Castle (2009–2016): Season 3, Episode 12 - Poof, You're Dead - full transcript

Don't go in there.

No!

I gotta go.

Me, too.

Mm.

I'll see you at the scene, sexy.

Okay.

Javier Esposito.
Mm-hmm.

When we get to this crime scene,
do not wink at me,

do not smile at me,

and don't even look at me with
those puppy dog eyes. Got it?

Got it.

Ooh.

Come on, Gina.

I'm not having this
conversation with you again.

Well, I'm... I gotta go.
I'm at work.

It is so work.

What's up, Castle? How's it going?

You want my advice? Never sleep
with someone you work with.

What? What do you mean?

Trust me. It doesn't end well.

Who knows?

Everyone knows.

Everyone knows what?

Nothing.

On my way.

You okay, Castle? You seem upset.

No, no, I'm fine. Why?

Okay.

The murder is here at
Drake's Magic Shop?

Yep.

I've been coming here
since I was 13 years old.

This place is a
paradise for boys...

Whoopee cushions,
magic tricks, fake vomit.

It's not just for boys, Castle.

My grandfather was
an amateur magician,

and I used to come here
almost every Sunday afternoon

when I was that age, too.

I never pegged you
for a magic fan.

You know any good tricks?

I do this one thing

with ice cubes.

According to his
water-soaked wallet,

the victim's Zalman Drake,
the shop owner.

His assistant, Eliza Winter,
found him in the tank

when she opened up the
store this morning.

Any signs of forced entry?

No. You know, it is beyond me

why people think
this is entertaining.

I see a guy hanging upside
down in a water tank,

I think, you are a fool.

Hmm. See the milk cans and
the water torture tank,

they were real game
changers in the magic world.

They were the first presentation

of real life-and-death
consequences.

As the magician held his breath,
so did the audience.

Well, this magician would've
had to hold his breath

eight to ten hours if
he wanted to take a bow.

So you're saying between 12:00 and 2:00 A.M.?
Looks that way.

Petechial hemorrhaging in
his eyes indicate drowning.

Failed escape attempt?
Well, there's no redness around his ankles

where he was hanging.

Doesn't look like he
struggled to get out.

I have a feeling he was dead
before he hit the water,

but I won't know for sure until
I get him back to the lab.

Maybe there's another
reason he didn't struggle.

Suicide note.

It says he was in
financial trouble

and couldn't bear the thought
of losing his family's shop,

so he was gonna kill himself.
Mr. Drake did not kill himself.

How do you know?
I just know.

- Is it true, though? Was he gonna lose
his shop? - No.

I mean, yes, but two
weeks ago, he told me

that everything was fine,

that he had worked it all out.
Any idea how?

Was there a windfall
or an investor?

He didn't say.

Would he have been able

to place himself in that tank?
Absolutely.

But he wouldn't have.
Not Zalman.

He loved and respected
magic too much.

Esposito, there's
no signature here.

I'll have C.S.U. run it for prints.
Have them run the tank

and the entries and exits as well.
Okay.

When was the last
time you saw him?

Yesterday morning.
He left right after lunch,

and he was gone the
rest of the day.

Did he say where he was going?
Was it normal for him

to leave the shop in
the middle of the day?

Yeah. He would do that sometimes.

Did you notice any
changes in his behavior

or anything unusual
going on in his life?

This past month,
he was gone m-more often.

All he'd say was that he
was working on something.

But he looked a little tired,
like he hadn't been sleeping.

Can you think of any
reason for the change?

Yes. Last month,
right before all this started,

a guy came into the shop
and attacked Mr. Drake.

He pushed him right
through a display case.

He said he better watch his back,

and he was gonna sue him
for all he was worth.

Thank you. I will hold.

So court records show that

a lawsuit was filed against
Zalman Drake a month ago.

They're pulling it up now.
Hey.

Hey. We canvassed the area
around the magic shop.

One of the neighbors said
she saw an old white van

pull up to the shop
around midnight

and then heard the gate roll up.
Okay, you guys look into that,

and let's find out where
Zalman was disappearing to.

I'd like to know what he was doing

all the way up until the
moment that he died.

What about his next of kin?

Only surviving relative's
a brother in Poughkeepsie.

We haven't reached him yet.
All right, thank you, guys.

Poughkeepsie?
Hey.

X-ray specs.
Got 'em at the magic shop.

I can see you naked.

Really?
Mm.

How do you like my navel ring?

Looks like somebody has a secret.

A secret? Uh, what secret?

I can understand a guy
not wanting to share.

I mean, some things are personal.

How did you find out?

Dude, everybody knows.

It's all over "page six."

"Looks like an unhappy ending

for the publisher and
the mystery writer."

Apparently,

he and ex-wife/girlfriend/
publisher Gina

had some words...
loud words... at Le Cirque,

and she stormed off.

That's what he was talking
about this morning.

What I don't understand
is why he would try

to hide it from us.
I mean, we're like family.

Maybe he's afraid of
what we might think.

So it turns out a lawsuit was
filed against Zalman Drake

by a Jerome Aspenall.

And get this...

The judge threw it out yesterday.

Maybe Jerome decided to take
justice into his own hands.

What was he suing him for?

Zalman Drake?
I was suing him for slander,

defamation of character,
ruining my life.

And how did Zalman do that, Jerome?
He read my friggin' mind,

in front of, like, 300 people.
During a magic performance?

Yeah. It was like
this mind reading,

card tricks, levitation,
at this Chichi Charity Ball.

My in-laws won a table,

and I figured, free food,
some entertainment,

maybe later, I get lucky.
Turns out not so lucky.

Could you elaborate on that?
Yeah,

this magician, Zalman Drake,
gets onstage,

makes this rich dude
disappear and reappear,

and I'm like, "Oh, that's cool."

Then he asks for volunteers.
My wife raises my hand

and says "Go up there, it'll be fun,"
so I do. Drake says,

"Stand across from me and
think good thoughts," so I do.

He looks at me, concentrates,

puts his fingers on my forehead,
and he goes, "You're thinking

of Rita and your trip to Atlantic
City last weekend." Were you?

Yeah, but I was trying not to,

'cause here's the kicker...
Your wife's name isn't Rita.

Right.
Mm.

So now I'm living in a
motel in Long Island City,

my father-in-law fired me,
and Rita won't even talk to me

'cause my wife found her
number and called her.

Where were you last night
between 12:00 and 2:00?

Why is she asking me that?

Well, she wants to know if you have an alibi.
For what?

Zalman Drake was
murdered last night.

Justice is served.

When he read your mind,
did it take him very long?

No, he... No. No.
Didn't think so.

Jerome, we have a witness who
says you went to his shop,

attacked, and
threatened Zalman Drake.

When they dropped your
lawsuit yesterday,

did you decide to take the
law into your own hands?

Did you go to the magic
shop and murder Zalman?

No, I didn't go
anywhere last night

except for O'Lannahan's
at 57th and Seventh,

because thanks to Zalman Drake,
I no longer have a wife

or a mistress to go home to.

Wonder how Zalman did it.

He must have lifted something
from Jerome's pocket

with a receipt from
his weekend of sin.

Like this.

You had your hand in my pocket,
and I didn't even feel it?

Do it again.

What?

Hey, Ryan.

Any luck narrowing down
Zalman's whereabouts yesterday?

Uh, not yet,

but I did check into Jerome's
whereabouts last night.

The barkeep at O'Lannahan's
said he was there till closing.

He called him a cab. So the only

thing he killed last night
were his brain cells.

And a forensic sweep of the
water tank came up negative

for any prints on the operating
apparatus other than Zalman's.

So either he committed suicide...
Or the killer wore gloves.

Not the whole time.
According to the lab,

there were fingerprints all
over that suicide note,

and they weren't
Zalman's or Jerome's.

Did you get a match? Yeah,
to a Charles "Chuck" Russell.

A low-life street magician

with three arrests
and two convictions...

one for arson and another on

an explosives charge.
Did he know our victim?

Yeah, apparently Zalman
is some big muckety-muck

with the American Magicians Guild.

They have a code of professional conduct,
and Chuck broke it.

He was reckless with
pyrotechnics in his act,

injured his assistant,
so Zalman had him kicked out.

He hasn't been able to book a gig since.
Where can we find him?

So I have Brenda's watch here.

She wants me to make
her husband disappear.

That's a felony. I can't do that.

But I can make the
watch disappear.

Give it up. That was
incredible, really.

Thank you, Brenda.

Aw. $1.

I'll dine on raman and tap
water tonight and think of you.

What about you?
You got a little something

for the United Magicians College fund?

As a matter of fact, I do.

We need to talk to you
about Zalman Drake.

Abracadabra.

Alakazam, jackass.

♪ Castle 3x12 ♪
Poof! You're Dead
Original Air Date on January 10, 2011

Why am I here?

You recognize this?
That's a baggie and that's a letter.

Next.

Careful, Chucky.
Next could be a murder charge.

Your fingerprints are on it.
So?

So I find it strange that
someone else's fingerprints

are on another guy's suicide note.

What are you talking about?
Your old friend Zalman Drake.

Zalman?

Yeah, that's him.

He killed himself?

Man.
We found him drowned

in the water torture
trick in his shop.

You must have thought
you were pretty clever,

staging it to look
like a botched escape.

I didn't stage anything.
I had nothing to do with it.

Well, then maybe you can
explain your prints on that.

All right.

No, wait. Okay, listen,
I-I-I gave him this note.

You gave him a suicide note?

Not that note.

The other note on the paper.
The one you can't see.

Hold it under a black light.

It's an invoice for
services rendered.

What kind of services?

He wanted me to get him something,

something illegal.

C4 explosives?

Ironic, right?

He wants explosives from me

when that's what he
got me booted for.

But he promised to get me
reinstated in the Guild,

and I wanted to work.
Whoever wrote this note

probably thought they took
a blank piece of paper.

Whoever being not me.

You provided him with enough C4
to blow up half a city block.

What was it for?
Maybe it was for a magic trick.

Come on.

Nah, listen, Zalman
didn't just run the shop

and do corporate gigs.

He was also this
genius trick designer.

Rumor has it, he was creating

cutting-edge illusions for
the hottest guy out there.

And who is the hottest
guy out there?

Tobias Strange?
He's the Johnny Depp of magic.

I saw him in Vegas.
He made a Ferrari disappear.

Why would anybody want to do that?
Yeah,

he's in town. I saw him
perform a couple of weeks ago.

Awesome, awesome show.

Yeah, we loved it.

We?

Yeah.

Me and my buddy.

Ray.
You have a buddy named Ray

who you went with to a magic show?

Yeah. What about it?
Okay, guys,

hold Chuck on an explosives
trafficking charge,

and let's see if this "Johnny
Depp of magic" knows what his

trick designer was really into
and why it required so much C4.

Voilã .

Pull it tight.

All the way.

Make sure it's locked.

Okay, guys, 30 seconds,

starting now.

Excuse me.

Oh, my God!

Oh! Get it open!

Where is he?
Hey, this is a private rehearsal.

Who the hell let them in here?!

All-access pass.

Zalman has been the heart

of the New York magic community

since he inherited the
shop from his dad.

It's a huge loss. I understand
that he worked for you.

He used to.
We parted ways last month.

Why?
I heard from one of my vendors

that he might be working
for someone else,

so I confronted him.
Turns out, he was poached.

Do you know by whom?
He didn't say.

Look, Zalman had been

my exclusive designer and
engineer for 15 years.

He created some of my
most famous tricks.

If he had any stage presence,

he would've been a
world-class magician himself.

Well, it must have
been very upsetting

to have him leave
after all those years.

Didn't that put some of
your trade secrets at risk?

A thinly veiled accusation,
Mr. Castle.

Of course I was upset.

But I never doubted
his discretion.

Mr. Strange,
did any of your illusions

require the use of an explosive?
The term "smoke and mirrors"

isn't metaphoric in our
business, detective.

Much of misdirection depends
on flashes of light.

What about C4?

The key to making
something look dangerous

is to have complete
control over the outcome.

C4 is too volatile,
unpredictable. It kills.

Any idea what Zalman
would be using it for?

Nothing magical, I assure you.

Have you checked his workshop?

Uh, we haven't come
across a workshop.

It's probably where he'd been
disappearing to every day.

Do you know where it is?
Ah,

you know how magicians
are about secrets.

But whatever he was working on,

you would probably find there.

It's an age-old story...

magician at the top of his game,
angry that his trick designer

has jumped ship for
the competition,

kills him instead of

letting his trade secrets
fall into enemy hands.

It's magic, Castle,
not the Cold War.

Well, if it's not the Cold War,

why does Zalman need

military-grade explosives?
I don't know. Hell.

We don't even know if
it really was murder.

For all we know, it could've
actually been a suicide.

It's Lanie. Let me guess.
It wasn't a suicide.

Beckett.

It took you two long enough.
Where were you, Europe?

Traffic. Girl,
you coulda used the gum ball.

Dressed to the nines,
in a big hurry.

So... where are you going
and who's the lucky victim?

I'll tell you what, Castle,

you tell me what's going
on between you and Gina,

and I'll tell you where
I'm going tonight.

What are you talking about?

He and his girlfriend had
a big fight at Le Cirque.

It was in the paper.
Can we talk about the victim, please?

Okay.

No water in the lungs.

He wasn't drowned?

Nope, but he was asphyxiated,

which sometimes
presents the same way.

Bruising. Like someone held their
hand over his nose and mouth.

He was murdered before
he was put into the tank.

And then his killer
took what he thought

was a blank piece of paper and
typed out the suicide note.

But why kill him that way?

I mean, why make it look like a suicide?
Cover up the murder.

The murder, or something bigger

involving explosives?

We gotta find that workshop.

You are the picture of a
civilized evening at home.

And you are a caveman.

Darling, we are your family.

Why didn't you tell us about this?

Have you spoken to her,
you know, since your P.D.A.?

- My...
- public display of anger.

It says you were fighting, dad.
What about?

- Well, if you must know...
- Yes.

We were fighting about how
much we've been fighting.

If you don't mind, I'd really like

to change the subject.

What am I, 6?

At least pull out a $20.
Wow.

Hey, I was thinking...
Come on, Castle. Keep up.

Where are we going?
Zalman's workshop.

You found it? How?

In his soggy wallet
was a soggy metrocard.

Ryan ran it through the
automated fare database.

He was traveling from a subway
stop near his magic shop

to the last stop out in the Bronx.

So we're canvassing
the neighborhood.

Do we need vests?
No, no vests.

Remember that power outage
a couple of weeks ago,

shut down the subway?
Yes.

Well, I looked into
Zalman's financials.

He hired a town car that
day with his credit card,

and we now have his address.

You sure this is the place?

This is where they
dropped him off.

Well, it looks abandoned,
bricked up.

Look, look, look.

Footprints.

Yes, to nowhere.

That's what he wanted us to think.

Open Sesame.

Zalman's fortress of solitude.

Wow, Castle.

My grandfather would've
loved this place.

Look, he has a guillotine...

And an iron maiden.

He even had a Zig Zag box.

You know, you would've
liked my grandfather.

In fact, you remind
me of him a little.

I'm flattered.
Hmm.

Wheelchair tracks?

Yeah, and they look fairly fresh.

Maybe he had a visitor.

Mm-hmm.

They look recent.

These papers are dated
the day he was killed.

I'm gonna have to get C.S.U.
to sweep this whole place.

Is this an accident or art?

Castle, take a look at this.

The pages are ripped,

like he didn't want anyone to
know what he was working on.

Zalman?

Who the hell are you?

Best trick ever.

NYPD. Keep your hands
where I can see them.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

What... what's going on?
What are you doing here?

Zalman?

Edmund. Edmund Drake.
His brother from Poughkeepsie?

You're a twin.
Yeah.

Can I put my hands down?
Uh, yeah.

Why were you hiding
in the iron maiden?

It's the entrance
from the other room.

I'm detective Beckett.
We're here about your brother.

So am I.
Where is he?

You don't know?

Mr. Drake, I'm sorry to tell you,

but your brother is dead.

Are you kidding me?

He has an identical
twin who wears glasses.

That's the worst disguise since
Clark Kent, and you believe him?

I have no reason not to.
Look at him. He's devastated.

It's an act. Don't you
ever go to movies?

It's...

It's probably Edmund who's dead,

and that dweeb in the
next room is Zalman.

I bet he killed his brother
to take over his life.

As an accountant in Poughkeepsie?

Well, I...

I knew something was wrong

when he called me a
couple of days ago.

What did he call about?

Money.

He said someone was paying
him a half a million dollars,

and he needed my help to hide it.
Hide it how?

To make sure that the
government never found out

where it came from.

The way he was talking,
it sounded like

he'd gotten involved
in something illegal.

And what were you doing
at his warehouse?

Well, I just had this
feeling yesterday

that something was terribly wrong,

and when I tried to reach him,
I couldn't.

I drove down to the city.
I think it was the twin thing.

You know, all our lives,
we've had this connection.

Yeah, of course.
The twin thing.

Tell me, Mr. Drake,

given your legacy,

why didn't you ever get into
the family business, too?

No, I didn't have the passion...
Or the skill.

Zalman and I, we, uh,

we did have an act
together as kids.

He would disappear up on stage,

and then... then I would appear
in the back of the audience.

I guess it was only amazing

to people who didn't
know we were twins.

Well, you're being modest.

I'm sure you fooled
a lot of people.

Mr. Drake, the activities that
your brother was involved in,

if you looked through
his things, do you think

that you would be able to
determine what he was doing?

Zalman was a brilliant engineer,

and, uh, I'm afraid my brain
just doesn't work that way.

He was someone special, you know?

Light up a room.

Look, detective, I don't
know what he got mixed up in.

But I just know,
he didn't deserve to die.

I can't believe you're letting
him just walk out of here.

If this was a movie...
It's not a movie,

and what am I supposed
to charge him with,

being a twin?

Being an evil twin
in a magic murder.

A half-a-million-dollar
payment that he's hiding

from the government, bricks of C4?

That doesn't sound
like magic to me.

Beckett.

C.S.U. is just finishing
their initial sweep.

So far we haven't been
able to find anything

to indicate who Zalman
might have been working for

other than Tobias Strange,

but C.S.U. did find some trace
residue of C4 explosives

on the workbench.

And what about the tracks?

You were right.
They are from a wheelchair.

The tracks are pretty distinctive.

We're running down make and model now.
Yeah, well, with any luck,

Professor X will turn out to
be Zalman's mystery client.

Right. Thanks.

What about this?
Zalman gets in over his head,

he lures his brother down here,

suffocates him,
sticks him in a tank

so it looks like he's dead.

Meanwhile, Zalman, as Edmund,
inherits his own magic shop

collects his own insurance,
all the while

takes Edmund's wife and children,

who love him, as his own.

It's "Dead Ringer."
Are you still talking?

Edmund is Zalman.

Couldn't be more wrong.

I ran the prints on our victim.
He is Zalman.

Satisfied, Castle?
More like disappointed.

Well, maybe this
will cheer you up.

Old man hair.

White rabbit fur.

It came from his teeth and throat.

So he was killed by a rabbit

who did not want to be
pulled out of a hat.

Your guess is as good as mine.

In the process of
trying to determine

how Zalman was asphyxiated,
I also discovered

the presence of a low
dose of organophosphates

in his nose and throat.

Organophosphates?

It's found in hydraulic fluids,
jet engine oil,

insecticides, nerve agents.
Nerve agents?

Well, along with the C4,

our magician's sounding

more like a terrorist.
The amount is too small

to indicate that he had been
working with them directly,

- but he definitely was exposed
to them recently. - Oye, chica.

I was in the hood, and I

- thought that we should
talk about the... - Tests...

That you had me run.

Um, they're in the back.
I'll go get 'em.

Yeah. Thanks.
What tests?

Different case.
Hey, I was just about to call you.

You know those wheelchair tracks

that you found at
Zalman's workshop?

Well, they had a sawtooth pattern

unique to one brand of tire
made for electric wheelchairs.

We called the half a
dozen specialty shops

that stock that tire,
and we cross referenced

recent purchases
with the mailing list

of the magic shop.
Did you get a match?

Yeah. Thaddeus Magnus.

He's a professional
government protestor.

He's got multiple arrests
for civil disobediences,

and get this...
he drives a white van.

Government protestor,
civil disobedience.

You mix that in with
C4 and nerve agent,

you're looking at Tim McVeigh.
You have an address?

Thanks.
Mm-hmm.

Nice work.

That... was close.

No. This...

Is close.

How does a guy in a wheelchair

lift someone into a tank of water?

Mr. Magnus, NYPD. Open up.

Maybe the wheelchair is an act.

In every magic story,
there's an unexpected twist

where things aren't
always what they seem.

It's an obligation of the genre.

What?
NYPD.

We need to ask you a few
questions about Zalman Drake.

Zalman Drake

of Drake Magic.

End of an era.

I hear it was a failed escape.

More like a successful murder.
Oh?

He was asphyxiated before he
was lowered into the tank.

You mean he was really murdered?

And guess whose van was
spotted outside his shop

right about when he died.

Would you just not touch that, please?
Who wants the ball?

It took me five years to build it.

What was he working on for you?

What were the explosives for?
Explosives?

What are you talking about?

Look, Zalman was my friend.

He didn't work for me.

I worked for him,
making specialty items

for those tricks he designed.

Nothing explosive.

Just... well, things like that.

Doesn't change the fact,

you were at his
store when he died.

Does it look like I could've
lifted him into a tank?

Well, maybe you
borrowed a set of legs.

Maybe these or someone else's.
Stop it.

If anyone killed him, it was those guys he met.
What guys?

The guys he was working for.

I was there at the
warehouse when they called.

I went there to pick up a check
for some work I did on the job.

They wanted to meet him.

Told him to go to the
store after closing.

Zalman... asked me
to drop him off.

Next thing I hear, he's dead.

I didn't know it was murder.

The job that you did for him,
what was it?

Well, he wanted me to
make him a mechanical arm.

You know, something to
trigger a switch remotely.

Theoretically,
what could it trigger?

Well, anything...
turn on a light, ring a bell.

Set off a bomb?

Oh, look, I swear,
I thought he was joking.

About what?

He said this was his
greatest magic trick ever.

Said he was getting paid a fortune

to get away with murder.

You really think someone
would hire a magician

to help them get away with murder?
I mean, it's brilliant really.

Magicians are masters
at misdirection.

If they can manipulate audiences,

they can manipulate witnesses.

They could even
make people testify

to things that never happened.
It's just so hard to believe

that a person with that
much respect for magic

would use his skills to kill.
He needed to save his shop,

and a half-a-million-dollar
payday was too good to be true.

And it was. Instead of a payday,
he got whacked.

Well, the people who hired
him probably figured

it was safer to kill
him than run the risk

of having an attack of
conscience and rat them out.

Okay, so without evidence,
how are we gonna find 'em?

By finding out exactly who
they hired Zalman to kill.

We know he was working on a trick

involving C4 and a
remote triggering device.

Well, whoever he killed
went out with a bang.

There can't have
been that many deaths

in the tristate area in
the last couple of weeks

where someone was
killed by an explosion.

Where are we with ATF
and the fire department?

We're supposed to get their
reports in the morning.

Okay, meantime, let's see
what we can dig up ourselves.

You know how many
explosions there are

in New York City every week?

Steam pipe explodes.

Gas stove explodes.

Unhappy couple explodes.

Well, didn't you explode in
a rather ritzy restaurant

with, uh...

Aha. Speak of the devil.

You're not gonna answer that?

Answer what?
Ooh. Well done.

Of course, making
your phone disappear

doesn't make your
problem disappear.

No.

Hey, come on, kiddo.

What's going on with
you two, really?

Nothing's going on.

No, nothing at all.
Everything is fine.

Everything is...

Just fine.

It's ordinary.

The problem is, I...

I don't want ordinary.

I want...

Magic.

Yeah. You know what
the problem is,

is we just aren't in love.

Neither one of us
wants to admit...

Organophosphates.

It wasn't a nerve agent.
It was jet oil.

Zalman was at an airport.
What? I...

I gotta go.

Now you see him, now you don't.

Hey. I think I figured out
who Zalman was paid to kill.

Billionaire philanthropist
Christian Dahl?

How did you...

Organophosphates,
jet oil, airport.

It's like we could be twins.

Connection.

Conjecture.

All we know right now is that Dahl

took off from Teterboro
Saturday afternoon

intending to set a transatlantic
speed record in his jet.

Apparently, something went wrong,

and the plane broke up midair.

Witnesses out on an oil tanker
out on Long Island sound

claim to have seen a white
flash and smoke in the sky.

Well, a midair explosion

would account for all the C4
that Zalman bought from Chuck.

And Magnus' remote
triggering device.

Well, whoever wanted
Christian dead

probably killed Zalman
to cover up the crime.

Except all we have
now is speculation.

Yo. I just got off with the F.A.A.

They're sending over
footage of the takeoff.

Okay, there's Dahl
getting on his jet

for the transatlantic
flight attempt.

Looks like he's
doing his preflight.

Look at that.

It matches the outline on the
wall in Zalman's workshop.

He was painting a decal.

Zoom in on that guy.

It's Zalman Drake.

He dressed like a caterer.

Probably so he can
get past security.

He delivered something.
Yeah, explosives and a triggering device.

This was a murder for hire.

Skip ahead.

And freeze it.

He planned for
Christian Dahl's plane

to break up over the Atlantic.

It's the perfect crime...
No evidence...

No body... no killer.

You are crazy. I've never
even tried anything like...

Yeah. Okay. Yeah, me, too. Bye.
Who was that?

Coast guard. I was just
seeing if they, uh,

found the plane's data recorder.
Hmm. Did they?

Did they what?
Hey, guys, where are you on Christian Dahl?

This guy was unbelievable.

He became a billionaire
by always being exactly

in the right place at exactly
the right time to invest

in whatever stock, product or
idea was just about to hit.

Did he have any enemies,
anyone that was threatening him?

No, all the people I
talked to loved him.

He gave away more
money than Oprah,

and he gave a lot of money

to research into the occult.
He climbed Everest,

he flew across Europe
in a hot air balloon,

he even drove a dog
sled in the Iditarod.

Well, with that
much going for him,

he had to have had
a couple of haters.

Just one, and she had both
motive and opportunity.

Naomi Weldon?

Naomi Weldon Dahl...

Christian's wife and a
former fashion model.

Apparently, a month ago,

Christian caught her
having an affair,

and according to their prenup,
if he divorced her,

she wound up with nothing.

And if he dies,
she inherits billions.

Where was this photo taken?
Ah, you noticed.

The Dahl Foundation
benefit six weeks ago.

And the entertainment for the
evening was... Zalman Drake.

You know, Jerome did say

Zalman made someone
disappear that night.

Naomi sees his performance

and wonders if Zalman can make
her husband disappear forever.

And with billions on the line...

Half a million's
just chump change.

When they told me that
Christian's plane disappeared,

that's exactly what I thought.

That your husband's
death was no accident?

Christian was a perfectionist,
and he was superstitious.

He did three background
checks before he married me.

You and your husband had

an airtight prenuptial agreement.

Standard when two
high-profile people marry.

And if you left the
marriage or had an affair,

you'd be leaving the marriage

without spousal or child support.

Those were the terms.

I have my own career.
I can take care of myself.

But you were having an affair.

Whether or not I had an
affair is none of your affair.

If you're implying that
I murdered my husband

to be with someone else,
you're mistaken.

I wouldn't kill anyone.
Not even to inherit a fortune?

Well, then the joke
would be on me.

There is no fortune.

All of Christian's
accounts have been frozen.

You mean you're in probate.

No, I mean frozen.
Why?

You'll have to ask the
district attorney's office.

God knows, they wouldn't tell me.

That was the D.A.

Apparently,
at the time of his death,

our billionaire investment guru

was being investigated
by the S.E.C.

They thought that he
was making his money

the old-fashioned way,
by stealing it.

All of his amazing stock
returns were falsified.

The whole thing was
a Ponzi scheme.

As it turns out,
they were a couple of weeks away

from indicting Christian
Dahl for massive fraud.

He was gonna lose everything

and face 50 years
in federal prison.

If I were him,
I'd want to disappear,

too. And what better
way to disappear...

Than hire a magician?
Bingo.

Christian Dahl is on the plane
doing his preflight check.

Zalman leaves the plane...

Dahl taxis to the
runway and takes off.

Well, he had to have
gotten off at some point,

otherwise, it would've
been a suicide mission,

and you don't need a
magician for that.

Unless...

That isn't Christian Dahl.

It looks just like him.
Dummy.

Not you.
The... on... in the cockpit.

They switched out real
Dahl for dummy Dahl.

Magnus didn't build a triggering
device for an explosion.

The arm he built was for
doing the preflight check.

The whole thing's an automaton.
That's the magic trick.

He made it look to the
world like Christian Dahl

was still on the plane,
the same way Tobias Strange made it look

like he was still
in the cabinet when

the swords went in.
And then he used the catering box

to get the dummy on board
and Christian Dahl off.

Then who's piloting that plane?

Christian Dahl,
only not from the cockpit.

He had it rigged to fly
via remote control. See?

Zalman puts the box in the van.

There's probably a
console inside there

linked to the plane's avionics.
Dahl takes off remotely...

Flies out over the Atlantic...

And then he detonates
the explosion,

and everyone thinks that he's dead

because everyone's
seen him on board.

Only Dahl is very much alive,

and there's only one person
in the world that knows it.

Zalman, and as long as he's alive,
he's a threat to Dahl.

So Dahl has to tie up
that one loose end.

But he can't risk anyone
knowing that he's still alive.

So Dahl has to kill
Zalman himself.

What?

Nothing. So what do we do now?

Well, it's four days
since the accident.

Christian Dahl is probably in
some non-extradition country

with a chunk of his
fortune by now.

Yeah, probably.

Unless...

Unless what?

Well, Dahl does
everything publicly.

The guy loves being famous.
Everyone thinks he's dead.

A guy like that...
No, it's crazy.

Castle, crazy is exactly
what we need right now.

Castle, this is crazy.
Crazy but in character.

Look at the kind of guy
Christian Dahl was...

How he loved the limelight,

his fascination with
life after death.

You think a guy like that is
gonna miss the opportunity

to attend his own funeral?

Would you?
Not a chance.

Okay, so if he's here,
how do we find him?

Well, he'll be in disguise,
of course.

Look for an anomaly,

someone who's trying to fit in
yet sticking to the outskirts,

someone who isn't
engaging in conversation

but at the same time,

eavesdropping on other
people's conversations.

Someone who's... got long hair,
a beard, and $1,000 shoes?

Yeah, that'll work, too.

Mr. Dahl.

You shoulda stayed dead, bro.

So I faked my own death.

So what? That's not a crime.

What are you gonna charge me with,
littering the Atlantic?

I'll stand in line behind B.P.

The charge is premeditated murder.

We figured out your little trick.

Zalman performed for
your charity event.

He made you disappear,
giving you the inspiration

to pull the ultimate escape.
You knew he needed money,

so you made him an offer
he couldn't refuse.

But you never planned on paying him,
did you, Mr. Dahl?

No, you planned on
using his desperation

over the loss of
his family's legacy

to make people think that
he committed suicide.

Staging a shooting,
it's too cumbersome.

Too many questions.
Where'd the gun come from?

So you used what you had
on hand to get rid of

the only person on earth who
knew you were still alive.

Once he was gone,
you'd be free and clear.

Is...

Is that what you do when
you can't solve a crime,

concoct fantasies?

The rabbit hair that
lined your gloves

was found on our victim.

You called Zalman,
met him at his shop,

put your gloved
hand over his mouth,

and then you smothered him.

If you think I'm afraid
of you or the S.E.C...

I will beat your pants off and
enjoy every minute of it...

Assuming you can find
me once I'm out on bail.

It's not me that you should
be scared of, Mr. Dahl,

or the S.E.C.

You should be afraid
of what you've become.

Well, if you're done
with your lecture

or your petty threats,
I'd like to see my...

My lawyer.

Something wrong, Dahl?

No.

Christian?

H...

How are you doing that?

Doing what?

Aah!

Is he having flashbacks?
I don't know.

Do you see him?

Who?

He was right here.

Oh, God.

You can't... you can't be here.

You're dead!

You're dead. I...

I killed you.

Alakazam, jackass.

How did you know that would work?

I didn't. I just
knew he'd lawyer up.

So I figured, why not take a shot?

Your grandfather would be proud.

Thank you so much, gentlemen.

Always a pleasure to
lend a hand to the NYPD.

I might add this one
to my repertoire

in tribute to your brother.

Thank you, detective, Mr. Castle.

So what's gonna happen
to Drake's Magic Shop?

Hmm. Tobias and I
were discussing that.

Zalman put his life
on the line for it,

so we'd like to find a
way to keep it alive.

Maybe we can pull a solution
out of our collective hats.

Good night.

Bye.

Hey, could you, uh...

Oh, yeah.

So... where's Esposito?

Huh. Take a wild guess.
Lanie?

Can you believe they still
think that none of us know?

Oh, let's let 'em keep
thinking that a while longer.

The bubble bursts soon enough.

Not if you're in it with the right person.
Thanks. Thank you. See you.

Excuse me. I need
to take this. Yeah.

No. No.

What I'm saying is...

It's over.

Heading out?
Yeah. It's late.

Motorcycle boy?

I really wish you would
stop calling him that.

Dr. Motorcycle boy.
He's on shift tonight.

I was gonna see if I could
catch the comfort food truck.

You want to come?

Macaroni and cheese,
warm biscuits, hot chocolate?

How could I say no?

Hey, I wanted to
say thanks for, um,

not mentioning that article
or asking what was going on.

Not a problem.