it. Put it in the overhead.

Brennan
sent all this evidence from England?

Not just evidence,
but actual human remains.

The Brits used dental records -
no jokes, please-

- to identify the daughter of a wealthy ex-pat.
- Typical American billionaire.

- Thinks we can do it better.
- Because we can do it better.

- X-rays for you, Clark.
- Thank you.

I'll take the body, see if there's
any soft tissue worth looking at.

- And these crime scene photos are mine.
- Check it out.

British slime. So much more proper
than American slime.

- Some kind of paper.
- I'll see if there's anything on it.

Okay, as usual, I'll need
constant progress reports.

Angela.

Oh, my God!

Grayson.

Angela.

That's the last bit of sugar you're ever
gonna get from me. I want my divorce.

Portia Frampton, only daughter
of Roger Frampton, 47 -

formerly of Ringwood, New Jersey -
and Sarah Frampton...

n�e Burroughs- deceased 1994 -
of Cheltenham, England.

You wouldn't believe what
my hotel gave me for breakfast.

It was like this brown goo,
and some kind of meat -

- I think it was a sausage- about the size
of my finger. - I had an entire buffet.

You're staying at
the Duke of something, all right?

- I'm at the Beefeater Hotel/Motel.
- You ate at a Beefeater?

- That's brave.
- Brave is right.

- This is the weakest coffee I've ever had.
- Booth, that's tea.

Okay, two weeks ago,
Miss Frampton was last seen...

leaving her home the morning after
her 21st birthday party.

It's quite a coincidence that Dr. Wexler
is working for the victim's father.

Well, not working for him actually.

Working for the city. But I shall check
my diary to see if I killed her.

Portia's party broke up
around 2:00 a.m...

- and she was reported missing the following afternoon.
- Hmm.

- The question is, why?
- She was probably reported missing...

- Because nobody could find her.
- Ian.

And I suspect the reason
nobody could find her was because...

Portia was in a car
on the bottom of the River Thames.

- Just a theory, mind.
- It's a great theory.

Can you hold on to that
for one second? Thanks.

Me and Dr. Brennan
will go talk to the family.

- Together?
- That's what we do.

Do you hear that, Inspector?
That's extraordinary.

Sweet.

Portia Frampton was struck from behind.

Trauma to the zygomatic
suggests that she fell to the ground...

- and then was struck again at least two more times.
- Weapon?

The Brits weren't able
to recover all the skull fragments...

- So it's nearly impossible to tell.
- Excuse me.

I'd like you to meet my husband.

My soon-to-be ex-husband.

- We must talk.
- This is Birimbau?

I prefer my real name:
Grayson Barasa.

Very nice to meet you all.

Listen, uh...

I realize that Grayson
is very lovely.

- He certainly is.
- Thank you.

- He's a big dude.
- But until Grayson hands over signed divorce papers...

I don't really need
Hodgins seeing everybody...

gawking at him like
he's some kind of God.

Yeah, but he is some kind of God -
the best kind.

Cam.
A little help here?

Yeah.

Oh, my God.

Poor Hodgins.
Wow.

Look at that guy.
He's just -

Look at him.

I'm sorry.

- Hodgins?
- Hey, Angie.

This is Grayson Barasa -
Birimbau.

Please, tell me you are here
to sign the divorce papers.

I can't do that.

I'm still in love with Angela.

Of course you are.
Uh -

I... understand.

But Angela is in love with me.

- I told you, Grayson.
- Angela.

Do you remember the night we met?

Vaguely.

Ah, the waves were phosphorescent...

like the world was upside down and we were
swimming naked through the Milky Way.

Bioluminescent phytoplankton.
Nothing mystic.

We talked about how
the universe speaks to us.

And when our lips met -

I apologize.

No worries.
Our lips meet all the time.

Bells.

- What?
- No, Hodgins.

Literally, bells started ringing.
It was nothing cosmic.

Every bell on the island rang out.

It was during the Shark Festival of Bells.
What did you expect to happen?

A 21-gun salute?

So-So-So what about
the divorce papers?

You need time to talk.

Yuck it up, laughing boy. Wait until
one of your ex-girlfriends comes to visit.

Mmm. Yeah.

- Back to work.
- Yeah.

One of the reasons
we moved away from the States...

was to get away from the violence.

- Now look what happened.
- Mr. Frampton, look. We're very sorry...

- For the loss of your daughter.
- What was it?

- Was it a robbery?
- We don't know yet.

- I'm gonna need a list of your enemies.
- What enemies?

Well, you're a very aggressive
American businessman living here in England.

- You must have enemies.
- My daughter was a very sweet, innocent girl.

Not always, Mr. Frampton.

What the hell are you asking for anyway?

- So you can put that picture away, Dr. Brennan.
- Miss Miller...

how close were you
with your stepdaughter?

Heather and I are not married yet.

Portia was like
a younger sister to me.

- We talked about everything -
clothes, school, Harry. - Harry.

- Who's Harry?
- Lord Henry Albert Bonham.

Right. Is that some kind of crusty old
politician or something?

Lord Bonham is a very uncrusty young man -
heir to the Duke of Innesford.

Right. Harry Henry Bonham whatever.

I read the tabloids. There was no mention
of Portia dating any kind of royalty.

The duke wanted it kept a secret.

The duke would be the lord's father.

- I got it, Bones. I understand, okay?
- I'm just trying to help.

So the duke says something,
and all of the sudden, magically it happens?

- Welcome to England.
- A murderer's a murderer...

no matter how close
he is to the throne.

Please, help me find out
who did this to my daughter.

Why did you rent this?

I didn't rent this, okay?
They screwed up at the rent-a-car place.

I ordered an Aston. You know, James Bond.
But they gave me -

Yeah, they gave you an Austin.
It could happen to anyone. Um-

We drive on the left here, as you may recall.

Driving here requires
a different skill set.

- I can take the wheel. I'm an excellent driver.
- Thank you, Rain Man.

No, I'm fine.
I'll tell you what.

Back home, we'd drag the whole
royal family in to interrogation separately.

Let 'em stew, catch 'em in a lie.

We could do that, if you like,
but it'll give them time to close up.

Do stay to the left here, please.

- Close up?
- Tighten ranks.

Nothing is as impenetrable as the aristocracy
freezing out hoi polloi interlopers.

I must say, I'm rather looking forward to
two Americans bearding the lion in his den.

- The light is red.
- That's okay. I'm turning right.

Turning right on a red here
is the equivalent of turning left...

- Into the wrong lane on a red at home.
- That makes no sense to me.

The point is,
it's against the law to turn on a red-

Brake! Brake!

Brake!

Brake!

Get out of the way, you wanker!

Okay, I think we should wait here
until the traffic thins out.

God! I hate London!

I hate England!
I'm glad we had a revolution!

Bollocks!

Brennan.

And the weather here! It's cloudy -

The fatty acid composition of the victim's
cervical fluid caught my attention...

so I ran some more tests.

Turns out
Portia Frampton was pregnant.

- Pregnant? How far along?
- And coffee!

What is so hard about
making a cup...

of black coffee!

About two months.

Thanks, Cam.

Okay, I feel much better. What'd I miss?

Lord Henry Bonham, heir to the
Duke of Innesford, knocked up the victim.

Right.
The royals hate bastards.

- Only the ones that don't make king.
- Hang on, girls.

We're getting out of this toilet swirl.

Oh! Nice castle.

No. Castles were originally designed
for military purposes- to withstand attack.

This is more
properly called a palace.

Bones.
A little help getting out, Bones.

Geez!

God! Geez!
Heads up.

Gettin' out of this thing is like being born.

- Oh. Is that the duke?
- It's his gentleman's gentleman.

It's a butler.

How ya doin' there, sport?
Right. F.B.I.

You might as well put this one away.
It's worthless.

- And yet, here I am. You mind waiting outside?
- Why?

It's because Agent Booth
not only wants the aristocrats off-balance.

- He wants them upside down.
- He'll annoy them, you mean?

Let's say the duke and duchess
won't be used to your approach.

Listen. Word of advice.

When they start commenting on you to
each other, you've got them on the run.

Right.

I noticed in the crime scene photos that the
back seats of the S.U.V. were folded down...

which started me thinking
that maybe the victim...

was transporting something,
you know, worth stealing.

So Brennan had strips of material
sent from the vehicle, which I analyzed.

ST-90 transmission oil.
It's made with polyalphaolefin.

Leaded, acidic H20 residue, and
plenty of polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons.

- Don't make her ask.
- Thank you, Angela.

A motorcycle was transported
in the back of the S.U.V.

More likely a scooter,
given the size.

The killer kills,
loads the body and his scooter -

- Or moped.
- Drives to the Thames.

Dumps the car, body and all, in the river
and rides his scooter home.

Through the teeming
streets of London.

So you're an honest-to-God
real butler?

My family has served
His Grace's family for eight generations.

Yeah, well, a real butler
would offer to take my hat.

- A real gentleman would be wearing a hat.
- Whoa!

- Look at this guy!
- Uh, yes, sir.

It dates to -
Please don't touch that, Agent Booth.

Late 1490s or early 1500s.
German design?

His Grace's ancestors fought
for Henry VIII in France.

Geez! Look at the size of this.
That's one large cup.

Probably to scare the sissy French.

Actually, Henry VIII started the trend of
large codpieces because he had syphilis...

so his penis was extremely sensitive
to anything touching it.

His Grace favors the "intimidate the enemy"
version, should the topic arise.

His Grace, Her Ladyship and Lord Henry
will meet you in the morning room.

Two weeks, and I'd heard
nothing from Portia.

I knew it would turn out
to be something terrible.

You kept your relationship
with Portia Frampton a secret.

It didn't mean I didn't love her.

Where we come from,
that's exactly what it means.

You're quite certain this American
has the right to pose these questions?

Tell you what. You call Scotland Yard...

and the answer is
always gonna be yes.

So, Portia ever come to visit
this, uh, palace?

- This house? No.
- Why?

You were in love with her,
right, Lord?

Well, it's my understanding
that the class system in England...

though very much relaxed
since the Second World War...

still exists at
the highest levels of society.

- That's you, right?
- One prefers not to make such an assertion.

How long did you and Portia Frampton
carry on a sexual relationship?

Did I ever say
I was sleeping with her?

Of course you had sex
with her, Harry.

And I'm sure she rather enjoyed it.

You're a well-formed, athletic boy.

Did you offer refreshments?

I had no intention of encouraging them
to stay longer, Mother.

Tea, please.

Harry kept his relationship
with the Frampton girl secret...

because her father
is a rapacious crook...

who uses intimidation and bribery
to get what he wants.

So it had nothing to do with this?

- They've brought that wretched rag into the house.
- I was there.

It was the afternoon before
Portia's birthday party.

- So you saw the photographer?
- Of course not. I'd have thrashed him.

The lord was gonna go all medieval.

Portia's party was lovely.
She left before I awoke the next morning.

It's the last time I saw her.

- But you did hear from her.
- Right, because...

cell phone records indicate
that you talked that morning.

It was a very personal conversation.

Did you discuss her pregnancy?

I got it. I'll tell you what.
There was an argument.

- Portia wanted to keep the baby. You didn't.
- I assure you...

I had absolutely no idea that -

Could he possibly be suggesting
that pregnancy is a motive for murder?

Nonsense. Arrangements
would have been made.

And you're positive
that you're the father?

- Harry.
- Look at that.

I'm being intimidated by royalty.

If you must know,
Portia broke up with me.

She said there was
to be no discussion.

Ah. There you go. Motive for murder...

no matter what country we're in.

Mmm!

- What is this?
- It's Assam black tea.

Very strong.
Call it the upper-class version...

- of a "cup o' joe."
- Wow!

Cheers.

I've been looking
at those tabloid photos of the victim.

Now, in a telephoto shot,
most of the frame is blurry.

Only the main subject is in focus.

What is this place on the weekends?
A dungeon?

You see here? These pixels look like
they've been altered to appear fuzzy.

So it wasn't really
a telephoto lens?

- You light it with torches, right?
- No, it was a telephoto lens.

But it's been doctored to look as though
it's over 500 millimeters...

when I put it at more like 80.

Why would anyone do that?

- See that white sliver?
- Do you mean the white blob?

It's a reflection of light...

almost as though the photographer
was behind glass.

And... in Portia's eyes -
Do you see that?

No.

It's a reflection of a house.

Do you see where I'm going?

No.

- Someone took the picture inside the house.
- With an 80-millimeter lens.

Sweetie, my ex-husband is here
with the divorce papers.

So I'll fill you in
when you get back.

Lovely mix of personal and professional
you people seem to manage.

Harry could have taken
the photograph.

Yes, that's certainly a possibility.

But Harry had no motive
to take the photo.

We're most likely searching for a disgruntled
servant who was looking to cash in.

Mmm.

I apologize for
eating without you...

but apparently to hold the table,
you have to order.

I'm not here for food. I'm here
to get you to sign the divorce papers.

Hmm.

In my place, would you do that?

I'm not in your place.

I've been searching
for Angela for five years.

I know. I know.
Our private investigator told us everything.

You built Angela a home
with your bare hands...

while simultaneously smuggling medicine
to children in Cuba...

and supporting an orphanage.

- You're a saint. I get it.
- If you believe that to be true...

then you should want
what is best for Angela.

I do. And guess what?
It's me.

Why are you better than me?

Obviously, I'm not.

- But I do love her more than you.
- You cannot possibly know that.

And yet, I do.

We are at an impasse.

You have no sense of dignity.

Yeah, I'd give up my life for Angela.
So what's a little dignity?

- She kissed me, you know.
- On the cheek, or -

- What's going on?
- Oh, man.

He says you kissed him.

- I did.
- Whoa!

- It was a good-bye kiss.
- There's nothing you can do.

- You must accept -
- Hodgins!

- Here. Can- Can you take this, please?
- Oh!

Whoa!

Nice, Grayson!

Angela.

We've been working
on identifying the photographer...

who took the tabloid picture
of Portia.

Surely, identifying her murderer
is more important.

You see, paparazzi,
they follow people.

So maybe he saw something.
I don't know, maybe the actual killer.

The photo was taken
from a bedroom in Portia's home.

So you're suggesting the help
let a paparazzo into the house?

Actually, the help told Inspector Pritchard
that you were in the room.

Look, maybe you wanna tell us
why you did it before Roger gets here.

Roger and I have set
five wedding dates over the years.

And each time,
Portia found a way to make him postpone.

- She had her father wrapped around her little finger.
- So you killed her?

Don't be ridiculous!
I merely wanted Roger to regard Portia...

as a sexually mature adult with her
own agenda instead of as an innocent child.

Sorry I'm late.
Court went rather longer than expected.

- Heather, I trust you've said nothing.
- Too late.

- Too late why?
- Your girlfriend...

sent the naked picture
of your daughter to the tabloids...

so you'd stop thinking that
she was perfect and finally get married.

What Americans lack in subtlety,
they make up with clarity.

Roger, I'm so sorry.

Why the hell would you do that?

Please, believe me, I would
never do anything to harm Portia.

I simply made a terrible mistake.

Roger!
Oh, Roger!

I trust this interview is over?

Actually, I just have one more question.
Who the hell would wanna wear this?

It's so nice to see you relaxing, enjoying
some good British beer, Agent Booth.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

I'll tell you what.
I'd like to see that open.

Really?

- Why?
- Luck.

You'd have to be ridiculously lucky
to see something like that, wouldn't you?

That's my point.

Well, you did get
a little lucky today.

Yeah?

That's a Walther PPK.
It's a James Bond gun.

Booth.
Seeley Booth.

No. That's terrible.

Thanks, Pritch.

But please just remember, though...

that if you do use it,
I'm the one they'll hang.

Hey, I'm a good shot.

Oh.

Oh. It's the American squints.

You'll love these people.
Booth. Seeley Booth.

Hey, uh, the paper you sent me-

it turns out to be a letter
to Portia Frampton from her mother.

A keepsake from her childhood perhaps?

- It's dated this year.
- What does the letter say?

The entire body of
the letter is indecipherable.

The date and the salutation
and the signature are clear though.

Thanks, Ange.

So Portia Frampton's mother
is still alive?

That raises
a whole set of questions.

Visible on the L2 is an area of radiolucency.

- Can't see a damned thing.
- Give us a moment, Clark.

- We found a few more bone fragments today, Dr. Wexler.
- Good. How old?

No more than a hundred years.

To prevent Frampton from building
his beloved skyscrapers on this site...

we need to find something from
the Bronze Age or older.

There is evidence of reabsorption
of the surrounding bone.

Ah, here. Yes, I see.
Very interesting.

Cyril, you're being impertinent.
Please stop speaking.

- Could the anomaly be a hemangioblastoma?
- Okay, off you go.

And don't come back until you find at least
one Bronze Age, ossified funny bone.

Have Cam do a histology, Clark.

Will do, Dr. Brennan.

- So, what now?
- Well...

I thought quick drink, back to yours
for some sex and then out for a late supper.

Oh -

I'm inclined to accept.

- Well, I'm ever so pleased.
- But Booth says I shouldn't trust you.

- And why is that?
- Well, he says you like to rack 'em up.

Rack 'em up?
How vulgar.

- Booth is very good at reading people.
- Hmm.

Well, in that case,
how about we start with the supper...

and then let the chips fall
where they may?

That would be
an acceptable compromise.

I checked out the skull fragments
for microscopic traces.

- How shiny and pretty. What is it?
- Mother-of-pearl.

Have you talked to Angela today?

Yes. Are you saying our victim
was attacked by an abalone?

- How mad is she?
- Mad, mad, mad.

I thought women secretly liked it
when we fought over them.

"Women" is an unacceptable
generalization.

You should look over your other shoulder.

Bones, I've been driving
since I was 12, okay?

Would it make you less agitated if I told you
I didn't sleep with Dr. Wexler last night?

I'm not agitated, okay? I'm agitated
because of driving this little car. That's all.

Look, Wexler is just -

I'm not agitated because of
you and Dr. Wexler.

Wexler's just another guy looking
for a one-night stand. That's-Whoa!

- So?
- So? You gotta take it seriously.

Seriously? You mean you've never
laughed during sex? Because I do.

- Whoa! Do you see that lorry?
- I see that lorry.

- It's a truck. We're American,
and that is a truck.

- Bugger off!
- I laugh during sex. It's-

It's not that kind of serious.

Well, I think Dr. Wexler
is serious about having sex with me.

- Okay, news bulletin for you.
- Very interested.

Bones, there's not a guy in this country
who wouldn't wanna have sex with you.

- You'd probably have gay men -
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy.

- Are you being nice about me
or awful about British men?

Wexler is not special.
You are.

Brennan.

Am I interrupting anything?

Uh, I'm just helping Booth drive.

Booth shouldn't be behind the wheel.
He isn't adaptable.

I'm Mr. Adaptable, okay?
The mirror is the size of a thumbnail.

Well, what do you expect when
you rent a car the size of your thumb?

I don't think there's enough fetal tissue
to get a D.N.A. reading, but -

Cam, could we just be quiet
until I get into the flow of traffic here?

Get out of the way, you wanker!

You think I'm special?

Of course I think that
you're special. Yes!

Thank you. I will take
your romantic advice under advisement.

- Now you're too far to the left.
- Oh -

- You're gonna hit the curb!
- We're good.

Yeah, unless we get a flat tire.

- No, we're good.
- If I could speak again?

I had better luck with the tumor.

Our victim suffered from
Von Hippel-Lindau disease.

- We got a flat tire.
- How'd that happen?

But there wasn't
any evidence of V.H.I...

in either the mother's medical records
or the autopsy report.

But it's hereditary,
so her father must have it.

Roger Frampton worked for the NHL?

He-He may have V.H.L. disease.

What if he doesn't have it?

Then Roger Frampton is not
Portia Frampton's biological father.

Oh, God.

Great. That's just great!
I hate this car!

My wife is not alive.

Your daughter was carrying a letter
from her mother when she died.

It was dated Portia's 21st birthday.

That's impossible.
Tell your lab boys they got it wrong.

Roger, the lab is, in fact, correct.

Portia was indeed carrying a letter
from Sarah dated her 21st birthday.

Portia and I met at a caf� in Knightsbridge
the day after her party.

- I gave her the letter personally.
- I think you'll find...

Sarah knew she was dying
and entrusted Mr. Curry with letters...

which he delivered on
Portia's important birthdays.

- How do you know?
- It's exactly what I'd have done...

if I were dying and leaving
behind a young daughter.

It's all very touching, but it still
makes wig-wearing Willy here...

- the last person who saw Portia alive.
- For God's sake.

- Now I'm a suspect?
- You should've told me, William.

You're not the only person who
engages me for my discretion, Roger.

- What did the letter say?
- I'm sure I couldn't possibly tell you.

Uh, Mr. Frampton,
how is your health?

What the hell does that got
to do with anything?

Any nerve pain?
Dizziness? Headaches?

No. I'm healthy as an ox.

Are you aware that Portia is not
your biological daughter?

Perhaps I should conduct
the rest of this interview.

Angela-

Here we go.

Angela, men are idiots.
Seriously.

Just to be clear,
are you a man or a boy...

for the purposes of this conversation?

When I was 10, the kid next door
had a Turtle Party Wagon.

It's an accessory for the
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures.

Mmm.

It's a toy? No?

Anyway, I loved that Party Wagon.

I wanted that Party Wagon.

So I climbed the tree outside his
bedroom window. But the tree had a fungus.

And his dad was too cheap
to hire an arborist...

so, unbeknownst to me,
some of the branches were dead.

Lucky for you I, uh- I enjoy
a convoluted story with my hot beverage.

I'm in the hospital -
broken arm, concussion -

and the kid
with the Party Wagon comes in.

I confess everything.
You know what he says?

"I would have given it to you."

Ah. He had a little
gay crush on you.

- He did?
- Mm-hmm.

Oh, man, that explains a lot.

But I'm guessing that
you have a different point to the story...

like maybe I'm the Party Wagon.

No. You're the gay neighbor boy.

Your love is the Party Wagon. Grayson
is the tree. I'm Hodgins. Think about it.

Which brings us back to the point
that all men are idiots.

See how I worked that?

It's because I'm so good.

Uh, uh-huh.

The treads in the victim's tires
were mostly full of river silt.

But I did find a few more materials.

Crushed Scleractinian coral.

- Possibly from Australia.
- She was killed in Australia?

No, it's used as a surface
for private roadways in England.

- How does that help us?
- Well, it's been illegal to harvest this stuff for years.

So the roadway in question
is fairly old.

And even when this stuff
was available...

- It was incredibly expensive.
- And the organic material?

Yeah.

Deciduous pinnate leaflets -
medium pink petals.

It's a Rosa damascena.
An antique rose bush.

Hey, Hodgins?

Yeah, hey.
Hi, Angela.

Fine, I'll just pass this along to Booth
and Dr. Brennan in England.

You guys go ahead and -

Security cameras, people.

The building's filled
with security cameras.

I can't have you
punching my ex-husbands.

Deal, so long as you don't kiss
your ex-husbands...

for longer than three seconds
on the lips.

Deal. Look.

It's simple.
My heart isn't yours to claim.

- It's mine to give away.
- I get that.

I mean, what you're saying,
not your heart.

Oh, idiot.
You do get my heart.

Because you're giving it to me.

At last, a glimmer of understanding.

- Wow. That is so... flaky and new age...
- Yeah.

and wonderful.

Okay, okay.
I get it.

The universe speaks.
I hear it.

The guy said he was gonna
fix the flat tire.

- What's it doing up on the truck?
- Crushed coral and rose petals?

Hodgins found coral and roses
in Portia Frampton's tires.

Who takes a car with a flat tire
and puts it up on a truck?

You fix it. That's what you do.
If there was a spare tire, I'd have fixed it.

Probably you cracked an axle or something.
Thanks, Cam. That was very useful.

All right, great.
Now I gotta call Agent Pritchard.

I'm gonna have to ask her for a ride.

England is not good for my personal dignity.

All because of a... flat tire.
Wait. Whoa!

- Don't smell that. You don't know where that's been.
- Yes, I do.

This is crushed coral,
and it smells like roses.

Where did we pick up crushed coral?

The private road and driveway
at the Bonham estate.

Portia Frampton drove to
the Bonham estate just before she died.

And the royals said
she never came to the house.

They lied.

You honestly believe
the Duke of Innesford...

is Portia Frampton's biological father?

Both he and his mother
show symptoms of V.H.L. disease.

Well, we're standing on coral,
those are rose bushes...

and that is a scooter that could fit
very nicely into the back of an S.U.V.

That's great. Okay.
What's taking our backup so long?

- I didn't request backup.
- Well, great.

In that case -

I want a gun. I'm a very good shot,
and I've killed before.

- It didn't bother me as much as I thought.
- It bothered you a little.

Yes, but not as much as I thought.

- If there's gonna be gunplay, I'll wait in the car.
- Nonsense.

- There won't be any gunplay.
- Why not?

We won't need guns because
we have the letter from Portia's mother.

- We don't know what it says.
- Ah. But they don't know that.

- Good one, Pritch.
- What did you just call her?

Pritch, Ian. He called me Pritch.
Short for Pritchard.

Will you please put
that weapon away?

Fine.
It just feels wrong.

I have a letter addressed
to Portia from her mother.

- Portia's mother died 14 years ago.
- She wrote it on her deathbed.

On her deathbed?
Well, you know what this means.

- Big doings.
- Big doings!

So I'm gonna have Dr. Brennan...

- Read it out loud.
- What?

My dearest daughter, Portia-

Did we mention it's dated
Portia Frampton's 21st birthday?

Start at the beginning, Bones.

- My dearest daughter, Portia -
- Skip to the part about her father.

Wait a moment, please.

- Would you leave us, Harry?
- Why?

- What's happening, Gerard?
- Please trust me.

This is not the way for Harry
to discover certain harsh truths.

Please, Harry.
A little trust.

That must be one hell of a letter.

You must believe me when I tell you I had no idea
of this before Portia read the letter to me.

You met with Portia here?

What did it say?

It says that the duke was
Portia's biological father.

How remarkably unsavory.

You couldn't possibly think
that Gerard killed Portia to keep it a secret?

Why not?

Portia asked me if I were her father.

I admitted that
it was more than possible.

Mother-of-pearl.
This is very possibly the murder weapon.

Isn't this the part where
we call for legal counsel?

I did not kill Portia Frampton, Mother.
Thank you for your faith.

I believe I'm going to have to request you to
accompany me to Scotland Yard, Your Grace.

- They request?
- It's a polite country.

That will not be necessary.

- It was I.
- Jamison?

- The butler?
- You ordered your butler to kill Portia Frampton?

The duke had absolutely
nothing to do with it.

If Jamison confesses...

Harry need never know
that Portia was his sister.

- We'll provide you with the finest representation.
- Thank you, ma'am.

Wow.

Come on. You mean to tell me that neither
one of you get the weirdness of this?

All right, the butler did it.
It was the butler.

Inspector Pritchard will be hours
in the interrogation room with him.

But the fact is we'll never
really know for certain.

You mean he might just be
protecting the duke?

It's utterly conceivable, yes.

Well, I thought I might try and entice you
back to Oxford with me tonight.

You know, I do have
a gun in England...

and I really have been
dying to use it.

I'll handle this.

You know, it's a James Bond gun.

It's a Walther PPK, by the way.

Ian, I think you're a lot of fun.

Oh, hell's bells in buckets.
I think I know where this is going.

It would upset Booth
if I slept with you.

You see, rationally speaking, if you were
to have someone operate on your brain...

you would want a surgeon who's done
the procedure many hundreds of times.

You know, someone who's absolutely
at the top of their game.

I don't really see why sex
should be any different.

- Rationally speaking, you're absolutely right.
- Good.

Then we're settled.
Off we go.

Look out for the bridge opening.
They say it's good luck.

That should keep him
occupied for hours.

Common sense says
you don't offend your partner...

- for an hour of fun.
- An hour?

What? One hour?
You underestimate me, Dr. Brennan.

Oh, this is absolutely
the dregs, isn't it?

I'll call you again before you leave.

Who knows? You could be
in a more rational frame of mind.

# What is there missing from me #

# That I see in you #

# What can I say #

# What can I do #

Why are you looking at me like that? I'm just
here to help you pick out a guy, you know?

Never mind.
I'm just here...

- To bring a little luck.
- I don't believe in luck.

What do you mean, you don't
believe in luck? Okay, well...

how do you explain when
good things happen out of nowhere?

Define "good things."

You know, good things. Money in the bank.

- Doris Day parking.
- What's Doris Day parking?

A big piece of the pie.
That's good luck.

I call that a solipsistic perceptual response
to the random nature of the universe.

Tomato, potato- Call it what you want.
You know what? It's still luck.

You are lucky I understand you
when you say things that make no sense.

See? You just agreed with me
that it was luck.

- You just agreed right there, so I'll take that.
- I did not agree -

# You gotta let go
of the pictures we took #

# Together and apart
we were in thought #

# As everything's dancing around #

# Just trying to stay on the ground #

Clark. Some lunch?

I was told to catalog all unidentified
remains while Dr. Brennan was away.

And you were told
to do this without eating?

Dr. Brennan was quite adamant
they all be done before her return.

Come on, Clark. The divorce papers
are signed and the wedding is on again...

and we are all going to celebrate.

I'm sure he feels that
your invitation is a polite...

but insincere attempt
not to exclude him.

We are just trying to spread
the sunshine here, Clark.

I just wanted to say good-bye, Angela.
I'm off to the airport.

Oh. Thanks.
That's nice.

And thanks for the divorce.
I really appreciate it.

Your happiness is all that matters to me.

And if in a day, a week or a year...

you want me back in your life,
I'll be there.

Right. Well, we've got your number,
so have a good trip.

Cherish her.

Done.

Isn't this all extremely awkward?

- That's sad.
- It's actually a display of conflicting emotions...

what Reich called
the "battle for orgastic potency", which-

- Maybe later.
- Sure.

- Would you like a ride to the airport?
- That would be very kind.

- Thanks, Cam.
- Sure.

Honestly, guys, I don't have
to be included in everything.

So Wexler still hasn't
called you, huh?

Ian is the top forensic
anthropologist in England.

- He's a very busy man, Booth.
- Busy trying to get you into bed for the past two weeks.

The least he can do is call-We're gonna
need another cab just for all your stuff.

I was given lots of presents
by the students at Oxford.

No, no, no, no, no!
Don't touch that one.

- Why? What is it?
- Why?

Because your students gave you your gifts,
and the cops at Scotland Yard...

gave me a little something-something
for their appreciation.

- Huh?
- What is that?

- It's a bobblehead bobby.
- That's all you got?

Well, it's a real nice one.
Look. Oh.

What is this now,
the queen's jewels?

- The bellman will help.
- No, he's better dressed than I've ever been.

He'll get all dirty. I gotta tell you.
You know what?

There's no rule saying
you can't call him.

Although I gotta tell you,
a guy who doesn't wanna talk to you...

just because you decide not to have sex
with him, he can't be that great.

- In bed?
- No. A great guy.

- Because I think Ian would be great in bed.
- Okay, next.

Hey, pal, how about a little help?
I gotta get to the airport. Come on.

I'm sorry they canceled your flight.

- I'm not.
- Neither am I.

I was just trying to be polite.

- You know, it's getting late.
- Mmm.

Let me order you some breakfast
before you go to work.

Earth-shattering sex and breakfast?

- I can die a happy woman.
- Mmm.

You know, I'm glad to be heading home...

but I think America dropped too much
of the English stuff back in 1776.

- Like what?
- You know, like, uh, royalty.

Meaningless title. No real power.

- What, you never wanted to be a princess when you were a kid?
- No.

Even now- like, a castle, the moats.
knights in shining armor.

You know what? I risk my life
for the United States government every day.

I wonder if I can get Congress...

to pass something like knighthood.

"Sir Seeley Booth."
It just sounds right. Booth.

I get my worth from my intelligence
and accomplishments.

From actual achievement.
I don't need a title.

What-What's wrong?

It's Dr. Wexler.

Remodeling and analysis
of the marrow indicates...

the subject lived in or around
the coast of North Carolina.

- We should look at Jamaica.
- No evidence suggests the Caribbean.

- For our wedding.
- Right.

What was I thinking?
Oh, I was focusing on my work.

You'll be in love
one day too, Clark.

Yes, but today I am alone
and happily dating multiple women...

so I can concentrate on my work
and not get fired.

I also know this little island
off the coast of Maine.

- Of course you do.
- Sorry I'm late. What did I miss?

We're deciding between
Maine and Jamaica for the wedding.

- Did Angela's ex get off okay?
- Whoa! Sorry?

- You took him to the airport?
- Oh. "Off." Of course.

Yes, he's off and gone.

- All gone.
- Great.

- Thank you for doing that.
- Anytime.

Either Maine or Jamaica.
You can't really go wrong.

I should- Bye.

Going to pack it up now, sir.

- Ian said you were the best.
- What happened?

Why are you giving him the gun?
We're leaving.

I think Inspector Pritchard
is asking us to stay, Bones.

You want me to look at some remains?

You think they're Ian's?

It's impossible with
Scotland Yard all over the place.

Are you ready for this?

This is Ian Wexler's flat.
This is Ian Wexler's bed.

Wow.

Markers are consistent
with Ian's build and age.

Of course, I'll need access to a lab
to make a definitive conclusion.

I'm sorry, Bones. Pritchard, I can only imagine
how difficult this is, losing a partner.

C.I.D. is saying that there appears
to have been a gas explosion.

- Looks like, uh, he was drinking.
- He did enjoy a glass or two.

Bones.
Cigarette?

Did Ian smoke?

Not that I'm aware of.

It looks as though he put
the kettle on and lit a cigarette.

The pilot goes out, there's a gas leak,
and whoosh, the place goes up.

No water in the kettle.

Water on the boil does tend
to evaporate, Agent Booth.

Look, we don't suspect foul play.

We just want Dr. Brennan
to give us a definitive identification.

Water doesn't evaporate
if the stove wasn't lit.

Oh, perhaps even British resolve
takes a knock...

when one loses one's partner.

There is evidence of trauma
to the frontal bone.

That's gonna happen when the ceiling
collapses on you, Bones.

No, this was before the fire.

This was not an accident, Inspector.

You wanted to see me?
Oh, man, that is cool.

- Not why you're here, Dr. Sweets.
- Sure.

But it's amazing that all of our
hopes and desires and fantasies...

pain and pleasure all reside
in three pounds of tissue.

Yeah, great. Well, some part of this
little devil made me sleep with Angela's ex.

- You slept with Angela's ex?
- Shh! A little discretion, please?

- I might say the same to you.
- It just happened.

His flight was canceled, I was parked
at the airport hotel, he checked in...

and I figured I'd see
what all the fuss was about.

- And was there fuss?
- Yes. Well-deserved fuss.

- Why exactly?
- You're here as a shrink, Dr. Sweets.

- Not as a guest on Loveline.
- Yes. Fine. Sorry.

Should I tell Angela? We're friends, and
I don't want her to find out some other way.

'Cause then it'll seem like I'm hiding it.

- Which you'd like to do because you're feeling guilty.
- Yes.

- Good. Keep going.
- But he's gone now.

- Almost.
- Almost?

- There aren't as many flights to Fiji as you'd think.
- So it might come up again.

Oh, yes. I'm seeing him again tonight.

- I didn't mean like that.
- Neither did I.

Right. Okay.

Well, uh, it's understandable for you
to feel some guilt and anxiety.

- Which, by the way, is centered here.
- Dr. Sweets.

Right. Um, you feel you have
no right to pleasure...

because it comes at the expense
of your friends.

Yes. You're good.

But he's leaving soon, so I could say nothing
and hope it all goes away.

But you'd still have to carry that anxiety
every time you saw Angela.

Angela is open-minded by nature.
She's happy with Hodgins.

- I think clearing the air would be good for both of you.
- Right.

- Of course. Thank you.
- Hmm.

Can I touch the brain
just once as a reward?

Just once.

- It's squishy.
- Hey.

I just got off the phone
with Brennan.

Her friend Wexler's
been killed in a fire.

Scotland Yard wants her to help
in the investigation.

They're sending the remains
to Wexler's lab at Oxford.

Brennan's gonna use the video link and the Web
to send us crime scene photos and X-rays -

- Whatever we need to help.
- I'll tell Hodgins and Clark.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

We have not yet confirmed
beyond a shadow of a doubt...

that the human remains found
in Dr. Ian Wexler's flat -

But, um, there's always a chance-

You see, in cases like this, the -

My preliminary findings are that
the remains in question...

are those of Ian Wexler.

I am confident that this suspicion
will be confirmed later today.

Cause of death has not been determined,
but we have not ruled out foul play.

Many of you were close,
very close, to Dr. Wexler.

We'd appreciate any information you can provide.

Thank you.

I think we should talk
to Sid and Nancy first.

A reminder, Agent Booth.
There is a proper chain of command.

I'm the lead on this investigation.

Why are you talking to him like that?
You asked us to stay.

I feel it's important to be clear.

- You gave him a gun and everything.
- Bones, it's okay.

Understand, Pritch, we're just here to help.
Whatever you need.

Thank you.

- We saw Dr. Wexler night before last.
He seemed fine.

- He was going out- - He was going out
for a drink. Frampton was driving him mad.

- Why?
- He was trying to shut down the dig.

- So he could build one of his condo developments on it.
- What's to become of the dig now?

The bloody dig can wait, Cyril.
Dr. Wexler is dead.

Dr. Wexler would want the job finished.
You know it's true.

We're gonna have to talk
to the two of you again...

after Dr. Brennan confirms
the cause of death.

Legally, the remains have to stay here,
but we've uploaded all the X-rays.

I'll have casts of the bones made and
ship them to you as they are finished.

The fire substantially occludes
what we can glean from these images.

- Can you focus on his feet?
- Sure.

I see soil and a singed sock.

Can I have any direct access
to particulates?

As soon as Inspector Pritchard
gets the okay from Scotland Yard.

- How you doin', sweetie?
- I'm focused on finding out what happened to Ian.

The X-rays are starting to arrive.

I can see the depression fracture
you mentioned on the frontal bone.

Looks like it was made by a small object,
like a ball-peen hammer.

- Was there enough tissue for a tox screen?
- It's being run now.

- We'll e-mail you the results.
- What is that on the top of his left femur?

Some kind of plastic which
may have been in his pocket.

Send me some high-res photos.
I'll see if I can speed things along.

- Thanks. Call if you find anything.
- Hey, Brennan, wait.

Grayson signed the divorce papers,
so the wedding is on again.

Congratulations.
Oh, is that bad?

To congratulate someone on a divorce?
Hard to believe it's over, right?

Yeah, hard to believe. Well, we'll talk soon.

Dr. Temperance Brennan
resuming analysis.

The material fused into
the anterior ventral femur...

appears to be plastic,
partially melted.

Booth.

- I found something.
- What is it?

Where would Ian get
a poker chip marked H.G.C?

Oh, my God. Two nights ago,
Dr. Wexler was buying drinks for his friends...

- And playing the tables as if he hadn't a care in the world.
- Was he with a woman?

No, this is a gentleman's club,
Agent Booth.

I didn't see a stage or a pole
or dancers or anything like that.

No, an English gentlemen's club
is for actual English gentlemen.

- How did Dr. Wexler strike you?
- Uh, flush.

- What's that mean?
- I believe you'd say "ro-rolling in dough"?

- Huh.
- That's right. He, uh- He paid off his tab.

- How much did he owe?
- We're getting into ticklish areas of confidentiality now.

This is a gentlemen's club, after all.

Scotland Yard will guarantee
the F.B.I.'s discretion.

- Isn't that right, Agent Booth?
- Hmm? Yeah, right.

Over �5,000.
He paid it off in cash.

- Where'd he get that kind of money?
- I'm sure I have no idea.

- Please?
- Look, I, um...

took this, you might say,
as a precaution...

even though Dr. Wexler told us that he
knew the gentlemen and everything was fine.

This was taken from
the security camera.

Nice tattoo.

And the guy with the tattoo
is taking him away.

If I thought they were going to kill him,
then I'd have done something.

Don't beat yourself up, pal. You know,
I'm sure you did the best you could.

Tox screen showed he had quite a night...

with his friends
Mr. Scotch and Mr. Merlot.

Blood alcohol level was. 18.

No drugs, recreational or otherwise.

And no evidence of nicotine.

So what was the cigarette
doing in his hand?

Put there to justify the explosion,
I would imagine.

What have you found, Mr. Edison?

Well, if the casts are accurate...

new bone growth formed a craggy
surface on the scapulas...

- And both the left and right lateral epicondyles.
- Meaning?

The victim had bursitis caused
by strenuous repetitive motion.

The only time I've seen this
was on an autopsy of a sculler.

- What is that? Like a fish?
- A sculler is someone who crews on a rowing team.

I also examined the fracture
to his frontal bone.

- It was the result of a head butt.
- Ouch.

- I concur. I'll send your findings to Dr. Brennan.
- Thank you.

What are you working on, Angela?

Blowing up all the photos of the remains
for Clark and Hodgins.

- Trying not to lose quality.
- Excellent.

Oh, one other thing.
I slept with your husband- ex-husband.

- What?
- Good-bye.

Don't leave, Mr. Edison.
I need a witness.

I'm sure you can find somebody
who's been here longer than I have.

- Are you one of us or not?
- No, I'm not one of us.

Well, you'll do anyway.
Just -

Angela, I slept with him,
and I feel really weird about it.

Wai-How? Did- I mean, when?

- Oh, God.
- Grayson's flight was canceled, and one thing led to another.

He's very attractive, so...
we spent the night together.

I'm sorry.

It's okay.

Really?

Of course. Why not?

We're divorced, so -

I mean, I got what I wanted from him,
so now I guess you did too.

Well, yeah.

Can I go now, please?

- Angela, I-You are an amazing person.
- Why are you amazing now?

I slept with Grayson,
and Angela's okay with it.

Of course.

Why should I care?
I'm gonna marry you.

Well, I see no holes in your logic.

And he'll be gone in a day.

He's still here?
Wow, that... must've gone well.

- Is that something for me?
- Uh, yeah.

It's preliminary results
of particulate and bug analysis.

Now, I found microphytobenthos algae,
epipsammic and epipelic diatoms...

as well as a Chironomus riparius,
or midge fly...

all of which were on
the clothing shreds they sent me.

Well, you're excited,
so it must mean something.

The levels and sediment on the algae indicate
that the victim was near Henley-on-Thames...

within 24 hours of his death.

The Henley Royal Regatta
takes place there-rowing.

Why are you doing this
with me and not Inspector Pritchard?

Oh, come on, Bones.
You and me, we're the real deal.

Look, she's having a tough time with this.
I would, too, if you were killed.

You're sentimental that way.

Excuse me. The guy at
the main boathouse told me...

that Dr. Wexler was
a teammate of you blokes.

- Blokes?
- Yeah, you know. Kinda feelin' at home.

F.B.I. Special Agent Booth.
I have a few questions -

- Hey, I'm talkin' here.
- I think you're a bit lost, mate.

You looking for America?
Head for the coast, swim across the big pond.

You'll find a bunch of Yanks
you can ask whatever you want. All right?

Is that right? Excuse me, but -

- Oh!
- We're working with Scotland Yard.

I'm Dr. Brennan.
Ian was a friend of mine.

God, the man's got a head
like a boulder.

You're the American bird
Wexler was talking about, aren't you?

I'm surprised that lady cop of his
isn't looking out for him.

Yeah, the two of them seemed,
uh, more than colleagues.

Inspector Pritchard and Dr. Wexler
had a sexual relationship?

Listen, love, Ian isn't exactly the faithful type,
so if he's promised you something-

He's dead.
He was murdered.

- No.
- What?

We had a race this afternoon.
I thought we'd be seeing him.

That's a pretty distinctive tattoo
you got there.

Any chance you were at
the Highgate Club night before last?

Wait. You think we killed Wex?

- You dragged him out of the club, didn't you?
- This is bollocks!

We had a race. We don't sober Wex
up in time, he's no good to us.

- His timing is discombobulated from the alcohol.
- So you beat him up?

No. We dragged him into a bed in the boathouse
and poured coffee into him in the morning.

His frontal bone was bruised.

His forehead. Maybe you gave him
a good crack like you just gave me?

No! He didn't head-butt Wex. Tell you who did -
a coxswain for the Queen's Light Guards.

- What's his name?
- It's Jasper Ferry.

Booth, he's not gonna talk to you.
It's a tradition.

I know that, Bones,
but I think I almost got him.

There's a little sweat
coming off the side of his face.

If you interfere
with one of the queen's guards...

I'm afraid I shall have
to arrest you, Agent Booth.

Simmer down.
I'm not doing anything wrong here.

- I'm just waiting for Lieutenant Ferry to go off duty.
- He did not murder Ian.

- How you know that?
- My colleagues at the Jeffersonian...

have discovered some
very compelling evidence.

I imagine that you learned that two of
Wexler's teammates from Henley-on-Thames...

abducted him from the club
in order to sober him up before a race.

Then they told you about
his argument and subsequent fight...

with Lieutenant Jasper Ferry here which
Wexler lost after a well-deserved head-butt.

Why is everybody head-butting everybody around
here? What's wrong with a sock to the jaw?

Well deserved?
Why well deserved?

Ian was shagging Lieutenant Ferry's sister.

Oh. How'd you figure that out?

A revolutionary technique which consists
of asking a series of questions...

to a murder victim's friends.

Nonetheless, I'm terribly impressed
that your scientists can deduce...

almost as much
from a few particulates.

Almost as much.

Almost as much?

Look, I'm sorry about your sister.

I really have to thank you.
That was excellent advice.

You're welcome.
It's always best to be honest.

Good. Then I can tell you
it was tough to take you seriously at first.

You don't even look old enough
to drive, so I thought...

- "How could you possibly have any valid insights?"
- I have two doctorates.

I know, but doctorates
don't teach you about sexual matters.

- And being so young, I -
- I get it, Dr. Saroyan.

- I'm just -
- Being honest, I know.

I'm just very grateful to you,
Dr. Sweets. That's all.

Dr. Hodgins, Scotland Yard was interested
in those other particulates you'd found...

that did not indicate Henley.

Okay, just- Okay.

Okay. And, Angela, I was wondering when
you might finish enhancing those photos.

- Clark needs 'em.
- You'll have them when they're done.

What do you think we're doing?
Shirking our responsibility or something?

You know, we've been doing an excellent
job around here even before you showed up...

so regulate yourself, okay?

I think maybe there's still
a few unresolved issues.

We're still questioning the female students.

It seems that
they're all accusing each other -

you know, each one thinking
they were special to Ian.

Hmm. Is that what you think too?

You've been asking questions
of your own, I see.

Apparently you were
sleeping with Dr. Wexler.

Don't you think that was something
you should have told us, Inspector?

Oh, please.

I'm British first, a cop second and a woman third.
It's a miracle it ever came to light.

- For how long?
- Irrelevant.

What you really want to know is if sharing Ian
with other women made me want to kill him.

- Did it?
- All those pretty young students?

The thing that made Ian so very,
very good in bed was all that practice.

Sorry. Was that indiscreet? I thought
Americans were all brash and forthright.

- I thought Brits were frustrated
sexually and repressed.

- Brennan.
- We found something. You busy?

- No, no, this is a fine time.
- Assuming the casts are accurate...

I've isolated a stab wound that originates
between the sixth and seventh thoracic vertebrae.

- Which would have pierced the lung and heart.
- Most definitely.

- That's a very deep wound.
- Bones, what is it?

Ian was stabbed to death.

- A- And the weapon?
- Don't know.

- Maybe they found something at the scene.
- Nice work, Clark. Thanks.

Did you find any weapon at Ian's apartment
that could have been used to stab him?

No. And I was there the whole time.

You're doubting me.

Yes.

Wouldn't you?

Inspector Pritchard? I just wanted -

I am not the jealous sort,
and you are painfully na�ve...

if you think my sex life was limited to Ian,
as I'm sure yours was not.

- I didn't sleep with Ian.
- You didn't?

- No.
- Why not? You obviously fancied each other.

Yes, I noted several
physiological responses to his presence...

which can only be explained
by sexual attraction.

- So why didn't you sleep with him then?
- Because of Booth.

Oh, you know, I suspected that
you two might be more than just partners.

Oh, no. That's incorrect.
Booth advised me not to sleep with Ian...

because Booth didn't want me
to be another notch on Ian's bedpost.

See, I rather saw it
as climbing Everest.

Of course it's been done before,
but the experience is still breathtaking.

You have a strong sexual appetite and
you're not hamstrung by social moralizing.

- I can empathize with that.
- Thank you.

Why didn't you tell us
you had a relationship with Wexler?

Because I thought
I'd be taken off the case.

I mean, if Agent Booth
was murdered...

wouldn't you do everything in your powers
to make sure that you found the killer?

Yes, but I don't sleep with Booth.

Have you withheld
any other information?

Why on earth would I do that?

Because you called a meeting to talk to us,
then Clark called to give us cause of death...

and then we basically
accused you of murder.

So while Booth went to get our car...

I followed you to your car, and we began
discussing mountain climbing and sex with Ian -

Yes, thank you, Dr. Brennan.
I believe I'm up to date now.

Oh!
You are absolutely right.

I did forget to give you this.

Hmm. It's a writ of release
on Frampton's building site.

The site has been certified as having
no historical importance whatsoever.

Signed and dated, Dr. Ian Wexler -
shortly before his death.

This document would be worth
millions of dollars to Frampton.

I suggest that you and Agent Booth
ask Mr. Frampton...

if he forced Ian to sign
that before killing him.

- Okay.
- Oh.

Word to the wise, Dr. Brennan.
I'd encourage you not to forego Everest.

Well, it's too late.
Ian's dead.

Oh, yes, of course.

To whom else would I be referring
other than Ian?

Me, kill Wexler? According to the papers,
the poor bastard died in a fire.

That wasn't cause of death.
He was stabbed.

We know that Dr. Wexler
stood in the way of your latest project.

He was checking the site for historical value.
It's the law.

- Nothing stands in your way.
- Everything stands in my way, Agent Booth.

Environmental groups,
historical societies -

You know, there's even
a radical preservationist group.

They threatened me because
I want to improve the city.

- "Saviours of Antiquity."
- Hmm.

I'd like to build a time machine,
take all these lunatics and send them back...

where there's no
air-conditioning or TV.

They can watch their loved ones die from the flu
and the plague because there's no medicine.

Then see how they like
the good old days.

Right. Um, Dr. Wexler, uh,
signed the writ for you to start building.

Correct?

Of course he did.

He spent two years rooting around
in the dirt, and all he got was dirty.

We couldn't help but notice how recently
Dr. Wexler gave his okay for you to build.

So I guess the only question is,
how forceful did you have to get with him?

I see.

Yeah, so, I was so inspired...

by the sadistic murder
of my daughter...

that I thought that I would
try one myself.

If there's nothing further,
I'm gonna get blind drunk.

So, I found something very odd that
was on the victim-mercury fulminate.

I thought Cam was going to be
sending us all the results.

I'm a grown-up.
I don't need a middleman.

Now, with this amount of mercury,
I'd think he'd been poisoned, but...

- Tox results say otherwise.
- And it didn't come from Henley?

Nope. I also found phyllosilicate
minerals and carbonic acid.

I'm not sure where
they came from either.

Hey, can you have them send me
more samples from the remains...

- And the locations from which they came on the body?
- Of course.

But Scotland Yard says that all requests
have to come through Dr. Saroyan.

Right, 'cause nothing could
possibly happen without her.

- Is everything okay, Hodgins?
- Yep, sure, fine.

I'll have our all-powerful leader
send the request.

- Thank you all for coming.
- Cam said we had to.

- Or lose our jobs.
- For insubordination.

Oh, I was kind of hoping that
you all came of your own volition...

with an eye toward
ameliorating a tense situation.

- Can't you just tell her not to be so bossy?
- I'm your boss.

It's very important to realize that Dr. Saroyan
has done nothing to merit your anger-

- Thank you.
- As a boss.

But by sexualizing her
relationship with Mr. Barasa -

- Is there no better way to put that?
- Everything else sounds worse.

She's made you both confront
unresolved feelings...

about Mr. Barasa's impact on your lives
and how he affects your relationship.

Angela and I love each other
and are getting married.

I know. Why did you think
I was questioning that?

Look, shrinky, don't go making problems
where there aren't any, okay?

Although, the next time that
you drive somebody to the airport...

just let them fly
the hell out of Dodge, okay?

This all would have been a lot easier
if I'd kept my mouth shut.

No. Nonsense.
You're all friends.

I'm sure now that you see the situation for what
it is, you'll know how to move through it.

- Am I right?
- I think Dad wants us to apologize.

I apologize for...

sleeping with people.

I apologize for snapping at you after basically
giving you permission to sleep with people.

Oh, God!

So now everything is fine?

That is the result of open and honest
communication with a highly trained mediator.

Fine.

I am sorry for
being so cranky -

which is my basic personality,
so it seems stupid to apologize -

- Hodgins, would you just -
- I apologize.

Dr. Wexler never said one word...

about giving Frampton the okay
to build condos here.

Well, he signed a writ
saying this place had no historical value.

I'm stunned, I tell you.
The writ must be a forgery.

After two years, you hadn't found anything.
I think that's a reasonable timeline.

This says we have to vacate
the dig in two days.

But Dr. Wexler felt certain
we were close.

There was a previous Bronze Age
find about 600 meters south.

- That's his signature, right?
- I don't care. He wouldn't do it.

- Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan.
- Yeah?

Got these from our
forensic accountant.

Wow, look at that.
Some checks made out to Wexler.

Ten of them from a shell company
owned by Frampton.

Seems that 25,000 pounds was the going rate
for a piss-broke forensic anthropologist.

That's how he paid off his debts.

Frampton bribed Ian to vacate the dig.

They found traces of
mercury fulminate in the lower extremities...

higher concentration
on the patellas...

and the greatest was
where he was stabbed.

- So it was on the murder weapon.
- Yeah, it looks that way.

- Any idea what kind of weapon it was?
- No, not yet.

Whatever punctured the bone
was rough, like a stick.

And I've tried knives, awls, picks,
but nothing matches.

Who would use mercury fulminate?

It's used in neon lights, batteries,
by taxidermists and at tanneries...

and in the manufacture
of explosives.

Frampton has different companies.
Maybe one of them uses mercury fulminate.

- Yeah, I'll see what he owns.
- I'll look for any instruments found in those fields...

that could be used as a weapon.

Ah, look at that, Bones, huh?

I'm not saying that we should have a king
or a queen or beheadings and all that jazz.

I'm just saying, you know, calling someone,
like, uh- hey- Sir Seeley Booth?

- Now, that is civilized.
- Oh, what makes you think that you would be knighted?

Come on.
You're serious, right? Please.

- Well, look at this. You two seem to be relaxing.
- Yeah, I'm gettin' into it.

My head is feeling a little bit clearer,
as chaotic as the English can be.

So, Pritch, tell me. You think I got
what it takes to be a knight, right?

- That's not your first pint, is it?
- No.

Did you bring
information on the case?

I ran some checks on Saviours of Antiquity.
Last year they were suspects in the bombing...

of a new construction built on the site
of a 13th-century church in Bayswater.

- Burnt it to the ground.
- Mercury fulminate.

- I'm sorry?
- Used to manufacture explosives.

The residue would be on the bomb makers and
could have been transferred to Ian's stab wound.

Well, only two other members of the group
were charged. Others were released.

- Look who they let go.
- Cyril.

Yeah, who would be very angry
that Wexler sold out the dig.

I'm telling you, Vera, there's nothing
more to be done there. It's shut down.

- A week, maybe 10 days to clean up, and it's over.
- So suddenly after two years?

- Hey, Vera, Dr. Brennan wants you in the lab.
- What, not me?

No, Cyril.
Dr. Brennan wants you to tell us about this.

- Saviours of Antiquity? Please!
- Where were you on the night that Dr. Ian Wexler died?

- You can't be serious.
- Cyril finds out his professor is on the take and kills him.

I was in Wales, visiting my parents.

- Cyril quit the Saviours years ago.
- I joined mostly to meet women.

I'm not a fanatic.

Call my mum. Ask her.

Uh, we ate eel.
It's my favorite dish.

You think they ever
made a Frankenstein in this place?

No, Frankenstein was the doctor,
not the monster.

Yeah, 'cause the other way around,
that would make no sense.

- Bones, I know that look.
- Me too.

Whenever Ian had that look, it meant
that things had just gotten more complicated.

Clark just got
the last of the casts...

and while he was finishing
reconstructing the skeleton...

he found an extra bone.

- Wexler had an extra bone?
- No, no.

It's a shattered section of a femur from
someone else that the interns here didn't identify.

Every piece of bone you have here
was found and cataloged at the scene.

Well, maybe he held on to it.
Bone people like to hold on to bones.

I think it's the murder weapon.

- Seriously?
- The entry point of the stab wound is between T6 and T7...

extending approximately 22 centimeters
through the heart and lungs.

The killer used a bone to stab Ian.

Live by the bone, die by the bone.
It's- Sorry.

It occurs to me that if we find the origin of
the bone, then, well, we find the murderer.

That's where the mercury comes in.

This bone displays very high
levels of mercury fulminate.

- What does that mean, Bones?
- Nothing. - That's very useful.

I'm more interested in
the fact that it's ossified.

That basically means
it's turned to stone.

No, no. Don't you start
explaining things to me now.

What is the significance of that?

It means it's over 2,000 years old.

I was already working at the top
of my game knowing "ossified."

2,000 old puts this bone
firmly in the Bronze Age.

- The site.
- Oh, my God.

So this bone alone would have
prevented Frampton...

- from building his skyscrapers.
- Yes.

Perhaps the murderer
used it to kill Ian...

as a kind of symbolic revenge
for signing the writ.

- That makes sense.
- No, it doesn't make sense.

Nobody just kills somebody with a bone
symbolically, not even in England.

- So, what then, Agent Booth?
- You have the fire, the cigarette -

It was all set out of panic.
The killer didn't act symbolically.

He acted out of rage.

Sweets is actually good at his job.

I know, right? I mean, did you understand
you weren't actually mad at Cam?

No, actually, I was mad at her.

I mean, you don't have sex with someone
and then expect everything to be fine.

Yeah, not when they're supposed to be
gone and out of our lives. That is not fine.

No, it definitely is not.

Why? You're divorced. Why aren't you
fine with Cam sleeping with him?

Well, for the same reason you aren't
fine with him still being in town.

But if everything's over with him, wh -
why do you care who he sleeps with?

Why do you care
that he's still in town?

- I don't care.
- Obviously you do.

If you were 100% certain of me,
you wouldn't care. But you do.

If you were 100% certain you didn't want him,
you wouldn't care that Cam slept with him.

You don't trust me.

Saying that means you don't trust me.

How can two people who
don't trust each get married?

- I thought we did trust each other.
- Yeah, I did too.

Two people who don't trust each other
shouldn't be together at all.

- You really think that?
- Don't you?

I mean, yeah, I-I do.
I mean, I actually do think that, but -

Oh, my God.

Yeah.

I don't know what happened.

I don't either.

But I know it did happen.

I'm gonna- I'm gonna go.

You know,
all you had to do was trust me.

Hey, you're the one that's leaving.

You're the one
who isn't stopping me.

Yeah.

Dr. Wexler would have told us
about a find this important.

Yeah, unless he wanted
to keep the money.

- Dr. Brennan, why are we here?
- This was farmland, a stable for over 200 years.

- Oh, in the 18th and 19th centuries. So?
- No mercury.

But in the 17th century,
there was an inn over there...

and a tannery right there.

One of the oldest tanneries
in Kensington.

- Oh, my God.
- What?

- That's right.
- Mercury fulminate. It's used in tanning.

The tannery was here
for over a hundred years.

Mercury would have seeped into the soil
and contaminated whatever it touched.

- Why is this area covered?
- Vera, you supervised that part of the dig.

Nothing was found there.
Dr. Wexler told us to move on.

- Booth, will you help me?
- Yeah, I got it.

This soil should be loose
from the excavation.

- It's been packed down.
- Covered by wooden palettes.

- Vera, what's going on?
- Nothing. I told you.

Dr. Wexler instructed me to move on.

- Another ossified bone chip. This is a Bronze Age site.
- You live for this.

- Why'd you cover it up?
- I didn't do anything. Cyril, tell them.

We've been working together two years
trying to make this find.

The bone had no hilt. She would've
scraped her palm if she stabbed him.

You two are very, very good.

We're the best.

- Good job, Bones. Come on. Up you go, Vera.
- You don't understand.

- Have some cuffs, please?
- You don't understand what Ian wanted to do.

You kill Wexler so you could keep
the money for yourself?

- Ian wanted to give the money back. Don't you understand?
- Not at all.

I'm afraid I do.
It was Ian through and through.

He happily accepted the bribe money
when there was no reason to be bribed.

But the minute they found something,
he got all noble and principled and-

and wanted to return the money.

- It'd have ruined his career.
- And mine too. Don't you see?

- He never thought of that.
- So, Ian was a good man really?

A relatively good man -

which was good enough for some of us.

Technically, you have
not reached Temperance Brennan.

But if you leave a message, it will reach her -
me- Temperance Brennan.

Hey, sweetie, it's me.

Hodgins and I broke up, and, uh,
I won't really know why until I speak to you.

So I'm just gonna crawl into bed
until you get home, and then we can -

Angela.

Oh, God.
You again.

I heard you broke up
with the small angry man.

So before I leave,
I want to ask you one more time.

No. No one gets me.

I'm nobody's.

I understand.
Perhaps you can drive me to the airport?

That's some kind of code for you,
isn't it?

Maybe I should take him.

No. I'll take him.

- What's this?
- Look, it's been very interesting working here.

But I'm a man of science,
and this place is just -

- It's very dramatic.
- Well said.

I just want to work in
a regular lab, you know?

- So you want that ride or not?
- Yes, he does.

You know, Wexler was kind of like
a Robin Hood kind of a character -

- Steal from the rich.
- I turned down my chance to sleep with Robin Hood?

Sometimes you just
take the oddest leap.

Hey, Pritch.
Cheerio, mate.

"Hello" is fine.

On behalf of Her Majesty
the Queen of England...

I dub you Sir Seeley Booth...

Knight of the Realm.

Wow.

"Official Junior Knight."

Eh? Look at that. Wait a second.
That's from a toy store.

It doesn't mean
you're not Sir Galahad.

Thanks.

I'm sorry about Ian.

Me too.

It was a real honor
working with you both.

Same here.

If you need a lift
to the airport -

- Bones- She got us a limo.
- Of course.

But if you're ever in the colonies -

It would be lovely.

She likes you.

- No.
- Yes! And she's very sexual.

Enough. It's just -
Stop.

I'm gonna miss this place.

This is definitely not a diner.

- Come on. We should go before someone else gets killed.
- Yeah, you're right.

Here we go. Oh!

- My arm?
- Thank you.

- Thank you, Sir Seeley.
- Ah.

Pleasure, Lady Temperance.

- You sound Australian.
- I don't sound Australian.

# Love don't stand #

It's definitely not English.

# A ghost of a chance #

What's that mean?