All language subtitles for Elementary.S03E17.720p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-Juggalotus

(door opens)

Shouldn't be more
than an hour, okay?

Last time, it was
20 minutes. Before then,

it was just a moment.
We are going backwards here.

Your obsession with time
speaks as to why

this experiment is worthwhile.

I guarantee you
that making a homemade lightbulb

is not worth the cost
of a new electrical panel.

You're baiting me.

A xenon arc lamp
of this size is unheard of.

Had my design been successful,

every mental health benefit
of sunlight

would have been ours to enjoy
at any hour of the day or night.

Day and night being concepts
which would have become

devoid of meaning
within these walls.

Well, it didn't work,
and I cannot find

my new scarf anywhere.

The paisley one?
I threw that out.

It was covered
in chewed-up

plantain and saliva.
Not that I recall.

The pit viper incident
last week.

I needed a poultice.

Oh, and so you used my...

My mother gave me that scarf.

I was gonna wear it
to our lunch tomorrow.

Well, that's curious.
What is?

Well, as well as being
an enthusiastic practitioner

of maternal judgment,
Mary Watson is also a model

of consistency.
You don't usually dine until

the third Monday of each month,
so why the change?

All I know is that
she sounded unhappy

when she called me, so I thought
I'd buy myself some grace

by wearing the present
that she gave me.

Oh, well, then I did you
a favor. When confronted

with the profundity of her
sartorial error, she would have

no doubt have questioned your
taste as well as her own, so...

You know,
just go fix the light.

(dance music playing)
WOMAN: I swear, he's such
a creeper. Like I'm really

supposed to believe
Dennis just happened to go

to the same random club
as me tonight? I'm telling you,

one day they're gonna
find my skeleton

propped up on his futon.

Hold on. I hate this song,
and I'm, like, lost as hell.

(music continues quietly)

(gas hissing)

Hey.

Hey, are you okay?

Oh, my God.

You guys got here fast.

We were already awake
when you texted.

Early to bed, early to rise.

A life without electricity
confers certain advantages.

So what have we here?

Road rage, it looks like.

The vic is Allie Newmeyer--
college kid from Yonkers.

Given the car, the clothes,
I'd say she got lost

on her way home from
partying, ran the stop sign,

T-boned the perp,
and he caved her skull in.

Hmm. Paint transfer
give you anything?

The height and color tell us

we're looking for
a white van or truck,

but that's all
that tells us anything

about who
we're looking for.

No traffic cams, no witnesses.

Nevertheless, you seem to have
the matter well in hand.

You begging off?

From what?
The issuance of an APB?

A more thorough canvassing
of the neighborhood?

Respectfully, whether
you're scoring

on novelty or complexity,
this crime scene

doesn't really rate, does it?

Take a look at the body.

Detective...
Would you just
take a look at the body?

Would it not have been
simpler just to tell us?

What?

This woman wasn't just murdered.

She was rapidly
turning into a mummy.

You're not gonna believe
what did this to her.

Refrigerant?
Refrigerant.

Lab gave you
the mass spec results?

No, but I've
seen it before.

Air conditioning repairman
came into the E.R.

He was draining a condenser and
spilled some fluid on his arm.

Mm, I just knew.

Don't sulk.
Tell us which variety.

R22. Nasty business.

Caused that medical
defatting you see there.

Not a bad way to leech
every last drop

of moisture out of human flesh.

Would have been agonizing
if she wasn't already dead.

So you know the order
of events, too.

Well, her facial musculature
was slack, which means

that she wasn't suffering
at the moment of death.

I can give you
my best guess about

the murder weapon
if you want it.

An old tire iron. Little
bit of rust in the wound.

Judging by the angle,
I'd say you're looking for

a big right-handed guy--
tall, strong.

Shouldn't be more than
a million people

fitting that description
in New York.

Body and clothes were dusted.

No prints.
I wish I could give you

something else
to narrow it down.

The formulation
of the coolant may suffice.

There can't be
that many people

toting around
large quantities of R22.

We'll need to compile
a list of businesses which house

caches of refrigerant--
HVAC repair companies,

chemical plants and of course
any food distribution warehouses

in the vicinity of the accident.
Shall we?

Oh, you should. I can't.

I have that lunch with
my mother, remember?

Don't look so glum.

I'm the one
who has to sort through

thousands of Bronx meatpackers.

You only have to contend
with one small vegetarian.

Mom, did you not get my text?
I told you I was gonna be late.

I had a hair appointment.
I couldn't move it.

You're busy, too, I see?

Yes, new case, but I'll
catch you up another time.

This probably isn't
the best place.

It's just as well.
I have to get going

and I should
just get right to it.

You have to talk
to your brother.

Why?

He's having an affair.

What?

Six months after the wedding,
and already this.

He's going to ruin his marriage.

Where is this coming from?
Did he say something?

You know I went to see them
the other week.

He seemed happy.
Gabrielle seemed happy.

Like newlyweds, but...

I took a car to Faneuil Hall
to shop one day.

When I came back, I saw Oren
kissing some blonde woman

in the driveway.

Well, what did he have to say
for himself?

I didn't let him know I'd seen.

You didn't talk to him?

I couldn't.

Oren hardly
spoke to me or Dad

after your father's affair,
and I wasn't to blame.

But I understood.

It's a hard thing to talk about.

Yes, it is, but I don't see how
me getting in the middle of it

is gonna make it any better.
Except maybe for you.

What do you want
me to do here?

He listens to you, Joan.

Maybe he'll listen if you
tell him not to ruin his life.

GREGSON:
You two are leaving?

I'm gonna assume you caught
a break on the road rage thing?

Yeah, we've been calling
the big R22 vendors and buyers,

found out there's a lot fewer
companies that trade in

this particular chemical
than there used to be.

In the 1990s, the EPA
launched a long-term phaseout

of the type of refrigerant
carried by our killer--

part of their effort
to curb emissions

that erode the ozone layer.

By 2020,
R22's sale and manufacture

will be entirely illegal within
the U.S., and this year will see

a mandatory 56% reduction.
And as you're no doubt

already surmising,
that kind of regulatory pressure

has led to soaring prices
in the nascent black market.

So, what, the refrigeration
business is the Wild West now?

BELL:
Not quite,

but a friend at the FBI says

a lot of the manufacturers
are exceeding their allocations

and selling the surplus
off the books.

Good news is thefts
are on the rise as well.

That is good news.
BELL: Well, it gives us
a couple leads.

Out of a dozen open cases, two
of them have witness statements

that mention
suspicious white vehicles.

So while I'm gonna meet Watson
at an ice rink, the detective is

on his way to a fish market.
I'm expecting

a lot of interesting smells,
in case you want to join me.

I'm good.
Let me know what you find.

Where is this guy?

The report said
the complainant

had been managing this
facility for 12 years.

Were this my lot in life,
you'd have to stir me

to action with
a cattle prod.

Your impatience
is uncharacteristic.

What, you're not cold?

How was your lunch
with your mother?

(sighs) Well, my brother
is having an affair.

Oren is having an affair?

Yeah. She wants me to,
I don't know, fix it, I guess.

How is it your problem?

It's not. It's just, you know,

I'm the least weird person
in my family.

My mother, my stepfather,
by brother--

they all have their issues
and, you know,

sometimes they need a referee.

You're beginning to see
the wisdom in keeping

an ocean in between one's
self and one's relatives.

Oh, right, because
you and your family--

you've got it all
figured out. Right.

Nothing weird about you guys.

We do not require referees.

Were it not for

the evolutionary quirk that
a mature human brain cannot pass

through a dilated cervix,
we might be rid of the pair bond

between parent and child
entirely.

Well, I love my family.

Mm. You enjoy
the occasional meal with Oren

and you exchange Christmas
cards, but the reason you're

vexed is the notion that the
thinnest tendril of shared DNA

makes his extramarital
gymnastics your responsibility.

Family is the tie
that binds, but while

one end undergirds
human civilization,

the other is a noose,
choking away our individuation.

You can cut the cord, Watson.

You're the cops?

We're consultants
with the NYPD.

I'm Joan Watson.
This is Sherlock Holmes.

Uh, you're the facilities
manager, Mr. Weissman?

Yes. Uh, Kimmy said
you wanted to talk to me.

Ms. Watson and I are
investigating a murder.

A murder?

We have an inkling that
the thief who stole

your R22 canisters
last month

may have beaten a
young girl to death.

Would you be so kind

as to show us where the
burglary took place?

Couple of months ago,

I come down here to put
our Christmas decorations away,

I find the door here
wide open.

Guy left in a hurry, I guess.

Well, who else access
to this room?
Just me.

That's how I knew
something was up.

Cops said they
picked the lock.

Well, that's hogwash, isn't it?

You perpetrated the crime

and then you filed
a false report.
Excuse me?

You stole the refrigerant.
These little nicks here--

it's what you get when
an amateur tries to bump a lock.

Teeth on a blank are filed
very, very sharply,

the bump key is then

inserted into the lock,
whacked with some force--

too much force, in this case--
but then, you meant to leave

proof of some malfeasance,
didn't you?

I got the key. Why would I
even want to do something...?

Because you've got a key,
'cause you've got the only key.

There needed to be
an alternative

explanation for the crime.

Anyway, this model has
a side-locking bar--

it's unbumpable.

This was a charade
to fool investigators.

WATSON:
So you reported

25 tanks of R22 were stolen.

Other black market deals
have it hovering

about $200 per tank,

so if we pull your bank records,
are we gonna find

a $4,000 cash deposit
that you can't account for?

I didn't kill anyone.

That's not
what we're implying.

We wish to determine
whether your buyer did.

Your receptionist, Kimmy--

she said she noticed
a white van parked illegally

the morning of the robbery.

Now, if you have something
useful to tell us about that?

I never got his name.

I don't have a telephone number,
credit card, anything like that.

Our deal was cash,
like you said.

He was a little
older than me,

tall white guy.

Came in off the street,

made me an offer,
just like that.

Was it his van?

Yeah.

He wanted me
to deliver the stuff,

but I was worried
it was a setup,

so I told him he had to pick up
the canisters himself.

But he'd already given me
the address.

I've got it written down
in the office somewhere.

Was it in the Bronx?

Yeah, matter of fact.

Well, this is plainly
not the vehicle

that Allie Newmeyer
crashed into.

Yet there are reasons
to believe

that its owner is our killer.

I don't see anything.

That's my point.

Seven years old,
but it's pristine.

There's no plates,
no lint, no smudges.

Just a hint of adhesive
on the windshield

to suggest a recently-removed
"for sale" sticker.

It is parked at the address
given to us by Mr. Weissman.

These are all indicators

that this is
a hasty replacement

for the van which Miss Newmeyer
crashed into last night.

But what is this place?

There's no signage,
there's no business.

You think our guy
squatted here?

Difficult to say.

But answers...
are at our fingertips.

Hold on. Let me call it in,
see if the captain thinks

we've got enough for a warrant.

(blowing on hands)

It's 12 degrees.

How long would
you wait here

listening to the unattended
infant crying inside?

There's no baby in there.
Now I hear two infants.

There's no rush; nobody's here.

There's no reason
not to do this right.

You would blithely dismiss
the risk of acute hypothermia?

Captain, can you hear me?

Hold on. I want to try
to get a better signal.

(door creaks open)

(door rumbles open)

WATSON:
Sherlock?

I'm not easily surprised,

but I do confess
to not expecting this.

BELL: So we've got Folsom,
Jenkins, Diener,

Choi and the Narducci family.

Is that all of them,
or are there others?

Actually, there are ten more
here in Flushing.

It's been busy lately.

HOLMES:
Tell us, Mr. Misraki,

when your life extension firm
signs a new client,

do your reps explain
that their frozen remains

will one day be laid out
in a meat locker?

BELL:
Supposed to be

keeping them in these things,
aren't you?

As soon as a cryoNYC
member dies,

their body in injected
with a glycol-based solution

and lowered
to 77 degrees Kelvin.

We do that in one of
the cryostats pictured here.

The goal is to make
cellular deterioration

impossible.

That's our pledge--

that all members will be
preserved in stasis

until nanotechnology
is developed

to restore them to life.

HOLMES: Well, it was
cold in your freezer,

but it was not
minus 196 degrees Centigrade.

I will admit
to instituting some policies

that might offend decorum.

The truth is, we've oversold
our current facilities,

but we're raising capital
to grow and catch up to demand.

Right.

So, in other words,
when a new client dies,

you throw an old one...
in the meat locker.

We rotate them.

But all clients'
core temperatures

are kept below
the threshold

that industry leaders have
theorized to be sufficient.

"Industry leaders"
meaning you, right?

So you're just keeping them on
ice and hoping for the best?

CryoNYC has to keep costs down.

We invest
every dollar we can,

a forward-looking strategy
to insure financial solvency

for as long as it takes.

Millennia if necessary.

Oh, is that what you call

buying stolen coolant
from ice rinks? Investing?

I wouldn't bother denying it.

Gary Weissman at Skate Pelham
already identified you.

I offered him a price
for some refrigerant.

I had no way of knowing

that he wouldn't clear the deal
with his employer.

I'm a bargain hunter,
not a criminal.

HOLMES:
Ah, well,

we're not here about R22,

or the improper storage
of dead nutters.

Allie Newmeyer

was murdered two nights ago

after she struck
one of your vans. Now,

perhaps she got a look
at the ghastly shell game

that you're playing, and you
decided to kill the witness.

Wait. You think someone here...?

No, we would never...

You said two nights ago, right?

Mm.
Two nights ago,
we were robbed.

The person you're looking for
took that van.

Then I'm sure we'll find
that you filed a report

with the police?

No. It was... complicated.

But please, talk to my people.

You'll see,
I'm telling the truth.

MAN:
When I got in yesterday,

I saw the van
wasn't here.

It's a little out
of the ordinary,

but every once in a while,
we'll park it at...

at an off-site facility
that we maintain.

It's okay, Scott.
They know about Hunts Point.

BELL: Yeah, by all
means, Mr. Resnick,

speak freely.

You might just avoid
a hindering prosecution charge.

Hey, I said we
should call you guys

as soon as we realized
everything that happened.

What constitutes
"everything"?

There was a break-in.

Uh, I came in early
to take some readings.

I'm the chief
engineer, so normally,

I'm one of the
first people here.

I noticed that
somebody had kicked in

the door to
the main office.

Probably to get the
keys to the van.

And that's when I realized
that Mr. Sullivan was missing.

And who's Mr. Sullivan?

Jim Sullivan--
he was interred

in tank six two months ago.

Wait a second.
A body was stolen,

and you didn't report it?

This was only yesterday,

and given our new protocols
with respect to Hunts Point,

there was a chance Mr. Sullivan
had simply been misplaced.

I felt it was prudent

to conduct a search
of all of our facilities...

You felt it was prudent
to avoid a police probe

of your shady
business practices.

I am trying
to do the right thing here.

Better late
than never.

If you like, Watson
and I can look

into the alleged break-in here
while you take Mr. Misraki

to the station.

I would ask, however,
that Mr. Resnick's interview

be delayed
until we are finished,

'cause we might require
his technical expertise.

I told you everything I know.

Yeah, and it's
great stuff.

Our fraud people are gonna
want to hear it, too.

So, if you could show us

the almost-final resting
place of Jim Sullivan.

Well?

Well, what? You said you were
going for coffee an hour ago.

I did go for coffee.
It wasn't very good.

How have you fared?

Well, as crazy as he is,

everything Misraki said
checks out.

Hmm. It's hardly
surprising.

He seemed to think that
full candor at the 11th hour

would save his company
from exposure.

Theft of the van seems a little
conveniently exculpatory though,

don't you think?

Well, cryoNYC kept
pretty detailed logs

about when
the bodies were swapped

between the tanks
and Hunts Point.

They didn't have
anything scheduled

within three days
of the crash.

According to his files.

A snake oil salesman needn't
be disbelieved in all things,

but his claims
do warrant extra scrutiny.

It's all consistent
with the temperature readings

we took from the tanks,
the bodies.

I don't think that van was there
on company business.

Let's say that
you're right.

Allie Newmeyer's attacker
was driving a stolen vehicle.

Beyond putting out a more
specific APB for the van,

that suggests that our
resources are best applied

to the unsolved strangulation
of Jim Sullivan.

Wait. Our missing dead guy
is a murder victim?

Choked to death
several months ago.

I've been reviewing the
specifics with Detective Bell.

Corpsicles having so little
resale value,

it seems an unlikely coincidence
that the only homicide victim

in cryoNYC's cold storage
was the target of our thief.

So, somebody got away
with murder,

but then couldn't resist
going back for a trophy?

Perhaps the killer felt
some incriminating evidence

had been preserved
by the irregular method

of his victim's burial.

Perhaps he wanted
to desecrate the corpse.

No matter the motive
of the heist,

I submit that solving
Jim Sullivan's murder gives us

our best chance
at solving Allie Newmeyer's.

WATSON: Strangulation is usually
a crime of passion, right?

Man was a psychiatrist
attacked in his home office.

Spent his days plumbing
uncomfortable truths about

his patient's
most closely-held secrets,

so motives abound.

Yet all of his patients
appear to have solid alibis.

Well, the best evidence
was physical.

The killer

tracked muddy size-11
boot prints into the foyer

before he killed Sullivan.

The M.E. thought
it looked like the work

of a strong right-handed man.

Well, they're out
in force lately.

The lead investigator
initially fixated on the man

who discovered the
body-- Vance Ford.

He said he was a first-time
patient of Sullivan's,

but there was nothing
in Sullivan's files

to confirm
he had an appointment.

In Ford's telling, he
happened upon the murder

as it was being completed,
but was unable to catch up

to the culprit
who fled on foot.

Oh. Maybe because
Wyatt Earp got back

into his time machine
and vanished.

Needless to say,
the fact

that no other
witnesses recalled

such a striking figure
bolting down the street

did raise a
few eyebrows.

Mr. Ford was interviewed
three times,

and he was steadfast
in his account.

And it has to be said,
he had no motive.

What is it?

It's crazy, but...

I feel like I know him
from somewhere.

Former lover?
Wouldn't be the strangest.

It's like I went to
high school with him

or something.

Maybe he's connected to
some case we were working.

After years spent staring
at suspects,

the average detective
has catalogued

almost every combination
of facial features.

A cloud of déjà vu can be
a natural byproduct.

Well, I got to tag back in
on the Misraki interview.

Feel free to go hunting
through mug shots

if you can't shake
the feeling, all right?

I think our time would be better
spent chatting with Mr. Ford.

He seems a better bet
to recall something interesting

about our mystery man,
don't you think?

I was heading out
when you called,

but always happy
to help the police.

Have a seat.

You seem very eager
to get off your feet.

I must ask you,
have you been

in a car accident recently?

I'm a subway guy,
born and raised.

The limp is just...
I woke up a little sore.

That should happen
less often

once you're through
with the radiation.

I saw your medication--
Vorinostat.

I hope it's working.

Relapsing acute myeloid
leukemia. Kicking my ass.

Supposedly I've only
got a month, but...

I'm gonna stick
until Tribeca at least.

I'm in film finance.
Finally got one in the festival.

Well, we don't wish
to waste your time or ours,

so I will be direct.

You don't appear
physically capable

of the crime
that we're investigating,

but I imagine
you were in better form

when Jim Sullivan was killed.

Finally,
someone comes out and asks.

I knew they suspected me,
the way they kept coming back

and asking why
I went there.

Suppose I should've come clean,
but back then nobody knew.

My oncologist said I should talk
to someone about,

you know, death.

Ironic, right?

Anyway, I found him online.

We had an appointment.

The guy just didn't keep
his calendar up-to-date.

So you two never met.

Kind of begs the question:

why the hell
would I kill him, right?

I didn't.
I would tell you if I did.

Not exactly afraid
of a life sentence here.

The man that you saw
fleeing the scene...

They worked up a sketch.

Well, you would be doing us
a great service

if you could just set the stage
one more time.

And, please,
leave out no details.

You never know what grain
might be useful.

I came up the street
just as he was walking out

of Dr. Sullivan's front door.

When he saw me,
he took off.

He had a beard,
sort of auburn colored,

and a cowboy kind of hat.

Pretty sure there was a scar
over his eye.

That's it.

You wouldn't add
or change a thing?

I asked the guy who drew that
if he did portraits.

He nailed it.

OREN (over phone):
Are you high?

Oren, calm down.

Calm down? You just accused me
of cheating on my wife.

I didn't accuse you of anything.

I'm just telling you
what Mom thought she saw.

Well, then she's going blind.

Or she's high.
No.

She seemed pretty sure.

She didn't see anything.
Th-There was nothing to see.

I'll tell you what this is.
It's payback.

I've never gotten out
of the doghouse

since dad cheated on her.

I didn't yell
about what a heel he is,

so she thought
I was taking his side.

I really don't think
that's what it is.

You weren't up here last week.

She could be doing this
because I forgot

to change the guest towels.
The woman is nuts.

Okay, let's just work
from a place of

"this is
what she thought she saw."

No. I got to go.
Gabrielle's calling.

Who never needs to hear
about this garbage. Got it?

Got it.

VANCE (over speakers): His
beard, it was auburn colored.

And he had this cowboy hat
with a wide brim.

I'm pretty sure
there was a scar over his eye.

There's an 81% chance
Vance Ford is lying

about his role
in Jim Sullivan's murder.

You taped our meeting?

No. What you've just heard

is a recording of the second
of three interviews

that the police conducted
with Mr. Ford.

It only sounds like
our meeting today

because he hewed so closely
to his original description.

There's virtually no variance
in each of his accounts.

His story never changes.

Ergo, lying.

Well, if he was
telling the truth,

then why would you
expect it to change?

Our meeting today brought
to mind this recent study

by a group
of psychologists.

They found that counting
the number of unique words used

by witnesses was an exceptional
lie detection technique.

Liars stick
to streamlined stories.

(kettle whistling)
They don't deviate
from the linguistic avenues

they've already mapped out
in their original telling.

They use fewer words

and particularly ones
that evoke sense memory.

Because they're not drawing
from memory.

Law enforcement agencies
pour considerable resources

into the study
of microexpressions

and into polygraph technology,

but no matter how finely
they measure facial tics

and heart rates, they rarely
do better than a coin flip.

Tallying singular words
may be the best way

to root out liars
such as Mr. Ford.

And it's absolutely free.

(sighs)

A significant development
in our case

and a revolutionary breakthrough
in our field.

And you could not be more bored.

(sighs)
I'm distracted.

I just got off the phone
with Oren.

Denied having the affair.

And he used plenty of words,
in case you're wondering.

And I think he was ready
to use a lot more

to describe my mother.

You believe him?

Well, like you said, he's not
really the affair-having type.

So these other words he would
use to describe your mother,

would "forgetful"
be one of them?

What do you mean?

When I was in
London last summer,

I received two phone
calls from her.

The first one, she was
trying to track you down.

She was unaware that I
was no longer stateside.

The second one
was one week later.

Before the question was out
of her mouth, she admitted

that my move had
slipped her mind.

I assumed you just
hadn't mentioned it,

thought she'd only
forgotten once.

No, I told her you went to
London the day after you left.

Your mother's in her
late 60s, correct?

Yeah, 68.

Still pretty early
for Alzheimer's or dementia,

if that's what you're thinking.

General cognitive decline is
usually underway at that point.

Bits of memory loss.

I mean, it might not be so
dire as a chronic case, but...

could explain why she's
mistaken about Oren.

No, she was sure.

And you know how she is.
She's...

She's razor sharp.
She's your mother.

I'm not suggesting she's
gripped by fantasies.

But she might have transposed
Oren into the memory

of someone else
kissing a blonde woman.

(phone ringing)

Detective.

BELL:
Hey, you guys talked to

Vance Ford
this afternoon, right?

Did you see anything
that set off your antennae?

No, but we heard plenty
of things

that were very suspicious.

He spun a too-familiar yarn
about a bearded cowboy killer.

Well, I hope you got
a good description.

There's a chance
that the same perp struck again.

Vance Ford was strangled
tonight.

It looks just like
the Jim Sullivan murder.

BELL:
Jim Sullivan. Vance Ford.

I'm thinking about putting
stickers on these photos

to keep them straight.

Sullivan's home has
French Colonial flourishes.

Ford's is a juvenile paean
to pop culture obsession.

My point is there are a lot of
similarities between the crimes.

You don't see men strangled to
death by bare hands too often.

GREGSON: No forced entry,
not enough evidence

to suggest a long
fight at either scene.

Looks like both guys were
surprised by someone they knew.

One notable dissimilarity
is that the scene

of Ford's murder is pristine.

Sullivan's killer, meanwhile,
tracked his size 11 prints

everywhere.

BELL: Maybe he's learned
from his mistakes.

My point is that we should
remain open to the possibility

this is the work
of two different killers.

GREGSON: If it wasn't, Ford
just got proven innocent

of the Sullivan murder,
in the worst possible way.

(phone vibrates)

No Joan today?

She has a familial obligation.
She'll join us shortly.

You should tell her we may not
be here at the station.

We got guys rolling on
a 10-24 at cryoNYC.

Somebody there called 911.

An intruder in the crypt

knocked one of
their engineers unconscious.

So it might be time for some,
uh, surveillance cameras

and some new locks, Mr. Resnick.

We saw the ambulance
leaving on our way in.

The guy who got hit,
he gonna be okay?

Ryan Lee.

Yeah. My partner's
riding with him.

He was coming around. I thought
we'd get a full statement.

So when we left yesterday, this
place was a sealed crime scene.

Today you're back
hosting an open house?

The lawyers cleared it.

Somebody has to come in
and maintain the cryostats.

Ryan and I

came in early to check gauges,
make sure nothing

had been disturbed by the police
who'd been poking around.

All of a sudden,

we heard something
from behind this tank.

Someone was tampering
with the tank

that used to house Jim Sullivan?

When we went to check it out,
this guy came out of nowhere

and whacked Ryan in the head.

He hit him with a wrench.

I-I thought
he might kill him.

Then what happened?

Uh, I shoved the guy,

and he swung at me,
but he missed.

He hit the side of the tank.

Yeah.

And then he took off.

Ran out the fire exit.

He leave any scratches,
any other marks on you?

No, but you got a
good look at him?

Both of us.
He's a white guy.

Late 30s,
if I had to guess.

Sort of
a wispy brown beard.

And I couldn't be sure, because
he was wearing this weird hat,

but I think he had a scar
over his eye.

Right here.

OFFICER:
His friend was pretty groggy,

but he gave us
the same description

before we sent him
to the hospital.

SCOTT:
That's him.

You know who he is?

We're familiar
with his work.

MARY:
I promise

I'm not trying to get back
at you for being late on Monday.

The cable was out,

and dealing with those people
is a nightmare.

I had to wait. I'm sorry.

You should've ordered.

It's no problem.

Is everything all right?

Did you talk to Oren?

I did. He denied it.

He said it never happened.

Well, I guess
that's to be expected.

This is so frustrating.

I really don't know what to do.

I have to ask, are you sure
it was Oren you saw?

What do you mean? Of course.

Uh, you know what,
we just need another minute.

Thanks.

If you think
you've done what you can do,

then you've done
what you can do.

Thank you for trying.

So what was it you ordered
last time that looked good?

You're testing me.

What?

I used to do the same thing
with my mother.

You don't believe me about Oren.

You think I'm confused.
You're wrong.

You're not a doctor anymore,
and I'm not your patient.

No, I'm not a doctor anymore,

but I do think
you should see one.

There's some easy tests
they can run.

We're not discussing this.

I spoke to Dad.

He said that you don't
like to talk about it,

but you've been forgetting
where you put things.

My keys, once.

He said it was more than that.

(sighs)
This is ridiculous.

He has more senior moments
than I do.

You're gonna have them,
too, someday.

It happens to everyone.

It doesn't mean that I can't
be trusted to remember

my own son
disgracing his marriage.

Mom...

Forget it.

I'm not gonna
sit here and be ambushed.

Mom, please, I...

I wonder what
a psychiatrist would make

of the temptation
to use this software

to turn a violent criminal's
face into one's own.

I could take a guess.

So the cryoNYC
guys were not able

to improve on
Ford's sketch?

Given how prolific this man's
been over the last two days--

let alone two months--
I assumed he would have priors.

But if he does have a record,
I've been unable to find it.

Even with
the modifications

to his various features,
I've been unable to generate

a facial recognition match
to anyone in the NYPD database.

Well, yesterday you thought

Vance Ford was lying
about this guy.

Mm. Today Vance Ford is dead.
And if memory serves,

I said there was
an 81% chance he was lying,

which means there's a 19% chance
he was telling the truth.

Something about
this guy's face.

If the witnesses at cryoNYC
hadn't been so certain,

I'd say that your mind
was playing tricks on you.

(sighs)
Well, maybe it is.

There's a happy thought.

Didn't go well with your mother.

Well, I shouldn't be surprised.
I mean, I've seen it before

with patients.
Mental health care is tricky.

You know, you see
these families

battling with one another,
you know?

Trying to convince
their loved ones to accept help.

I really don't
want that battle.

Surely your stepfather
could persuade her

to see a specialist.

He convinced my mother
to order breadsticks once

with our pizza-- I
think we were watching

a new episode of MASH.

So there's him
and then there's my brother,

who's furious with her
and 500 miles away.
(phone chimes)

I think I'm on
my own here.

Sorry. Uh, we're
cordially invited

to review the autopsy
results of Vance Ford.

If you're still in the mind
to find solace in work.

(elevator bell dings)

Already used the cyanoacrylate
fuming wand you like.

Didn't turn up any
prints around his neck.

I can, however, answer the
question you called about.

No way this guy killed
Allie Newmeyer.

Yeah, we were pretty sure about
that the moment we saw him.

Well, now it's
official.

Leukemia would have
taken him soon

if he hadn't
been strangled.

You don't see blood labs
like this very often

outside of academic
medicine.

His white blood cell
count was 312.

Yeah. That'll thin your skin
and weaken your blood vessels.

Explains why the bruising
is so bad, too.

It explains
some of the bruising.

HAWES: You noticed
the feet, too, huh?

I was thinking maybe
it was some kind of, uh,

weird double lividity,
but coroner's assistant

swears they kept him level
in the van.

Actually, the explanation
is much simpler.

This man was a liar
and a killer after all.

So you're saying Vance Ford
didn't just kill Jim Sullivan

two months ago,
he also stole his shoes?

All it took to get
away with murder.

You'll recall the
killer had tracked

size-11 boot prints
all over Sullivan's foyer.

WATSON: Now, maybe Ford was in
a hurry because the neighbors

heard the struggle,
or maybe he was worried

he was gonna miss a spot
if he cleaned the scene.

Either way,
he saw an opportunity.

He put on this pair
of Sullivan's smaller shoes

and then made a show
of discovering the body.

We found these
size 11 shoes

at Ford's home--
his closet was full of them.

When we met him, he was wearing
these size-nine loafers.

It registered
when I noticed his limp.

It's a mature choice for a man
of such juvenile aesthetics.

But it's difficult to match
your look when you shop

in a dead man's wardrobe.

So we think that Ford
squeezed into these loafers

whenever he met with police.

These bruises are
the price he paid

for sticking
to his story.

Maybe. Maybe not.
It's not like we can ask him.

No need. We believe we may have
uncovered his motive.

What would posses a man
dying of leukemia

to kill a complete stranger?

WATSON:
We had a hunch,

so we asked the lab
to test their DNA.

Sullivan was a bone marrow match

for Ford.

HOLMES: Underneath not one
but two name changes

at the county clerk's office,
we uncovered an explanation.

They are estranged cousins.

So one side of the family
doesn't like the other.

Sullivan doesn't want to go
through a painful procedure

to give up his marrow, but Ford
won't take no for an answer.

It's a crime of passion,
as Watson said.

Now, Ford continued
to deteriorate.

All seemed lost,
until he discovered

that his victim was interred
at cryoNYC.

Now, bone marrow and stem cells

are cryogenically frozen
all the time.

So you think Ford
was behind the theft

at cryoNYC, too?

Behind, but not capable.
He would need help

to pull a corpse
out of a cryotank,

and he'd need an expert
to harvest the marrow.

Our friend with the cowboy hat.

I'm now quite certain he doesn't
exist. Ford made him up.

Then who?
The two techs at cryoNYC.

The ones who claimed
they were attacked by this man.

Ford paid them

to help harvest the bone marrow.

One or both of them ran into
trouble the other night

when Allie Newmeyer
struck their van.

She had to die.

We think they were worried about
Ford clearing his conscience

before he died, so they cut
his time even shorter.

And then they piggybacked
onto the boogeyman he described

two months ago,
kept us chasing our tails.

It's interesting.

But I don't see us
getting a warrant off of it.

Not unless one of the techs you
like just hands us something.

Oh, my God,
I know who he is now--

cowboy hat.
GREGSON: Am I crazy,

or did your partner not
just say that Ford made him up?

No, you were wrong;
he's real.

Sort of. And...

I think he can help us.

SCOTT:
Oh, my God.

Yeah. You can see why we
think we're onto something.

Our colleagues are at the
hospital checking with Mr. Lee,

but we hope you'll be
able to make the I.D.

His testimony will be
worth less at trial

'cause of his
concussion.

I know you could probably put
a lot of people in that hat,

give them a beard,
but it's the eyes.

I'll never forget the way
he looked when he came at Ryan

with that wrench in his hand.

That's him.

You're absolutely
positive?

Hundred percent.

What?

WATSON:
You just I.D.'d

a man named John Reynolds,
an actor.

This isn't really a mug shot,

it's a still
from a movie.

Manos: Hands of Fate.

He played a character
named Torgo.

What?
Manos might be

the worst movie of all time,

so of course
it has a cult following.

My brother
always got a kick out of it.

He was a movie nerd.

Now, it's been
bothering me

since I saw it
at your friend's house.

He liked B movies, too.

What the hell
are you talking about?

What friend?
BELL:
Vance Ford.

Now, this man-- the one you
just pinned your crime on--

died in 1966.

WATSON: When Ford was
asked to describe

Jim Sullivan's killer,
he picked a face he knew well.

It's a good strategy
for a liar.

Helped him keep his
story consistent.

You were kind enough

to allow us to
tape this meeting.

We're pretty sure it's
going to be enough

to get us a warrant to search
your home and Mr. Lee's.

Maybe we'll find the
money Ford paid you.

Hell, maybe we'll even find
Dr. Sullivan's remains.

They still haven't
turned up.

This is nuts.

The two of you staged
that second break-in at cryoNYC

after you killed Ford.

Not sure how you figured out
which one of you was gonna

hit the other with the wrench,
but since he's the one

in the hospital, I'm guessing
he's not quite as sharp as you.

WATSON:
We're curious--

when our colleagues
tell him the truth

about the man in the sketch,

when they explain
that the first person to testify

against the other
will be able to cut a deal

with the D.A.'s office,

do you think
he'll stick to the script,

or do you think
he'll save himself?

Chew on it,
Mr. Resnick.

We'll be back
in a while.

Leave it on.

There's more I want to tell you.

You texted?

Been shopping?

Yeah, it's a make-up present
for my mother.

If I can get her
to pick up the phone,

I'm gonna try
and talk to her again.

I thought a spoonful of sugar.

I've always found a
crowbar more effective.

But do as you wish.

She should be here
momentarily.

What?
You were wrong, Watson.

You needn't take care of your
mother's care on your own.

You have a larger family
than you imagined.

Anyway, I don't want you
shirking off our work.

That's a pretty selfish way
to phrase a generous offer.

What happened
to cutting the cord?

I like Mary.

No, I appreciate that, but
you don't know her like I do.

I mean, she's not
gonna just, you know...

Mary!

Act naturally.

We're taking her to see an
acquaintance at St. Bede's.

What acquaintance?
Neurologist.

Okay, does she know that?
Of course she does.

How did you get her to, uh...

I called her up earlier
and I convinced her

that she'd forgotten your
birthday the other month.

But she didn't. She got me
that scarf you ruined.

HOLMES: I convinced her
that she did not.

Took some doing,
mind you.

In the end, and for her
own good, I prevailed.

That's pretty cruel,
actually.

Crowbar, Watson. That's
how we do it in my family.

Hi, Mom.