Elementary (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 5 - Ancient History - full transcript

What do you think?

Not your color.

Pretty sure this is the only color
that platypus skulls come in.

- I'll take it.
- I'll wrap it up for you.

Anyway, I told you, it's not for me,
it's for Sherlock.

- He's into stuff like this.
- Name a kid something like Sherlock,

you pretty much guarantee
he's gonna be into stuff like that.

Actually, his name is the least
odd thing about him.

I'm gonna have to introduce you
one of these days.

I'm hoping this little guy
will distract him for a while.

He's been bored.

No interesting murder cases
in the last couple of weeks.

- Oh, poor thing.
- Heh.

You know, if you guys are
really looking for something to do...

Yeah?

- Nothing. It's embarrassing, actually.
- What is it?

I was thinking about you last week,
and I was gonna call you, and I...

I'm trying to find a guy
that I lost track of.

Mm-hm.

- A one-night stand.
- Aah.

Jennifer Sayles. Ha, ha.

I met him after one of our girls' nights,
actually.

Do you remember like a year ago,
drinks in Midtown,

and you bailed early?

Well, I ended up at this little bar
on 42nd, and I met Tony.

Okay, does Tony have a last name?

Look, I know that
he's a photojournalist,

I know that he is amazing
and that we just clicked.

It wasn't just a drunken thing.
It wasn't, I'm telling you.

After the bar,
we went to a gallery opening,

and then we ended up
back at my place.

The whole night, it was just perfect.

It was like a movie.

Except he had a flight
first thing in the morning.

Some job in Paris
for a couple of months.

We didn't even exchange numbers.

Jen, I have to be honest.

I mean, if all you have is a first name,
I don't even know where I'd begin.

Anyway, this isn't the kind of thing
that Sherlock and I do.

Yeah, but you're great at this, right?

You're great at it, and, Joan, I swear,

I would never, ever ask you to help me
with something so mortifying

if I didn't think that this guy
might really be the one.

What you're describing is not a case,
it is a wild-goose chase.

Only at the end of a proper goose chase
you get to eat a delicious goose.

In this instance,
your friend gets to find out

that some sweaty Lothario
is not the man of her dreams.

Do you want to help me or not?

You're a consulting detective,
you are my partner.

The work you're describing
falls somewhere between

photographing philandering spouses
and finding a lost cat.

I urge you to have
some professional pride.

I do.

Okay, she's my friend,
and she asked me for my help.

Anyway, it's not like we have
anything better to work on.

We have cold cases,
dozens of them.

You have been looking at these
for days.

So far the only things you have solved
are the theft of a penny-farthing bicycle

and a nonfatal arson case
which is older than my father.

You have not left the house
in a week,

and you're beginning to smell
like old mimeographs.

Be that as it may,
I'm quite certain that we can do better

than helping your friend find
an MIA pickup artist.

How?

Sometimes, Watson,
when one wants a diamond,

one must resort
to digging in a diamond mine.

For future reference,
a morgue is not a diamond mine.

It's better.

Diamonds are just pressed coal,
corpses have stories, secrets.

You said you had an "in" here.

A certain deputy medical examiner who
can be relied upon to allow me access.

And he's okay with letting
a civilian waltz in here

to shop for a wrongful death
he might have missed because?

Because he's so competitive
it borders on illness.

Let me guess.
Somebody wants an ass-kicking?

First time for everything, I suppose.

This is Joan Watson, my partner.

This is Dr. Eugene Hawes,
my sparring partner.

- It's nice to meet you.
- You too.

Usual stakes?

My cash against your corpses.

Ponziani?

You think you can come in here
with that weak stuff?

Oh for 19,
I think it's time to call it a day.

I'm starving, and that is something
that should not be happening in here.

There's a vending machine
down the hall,

and at least a dozen more bodies,

so we have the makings
of a lovely evening.

Right, this is Leo Banin.

Killed when his motorcycle veered
across the yellow line

into an oncoming minivan.

The driver of that vehicle,
a Melissa Aguire,

was also killed.

Nope, there's no mystery there.

The head wound is the cause of death
and the reason we have helmet laws.

We have a case.

Sherlock, nobody killed this man.

No.

But the day he died,

he murdered someone else.

You know, we got a lot going on here.
We always do.

If you're looking for entertainment,

you don't need to go shopping
at the morgue.

I reviewed your open cases.
Sisyphean drudge work.

Nothing half as interesting
as what we have found.

A traffic fatality?

A professional hit man.

His driver's license identified him
as Leo Banin.

According to his obituary,
he was happily married,

a deacon at his church,
and an RN at a retirement home.

But before that, he was a member
of the Rukovskaya Bratva.

Note their distinctive
eight-pointed star.

Detective Bell was kind enough
to run Mr. Banin's fingerprints

through the international database.

Leo Banin started life
as Vitaly Andropov,

an assassin
for the Bratva's Polish outfit.

Interpol believes him responsible
for a string of gruesome killings

in the Warsaw Wesola district
dating back to 2005.

Later that year,
Leo Banin sprang into existence.

He began a quiet life
as a nurse in Queens,

got married shortly thereafter,
hasn't been heard from since.

Well, that makes sense.

When you get tired of killing people
in Warsaw,

you retire to a place
like Jackson Heights.

I don't believe he did retire.
At least not permanently.

These cuts on the side of his palms,

they are uniform,
a perfect matched pair.

He was wearing gloves
when he lost control of his motorcycle

and slammed into oncoming traffic.

I don't think that those are a result
of the crash.

I once apprehended a serial killer
in Kensington

who strung his guitar
with six different murder weapons.

He had scars on his hands
very similar to those.

Leo's wounds are raw.

I think he garroted someone
the day he died.

Well, not a bad bet, considering
that was his MO in Warsaw.

Oh, and now in New York.

Whoever he killed,
you think he did it on Bratva's orders?

- That's one possibility.
- There's just one problem.

Unless you have a garroted corpse
I'm not aware of,

you don't have a victim.

If you don't have a corpse
or a missing-persons report,

you don't have a case.

Which is precisely why we intend
to speak to the assassi-nurse's wife.

We're hoping she might be able
to cast some light on the situation.

Of course I knew the tattoo.

I knew he came here to get away
from an unhappy life in Poland.

A bad life.

I didn't know he...

I can't believe Leo was a killer.

Were you aware of his real name?
Vitaly.

His name, to me, was Leo.

That was his real name.

Can you think of anyone
that your husband may have

wanted to harm?

Someone he'd argued with?

You don't know my husband.

Talk to our neighbors, our friends.
He was a wonderful man.

An hour before the accident,

he called me to say he loved me.

Did he give you that necklace?

We met at church.

Whatever you say my husband was,
that was the past.

Finding God changed him.

I see he got a medical administration
degree a year ago.

It was our dream
to open a senior-care center.

He had partners to help.
We were finding investors.

This was his life.

Respectfully, Mrs. Banin,

your husband was a killer in Poland.

A few days ago, he killed again.

When the one that you love is revealed
to have a dark heart, it is...

Well, it's excruciating.

I speak from experience.

The shock will burn off.

And you'll feel

anger.

If there is anything
that you can tell us

about who your husband
may have killed,

helping us find that person,

that is an excellent way
to begin to repair yourself.

I'm sorry.

I cannot help.

This message is for Travis Hardwick.
This is Manny Tarkanian.

I have a huge renovation,
it needs to move fast.

I hear that
you're the best builder in Queens.

I'm gonna text you
my contact information. Please...

Please get in touch. Thank you.

Who is Manny Tarkanian,
and why does he have a lisp?

Childhood sledding accident.

But let's not get caught up
in the back-story of a passing alias.

The question you should be asking
is who is Travis Hardwick?

I don't need to ask.
You're gonna tell me anyway.

Let's begin with two givens.

Firstly, 76 percent of all murder victims
know their assailant.

We... As a species, we tend to be killed
by the people closest to us,

our friends, our spouses,
business associates.

Secondly, it certainly appears that
Mr. Banin née Andropov

has resigned his position
as a contract killer,

which makes it even more likely that
the victim is someone that he knew.

These are bereavement cards,
notes from floral arrangements.

You stole these from Lara's house?

Yes. I was hoping to ascertain
which of Leo's closest associates

had failed to send their condolences.

Luckily for us, in this case,

evidence of absence
is not absence of evidence.

Okay, well, if one of his friends didn't
send a card, it might mean they're dead.

But you don't even know
who his closest associates are.

We know some of them.

His partners
in the nursing-home venture,

all but one sent a note.

Travis Hardwick.

Says here that he is
a real-estate developer,

but his online CV strongly suggests
he is more of a small-time contractor

with very poor reviews.

At present, Mr. Hardwick is either
very difficult to reach or very dead.

Well, it is 11:00,

it could be that he may be asleep
rather than in a shallow grave.

I see. Locating this man
is obviously less important to you

than whatever plans
you have this evening.

Unlike you, I have an official case.
I'm gonna go to the bar

where Jen met that guy.
You're welcome to come.

No. Your friend would be better off
employing a gigolo

than a private detective.

She'd be amazed how cheaply a night
of anonymous abandon can be had.

Is she attractive? I might be able
to provide the service free of charge.

No?

- Can I get you something?
- Whiskey, neat.

Hey, the guy at the door said, um,
you've been working here the longest.

Only since birth. It's my dad's place.

What's up?

It's just a friend of mine met a guy here
about a year ago, so...

Oh, yeah, I think I remember him.
He likes alcoholic beverages, right?

Well, I was hoping
he might be a regular here.

His name is Tony.
He's a photojournalist.

Sorry.
Look, what's this all about, anyway?

It's nothing.

Just... It was a long shot.

Hey. Hey.

Um, this place must be pretty crazy
on Brazilian Day, huh?

What, are you kidding?

Little Brazil is pretty much
just this block,

so like half the parade ends up in here
every year, and it's madness.

Oh, yeah. Thanks.

Thanks. That's really helpful.

You can see Leo
followed Travis to his truck that day.

Your boss' truck,
does it have a LoJack?

I don't think so. What is it
you think happened to Travis?

We don't know that anything
happened to him.

We just wanna make sure he's okay.

Hey, I said you could come in and see
the tape, not go through his stuff.

If your boss is okay, I strongly
suspect that he will not notice

that his filing system
has been violated.

Unexpected three-day absence from
work. You think of calling the police?

Clients are in here every month
bitching about something.

The work's slow,
there's money missing, whatever.

Travis pisses a lot of people off.

Leo was really scary that day,
but Travis kept saying:

"It's under control, it's under control."

I didn't worry because
a little while later he sent me a text,

- said he was headed to Jersey.
- Jersey?

He has an uncle, lives out in Newark.

I figured he went to borrow
more money. It's happened before.

Well, I'm not so sure
that he sent that text.

Or that he even went to New Jersey.

"Pouring the concrete today."

Wait a second,
did you just read his lips?

The construction site
of Leo Banin's nursing-care facility.

Difficult to imagine a more ideal place
to dispose of a body

than the foundation of a building.

It's a shame, really.

The world will never know
what an elder-care facility

run by a former assassin
would look like.

There's Travis' truck.

If he did leave here,
he didn't use his own vehicle.

So if this is his final resting place,

I guess the question is,
where do we dig?

We?

Us.

The police.
Captain Gregson wants a body.

Hey, you know what?
This might be something.

The concrete over here
is a little darker.

Could be they were working
construction overnight.

Or it might mean that
Leo poured a fresh patch over here.

Maybe Travis is buried under it.

No, we're wrong.

Travis isn't here.

Travis, you're alive.

That's unfortunate.

I just wanna be clear here, okay?
You guys are not cops, right?

Oh, man.

I really thought you were cops.

I mean, the girls,
they definitely thought you were cops.

So you thought I was dead, huh?

We just need to know everything
you can tell us about Leo Banin,

and then you can resume
your activities.

Oh, yeah, right. Right, Leo.

You said he was dead.

Poor guy, huh?

How'd you guys know
I was in here, anyway?

Actually, it was a concert ticket.

You had a stub
in the cab of your truck.

The date and time suggested
that you survived your visit from Leo.

After the show, you returned
to the building site and haven't left.

And I know this because
there are no tracks behind your truck.

It rained that night, hasn't since.

Anyway, you've been here
snorting cocaine

and underwhelming a string
of affordable prostitutes ever since.

I wouldn't say underwhelming, pal.

Your secretary showed us a video

of Leo confronting you
outside of your office.

He seemed very angry.

Yeah, I just told him that his
nursing home was pretty much kaput.

We ran out of money.

You don't appear
to be completely out of money.

No, I was
until Leo pushed some on me.

I told him, 25 grand wasn't gonna
be enough to bail us out...

He gave you $25,000?

Yeah.
He said he went to a loan shark.

To tell you the truth,
I felt kind of bad taking it,

because it wasn't gonna
move the needle,

but, hey, dog's got to eat, right?

So I figure live it up on St. Leo's dime,
party till Chapter 11, baby.

Did he identify the loan shark
by name?

No. What are you doing?

We should leave this gentleman
to his after-party.

Hey, that's my money, pal.

Actually, this is Leo Banin's money.

That cocaine, however,
that's entirely yours.

"J-G93175..."

You wanna tell me why you're so sure
that this money was stolen?

I mean, I know that Travis said
it came from a loan shark, but...

Look at it, Watson.

What do you see?

All the bills look old.

I mean, maybe it's from the '90s?

Twenty-dollar bills
do not last in circulation

more than four or five years.

All of the money Leo gave to Travis
was at least 12 years old.

One old bill, that's a rarity.
A stack of old 20s from a loan shark?

Astronomically unlikely
to be of legitimate provenance.

You were right.

My friend at the Bureau says
these bills were flagged.

The cash you found was taken
in a bank robbery back in 2001.

Looks like the guys who did the job
are still locked up at Otisville,

but half the cash
was never recovered.

We have reason to believe it was
recently distributed by a loan shark.

Well, Russell Gertz was a name
that kept popping up.

Feds suspected the stolen cash
ended up with him.

Couldn't make a case.

Gertz is a moneylender,
used to run a book.

Collared twice, never indicted.

Mr. Gertz is a cautious man.

Waited over a decade before putting
his dirty tender out on the street.

Or maybe Leo garroted him
and took it.

You have an address
for this Mr. Gertz?

Not a current one.

He's got a judgment against him
for unpaid parking summonses.

City marshals can't find the guy.

It's official, I am superior in every way
to the New York City Marshals.

You figured out where to find Gertz.

His sister Ida owns a nail salon
in Bushwick.

Somehow the business has managed
to survive for over 20 years,

despite being located
in a heavily industrial part of town.

Not another beauty-related business
in a ten-block radius.

- Well, sounds like a front.
- Indeed.

- What's that?
- I was able to get a little traction

on the thing
I was helping my friend with.

The case of the century?

Yeah. I mean, she met the guy
over Labor Day weekend,

on the day
of the Brazilian Day parade.

Okay, the place she met him
is like the heart of Little Brazil.

- It would've been wild that night...
- So you thought the local news

might have footage
from the bar that evening.

Well, you know, they love
all that stuff, celebrations and parades.

Okay. So I called Channel 3
and I asked around,

and sure enough,
they have B-roll from that night.

If I'm lucky, Jen and her mystery man
are gonna be on it.

I'm sorry, I cannot indulge
this trifle any longer.

We have a real case.

Russell Gertz's nail salon
cum loan-sharking lair awaits.

And I will be there in a minute.

It was me.

I slept with your friend.
Ravaged, actually.

I'm Tony. I'm on that tape.

She has a beauty mark here,
she has size 6 feet,

she bites her nails
and thankfully nothing else.

Sherlock.

- Sherlock.
- It was a year ago.

You had only recently taken up
residence here

as my sober companion.

On those rare occasions
that you would allow me a few hours

unchaperoned time,

I followed you.

Usually you went jogging
or to the store.

It was not a riveting surveillance detail,
I assure you.

But on one of those occasions,
I saw you with Jennifer.

Having gleaned little about you
to this point,

I saw an opportunity. Hmm?

I waited until you'd gone,
then I approached,

as Tony from Long Island,

with the intention of steering
the conversation towards you.

- We didn't end up discussing you...
- You seduced her.

Actually, it was she
who initiated our dalliance.

She's an aggressive and,
I may say, limber woman, your friend.

It was good.

Evidently, not as memorable for me...

Okay. Enough, enough.
I don't even know where to begin.

I mean, I guess we could start with
the major betrayal of trust

that you just sort of breezed past.

- You used to follow me?
- It was not a breach of trust.

We did not have this yet.
You were new.

In order to allow you
into my confidence,

I needed to get a sense of you.

Once I was satisfied your intentions
were sincere, I stopped.

I have not violated
your privacy since. Hmm?

And I

apologize.

I was wasting my time,
and you knew it.

You could've just told me what you'd
done when I told you about the case.

Okay, and you know what?
Apologizing to me isn't gonna fix this.

There may be a dead loan shark
waiting for us in a Bushwick nail salon,

so perhaps a solution will present itself
on the way there.

Alive. Again.

Why can't anyone be dead today?

Mr. Gertz.

My name is Sherlock Holmes.
This is Dr. Joan Watson.

We are consulting detectives
for the N.Y.P.D.

Okay.

That's an ugly bruising on your arm.

No ligature marks.

I thought perhaps he'd survived
an attack from Leo Banin.

But you were accosted
by someone else.

- Leo who?
- You know Leo.

You loaned him $25,000.

Sorry. I don't know
what you're talking about.

You wanna ask me some questions,

you're gonna have to go back
and get some real cops.

Uh-huh. Well, you want us to do that
so you can empty out your autoclave.

Strangely, it's unplugged.

Stranger still,
it's been fitted with a padlock.

I didn't realize that emery boards
and nail clippers were so valuable.

Is that where you keep the money

that you bought from that bank job
back in 2001?

Or you smart enough
to keep it someplace more remote?

Got a deal for you, Mr. Gertz.

Tell us everything you know
about Leo Banin,

and I will not alert
the various sundry authorities

who might be interested
in your whereabouts.

Leo, uh,

he took care of my mom
before she passed.

He worked at the home.

He was a bit preachy, but a nice guy,

at least until he learned what I did,
and then, of course, I was the devil.

And yet he came to you for a loan.

He needed 50 grand to put
the nursing home back on track.

He had no collateral,
so I gave him 25 grand on the arm.

On account of the fact
that he was nice to my mom.

Now you know what I know.

Well, I disagree.

We still don't know
how you sustained those wounds.

I fell.

I have vertigo.

Ah.

Why don't you go and get
a piece of pen and paper,

so you can make some notes,

so you can keep your story straight
for when you're in custody?

All right, all right.
Just hold on, hold on, hold on.

A couple days after Leo showed up,

I got a visit from a guy named
Grigori Andrev.

He's Bratva.

The Russian mob was here?

Grigori knew
that I had loaned Leo money.

Don't ask me how.

You deal off the books,
it's like a small town,

and he wanted me to help him
track Leo down for him.

I didn't think it was such a nice thing

to put the Russian mob
on one of my clients.

So you resisted,
and he threatened to break your arm.

Turns out I didn't have anything
more than what he already knew.

He knew Leo's home address,
his phone, everything.

I got my arm mangled
for absolutely nothing.

That's the whole story.

You ain't gonna tell the cops,
are you?

You are gonna keep your word,
aren't you?

Sherlock Holmes for Detective Bell.

I don't have a problem
with you violating that creep's trust,

but I would have thought you'd
at least given him a running start.

I'm not calling about him,
I'm calling about Leo Banin.

Gertz just told us
that the Rukovskaya Bratva

came here cracking heads,
looking for Leo.

A few hours later, he was dead.

Even if you do believe in coincidences,
that one strains credulity, does it not?

Why would the Bratva wanna kill
one of their own?

He wasn't one of their own,
hadn't been for quite some time.

Well, coincidence or not,

Leo's motorcycle crash
was ruled an accident.

- It's time we looked at that crash site.
- Taxi.

And this time,
we should get some proper help.

Hope you got something good,

dragging half the precinct out here.

Apparently,
Leo's old friends in the Bratva

found out
he was hiding in New York.

Pretty sure they chose this spot
for an unhappy reunion.

Found a couple of these,
just over there.

The tobacco is an admixture
most commonly found

in counterfeit cigarettes
produced in Moscow.

Whoever smoked these
left more than just cigarettes.

These are from a.45.

We talked to a loan shark
that Leo borrowed money from.

He told us that a Bratva soldier
by the name of "Grigori Andrev"

came looking for him. We think
he was the one who left these.

There are some motorcycle tracks
over there

which indicate Leo Banin
left the scene in a hurry.

You would too,
if Grigori Andrev was shooting at you.

What the hell was Leo Banin doing
way out here?

We're not sure yet,
but the headline is,

the crash that killed him and the driver
of the other vehicle was no accident.

The highway patrol, they
didn't conduct a search this far back.

There was no apparent reason to.
So they missed these casings.

They also missed the bullets lodged
in the telegraph pole

and fence over there.

Now, the shots must have caused
Leo Banin to swerve into a minivan,

killing someone.

You know how the Bratva
like to rotate their players after a job.

We put the BOLO for Andrev out wide,
tristate and Chicago.

Wanted on suspicion
of two wrongful deaths?

Yeah, Leo Banin and a Melissa Aguire,
the other driver.

Hey, I got something.

Grigori Andrev.

He's the one Leo strangled.

I guess you can cancel this.

Last time I checked,
dead men couldn't pull triggers.

So if he didn't shoot at Leo Banin,
who did?

It's a little loud. No?

Studies have consistently shown
that changes in one's surroundings,

background noise, even the angle
from which materials are viewed,

can result in fresh insights.

That was background noise
to you, huh?

Were you able to reach
the Warsaw police?

Yes.

And I got a pretty good idea why

Vitaly Andropov changed his name
to Leo Banin

and left Poland in 2005.

He stole 100,000 zlotys
from his Bratvian buddies.

That's about 30 grand American,
give or take.

Well, perhaps his past caught up
with him the other day.

Anything from ballistics of note?

Not exactly what we were hoping for.

Those.45-caliber slugs
taken from the scene

match perfectly to bullets that we
pulled out of a RICO witness last year.

The guy was about to testify
against the Russians.

Rumor had it that
Grigori Andrev was the triggerman.

He was not the shooter
on this occasion.

Unless you think he was doing target
practice before Banin garroted him.

No. The shots caused the crash,

so they must have been fired
after Andrev's strangulation

as Leo fled the scene.

Some third party must have
picked up the weapon

and fired at Leo's motorcycle
as it sped away.

Shots went wide, but they caused him
to swerve and crash.

Is Joan up to speed on all this?

She's gone with Detective Bell
to visit the good widow Banin

and explain the true circumstances
of her husband's death.

So the man whose body you found,
you believe he was trying to hurt Leo?

Him and a partner, yeah.

We have reason to believe that they
were part of the same organization

your husband used to work for.

The idea that Leo killed someone
right before...

It's been so hard to live with.

I tried to pray for his soul, but...

Your partner turned out to be right.

I couldn't forgive Leo
for abandoning our faith.

But now you say it was self-defense.

It's a relief.

Dr. Hawes, anything to report?

The garrote wound
is exactly as thick as the cuts

on Leo Banin's hands.

Wire from earphone buds,
if I had to guess.

And?

The initial toxicology report
came back.

It's interesting.

The deceased was on
a carefully managed mixture

of anti-anxiety and heart meds.

Thing is, you don't just take a handful
of Fluoxetine and a few ACE inhibitors

And hope for the best.

These are medications that can only
coexist in a delicate balance.

Are you saying that Mr. Andrev
must have had a psychiatrist?

Figured you might wanna
track him or her down,

see if they know any of the names
of the people he worked with.

Any luck, maybe you'll even
find your shooter.

Sorry, Dr. Glassman is still on a call.

He may be a while.

He understands we are part
of a police investigation, right...?

Dr. Glassman's office.

Are you sure this is the doctor

that wrote the Fluoxetine scrip
for Grigori Andrev?

Captain Gregson sent men
to Andrev's home.

I'm told that Dr. Glassman's name
was clearly legible on his pill bottles.

I'm supposed to meet Jen.
I'm gonna have to reschedule now.

- You spoke to her?
- About you? No.

This is not the kind of news
you break over the phone.

He may have died, you know.

Tony.

Knowing him,
it was something quite heroic.

Excuse me. I'm sorry,

but Dr. Glassman has an appointment
with a patient in five minutes.

Maybe you could come back
in an hour?

No, I'm afraid I cannot.

- I will be dead by then.
- What?

I've been feeling a bit down.
Thinking of taking my life posthaste.

Miss Watson here
is beside herself about it.

Does that window open?

I'm required by law
to take you back to see the doctor

if you make a threat like that.

But you already knew that,
didn't you?

Mr. Holmes, is it?

You're a police consultant?

Mm.
This is my partner, Joan Watson,

and I'm pleased to say she's just
successfully treated my depression.

Oh, that's wonderful news.

That means that you can leave now.

I apologize for lying,
but time is of the essence.

We're in pursuit of a member
of a dangerous criminal syndicate,

the Rukovskaya Bratva.

You treated one of them,
Grigori Andrev.

You're smart enough to know

that threatening suicide
would get you in here.

You're certainly smart enough to know
that doctor-patient confidentiality

prevents me from discussing...

Any living patients. Yes, we know.

But this one is dead.

Strangled by a male nurse
he was attempting to assassinate.

What?

Surely you're well acquainted

with Mr. Andrev's sociopathy.

You must've half expected
this day to come.

Dr. Glassman,
we know that you treated him.

Your name is on the Fluoxetine scrip.

You have an obligation
to waive privilege

when there is legitimate concern
about a client's criminal activity.

I'm sorry. I, uh...

I didn't wanna treat Grigori.

He just showed up one day
and said he had problems.

When I realized what he was
and who he worked for,

I was just too afraid to cut ties.

He was very careful
about what he said.

He didn't discuss any of the particulars
about his work.

But there was one name
that just came up multiple times.

Marko Zubkov.

I gathered that he was Grigori's
right-hand for certain

jobs.

- You guys squared away around back?
10-4.

We're just questioning the guy, right?
Is all of this really necessary?

Well, you saw his sheet.

Extortion, racketeering,
three unsolved disappearances.

Marko Zubkov deserves
the full treatment.

He's what we call a "bad guy."

I don't know why you're complaining.
You make it work.

Sasha Zubkov?
N.Y.P.D. We're here for Marko.

Marko. You look cozy.

Can I see that hand?

What is this?

It's a murder investigation.
A man you knew as Vitaly Andropov.

Where were you three nights ago?

Sunday night? I'd rather not relive it.

You're gonna have to.

If not here, then at the station.

Impossible.

The doctors say
I'm not supposed to walk.

- What doctors?
- The ones who operated on me.

You wanted to know
where I was Sunday night?

I was in the hospital.

Because Saturday night
I was mugged by a guy with a knife.

I lunged for the bastard,
he stabbed me twice.

If you don't believe me,
please call the hospital. They'll tell you.

I was there the whole time.

- How did it go at the hospital?
- Well, Zubkov's story checks out.

Three nights ago,
he limped into the ER

with two stab wounds to his leg and
a tourniquet tied just below his groin

to stop some serious bleeding
from his femoral.

Claims he was mugged.

- What about the police report?
- There was not much to it.

Cops who came took a statement
and a couple of pictures of the wound.

Zubkov didn't check out
until last night.

How's it going here?

There are over 70 men
with Bratva ties

in the N.Y.P.D.'s
photo manager system.

Those are only the ones
who've been arrested.

The real number of Bratva men
in the tristate area

would be difficult to approximate.

The man who shot at Leo
the night of his deadly accident

might not even be here.

Okay, that is depressing enough
for me.

I'm gonna go to bed.

You given any more thought
to the dead-Tony idea?

Okay, that is not an idea.
That is just another lie.

While I detest nothing more
than willful ignorance,

I have come to believe
that in certain matters,

ignorance bestowed can be a gift.

Your friend Jan,
she seemed like a nice person.

She deserves neither shame
nor heartbreak.

Okay, first of all,
her name is Jen, not Jan.

And regarding shame
and heartbreak,

you should have thought of that
a year ago.

You're certain someone
with Zubkov's injuries

couldn't have snuck out of the hospital
for a few hours?

Not without bleeding again,
and not without being seen.

Wouldn't be the first person

to sneak undetected from a hospital.
I've done it myself.

Yeah. Well, you have never had
injuries like that.

Hmm.

- This is the tourniquet?
- Yeah.

Probably saved his life.

We've been operating
under a misconception.

I think it's possible
the attack on Leo

was not the first attempt the Bratva
made on his life, but the second.

If I'm right,

I may also know
who shot at him that night.

Thank you for waiting. I know
you've been here for quite a while.

I owe you more than patience.

Your officers have been
very kind to me.

They said you had some questions.

We do.

Right.

Is this

a man?

- Obviously it is a man.
- Good.

Does he have a nose?

Yes.

Excellent.

I don't understand. Who was that?

Why did you show me his picture?

Come on, you know Marko Zubkov.

You saved his life
when he tried to kill your husband.

Do you recognize that?

It's the tourniquet you tied around
Marko's leg after Leo stabbed it.

You know how we know?
Because of the fabric.

It's the same as the drapes
in your living room.

We'd been wondering

how the Bratva found Leo
after so many years in hiding.

Turns out the answer
was right in front of us.

You told them where he was.

You let Mr. Zubkov into your home
before you left the other day,

so he could lie in wait.

This was Saturday,
before the accident.

Only Leo turned out to be
quite formidable, didn't he?

He was much more
than Mr. Zubkov could handle,

Even with the element of surprise.

Leo fought him off,
stabbed him in the leg, and fled.

You came home,
expecting to find a dead husband.

Instead, you find a mobster
bleeding to death on your floor.

The tourniquet you rigged up from
your drapes saved his life, so congrats.

You told us your husband called you
shortly before he died,

only it wasn't to tell you
that he loved you.

It was to tell you that
he'd been attacked, it wasn't safe,

and to meet him in Far Rockaway.

So you hatched a plan
with Grigori Andrev.

He would get there first, lie in wait,
you would meet with Leo,

you distract him,
so that Andrev could attack him.

Must have shocked you
to see your husband in action,

dispensing with Andrev.

Shocked and scared you, because
now he knows that you're in on it.

So you don't have a choice.

As Leo flees,

you picked up Andrev's gun.

You missed, but the shots fired
were enough to cause the crash

and kill an innocent woman.

This is an outrage.

I loved my husband.

That man out there,
I've never seen him before in my life.

Right. So you won't mind that he just
saw you looking at a picture of him,

nodding in the affirmative
to questions posed by the police.

Why are you doing this to me?

Why do you try to get me in trouble?

The reason we had you waiting
so long this morning

is because we needed time
to search your home.

We got a warrant.

We found the evidence
for the attack on your husband.

Bullet holes in your wall
and bloodstains on your carpet.

You covered the bullet holes up
with pictures,

but the bloodstains, you missed a bit.

No. If what you say is true,
there was an attack,

these men, these mobsters,
they cleaned it.

Oh, I'm sorry, they hung new stuff
on your walls and you didn't notice?

You can either keep lying to us,
or you give us Zubkov.

You don't, we're gonna let you both go,
and we're just gonna build our case.

You can take your chances
with the Bratva on the outside.

Leo had his secrets.

But I knew enough. I forgave.

That's what we are taught to do.

But not him.

He couldn't forgive when he found out
what brought me to the Church.

I needed money when I was young.

I did

movies.

To pay to come to America. I had to.

One of his friends,
he saw these films,

and then

it was over.

Leo asked me for a divorce.

We put every penny into
that nursing home,

and now he's going to leave?

And I will have nothing?

No.

I knew there was a price
on his head,

so I made the call.

- Hi.
- Hey.

Sherlock told me everything.

He came to see you?

Earlier today.

He apologized,
and he made it very clear

that you had no idea what he'd done
until the other day.

I was really impressed, by the way,

the way you tracked him down,
finding that footage.

Jen, I know that you thought
he was the one, but I'm telling you...

No, no, no, Joan, it's okay. Seriously.

I appreciate you getting
to the bottom of it, but I...

I have closure now.

It happened again.

- You slept with him.
- What?

- No.
- Yes. You are such a terrible liar.

Okay, I guess this is what I get,
being friends with a detective.

He just was so sweet
about everything.

And making sure that things
were right between you and me,

- and telling the truth...
- And getting in your pants.

Actually, I came onto him.

But here's the good news.

Now I know it was totally superficial.

That guy is completely
out of my system.

Well, you were right, Watson.

Honesty, unquestionably
the best policy.

I just want you to know
I think it's really great,

you doing what you did today for Jen,
so she can finally have a baby.

I don't think I've ever seen her
so happy.

She did tell you she was ovulating,
right?

I almost had you.

Yes, almost.