All language subtitles for CSI.Crime.Scene.Investigation.S13E13.In.Vino.Veritas.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb

Good evening, sir.

Ma'am.

You know, Jonah,
we don't have

to be a part of this.

Yes, we do.

I'll look like an ass
if we pull out now.

Besides, I really want this.

Hey, so did you.

Remember?

Come on.

Jonah Drake.
Samantha Wilson.

Password, Mr. Drake.

Decadence.

♪ ♪

Thank you.

♪ ♪

You good?

All set,
Mr. Vogel.

Everything
is where it needs to be.

Thank you, Tom.

Good evening, Mr. Vogel.
Good evening.

Jack, good to see you.

Hope our arrangement
is still in order.

To be honest, Jonah, I almost
changed my mind this morning.

But then I realized
I have an obligation

to share my... passion.

I'm getting excited here.

Patience is a virtue, Mr. Drake.

And how much is virtue
going to cost me?

Sounds like our friend here
needs a little preview.

Remember, look,
but don't touch.

You weren't lying.

Beautiful.

Whatever the price,
I'll pay it.

Hey, Mitch.

What's with
the rifle?

These two knuckleheads

were blasting away
into the barrel over there.

They probably
thought they hit oil.

Black gold, Texas tea.

Yeah, well, my
nose says decomp.

I don't see any
blood around here.

This is definitely
not our primary.

Well, let's not lose
any of the goodness.

All right,
one, two, three.

Here goes anything.

That is not a pretty sight.

Yeah, didn't start out
like that, though.

Black tie, tuxedo.

Poor guy was dressed to kill.

Or be killed.

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ I really wanna know ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪♪ Who...♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you,
you, you ♪

♪ Are you! ♪

What's less fun
than a barrel of monkeys?

Hodges, his leg
is jammed, okay?

A malodorous, bloated corpse
in a monkey suit.

So disgusting.

Ah, we've reached
the tipping point.

Oh, that is ripe.

Hodges...

Wh-What are you doing?

As you know,
I have a refined nose.

And, thanks to my fiancée,

a deeper appreciation for one
of the finer things in life.

Decomp?

Wine.

And I detect a hint
of frutto di Bacco.

Well, I'm going to go
have fun with my barrel.

Enjoy your corpse.

Can I help you
with something?

I'm looking for D.B. Russell.

He wasn't in his office.

I-I'm sorry,
but we can't have visitors

wandering the halls
without an escort.

This is a crime lab.

Yeah, Hodges, relax.

I think the, uh, head

of the New York Crime Lab

knows that a crime lab
looks like.

Oh... I'm sorry.

No problem.

Mac Taylor.

Uh, David Hodges.

Um, trace.

I'm sure you two
have business,

and, uh,

yeah, so do I.

Ooh. Boy.

Hey. How was your flight?

It got me here.

Geez.

It's been a while.
It has.

Forensics convention in
Kansas City, right? Ribs?

That State Department
boondoggle.
That's right.

The drunken DNA
expert from Chicago

started singing karaoke.

Freddie Mercury--
not easy to pull off.

He got booed off the stage.

The locals started
throwing chicken wings...
Chicken wings. Right.

Right.
Before I forget,

let me, uh...

Tickets you wanted.
Thanks.

What do I owe you?

No, it's on the house.

But let me ask you something.

Celine Dion over Jersey Boys?

It's a surprise for Christine.

In fact, this whole trip
is a surprise.

She already here?

Restaurateurs convention.

She started a bistro.

With that
and my work,

it's just been hard
finding time together.

Oh, tell me about it.

Yeah, listen, I-I didn't plan
this surprise very well.

I haven't been able
to reach Christine.

She's probably still
at the convention, but...

You want to
check out the lab?Sure, yeah.

And then we can swing by her
hotel and grab a bite to eat.

Right. Sounds like a good plan.

I'll give you the
nickel tour here.

Victim's a John Doe.

David didn't find any I.D.,
but he did find

this pair of cuff links--
monogrammed.

J.D. John Doe.

Must have known
where he was headed.

Face is badly
disfigured.

I'm guessing that he was jammed
into that barrel

for at least a couple days.

His position
distorted his features,

as did this gunshot
to the face.

Were those shots
fired by the kids?

No, that would be these

three postmortem wounds
here on the torso.

Cause of death
was massive damage

to the brain and brain stem,
resulting

from this medium-caliber bullet.

This looks like a bullet wound
in the hand, too.

That's what I thought at first.

But let me show you something.
Come on over here.

See how these bones
are broken?

They're not shattered.

Suggests something
slower than a bullet.

What do you think it is?

I can't say. There's no
distinctive tool marks.

But there is this.

The object driven
through the hand

has some sort
of head on it.

You mean, like a nail?

Same idea,

but a whole lot bigger.

Are you sure this was used
to hold wine?

It's all charred on the inside.

It's supposed to be.

Why?

A toasted barrel
enhances the wine.

Igniting intense flavors.

Vanilla, mocha,
toffee, tobacco.

Not to mention
intensifying the tannins.

You making this stuff up?
No.

Elisabetta's family has
a winery in Tuscany.

They make a robust,
yet refined Brunello.

Which is just a fancy way
of saying Sangiovese.

This is why I stick to vodka.

No exotic terms,
no dissertations.

You don't know what
you're missing.

Yeah, well,
tell that to immigration.

That's not funny.

Sorry.

I-I really am hopeful

about the whole
green card thing.

I'm sorry.
Yeah.

Well, looks like our barrel
is made from Quercus petraea,

white oak from France.

Found only in the
Tronçais forest.

Sounds fancy.

So, our primary is in France?

No... what
I'm saying is,

barrels made from the white
oak of the Tronçais forest

are extremely rare.

Meaning it shouldn't be too hard
to find the manufacturer.

Or who purchased it.

Hey, Russell.

I think that we have a lead
on our John Doe in the barrel.

What do you got?
Stomach contents.

Guy had quite the last meal.

Raw whale?

As in whale sushi?

Oh, come on,
that's got to be illegal.

And disgusting and immoral,
but very helpful.

Last month, LVPD arrested
a Vince Corrado.

He's a sushi chef.

Turned out he'd been serving
whale meat on the QT.

And last night,
he was serving at a mansion.

Owner's name is Albert Vogel.

Take these
to the back.

Do not drop it, okay?

You break these,
you pay for it.

Hey, what's
in the case?

Who's asking?

Me, and I'm not
going to ask again.

Sorry. It's, uh... it's wine.

Steel crate
under a guard?

I thought it was
gold or something.

Well, it might
as well be.

It's a rare Bordeaux:

1947 Château
Cheval Blanc.

Well, I would
sell you a bottle

if you had 100 grand.

What...

100 grand
for a bottle of wine?

How much is the steak?

It's free,
if you're on the list.

And who are you?

Albert Vogel.

Just the man we're looking for.

Whale meat on the
menu again tonight?

That's what
this is about?

Actually, we're
investigating a homicide.

That's horrible.

Well, I don't...
I-I don't recognize him.

His stomach tells us
that he was here

a couple of nights ago.

Previous party, I presume.

You mean "auction."

I'm an auctioneer.
Right.

Rare vintages only.

The past three nights,
I've sold over $20 million

in wine.

$20 million for wine?

Great wine is art.

Geez, I thought
it was just

something you drank
with Italian food.

Well, uh,

your guest was wearing
these cuff links.

Do you recognize them?

These belong to Jack Davari.

Is he a friend?More of a client.

He's one of the premier
wine collectors in the world.

Really? Well,
someone shot him

and collected him
in a barrel.

Two nights ago.

Well, that's horrible.

Jack is a good man.

Well, he has
a remarkable palate.

Once, in a double blind tasting,

he picked out the region,
the vintage and the winemaker.

It was extraordinary.

Any idea
who might have killed him?

Well, this business can be
vicious, but a... a murder?

I-I... I don't think so.

So, was Jack acting erratically,

or, uh, anything odd
about his behavior that night?

Well, he had a bit of a row

with, uh, Marc Ratelle, but...

Who's Marc Ratelle?

Well, he's
the great-great-grandson

of Gustav Ratelle.

The scion of
the Château Ratelle family.

It's one of the oldest
winemakers in France.

And he was here
selling his wine?

Well, actually, he was trying
to buy back a case from Jack.

That's why
they were fighting.

Why would he want
to buy back his own wine?

I mean, why wouldn't he
just make more?

Oh, no.

Not... not a 1936
Château Ratelle.

It is considered

the best Bordeaux vintage
of all time.

There are only about, uh,
600 bottles left in the world.

And Jack
was in no mood

to sell?

No, he wanted to put
that case on auction.

This is a fair offer.
You will take it.

At auction, this will go
for a hell of a lot more.

Jack was right.

Marc offered him $200,000.

When it went on auction,

it made over a million.

Who bought it?

An anonymous bidder.

Do you know why
this guy Ratelle

would be so desperate to
buy back his own wine?

Well, the wine world
is full of eccentrics.

He's temperamental,
he's arrogant...

he's French.

Well, now he's our
prime suspect.

Made a reservation at the
steakhouse at the Mediterranean.

I think you'll
like it.
Uh...

Oh, Lord, she's not
a vegan, is she?

Oh, no, no,
she loves meat.

She's not responding
to my texts.

Phone must be dead.

Can't get a surprise no.

Christine?

The desk said
she checked in.

The convention's over.

She should be here.

Mac.

Christine?

Christine?

Christine?

Where is she?

What the hell is going on?

I'll call my team.

Damn it!

Still not answering.

Let's just wait and see
what my guys come up with.

Well, I know
what broke the table.

It's got blood on it.

Looks like transfer
from a hand.

There's no tissue

or any other blood around,
so it wasn't used as a weapon.

I think someone came
through the door

with their hands
already bloody.

Would account for the smear
on the knob.

At some point, they grabbed

this thing, maybe out of

anger or to intimidate,

and they threw it
through the table.

I've got something.

Check it out.

Looks like a man's
dress shirt.

I don't see any

stab marks or bullet holes.

All this blood was
on the outside.

Didn't soak through
to the back.

Or transfer.

Whoever was wearing this shirt
wasn't the one who was bleeding.

Huh.Could be our suspect.

So who's the victim?

Whereis the victim?

Marc Ratelle.
47 years old.

Owner of Château Ratelle.

Paris address.

Came to Vegas three days ago

to attend
the Vogel wine auction.

He has no criminal history.

Well, Vegas is always
a good place to start.

Brass has a BOLO out
for his rental car.

Ratelle checked into a suite
at the Tangiers on Sunday.

He booked it for a week.

According to the guy
at the front desk,

he had a change of plans

and he checked
out this morning.

Gee, I wonder why.

What do you got?

Brass.

Somebody just broke into
Vogel's wine cellar.

Mr. Ratelle!

Please!

Calm down!Oh, what?

I watch American television.

You will shoot me?

I won't shoot you,

but I will light you up.

You would not dare.

I am standing

in a pool of water!
Water?

You mean wine.

I mean...

what I mean.

Mr. Ratelle, calm down.

Let's not make this

into an international incident,
all right?

Marc! Marc.

What's going on?

First you want
to buy back your wine,

now you want to destroy it all?

Okay, Officer Mitchell,
light him up.

Don't bother.

I surrender.

Huh?

J'ai fini.

Hey. Got your text.

What do you got?

I analyzed the blood
from the shirt,

as well as what
was collected

from the door frame
and paperweight.

All three samples

are consistent
with a single donor.

Unknown female.

Uh... okay.

We're gonna need an exemplar
of Christine Whitney's DNA.

I'll call New York,

have someone go by her place.

That the wine from Marc
Ratelle's grab and smash?

Yeah, I'm gonna send
the broken bits

over to Henry
to run for blood.

Well, I hope
they tell us something,

because Marc isn't.

He's demanding to speak
to the French consul general.

But guess what I found

in the back of
Ratelle's car.

A bottle of 1936
Château Ratelle.

And, according to customs,

this little bottle
here is worth--

wait for it--

$82,000.

Totally insane.

Well, I'm about to make you

even more insane.

Something is rotten
in the state of Bordeaux.

You may be holding
a genuine '36 Château Ratelle,

but all the wine
that was found

at the grab and smash--

I don't think
it's the genuine article.

It doesn't smell right.

I know these labels
match, but...

the whole thing seems off.

So, it's fake?

According to your
impeccable sense of taste

and your oenological
olfactory acuity?

I like that.

But you're right.

We need more
than my palate and nose.

We need science.

You're not gonna...

Hodges!

That's $82,000
worth of...

Evidence.

Oh, my God.

This is so good.

I have to give it to you.
Mm-hmm.

And this is so
against the rules.

I love it.

Well, as the Italians say,

the only way
to live a little

is to cheat a little.

Hmm?

Tobacco, cedar,

mocha, leather...

hints of cassis,
cherries...

You are really serious.

So is this.
This is the real deal.

Huh.
What does the GCMS say?

Wow.

The wine
from the smashed bottles

contains presence
of radioactive isotopes.

So?

So it suggests
a vintage

that's more recent than 1936.

One born of the nuclear age.

After World War II,

with the advent
of nuclear testing,

fallout changed the chemistry

of the soil
all around the globe.

Specifically, with the ratio
of carbon-14 to carbon-12,

which makes its way
into wine through grapes.

I guess now we know why Ratelle

was smashing bottles
in the wine cellar.

They were counterfeit.
Mm-hmm.

Could be the same story

for the case of '36 Ratelle

that was for auction.

If he knew
that it was fake,

why would he do that?

Monsieur Ratelle,

the consul general
is on his way.

But while we wait
in the meantime,

I hope you'll indulge me.

I... I'm a curious guy,

and something about this
just isn't adding up.

So, Jack Davari is
making counterfeit

1936 Château Ratelle.

You find out about it,
you get angry.

I mean, you're a...
you're a fiery kind of guy.

You go to see him,

things get
out of hand...

you killed him.

I mean, I get
that part, I do.

But what I don't get is why

you first offered
to pay him $200,000

for a case of what you knew
was just grape juice.

I was defending my family honor.

You would not understand.

Why don't you give me a try?

I am...

the descendant of a family

that has been producing
fine wine in Bordeaux

since the age of Napoleon.

We have witnessed war,

drought, pestilence,

California Merlot...

...and we have survived
them all.

And you couldn't survive
one schmuck

who was watering down
your brand?

Brand?

We... we are not talking

about a six-pack of beer.

Le trente-six Ratelle

is the finest vintage produced

in Bordeaux in the last century.

Only 1,200 bottles
were ever produced.

Only 609 bottles are left
in the entire world.

I-I actually think it's 608.
I saw the lab report...

This is how I knew
that Monsieur Jack Davari

was passing off
counterfeit bottles.

So why didn't you
call the police?

And ruin the reputation
of the vintage forever?

The only thing more delicate

than a wine...

is its reputation.

So that's why you offered
to pay Davari the money.

Keep things hush-hush,

and keep the phony wine
off the market.

To preserve the integrity
of the Ratelle name.

Which is why I may

be "fiery," as you say,

but I am no murderer.

No.

♪ ♪

Finn.
Yeah?

Look what I got.

Diamonds and men.

Not a good combination for me.

Maybe you haven't found
the right man.

I found it mixed in
with the broken glass

from the hotel room.

Laser-inscribed serial number.

Should get us to the owner.

It's closed.

I don't think so.

Safe's wide open.

We got a body.

Got a pool of blood.

Blood leading out the back door.

That looks like two
to the chest.

Got something.

Christine's phone.

She was here.

The jewelry store owner's name
was Ronald Sadat.

52, no family.

But he did leave behind
one interested party.

LVPD investigated Sadat
for money laundering

three years ago,
but the case was dropped

for lack of evidence.

Now, the crime scene suggests

a-a robbery gone bad.
He-he pulls a gun out

from behind the counter,
fires two shots--

one hit,
one miss.

And you found Christine's cell
phone by the second blood pool.

And the blood did match
the blood

we found in the hotel room.
Christine's room.

We still don't have an
exemplar from New York,

so we-we don't know
that it's her yet.

What else do you have?

Okay, we found a print
on the jeweler's safe.

A hit came back
to a James Boyd.

Queens address.
Jimmy Boyd?

Why? Do you know him?

Boyd manages
Christine's restaurant.

So Boyd came with Christine
for the restaurant convention?

No, no. The last I heard,

she was gonna fire him--
guy's trouble.

What kind of trouble?
Gambling debts.

Hangs out
with the wrong crowd.

Christine wants nothing
to do with this guy.

Are you sure
about that, Mac?

What's that supposed to mean?

Well, like I said,
we found her cell phone.

There were quite
a few messages between her,

Boyd and that jewelry shop

owner, Sadat.

About Christine wanting
to open up

a new restaurant in Las Vegas,

and Sadat was going to invest.

She never said anything
about wanting to open

a restaurant out here--
she's got her hands full

with the one she has now.

According
to the messages,

Christine was the one
who set up the meeting

at the jewelry store,

and, uh, the
messages were...

pretty flirtatious.

Then it's not her.

'Cause that wouldn't happen.
All right,

all right, let's-let's just
go back to Boyd.

We know that he was
in the jewelry store,

but where are we thinking
that he went from there?

And is he with Christine?
Well, the blood trail

led out the back door
to Sadat's parking spot.

Car wasn't there.
We checked his pants--

no keys-- so we sent

a BOLO out right away.

Don't worry. We'll find it.

Okay.

Looks like our angry Frenchman

has an alibi for the murder
of Jack Davari.

Busy smashing wine
somewhere else?

No, hitting the minibar
in his own hotel room.

Wait, I thought Ratelle
checked out early.
Not early enough.

Doc has Davari's
time of death at 2:00 a.m.

Hotel keycard records
show Ratelle

in his room
at 1:44 a.m.,

and he called
the front desk

at 2:15 to ask
for a wake-up call.

Okay, uh, I guess we
need a new suspect.

Well, I may have already
found one.

I got a subpoena
for the auction records.

The anonymous bidder who paid a
million for the counterfeit case

of Ratelle...

he's got a name.

Jonah Drake,
plastic surgeon

and wine collector.

Hope you don't nip and tuck
under the influence.

And I hope this is important,
Detective.

Because my fiancée

and I were in the middle
of a romantic lunch.

We didn't appreciate
being dragged away by a cop

right as I was popping
the question.

You two can rekindle
your romance after I pop

a couple of questions
of my own.

About Jack Davari.

You knew him, right?

Casually, yeah.
Really? You just "casually"

pay a million bucks
for a case of wine?

Two hours after that,
you call him up.

An hour later, he's dead.

I think you're making
a mistake here.

I think the only mistake
that was made

was your million-dollar
wine purchase.

Look, it may seem crazy,
Detective,

but honestly,

a million for a case
of '36 Ratelle?

It's kind of a steal.

I bet Jack was thinking
the same thing.

Which is why you killed him.

What are you talking about?

We both know
that the Ratelle is a fake.

No, that's impossible.

Samantha and I

just drank a bottle
of it for lunch.

Trust me, it was very real.
Yeah.

Chemical analysis doesn't lie.

Jack Davari ripped you off--
that's why you called him up,

that's why you killed him,

that's why you stuffed
his body in a barrel.

I called to buy more wine.

You wanted more?
Why, in fact,

Samantha and I had an
argument over that.

What? O-Over buying
more wine?

Well, I... thought
it was frivolous.

Spending all that money on wine,
it made me anxious.

I'm sorry.

I'm from Boston. We don't like
flaunting our wealth.

Don't worry.

I'll fix that.

Look, so...

can we go?
Yeah, you can go.

But leave your pager on.

We may need to talk
to you again.

Hodges called

every barrel maker in France.

He found somebody who shipped
four Tronçais forest casks

to Jack Davari at this address.

Whoa.

This is one serious
winemaking operation.

More like one serious
counterfeiting operation.

Davari was making
his own labels.

Looks like he was using spices
to enhance the flavor.

Make it taste more like the wine
he was trying to mimic.

Well, with his
world-class palate,

I bet he was pretty good at it.

Doing his own bottling, too.

Got a corking machine.

Think I found how Jack Davari
got that hole in his hand.

Somebody wiped that down.
Mm-hmm.

Missed a spot.

I'll take a picture
and send it to Mandy.

Missed a spot here, too.

Looks like blood, high-velocity
spatter from a gunshot.

Somebody tried to clean up.

Got some more blood here.

Gravitational drop.

Maybe from the wound
on Davari's hand.
Or...

if there was a struggle, it
could've come from the killer.

Mandy's on the job.

I know him.
Tom Scola.

He wanted to sell me a bottle
of wine for $100,000.

Let's see what else
he tries to sell you.

So, Tommy, here I
thought you just worked

for Albert Vogel,
the auctioneer, but...

guess what we found
when we were processing

Jack Davari's
counterfeit operation.

I don't know, but I'm sure
you're gonna tell me.

Your fingerprints.
They were everywhere.

They were on
the bottles,

they were on the barrels,

they were on the phony labels,
they were on

the corking machine that punched
a hole in Jack Davari's hand

right before a bullet punched
a hole in his face, so...

what happened?

Did you guys have a falling out?

I would never kill Jack.

We were friends, okay?

I find that kind of hard
to believe.

Jack ran around
in $5,000 tuxedos,

and you're a
glorified errand boy.

I mean, I buy
that he was your boss.

Hey. We grew up together.

We used to run numbers
for his dad.

Then his dad went
to prison, and...

his mom died,

so Jack and I needed
to figure out a new way

to make some money.

Are you saying
that Jack Davari, the man,

is as counterfeit as his wine?

I'm saying that we had
a good thing going.

How long you
been doing this?

About three years.

We used to wait tables,

and we'd watch
these rich guys, you know,

buying $5,000 bottles
like it was nothing.

So we started stealing
the empties.

We'd copy the bottle,
the label, the cork.

Then Jack would find some
cheap wine that tasted similar,

add some flavor.

The more we did it,
the better we got.

Okay, so you work your way
up the food chain.

You start counterfeiting
rare vintages.

You get Vogel involved.

Or, wait a minute,
was Vogel in on it?

No.

He had no clue-- he thought

Jack was some
rich guy from L.A.

We were just getting started.

We had this surgeon,
Jonah Drake--

we had him on the hook, man.

You know, right after
the auction, he called Jack,

and he wanted even more Ratelle.

Okay, so again, what happened?

Did Jack decide
to cut you out of the grift?

Or did you just
get jealous?

I mean, come on,
let's be honest,

Jack's job was fun--
he went to fancy parties,

he drank amazing wine, he chased

beautiful women...
I hate to burst your bubble,

but I was nowhere near
the warehouse

the night that Jack was killed.

Where were you?
After the auction,

I cooled off at the Acid Strip.

I was there all night.

I know the owner,
so you can ask him.
Oh, I will.

I'm also gonna need
a sample of your DNA.

Hey.

Any word on Jimmy Boyd?
No, not yet.

Cops are still looking
for Sadat's car.

Been reading through
all these texts.

I can't wrap my head
around the idea

that Christine was keeping
secrets from me.

Well, maybe
she just wanted

the restaurant to be a surprise.

No, no.

There's something we're missing.

Her hooking up with Boyd
and this jewelry store guy...

none of it makes sense.

Let me ask you something, Mac.

How well do you know Christine?

I know her... well.

More importantly, I know
what kind of woman she is.

When I got shot,
she was...

she was at the hospital every
single day for six months.

Russ, I woke up and she
was sitting by my bedside,

praying for me.

That is not the kind
of woman who...

Okay.

They found Sadat's car.

Pop the trunk.

It's not her.

Ran the victim's prints.

Name's Kim Hasset.

Two drug priors.

Last known address-- Queens.

Like Boyd.

Girlfriend maybe.

Suffered a single gunshot
to the abdomen.

Judging by the amount of
blood, she didn't die quick.

Time of death?24 hours roughly.

Fits the timeline of the
jewelry store robbery.

She could be our
unknown female.

Yeah, possibly.

Still doesn't answer
the question,

where is Christine?

We know Boyd hit
the jewelry store,

probably with
this woman,

stole this car,
and dumped it here.

That makes sense.

Palermo's across the street.

Boyd goes back
to the hotel, cleans up,

picks up some
of his personal effects.

Maybe more
than that.

If he was holding
Christine captive

in the room, maybe
he went to get her.

So, what's his next move?

He can't take this car,
not looking the way it does.

Check it out.

Gold paint.

Look at that.

What, is that transfer?

Somebody pulled
out of here

in a hurry.

Boyd switched cars.

Let's get this paint
back to the lab,

see if we can find the
vehicle it came from.

Hey, I ran the blood

you and Sara found at
the wine warehouse.

Two contributors--

our victim Jack Davari
and our suspect Tom Scola.

What?

What? I thought
you'd be happy.

You got your man.

Well, not according
to the Acid Strip.

Scola said that he went to the
strip club after the auction.

The owner, the bouncer,
the bartender and surveillance

all confirm that he was there
at the time of the murder.

There's no way, no.

Not only was it Scola's
blood at the scene;

it was commingled
with the victim's.

He had to have
killed him.

There's no other explanation.
It says here
that you found

heightened levels
of estrogen in his blood?

Yeah, I figured maybe Scola
was undergoing treatment

for prostate cancer.

It would explain why a man has
increased estrogen levels.

Or he might not be
the one with the cancer.

I'm gonna need
to get a warrant

for Scola's
medical records.

Tom Scola may have done a lot

of bad in his life, but he did
at least one good thing.

He was a bone marrow donor.

When a patient receives
a bone marrow transplant,

the sick bone marrow cells
are destroyed and replaced

by the healthy bone marrow
cells of the donor.

And since bone marrow produces
blood cells in the body,

the transplant recipient
begins producing blood cells

with DNA identical

to the donor.

The problem is, it's
hard to find a match,

but the odds
are better

when the transplant is
from sibling to sibling.

Say, from a brother to a sister.

Your brother told us
about Jack Davari

not being who
he said he was,

but he left
out the part

about his sister.

Who went from being Samantha
Scola from Northtown

to the very uptown
Samantha Wilson

from Boston, right,
where you were taught

not to flaunt your wealth.

Everyone's entitled
to a second chance.

I agree.

So how come you didn't
give one to Jack Davari?

We searched
your Range Rover,

found blood in the back and
trace from the wine barrel.

Samantha, this is your one
chance to help yourself

and your brother.

Think you owe it to him.

Because we will
definitely

go after him as
a coconspirator.

No, no, Tommy had nothing
to do with this.

I didn't want to kill Jack;
I just wanted out.

Out of what?

The grift.

We all had
our jobs.

Tommy had
the connection to Vogel.

Jack had the polish,
the palate.

I worked the guys,
softened 'em up.

So,

what changed?

Jonah Drake.

I fell in love
with him.

I wanted Jack
to find another mark.

Jonah was just so hot
for that Château Ratelle.

He was going to go back in
and buy more of it.

Was going to walk
into the same scam again,

so I went to Jack, asked him
to leave Jonah alone.

This guy's a gold mine.

Give me a break, Sam, go find
yourself another boyfriend.

I'll tell him
you're a fraud.
No, you won't

because then I'll have to tell
him how you pay the rent.

Not anymore-- I'm out.

Once a whore,
always a whore.

You work for me.

I own you.

Bitch!

I just wanted
to be with Jonah.

He was going to give me
the life I'd dreamed of,

help me become
the person I really am.

I couldn't let Jack
take that away from me.

You understand, don't you?

I don't, no.

Poor guy.

He only loved two
things in life--

you and Château Ratelle.

And they both turned
out to be fake.

Hey, Russ.
Yeah.

You got something?
Yeah, I got

Sadat's car.

That paint
transfer came back

to a '95 Ford,
stolen yesterday.

Now, patrol just picked
up Boyd on Route 16,

just east of the
Utah state line.

What about Christine?

Boyd was alone.
200 miles

of desert between here
and the state line.

She could be
anywhere.

Did you tell Mac yet?
No, I figured

I'd tell you first.

I mean, Boyd's at PD,

but I don't think
it's such a good idea

to let Mac in that
interrogation room just yet.

Or it could be a great idea.

Give us a second,
will you?

You know who I am.

Right, Jimmy?
I know.

I also know that
that NYPD badge of yours

doesn't mean squat here.

Where's Christine?

You want something?

'Cause I want something.

This is not a real good
time to play the smart-ass.

I'm not playing.

I want out of here,
and I want back to New York.

You're not going anywhere.

If I don't go back,
Christine dies.

You son of a bitch,
where is she?

Where is she?!
She's in New York.

That's why I got
to go back.

Christine is in New York.
She never came to Vegas.

What the hell are
you talking about?

I owe money... to a loan shark
back in New York--

enough that he's willing
to kill me.

What's this have to
do with Christine?

I needed to use her
to pay him off.

How?
A few months back,

the jeweler Sadat-- he comes
into Christine's restaurant,

he asks me to introduce him
to the owner

because he wants to build

another place like that
in Vegas.

Sadat wanted to invest.

I knew that Christine
was coming back here,

and my... my girlfriend Kim--
she looks exactly like her,

so all I had to do
was just set up the meet,

rip Sadat off...

So the text messages--
you're the one who sent them.

You had
Christine's phone.

I had her phone,
I had the plane reservation,

I had the hotel.

I mean, i-it's just
supposed to be easy,

you know...

Where is she?
She's with my brother.
My brother has her.

You're going to
call him, and you're

going to tell
him it's over!

I can't.
Don't play with me,
Jimmy! Come on!

I... The guy I owe--

he got nervous
and he grabbed 'em up.

He grabbed 'em up.

I don't know
where they're at.

Okay, all I know is that,
if I don't bring the diamonds

tomorrow night,
they're dead.

They're dead!

I'm taking that bastard
back to New York

with the diamonds,
he's going to pay off

the scumbag he owes,
I'm gonna get Christine back.

Mac, you can't just

hop on a plane
with a killer and a bunch

of stolen diamonds.
I don't have a choice.

I don't have time
for red tape.

You heard what
he said, Russell.

She's going to die.

I heard, I heard.

I love this woman.

She saved my life.

I'm not saying
don't do this.

I'm just saying
you're gonna need my help.

I'm coming with you.