Castle (2009–2016): Season 3, Episode 4 - Punked - full transcript

There are two kinds of folks

who sit around thinking
about how to kill people:

Psychopaths
and mystery writers.

I'm the kind that pays better.

Who am I?

I'm Rick Castle.

Castle.

Castle.

I really am ruggedly handsome,
aren't I?

Every writer needs inspiration.
And I found mine.

Detective Kate Beckett.

Beckett.
Aah!

Beckett?
Could you get some backup, please?

And thanks to my friendship
with the Mayor,

I get to be on her case.
Oh!

Do I look like a killer to you?
Yes, you kill my patience.

And together,
we catch killers.

I hate this case.
I know. Isn't it great?

(Police radio chatter)

(Hooves pounding)

(Police radio chatter)

(Castle)
I have delicately placed

one Graham cracker,
exactly six marshmallows,

atop a perfectly melted
chocolate bar.

In an omelet, darling,
really?

Not an omelet.

A s'morelet.
Uh-huh.

Care for one?
No, thank you.

What about you, sweetheart?

Are you ready for your
taste buds to be launched

into breakfast Nirvana?
Sure, thanks.

Oh, is it okay if my friend
Ashley comes over tonight?

Yes, of course. Now eat.

(Fork clatters)

(Mouth full) Dad.

(Normal voice)
Are there marshmallows in this?
Yes.

And chocolate?
Yes.

That's the point.
It's a s'morelet.

I... I gotta go. Love you.

Love you.
Bye, honey.

(Mouth full) Mmm.

This is almost as good as my
chocolate mousse chimichanga.

(Normal voice) Aha.
I knew you'd reconsider.

It's kinda like
David Hasselhoff.

At first you're repulsed,
but then strangely,

you're drawn in.
No, still repulsed. Bye.

(Door opens)
Mm.

(Mouth full)
Wonder what's up with Alexis?
(Door closes)

She seems a little out of it.
Isn't it obvious?

What?
Oh, she's in love.

Alexis?
Oh, come on, darling.

In case you haven't noticed,
she's not a little girl anymore.

(Normal voice)
Thank you, mother.

I think if Alexis were in love,
she would've told me.

Ah, ah, ah, ah.

The fact that she hasn't told
you is how we know it's real.

Mother.

Okay, and the fact that she...
Mentioned it to me last night.

Who is he?
W-where did she meet him?

I don't know.
She wouldn't say.

No, diva's honor.
She didn't tell me anything.

She didn't even tell me
his name.

I can't believe she told you
and not me.

I'm supposed to be
her go-to guy.

Oh, darling,
of course you are.

It's just, you know,
it's first love.

It's magical, ethereal.

It defies logic.

(Cell phone rings)

Richard, your phone?
(Ring)

Mm.

(Ring)

Oh, Beckett. Maybe it's
a nice murder, darling.

Brighten your day.
(Ring)

Good boy.

(Clicks open and beeps)
Castle.

(Castle) When Alexis took
her first steps,

I was there to catch her
when she fell.

The first time she rode her bike
without training wheels,

I was the maniac
chasing her down the street

screaming for her
to watch out

for the old lady
with the Walker.

Even her first word--
let me guess. "Daddy"?

No, it was "denouement."
Oh.

I stressed story structure
from an early age.

Uh-huh.

Anyway, I'm afraid that this is
the beginning of the end

of our special thing.

Well, you know,
I wouldn't worry, Castle.

I mean, I've seen the way
that she looks at you.

Your real problem is that girls
who adore their daddies

usually end up marrying guys
just like them.

They do?
Dr. Parish.

Good morning.
Got an I.D.?

Not yet. How come you guys
never bring me coffee?

I'm here before you
doing all the work.

You can have
the rest of mine.

Actually,
I don't drink coffee.

But would it kill you
to bring me a bear claw?

Speaking of killing.

Single G.S.W. to the chest,

large caliber,
probably a .45.

Lividity suggests time of death
around midnight.

Hey.

I have those boxers.
Thomas Nash.

Very pricey British brand.

Amazingly soft. They're silk.

(Police radio chatter,
camera shutter clicks)

I'm just saying, he was
probably very comfortable

when he was shot and killed.

So what was this guy
doing out here

practically naked
at midnight?

Don't bother with any of your
perverted theories, Castle.

I found fibers
in the bullet hole.

Which means he was wearing
clothes when he was shot.

That doesn't make any sense.
The killer shot him

and then hung around to take
his bloody clothes off him?

Well, maybe the killer was
worried that there was

forensic evidence on the clothes
that would connect them.

Yo. Uni found this wallet out
in a garbage can near fifth.

Photo on the license matches
Captain underpants here.

Sorry. My nephew
loves those books.

Daniel Goldstein, 25,
lives in Soho.

Yeah, he's also got
a work I.D. from Berman Rose

down on Wall Street.

So he lived downtown
and he worked downtown.

What was he doing way up here?
Let's take this down to the lab.

Right.

(Castle) So I wear boxers.

What do you wear--
thongs, cheekies?

I told you mine.

Bloomers?

Granny panties?

Commando?

His clothes were taken?

Why would anyone
take his clothes?

We don't know, Ms. Goldstein.
Can you tell us

what your brother might have
been doing in the park?

That late? I have no idea.

Well, the place
where Daniel was found

is known for drug activity.
Was he using?

No. He barely even drank.

Did he have any enemies
or conflicts that you know of?

No, no. Look, none of this
makes any sense.

It's just--
it's not like him.

Our parents both died
in a car accident

when he was 12,

and since then,
he's always been so cautious.

What about dating? Was there
anyone special in his life?

Oh, he wished, but no.

No, he barely had a social life
or social skills.

I mean, he was
such a sweetheart,

but a dork, you know?

And he was always
at work anyway.

At Berman Rose?
What did he do for them?

Created financial products.

He was
this incredible math genius.

Got his PhD from M.I.T.

I thought for sure he'd be
a Professor or something,

but these hedge funds,
they hire guys like him,

and they pay them
obscene amounts of money.

25 years old--he bought
my apartment for me.

(Knock on door)

Excuse me.

What's up?

Lab got a fingerprint
off our vic's wallet.

Anyone good?

Uh...

(Clears throat)

(Beckett) Awaiting court dates

on three
aggravated assault cases

in the past month,
Mr. D'André.

You inflicted dozens
of broken bones,

gouged out
one of your victim's eyes,

bit off part of an ear
of another one.

Sounds like committing murder
was inevitable.

I'm just curious.
Why did you take his clothes?

Wasn't me.

Well, then why
were your fingerprints

on a dead man's wallet?
Did he just happen to drop it,

and you politely
picked it up for him?

And why did
my detectives find

this unregistered .45
in your apartment,

which just happens to match

the size of the bullet hole
in my victim?

Hey.
- If you're so innocent, Mr. D'André,

why did you resist arrest

and try to put one of
my detectives through a wall?

(Beckett) Your silence only makes you look guiltier.
You know, the right turtleneck,

give me a reason...
And no one is even gonna notice, bro.

Maybe a scarf.
(Grunts)

(Beckett) Why don't you
just confess to the truth?

It's gonna come out
sooner or later.

He was already dead.

With a wallet lying
conveniently next to him?

(Exhales)
(Castle) Uh, look,

if you're not
going to admit to it,

you might at least want
to try coming up with a story

that's a little more convincing.

It's what happened!

Like you weren't scared.

I want this guy
to fry, Beckett.

Oh, he will,

as soon as Lanie confirms that
that bullet is a .45.

It's not a .45.
Are you sure?

I'm positive.
.38?

Nope. It's not
a .44 or a .357

or a .22 or a 9 millimeter

or any other kind of bullet
I've ever seen.

(Castle) So it's
a new kind of bullet.

Oh, no. Not new at all.
Check it out.

Oh, it's round.
You see that white coating?

Yeah. What is it, oxidation?

Lead oxide, to be exact.
Rust?

Yep. Based on
the amount of it,

I'd say that bullet
is 200 years old.

(Castle) A 200-year-old bullet
can only mean one thing.

Time-traveling killer.

♪ Castle 3x04 ♪
Punked
Original Air Date on October 11, 2010

(Elevator Bell dings)

Ergo, the killer
could've entered present time

through a time ripple,
killed Goldstein,

and then gone back through
the time ripple,

which means we just have to
find the time ripple.

Could you please stop saying
"time ripple"?

Yeah. It sounds kinda dirty,
doesn't it?

What if
the ripple closed?

Time machine.
(Snaps fingers)

We need a time machine.
Well, in this century,

we still haven't ruled out
our big buddy Mr. D'André.

Yeah, he just doesn't seem like
the time-travel type to me.

Can't be
a time-traveling killer.

Bullet had 200 years of rust
on it. If the killer had been

a time traveler, the bullet
would've been brand-new.

Unless time travel
causes rust.

On your brain.
Have you followed up

with the victim's sister
regarding the antique bullet?

Yep. She has no clue about
antique bullets or guns,

but there's somebody who does.

Abe Sandrich--antique weapons
expert you requested.

That reminds me,
I'm starving.

(Siren wailing)

I like .45s.

Catch the right angle,

this sucker could
take your head clean off.

But... (Sighs)

It's not the gun
you're looking for.

Why is that?

Barrel would've
had to be modified.

This one's factory fresh.

(Lowered voice) Well,
do you think D'André the giant

was telling the truth

when he said he found
the wallet in the grass?

(Lowered voice) Well, the killer
did take Goldstein's clothes,

so it's possible that
the wallet might have fallen out

when he left the crime scene.

(Normal voice)
What kind of a pistol

would've fired that bullet?

We usually
just call 'em lead balls

for, uh, obvious reasons.

I'd say a whole lot
of 18th century flintlocks--

too many brands
to even speculate.

You'll need to find
the actual pistol

to match it this lead ball.

And how many people would own
that kind of antique pistol?

It's hard to say.
They're considered collectibles,

so they don't
have to be registered.

Making it pretty smart
to kill someone with one.

Oh, yeah.

The guns may be old,

but, uh, they got plenty
of killing left in 'em.

So is, uh, D'André our guy?

I'm afraid not.

W-why did he go
all Hulk Hogan on me?

Well, why did the scorpion
sting the frog? It's his nature.

Yeah, well,
D'André will be seeing nature

from behind bars from now on
for assaulting an officer.

I'll see he gets the Max,
Detective.

Thank you, Captain.

You can take a couple days
if you like, catch some movies.

Read "Naked Heat."

No. No need, sir.

Still no luck with the clothes.
Unis looked in every garbage can

within 5-block radius
of the park.

What is so special
about these clothes

that our killer
would take them?

Maybe the killer came through
the time ripple naked

and needed the clothes...

Like in "the Terminator."

Sadly, I don't have
a better theory at this point.

So the question is,

what did a Wall Street
number cruncher like Goldstein

get himself into?

Castle and I will go
to his firm.

You guys see if you can track
down any antique gun enthusiasts

on social media sites
or local clubs.

Maybe someone from
Goldstein's life will pop.

You got it.

(Grunts)

(Growls)

You know, I just don't get

how someone could shoot
Goldstein, steal his clothes,

and then not hang on
to his wallet.

It just doesn't make
any sense.

No.

Maybe giant moths killed him
and then ate his clothes.

Could be.

Hey, Castle.

If this case is boring for you,
you don't have to stay.

No, I-I'm just checking my e-mails,
my texts, see if Alexis called.

I can't believe she told
my mother she's in love

and is holding out on me.
Oh.

I'm gonna call her.

No, no. You have to
let her tell you

in her own time,
when she's ready.

I'm the cool dad.
Why can't she be ready?

Listen to me.

My dad tried to do the same
thing when I was her age,

and I ended up dating
a grunge rocker who smelled like

wet flannel and clove cigarettes
for seven months.

You do not mess with
a teenage girl and her hormones.

You're right.

(Elevator Bell dings)
I won't call her.

(Clicks button)

Did you say something
about a giant moth?

Nope.

(Man) In his underwear?

Danny's been working for me
for two years, but

I just don't know what he'd
have been up to in the park.

He wasn't exactly
the outdoors type.

What about antique guns,
Mr. Murphy?

Do you know anything
about them?

Antiques? No. No,
he wasn't into guns at all.

Well, I understand
that he worked long hours.

Do you know when he left
last night?

Uh, yeah,
right around 9:30.

Oh, hey. Let me help you
with that.

Thanks.
(Murphy) This is Julia Foster, Danny's assistant.

This is Detective Beckett
and Richard Castle.

Hi.
Hi.

Were you here last night
when Goldstein left?

Of course.
Any idea where he was heading?

No, he just said good night.
And what about during the day,

was there anything
out of the ordinary,

any strange phone calls?

No, just the usual
unhappy investor. Although...

Although what?

The Lower Tide Fund.

(Castle) What's that?

It was one of the financial
products Daniel created for us.

A synthetic C.D.O. cubed.

English?
A really big bet

that prices would return
to historical norms.

(Beckett) So what happened?
It tanked.

Hundreds of millions of dollars
were lost overnight.

When was this?
Three months ago.

There must have been
a lot of angry investors.

We fielded scores of less-than-complimentary
messages from clients.

More like apoplectic,
and a lot of them blamed Danny.

All right, well, I'll need
a copy of all of these messages

and a list of anyone who lost
their money in the fund.

(Beeping)

Any luck connecting
antique gun owners

to investors in Goldstein's
failed fund, detectives?

Nah. So far I've seen
a lot of cool, old guns

on these social media sites
for antique gun lovers,

but none of the owners pop
in Goldstein's life.

Irwin "Quick Draw" Finkelstein,

proud owner
of a remington outlaw

made in 1875.

Now that's
a great-looking gun.
Mm-hmm.

Check it out, Esposito.

(Groans)

Yeah, that's nice.

See, back then, they were into
the artistry of it all.

Yeah, they're like little
sculptures that can kill.

Well, this list of
Lower Tide Fund investors,

they all lost more than
a million bucks apiece.

(Montgomery) $1 million?
Mm-hmm.

If I had that kind of scratch,
I'd put it in something safe,

like my mattress.
(Chuckles) Check it out.

Ivan "Yosemite Sam" Podofski.

Wait a minute.
Ivan Podofski?

Yeah, what do you got?
(Groans)

(Beeping)

Boom.

(Montgomery)
Looks like we have a winner.

You're right. He does kinda
look like Yosemite Sam.

On a bad hair day.

Yeah, well, in addition

to having
an antique gun collection,

Mr. Podofski here lost
more than 4 million bucks

in our vic's Lower Tide Fund.

He also left
this message for Goldstein

the day the fund flatlined.

They had a way of handling
folks like you

in the old country,
Goldstein.

It's called a firing squad.

Do you think he offered him
a blindfold and a cigarette?

They had a way of handling
folks like you

in the old country,
Goldstein.

It's called a firing squad.

I think some context
is in order.

I had only just lost
$4 million.

Yes, and in that context,

you threatened
to kill Mr. Goldstein,

and then he was killed.

Where were you last night
between 11:00 and 1:00?

Asleep in my bed.

And can anyone
vouch for that?

Me.
Myself and I got your back, too?

Okay, look,
I know how this appears.

But I think there's,
uh, an explanation.

Fire away.

Several months ago, I had
a consultation at Berman Rose.

When I mentioned my guns,
Goldstein asked if I knew

how he could get ahold
of a Sherlock Holmes gun.

So you're pointing the finger
at Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?

I'm saying that Goldstein
clearly had an interest

in antique guns.

Maybe that interest
got him killed.

If you're so confident

that Goldstein got mixed up
with someone else,

I'm sure you won't mind
submitting your collection

for testing with ballistics.

These are antiques,
Detective.

Would you prefer
being arrested for murder?

(Snaps)

(Ryan) Ballistics has taken
possession of Podofski's guns.

They should have
preliminary results by tomorrow.

They never prefer
to be arrested for murder.

Hmm. All right. Keep at it.
Yeah.

Yo. Just got a hit
from Goldstein's car

from traffic enforcement.

Parking ticket
from last night.

No way.
What?

This has gotta be a joke.
What are you talking about, Castle?

Goldstein drives a DeLorean.

The car used as a time machine
in "Back to the Future"?

There's no way
that's a coincidence.

The ticket was written
at 2:00 in the morning.

That's postmortem.
Car should still be there.

Yeah, East 82nd
between Lex and Third.

That's a few blocks
from the park.

Yeah, but if you're
gonna park illegally,

why not park closer?
Hmm.

Because he was going
somewhere on that block.

Three more parking tickets
in the last several months,

all on 82nd
between Lex and third.

So he was going somewhere
regularly on that block.

Maybe a girlfriend.

Unless you think that's where
that time ripple is.

Could be.

Look into it.
Pick that car up.

(Esposito) Gotcha.

You gotta be kidding me.
(Laughs)

Well, it's definitely
Goldstein's car...

Or a... time machine.

Yep. If I'm not mistaken, that's
a flux capacitor in there.

And that
is the reactor core.

Maybe Castle was right.

Goldstein came back
to the future,

and he got whacked, huh?
(Sighs)

Why'd he keep coming here?
I don't know.

Maybe there's something
in the car that'll help.

Hope so. Lot of doors
to knock on.

Wow. (Inhales sharply)
Mm.

Yo, Patty. I got a vic's car
that needs towing.

It's at 238 East 82nd.

It's an '81 to '82 DeLorean.

New York plates J-L-D--

Hey, Javi.

(Clatters)

Let me call you back.

(Ryan) Excuse us, sir.

I'm Detective Ryan.
This is Detective Esposito.

Do you mind if we
ask you a few questions?

(British accent) Ah! Top of
the morning to you, constables.

Lord Henry at your service.

Uh, thanks. You mind telling us
where you got those clothes?

Oh, not at all, dear boy.
I picked them up

at the haberdashery
across the park.

Well, gentlemen,
if that is all,

I shall bid you good day.

Just a second, pal.

You know, we think those clothes
might have been involved--

I said "good day."

Sir, we need you to come down--
good day!

Whoa! Whoa!

Ya! Ya!
Hey!

(Shouting indistinctly)

(Grunts)
Ah!

You all right, bro?

You're coming with me.
I'm fine.

(Handcuffs click)
Unhand me, you rogue!

(Beckett) All right.
Thank you, Ryan.

How's Esposito?

At home resting.
(Beeps)

So our Lord Henry's story
checks out.

Ryan found a matching ascot
in a garbage can

where Henry said
that he found the clothes.

Our guy might be unstable,
but he is not our killer.

So why was Goldstein
wearing this costume?

Well, it's victorian,
antique...

Kind of fits with
the whole time traveler theory,

don't you think?

I don't know what to think,
but the plot thickens.

Forensics came back
on the clothes?

Between the garbage can
and our homeless guy,

there was quite a list
of gross-out substances,

of which I will spare you
the details, but I did find

something interesting
on the right hand glove

and the right sleeve
of the shirt--

potassium,
nitrate and sulfur.

Gunshot residue?

So Goldstein did not
go quietly into the night,

he had a gun.
And he fired back.

(Beeping)

(Beeping rapidly)

I got something here.

(Beeping fades)

Beckett.

Another antique.

Looks exactly like the one
that killed Goldstein.

Yes it does.

Let's say that our killer...

Let's say that our killer
is standing...

Over here.

(Clears throat)

Goldstein was killed
all the way over there.

A nice flat area
between them.

What are you getting at,
Castle, some kind of game?
Not a game.

Goldstein was wearing formal
turn-of-the-century clothes.

He shot an antique bullet

identical to the one
he was killed with,

probably fired
from an identical gun.

(Whispers)
Four, five, six, seven.

(Normal voice) Lanie said he was
killed at about midnight?

St. James church
is right over there--

thanks--on Madison.

I bet they could hear
the bells chiming

all the way from over here.

(Whispers) 39, 40...

Ish. Ha.

They stood at about 40 paces
from one another.

It wasn't a game.

It was an old-fashioned duel.

(Lock clicks)

Who dares besmirch...

Oh, God, don't shoot!
My honor?

It's okay, Ashley.
He's not gonna shoot you.

What the heck, dad?!

I might be asking you
the same...

Ashley?
This is Ashley?

Ash, this is my dad, Rick.

And I have no idea
why he's waving a gun.

So nice to meet you,
Mr. Castle.

You, too, Ashley,

and I have a perfectly good
reason why I'm waving a gun.

Excuse us.

(Whispers)
Explain yourself.

I got this gun
for research for a case,

which you might know if you
had checked in with me today.

What's that supposed to mean?

Let's just say, one of us
has nothing to hide.

Perhaps you'd like
to explain yourself?

What, that I was
kissing a boy?

Is that a problem?
You tell me.

Dad, the only reason
I invited Ashley over tonight

was so you could meet him.

Yes, well, me meeting Ashley

has smeared the lip gloss
all over your face.

Uh, I-I-I really
should be going.

(Normal voice)
You can stay, Ashley.

Oh, the gun.

My bad.

Please, Ashley, stay.

You can check out the gun.
No, thanks.

Call me later?
Yeah, if it's okay with your gun...

Dad.

Yeah, it's okay with me.

Thank you.

And I-I-I just want you to know
how much I respect Alexis.

I mean, you don't have to worry
about issues of respect.

She's probably the most
respectable person I know,

and I-I respect you, too.

That's good to know that.

Thank you.

(Exhales)

I like him.

He's respectful.

Got it. Thanks.

Hey.

Hey. So Ivan Podofski's antique
gun collection all cleared ballistics.

Well, at least some guy
in ballistics

had fun firing 'em off.
Hmm.

I also checked with Goldstein's
sister and coworkers.

None of them know anything about
duels or victorian clothes

or what Goldstein was doing
on East 82nd.

Sounds like he had
a secret life.

That somehow led to a duel.

Maybe he figured someone
besmirched his honor.

Maybe it was about a girl.
Matter of fact, Alexis,

her new boyfriend--who has
a girl's name, by the way--

he thought I was gonna
shoot him last night.

Hey.
Hey. How's Esposito?

He's sleeping in,
mostly because he can't move.

Did you figure out what Goldstein
was doing on East 82nd?

No, but get this. I'm going
through Goldstein's car,

and I find a pile of receipts
he must have been planning

to submit for reimbursement,

one of 'em from three weeks ago
at a café.

On it, he wrote
"coffee with Troy Kenworth,"

and that name
kinda rings a bell.

One of the angry
Lower Tide Fund investors?

No, but his father
Charles Kenworth was.

Guy loses 2 million bucks,

and then he loses his house,
his marriage,

and then two months ago,
he killed himself.

Did Troy have any priors?

Yeah, more like afters.

After his father
committed suicide,

he was charged with assault
in four separate bar fights.

Revenge... oldest motive
for murder in the book.

Maybe Troy thought someone
besmirched his father's honor.

And then he forced Goldstein
to settle the score.

Yeah, I was the one
who found his body.

(Beckett) The report says
that he used a shotgun.

Hey.

Why aren't you in there?

Beckett's doing
a mothering thing.

Wanted to limit
the testosterone on the room.

I can't imagine
walking in on that.

Yeah.

Pretty messy.
I try not to think about it.

I understand.

But since then, Mr. Kenworth,

you have charges pending
in four assault cases.

I started drinking too much,
lashed out.

But those were just
random people at bars.

I mean, they weren't even
responsible

for your father's suicide.

But Goldstein...

He put your father
in the fund

that lost him
all of his money.

I could understand
blaming him.

I did, but then
I talked to him, and he said

that he warned pop
to diversify.

And the fact is,
dad and mom

have been having problems
for years.

When we lost the house,
and I had to drop out of school,

it was the last straw,
and mom left him.

That's what pushed him
over the edge,

and ever since his death,
mom's been struggling

to make payments
on our apartment.

Is that why you went to go
see Goldstein three weeks ago?

I wanted to find out if any
money was left in the account.

And what did Goldstein
tell you?

The truth.
All the money's gone.

Well, that must have
made you pretty angry.

Okay, I know
what you're getting at,

but that meeting
is what turned me around.

I haven't had a drink since,

mom and I have been able
to stay in our place.

I might even go back to school
next semester.

All because Danny's a stand-up
guy, and he gave me a job.

That's where I was
the night he got killed.

At Berman Rose?

Uh, no.

What kind of a job
did Danny give you?

I can't say.

Look, I had to sign
a confidentiality agreement.

Okay? I could be fired.
Or you could be arrested.

Is this job on 82nd
between Lex and Third?

What was the exact number
of pounds that Mr. Fogg bet

that he could travel
around the world in 80 days?

20,000.
Correct, sir.

Name the volcano that led
to the center of the Earth.

Oh, I want to say--

NYPD. Open the damn door.

(Alec Ounsworth's
"Me and You, Watson" playing)

♪ The sound of the foghorn,
it tears me from my sleep ♪

♪ I'm much too tired
for the waking ♪

♪ but too wired
for the sheep ♪

♪ and the anvil's
on the table ♪

♪ the sword is on the door,
it's time to pick up... ♪

Hello!

Where are we?
(Man) Victorian London.

When are we?
1892.

What is this place?

The Gaslamp League,
a private steampunk society.

Straight ahead

you'll find our club president,
Owen Peterson.

He's on the penny-farthing.

All right then.

♪ And empty the contents
of your purse ♪

♪ me and you, Watson,
me and you... ♪

Oh, it's the time machine
from "Time and Away."

I love that movie.
(Man) Owen!

Give us a poem!

Steampunk.

(Castle) It's a subculture
that embraces

the simplicity and romance
of the past

at the same time, couples it
with the hope and promise

and sheer super-coolness
of futuristic design.

You're cloned, you say?
There are more of you?

Well, the more the merrier!

To ewes all, I'll be true.

(All imitate sheep bleating)

(Applause)

Excuse me, Mr. Peterson.
I'm Detective--

Can I try that?

(Laughs) Ah.

I don't know
what to tell you, Detective.

We all heard about Danny
yesterday. Hard to believe.

We saw him here
the night before.

Well, the way you and your
friends were yukking it up

makes me feel like
you weren't so upset.

We're just romantics,
Detective.

Look at the world,
don't like what we see,

so we recreate it here--

an oasis where human potential
and ingenuity is limitless,

where there's poetry and wonder
and meaning, even in death.

What time did he leave that night?

Around 11:30.

Did he tell you
what he was doing?

No.

He went to the park
for a duel.

What do you mean, a duel?

The kind where people
shoot at each other.

They were using
antique guns.

Do you know anything
about that?

(Indistinct conversations)

Dueling pistols.

With, uh, lead balls

with white coating?

(Sniffs)

This has been fired
recently.

But they're just for show.

Adam, stop! Stop!

Oh, my God! Oh!
(Man) Oh, goodness!

(Grunts)
(People speaking indistinctly)

Out of the way!
Get out of the way!

I think he's going
for the time machine!

It's just a bunch
of interviews.

I don't know why you didn't
take the whole day off.

Because I'm fine.

(Beckett) Murphy!

Stop him!

Oh! Oh! Ow! Aah!

(Esposito groans)

Hey, Esposito.

How's your neck?

(Groans)

Yeah, I shot him.

He just kinda
crumpled over backwards,

but I thought he was kidding.

I jogged over expecting him
to jump up any second,

but he was just--
just lying there so still,

a-and then I saw the blood,
and I hear Julia.

She's on her knees screaming,
"no. Please, God, no."

I-I-I freaked out.

We took his clothes,
and--and I just ran.

Julia? You mean
Goldstein's assistant?

He was in love with her.

Had they been seeing each other
a long time?

No, no,
Dan just kissed her once,

a couple weeks ago
out at a bar,

but she--she wasn't interested
in him.

So you were involved with her?

Not really involved,

but Dan caught us
fooling around in my office

late one night last week.

And you couldn't think of
a better way of settling this

other than a duel?

We--we--we just thought
it would be funny.

Danny swore
that we couldn't get hurt.

Shooting at each other?

He--he ran
all these complex equations.

He said--said that at 40 paces,
there was no chance

that we could actually hit
each other, something about

18th century guns having
no rifling in the barrel.

So if you couldn't
kill each other,

what was the point
of the duel?

(Voice breaks)
To impress Julia.

(Normal voice) She would never
get serious with geeks like us.

But we figured that maybe if--
if she saw us duel over her,

then... (Crying)
Maybe that one--that one of--

one of us c--

(sniffles)

(Crying)

Julia confirmed that she was

the only other person
present at the duel.

No one else knew.

All right. Let her go.

(Continues crying)

(Beckett) How do you point
the gun at someone

and shoot
and not expect to kill them?

Well, they were blinded by
the romance of it all,

and Goldstein did the math.

Well, between this
and the Lower Tide Fund,

maybe he wasn't such a genius.

Or maybe
he's just unlucky.

Well, then I've got a problem,

because I have to make
a recommendation to the D.A.

Between murder
and manslaughter,

the difference being
life in prison

or just a couple of years.

I mean, are antique guns
really so inaccurate?

Only one way to find out.

(Nitzer Ebb's
"Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" playing)

♪ Kiss kiss ♪

♪ bang bang kiss kiss ♪

that's your target.
That's my target.

Yeah, well, I--

shoot your target.

♪ Bang bang ♪

♪ kiss kiss ♪

♪ bang bang ♪

♪ kiss kiss bang bang ♪

♪ kiss kiss ♪

♪ bang bang ♪

♪ kiss kiss bang bang ♪

(gunfire)

♪ There's always
something behind ♪

♪ you think
I'm deaf, dumb and blind ♪

♪ a loving word ♪

♪ and then you go bang bang ♪

♪ kiss kiss,
kiss kiss bang bang ♪

(gunfire)

♪

Manslaughter it is.

Yeah.

♪

(creaking and clicking)

Hey, dad.

Hey, there's my girl.

Come here.

(Laughs) Hey.

(Clicking)
Mm. Oh, um...

Sorry. Hang on.

(Knob squeaks, valve hisses)
Okay. There we go.

(Laughs)

Hey, about, uh, last night,

um, I was...
It was unexpected.

Yeah.
I'm--I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, too. I should've
told you Ashley was a boy.

No, why, uh,
why spoil the surprise?

So I have a question
for you,

but it's
a little embarrassing.

Ooh. I love
when you embarrass yourself.

Dad.

Well, hey, listen,
you can, uh...

You can ask me
whatever you want,

and... I promise,
I'll do my best

to make it as unembarrassing
as possible.

How do you know
when you're in love?

I know it's an emotion...

Well--
a feeling, and you can't exactly define,

like, technically, how you know
when you're feeling it,

but since
I've never felt it before,

how do I know what I'm feeling
is even it at all?

(Mutters)
Except, of course,
for the fact

that I'm feeling all these
things I've never felt before,

like in my stomach and my throat
and even kind of in my ears.

I mean, which just has to mean
that it's love, right?

Considering I only feel them
when I'm with Ashley

or thinking about him,

I mean,
that's gotta be love, right?

If--
'cause I'm feeling all these
things I've read about in poems

and heard about in songs
but never completely understood,

but now I do. I understand.
And I'm listening

to all this music
and reading all this poetry

in a completely new
and glorious light,

which I think just has to mean
that it's love.

What do you think?
I--

I can't stop thinking about him,
daddy. I don't even want to,

'cause he's the greatest,
sweetest, most adorable guy,

and his nose crinkles when he
laughs, and I'm just so happy.

Thanks, dad.
I love you.

I feel so much better now.

(Laughs)

I'm glad we had that talk.

(Doorbell buzzes)

Beckett.

How do you know
when you're in love?

All the songs make sense.

Adam Murphy
didn't kill Goldstein.

But he confessed.

And I believe that he believes
he did it, but he didn't.

Do tell.
It bothered me

that we couldn't hit the target
at the shooting range,

and so I ran ballistics
on the dueling pistols.

The bullet
that hit Daniel Goldstein

didn't match
either one of them.

Adam couldn't
have killed him.

You're talking full-on,
grassy knoll conspiracy theory.

Not theory, fact.

There was a third shooter,
and that's our killer.

(Clinks)

Hey, Beckett!

Did you find
Adam Murphy's bullet?

Lead ball.

Yep.
He didn't kill Goldstein.

But he did kill squirrelstein.

(Blows air)

What are the odds, huh?

Oh, no.
They took his clothes, too.

Could you?
Aww.

Yeah, I know.
I'm sorry.

(Police radio chatter)

Okay, so we know that Goldstein
was standing right over here...

(Castle) Facing Adam,
who was right over there.

Right, and if our killer
wanted to shoot him

without either of them
seeing him,

he would be standing
right over...

There,
by that clump of trees.

(Police radio chatter continues)

(Woman) Detective,
I've got clothing fibers.

(Castle) Right where a shooter
would brace himself.

This thread look familiar?

Oh, I'd recognize
that burgundy velvet anywhere.

Kinda says "steampunk,"
doesn't it?

Matter of fact,

I think I know
the murder weapon.

(Speaks indistinctly)
Volcano in "Journey to
the Center of the Earth"--

Snaefells?

Castle.

(Mouths word)

Couldn't stay away, huh?
Can I get you guys something?

(Beckett) Sure, Troy.

We're looking for a shooter.

Actually, I think
we already found one.

Nice uniform, by the way.

We found
your father's shotgun.

We know that you modified it

in order to shoot
antique lead ball bullets.

What are you talking about?

Adam Murphy already confessed
right?

Turns out Adam Murphy
couldn't have done it.

It's a sciencey
ballistics thing.

It was pretty clever,
firing your father's shotgun

at the exact moment that Adam
and Goldstein fired their guns.

(Castle) Making Adam believe

that he was the one
that killed Goldstein,

right as the church bells
chimed midnight.

Isn't that right?

♪

Seeing him in here
every night

in that ridiculous outfit...

Just throwing around
all that money?

Why should he
get to live like that

when my dad's dead?

Knowing that our shooter
was a staff member at the club

lead us straight back to Troy.

He overheard Goldstein and Murphy
planning the duel,

and took his opportunity.
And then Troy's alibi fell apart

as soon as we started
interviewing other staff members

who couldn't remember
seeing him there

half an hour before
or after the duel.

Dueling over a girl, avenging
the death of a loved one...

Cuts to the heart
of romance.

And the tragedy.

Speaking of tragedy, did you
hear about Detective Esposito?

No. What about him?

Oh. He...

(Metal squeaking)

Oh...

(Castle) God, no.

Dude... what happened?

No, no, I don't want to hear it.
Esposito...

Dude, are you okay?
No, I'm okay. Whoa!

(Ryan) Oh! (Laughs)
Hey! (Laughs)

(Laughs) No, I r--
I really am fine, bro.

We got this stuff from storage.
Oh, you shoulda seen your faces.

Captain, you really sold that.

"Speaking of tragedy, did you
hear about Detective Esposito?"

Hey.
Sir.

(Laughs) That was good.
Ow! I'm not really that fine.

Oh, oh, yeah, let me just-- sorry.
Neck brace, please. Neck brace.

Lock it down. Lock it down.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Kate.

Josh, what are you
doing here?

Oh, I got your text.

You mean the text where I said
I was gonna pick you up?

(Chuckles) Yeah,
I was nearby.

Well, uh, Josh,
this is Captain Montgomery,

Richard Castle,
Detectives Esposito and Ryan.

Hey, boys.
(Montgomery and Esposito) Boys?

Catch any bad guys today?
Every day.

(Chuckles) You all set?
Yeah, let me just get my stuff.

Okay.

So...

You and Beckett?

Mm-hmm.
What about us?

You tell me.

You're the writer.

Yeah.

Yeah, and...

And you are?

Oh, Kate hasn't told you
about me, has she?

What's to tell?

(Beckett) Hey.

You ready to go?

Yeah.
Hey, I'll see you around.

Bye, guys.

Later.

Just you?

(Laughs) Yes.

Thanks for that talk
last night.

I feel so much better.

Hey, you can, uh...

You can always talk to me...

Or at me.

Yeah.

Being in love
is exhausting.

(Sighs)

Yeah, you got that right.

(Sighs)

You okay, dad?

You seem distracted.

What are you talking about?
You have my undivided attention.

Good, because I want
to go on a date tonight.

How's that sound?

Of course. Great.
Have a good time.

I meant with you, dad.

You'll always be
my go-to guy.

Did gram put you up to this?

I have no idea
what you're talking about.

Pity date.

I'll take it.
(Laughs)

You're a terrible liar.

(Laughs)