All language subtitles for Elementary (2012) - S01E08 - The Long Fuse (1080p AMZN WEB-DL x265 RZeroX)

(overlapping voices on TV)

Don't you ever get tired
of this memory game?

You do it every morning.
The mind is a muscle, Watson.

It needs to be exercised
regularly lest it turn flabby.

Most people
just read a book.

I am reading a book.

Well, do you mind
turning it off for a minute?

I want to finish our
conversation from last night.

(sighs)

Okay, I meant
all of them.

Absorbing and cataloguing
several pieces of information

at the same time
is the whole point.

Talk away.

Okay, well, then I want us
to get more serious

about finding a sponsor.

Why do I need a sponsor
when I have a companion?

Because you only have me
for a few more weeks.

A sponsor is permanent,
someone who's...

struggled with their
own addictions

and is gonna offer you
lifelong support and advice,

which is what you need.

The drugs that I took
seemed to light up my brain.

Suddenly I realized

the power I held,
the power to rule,

to make the world grovel
at my feet.

(video rewinding)

The drugs I took seemed
to light up my brain.

Suddenly I realized
the power I held,

the power to rule,

to make the world grovel
at my feet.

Okay.

Well, I know someone
who might be a good fit for you.

I've worked with him before.

Let's have coffee
with him, okay?

If I needed a sponsor,
that would sound delightful.

I don't. Just like I didn't
need a sober companion.

And you didn't need rehab

and you didn't
need drug counseling

and you didn't need
any help of any kind.

I know.

It's just coffee.

Sherlock.
Fine. I'll go.

Provided I can get some peace
and quiet around here.

(overlapping voices)

MAN: We completely
understand, Mr. McKeon.

Fluid layout.

No, we-we agree, uh...

grid-based design, it's gone
the way of the dinosaur.

Will do.

All right. Take care.

Our favorite client's
still wringing his hands?

Guy just does not get
Web design.

'Course, he's like 45
or something.

(beeping)

Is that you?

(beeping continues)
No.

I think it's coming
from inside the vent.

(beeping continues)

Yeah, repair guy must have
dropped his phone or something.

MAN: That's going
to make us crazy.

MAN 2:
I'll call maintenance.

(beeping continues)

♪ Elementary 1x08 ♪
The Long Fuse
Original Air Date on November 29, 2012

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪

The blast detonated in
the southeast corner

of the office around
9:15 this morning.

Killed two people,

Dave Preston and Royce Maltz,

and injured 11 more.

Chemical composition
of the device?

The bomb squad's
working on it.

All they know
for sure is that

the bomb was stashed
in that air vent.

Both of the victims were
employees of this company?

BELL:
Parabolic Web Industries.

They design and maintain
corporate Web sites.

We're looking
into whether anybody had beef

with the firm.

OFFICER:
Captain?

I imagine you won't miss this
when you're gone.

In a few weeks,
you'll be with your new client.

No more crime scenes,
no more death and destruction.

Most dangerous place you'll go
is a support group meeting

where they've run out of coffee.

Firstly, I don't have
a next client, and secondly,

you're right, I'm not gonna
miss seeing this stuff.

You see this?

That's packing paper.

It's used to fill the gap

between the fuel and the
blast cap on a pipe bomb.

When the bomb detonates,

this paper is ejected
through the barrel

before it has time
to fully combust.

Now, weapons-grade munitions
uses pulp filler,

not newspaper.

The bomb squad
said the same thing.

We're already
running a check

on recent
commercial burglaries

to see if
anyone's missing

any flammable chemicals
or gunpowder.

You got something?

Motherboard.

BELL: You know this is
a computer company, right?

Well, that's just it, Detective.

This is not from a computer.

It's from a pager.

Note the presence of a receiver

but the absence
of a transmitter.

What's it doing here?

Pre-explosion, this place looked
like the deck of a starship.

It's unlikely any of
the firm's employees

would use technology
as antiquated as a pager.

You're saying
it's part of the bomb?

I'm saying this may be
the bomb's detonator.

The good news is, if it's
not too badly damaged,

you'll be able to trace
the account.

I'll get this
to tech assist right away.

I'll let you know
when we hear something.

If the motherboard
is still functional, how long

do you think it's gonna take
the police to get a number?

Two, maybe three hours. Why?

WATSON:
The sponsor's name is Adrian,

and he works on the floor
of the stock exchange.

Good thinking, Watson.

You know how much
I enjoy bankers.

Glad to see
you've been paying attention

over the last few weeks.

Actually, he's an officer
with the SEC.

So he spends his days
keeping bankers in line.

He also spent four years at
the London School of Economics,

so he knows
your old stomping grounds.

You think I'd just pick any name
out of a hat? Oh, there he is.

Hey, Adrian.

Hi. Adrian, Sherlock.

Pleasure.

Well, you guys talk.

I'll be over there
when you're ready.

A hypothetical, Adrian.

I call you in the middle
of the night,

I tell you that I'm thinking
of using again,

and that if I don't,
I might die.

How do you respond?

Well, Sherlock,
I think I'd start

by reminding you, you got
to take it one day at a time,

and that every clean
day is a victory.

I call you and tell you
that an enemy has poisoned me

with a powerful
neuroleptic agent.

The only antidote is a
healthy dose of diphenhydramine,

of which I have plenty.

Do you advise me to take it?

Diphen...

Diphenhydramine.

You find
murder-by-poisoning humorous?

No, of course not. I just...

The diphenhydramine,
Adrian, do I take it?

If it's gonna save your life,

then yeah, of course you do.

That's your idea of a
good fit, seriously?

I told you, he's one
of the best sponsors I know.

Peter Platitude? I was waiting
for him to hold my hand

so we could recite
the Serenity Prayer.

Okay, if you want to hear
something other that platitudes,

try listening to the guy
for more than two minutes.

The man encouraged me to take
diphenhydramine, Watson.

A deliriant.

The Republic of Zambia
recently classified that

a controlled substance.

Now, what kind of a sponsor
would allow his sponsee

to risk their sobriety
over a simple case

of neuroleptic poisoning?

Okay, you think I don't know

there's no right answer
to that question?

You don't want Adrian?

Okay. This is a process.

We can look for other candidates
at group tonight.

But know this: We are gonna
find you a sponsor

before my stint is up, okay?

(phone ringing)

Ha.

Captain.

That motherboard you found--

bomb squad confirmed
it was part of the device,

so touché.

The pager it was part of
was prepaid,

so there was no subscriber info,

but luckily, the tech assist

was able to pull
a number off it.

And the same phone
called the pager

three times this morning,

and each call was within seconds
of the bomb going off.

Were you able
to trace the number?

Yeah, to a plumber
named Rennie Jacobs from Queens.

And get this,
he just did a six-year stretch

for burning down his apartment

in an insurance fraud scheme.

Any particular reason

he'd want to depredate
that Web design firm?

No clue, but, uh,
if you want to see him

live and in person,
he just got here.

I was just trying
to call in

a breakfast sandwich order,
that's it.

Three times you called
that pager, Mr. Jacobs.

Three times.

You said the pager number
was 555-0164, right?

212 area code?

I was trying to call
Miracle Deli on 113th.

Their number is off

by one digit. 0165.

I must've misdialed, 'cause
when they didn't answer,

(line ringing)

I hit redial.

Twice.

MAN: Miracle Deli.
Pickup or delivery?

He's telling the truth

about the numbers being off
by a single digit.

Yeah, we know.

Coincidence bugs me, but not
enough to cut him loose.

(phone vibrates)

I got to step out.

Bomb squad wants to brief me.

(door opens, closes)

You don't look convinced.

Bomb-building
is a dangerous venture.

It requires patience,
precision,

attention to detail.

Mr. Jacobs' wristwatch
is nine minutes slow

and his fly
is three-quarters down.

That doesn't scream
detail-oriented.

Ted Kaczynski looked like
a hobo puked another hobo.

He managed
to hurt plenty of people.

Point taken.

Yeah.

Can I help you?

This is the, uh...

the bomb's power source,
I presume?

Six volt.

Very interesting company,
PrimSource Battery.

Founded in 1888
by British expat

and purveyor
of mechanical novelties,

Hubert Primler.

They switched to making
batteries full-time in 1907,

each one stamped
with the company's

now iconic rising-sun logo.

The logo remained unchanged
until 2008,

when a small oak tree was added

to commemorate
the company's centenary.

Yet this one has no oak tree.

That means that battery

is more than four years old.

Odd, isn't it,
go to all that trouble

building an elaborate
explosive device

and then power it with an old

and potentially
unreliable battery?

Odd, yes,
but not impossible.

Holmes, Holmes,
I've only got a few minutes here

to pick Bennett's brain
before I have

to stand in front
of 20 cameras

to explain what happened
this morning.

What about that?
What about what?

OFFICER:
It's the president.

Wrong. It's the senator.
Captain...

Senator Obama,
not President Obama.

You can tell from the lack
of gray in his hair.

He's right. I can make
out a date on this one.

October 13, 2008.

So, what are you saying?

That battery is four years old.

These shreds of newspaper
are four years old.

The bomb that exploded
this morning was four years old.

But why would the suspect
build a bomb

and sit on it for four years?

He wouldn't have.

And in Rennie Jacobs's case,
he couldn't have.

He was in prison
four years ago.

I think he was telling the truth

when he said he dialed
the wrong number this morning.

We have the man who set it off
accidentally in 2012.

Now we just need the man who
intended to set it off in 2008.

You're sure he's not the
one who built the bomb?

Sure? No.

Reasonably certain? Yeah.

The NYPD can continue
to poke and prod him.

In the meantime,
you and I can push forward

on this, our new front.

It is a lovely front.

Hmm. Vanowen
Strategic Communications.

Public relations consultancy
founded in 1994

by Harrington School of Business
alumna Heather Vanowen.

The firm is particularly adept
at solving image crises

of the corporate variety,

making them one-stop shopping
for many of the Fortune 500.

Spin doctors
of the highest order, and

former tenants
of the midtown offices

ravaged by a homemade bomb
this morning.

They occupied the space
until December 2008.

Now, if I'm right and the bomb
was planted that October,

this company
or one of its employees

may have been
the intended target.

WOMAN:
Mr. Holmes?

Heather Vanowen.

This is Earl Wheeler, my CFO.

We were told you work
with the police.

I'm their consultant.

This is Miss Watson.

She is my consultant,
slash housekeep.

So, how can we
help you today?

Well, you can start
by telling us

who maybe have wanted
to blow you up in 2008.

I'm stunned.

I-I saw the story
on the news this morning.

I knew that was our old
office space, but...

I never would have guessed
that that bomb

was meant for us.
WHEELER: So you honestly think

it was just sitting
there this whole time?

The police think it was tucked
into an air vent.

If that part of the building's
climate control system

had never needed repair--

and judging by this morning's
events, it didn't--

it could have gone
undiscovered indefinitely.

Okay, but why this morning?

Why'd it go off
after all this time?

The bomb was detonated
by a pager.

In 2008, the company
that made that pager

had no signal towers within
42 blocks of your old offices.

In 2010,

they erected a new tower

a mere three blocks away.

So the bomb didn't detonate

in 2008 because the call
couldn't go through.

The question is:
Who built the device,

and what may they have had
against your company?

I'm sure that we've made
our fair share of enemies

along the way, but, um...
someone who would build

a bomb?

The ELM.

The Earth Liberty Militia.

We got some threatening letters
from them in 2008.

They're an ecoterrorist
group, right?

They've bombed a few other
companies over the years.

What would an ecoterrorist group
have against a PR firm?

Our clients.

We work with some of
the major energy conglomerates.

Occasionally we
have to help them

smooth over their
image after mishaps.

200 million gallons of oil

spilling into the Gulf,
for example?

The ELM sent us
seven letters in 2008.

I know that we kept hard copies
of them in our records room.

You want to take a look?

We would.

Effluvium, fussbudget, Cairo.

Nine across,
14 down, 32 down.

I-I have a sort of thing
for puzzles.

When I first tried
getting clean,

I started drinking.

Before long, I realized
that I had swapped

one addiction
for another.

Please put those away.

"You cannot stop this.
You can only submit.

Submit or be destroyed."

That's something
the ELM would say.

Here...

Not the time,
not the place.

I'm sorry, but from a forensic
linguistics standpoint,

these threats are
quite fascinating.

For example, I see clues here
that would suggest

that the ELM was not
an organization, per se,

but one man posing
as an organization

Seriously, can you just
examine those at home?

We have work
to do here.

Oh, yeah.
Sponsor Search 2012.

I have to say, Watson,

it's a bit of
a motley crew tonight.

I don't think these are
my kind of addicts.

I think this is going to be
a much longer

and more involved process
than we initially thought.

You have 23 days.

Then our time is up.

MAN: My name is Alfredo,
and I'm an addict.

ALL:
Hi, Alfredo.

ALFREDO: Started boosting cars
when I was 14.

By the time I turned 18,

I was the best there is.

Ain't a car in the city
I can't steal.

Him.

Hmm?
Now I'm flush with cash,

I'm bored... I turn to drugs.

I want him to
be my sponsor.

Took my first hit at 19...

This phrase,
"on your beam ends,"

it appears in five
of the seven threats.

I'm certain I've heard
it before; I just...

can't recall where.

"On your beam ends."

A nautical idiom
first documented

in Captain Frederick
Marryat's 1830 novel

The King's Own,

signifying a situation
of great peril.

Strange for such
an aberrant phrase

to appear so repeatedly.

Are you seriously
going to make me ask?

Ask what?
About your sponsor, Alfredo.

Delightful fellow.

He's agreed to meet us
both tomorrow for coffee.

So we can get to
know one another.

You don't approve?

I'm just a little confused,
that's all.

I mean, you actually met Adrian.

You talked to him
before you turned him down.

You heard Alfredo speak
for 15 seconds.

Oh, have you not
figured out by now

that I see far more
than your average addict?

My observational skills
are second to none.

I know. I know that.
I just... I want to leave you

in the best situation possible.
It's important to me.

Got it.
Good. I'm glad.

No. "On your beam ends."

I've got it.

I know where I was
when I heard it.

That one.

That's where I saw it,
weeks ago.

But what was the context?

Yellow cartoon sponge man,

sports news,
mouthwash advert,

Arctic Blue...

You want to tell me
what you're doing?

Uh, method of loci,
mnemonic device.

Relies on memorized spatial
relationships to establish,

catalogue and recollect
memorial content.

If I remember what was
on these six screens,

I'll remember what
was on the seventh.

Fat lady, new cookbook,
insufferable.

Erectile dysfunction.
Nature program, penguins.

And... talk show.

The topic was...
international whaling laws.

Two guests got into an argument.

MAN:
You are not seriously suggesting

that cleaning out the
Pacific Ocean is a good idea.

What do you suggest
we tell the Japanese worker

whose livelihood
depends upon this trade?

MAN:
Just... you don't get it.

One day 50 yrs from now,
when you're on your beam ends,

you'll wish you'd done
more when you could have.

That's the same bombast

I read in the ELM letters.

It's the same hyperbole.

Same weird phrase.

You really think it's him?

I know a way to find out.

MAN:
I'm confused, Detective.

You're accusing me of being
some sort of ecoterrorist?

One of our special consultants

thinks your speech pattern
is a match for these letters.

For the last time,

I have never seen
these letters before.

I don't know anything
about the ELM,

and I certainly didn't
build any bombs.

Lie, lie and lie.

Who the hell are you?

I am the man with the button.

It's from the elevator
down the hall.

You pushed it
to get to this floor.

As soon as you disembarked,
I removed it,

and took it to the department's
latent print unit.

It has your fingerprint
on it, you see.

Which means it has
a great deal in common

with a component
from a bomb the ELM detonated

in a lumber mill
in Utica in 2005.

Button... bomb.

Button...
bomb.

The similarities are quite
striking, wouldn't you agree?

You built the ELM bombs,
Mr. Knowles.

And you wrote
those letters.

It's too bad you didn't
go back for the one

you left at Vanowen S.C. when
you realized it was defective.

Maybe you wouldn't be facing
two murder charges today.

I bombed that lumber mill.

And I wrote these letters
to Vanowen S.C.

But you know what I didn't do?

Follow up on them.

By 2008, I had
successfully detonated

nitrate-based bombs at
five different companies.

I was established,
and I was taken very seriously.

Vanowen S.C. was one of
several dozen businesses

I threatened but never bombed.

Why am I not surprised
you'd take credit

for every bombing except

the one that
killed two people?

(small explosion)
WATSON: Was that you?

Was what me?

What did those balls
ever do to you?

(breathing deeply)

They're dying
for a good cause, Watson.

Of course they are.
Ah!

Did you know

that when a bomb explodes,

the component that houses
the fuel is often atomized?

Now, this can make it difficult,
if not downright impossible,

to identify the device's
chemical composition.

The NYPD bomb squad
is currently struggling

with this very conundrum,
so I thought I would help.

With tennis balls?
I'm attempting to replicate

the odor and burn pattern
of the office bombing

using a few of my own
concoctions, and these balls

make the perfect
delivery mechanism.

(breathing deeply)

(sniffing)

When Edgar Knowles was
arrested this afternoon,

he confessed to setting off

five nitrate-based bombs
at various businesses.

No self-respecting eco-warrior

would use toxic, man-made
chemicals in his bombs.

He would use
natural ingredients.

Smells like fertilizer.

With good reason.

Beyond its horticultural
employments,

fertilizer can be
distilled down

and mixed into a rather potent
nitrate accelerant.

This ball is filled
with the stuff.

If Knowles did try
to blow up Vanowen S.C.,

he would have used nitrates,
and if he'd used nitrates,

the bomb would have filled
the air with an odor

as pungent
as it is distinctive,

the same odor that
you're smelling right now.

The thing is,
I didn't smell

any fertilizer
when we were there.

I smelled something else.

It was foreign to me
in the moment, but...

I have managed to recreate it
with the help of

my little
round friends here.

I am now certain
that the bomb was made

using potassium chlorate.

It's an accelerant made of

gasoline, bleach
and petroleum jelly.

Are you saying that Edgar
Knowles was telling the truth

when he told you that
he didn't build the bomb

that exploded at Vanowen S.C.?

I am.

Well, if he didn't
build it, who did?

Haven't the foggiest.

(indistinct chatter,
phone ringing)

(raps on fence)
Hey.

Heard you were
looking for me?

Yesterday, you gave us
Edgar Knowles on a silver platter.

Now you're telling me

he did every bomb
except for the one

from two days ago?
As I said before,

that bomb was built using
potassium chlorate.

Yeah, and Knowles only used
ones with cow manure.

I heard you.
That's not enough.

There's more.
I came in this morning

to reexamine the bomb's components,
and I pieced together

some of the strips
of packing paper

that were used.
I managed to form

almost a third of a page
of the October 13 edition

of the New York Times.

This particular clump
caught my eye.

I saw small, almost
imperceptible indentations

along the upper fringe.

I don't see anything.

You wouldn't.

Well, most people
wouldn't, which is why

I traced over it.

The paper
that was used

in the bomb was
beneath another piece

of paper when
someone wrote that word.

They pressed hard enough
to make indentations.

Now, I already checked it

against Edgar Knowles's
handwriting.

It's not a match.

All due respect,
Holmes.

So what?

Maybe he had help with the bomb.

Maybe that person wrote some

weird note on top
of the newspaper.

As I said previously, I believe
Edgar Knowles worked alone.

And as I said previously,
I still like him

for the last bomb.

The threats against Vanowen
S.C. were never made public,

which means, aside
from the police,

the firm's employees
were the only ones

who were aware of them.

I'd like you to
request a subpoena

of their personnel files

so that I can review them.
For what?

Well, imagine you were a
disgruntled employee, hmm?

You want to strike out at the
company, but you don't want

to get caught, so why not take
advantage of the ELM threats

to plant a device
of your own, hmm?

You get the blast,
they get the blame.

No.

No?

No subpoena.

If you really want
to go poking around

at Vanowen S.C.,
you're gonna have

to take it up with them.

(door opens)

Sorry I'm late.
(door closes)

I'm sure he's gonna
be here any second.

I really like those...

tattoos.

You know, I'm just gonna text
him again and see where he is.

(phone beeps)

I'm really sorry, Alfredo,
but it doesn't look

like Sherlock is coming
and joining us today.

Be patient.

First rule
of good sponsorship.

Newcomers like him
don't always understand

the scope of the work involved.

They get frustrated.

We need to be patient
and methodical with him.

I was under the impression

that you'd never been
a sponsor before.

I haven't.

But I have a great one.

Taught me
everything he knows.

Truth is, I've been wanting
to be a sponsor for a while now.

People never ask.

Think it's because I'm quiet.

I can help your friend,
Miss Watson.

He just needs
to give me the chance.

Doing okay?

I am.

And thank you again for allowing
me to peruse these files.

Oh, it was
an easy decision to make.

If you think there's
anyone here who has something

against this company,
I would like to know.

You're a fellow addict,
aren't you?

Crosswords.

You couldn't have
figured out those clues

at my computer
the other day if you weren't.

I dabble.

Well, I wish I could say
I just dabbled.

I used to have
my habit under control

back when the papers
only issued one a day.

Ever since they put
the last 50 years

of their archives online,
I'm a lost cause.

It's a miracle I get
any work done at all.

You want sex?

Excuse me?

I'm not averse,
Ms. Vanowen.

I'm just busy.

Perhaps we could set
an appointment.

You're flirting.

This crossword talk.

You find me attractive.

The feeling is
mutual, mostly.

The musculature
of your legs

and your shoulders suggests
a certain elasticity I find

quite tantalizing.

I must warn you, however,
a relationship between us

could never go
beyond the physical.

No offense to you, of course.

It's just... not my way.

Hey.

Am I interrupting?

Nope.

Not even a little.

Sorry I missed our
engagement, Watson.

As you can see,
I'm investigating

the possibility that a Vanowen
employee set the bomb.

It's okay-- I told Alfredo
I'd be in touch, and that

we could reschedule.

Is that the whole piece?
Uh...

Pradeep Singh.

Hired as a copywriter
in December 2003.

He was promoted to junior
associate in January 2007,

senior associate
in June 2007,

and finally associate
creative director in March 2008.

I see here that he
was written up

by the human resources
department on October 10, 2008

for engaging in a shouting match
with you, Mr. Wheeler.

I see the
human resources' report,

then nothing--
no more papers...

Yes, that's because
his contract

th this company
was terminated.

Because he fought with you?

Because he disappeared.

He came to work, left,
never came back.

It was in all the
papers at the time.

The police got involved,
never found him.

May I ask what sparked
the disagreement between

the two of you?

Uh... Pradeep wasn't happy.

He was a model employee
at the beginning,

but something changed him.

He became-- I don't
know-- arrogant.

He started talking about
how he wanted more power

here at the company,
more control,

and we gave it to him at first.

I mean, Pradeep was

a capable guy.

Then it all changed
when he came in asking

for his fourth raise
in 18 months.

Well...
You told him enough was enough?

No, that's when he snapped.

He told me
I'd be sorry.

And he worked here
for about another week,

and after that, he was gone.

Never saw
him again.

WOMAN:
Pradeep is dead.

He died in 2008.

HOLMES:
It was our understanding,

Mrs. Singh, that he
was never found,

alive or dead.

My husband loved me very much,
just as I loved him.

He never would run away.

I held out hope for him
for quite some time,

but eventually I had to accept

that the only
possible explanation

for his disappearance
was death.

You think he was
a victim of foul play.

If he had collapsed somewhere,
had a heart attack or a stroke,

someone would have found him.

Pradeep was murdered.

Or he snapped-- planted
a bomb at his workplace,

and then dropped off the grid
before it detonated.

Do you have any idea
who might have wanted

to hurt your husband?

No.

There was the one man
at his office he argued with

a few days
before he vanished,

but the police
were able to clear him.

Other than that,
he had no enemies.

He was a...
I'm just curious, Mrs. Singh.

Have you had any work done
in this room since 2008?

Work?
Remodeling,

refurbishment, reconstruction.

No, I haven't touched it
since Pradeep disappeared.

Not even to address the mold
on the wall behind that cabinet?

How did you...

The nose knows.

Might we take a look
in your backyard?

Why?

Formality.

Actually, I think I'll just use
your facilities first.

I think I had a dodgy egg.

I'll join you presently.

(door closes)

♪

It did.

It was nice to be
out in the country.

Would you excuse
us a moment?

Sure.
Excuse me.

Mrs. Singh was right--
her husband is dead.

He has been for
quite some time.

What are you talking about?
The photograph at the end

of the mantelpiece,
it shows Pradeep and Mrs. Singh

sitting on the sofa.
It was taken

in the same room
that we were sitting in.

I noticed several discrepancies
between the wall

in the photograph and the one
that we were facing.

The spacing between
the paintings was all wrong.

In the photograph,

they were approximately
18 centimeters apart.

In the room, 12 centimeters.

There also hang lower now
by about ten centimeters.

Someone took
them all down,

put them
back up again,

didn't get the
measurements right.

So, Himali moved them?

She says she hasn't had any work
done in that room,

and when I took the frames
off the wall,

I saw that she was right--
there's no old nail holes

that correspond to the frames'
original arrangement.

There is, however,
a slight bulge.

Bulge?

The center
of the wall is almost

imperceptibly convex.

Why? Because the gasses released

from Pradeep Singh's
decomposing body

expanded the plastic sheeting
that he's wrapped in,

pushing outwards.

Wait a second.

Are you telling me that Pradeep
is in that wall?

That would explain
the mold, too.

No.
His killer removed insulation

to make space for his body.

This created
a temperature differential

between that section and the
others, condensation formed...

Then mold.
Mmm.

Four years ago,
Pradeep's murderer tore down

that section of wall,
stashed him inside,

and then replaced
and repainted the drywall.

Are you sure?

I'm fairly sure.

GREGSON: Himali Singh didn't kill
her husband.

ICE confirms she was in Mumbai

visiting family during
most of October '08.

She didn't even come home

until she learned
Pradeep was missing.

Whoever murdered Pradeep
at home,

they knew that
his wife was out of town.

Her trip would've provided
the privacy and time

to kill him
and stash him away.

Maybe Singh had a
coconspirator,

someone he built
the bomb with.

Things went south...
Mmm.

That's a reasonable
theory, Captain.

Problem is,
I no longer think

that Pradeep had anything
to do with it.

What's that--
company newsletter?

Now, that is
Pradeep's desk.

That is the air vent
in which the bomb

was concealed,
right next to him.

Now, if that had gone off
when it was supposed to in 2008,

it would have turned
him into so much

newly promoted
hamburger.

Vanowen S.C.'s personnel files
showed that he did not miss

a single day's work until the
moment that he left for good.

That means he spent
almost a week

in the early part
of October 2008

sitting within
spitting distance

of a live
explosive device.

You think it was
meant for him.

Well, it is abundantly clear
someone wanted Pradeep dead.

The question is,

who would be willing to go
to such lengths and why?

M.E. confirms
Pradeep Singh

was killed
by a gunshot wound

to the chest.

Death was followed
by, and I quote,

"pervasive
mummification."

That's everything we
found in his pockets.

It's kind of weird-- there's
a key on the key chain

with a button to
unlock a car door,

but it's definitely
not a car key.

No, that is
a safety-deposit box key.

You can tell by the teeth.

GREGSON:
S.L.B.

Sequoia Liberty Bank?

Box number 699.

Huh.

Cheech and Chong's
Next Movie?

Well, it's not a good movie,

but it didn't make me want
to commit a homicide.

Hmm, the movie is gone.

You see this slot here?

That's there to stop you

from recording
over the tape.

You put Scotch tape there,
it allows you to do so.

Now all we got to do is
find a VCR... in 2012.

Have you not been to my home
yet, Detective Bell?

I maintain several VCRs.

I like to watch
police interrogations

from the '70s and '80s.

Techniques were rawer
back then, and, uh, you do,

on occasion, learn
something useful. (phone ringing)

Oh.

This is one of my CIs;
I've been waiting

to hear from him
on another case.

You mind if I take this
in private?

My parlor is at your disposal.

What up, Carlo?

Mm-hmm.

So, listen, I texted Alfredo,
and we're all set for tomorrow.

Coffee at 9:00.

Alfredo, yeah, uh, I don't think
that's going to work out.

Spark's no longer there.

I think I'm going to have
to seek sponsorship elsewhere.

What are you talking about?
You hand-picked him.

Hmm, we can do better.

Is this about us?

Is what about us?
Your reluctance to find a sponsor.

I'm starting to think
you're being difficult

because you don't want me
to leave.

You never told me
you were funny.

You picked Alfredo
because you thought

I wasn't gonna like him,

but now that I do, you're trying
to push him away, too.

(laughs) Okay, what you're
feeling right now--

I've seen
it before.

Clients start
to worry about what

their lives
are going to be like

after their
companion leaves.

They kind of get a
separation anxiety.

It's pretty standard, actually.

I guess, since you've never
been anything

but opposed to me
being here, it...

it never occurred to me
that you might feel it, too.

I don't know what you're on,

but old me would definitely
have wanted some.

Listen, I am...
You're back. Excellent.

(knocking at door)

BELL:
Hey, is that Pradeep?

WATSON:
He looks about...

25 years old there.

WOMAN:
Hey, sweetie.

I'm so glad we finally
got to have this date.

Me, too.
You ready to party?

Yes.
She's a prostitute.

That's interesting.

High-end, by
the looks of it.

You want to help me with this?
Sure.

Hello, Ms. Vanowen.

Well, we can keep watching
if you'd both like,

but I'd say we've
found our bomber.

All this just so you can
ask me a few questions?

Just a consent form, ma'am.
Standard procedure.

So, now you want to tell me
what this is all about?

(on tape): Hey, sweetie. I'm so glad we
finally got to have this date.

Me, too.
Ready to party?

Yes.
Good.

I'm sorry. Was that
supposed to be me?

I've learned
since we spoke

that you come from
modest origins.

Father a contractor,
mother a homemaker.

So, when you got
into business school,

you needed
a source of income.

Something to pay
your tuition

and provide you with
seed money for your company.

You turned,
in your hour of need,

to the world's
oldest profession.

Took to it with
some gusto, I'd say.

Okay, let's turn this off.

You built a successful
new life for yourself

on the ashes of your old one,
and no one was any the wiser.

Until Pradeep Singh
got a job at Vanowen.

It probably took him
a while to realize

that his new boss
was one of the women

that he had secretly
recorded years ago,

but when he did,
he turned the screw.

So to speak.

Mmm. Three promotions in a year?

That smells like a payoff to me.

No. I promoted Pradeep
because he deserved it.

Small confession:

I find the anti-
prostitution laws

in this country
rather Victorian.

Sex is a commodity.

Why shouldn't there
be a market for it?

But, of course,
not everyone thinks like I do.

Which is why

you had to pay Pradeep
until his demands

escalated past the point
that you could meet them.

Then you cast about
for a way to kill him.

Now, you already had threatening
letters from the ELM.

So you built a pipe bomb,
planning to blame them.

But when it didn't detonate,

you simply shot Pradeep
and walled him off.

I imagine it was your father

who taught you
how to hang drywall.

That's very creative,
I'll give you that much.

Can he just sling mud at me
like this?

You can seek counsel
at any time, ma'am.

Hardly surprising
that you were the one

to lead the search for new
offices for Vanowen S.C.

You were, after all,
the only person who knew

that there was an
unexploded bomb in the wall.

You know what?

I think I will
actually call my lawyer.

Well, if you do,
Ms. Vanowen,

you might want
to tell him

you're about
to be arrested.

You have an old videotape
and some stupid theories.

This is not evidence.

Yes, well,
I found something

on one of the
scraps of paper

that was used to
pack the bomb.

An imprint of the
word "Novocain".

Useful handwriting sample,

but the message itself,
rather opaque.

Until one considers your love
of crosswords. Novocain.

The answer to 144 across

from the New York Times
crossword,

October 13, 2008.

The clue was "pain's enemy"
in case you forgot.

HOLMES: Now, Detective Bell and the
Questioned Documents Unit

have just matched it to a
handwriting sample you gave us

when you signed
your consent form.

Mmm. Detective Bell,
the honor is all yours.

Ms. Vanowen, would you
face that way, please?

You are under arrest
for the bombing

that took the lives
of David Preston and Roy Smalls.

(doorbell rings)

This is a surprise.

I was on my way over
to show you something,

then I got your message.

Yeah, well... nothing personal.

I don't take it
personal. It's okay.

But since I'm here...

Ever since I got
straightened out,

I've been picking up
work with car companies.

I test their
security systems.

I guess they figure anything
that can keep me out

is good enough for
their customers.

My last job just came in.

Miss Watson tells me that
you're into lock-picking.

I figure maybe you
want to give it a shot.

Well, the truth is, Alfredo,

I'm already quite adept
at defeating security systems.

This stuff's not even
on the market yet.

So, really...

how would you know
if you could beat it?

You know
you want to try.

Obviously your idea.

Zeroing in on
common ground.

Hoping it's enough
to make me reconsider him.

It won't be.

What's the harm in getting
to know the guy?

One way or the other,

I'm gonna be out
of your life in a few weeks.

Maybe you're
dreading that day;

maybe you're counting
the seconds.

Either way,
I'm going to make sure

you're ready
when the time comes.

I promise.

If I help him
with his assignment,

it does not mean I am assenting
to his sponsorship.

Of course it doesn't.

I am quite self-sufficient.

Of course you are.

Factory-installed
immobilizer

or after-market
tracking system?

Not telling.

That's quite all right.

I'll just figure it out
for myself.

I'm entirely
self-sufficient, you know.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==