All language subtitles for Bones S11E15 The Fight in the Fixer

Okay, here we go.
Christine's first report card.

- Lay it on me.
- In math,

her teacher gave
her an E-plus.

Wait a second,
I don't know what that means.

It's, like, one step up
from an "F."

That's bad.

No, "E," in this case,
stands for "exemplary."

It's the highest
possible grade.

Of course it does.
And it's E-plus, too, huh?

She also got an E-plus
in physical education.

That is something
I never achieved.

Lightning-quick reflexes.

Just like her dad, huh?

Fast like a flea.

Aw, you remembered.
Yeah, okay.

What about spelling?
I was horrible at spelling.

Thank God for computers,
'cause I, you know,

I couldn't even spell
the word "spelling."

Well, that's
just sad, Booth.

That's a joke.

Okay? Come on, what'd she get?

E-plus.

E-plus!

Actually, she got perfect
grades across the board.

This calls for a celebration.

Taking her out for
ice cream after dinner.

What is it?
A body was found in the Potomac.

It's being brought to the lab.
Well, that's not good,

because that means
the local PD moved the victim

from the crime scene, and I know
how much you hate that.

I do.

However, I'm not going to
allow this minor irritation

to get in the way
of my excellent mood.

I mean, our daughter
is a genius.

E-plus.

Two frat guys from Georgetown

found the body while
attempting a polar bear plunge

in the Potomac.

From what I can see
of the remaining tissue,

the victim was
a Caucasian male.

Big, too, at least
six feet tall.

Yeah, well, the
facial reconstruction

is gonna be a bit tough
without the mandible.

Whoa-ho-ho, nice bracelet.

I'm not sure who's got
more ice on them,

you or the victim.

Uh, the victim, obviously.

You like it?
I got it for Angie

as a desperate attempt
to apologize

for what a jerk
I've been recently.

It wasn't necessary.

You've... you've been through a lot.
I know,

but I just want you to know

that I'm trying and...

and I love you very much.

Okay, enough of
the lovey-dovey.

Honestly, I found you guys
more bearable

when you were unbearable.

Well, I for one,

am glad to see you more like
your old self again.

Now it's just Dr. Brennan's mood
I have to worry about.

Yeah, uh, there's no
way she can do an examination

on a human Popsicle.

According to my calculations,

at room temperature,
without forced convection,

it should take approximately

eight hours and 33 minutes
for the ice to melt.

Brennan's not gonna
want to wait that long.

Actually, I think
I have an idea.

So what are you thinking?

Homicide?
Accidental drowning? Suicide?

Well, we don't know, Aubrey,

till we get stuff back
from the lab, right?

Here are the pictures.

Ah, there you are.
Finally.

Hello.

Karen, great.
Yeah.

Okay, what are you doing here?

Does the BRIU have
an interest in the case?

Oh, no, uh, actually,

I don't know what case
you're referring to,

but if you need my help.

No, actually, you know, it's
probably just a suicide, so...

Oh, really?

'Cause given the weather,
I don't think so.

She doesn't think so.
Obviously.

No, see, suicide by drowning
decreases 72% in cold weather.

Behaviorally, we can't
control our reflex

to get out of icy water.

Unless you jump off the bridge,
and then you really don't

have a choice of getting out.

- Which bridge?
- Body was found in Rock Creek;

nearest bridge is
Theodore Roosevelt.

Oh, no.

See, the bridge of
choice for jumpers

is either the Duke Ellington
or the George Washington.

Besides, I mean,

look at this body.

Our victim's wearing a suit.

Looks nice, put together.

Nope. I think you've
got a body dump.

Okay, so that's great.

Thank you very much
for coming in.

If you don't have anything else
about the case, you can...

Oh, no, actually,

I-I came to see Agent Aubrey.

He's right here.

Me? Okay. What do you need?

Well, I have not had
my morning coffee yet,

and I thought maybe you
and I could go get some.

Together.

I already have coffee.

Well, maybe,
um, a rain check.

Tonight?

Excuse me?

She's asking you out on a date.

Mm-hmm. What do you say?

Oh.

I'm sorry, what?

What we've done is
we've hooked these vents up

to a metallurgical
blast furnace.

I happened to have
one lying around

from a previous experiment.

Is this the same furnace
that almost

burned down the lab last year?

Uh, different circumstances,
but yes.

I call her Smaug,

because this baby breathes fire.

According to my calculations,

it should take approximately

15.2 seconds
for the ice to melt.

What about the water
and particulate evidence?

Yeah, there's
a 400-gallon basin

below the grates that's
catching every last drop.

Proceed.

T minus three.

Two.

One.

It's working!

Applied science is
a beautiful, beautiful thing!

I must say,
that is excellent work.

Ooh.

Well done, Dr. Hodgins.

You are king of the lab
once again.

♪ Bones 11x15 ♪
The Fight in the Fixer
Original Air Date on May 12, 2016

♪ Main Title Theme ♪ The Crystal Method

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Ugh, God, just when I think
I've seen everything.

It's like
you're rootering

a pair of lungs.
Yeah.

The interesting thing is,
I'm not seeing any river water.

No dinoflagellates
or micro-algae

in any of this lung tissue.

Well, that means, then,

that that behavioral
analyst was right,

that this was a body dump.

So I'm guess things are
better between you and Hodgins?

Oh, yeah, they are.

It's just this is
totally not me.

Well, it's totally me,
so no complaining.

Yeah, I appreciate
that he's trying.

It's just, it's not
like it was before.

We're not...

intimate.

Give it time.

I'm sure he'll engage with you
when he's ready.

And you'll be right there
when he does.

Thanks.

Oh.

Oh, hey, what about...
what about her?

Her?

Yeah, for an I.D.

I mean, if a guy gets

a tattoo of a woman's face
on his arm,

then she probably meant
something to him, right?

You want to run your facial
recognition software

on the tattoo?

If we can find her,

then maybe she can
give us an I.D.

Okay, so when's the big date?

There's not gonna
be any date.

Mm, that's not
what I heard.

I heard you say "yes."

What was I supposed to say?
She blindsided me.

Who the hell asks someone out
in front of another person?

Well, you know, shrinks tend
to be a little bit crazy.

And you know what they say
about the crazy ones in bed.

No.

Look, things are going great
with me and Jessica.

I don't want to
mess that up.

You got something?
Yeah.

Angela's sending me, uh, an I.D.
of the tattoo of this lady,

Lissa Bowman,
Bethesda, Maryland.

Lissa Bowman-- why does
that name sound familiar?

Huh, maybe you had
coffee with her.

Ooh.

You're good, you know that?
Yeah. Mm-hmm.

All right, you mind
taking that one?

I'm gonna go, uh, sort out
this date thing with Karen.

No problem.

You better nip this
in the bud, huh?

Because, before you know it,
coffee turns into lunch,

and then lunch into dinner,

and then the candles
are burning low all night long.

Yeah, it's got to be Frankie.

He got that tattoo
when we were

vacationing down in
South Beach one year.

That's also where I was born.
Really?

So when did you first notice
your husband went missing?

A week ago.

I didn't really
think much of it,

'cause he's often
out of town for work.

Mm-hmm. And what kind
of work did he do?

Frankie was what you
would call a fixer.

And his clients were
nothing but top-shelf.

Politicians and CEOs,
athletes.

He even had a handful
of movie stars.

Right, okay.

So his job was to use
whatever means necessary

to make sure his client's
problems went away.

Frankie always tried to keep me
safe by not telling me

too much about
what he was doing.

I just wish
Frankie had

taken such good care of himself.

I'm gonna need to talk
to somebody at his work.

You should talk to Kerry,

his assistant.

I'll get you her number.

Right.

Here you go.

Agent Booth,

you find who did this,
you hear me?

You find them,
and you make them pay.

Dr. Brennan.

In examining the cleaned skull,

I identified some perimortem
stellate fractures

to the alveolar process,
the maxilla

and the inferior nasal conchae.

Fractures which
are indicative

of blunt force trauma.

I believe cause of death

was due to
intracerebral hemorrhage.

I concur.

Good work.

I see your daughter
did well.

Oh, yes.

We're very proud of her.

I, too, received nothing
but top marks at her age,

in every subject matter.

Of course,
standards were much higher

when I was in first grade.

A point of fact, I actually was
exemplary in all my subjects.

What do you mean
"standards were higher"?

Well, take this E-plus
Christine received in Art.

Look at that drawing.

The lines jitter.
The color palette

is either primary
or mud brown.

She hardly applied
any shadowing techniques at all,

which I certainly
did at her age.

Objectively speaking,
I'd have to give her work

a "G," for good.

At best.

Are you criticizing
my daughter's art?

And her math skills.

I mean, look at
that stick figure,

which I can only
presume is you.

It has 14 fingers.

And while polydactylism
is a real thing,

I hardly think it applies here.

Dr. Wells, you can go,

and have Dr. Hodgins swab
the skull for particulates.

Oh, I already did that
before I came in here.

But that shouldn't surprise you.

After all,
I am exemplary in all my work.

So, listen, about the whole

coffee thing this morning,
you know, my apologies.

I-I misunderstood.

The truth is, I'm...
I'm seeing someone.

No, I totally get it.
It's fine.

So no... no hard feelings?
No.

It's intriguing, but...

No, no hard feelings.

Wait, what's intriguing?

So you said
that you knew the victim,

Frank Kwiatowski?

What? Yeah.
No, sort of.

Uh, my-my father used his
services back in the day.

Ah, that's right.

Benjamin Aubrey, financier.

Arrested for running a
multimillion-dollar Ponzi scheme

and then running off to Croatia
instead of facing charges.

I see you
did your homework.

Well, it's just, I like to know
who I'm going out with,

or not going out with
as the case may be.

You must have some
profound daddy issues.

So why did your father
hire Kwiatowski?

You know, honestly, my father
never really talked to me

about his business, okay?

He just let me tag
along sometimes.

Fascinating.

Your daddy issues, I mean.

It explains why
you're such a pleaser.

Why you say yes to things
that you don't need or want,

like coffee.

Have you ever seen a therapist?

You know, I think I could be
of real help to you.

I'm gonna take that as a no.

Look, we deal in delicate
matters, but to be honest,

I can't think of anyone who had
the balls to mess with Frank.

He could be intimidating.

Did you guys, uh,
remodel recently?

No. Maybe, like,
five years ago. Why?

No reason. I just...

I used to come here
a lo... long time ago.

I see you've expanded.

A conference room,
second office.

Oh, so business is good.

Frank was outstanding at his job.
Oh.

How was he as a boss?
Good enough.

Well, then I'm curious
why you waited

a week to report
him missing.

Because I was
in Atlanta working.

Look, I'm telling you,
if you want them,

I've got car rental
and hotel receipts.

Not to mention
a dozen eyewitnesses.

Well, speaking
of paperwork,

I'm gonna need copies of
all of Frank's case files,

including his computers.

Be my guest.

Go at it.

Okay, come on, Kerry.

You and I both know that those
aren't the real files.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

You know, as a kid,

growing up,
I was pretty curious.

Tended to snoop
around a lot.

In fact,

that's probably
why I became a cop.

Oh, no, I think you became a cop
because your father's

a pathological liar and
it made you question everything.

Or that's one opinion.

Anyway,

as I was saying,
I tended to snoop around a lot,

especially when I had
to entertain myself

because my father
was too busy for me.

That's how I know
that mirror is a two-way.

There's a hidden camera
in that lamp.

And...

while a lot of these
fixtures have changed--

new sink, new faucet--

there's still one thing
that hasn't changed.

Where your boss hides

all of his most
important files.

Hey. I finished my analysis

of the trace
found in the skull wound.

I found particulates
of northern white ash.

So the blunt force object

that bludgeoned the victim
in the face is made of wood.

Dr. Brennan, I found distinct

remodeling on the lateral
surface of the victim's

left proximal tibia.

This damage appears

to have been inflicted
approximately one year ago.

I'll inform Booth so he can
check hospital records.

Hey, by the way,

I looked at the e-mail
of the photo you sent me

of your niece's art grade,
but without the original, I...

Wh-What are you doing?

Excuse me.
What photo are you referring to?

Uh, nothing?

Or maybe not.

It's-it's not a big deal.

I mean, Oliver,
he just, he asked me

to examine a jpeg of
his niece's report card.

Your niece's report card?

So Oliver was

under suspicion
that the little tyke

actually changed
a minus sign into a plus,

in order to dupe
her simpleton parents.

I take it

that you proved
Dr. Wells'

suspicions to be
misguided at best.

Uh, no, actually,

it looks like that's
exactly what she did.

I mean, it's impossible
to determine

without further analysis,

but based on the shade
and the thickness

of the actual stroke,

I mean, I would say that
two different pens were used.

Anyway, as you can see,
no big deal.

Just doing a little
favor here for a friend.

Dr. Brennan,
let me explain.

After our last talk,

I felt I had been
overly critical,

so I came to your office
to apologize,

and that's when I noticed
the inconsistency.

Of course, to my credit,
my hunch was correct.

My daughter did not cheat.

Well, evidence would
say otherwise.

I thought, as
a scientist,

you would want
to know the truth.

Wow, are you guys finding
as much dirt as I am here?

Uh, yeah, great big
heaping mounds of it.

I am looking
at a wiretap transcript

of a Ukrainian ambassador
who was moonlighting

as a... as a arms dealer.
Ooh.

That's nothing. I mean,
I've got a lobbyist

who paid our victim to blackmail
a prep school headmaster

so his doofus son
could get in.

Huh. Uh-oh.

You find something?

Yes and no.

What do you got?
It's your father's file.

I mean, you should be
the one to open it.

No.

My father has
no relevance to the case.

He's been out of the country
for 18 years.

It would be unethical
for me to read it.

But aren't you
the least bit curious?

Not at all.

Whoa, wait a second.

Hold up, guys.
Look, the lab found

evidence that our victim's left
leg was shattered a year ago.

Wait, shattered, like a
car accident shattered?

They're saying
it was a blunt force,

so it would be
a bat or a pipe.

Okay, I'm sorry,
but are we just gonna breeze

right by your father's file?

Is that what we're doing here?
We're working.

Okay, Karen?
Yeah, I know.

Just, sitting on a trove
of paternal secrets

while working is-- I'm just
gonna throw it out there--

odd, but carry on.

Thank you.

So maybe the person
who shattered Frank's leg

came back to finish
the job, right?

That doesn't make sense.
Why would the killer

wait a whole year?
Whoa, look at this.

Frank worked for this woman

who was divorcing
a low-life nightclub owner

named Jimmy Nasari.

Nasari, yeah.

I know this guy.

He's a mid-level
wannabe mobster.

He's been trying to make a
name for himself for years.

Right, Jimmy's go-to move

was, uh, breaking a man's legs
with his signature bat.

That makes sense,
especially as the wood found

in the victim's face
was white ash.

Whoa, look
what I found. Okay.

Nasari had a payout to his wife.

It was court ordered last week
for $12 million.

All thanks to the work
of our victim.

Wait a second.

You're saying that that squint

accused Christine
of cheating? Who?

Dr. Wells.
Dr. Wells?

That goofy tall guy
who no one likes?

Dr. Wells had Hodgins examine
a photo of the grade.

Hodgins is in on this?

Well, he didn't know
what he was testing,

but his analysis
suggests that a minus sign

was changed into a plus.

That can't be right.
I mean, Christine wouldn't...

What subject was it for?
Art.

Booth,

Christine did not forge
a school document

for the sake of a grade.

Of course she didn't.

It's ludicrous.
Absolutely.

Our daughter is not
capable of such fraud.

Well, she's six years old.
It's impossible.

Of course not. Really?

Don't know who you're talking
about. I never met the guy.

All right,
I asked you one question.

I already have you on
obstruction of justice.

Look at the picture
again and think.

Yeah, all right, fine,
I knew the guy.

But I didn't kill him.
What, do I look stupid to you?

Your pronounced browridge is
suggestive of Neanderthal man,

so yes.

You're kidding me, right?
Get the hell out of here.

This is what
I'm not understanding.

Help me out here.

Why is it that after
you break Frank's legs,

he doesn't go to the cops?

Perhaps he doesn't press charges
because you threatened

to kill him if he ever talked?

Yeah, right.
I wish that's what he did.

I don't understand.

Why would you want him
to press charges?

Look, Frank Kwiatowski is

no angel, all right?
Instead of shutting the hell up

or going to the cops,
you know what he did?

He waged an all-out war
against me.

Well, what exactly did he do?
What didn't he do?

He used his local cop contacts
to shut down

half my clubs
on some zoning violation.

And then he goes
to see my mother,

who's got Alzheimer's disease,
starts gas-lighting her,

telling her things
like I can't afford

to keep her in a
nice home anymore.

And then my kid
gets expelled from St. Malo's

for having dope on him,
which I know Frank planted.

You want me to keep going?

So you admit you have
multiple motives to kill.

I didn't do it, all right?

You were scared of him.

I'm not scared of anyone,
you hear me?

All right, look, I need to know
your whereabouts last week.

That's easy. I was down at
the shore at one of my hotels.

Hey, I found
fresh duck feces

on the tread of
the victim's shoe.

I trust

you're telling me
this for a reason,

other than to make
me say "yuck."

So the feces belonged
to the greater scaup, uh,

which is found only in a
few places in the D.C. area.

The first one is
Anacostia Park.

Second one is the
tidal basin, which is

near the FDR Memorial.

Roaches Run Waterfowl Sanctuary.

Which means
the victim was at

one of those places at
or near time of death.

Good work.

How's my beautiful
and talented wife coming along

with the victim's computer?

Not great.

Frank encrypted his files,
so I'm using

counter-steganography to see
if I can gain access to it.

Let me know when you're done.

Yeah.

Uh, Angie.
Yeah?

I have something for you.

Oh.

So the bracelet looked

so good on you
that I thought I should

get you something
to go along with it.

Oh, my God.

Wow.

Gosh, that's really
so beautiful,

but, um, this is too much.

I don't... I don't need
any gifts.

No, uh, take it, Angie.

I mean, look,
I-I was really terrible to you,

and you deserve this,
so go ahead and-and try that on.

It's-it's very sweet,

and, uh, it's
a generous thought,

but I don't...
I don't...

Angela, please, just try it on.

Okay.

Wow.

Yeah, it's-it's awesome.

You look amazing.

Awesome.

So Hotel Victoria
in Atlantic City

just confirmed
Jimmy Nasari's alibi.

Don't worry, I think
I found something.

I'm not worried.

Well, you're eating
a jelly doughnut

in the middle
of the afternoon,

and eating is your
coping mechanism, so...

Or, yeah, maybe I'm just hungry.

Oh, okay.

Hey, speaking of
being in denial,

I really think you should
read your father's file.

Okay, have you read it?

Yes.

Is there anything in it
related to the case?

No.

Great.

Then I'm not reading it.

Your discipline is terrifying.

Thank you.
What do you got?

Okay, so this is a client
who has an office

off of Anacostia Park,
which also happens to be

where the greater scaup
duck congregates.

Are you serious?

Abraham Froome,
the CEO from,

uh, Froome Tire Centers?

Th-This guy's a billionaire
ten times over.

Well, it seems like
Froome hired our victim

to retrieve some sort
of blackmail sex tape.

And then the
blackmailer also sent

several still photographs

as proof of
what he still possesses.

Oh!

Wow. Oh, man.

Super rich really aren't
like the rest of us, are they?

Well, it just seems like
Grandpa wanted his nuk-nuk.

So let me get this
straight here, Mr. Froome.

You hired Frank because
you were being blackmailed?

Yes.

Somehow someone made a video

while I was staying
at the Hotel Poggio.

The blackmailer sent me
an e-mail demanding

I pay him $2 million.

I asked Frank
to handle it for me.

And then what happened?

Well, at first,
Frank told me not to pay.

He said he would take care
of retrieving the video.

When he came back
several days later,

h-he was badly beaten
about the face.

So you're saying

the blackmailer assaulted him.

That's when Frank told me
I should pay,

that this blackmailer
was insane,

someone who would
not listen to reason.

Last time I saw Frank
was to give him the money

so that we could
pay this guy off.

Wait, so are you telling me

that Frank had $2 million
in cash on him

the day that he died?

Any luck tracking
down an I.P. address

on that e-mail the
blackmailer sent?

No, unfortunately,
it's a dead-end.

He or she used
an overseas proxy,

so there's no way
to trace it.

What about the
still itself?

You just can't get
enough of that, can you?

What can I say?

Fetishes are my fetish.

Seriously, though,

I just don't get it.
I know, right?

I mean, if this guy
really wanted to be

in diapers so badly,

he should have just waited
a couple of years.

So, uh, what-what have you got?

Okay, so to be honest,

this is still a work
in progress, but I've applied

an enhanced-resolution
pixel algorithm

to scale up the mirror image
in the background.

Well, the mirror looks like
it's reflecting something.

Yeah, the closet where the
blackmailer took the video from.

Now I'm gonna amp up
the color balance

and brighten
the pixelation.

Now, unfortunately, you still
can't make out the face.

No.

But look at chest level.
It looks like a name tag.

Can you enhance even further?

Uh, no, unfortunately.

But, look, we know the guy's
wearing a green jacket

with a yellow stripe
on its sleeve.

The color scheme
of the Hotel Poggio.

Right, which means
the blackmailer

must be an employee.

Given Mr. Froome's statement

that the last time
he saw the victim,

he was badly beaten
on the face,

I reexamined the
bones for evidence

of a physical
altercation.

You're referring to the victim's
fight with the blackmailer?

Yes. As you can see,

I found bruising to all five
right proximal phalanges.

The placement
of this micro-fracture

on the thumb is strange.

The victim was
an experienced fighter.

Why would he hit
using the top of his fist?

Yes, it's true,

the victim was experienced,

but even the best in their field
can become overconfident

and, quite frankly,
sloppy from time to time.

Dr. Wells, I'm only going
to say this one last time.

My daughter did not cheat.

Then there's no reason
not to let Dr. Hodgins

test the ink to
confirm that I'm right.

What about the teeth?

Did I reexamine them?
Yes, of course.

Dental damage
is quite common

in instances of assault.

Please note the chip on the
left maxillary first bicuspid.

Suggestive of recent trauma.

Also, I see something else.

Here on the lingual surfaces

of the central
maxillary incisors,

there appears to be
an acid-like discoloration.

Oh.

It's Booth.

H-He's picking me up.

It appears he has a lead
on Abraham Froome's blackmailer.

While you're gone, I'll
have Dr. Hodgins swab

to see if we can discern
what damaged the teeth.

And after
Dr. Hodgins is finished,

have him analyze the ink
on my daughter's report card.

An excellent idea.

Perhaps you'd like to place
a little friendly wager

over who is correct.

Bones, you got to be
kidding me, right?

You made a bet
with this creep?

Booth, it's not a bet
if you know you're going to win.

Aha, you know,
that's funny,

because that's what gambling
addicts say all the time.

Well, if it's any consolation,
it's not a monetary bet.

That would be insensitive
and too close to home.

Okay, so what is it, huh?
You're not gonna end up

with a tattoo of this
guy's face or something?

No, of course not,
because I'm going to win.

Okay, you know what?

I don't want to talk
about this anymore.

Do me a favor, open up
the file, see what we got.

Fine, but I'm going to win.

Okay, Valon Dudeshev.
Yes.

He is a bellhop
at Hotel Poggio.

Right, I called the
manager at the hotel,

asked if any
of his employees

showed any signs
of being in a fight.

And Valon showed
such evidence?

No, not exactly.

See, he hasn't come into
work for the past week.

The last time anyone saw
or heard from him

was just before
our victim was killed.

Okay, Valon's
apartment number is 447.

Right here.

Okay, I just want you
to stay back.

I don't think
he's gonna come in quietly.

Oh, Booth.

I think I hear
someone inside.

FBI.

Okay, stand back.
I think he's coming.

Hello?

Valon Dudeshev?

Uh, maybe. Who is it?

It's the FBI.

We need to ask you
some questions.

Okay, ask.
No, open the door,

and we'll ask questions.

No, no, no, no.

I-I answer from here,
like this.

No, no, no, no, no, no.
You're gonna open the door.

If you don't,
I'm gonna break it down.

All right, I'm kicking it in,
in three, two, one.

I tell you, I did nothing.
I am victim here.

Really? You're the
victim? All right.

Then do you want to explain
this little, uh,

blackmail video
that you made?

See the stills that
we pulled off it?

So you want to
explain this, huh?

You not understand.

This is very bad man.

He is very wealthy,
but no tip.

This is not reasonable.

You blackmailed him
because he didn't tip you?

Blackmail is very harsh.
I only make video

and suggest good decision
for family.

I'm sorry,
so what the hell happened?

Frank slipped you the dye
after he handed over the cash?

I do not know who this Frank is
you talk about.

Frank. This man, Frank.

That's the guy
you beat up.

You told him to
go get the cash,

and then you killed him.

No, I kill no one!

Last week, I come home,
this man is on couch.

He has gun in hand.

Right, you got into a fight.

First, he take video I make,
then he rob me.

Take my cell phone,

my-my computer,
everything.

Why?

'Cause he crazy.

Then... he tell me to get
in the tub with purple dye.

If not, he shoot me.

What about the money?

No, no money!

I am victim here.

Why else would I look like this?

Dr. Hodgins, do you have
the results from your swab

of the lingual surfaces
of the central incisors?

Yes, I do,

but I owe you an apology.

I had no idea

that that report card
was Christine's.

Does this mean
you have completed

your analysis of the ink?

What? No.
I-I didn't even start it.

I mean, look,
Oliver tried to convince me

that you were on board,

but do not worry, okay?

I know that that was a lie.
It is not.

Please, run the test.

Seriously?
Mm-hmm.

Yeah, no, I mean,
if that's what you want.

Yes.

And...

what about the swab
of the teeth?

Right, yeah.
So, uh, what I found was

a combination of
hydrochloric acid,

potassium chloride

and sodium chloride,

or more commonly known
as gastric acid.

Meaning the victim regurgitated
around time of death.

Yeah, and since I don't think
this guy was the bulimic type,

I had Cam test for poison.

And what did she find?

No poison.
Oh.

But she did find
trace amounts of ketamine.

Which means that
our killer tried

to roofie our P.I.
before giving up

and just whacking him
in the face

with some blunt force object

made out of wood.

Actually, I'm not so sure
that's what happened.

Okay, let me get
this straight.

Your theory is that the victim
was given the ketamine

in order to disorient him, but
upon feeling the effects...

He ran to the nearest sink

in order to purge the drug
from his system.

Right.

Okay, so this is the
rendering of the victim

and the sink
in his office.

Which is made
of white ash,

same as the particulates

found in the skull fragments.

Now all we need to do
is make the avatar throw up

and simulate the head
smashing into the sink.

Uh, sorry, no,
can't do that.

Which part?

Uh, the smashing of the
skull is no problem,

but the vomiting?

No way.
Why not?

Vomiting is disgusting.

Angela, you have created
countless reenactments for me--

stabbings, shootings,
even beheadings.

But now you're saying
no to regurgitation.

Girl's got to have
her standards.

Okay, then the head trauma
alone will have to do.

Oh. Looks like
we have a match.

You got anything?
No.

No blood evidence.

But based on the scratches
to this wood,

I'd say this is
definitely where it happened.

Who had access to this office?
What do you mean?

Well, I mean, you've got a key,
don't you?

Yeah, but so what?

I was in Atlanta.

Plus, Frank always
kept the door unlocked,

so a friend or client could
come by any time they want.

Dr. Brennan, I trust
you put Dr. Hodgins

in his place and he's
proceeding with his analysis?

I have, although I am concerned

that this wager is
becoming a distraction.

Never.

In fact, allow me to show
you my latest discovery.

Please note the, oh, so
subtle antemortem damage

adjacent to the left
zygomaticofacial foramen.

Interesting.

These micro-fractures
are consistent

with a fist
striking the skull.

But the question remains:
who inflicted this damage?

The victim claimed
it was his blackmailer,

but that is illogical.

Why? Because the blackmailer
was dyed purple?

Or perhaps he dyed
himself purple?

An action so idiotic,
it was in fact genius.

No, just idiotic.

I take it you have a
better explanation?

What if the damage to the
victim's first proximal phalanx

was self-inflicted?
I don't follow.

I'm positing that the victim
caused both injuries to himself.

And you thought my
scenario was idiotic.

Why would someone punch
himself in the face?

Oh, uh, actually,
I might have an answer for that.

So we know the
bellhop claimed

the victim stole his
cell phone, his computer,

basically anything
that connected him

with the outside world.

Yes, by his account,

he was dyed purple
and then robbed.

Right.

And since I don't have any
of his electronics to analyze,

I thought that I could at least
confirm the date and time

that his online presence
went dark.

If they all happened
simultaneously...

It would confirm

his account of the events.

Yeah.

Okay, so the bellhop's

cell phone,
Twitter account,

tablets, I.P. addresses

all went dark around
6:43 p.m. on Friday.

So the bellhop
was telling the truth.

And that's not even
the best part.

Abraham Froome's bank accounts
show that he withdrew $2 million

the day after Valon
went off the grid.

So the victim lied.

He secured the video,

but he kept
the money for himself.

And he bruised
and bloodied his own face

in order to sell his story.

Hey.

Did some digging around for
Froome's missing two million,

I found something I think
you're gonna want to see.

Kerry Napoli's
bank statement.

Well, where's
two million?

All I see is a
thousand dollars here.

You got to go to the second
page, okay, third line down.

Look at the bank fee
for $62.58.

Safety deposit box.

Ten by ten inches.
She just got it a week ago.

Big enough to hold
two million.

Bring her in, will you?

What the hell?

You had no right to get into
my safety deposit box.

There was no probable cause.

One of your cases,
a-a few years back,

you and Frank helped
an Omani prince

beat a drunk driving
manslaughter charge in Jersey.

You're kidding, right?

The Patriot Act?
That's how you got a warrant?

See it turns out,
our friends

at Homeland Security were
curious about what was inside.

They wanted to make
sure you weren't

aiding and abetting
a known terrorist.

Yeah.

Look, I opened
that safety deposit box

because that's what
Frank wanted.

He had me put
the money in there.

Because you were
having an affair.

Frank's plan was for us
to leave the business

and move to Amsterdam.

Maybe South America.

Why didn't you tell us
about this sooner?

Why do you think?

Look, I know this looks bad,
but I swear,

I was just doing
what Frank told me to do.

And what about Frank's wife?

Was she aware of the affair?

Honestly, I don't know.

Kerry, we're gonna need

to hold you here
until further notice.

Fine.

But I would like to speak
to an attorney.

Hey, Dr. B, I got results for
both of the tests you ordered.

What do you mean, both?

I thought we were just
waiting on the ink.

We were, but then I found
something probative

that you missed.
That's impossible.

I haven't missed anything.

Look here.

We know the victim's head
was driven into his own sink.

However, what you failed
to do was closely examine

the posterior surface of
the skull for any damage

due to a forward
thrusting blow.

And as you can see,

there is
a faint scratch adjacent

to the nuchal crest
of the occipital bone.

I see. And this scratch was
likely caused by the killer?

Which results
would you like first?

The swab or the ink analysis?

I'll let Dr. Wells decide.

The ink analysis.

Okay, so I ran
a thin layer chromatography

on the actual plus sign.

And then,
to confirm the results,

I actually processed it through

imaging electro-spray
ionization, as you can see.

The results
were definitive.

The plus sign was made up
of two different inks.

As a gentleman,
I will do you the courtesy

of not saying "I told you so."

Even though you just did.

Dr. Hodgins,
what of the test

that actually matters,

the swab results
from the occipital?

So, the mass-spec
found evidence

of zirconium dioxide
and nine karat gold.

So the victim was
likely scratched

by some cheap,
gaudy jewelry made of

low-grade gold
and cubic zirconia.

I'll let Booth know right away.

All right, just listen to me,
all right?

Hold on for a second, okay?

If you play ball with me,

none of this is gonna make it
to the papers, all right?

Great.

Okay, you'll be hearing
from me soon. Thanks.

Booth, what is going on?
I just looked in interrogation.

I thought you were bringing
in the wife, Lissa Bowman.

Oh, yeah, I was,
until I took a look

at her monthly
credit card statement.

Take a look at that, huh?

Ten times more than my mortgage.
Okay, she's rich.

So what?
Exactly, she's rich.

Okay, rich people
don't go around

wearing nine karat gold
or cubic zirconia.

Only young women
wear that.

Yeah, but she's
got a motive.

Her husband was
having an affair.

Kerry Napoli's got an alibi.

Does she?
I don't think so.

Kerry, I'm Agent Booth.

I have some questions for you.

Agent Booth, before
you say another word,

I'll have you know
my client is willing

to confess to her part

in robbing Mr. Froome.

And what about
murdering your boss?

I loved Frank;
we were going to spend

the rest of our lives together.

I don't buy it.
You're a P.I.

You're not some
naive little girl

who believes in
happily ever after.

You killed him and you took the
money when you had the chance.

Really? That's your theory?

Well, there's just
one little problem.

I've got a dozen witnesses
that saw me in Atlanta that day.

Right, your alibi,
but you see,

here's the thing.

See, your witnesses
are your clients.

So what?
So...

I know you have dirt on every
single one of your clients.

You blackmailed them
for an alibi.

He's lying.

There's no way
you can prove that.

I just talked
to one of your clients,

and when I told him that
you couldn't extort him anymore,

let's just say he was
singing a different tune.

You're bluffing; you're just
trying to get me to confess.

Bluffing?

No, I'm not bluffing.

I don't need a confession.

See, I have evidence,
means and motive.

Which means you're under arrest.

This is nice,

and a long time coming.

In fact, I would like to
propose a toast to Hodgins.

It's great to see you
out and about again.

Here, here.

Cheers.

Good to have
you back, old man.

And to Angela, for forcing
Hodgins to get out and about.

Thank you. It was not easy.

Yeah, how exactly
did you do that?

Oh, by giving away the jewelry
that, uh, I gave her.

Yep.

I have to say, I think
these look pretty fab on me.

And the only way that
Hodgins can get them back

to return them is
by going out with me tonight

and three more times
this month.

Drives a hard bargain, huh?

Well, until then,

these babies are mine.

Hi, there.
I'm so sorry to interrupt.

I'm Camille Saroyan.

I don't think
we've officially met.

You must be Karen Delfs.

Yes, nice to meet you.

And so weird,
because I feel like I know you,

since I've read
your psychological profile.

Can I speak to you for a second?

Absolutely.
Be right back.

Bye.

Okay, what is going on?

You're not gonna ask me
to coffee again, are you?

No.

Get over yourself.

I actually found a date for
tonight, thank you very much.

He's right over there.

Really? Wow.

Yeah. To be honest
with you, he's...

he's dumb as a box of hair,

but, you know,
beggars can't be choosers.

Besides, not like
I want something long-term.

I'm just sort of looking for one
last fling before I leave town.

I'm sorry, you
going somewhere?

Oh, I'm being transferred
to Kansas City on Monday.

Really?
Yeah.

I had no idea.
Well.

Listen, why don't you let me,
uh, buy you a drink

before you hit the road.

No, no, no. I really,
um, I have to get going,

but I think you need
to take a look at this first.

Karen, I already
told you, look,

I'm not reading
this file, okay?

What happened with my
father, it's in the past.

I'm-I'm over it.

No, see,
it's not in the past.

This file was started
six months ago.

Your dad isn't
abroad anymore.

He's here.

He's in D.C.

And the person
that he's investigating...

it's you.

What's going on?
Are you okay?

No, I'm not.

I lost my bet
with Dr. Wells,

and as a result,
I have to pay up.

Great. What is it?
What do you have to do?

It's not funny.

I'm now the voice
mail on his phone.

This is what he
had me record.

Hmm.

Okay. "Hello.

"You've reached the voice mail
for Dr. Oliver Wells,

"the most brilliant

"forensic anthropologist
in the history

of the Jeffersonian."

Bones, this is, like,
two pages long.

How can you do that?
It's humiliating.

And what's worse
is that tomorrow

you and I will have
to have a conversation

with Christine
about cheating.

No, we don't.

Yes, we do.

The grade was altered, Booth.

It was scientifically proven.

Uh-uh, you're looking
at it all wrong.

Turn the report card over.
Look at the teacher's signature.

Ink. Ink, ink, color, color.
Okay. What?

Oh, wait.

It appears the signature
is made up of the same ink

that was used to
complete the plus sign.

Exactly.
And you really think

that our little girl
would be able to, what,

forge an adult's signature?

Of course not.

I talked to the teacher today,
Mrs. Gallagher,

and she told me
that she ran out of ink

halfway through
the report card.

So she picked up another pen.

And finished
what she intended to do,

and that was give our brilliant
little kid an E-plus in Art.

I knew it!

What? What?
What? What?

I knew it. I knew it!

Yeah!
See, you should admit it.

Admit it
that your science is bunk.

Booth, no, technically,
the science was not,

but I will concede I did not
see the complete picture.

What are you doing?
I'm calling Dr. Wells.

Uh, he needs to change his
voice mail immediately.

Hello. You
have reached the voice mail...

Okay, Bones, you can
fast-forward that

by just pressing the pound...
No, hold on.

I want to hear it. I...
You have to admit,

I have an excellent voice.

What?
Are you kidding me?

Yes, it's quite sonorous.

Sonorous? What is that?

Sonorous.
What do you mean?

Bypass it.
Press pound once.

No, Booth, shh.

If you keep talking...

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

What's that mean?