Original subtitles

Previously on Elementary...

I did it.

Mr. Meers, to be clear,

you're confessing to killing Tim Bledsoe.

Tim Bledsoe was going to blow up the Bridgeport ferry

the day after you shot him.

I'm sorry, I-I don't know what you're talking about.

Patrick Meers was not acting alone.

Someone, or some group, were pulling his strings.

Please. My family's inside.

You're protecting someone.

I wish I could help you, Joan.

That video game.

Is that how you talk to them?

I need you to be brave now.

Can you be brave?

Ten years ago, my company wasn't quite where it is today.

We weren't the destination for e-mail,

search and social media for 500 million people worldwide.

We were just a tiny start-up.

In a sweaty office in San Jose.

2433 Piedmont Street, Suite 3.

I can still smell it.

And then, one day, Suite 2 becomes available.

It's bigger, it's nicer, has more windows.

So, we decide to make the move.

Trouble is, that means a new address.

New letterhead, new envelopes, business cards.

We have to reach out to the post office,

to our clients, our suppliers.

Late one night, the janitor hears us talking about this

and he says, "Why don't you just switch the numbers

on the doors?"

And that, folks, is the principle

on which Odker was built.

Simple solutions for complicated problems.

That's how a website that launched in an office park

became a multinational empire.

Leonardo da Vinci said it best.

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."

Tommyrot.

What are you wearing?

That man is a legitimate genius.

He's diminishing his intellectual sophistication

for the sake of a cocktail party anecdote.

It's just naked pandering.

It's a Tech Symposium,

not a doctoral defense, and he's one of the most

successful people on the planet, so obviously,

he's doing something right.

Why are you interested in him?

Because, apparently, he is interested in me.

Do you remember that gun buyback program

you started in my name before I left New York?

Of course, why?

He just made a huge donation.

How huge?

Let's just say that

the program should be in his name now.

The money came with an invitation.

He wants to meet tomorrow,

so I thought I'd get a handle on him.

Oh, my napalm is done curing.

Good luck with your new suitor.

It's not every day one attracts the fancy

of the eighth richest man in America.

Uh, try not to burn the house down.

Hello, Mr. 246.

Is there a Mrs. 246?

Hmm, pass.

I couldn't date a guy who has nicer legs than I do.

Oh, my God.

Where's Isabel?

I thought we would have seen her by now.

I know she was trying to finish in under two hours.

- Oh. - I guess it's tougher out there

than she would have thought. - Hmm.

- There she is! - Oh...

You got this!

God, she looks awful.

We would, too, after ten miles of trail running

and obstacle courses.

Come on, girl!

- You're so close! - Go, go, go, go, go!

What-what's happening? Why is she stopping?

I don't know.

Oh, my God.

Is she still breathing? I don't know.

♪ Elementary 7x05 ♪ Into the Woods Original Air Date on June 20, 2019

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

♪♪

Her name is Isabel Perez, she's 27.

Was 27.

We were roommates.

Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt her?

Isabel worked in admissions at this ritzy private school

in Tribeca, Saint Mark's.

She always took a lot of flak when rejection letters came out.

Angry parents.

She'd get these insane voice mails.

There were a few threats.

She ever report them?

I don't know. I don't think so.

I'll check with the school; they might have kept track.

If you think of anything else, you call this number, okay?

I have to go walk the course now.

We have to find where Isabel was attacked

if we're gonna find the person who did this.

You have any friends here, someone to drive you home?

Yeah.

All right.

U-Um, Detective.

There is no course.

Sorry?

This is an adventure race.

It means there's no set route.

There's a bunch of checkpoints all over the forest.

The runners all start together, but then they can

go to the checkpoints in whatever order they want,

as long as they get to all of them

before they reach the finish line.

You're telling me every inch of this forest is fair game?

I think I heard it's something like 3,000 acres.

Finding out where Isabel was attacked could take days.

Happened in the Southwest corner

of the park near the edge of Richmond Pond.

You gonna tell me how you know

where this girl was stabbed or am I supposed to guess?

I examined Miss Perez's body

while you were talking to her friend.

There was a smear of marsh mud on her left leg.

There was mud all over her body.

Yeah, but most of that mud had dried.

The marsh mud above her left ankle was still damp.

Okay.

There are several bodies of water in the Greenbelt,

but only one of them is surrounded by marshland.

Richmond Pond.

Given that the marsh mud was the freshest muck on her body...

We can assume the area around the pond

is where the attack went down.

Yeah.

She had a six-inch blade in her back.

She couldn't have made it far in that condition.

I'm not sure how likely it is we'll find

the exact scene of the stabbing, but...

Who knows, maybe we'll find a creepy shack

with a door off its hinges.

Yeah. Maybe.

Got metal pots, copper coiling, propane tanks.

Looks like a bootleg distillery to me.

What's left of one, anyway.

Well, it's certainly a crime scene, but...

I don't think it was where Isabel was stabbed.

No?

No.

There's two distinct sets of footprints.

But neither one of them is

small enough to be hers.

I doubt she was ever in here.

Then I wonder whose blood that is.

Someone else's.

The knife in her back pierced only muscle.

Didn't sever any major arteries; that's why she was able

to escape and make it to the finish line

before succumbing to her wounds.

This spatter is more consistent with...

a shooting.

Judging by the amount of blood, I'd say a fatal one.

So, someone gets shot here making moonshine or whatever,

Isabel runs by during the race...

Becomes a witness

that the killer feels compelled to deal with.

But he doesn't shoot her.

He stabs her. That make sense to you?

I think we have to identify the first victim

before we've got a chance at solving anything.

Well, we have to find them before we can identify them.

Dredge the pond and you will.

These marks were made when the shooting victim

was dragged out of here.

The heels of his shoes made them

before he was dumped in the water.

Looks like he was weighed down

with some big rocks.

I can see where they used to be.

I'll get the scuba team out here.

From search to social media

to scientific research,

Odker is more than just a company.

Odker is your solution.

Ms. Watson?

You should get going.

No, I don't understand. I had an appointment.

- Mm-hmm? - Am I at the wrong office?

Is this the online search office

and I'm supposed to be at the social media headquarters?

Oh, no, there's no confusion.

Odin's expecting you offsite. Clark will drive you.

Drive me where?

Ah, Ms. Watson.

Thank you so much for coming out.

It's my pleasure.

Sorry about the field trip.

It's just the only time I get any bandwidth these days

is during my archery and I didn't want to miss

the opportunity to meet.

Bow and arrow.

That's pretty lo-fi for a high tech guy.

Exactly. It's primal.

It settles the mind.

Some place for it.

I made a donation to the Parks Department last year

and this is their way of saying thank you, I guess.

They gave you a park?

Oh, for-for one hour a day.

I really am grateful.

I mean, the money that you put into

the buyback program is gonna go a long way.

I'll confess, I'm a little skeptical

about the gun buyback initiative.

Not the goal, of course. Just the efficacy of it.

Jury's out, I'd say.

So, the donation you made was just to find out if they work?

No, it was to buy an introduction.

And maybe earn a small favor.

I, uh, I have a problem.

It's well below your pay grade, I'm sure,

but I'm told that you and your partner are the best.

I'd be in your debt if you could make time to help.

Last week, my sister received a couple of letters.

Someone threatened to kidnap her daughter

if we didn't pay up.

At first, I thought this was some kind of cruel prank.

I mean, normally you have to actually kidnap someone

before you demand a ransom,

but then these showed up.

Is this your niece?

Abigail. She's 16.

Whoever sent this knows where she hangs out,

who her friends are.

I want you and your partner to find out who sent this.

I have to ask: Why us?

I'm sure you have people on your staff

who can handle this.

Yes, I do have good people on the payroll,

but that's the problem--

You see, I think these threats came from someone

who works for me.

What makes you think that?

One of the letters referenced

Abigail going to an equestrian camp.

Thing is, she's never been to one.

I was thinking of surprising her for her birthday,

and I mentioned it at a company dinner a couple of weeks ago.

The only people that knew

I was thinking of sending her to that camp

are the Odker employees who were there that night.

And my head of security is one of them.

So you need an outsider.

My niece is in real danger.

Her mother's a wreck. I won't rest easy

until this is settled.

Can you help me?

How did it go with your billionaire admirer?

Our billionaire admirer.

It turns out

he knows all about us, and he wants to use us

to look into kidnapping threats

against his niece.

So these are the letters that he got.

- What did you say? - I said yes.

I mean, after the check

he gave our foundation, this is sort of

the least we could do, no? I loathe that expression.

The least one could do is always nothing.

Abigail's family tree

makes her an easy target for lowlifes and miscreants.

Any threat against her is more likely a haphazard shakedown

than a legitimate risk.

It hardly seems worthy of our time.

You seriously don't want to help?

I'd like to know why you do.

And before you say the donation, it was certainly generous, yes,

but the whole reason it's called charity

is because it requires no recompense.

Well, I think a relationship with Odin could be a good thing.

And before you say it, I am not talking about sex.

I was gonna say it.

I'm thinking about our work.

I mean, the guy is sitting on the most extensive trove

of private user data in the world.

I mean, you don't think that would be

a nice resource for a couple of detectives?

How do you suggest we proceed?

He's gonna let us into his offices late tonight.

He thinks the threats are coming from someone inside Odker.

With a little luck

and access to everyone's computers,

we should be able to find out who.

Were the divers successful?

Twice as successful as we thought they'd be.

They found two bodies.

Want to meet me at the morgue?

Meet John Doe. Late 40s. Gunshot victim.

Water damage makes it hard to nail down

exactly when it happened, but I'm guessing

sometime early this morning.

Well, there's not much tissue damage

around the entry wound.

Must have been

from a small caliber round.

Fired from something weak.

How about a single-shot Remington derringer?

Scuba team found it in the pond next to the bodies.

Only holds one shot.

One shot. All guns should be Remington derringers.

A relic from the 19th century; won't be easy to trace.

I'm hoping we have better luck with him.

They're running his fingerprints and dental records--

if they're in the system, we'll have his name in a few hours.

Any luck IDing the second victim?

Actually, yeah.

According to his collar, his name is Truffles.

I'm confused. Are you saying

the person that killed this man

also killed this pig?

Hog, actually.

And I had doubts myself until I saw photos

of the recovery operation.

Both bodies were weighed down the same way.

Same rope. Same knots.

Same heavy rocks from the edge of the pond.

Any bullet holes in it?

Nope.

So his demise wasn't caused by the derringer.

How did it die?

Working on it. Uh, we're a little outside

my area of expertise.

Mine, too.

But you and I have dissected

enough animal cadavers

in medical school.

Dilated pupils like this in a mammal could mean

that it was fed something toxic.

Already sent a blood sample

to the lab.

Say you're right.

Why would someone want to poison a hog?

And why hide its body?

So, a man in a forest,

and his hog,

both killed at the same time.

Unless we're looking at the fallout

from the world's most nauseating love triangle,

we have three victims,

two murder weapons...

And zero motive.

We got an ID on the man they pulled from the pond.

His name was Reginald Henderson.

He went by "Renny." He was a bartender in Brooklyn.

We're pretty sure that he owned the illegal distillery

that Marcus and Sherlock found.

He had an old arrest for selling moonshine.

That's why his prints were in the system.

This his pig?

Hog.

But yes. They found this photo

in the shack.

Killing the guy's pet...

Man, that just seems... mean-spirited.

Sherlock and I don't think

it was done out of spite.

We think it was part of a larger plot.

CSU found trace amounts of ricin

in some of the broken equipment

in the shack.

The lab confirmed that it was

the same toxin that killed Truffles.

The hog.

If this adds up to a larger plot,

I'm not seeing it.

We got a runner with a knife in her back,

a dead bootlegger and a poisoned animal.

What am I missing?

I think the key

is the order in which they died.

So first it was Truffles,

then the bootlegger,

and then the runner.

It all started when Renny

started making ricin in his distillery.

You think he's the one

who made the stuff that killed his pet?

He had the expertise and the equipment.

And it's easy to extract toxins

from castor beans if you're used to making alcohol.

Now, the question is,

was he forced to make it, or...

was he working with the killer before he died?

Either way, the killer tests the stuff out on Truffles.

Probably at gunpoint.

When he sees it works, he shoots Renny.

And that's when Isabel Perez jogs by, catches him in the act.

He only had one round

in his gun, and he had already fired it.

So he attacks her with a knife.

Why the weird old gun?

Probably because he had a record and couldn't buy a gun legally,

so he used a family heirloom.

We looking at Renny's friends and associates?

Turns out he had a fight

with his boss at the bar he worked at a month ago.

Marcus is already on his way there.

Excuse me.

Yo, bartender.

In a minute.

I need to talk to your boss, Bo Willoughby.

Can you get him for me?

Sorry, Bo's not here.

He called in earlier, said he was taking a trip.

Kind of a last-minute thing.

Three weeks ago,

Bo got into a fight with another one of the bartenders here,

Renny Henderson.

- You know what it was about? - Yeah.

They'd both been drinking.

They got a little annoyed with each other.

It was nothing.

I'm not so sure about that.

Renny's the reason I'm here.

He was murdered this morning.

What?

That's why I need to know more

about the fight he had with Bo.

You want me to shut this place down?

Wouldn't be a problem.

I didn't really know Renny.

We weren't friends or anything.

But I know he had a side business making moonshine.

It was good stuff. Bo would let him sell it here,

and they would share the profits.

Artisanal moonshine?

That day that they fought, Renny was ticked.

He said Bo was taking too big a cut.

They started swinging, the next thing you know,

the customers are calling the cops.

They stay mad, or was it settled?

Bo fired Renny.

Renny said Bo had better watch his back.

That was the last time I saw Renny.

You need anything else?

Yeah. Bo's number.

I just heard from Marcus.

Looks like Renny's boss could be our guy.

His name is Bo Willoughby.

He's putting out a Finest Message.

What is that?

I mean, I can see it's a wine bottle.

Yeah, the, uh, floor of Renny's shack

was covered in glass.

I was studying a crime scene photograph,

and I noticed that some shards in the corner really stood out.

I sifted those chunks out of the rest of the pile

that CSU collected, and I could see why.

They're older. Decades older, in fact.

So it's an antique wine bottle?

Mm-hmm. Well, most of one.

The section where the label would be is missing,

hence the modeling clay.

So the killer took the label. Why?

Well, I'm hoping that's a question...

we'll be able to ask him ourselves.

- You found a print? - Yeah.

I can already tell from the swirl pattern

that it's not Renny Henderson's.

You said Marcus believes Bo Willoughby is a suspect.

Well, he would have given his fingerprints

when he applied for a liquor license.

So I'll tell Marcus he needs to procure

Bo's application for comparison.

In the meantime, you and I are due at Odker.

Joan, thanks so much for coming.

- You must be Sherlock. - Yes.

I understand we're here to find a quisling in your organization.

Probably one of my guys in the coding lab.

I was toasting them when I made the comments

that showed up in those threat letters.

If not, you can check my head of security.

He's up in the C-suite. Sims.

Name's on the door. Probably best

to be gone by 4:00.

We have early risers here.

You're not staying?

Oh. No.

My autobiography says that the secret of my success

is "a dedicated spirit"-- truth is,

that just tested well in focus groups.

My real secret is eight hours' sleep,

every night, no excuses.

You do what you have to here.

Whatever it takes

to keep Abigail safe.

All right, we'll call you

in the morning with an update.

Not too early.

Good luck.

So, Matthew Yang

is using pirated software to cheat at online chess,

and he illegally downloaded the last Sharknado movie.

Other than that, he's clean.

I'm ready to call it. We've looked at everyone.

I think we go to Odin,

and we tell him that we need to look at the waitstaff

at the restaurant where he talked about his niece,

because I don't think anyone here

where he works is behind the threats.

You might be incorrect.

When did you find all this?

While you were watching Sharknado.

These are poker chips from an illicit cardroom

or casino, judging by the poor quality.

The occupant of this desk,

Blake Tofel, is swimming in debt.

Oh.

He's also written a lot of big checks,

and none of them have his name on it.

Now, what is Cashew LTD?

It appears to be an "S" corp

that Mr. Tofel uses to hide his illicit gambling from the IRS.

Oh, there is a recent debit here for 75 grand.

I mean, I know Odker pays well, but...

Exactly. This book appears to tell the story

of a man with a gambling addiction.

I don't imagine there's anything in there

about him threatening his boss's niece

and demanding a ransom.

No, but we both know

that addiction can be like an organism.

It can fight to stay alive.

Easy to imagine that if he ran out of money,

he might go to great lengths to get some more.

I'm not ready to go to Mr. Tofel's employer yet,

but I think he's worth a closer look.

Marcus!

Hey. Sorry to bother you so early.

Nonsense. Watson and I are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

We ran the fingerprint you found on that antique wine bottle

and got a match, but it's not the one we were expecting.

In fact, I think the whole investigation

is moving in a new direction.

It wasn't Bo Willoughby's?

No. He's innocent.

We caught up with him up at a bachelor party

late last night on Long Island.

He told us he'd been there all weekend.

He can prove as much?

Six different ways.

He didn't kill anyone.

Not yesterday morning, anyway.

But the print you found,

that's our new angle. Belongs to a guy named Todd Harris.

He's a wine dealer. Sells high-end stuff all over town,

including to Bo Willoughby's bar.

It stands to reason he would've known Renny Henderson.

How did Mr. Harris run afoul of the law?

Why are his prints in the system?

He was arrested for assault when he was 18.

Broke the victim's arm in two places.

Well, sounds like someone who would kill two people and a hog.

Where is he now?

Hard to say. None of his clients have seen him in two days,

but he's about to hear from the NYPD.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Mr. Harris, open up. This is the police.

We'd like to talk with you.

Something's wrong.

Mr. Harris. Police.

Anybody home?

Mr. Harris?

We've got movement down here.

Police! Don't move.

Oh, man.

This is Major Case to Central. I need a bus

at 589 Sumpter Avenue in Brooklyn.

I have a male, mid-40s,

victim of an apparent gunshot wound to the neck.

Put a rush on it, Central. This guy's lost a lot of blood.

Mr. Harris?

I'm Detective Bell. This is my colleague, Joan Watson.

We're with the NYPD.

Your doctor told us that you were shot in the mouth.

The bullet broke your mandible and exited through your neck.

You're lucky to be alive.

We know your jaw's been wired shut,

but we brought this to help you answer some questions.

You can just type,

and the program will do the talking for you.

You saved my life.

Thank you.

I'm just glad we found you when we did.

You lost a lot of blood.

And look,

if you're not up to this, we can come back later.

No. I want to help.

Tell us what happened.

I was in bed. Tuesday.

There was a sound. Someone in the house.

Before I even got up,

there was a shape, a man, over me.

He hit me. I got knocked out.

So you never saw his face?

I woke up a few minutes later.

He tied me up, blindfolded.

We were in the basement.

I could hear him looking through my wine racks.

He was mad. He couldn't find what he wanted.

He talked to you?

Yes, but I didn't know his voice.

I didn't know who he was.

He wanted my Baptiste.

Is that a wine?

Chateau Baptiste. It's French merlot.

He wanted my Baptiste '57.

He started yelling. "Where is it?"

I told him I had three bottles in a locked cabinet.

We saw those cabinets down there.

Is that where you keep the good stuff?

Looks like he left everything else in there.

So that was the only wine he wanted?

Yes.

He took it and put a gun in my mouth.

When he shot, I thought I was dead.

I don't know when I woke up, but he was gone.

I was still tied up.

Everything hurt.

It was torture. But then you found me.

I can't thank you enough.

Don't thank us yet. We still need to find this guy.

And we will.

Got to think that that guy was shot

by the same person

who killed Renny Henderson and Isabel Perez.

Ballistics already confirmed that the bullet

that came out of his neck was fired

from a Remington derringer.

Thing is, if he got robbed on Tuesday night,

that means he was the first victim.

The other two got killed the next morning.

The antique bottle that Sherlock put together,

it has to be the same bottle

that the killer stole, right?

I mean, he wanted to lace it with the ricin that Renny made.

That's why he took the label with him when he fled.

He didn't want anyone catching on.

Question is, why did it have to be Chateau Baptiste '57?

Why not one of Harris's other bottles?

Think I should put it out to the media, ask them to alert

all the bars and restaurants in the city.

They need to hold off on serving any of the stuff

until we figure this out.

No telling where the poisoned bottles

might pop up, so better safe than sorry.

I don't think they're gonna pop up just anywhere.

I think I know exactly who the killer wants to poison.

I'll get a location on this guy.

We can go alert him together.

I'll let Sherlock know.

Watson, excellent timing. I have news.

So do I. I'm at the hospital with Marcus right now.

If you don't mind, I'm in the middle of burglarizing

- a criminal's lair, so... - What?

Where are you?

Banking associate of mine who traced

Tofel's accounts found rent payments

for a walk-up in Tribeca.

And you thought it'd be a good idea to break in there?

Well, no, I thought I would find evidence

that Tofel authored the letters threatening Odin's niece,

but instead I found a private cardroom that he maintains.

That's where the poker chips came from.

It seems he's less degenerate gambler

and more poker host.

So there's nothing to connect him to the letters?

No. In fact, I no longer think

he had anything to do with it.

It seems that his side business is doing quite well.

He's actually up on the year.

That sort of blows our motive.

The man writes

dynamic programming algorithms for Odker.

We shouldn't be surprised that blackjack

hasn't proven so vexing as to bankrupt him.

We'll have to go back to the drawing board.

Well, we'll have to break the bad news to Odin later.

Right now we have to ruin a different rich guy's day.

You ever heard of Jason Wood?

No.

Well, he's the chief investment officer at Grant Capital,

and I believe he is the target

of this ricin wine plot.

It's got to be one of these Occupy people, right?

None of them can stand the fact

that someone else has worked hard

and has more than they do.

H-Hon, slow down.

No one's said a word yet about who wants to kill me or why.

To be honest, Mrs. Wood,

we're not ready to speculate about motive at all.

Then why are you so sure Jason's at risk?

Because we already know the murder weapon they want to use.

It's a bottle of Chateau Baptiste '57.

- That's my favorite wine. - We know.

In fact, anyone who's searched you

or Chateau Baptiste online knows.

"For years, Mr. Wood has snapped up

"every bottle of Baptiste '57

"that's come up for auction in New York.

"And while other collectors

"stash their prizes in the cellar,

the banking superstar confesses he drinks every bottle."

Whoever wants you dead,

we're thinking they read this and a light bulb went off.

Someone's out there poisoning Baptiste?

With ricin.

It's cost two people their lives so far.

Another man was shot through the neck.

The killer seems hell-bent on getting a poisoned bottle

of that particular vintage in front of you.

Do you have any idea who that might be?

I mean, I help run

one of the biggest hedge funds in the world.

People wanting me dead, it kind of comes with the job.

Nobody stands out?

I get at least one death threat every quarter.

Two or three if we kick off

a merger that leads to labor force contractions.

You mean, when you cost thousands of people

their jobs?

You haven't bought any Chateau Baptiste recently, have you?

No.

But I was planning on it.

There's a wine auction in Chelsea tonight.

Corinna and I were gonna pick up a few bottles.

I guess that's out. We can nix the babysitter.

On the contrary.

We'd very much appreciate it if the two of you

would be our guests this evening.

♪♪

I know Kevlar isn't a breathable fabric,

but if you could stop adjusting yourself, that'd be great.

I can't believe I agreed to this.

I can't believe you suggested it.

Relax. Tonight's lot

was checked and secured by the auction house two weeks ago.

Now, if this guy's plan is gonna work,

he's gonna have to slip his bottles into the mix tonight.

But if you're not here... we'll miss our chance.

I don't see anyone over there.

We're the only ones even going near the Baptiste lot.

No one's even bidding.

Stop looking. Just give him privacy

so he can slip in his poisoned bottles.

Once he makes his move, the police will jump on it.

Keith, you got eyes on the target?

We got a little group crowding our view

of Lot 49.

Give me the signal if you see action.

You know, in my line of work,

we try to minimize risk and exposure.

That's exactly

why we're here.

To get the guy who wants you dead off the street.

Minimize your risk.

They why do I feel

like I have a giant bull's-eye on my chest?

Even if you did,

the chances are he wouldn't be able to hit it.

We think he disposed of his only weapon in a pond.

Not to mention the fact that he's gone to great lengths

not to shoot you.

It suggests the appeal

of this little scheme is anonymity.

Wait. Wh-What do you mean?

He means that the killer probably doesn't think

he can shoot you and get away with it.

Poisoning wine that you like, on the other hand,

wine that anyone here tonight could have bought,

it would have seemed more random.

It would have made it more difficult

for police to identify him.

It also affords him time to get away.

By the time you're choking to death on your own vomit,

he could be on another continent.

Anyone ever tell you two

your bedside manner sucks?

Just look for people you recognize.

Employees. Corporate rivals.

Any threats at all.

Hey.

- Oh. - What's going on?

Looks like we lost the signal from the cameras.

We got to see the floor, man.

How long will it take to get them back?

I got to do this one at a time.

This venue's not a bank, you know?

This is just a temporary setup for this event.

We're wireless here.

Well, if we can't turn all the cameras back on

at the same time, how did they all go off at the same time?

Well, the rest of the power's still on, so, uh...

I don't know, signal jammer?

Radio check. Someone say "copy."

Damn it.

It is a jammer.

♪♪

What is it?

When we arrived here this evening, I made small marks

on the labels of the bottles of Baptiste '57.

When we passed by three minutes ago, everything was as I had left it.

Now two of the bottles are missing their marks.

He must have made the switch. How did...

Hey. We have a problem.

All the cameras are down, and somebody jammed the signal.

It's because they were ready to make the switch.

Just a moment ago.

He's still got to be here.

I mean, this space is huge,

and with this crowd, he can't just sprint for the exit.

Please lock the room down, now.

We need to keep him here with us.

You want me to risk spooking the killer

and then trap him in here with a hundred people?

Do you want to catch him or not?

Keith! Seal the exit.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Detective Marcus Bell,

NYPD. Sorry to ruin your evening,

but this is a police matter-- I need you all to remain calm.

This room just became a crime scene.

Signal jammer that knocked out the security cameras,

it was in a potted plant.

Killer smuggled it in,

flipped it on when he was ready to make the swap.

Did CSU find any prints?

No. They're not optimistic we'll be able to pull one

off the poisoned bottles he planted, either.

Any luck with the guests?

An impressive cross section of Manhattan's elite.

I reckon half of them are capable of homicide.

Nobody jumps out for the murders we've been looking into?

Jason and Corinna said they don't recognize anyone here.

Then we got nothing. We have to let these people go.

I'm convinced the killer is in this room with us.

You might be right...

- Might? - I'm aware of your track record,

but knowing he's here and proving it

are two different things.

The folks in this room have half

the New York Bar Association on retainer.

I can't detain them indefinitely

until we can tie someone to the crime.

Sorry.

Wait.

It's him.

I know you.

You're the bartender, Colby, right?

Didn't recognize you without the beard and the hat.

What are you doing here?

I like wine. Is that a crime?

No. But murder, conspiracy and animal cruelty are.

The knots on his shoes, they're figure eight packer's knots.

Rarely seen outside the meat industry.

Your father a butcher?

They're identical to the knots used

to tie rocks to Renny Henderson and his hog

to make him sink in Richmond Pond.

They look like the bindings

that were around Todd Harris's hands, too.

You might as well have signed your crimes.

Come on.

You think I'm a criminal because of my shoelaces?

Actually, mate, knot forensics have been used

to identify the culprits in many cases,

all of them prosecuted successfully,

as I'm certain yours will be.

So, this fella,

he breaks into Todd Harris's home,

steals his wine, shoots him,

takes the bottles to Renny Henderson.

Forces him to make ricin,

tests it on Renny's pig, which kills the pig.

He kills Renny, too.

Then he kills Isabel Perez

to cover it up just so he could fail

to poison his actual target.

He had a busy week.

Someone should have told this idiot

there are simpler ways to kill a man.

Maybe not if you're hoping to get away with it.

His plan wasn't complicated; it was deliberately designed

to obscure his involvement.

He would inevitably be the prime suspect

in any direct attack on the Woods.

Why is that?

Because he's been obsessed

with Corinna Wood for a long time.

Ever since high school, in fact.

They grew up in Montana together,

and he followed her to New York.

He was arrested for stalking her. He served five years

for that and an unrelated weapons charge.

You were right-- that's why he

couldn't get his hands on a decent weapon.

While he was inside,

he read that Corinna had got married,

and that outraged him.

She was his and his alone.

But how was he gonna get rid of her interloping spouse?

Inspiration struck

when he found out that Corinna's new husband

had a taste for Chateau Baptiste '57.

Well, if the wife knew the guy,

how come she didn't recognize him at the auction?

Because the last time she saw him, he was 200 pounds heavier.

He lost all the weight in prison.

Always inspiring to see a convict

using their time productively.

Perhaps this time around,

he'll write the Great American Novel.

I suppose he'll have

the rest of his life to figure it out.

"When an archer misses the center of the target,

"he turns around

and looks for the cause of his failure within himself."

I like Confucius as much as the next guy,

but sometimes the wind blows.

If you have a moment,

we'd like to discuss the matter of your niece, Mr. Reichenbach.

Oh, you can call me Odin. All my friends do.

I haven't decided if we're going to be friends.

We came to tell you

that Abigail is safe.

Well, that is a relief.

So... who sent the kidnapping threats?

There is no kidnapping threat. Never was.

Watson and I vetted every Odker employee

on the list of suspects that you gave us.

None of them sent any letters.

We visited your sister this morning--

we told her that we hit a wall and asked her if she could think

of anyone close to her that might have sent the threats.

Maybe they didn't come from inside Odker after all.

She had no idea what we were talking about.

Said she never received any threats.

You sent us

on a wild goose chase; we'd like to know why.

It was a test.

You passed.

Our renown as detectives

is the reason you hired us in the first place.

So testing our skills is completely unnecessary.

It wasn't your skills I was testing.

It was the two of you.

I told you my niece was in danger,

and you did everything in your power to help her.

Everything. Whether it was legal or not.

You don't know what steps we took.

I do.

You solicited an illegal search of my employee's bank records.

You broke into his home.

You broke more than a dozen laws.

Don't worry, you've nothing to fear from me.

Right now, I'm on your side.

I'd do anything to protect an innocent person.

It's an impulse

I think we share with someone you've apprehended recently.

Patrick Meers.

♪♪

We were looking for the people he was working for.

You're one of them, aren't you?

You've been laboring under the misconception

that Patrick is some sort of terrorist.

That's not true. In fact, I'd call him a patriot.

The world could use more people like him.

In fact, I'd like to think

I'm looking at two of them right now.

Our friend was shot and almost killed,

and you just admitted you were behind it.

I didn't tell Patrick Meers to kill your captain.

He made a mess.

He made his own decisions about cleaning it up

and I am very sorry for it.

Sorry enough to admit your involvement to the NYPD?

All I did

was tell Patrick what I'd learned about Tim Bledsoe.

I had reason to believe that an army veteran

with his psychological makeup

would take steps to avoid a tragedy, and he did.

What happened next was also tragic, but...

...I am a practical man,

and 200 lives were saved.

I'd like to talk about that.

We speak with murderers on a regular basis, Mr. Reichenbach.

Do you imagine any of them

convinced us of their righteousness?

Perhaps you should consider

the possibility that I am not the kind of man

you deal with on a regular basis.

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man