All language subtitles for NCIS - 23x15 - Knick-Knack.ETHEL.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

The USS Archer served valiantly

during World War II.

Here in the engine room,
life was grueling...

hot, cramped, and filled
with hidden dangers.

Hey, Dad, did you hear?

This ship was in the war.

Oh, yeah? Amazing.

Over here, Dad.

This is the engine order telegraph.

It could stop the entire ship
in a crisis.

That's great, honey.

Don't touch anything.

This whole place is covered in grease.

Riley, look out!

Are you okay?

That was awesome.

That was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

The tour said, "Hidden dangers."

No kidding. This place is a death trap.

Best exhibit ever.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

Oh, yeah, it was... Hey, morning.

Hey.

Oh, come on.

What's wrong?

This.

Not-so-special delivery?

It's from my mom.

Is that bad?

She's on a wellness kick.

She thinks my job is "too unhealthy."

Well, she's not wrong.

- What?
- You're not gonna open it?

I love my mom, just not
the meal subscription trials

she keeps sending. It's all kale,

- all the time.
- Kale's good for you.

So is a tetanus shot.

You know, you could, uh,
open it and then toss it.

Nope. And no dumpster diving, McGee.

I'll give you a dollar to open it.

I'd give you a ten for some kale.

I'm hungry.

Well, you better pack your lunch,
we're going on a field trip.

- Where to?
- Got a body on a museum ship.

Please tell me
it's not the Constellation.

Or the Torsk.

Or, God forbid, the John W. Brown.

You have a museum ship ranking system?

You don't?

The USS Archer hasn't seen this
much action since Guadalcanal.

You have this ship memorized, too?

Read it off the plaque on our way in.

For fun?

Nah, more, uh, childhood trauma.

"29 ships went down in the

"Battle of Guadalcanal.

Archer barely survived."

Victim wasn't so lucky.

You got an ID?

Yeah. Retired Navy Captain
Miles Griffin.

Worked here on the ship as
the, uh, Collections Manager.

Well, I'm gonna put a BOLO out
for, uh, albino monks.

Body. Museum.

Guys, The Da Vinci Code.

Jimmy, time of death?

1:00 a.m. last night.

- Cause?
- Preliminarily, I would

say this was blunt force trauma
to the head.

Looks like our victim
dressed the wound himself,

which suggests that he survived
the initial blow.

Well, maybe he escaped his
attacker and then hid in here.

This isn't the initial crime scene?

You know, Torres is sweeping
the rest of the ship.

I'll go check in with him.

For retired Navy, what's the
deal with the Marine Corps coat?

Marine coat that seems
like it's three sizes too big.

Does the museum have a uniform exhibit?

Uh, yes. On the second deck.

I'm sorry. I'm Nora Ankrom,
Griff's assistant.

Griff?

Everyone called him that.

He was a good friend. A mentor.

I just can't believe he's gone.

When'd you see him last?

About 10:00 last night.

He was on a call with a military
antiquities dealer in Okinawa.

Did Griff usually work late?

He lived here.

Dedicated.

Yes, but I mean he actually lived here.

No apartment.

Just kept a bed in his office.

Well, this is the initial crime scene.

Yeah, looks like we found
our murder weapon.

It would appear our, uh,

museum curator was attacked
in his own office.

Let me guess, not a computer guy?

Griff never liked anything
he couldn't touch and feel.

Kept a journal.

Is that some kind of code?

Eh, more like a custom shorthand.

Everything Griff owned
is in that cabinet.

- Pretty modest.
- Sentimental.

He kept one item to represent
each year of his life.

Whatever meant the most
to him that year.

His way of remembering.

Something's missing here.

Hey, look at this.

Those marks are
about the size of a service medal.

I have an idea where it might be.

Take a look at that.

Well,
service medals are supposed to be pinned

above the left pocket.

So, that one's wrong.

Not wrong. Deliberate.

I think our victim took
this medal from his office

and pinned it here himself.

Well, if he grabbed it before he died,

maybe this is The Da Vinci Code.

Clues, symbols.

Maybe our victim was trying
to tell us who killed him.

Uh, Marine coat, Marine medal.

Killed by a Marine?

No idea...

but he was definitely trying
to tell us something.

Keep what safe?

What is "it"?

All right, thank you.

Okay, Griffin's grandson, Kevin,
is on his way in.

He is the only living relative.

All right, the museum
just finished their inventory.

Nothing is missing from the ship.

All right, Navy Captain Miles Griffin.

Retired in 2012.

Been curating the museum ever since.

I see no debts, tiny pension,

one checking account
with four grand in it.

No cars. No house.

The guy lived like a monk.

Yeah, a monk who deals in antiques.

Maybe Griffin found a valuable piece,

and the killer was after it.

And then, Griffin refused
to hand it over,

the killer got violent,

and then Griffin managed to escape and

leave us clues.

Well, if it was that important,
why not just call the police?

Uh, because Indiana Jones
never called the police.

What? I thought we were doing
Da Vinci Code.

Well, it's both now.

We're looking for a killer, Jess.
We're not treasure hunting.

What, you got proof?

Still working on that part.

Second thoughts about
opening it? Could be treasure.

Eh. I've got the real thing to dig for.

If our victim did
leave something behind,

it's got to be something big.

You know, I wouldn't bet on it.

My grandfather, Lolo Griff,

he wasn't into actual treasure.

Even when I was a kid, my grandfather

always had some kind of knickknack,

like a trinket, just to show off.

That was his love language.
He loved stuff.

He own any stuff of value?

Of value? No, no, no.

I mean, no offense, anything
he ever had was just junk.

He ever mention anything
that he wanted to pass down

or keep safe?

He left behind some kind of
clue trail, didn't he?

We're exploring possibilities.

Wow, uh, don't-don't bother
following it.

Could lead us to his killer.

Christmas Day. I was eight.

Lolo Griff says that
he's got a secret gift.

We just have to find it.

So, he sends us on this wild search

to follow all these cryptic clues

that he's planted
all over the neighborhood.

And eventually...

...that trail,

it led right back home.

So, we burst through the door,
all excited, and we say,

"Lolo, Lolo Griff, Lolo Griff,
where's the gift?

Where's the secret gift?"

And he leans over
the dinner table, and he says,

"There's no greater gift

than a meal with family."

Well, that's, uh,

that's kind of sweet.

Not for an eight-year-old.

If my grandfather is
leading you to something,

it won't be what you're looking for.

Blue?

Maybe red?

Maybe both?

Oh, fiddlesticks.

That is a very scientific diagnosis.

Sorry. Kasie makes this look easy.

Well, she earned her trip to Iceland.

Quantum optics conference.

She spent weeks training me
to cover her lab, so, you know,

please don't let me screw this up.

Oh, relax. You're doing fine.

Except we're officially out
of hidden messages.

No invisible ink. No alternate
spectrum. No infrared.

Do you mind if I peek?

You called, Curtis?

Right. Yes.

Blood from the crime scene
and the murder weapon

all belong to the victim.

Fingerprints in the dried blood,

also his.

But I did pull a partial print

off our naughty nautical souvenir.

No hits yet, but they will come.

Hopefully.

If you find a map
with an "X" on it, I'm retiring.

Yeah.

This is painful.

Our victim had no life
outside of this museum.

Nothing here but purchase orders
and research notes.

There's no people.
You know, nothing personal.

Oh, that's rough.

When we cleared out
Vance's office, at least he had

some family photos there, you know?

Yeah. You could tell what mattered.

Well, not with Griffin.

Tell you something else, too,

future generations will
only get organized

hard drives from me.

Not only will they know who I was,

it will all be text-searchable.

I mean, that is if
they can crack your passwords.

What about you? You, uh,
you passing down any heirlooms?

No, man. My family left Colombia
with only what we could carry.

Dictators make it hard
to protect history.

Wait a minute.

This pile is very personal.

It's all letters from a "B. Lipton."

Definitely not fan mail.

Griffin had an enemy?

Look at that. Read that right there.

"You don't deserve it."
"It belongs to me."

Wonder if that's the same "it"
that needs protecting?

Hey, these smell.

Perfume?

Oh, well.

"B. Lipton" is Bethany Lipton.

Director of Acquisitions
at the National Museum of Art.

Well, that makes her competition.

And whatever "it" is,
they were both fighting over it.

Oh, you're just in time.

I was about to close
the history book on our

- dead curator.
- How's it end?

Tragically. As I suspected,

Captain Griffin was attacked
less than an hour

before he died from blunt force trauma.

So, our victim was hit, came to,

and then used what little time
he had left to lay out

a clue trail, instead of,

you know, calling 911.

Well, at least the early
chapters of his story are still here.

Yes, if one can crack the code.

Did one?

Kind of.

Each passage uses

a slightly different shorthand,
and it's all coded.

Except for the dates and numbers.

Okay, so here's how it works.

The trinkets in Griffin's curio cabinet

are all linked to a year in his life,

and each one of those
is linked to a passage

in this journal, so...

you know the medal that we
found on the Marine Corps coat?

That was dated 1946.

That gave me a starting point,
and from there,

I cracked ten pages pretty easily.

How easily?

Well, I'm very good at puzzles.

Or Griffin wanted us reading this.

Mm.

- What's so special about 1946?
- Nothing.

Actually, the medal isn't
about that year at all.

No, it actually points to 1976,

when our victim befriended
a Marine Major named Kirby.

Kirby. That name sounds familiar.

Ah, yeah, here we go.

Reoccurring payments from the museum

to a James Kirby.

$600 a month.

No explanation what it's for.

Found him.

Major James Kirby, U.S. Marines.

German Occupation Service World War II.

Died in 1982.

But these payments didn't start
until 2020.

And the money's still being
sent every month

to an apartment in Falls Church.

Why pay a man who's been dead
for nearly 50 years?

Check it out, Indy.

I get the money on time every month.

It pays for the basement room down here.

Does anyone stay in this room?

No one. Haven't seen a soul since

the lease was signed six years ago.

Well, thank you. We've got it from here.

And the museum pays for this room?

There is treasure in here.
I can feel it.

What do we have here?

Maybe the treasure's
behind a secret panel.

- Oh.
- Okay. You see?

My bad.

Hmm.

Yeah, you'd make
a terrible archeologist.

What? Why?

Because you won't dig.

Mm.

Or even notice the incredibly obvious.

Told you. I could feel it.

Wait, is that a...

...a bone?

Well, whatever it is,

it was worth dying to protect.

There are no prints
on the box or the bone.

Curtis is still working on it.

Kasie's gonna be mad
she missed treasure hunts

- and mystery bones.
- Mm.

Curtis thinks that it might be
a human tibia or femur.

Some, uh, religious relic
from the Holy Land?

Well, it had to belong
to somebody important.

Why else would Griffin
spend so many years

trying to keep it safe?

One man's trash...

Or one woman's.

Okay, fine.

Just 'cause my mom went through
all the trouble.

I'm telling you,
it's just gonna be more kale.

My SugarSprout dolls.

My uncle confiscated these
from us when we were kids.

He said if I didn't stop playing
with them at the dinner table,

that I would never see them again.

I guess you win.

Yeah. He passed away last year.

I guess my mom finally
went through his stuff.

Yeah, Curtis.

Hmm.

I don't recognize these.

Wait, you-you collected SugarSprouts?

Yes. And?

Is that Sunburn Sally?

The one that changes color in the sun?

They didn't sell that doll
in the stores.

Well, seems like somebody else
is a collector.

Yeah, my sister.

She, um, had me clipping UPCs for years

trying to find that one.

50 bucks. Cash.

Don't lowball me, McSugarSprout.

Playtime's over.
We got a fingerprint hit.

I didn't kill Miles Griffin.

Well, Miss Lipton,

we have some fairly heated
letters between the two of you,

and...

your prints are on the murder weapon.

Early 18th-century nautical sextant.

Of course my fingerprints are on it.

I sold it to Griff's museum last month.

And how about the letters?

Seems that the two of you were
after something else.

We took our work seriously,
Agent Knight.

Even as rivals.

Rivalries can get heated.

Things only got heated when I wanted.

So you and him...?

Why do you think
he kept all those letters?

He adored our... friction.

But it was all business.

I do not kill people over a find.

How about over a bone?

Is that why Griff was killed?

So you know about it?

Griff liked to brag

about a particular find of his.

A dinosaur bone.

I assumed it was just pillow talk

until a man called me
asking about it a few days ago.

About a dinosaur bone?

A collector named Fabian Druker.

So Druker wanted to buy it?

Things don't have to be
made of gold to be valuable.

Just how valuable are we talking here?

I could appraise the item for you.

Amazing.

You don't see something
like this every day.

Well, that's why you're here,
to give us some background and

to tell us if this
is worth killing over.

Definitely not Griff's usual lane.

Dino bones don't exactly scream
naval history, but

he did like wandering off the map.

Mid-Late Cretaceous, right?

Did a little archeology homework.

Looks like a bipedal metatarsal.

Hard to believe, isn't it?

What am I missing here?

This bone is from a Spinosaurus.

It's kind of a big deal.

Literally.

Spinosaurus bones are rare
to begin with, but this one...

truly one of a kind.

The kind worth dying over?

Considering its pristine condition

and scientific value...

I'm talking dollar value.

A large museum or research foundation...

could pay several million.

Easily.

Huh. Bethany Lipton's story checks out.

According to Griff's date book,

he and B.L. hooked up a lot.

Could be more reason to kill.

Well, except, uh, Miss Lipton's
alibi checks out as well.

Turns out that she was at a gala event

the night of the murder.

What about our, uh,
prospective bone buyer?

Fabian Druker.

In the country on a travel visa,

currently staying at the Ritz-Carlton.

Druker? Name rings a bell.

Austrian family.

Big-time Nazi supporters
during World War II.

They tried to rehab their name.
Spent decades.

Philanthropy, endowments,
famous art collection.

Hmm.

Griffin had lunch with "F.D."

the day before he was killed.

Let's go with Fabian Druker.

I had lunch with Mr. Griffin

at a rather gloomy café downtown

that didn't serve kopi luwak.

The fact that you Americans think

you're drinking coffee is a crime.

So is murder.

A shame. He was a nice man.

Why'd Griffin contact you?

Oh, you know, he had a piece

that he thought my family
would appreciate.

A dinosaur bone. Not our usual fare.

- He wanted to sell the bone?
- Yes.

So, I called Miss Lipton to see
if his query was worth my time.

You know, Bethany and I have, uh,

"worked" together before.

Hm. So, um... you and her...?

She had never seen the fossil,

but she vouched for Griffin, so we met.

He spoke to me about the piece, but it

did not interest me. I passed.

Million-dollar, one-of-a-kind
artifact didn't interest you?

Griffin refused to show me the piece.

I'm not gonna make an offer on something

I've never seen before.

So, we said goodbye
and never spoke again.

Until you came back the next night.

- Excuse me?
- You're the only person

that Griffin contacted about the bone.

Maybe he changed his mind
about selling, so...

...you broke in and killed him for it.

In addition to coffee,

you don't know your current events.

I keep these for my mother.

The Smithsonian Spring Gala.

The night Griffin was killed,
200 people can verify

that I was the life of the party.

Including Miss Lipton.

Well, that's convenient.

For both of you.

Well...

is there anything else?

Not right now, but, uh, you'll
want to stay in the country.

My dad had a Mustang just like this.

It was a little bit bigger.

'65. Skylight blue.

Bet all the girls wanted a ride.

Including my mom.

Ah. But, hey, the rest
is Palmer family history.

Let's talk our victim's history.

Right. Well, uh, Griffin's
assistant, Nora, helped me

to date all the items
from Griffin's cabinet,

which, in turn, helped me to
decode the rest of his journal.

This man's life

rivals even Dr. Mallard's,
if I may say so.

The journal also gives insight
to our mystery bone.

Something that Griffin was
truly obsessed with.

Obsessed enough to die for.

Yeah, according to the journal,

the bone was a gift
from Major Kirby, his mentor.

Apparently, Kirby found it

buried in a pile of rubble

when he was stationed
in post-war Germany.

Did the journal mention
a collector named Fabian Druker?

As in the Austrian Drukers?

Yeah. Griffin called them
about selling the fossil.

Selling it? What?

I don't, I don't think so. No.

Griffin spent years tracing its history.

He-he followed the bone
across, uh, borders,

wars, owners.

He kept coming back to the same idea:

history isn't meant to be buried.

He also wrote about

a moral obligation to return the bone

to its rightful owner.

Hello?

Agent Parker? You in there?

What's up, Curtis?

I've got news.

And a problem.

So, I dug deeper into our dino bone.

The density felt wrong
for something that's been around

100 million years.

At first, I blamed surface
erosion and UV exposure, but...

Skip the science essay?

I didn't want to carve up
a priceless artifact,

so I skimmed a whisper-thin sample using

fine-grade sandpaper.

Ran it through Mass Spec.

Ready for a plot twist?

Not a dinosaur bone?

Not a bone at all.

Calcium sulfate hemihydrate.

Plaster?

It's a cast.

Museum-quality, to be sure, but

anyone with museum hands
would know it's fake.

Nora.

Either she's surprisingly
bad at her job...

Or she lied to us.

Our victim would've
known it was a fake bone.

Why, uh, die to protect it?

Well, if it's a cast, it must
mean there's an original,

so there's a real bone
out there somewhere.

Well, it's looking like
Nora killed to get it.

Well, she already left the Navy Yard,

and her phone is turned off.

Wait, our killer lied
and then disappeared.

Danke schön.

Okay, newsflash,

the Druker clan is broke.

That was a bank in Zurich.

The family has nothing but
tax debts and crumbling castles.

So, if Druker wanted that bone,

he was not planning on buying it.

Yeah, but he had an alibi
for the murder.

I mean, he could've hired somebody else

to steal the real thing.

If there even is a real thing.

Doesn't matter. Someone thinks there is.

- And if Nora believes that...
- Yep.

...the real bone is still out there,

she'd look for another
clue trail to find it.

Thank you.

That was the museum.
Nora just called in sick.

Maybe she already found the next clue.

How? She was here all day.

Exactly.

I'm sorry, Agent Parker, but
we never took our eyes off her.

We wouldn't have let Nora

do anything bad right under our noses.

She only had access
to what we already had.

The fake bone, the-the knickknacks.

Right. Uh, Nora's role was
strictly informational.

Helping us decode the journal.
That's... Nothing more.

What else did the journal say?

Well, like I said, it had,
uh, Griffin's history,

the bone's history,
his mission to return the bone

to its rightful owner.

All things he'd want anyone
who found the real bone to know.

The grandson said, "Grandpa
Griff likes to teach lessons."

You think the journal contains
a second clue trail.

Nora must've decoded
something that we missed.

Get everything down to the garage, now.

Well, I don't know
why our victim hated computers.

So much less mess in digital.

Somewhere in this mess
is Griffin's next clue.

Which is why I have digitized
every knickknack

and journal entry.

Everything is tagged, dated,
and text-searchable.

For example, this, uh,
1965 Mustang convertible,

actually represents 1993.

Which is the year his wife died.

Yes, you know, the journal says
that they spent their

final weeks cruising around town
in their own Mustang

with the top down.

That's why every, uh, item here
tells a story.

Which one tells us
where our killer went?

Mm, not sure.

Plus, there are three items
from the cabinet

that we can't connect
to any journal entry.

Nora disappeared because
she saw something that we don't.

Or she has something that we don't.

Knowledge of Griffin.

She knows how he thinks.

And we know he had one item
for every year of his life.

Has anyone actually counted
the number of items?

One second, one second.

Okay, total is 66 items.

Griffin only lived to 63.

The three items that we can't match.

They don't belong.
Maybe that's on purpose.

The journal never mentioned

gardening shovel, bar of soap,
or a chestnut.

All right, start with chestnut.

Okay, chestnut is mentioned

only one time in the journal.

It's in a poem that Griffin wrote

to his daughter when she was seven.

"This a chosen place,

"along the rocky creek,

"a walk o'er top Beech's bridge,

dig below our chestnut's peak."

Beech Road. There's a Beech Road
in Rock Creek Park.

That could be the same thing.

Nora could've thought that the poem

was a map leading her there.

- Torres, with me.
- Wait, but I...

You and McGee head back to the museum.

Yeah, yeah, no. In case Nora
doubles back. Got it.

Knight looked pretty disappointed.

Think she was hoping for treasure.

Yeah, so am I, but only the kind
you can put in handcuffs.

Well, no sign of Nora.

No, but she's been here.

And she's been digging.

Maybe Nora's already found
whatever was hidden.

Or maybe she didn't know where to look.

Check it out.

Seriously?

"X" marks the spot?

You know, maybe Knight was right.

We need to dig.

No alarms. Doors are all unlocked.

I don't think we're alone here.

- This place is like a maze.
- Yeah.

Hope you read a plaque with a map.

Oh, yeah. Definitely not alone.

Nora came back to search.

Well, what, uh...
Think she found anything?

That's what scares me.

And now, I'm also scared of that.

Could this shovel be any smaller?

No, no. This is all wrong.

Uh, yeah. I'm the only one digging.

We shouldn't be digging at all.
The fossil's not here.

Well, what about the clues?

The journal just dragged us out here.

It did, but not for the treasure.

Griffin wrote about how history

"isn't meant to be buried."

It's meant to be seen, to be understood.

Then why give us a shovel?

To teach us another lesson.

And he also gave us a bar of soap.

We're supposed to get our hands dirty,

and then...

Wash them.

He's telling us to start clean.

To rethink everything.

I don't think the treasure's
hidden way out here.

The real thing is hidden
somewhere in plain sight,

where people can appreciate it.

The museum.

- Ah. Ah.
- What?

Nora. She must've figured out
that the real fossil wasn't here

and she waited for us to show up.

She gave herself a head start.

Federal agents. Don't move, Nora.

Show us your hands.

I can't.

She's not going anywhere.

And neither are you. Drop the weapons.

I'm so sorry.

We don't have what you want.

But the real thing is here,

and you're going to find it for me.

The doe-eyed assistant
and the Austrian Bond villain.

That's a very cute couple.

It's not what you think.
He followed me. I'm his hostage.

Enough. Where did he hide the bone?

- Double entendre alert.
- Where?

I told you,
Griff is teaching us a lesson.

He would've hidden
the real thing in plain sight.

Display cases, exhibits.

And you just watched me
search every single one of them.

Then I don't know.

That's too bad, for her.

Shoot.

Or shut your von Trapp.

Wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Can I say something real quick?

Listen, I know these places, all right?

Backwards and forwards.
When I was a kid, my father

dragged me to every museum ship
from Bangor to Key West.

Now, trust me when I tell you,
all these places

are the same, all right?

When-when people visit, they-they

skip the exhibits, they go
straight for the engine room.

If Griffin wanted
"hidden in plain sight"?

Bet that's where he'd put it.

There's still no answer
from Knight or McGee.

Well, keep trying.

Where's our ride?

Should be here any minute.

Okay, museum boy.

Get in there and find it.

And no hide-and-seek,
or your partner dies first.

Look, I hear you,
but you need to be aware,

engine rooms are not like
filing cabinets

that you can just flip through.

Okay? Now, once we get in there,

it's gonna be a jungle of machinery.

That bone could be hidden anywhere.

Like, crankshaft housing,
steam-line cradle...

- Quit stalling and find it!
- Look...

Then I suggest you hurry.

Now.

All right, here we go.

That's our ride?

Yikes. You guys are having
some car trouble.

- Not anymore.
- Thanks, Curtis.

Oh.

Uh...

Okay.

Huh. Anything to help.

Jess, you doing okay?

I officially hate ships
as much as Parker does.

Your partner needs a doctor.

Yeah, I need a miracle.

Wait a second.

Fuel lines.

Oh, you got to be kidding me.

Hey, I think I found it.

Bring it to me.

Uh, you know what? I'm gonna
need some help down here.

You, go.

Go.

You're gonna get us all killed.

If this is another stall...

It's not. Look.

Oh, my God.

All that talk of museums
and engine rooms,

I thought you were bluffing.

Yeah, well, I thought I was, too, but

then it hit me.

Fuel lines. Fossil fuel.

Hurry up!

Federal agents!

Don't move!

That's why. Go, go, go.

Jess, tell me you're good.

Not yet.

How about now?

Yeah. Pretty good.

You were working with Druker.

Every one of his calls to the
museum came through your desk.

You knew that he was after that fossil.

And also knew that
Griffin would never sell.

So, you killed him.

No, I would never.

Which part?

Yes, I lied about the bone,
about Druker calling,

and I did follow
the journal clues to the park

until I realized it was a dead end.

The real thing had to be
back on the ship,

so I slashed your tires and went there.

- With your partner, Druker.
- No.

I wasn't working with him.

I was trying to find the bone myself.

- To sell it?
- To protect it.

Same as Griff. He wouldn't have died

for that fossil unless
it truly meant something.

And the journal said he wanted
to find the true owner.

- Okay, who is the true owner?
- I don't know.

But it was Griff's life's work,

and I wanted to finish it.

I trusted him.

And why should we trust you?

You shouldn't.

I messed up, and I'm sorry,

but I didn't kill him.

Then help us prove it.

I wish that I could, but I have told you

everything that I know.

Okay.

- Hope you have a good lawyer.
- The bone,

the real one from the ship,

what happens to it?

Goes to its legal owner,

Griffin's last living relative,
his grandson.

Kevin? But he doesn't understand

what it is, what it means.

He'll sell it for a quick buck.

You don't get it.

The journal, the clue trails...

Griff did everything
he could to prevent this.

Kevin isn't worthy.

Hi. I'm supposed to pick up

some of my grandfather's
personal effects?

Or, as I like to call, junk.

Did you guys find his killer?

Yeah. We think so.

And we also finished
your grandfather's hunt.

Turns out there was treasure
at the end of this one.

That? Uh...

Like I said, it wouldn't be
anything valuable.

- Right. This.
- You got it?

Careful.

No, no, no. No, no, no.

Idiot.

Do you know how much
this thing is worth?

Yes, I do. And apparently, so do you.

No.

You knew from the beginning, didn't you?

No, it was Druker. He told me.

He told me, he said

my grandfather wouldn't sell,
and then...

and then he paid me to convince him.

Let me guess. That didn't go well?

I didn't mean to hurt him.

That was gonna be mine anyway.

You know? Why w-wouldn't he
just give it to me?

He couldn't.

You didn't go on the journey.

Come on.

Well, Nora was right.

Guess she finally told the truth.

Maybe we should return the favor.

I don't believe it.
You dropped the fake?

Oops.

I don't understand.

Why bring me down here?
Why tell me all this?

Because you still owe us something.

I already admitted to interfering

with a federal investigation

and destroying government property.

We're not talking about punishment.

When I x-rayed the real bone,

I found this pin driven inside.

Old-school field method.

Paleontologists did that

so discoveries could be
numbered and catalogued.

Except this one contained
more than just a number.

This bone is a part of a collection
believed lost after World War II.

Griff traced its history, and this pin

is the final chapter.

He traced it back to the Drukers.

They acquired it from
a Jewish family before the war.

Griff contacted Druker

looking for the info
of the original owners.

And Druker panicked.

The bone proved
the Drukers had stolen it

with Nazi help.

So, here's the deal.

As part of your plea deal,

you are going to finish Griff's work.

My family ran from a dictator,

and this bone survived another.

Get it back to the family it belongs to.

Is that the keychain we found
in Vance's desk?

Damn. I guess Parker called dibs.

Well, some things are worth keeping.

And some are worth selling.

My SugarSprout dolls are
up to $1,200 on eBay.

What are you talking about?
I thought we had a deal.

Oh. Well, you better start bidding.

Hey, you owe your mom and your uncle.

For more than just the dolls.

So, I looked into those glasses
that were in the box,

and turns out, they belonged
to my great-grandfather.

Oh, my God. This thing is up to $1,500.

So, I dug through
some old family photos,

and my grandfather wore
those glasses his entire life.

I mean, they saw the old country,
the journey to America...

Your great-grandmother naked.

They witnessed the start
of an American family, yes.

Okay, so what are you
gonna do with them?

- Are you gonna keep them?
- Oh, better than that.

I'm gonna continue
their history in style.

Mm-hmm.