Castle (2009–2016): Season 4, Episode 14 - The Blue Butterfly - full transcript

♪ Comes a rainstorm ♪

♪ put your rubbers
on your feet ♪

♪ comes a snowstorm ♪

♪ you can get a little heat ♪

♪ come love ♪

♪ nothing can be done ♪

Keep 'em comin', pal.
You're doing great.

♪ Comes a fire ♪

Say, maybe you can help me.
I'm lookin' for a dame.

Aren't we all?

This one's special.
You know her?

Know her?

I'm lookin' at her.

♪ Come love ♪

♪ nothing can be done ♪

And where have you been
all my life?

Talk about a slice of history.

The Penny Baker club.

You know, back in the '40s,
all the greats played here.

If these walls could talk, man,
the stories they would tell.

Yeah, but the only story
we need to hear is about...

Stan banks. Single G.S.W.
to the sternum.

I'm calling the time of death

between 6:00 and 8:00
this morning.

Looks like he tried to
defend himself with this.

Obviously, it didn't work.

So a robbery gone wrong?

Well, he still had
his wallet, cell,

and a room key from
the Parksville arms, so...

Pockets were pulled out,

indicating the killer
searched the body.

For what, we have no idea.

That's weird.
He's got an S.R.O. key,

but his driver's license
has him living on 34th street.

We'll hit the S.R.O.

See if there's anything
we can find out about him.

Thanks.

You lookin' for a drink,
Castle?

'Cause I'm pretty sure
the bar is closed.

Actually, I was looking
for a clue.

I think I found one.

Well, whoever he is,
maybe he saw something.

I'll get patrol units
to canvass the area.

Stan's dead?

Well, that's just great.

What am I supposed to do
with all his crap?

We'll be taking
some of it off your hands

as part of our investigation.

You know of anyone who's been
threatening Stan lately?

I'm the manager here,
not the den mother.

Okay, then. When was
the last time you saw him?

Uh, this morning.
Stan was all smiles.

Gave notice he was moving out
'cause his ship was coming in.

- What ship?
- Oh, I don't know.

The "Titanic"
from the looks of things.

Well, if you can
remember anything else,

can you please give me a call?

Don't hold your breath,
hotshot.

I think she likes you.

I have no idea why Stan
was at the Penny Baker club.

But we've been separated
for almost a year,

so God knows where he's been.

And when was the last time
you spoke with him?

Two months ago, which is crazy,

'cause there was a time
we couldn't go two hours

without talking.

But then Stan had to go
and find that doubloon.

A doubloon,
as in old Spanish coin?

He dug one up on a beach
in north Carolina.

And after that, he got the bug.

And it only got worse after
he saw this stupid documentary

about Clyde Belasco,
the treasure hunter.

Yeah, that's the fellow

who found that sunken
confederate ship ten years ago.

Stan was so inspired,

he quit his accounting job
to search for lost antiquities.

I mean, even the last time
we spoke,

all he could talk about
was how he was close

to finding a blue butterfly.

A blue...
Like an insect?

Who knows?

Was he having problems with
anyone that you know of?

He had money problems.
I know that.

I got a call two days ago
from some guy

looking for Stan.

Said that Stan owed him $10,000

and that he'd better pay

or else.

There's nothing
in Stan's personal effects

about butterflies,
blue or otherwise.

Just a bunch of books

about mobsters and Manhattan
in the '40s.

That's all right,
because I got a hit

on that threatening
money call to Stan's wife,

and it turns out
it came from a dry cleaners.

Maybe clothes aren't the only
thing they're laundering.

I'll check it out.

Thanks.

Uh, this diary in Stan's stuff,

it's also from the '40s.

It sounds like it belonged
to a private eye.

Listen to this.

"Usually wives
turn on the waterworks

"when shown pictures of
their husbands stepping out,

"but not this dame.

"She wanted payback.
So what's worse,

"that I pitched woo
with a client

or that I invoiced her
for services rendered after?"

Cute.

Cute?

I mean, this guy sounds like
a hard-boiled P.I.

Right out of
a Raymond Chandler novel.

I wonder why Stan had this?

Hey, yo, Beckett.

Still got no word
on that homeless guy,

but a bodega owner
saw a white mustang

parked in the loading zone
right outside the club

for the past three days.

Okay. See if anyone saw
those license plates.

- Right on.
- Okay.

Um, Beckett?

Can I take this home
for the night?

I mean, it might be the key
to what Stan was looking for.

You just want to read it
because you think it's cool.

Yeah, well, that, too.

Okay, just so long as you...

Bring it back in the morning.

"June 18, 1947.

"The day began like every other,

"pulling awake in my office chair

"with a cream of Kentucky bottle,

"a dry throat,

"and a head that was
ringing like church bells.

"So I figured I'd kill
two birds with one stone

with a little hair of
the dog that bit me."

Ohh.

Oh.

Damn it, Mr. Flynn.

Why have an apartment

when you drink yourself to sleep
in the office every night?

That way,
I'm never late for work.

Say, what gives, anyhow?

We have a potential client,
so be nice.

I'd like to make
next month's rent

if you don't mind.

All right?

How do I look?

Like a star.

"Just another day on the
isle of Manhattan"...

"Until she walked in

"with a case that changed my life.

"Wearing t-strap shoes
and a country suit,

"I could tell that that redhead

was a hick fresh off the cob."

- Hello.
- My name's Sally Mulqueen.

I mean, Scofield.
Sorry, I'm a newlywed.

Still gettin' used to the name.

Joe Flynn, Mrs. Scofield.

So tell me, what has you
knocking on my shingle?

I- I talked my husband
into honeymoon in'

up here in the big apple,

but not because I wanted
to climb skyscrapers

and see Broadway shows.

I had myself another reason.

See, I'm lookin' for
my big sister Vera.

Vera Mulqueen.

There was bad blood back home,

and Vera ran off two years ago

with dreams of being a showgirl
up here in the big city.

She send you a wire, postcard,
anything with a return address?

Can you find her, mister?

Mama's sick, and, um...

Doesn't have long.

Well, of course he can...

For 15 bucks a day
plus expenses.

Only...

Can we keep this quiet?

Like I said,
there's bad blood back home,

and if Vera hears
from a stranger

that the family's
looking for her,

it might push her farther away.

Mrs. Scofield,

if I'm anything, I'm discreet.

"And that's when I saw her.

"Looking at that photograph,
all I could think was,

what a beautiful doll."

"Sally said Vera had dreams
of being a showgirl.

"Maybe she made it.

Stranger things have
happened in this town."

"My last stop was the Penny Baker club.

I was hoping my favorite
performer Satchmo was blowing."

Excuse me, pal.

"But no such luck.

"Couldn't complain, though,

"because Betsy Sinclair was up there,

and that songbird's got golden pipes."

♪ Nothing can be done ♪

Whiskey.

"I'll be damned if all that walking

"didn't get the shrapnel
in my hip buzzing.

But I knew where to get my medicine."

♪ Blow a tire,
you can buy another shoe ♪

♪ come love ♪

♪ nothing can be done ♪

Say, maybe you can help me.
I'm lookin' for a dame.

Aren't we all?

This one's special.
You know her?

Know her?

I'm lookin' at her.

♪ 'Cause there isn't any use ♪

And where have you been
all my life?

"What was I thinking?

"This dame was trouble on two legs.

"I kept telling myself to look away.

"She was with Tom Dempsey,
for crying out loud...

"the most ruthless mob boss

New York has ever given birth to."

"Dempsey sent over two
of his gorillas...

"an Irishman,

and a Cuban on loan from
some Havana mob family."

The boss
wants to see you, boy-o.

Sorry, boys.

My dance card's full.

This isn't a request, compadre.

You know who I am?

The waiter?
I'll take a whiskey.

The boys here can share
a sloe gin fizz.

Better watch yourself,
there, boy-o.

Hold your tongue,
or I'll cut it out.

Mm, a wise guy.

Ohh!

I hate wise guys

about as much as I hate crumbs
eyeballing my girl.

It's rude, uncivil.

That's all right, friend.

The boys are gonna teach you
some lessons.

Okay, boy-o,
first lesson.

Mm.

Ohh.

Oh!

Over here. Get him.

"There I was,

"covered in the discards
of the blue plate special,

"asking myself, 'was it worth it?'"

"It was.

She was worth every punch."

Are you hurt?

What, this?

It's nothin'.

You should see what my face
did to the other guy's fist.

So what's your name, tough guy?

Does it matter, doll?

You know you're not supposed
to leave our sight

with the boss' hardware on.

The blue butterfly.

It's a necklace.

That's why Stan banks
was killed.

Why am I narrating?

So anything on that threatening
call to the dry cleaners?

Yeah, the owner claims he doesn't know
anything about Stan or blue butterflies.

However, a guy named ray Horton
rents out a back room.

Turns out ray is a bookie
on parole.

Okay, so maybe Stan was trying
to meet ray at the Penny Baker

so that he could pay off
some debts?

Uh, Stan was not there
because of his debt.

He was not even there
about a blue butterfly.

He was there
about the blue butterfly.

It's a necklace.

A butterfly-shaped centerpiece
made entirely of...

Blue diamonds

worth about
a million dollars, easy.

Where are you getting
all of this?

From the P.I.'s diary.

So Stan was on a treasure hunt.

Exactly.
I did a little research.

I turns out
the blue butterfly disappeared

sometime in the '40s,

and rumor has it,
it's hidden somewhere

in the Penny Baker club.

If he found it...

A million-dollar necklace?
Talk about motive for murder.

By the way, Ryan,
say boy-o.

- Boy-o.
- Boy-o.

- Boy- o.
- Boy-o.

- Boy- o.
- Anyway.

Did some searching on the net.

There wasn't a lot there.

But I found,
it's supposedly cursed,

and at one time belonged
to an S.S. officer's mistress.

After the war,
made its way stateside

and into the hands
of mob boss Tom Dempsey,

who owned the club, which is
why we need to go back.

- We do?
- Yeah.

You remember the, uh,

green rod we found
in Stan's hand?

Apparently,
Dempsey's downstairs office

was painted shamrock green.

Stan had to have
gone down there.

Also, according to the diary,
the blue butterfly was kept

in a secret safe
in Dempsey's office.

It's very possible
we missed something.

We never really looked
down there.

Okay, Ryan, you see if you can
get ahold of the bookie.

- Castle and I will go back to the crime scene.
- Okay.

- Boy-o.
- Boy-o.

- Like a leprechaun.
- Castle.

Sorry.

- So the P.I.
- Tells Sally

that he found her sister
here at the Penny Baker club.

And did Sally go talk
to her sister?

Well, no. Joe could tell
that Sally,

being an innocent girl
from the country,

she was a little bit nervous
about dealing with mobsters,

so he offered to go back
and make contact with Vera.

Out of the goodness
of his heart, I'm sure.

Can you blame the guy?
I mean, she was gorgeous.

So anyway, Joe tells Sally
he's gonna go arrange a meeting.

Sally agreed, but again,
insisted that Joe not tell Vera

that she was looking for her

because of all the animosity
back home.

Ah. I was right.

I bet that's where he got
the steel rod,

which is probably what he used
to pry open the secret safe.

Hate to burst bubbles, Castle,

but this hasn't held anything
in years.

Looks like Stan
was disappointed.

Yeah, he probably would've been

if that was the secret safe.

That's not the secret safe?

Here's a fun fact...

people often kept two safes,

one that was easy to find
for minor valuables,

and a second safe
that was much harder to locate

for the extra specials,
like blue butterflies.

Castle,
where's the secret safe?

Coming to that.

So it's five days
since Joe and Vera met.

And they were
very much in love.

After only five days?
Come on.

Well, people didn't waste time
back in the '40s.

Matter of fact, they were
so much in love...

Well, they risked it all.

So what does that have to do
with our secret safe?

And it happened backstage...

Right upstairs.

They were stealing a moment together,

which was dangerous,
because she was Dempsey's girl.

As they stared into each other's eyes,
Kate's heart quickened.

Did you just say "Kate"?

Are you picturing
the P.I. as you

and me as the gangster's moll?

What? No.

And I didn't say "Kate."

I said "fate."
"Fate's heart quickened."

- I was being poetic.
- God.

Anyway, as I was saying,

they were just about to kiss
when...

Oye, chico!

Who's that?

Hey, boy-o.
You must be a slow learner.

There's my baby.

He's with you, miss Sinclair?

Yes,

and I don't appreciate you lugs

mopping the floor with him
the other night.

Not for nothin', but you need
to keep this on the hush-hush.

Dempsey's not too keen
about mixed laundry.

Well, then we'll just keep this
our little secret.

What do you say?

All right, fellas.

You better wise up, Vera.

Dempsey will have you butchered
if he finds out.

I mean, he's a hell of
a smoocher and all,

but, damn it, girl,

is this yum-yum
really worth it?

He's the cream in my coffee.

You two
are a walking fairy tale.

Good lord.

Come on.

Betsy's right, you know?

Dempsey will scrag us for sure
if he catches us turtle-doving.

You gotta get me
away from here, Joe,

away from Dempsey,
away from all of it.

Oh, yeah, and go where?
We can blow this town, sure.

Only how far are we gonna get
when we're both flat broke?

We're not broke, Joe.

We've got all the money
we need and more

around my neck.

All we gotta do
is take it away with us.

What, are you daffy?

You got at least two brunos
with you at all times

when you're wearing that thing.

It's funny.

Back when I was
a cigarette girl,

I'd watch Dempsey coming in
with his girlfriend

wearing this thing
around her neck,

and I wanted it.

Pretty soon, I was his girl
and I had it.

But it's not a necklace, Joe.
It's a diamond noose,

and it's getting harder
to breathe.

Then we gotta turn that noose
into a lifeline.

The question is, how?

When I'm not wearing it, Dempsey
keeps it in a secret safe,

and I know where it is.

And?

And...

That's it.

That was the last entry
in the diary.

What do you mean, that's it?
What happened to Joe?

- What happened to Vera?
- I don't know.

Well, why would you tell a story
when you don't know the ending?

If you wanted a beginning
and a middle and an end,

I have 27 novels
you can choose from.

Ugh.

Okay, so where is
this secret safe?

I don't know, but I think
Stan must have found it.

Maybe that's why
he needed that rod,

to pry open a wall
or something.

Castle, look at the molding.

What...

It's unlocked.

Stan found it.

That's why he was killed.

But by whom?

Ray Horton.

Assault, battery, and now
you're using a dry cleaners

to front
your bookmaking operation.

Whoa. Slow your roll.

A man on parole like myself

can't be mixed up
in bookmaking.

How about murder, ray?

Is it okay to get mixed up
in that?

Stan?

And who... who killed him?

Me?

Why would I kill
my business partner?

Your business partner?
Come on.

It's true, man.

One of my clients hooked us up.

He knew that I was looking
to diversify

and that Stan needed financing
to find this lost necklace.

Stan told me he needed
10 g's for expenses

and to buy this old
private detective's diary.

So I agreed to back him
for half the profits.

Well, if that's true, then why
did you threaten Stan's wife?

Because Stan was ducking me.
I thought I got played.

Then he came up to me
two days ago,

and he told me what was up.

He said he found the man
with the missing piece

of the puzzle
to the blue butterfly.

- And who's this man?
- I don't know.

But if Stan found
the blue butterfly,

that's probably who killed him.

So I traced the diary.

Stan did his research.

He purchased it
from the granddaughter

of Joe's old secretary,

a woman by the name
of Ruth Huntsacker.

So?

So I spoke
to Mrs. Huntsacker.

She said, she might still have
some of the p.I.'S old papers

and they might be able
to tell us what happened.

She's gonna have her son
look for them

and then call me back.

Look, Castle, I admit that
Joe and Vera's story is fun and romantic,

but whatever happened back in 1947
has nothing to do with who murdered Stan.

Uh... I'm not
so sure about that.

Our bookie alibied out.

But ballistics came in,
and we got a match.

The 38-caliber revolver that killed Stan was
used in an unsolved double homicide in 1947.

I knew there was a connection.

Who were the victims?

Uh, some lady named Vera Mulqueen
and a private detective named Joe Flynn.

Murdered.

That's too bad.

I really thought those two
crazy kids were gonna make it.

Yeah, not exactly the ending
I was hoping for.

I didn't even know ballistics
went back that far.

Oh, yeah. Since the '20s.

Being that it's an old case,

there's not much in the system.

The remains of Joe Flynn
and Vera Mulqueen

were found in Flynn's car.

It was parked in the alley
of the Penny Baker club.

Both victims were shot
with a.38 revolver

and the car was set on fire.

Only suspect was Tom Dempsey,

but there was never
enough evidence to arrest.

You know what? I bet you
Dempsey caught the two of them

trying to run away together,
and he killed them.

But how does Stan's killer

get Dempsey's gun
60 years later?

Unless...

Dempsey killed Stan.

He'd be, what, like 90 years
old, but it's still possible?

Couldn't have been Dempsey.

He died of a heart attack
four months after Joe and Vera were killed.

Still...

We should dig up that 1947
police report.

There could be
something in there about the gun

that could shed some light
on Stan's murder.

All right.
I'll go to the warehouse

and I'll pull up
the old case files.

Oh, oh, uh, I want to go.
- Uh, okay.

- Can I drive?
- I don't care.

Hey.

So...

I did a search of guns
Dempsey used to own.

Turns out there was
an estate sale

where a treasure hunter
named Clyde Belasco

bought all of Dempsey's
firearms, including 2.38s.

Wait. Clyde Belasco?

Stan's wife said that

the two of them watched
a documentary about him,

and that inspired Stan
to become a treasure hunter.

Well, the connections
don't stop there.

Belasco flew in from France
a week ago,

and I just found an article
that said

that he searched for
the blue butterfly for 15 years.

That bookie said
that Stan found someone

who had the missing piece
of the puzzle.

Well, maybe Belasco's
that someone.

Here it is.

This has been
dusted off recently.

Looks like we're not
the only ones

interested in this case.

Stan was here. Had to be.

Think about it... the diary,
the murders...

All we're doing is walking
in his footsteps.

This is the next piece
of the puzzle.

Huh. Crime scene photo
of Vera and the P.I.

Damn it, Joe.

You old sap.

Dizzy with a dame
and got yourself cooked.

So, Mr. Bogart, what exactly
are we looking for here?

Our 1947 murders
and our present-day murder

have to be connected
by more than just a gun.

Somewhere in here
is that connection.

Yes, I bought several
of Tom Dempsey's revolvers.

And by all means, test fire
every last one of them

as you wish.

We will. Now...
How do you know Stan?

You have to understand
that I'm on television.

Articles are written about me.

Because of this,
the amateurs come a-knocking.

It's an occupational hazard.

And what was the purpose
of Stan's visit?

Why, the blue butterfly,
of course.

He must have read of
my exploits searching for it

and decided to burden me
with his preposterous story.

And what story was that?

That he had found an old
private investigator's diary,

which held missing clues.

You didn't believe him?

Of course not.

When I asked to see
the alleged diary, he refused.

And yet, he wanted access

to all my research
on the Penny Baker club.

I mean, really,
the whole thing was absurd.

He even asked to exit
out the back door.

Said a car was following him.

It was a white mustang.

I guess someone else
was interested

in the blue butterfly, too.

It feels like we're looking
for a needle in a haystack,

except for, we can't find
the haystack.

Who needs a haystack
when the needle is right here?

This is a statement from Joe's
secretary Mrs. Kennard.

It was taken
right after his death.

"Mrs. Florence Kennard,

"secretary to the victim
Joe Flynn,

"attested to bearing witness
to the following conversation

between both victims on
the morning of June 24, 1947."

I've worked this
from every angle, doll.

There's no way we can crack
Dempsey's secret safe.

Well, then how are we
gonna get it?

Easy. You're gonna walk right
out the door with it tonight.

How?
It was hard enough

shaking Dempsey's hatchet men
this morning.

It's gonna be that much harder

when I'm wearing
the blue butterfly.

It'll be a cakewalk.
Trust me.

Especially with our friend
Jimmy Doyle helping us out.

- And who's Jimmy Doyle?
- He's a prizefighter,

and tonight he's taking on
sugar ray Robinson

for the welterweight title.

So?

So every clover-loving Irishman
worth his salt

will be huddled around
a radio tonight,

cheering good ol' Jimmy on.

You're gonna wait till
a rousing part of the fight.

Then you're gonna
excuse yourself.

Whoever's assigned
to be watching you

surely won't be paying
much attention.

That's when you
slip right out the back door,

where I'll be waiting for you.

Oh, Joe.

It's perfect.

No, it's crazy.

What are you thinkin',
Mr. Flynn?

And I can tell you,
this Jane's no good.

Now what are you on about?

Look at me. I'm a new man.
I'm a better man.

I haven't even had a drink
since I met Vera,

and if that's not a minor
miracle, I don't know what is.

You would be better off
with the booze

than with this chippy.

A- and what are you basing
a relationship on, huh,

a robbery and a lie?

What lie?

Well, I guess it's time
to come clean, huh?

Look, doll,

it's no coincidence I met you
in the club that night.

I was hired
to come find you, see?

Only I couldn't tell you who.

It's just...

Cut the corners, Joe.
Who hired you?

It was your sister.

Joe...

I don't have a sister.

- What happens next?
- I don't know. That's the end of the statement.

But if Sally wasn't
Vera's sister, then who was she?

Sally set up the P.I.

It's a classic film Noir twist.

- But why?
- I don't know.

- What was Sally up to?
- I don't know.

Do you think she was
connected to Dempsey?

I don't know,
but isn't this great?

Yo, Beckett.

Hey.

So our uniforms got a line
on that homeless guy

who was squatting
in the Penny Baker.

A hot dog vendor
I.D.'ed him.

Said the guy goes by the name
of west side Wally.

I put a want out on the guy.

Great. That might be the break
we need to catch Stan's killer.

Excuse me.

- Mm-hmm.
- Hello.

What?

When?

All right. I'm on my way.
Thank you.

That was the manager
of Stan's residency hotel.

A guy driving a white mustang

just forced his way into Stan's
room, and he's still there.

NYPD!
Show us your hands.

Show us your hands. Now!

Turn around slowly.

You're Tom Dempsey.

Yeah, that's me.

Tom Dempsey III.

Dead ringer.

Complete doppelganger.

It's D.N.A., guys.
It's not a magic trick.

I'm his grandson.

All right, look.

I'm sorry I broke in a door.

I'll pay for the damages.
It's no big deal.

Why am I still here?

Well, we were just curious
to see

if you inherited anything else
from your grandfather,

aside from his looks.

Yeah, like one of his
.38 revolvers that you used

to kill Stan banks.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
That didn't happen.

Look, Stan came to me,

only he told me his name
was Nathaniel Jenkins.

He said he was a biographer,

said he wanted to do a story
about my grandfather.

He promised not to focus
on his underworld dealings,

just on the... the good stuff,

like how my granddad
was a pillar of the community.

More like
a killer of the community.

And so when he made his pitch,

you, wanting to rehabilitate
your family name, cooperated.

Yeah.

I gave him access to
all of granddad's old papers,

and everything was cool...

Until I found out
the whole thing was a lie.

And how'd you do that?

There's this singer who used to
headline at my granddad's club...

Betsy Sinclair.

Couple weeks ago,
she passed away.

Well, I went there
to pay my respects,

and who do I see there
but Nathaniel,

chatting up this old guy.

He sees me, jets out the back.

I'm like, "what the hell
is this all about," right?

So I look in the guest book.

I figured it out.

He'd signed his real name...
Stan banks.

Which is when you figured out
he wasn't really a biographer.

He was just another
lowlife treasure hunter,

looking for the blue butterfly.

And if anybody deserved
the blue butterfly,

it was you, right?

So you followed Stan.

And when Stan found it,
you shot him.

No, I did not...
I did not shoot him.

Stan... wait.
Stan did find it?

Come on. You tell us.

I don't know.
I was not there.

I read in the newspaper
that the guy was dead.

I went to his apartment
to see what I could find.

And I didn't kill the guy.

So Dempsey's alibi holds up.

He didn't kill Stan.

Well, that's all right,
because we caught a break.

Unis finally tracked down
west side Wally.

They're bringing him in now.

Great. Maybe that
can shed some light

as to what happened to Stan.

And if he can't,
maybe Jerry Maddox can.

Jerry Maddox?

You remember how Tom III
told us that Stan

went to
Betsy Sinclair's funeral?

I started thinking,
why would he go?

To do research.

Right, but research on whom?

So I stopped by
the funeral parlor.

Turns out that Stan spent
an awful lot of time

with a friend of the deceased
named Jerry Maddox.

And get this...

Jerry was the old bartender
at the Penny Baker club,

and probably the last living
link to the blue butterfly.

Good job, Castle.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Jerry.

This is detective Beckett
and Mr. Castle.

They wanted a word.

Oh, yeah.

You want some soup?
It's homemade.

Oh, I don't mind if I do.
That smells delicious.

Uh, no, thank you. Actually,
we're... we're all right.

♪ Diamond bracelets ♪

♪ wool worth's doesn't sell ♪

Am I hearing "I can't give you
anything but love"?

That's right, kid.

That's the best version
of that tune, too.

You come here
to talk music, did you?

Actually, we're here to
investigate Stan bank's murder,

and we were wondering
if you met him

at Betsy Sinclair's funeral.

Yeah.
He... he was murdered?

- Mm-hmm.
- Poor kid.

Did he mention a necklace
called the blue butterfly?

Oh, sure. Asked me
all kinds of questions.

Uh, where it might be,
stuff like that,

but I was just a bartender
back then.

I- I wasn't much help.

Ah.

Now this might seem
an odd question,

but in 1947, do you remember
when Vera Mulqueen

and Joe Flynn were murdered?

Of course. It was
a big deal back then.

Dempsey, the fella
that owned the club,

shot them in cold blood.

The same year, do you remember
a woman named Sally Scofield?

She was a redhead.

In 1947,
she would've been about 18.

Oh, I think I know
who you're talking about.

Now that's back in '46.

I had just got hired
at the Penny Baker.

Cigarettes. Cigars.

Dempsey wasn't dating Vera back then.

He was going with a gal
named Priscilla Campbell.

Priscilla had a daughter,
a redhead named Sally.

Sounds like she's the one you mean.

Sad story, what happened.

Not long after Vera caught Dempsey's
eye,

he dropped Priscilla and cut
her and Sally off cold.

They said it was the curse
of the blue butterfly.

Priscilla killed herself
with a handful of pills.

And Sally?

Couple months after, uh,

Vera and that p.I.
Got whacked,

Dempsey died of a heart attack.

The evening of his funeral,

in walks Sally, all dressed up.

Ordered a whiskey neat,

slammed it back,

gave me
a big ol' crocodile grin,

said she was free.

Then she strutted
on out the door,

and that's the last time
I ever saw her.

It's a revenge story.

Sally blamed Vera
for the death of her mother,

so she plotted
to take her down.

Somehow she used
the P.I. to do it.

She must have been
setting them up.

Yeah, but how does any of this
help us figure out

who shot Stan?

So...

West side Wally.

May I call you Wally?

- I prefer west side.
- Of course.

West side, we know you were
at the Penny Baker club

two days ago.
- Yeah, we found your squat.

Whoa. Cagney and Lacey,
you can stop right there.

I wasn't living in the club
two days ago.

I had already gotten
bought out by the other guy.

- Bought out?
- By the other guy?

A few days ago,
the other guy comes in,

starts setting up
a squat by the bar,

but west side Wally
doesn't do neighbors.

So I said, "hey, professor,
kick rocks."

He wouldn't take no
for an answer.

Ended up paying me $400
to relocate.

So again, for the record
this time, I wasn't there.

Easy, easy, okay.
Did you get this guy's name?

I didn't ask.
He didn't say.

- Can you describe him?
- Medium height,

medium build, white, 50s.

I called him the professor

because he spoke like
a pretentious jerk.

Hey, it's the professor.

Clyde Belasco.

We know that you were
at the Penny Baker club,

Mr. Belasco.

You paid off a homeless man

so that you could
have the place to yourself.

I have a condo
on the upper east side,

a chateau in Bordeaux,

a chalet in GSTAAD, and yet,

on the word of some vagrant,

you believe that I paid to squat
in an abandoned building?

Me? Clyde Belasco?

Pretty much.

I'd like to see you
prove it, sir.

All right, have it
your way, professor.

We will see you
at the sentencing hearing.

You can do your TV show
from prison.

Wait.

Okay.

I was there. I admit it.

I was at the Penny Baker club
when Stan was killed.

But I didn't kill him.

Like I said before,
Stan came to me

and asked for my research

on the blue butterfly.

And you said no?

Of course I said no.

I searched for that necklace
for 15 years,

and now I'm just supposed
to help him?

The glory was to be mine.

But you knew he was
on to something, didn't you?

Oh, yes.

I could tell he was close,
so very close.

Stan knew things about the club,
about the necklace

that I had never heard before.

So you staked out the club,
and when Stan showed,

you shot him.

I didn't shoot him, detective.

Yes, I had a pistol with me and a bullwhip.

They're my trademarks.
Everyone knows that.

But I brought a mask
and gloves as well

because I was simply
going to threaten him

and take the prize.

So then what happened?

I was lying in wait.

Stan went downstairs,
and when he returned, he was...

Holding the blue butterfly.

Oh, you should've seen
how it sparkled.

Magnificent.

I was about to pounce
when suddenly there was

a- a rag put over my mouth.

It had a sweet smell,

like it was doused
with chloroform.

Chloroform?

Really?

It had to be.

Everything went dark,
and when I came to,

Stan was dead.

I searched his body,
but whoever knocked me out

took the blue butterfly
with them.

God, I hope it's him.

Yeah, but without a confession,

our case is
purely circumstantial.

I'm gonna see if I can get
a warrant for Belasco's place.

Which place, the condo,
the chateau, or the chalet?

Hi, yeah,
this is detective Kate Beckett,

12th precinct.

I'm calling
for the riding A.D.A.

Mm-hmm. Yeah.

Okay. I'll hold.

Well,
it's kind of disappointing.

I was really hoping that
solving Stan's murder

would give us some answers

to what really happened
to Joe and Vera.

Yeah, but what we already know
what really happened.

Dempsey killed them both.

Well, that's obvious version.
But what about Sally?

What's her part in all of this?

And...

Why would she hire Joe?

Well, I guess we'll never know.

No, something else
was going on.

Something we're missing.

"Wearing t-strap shoes
and a country suit,

I could tell that redhead
was a hick off the cob."

Wait. What did you
just say?

Well, that's just how Joe
described her in his diary.

No, the... the part
about the shoes?

T- strap. It's when the strap
comes over the...

yeah.
Can I just call you back?

Okay.

Take a look at this photo.

There's a shoe next to the car.

And look at what kind
of shoe it is.

That's a t-strap.

You don't think...

If Vera was at the club
that night,

she'd be dressed
in an elegant dress and...

And heels.
This isn't Vera.

This is Sally.

Yeah, but it can't be Sally.

The bartender said that he saw
her months after the murders.

- Unless... he lied.
- He lied.

But that was
over half a century ago.

Why would he lie about that?

- Beckett, I just realized something.
- Huh?

"I can't give you
anything but love."

W- what?

That's what was playing when we
interviewed the bartender.

Right. Right.

He said that that was
the best version of the song.

It was
Louis Armstrong's version.

In Joe's diary, he says his
favorite performer is Satchmo.

What's Satchmo's real name?

Louis Armstrong.

Put it all together,

the answer is clear.

Oh. Hello again.

Hello, Vera.

And hello, Joe.

Well, if it isn't Vera Mulqueen

and Joe Flynn,
back from the dead.

Everything all right, guys?

Everything's peachy.
Thanks, Frankie.

What happened?
Stan figured out the truth,

that you two were alive,

that you murdered two people

so you could disappear
with the blue butterfly?

So you lured him to the club
and then you shot him?

Lady, you got it all wrong.

Stan cornered me
at Betsy's funeral,

wanting to know how I knew her.

So I lied and told him
I was a bartender.

But Stan was clever.
He was too clever.

He figured us out.

He came here demanding to know
where the blue butterfly was.

He threatened to expose us.

He was like a dog after a bone.

So we told him
what he needed to know.

We told him where it was.

But we didn't kill him.

Oh, come on, you guys.

We know it's you.

You used the same gun from
the '47 murders to kill Stan.

Same gun? Oh, we keep
that gun in the...

the China cabinet drawer.

Don't even think about it.

Put the gun down.

Francis Benjamin Huntsacker,

what have you done?

Wait a minute.
Huntsacker?

It was your mother
who sold the diary to Stan.

What diary?

Your diary.

So you read it,

and all this time, you were
looking for the necklace, too.

That's why I got this crap job.

And for six months,
I slowly built trust,

gently acquired information.

And then that jerk
just waltzes in here

and bullies the location
of the blue butterfly from you?

Come on!

So when you realized
it was now or never,

you bushwhacked Stan,

took the blue butterfly
for yourself?

I brought their old.38
only as a precaution.

I was just gonna chloroform
Stan and steal it.

But you found Clyde Belasco
hiding behind the bar.

I pulled the gun,
Stan grabbed for it...

Look, I didn't mean to.

Let's go, Frankie.
You're under arrest.

Hey, Castle,
guess what we found

at Frankie's apartment.

Oh, my.

Oh, my God.

It's beautiful.

- It's fake.
- What?

We confirmed it
with an appraiser.

It's well-crafted
costume jewelry.

All this time, and it's paste?

That's...

Or maybe it's a twist
on a twist.

Maybe the real blue butterfly

was switched out for this one
years ago.

Well, whatever happened,
it doesn't change the facts.

We still have
one more case to close.

Okay, so now we know

that Frankie killed Stan,

but there are still two murders
that need to be solved...

Sally Campbell and whoever
else you put in that car.

It's time you come clean
on what happened

the evening of June 24, 1947,

the night you disappeared.

Tell them, Vera.

We were all huddled around
the, uh, radio, listening to

the sugar ray Robinson/
Jimmy Doyle prizefight, and, uh,

I was building up nerve
to make my escape.

Breaks up the clinch.

A slowly tiring Jimmy Doyle
throws a left, another left.

Here comes Robinson. A left.
A right. Another left...

Moxie, I need
to powder my nose.

Are you kidding me?
Can it wait?

No.

Ah, what do you say, boss?

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
make it quick.

Robinson regroups.

Robinson delivers a left,
a right, a left again.

Doyle punches back, but
missed him by a mile.

Well, aren't you a picture?

Who are you?

I'm with her.

Put 'em up.

The guy was Sally's husband.

She'd only hired Joe to get me away from
Dempsey

so she could exact her revenge.

Now you're gonna suffer,
Vera, like my mother suffered.

Wait, Sal. Let me get
the ice first.

No!

Lenny!

- Ugh!
- What are you doing?

Give me the gun!

Oh!

Oh! Joe!

We were hot as a pistol

and... and we had two bodies
on our hands,

and we had to do something.

And Joe...

Had the plan.

No one would be looking for those two.

We needed to disappear.

Obviously, we didn't

disappear far enough.

So...

Are you going to arrest us?

Why would I do that?

Sounds like self-defense.

Besides...

We're looking for a woman
named Vera,

not viola,

and a P.I. named Joe,

not a former bartender
named Jerry.

We don't know how to thank you.

I do.

Answer two questions.

One...

If you had the blue butterfly,
why didn't you take it?

And two...

Where has it been
all this time?

Well, we were home free
till doll face here

had herself an epiphany.

This thing really is cursed.

Vera, that's just fancy rocks
on a pretty rope.

No, it's more than that.

It's misery.
Joe, we can't.

I got no love for this thing,

just you.

But I'll be damned

if I let Dempsey
get his hands back on it.

Let the bastard
spend the rest of his life

not knowing his prize possession
is right under his nose.

Cursed or not, did you ever
consider going back for it?

They don't get it, Joe.

Mm. I...

We got four children,

seven grandchildren,

two great-grandchildren...

And each other.

Mm-hmm.

What do we need
a blue butterfly for?

Do you think we should've
told Joe and Vera

about the blue butterfly?

Oh, no.
Why ruin it for them?

No, that's the stuff
that dreams are made of.

Tell me you love me, Joe.

Always.