Elementary (2012–…): Season 7, Episode 5 - Into the Woods - full transcript

Previously on Elementary...

I did it.

Mr. Meers, to be clear,

you're confessing
to killing Tim Bledsoe.

Tim Bledsoe was going to
blow up the Bridgeport ferry

the day after you shot him.

I'm sorry, I-I don't know
what you're talking about.

Patrick Meers
was not acting alone.

Someone, or some group,
were pulling his strings.

Please. My family's inside.

You're protecting someone.

I wish I could help you, Joan.

That video game.

Is that how you
talk to them?

I need you
to be brave now.

Can you be brave?

Ten years ago, my company wasn't
quite where it is today.

We weren't the destination
for e-mail,

search and social media for
500 million people worldwide.

We were just a tiny start-up.

In a sweaty office in San Jose.

2433 Piedmont Street, Suite 3.

I can still smell it.

And then, one day,
Suite 2 becomes available.

It's bigger, it's nicer,
has more windows.

So, we decide to make the move.

Trouble is,
that means a new address.

New letterhead, new envelopes,
business cards.

We have to reach out
to the post office,

to our clients, our suppliers.

Late one night, the janitor
hears us talking about this

and he says, "Why don't
you just switch the numbers

on the doors?"

And that, folks,
is the principle

on which Odker was built.

Simple solutions
for complicated problems.

That's how a website that
launched in an office park

became a multinational empire.

Leonardo da Vinci said it best.

"Simplicity is the ultimate
sophistication."

Tommyrot.

What are you wearing?

That man
is a legitimate genius.

He's diminishing his
intellectual sophistication

for the sake of
a cocktail party anecdote.

It's just naked pandering.

It's a Tech Symposium,

not a doctoral defense,
and he's one of the most

successful people on the planet,
so obviously,

he's doing something right.

Why are you interested in him?

Because, apparently,
he is interested in me.

Do you remember
that gun buyback program

you started in my name
before I left New York?

Of course, why?

He just made a huge donation.

How huge?

Let's just say that

the program should be
in his name now.

The money came
with an invitation.

He wants to meet tomorrow,

so I thought
I'd get a handle on him.

Oh, my napalm is done curing.

Good luck with
your new suitor.

It's not every day
one attracts the fancy

of the eighth richest man
in America.

Uh, try not to burn
the house down.

Hello, Mr. 246.

Is there a Mrs. 246?

Hmm, pass.

I couldn't date a guy who
has nicer legs than I do.

Oh, my God.

Where's Isabel?

I thought we would
have seen her by now.

I know she was trying to
finish in under two hours.

- Oh.
- I guess it's tougher out there

than she would have thought.
- Hmm.

- There she is!
- Oh...

You got this!

God, she looks awful.

We would, too, after ten
miles of trail running

and obstacle courses.

Come on, girl!

- You're so close!
- Go, go, go, go, go!

What-what's happening?
Why is she stopping?

I don't know.

Oh, my God.

Is she still breathing?
I don't know.

♪ Elementary 7x05 ♪
Into the Woodst
Original Air Date on June 20, 2019

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Her name is Isabel Perez,
she's 27.

Was 27.

We were roommates.

Can you think of anyone who
would have wanted to hurt her?

Isabel worked in admissions
at this ritzy private school

in Tribeca, Saint Mark's.

She always took a lot of flak
when rejection letters came out.

Angry parents.

She'd get these
insane voice mails.

There were a few threats.

She ever report them?

I don't know.
I don't think so.

I'll check with the school;
they might have kept track.

If you think of anything else,
you call this number, okay?

I have to go walk
the course now.

We have to find where
Isabel was attacked

if we're gonna find
the person who did this.

You have any friends here,
someone to drive you home?

Yeah.

All right.

U-Um, Detective.

There is no course.

Sorry?

This is an adventure race.

It means there's no set route.

There's a bunch of checkpoints
all over the forest.

The runners all start together,
but then they can

go to the checkpoints
in whatever order they want,

as long as they
get to all of them

before they reach
the finish line.

You're telling me every inch of
this forest is fair game?

I think I heard
it's something like 3,000 acres.

Finding out where Isabel
was attacked could take days.

Happened in
the Southwest corner

of the park near the edge
of Richmond Pond.

You gonna tell me how you know

where this girl was stabbed
or am I supposed to guess?

I examined Miss Perez's body

while you were talking
to her friend.

There was a smear of marsh mud
on her left leg.

There was mud
all over her body.

Yeah, but most of that mud
had dried.

The marsh mud above her
left ankle was still damp.

Okay.

There are several bodies
of water in the Greenbelt,

but only one of them is
surrounded by marshland.

Richmond Pond.

Given that the marsh mud was
the freshest muck on her body...

We can assume the
area around the pond

is where the attack went down.

Yeah.

She had a six-inch blade
in her back.

She couldn't have made it far
in that condition.

I'm not sure how likely
it is we'll find

the exact scene of
the stabbing, but...

Who knows, maybe we'll
find a creepy shack

with a door
off its hinges.

Yeah. Maybe.

Got metal pots, copper coiling,
propane tanks.

Looks like a bootleg
distillery to me.

What's left of one, anyway.

Well, it's certainly
a crime scene, but...

I don't think it was
where Isabel was stabbed.

No?

No.

There's two distinct sets
of footprints.

But neither
one of them is

small enough to be hers.

I doubt she was ever in here.

Then I wonder
whose blood that is.

Someone else's.

The knife in her back
pierced only muscle.

Didn't sever any major arteries;
that's why she was able

to escape and make it
to the finish line

before succumbing to her wounds.

This spatter is more
consistent with...

a shooting.

Judging by the amount of blood,
I'd say a fatal one.

So, someone gets shot here
making moonshine or whatever,

Isabel runs by
during the race...

Becomes a witness

that the killer feels compelled
to deal with.

But he
doesn't shoot her.

He stabs her.
That make sense to you?

I think we have to identify
the first victim

before we've got a chance
at solving anything.

Well, we have to find them
before we can identify them.

Dredge the pond and you will.

These marks were made
when the shooting victim

was dragged out of here.

The heels of his
shoes made them

before he was
dumped in the water.

Looks like he
was weighed down

with some big rocks.

I can see where
they used to be.

I'll get the
scuba team out here.

From search to social media

to scientific research,

Odker is more
than just a company.

Odker is your solution.

Ms. Watson?

You should get going.

No, I don't understand.
I had an appointment.

- Mm-hmm?
- Am I at the wrong office?

Is this the online
search office

and I'm supposed to be at
the social media headquarters?

Oh, no, there's no confusion.

Odin's expecting you offsite.
Clark will drive you.

Drive me where?

Ah, Ms. Watson.

Thank you so much
for coming out.

It's my pleasure.

Sorry about the field trip.

It's just the only time I
get any bandwidth these days

is during my archery
and I didn't want to miss

the opportunity to meet.

Bow and arrow.

That's pretty lo-fi
for a high tech guy.

Exactly. It's primal.

It settles the mind.

Some place for it.

I made a donation to
the Parks Department last year

and this is their way
of saying thank you, I guess.

They gave you a park?

Oh, for-for one hour a day.

I really am grateful.

I mean, the money
that you put into

the buyback program
is gonna go a long way.

I'll confess,
I'm a little skeptical

about the gun buyback
initiative.

Not the goal, of course.
Just the efficacy of it.

Jury's out, I'd say.

So, the donation you made was
just to find out if they work?

No, it was to buy
an introduction.

And maybe earn
a small favor.

I, uh, I have a problem.

It's well below your
pay grade, I'm sure,

but I'm told that you and
your partner are the best.

I'd be in your debt if you
could make time to help.

Last week, my sister
received a couple of letters.

Someone threatened
to kidnap her daughter

if we didn't pay up.

At first, I thought this was
some kind of cruel prank.

I mean, normally you have
to actually kidnap someone

before you demand a ransom,

but then these showed up.

Is this your niece?

Abigail. She's 16.

Whoever sent this knows
where she hangs out,

who her friends are.

I want you and your partner
to find out who sent this.

I have to ask: Why us?

I'm sure you have
people on your staff

who can handle this.

Yes, I do have good
people on the payroll,

but that's the problem--

You see, I think these
threats came from someone

who works for me.

What makes you think that?

One of the letters
referenced

Abigail going to
an equestrian camp.

Thing is, she's
never been to one.

I was thinking of surprising
her for her birthday,

and I mentioned it at a company
dinner a couple of weeks ago.

The only people
that knew

I was thinking of
sending her to that camp

are the Odker employees
who were there that night.

And my head of security
is one of them.

So you need an outsider.

My niece is in
real danger.

Her mother's a wreck.
I won't rest easy

until this is settled.

Can you help me?

How did it go with your
billionaire admirer?

Our billionaire admirer.

It turns out

he knows all about us,
and he wants to use us

to look into kidnapping threats

against his niece.

So these are the
letters that he got.

- What did you say?
- I said yes.

I mean, after the check

he gave our foundation,
this is sort of

the least we could do, no?
I loathe that expression.

The least one could do
is always nothing.

Abigail's family tree

makes her an easy target
for lowlifes and miscreants.

Any threat against her is more
likely a haphazard shakedown

than a legitimate risk.

It hardly seems worthy
of our time.

You seriously
don't want to help?

I'd like to know
why you do.

And before you say the donation,
it was certainly generous, yes,

but the whole reason
it's called charity

is because it requires
no recompense.

Well, I think a relationship
with Odin could be a good thing.

And before you say it,
I am not talking about sex.

I was gonna say it.

I'm thinking about our work.

I mean, the guy is sitting
on the most extensive trove

of private user data
in the world.

I mean, you don't
think that would be

a nice resource for a
couple of detectives?

How do you suggest we proceed?

He's gonna let us
into his offices late tonight.

He thinks the threats are coming
from someone inside Odker.

With a little luck

and access
to everyone's computers,

we should be able
to find out who.

Were the divers successful?

Twice as successful
as we thought they'd be.

They found two bodies.

Want to meet me at the morgue?

Meet John Doe.
Late 40s. Gunshot victim.

Water damage makes it hard
to nail down

exactly when it happened,
but I'm guessing

sometime early this morning.

Well, there's
not much tissue damage

around the entry wound.

Must have been

from a small caliber round.

Fired from something weak.

How about a single-shot
Remington derringer?

Scuba team found it in the
pond next to the bodies.

Only holds one shot.

One shot. All guns should be
Remington derringers.

A relic from the 19th century;
won't be easy to trace.

I'm hoping we have
better luck with him.

They're running his fingerprints
and dental records--

if they're in the system, we'll
have his name in a few hours.

Any luck IDing
the second victim?

Actually, yeah.

According to his collar,
his name is Truffles.

I'm confused. Are you saying

the person that killed this man

also killed this pig?

Hog, actually.

And I had doubts myself
until I saw photos

of the recovery operation.

Both bodies were weighed down
the same way.

Same rope. Same knots.

Same heavy rocks from
the edge of the pond.

Any bullet holes in it?

Nope.

So his demise wasn't
caused by the derringer.

How did it die?

Working on it.
Uh, we're a little outside

my area of expertise.

Mine, too.

But you and I have dissected

enough animal cadavers

in medical school.

Dilated pupils like this
in a mammal could mean

that it was fed
something toxic.

Already sent
a blood sample

to the lab.

Say you're right.

Why would someone want
to poison a hog?

And why hide its body?

So, a man in a forest,

and his hog,

both killed
at the same time.

Unless we're looking
at the fallout

from the world's most
nauseating love triangle,

we have three victims,

two murder weapons...

And zero motive.

We got an ID on the man
they pulled from the pond.

His name was Reginald Henderson.

He went by "Renny."
He was a bartender in Brooklyn.

We're pretty sure that he owned
the illegal distillery

that Marcus
and Sherlock found.

He had an old arrest
for selling moonshine.

That's why his prints
were in the system.

This his pig?

Hog.

But yes.
They found this photo

in the shack.

Killing the guy's pet...

Man, that just seems...
mean-spirited.

Sherlock and I
don't think

it was done out of spite.

We think it was part
of a larger plot.

CSU found trace amounts of ricin

in some of the broken equipment

in the shack.

The lab confirmed
that it was

the same toxin
that killed Truffles.

The hog.

If this adds up
to a larger plot,

I'm not seeing it.

We got a runner with
a knife in her back,

a dead bootlegger
and a poisoned animal.

What am I missing?

I think the key

is the order
in which they died.

So first it was Truffles,

then the bootlegger,

and then the runner.

It all started when Renny

started making ricin
in his distillery.

You think
he's the one

who made the stuff
that killed his pet?

He had the expertise
and the equipment.

And it's easy to extract toxins

from castor beans if you're
used to making alcohol.

Now, the question is,

was he forced to make it, or...

was he working with the killer
before he died?

Either way, the killer tests
the stuff out on Truffles.

Probably at gunpoint.

When he sees it works,
he shoots Renny.

And that's when Isabel Perez
jogs by, catches him in the act.

He only had one round

in his gun,
and he had already fired it.

So he attacks her with a knife.

Why the weird old gun?

Probably because he had a record
and couldn't buy a gun legally,

so he used a family heirloom.

We looking at Renny's friends
and associates?

Turns out
he had a fight

with his boss at the bar
he worked at a month ago.

Marcus is already
on his way there.

Excuse me.

Yo, bartender.

In a minute.

I need to talk to your boss,
Bo Willoughby.

Can you get him for me?

Sorry, Bo's not here.

He called in earlier,
said he was taking a trip.

Kind of a last-minute thing.

Three weeks ago,

Bo got into a fight with another
one of the bartenders here,

Renny Henderson.

- You know what it was about?
- Yeah.

They'd both been drinking.

They got a little annoyed
with each other.

It was nothing.

I'm not so sure
about that.

Renny's the reason I'm here.

He was murdered this morning.

What?

That's why I need
to know more

about the fight
he had with Bo.

You want me
to shut this place down?

Wouldn't be a problem.

I didn't really know Renny.

We weren't friends
or anything.

But I know he had a side
business making moonshine.

It was good stuff.
Bo would let him sell it here,

and they would share
the profits.

Artisanal moonshine?

That day that they fought,
Renny was ticked.

He said Bo was taking
too big a cut.

They started swinging,
the next thing you know,

the customers
are calling the cops.

They stay mad,
or was it settled?

Bo fired Renny.

Renny said Bo had
better watch his back.

That was the last time
I saw Renny.

You need anything else?

Yeah. Bo's number.

I just heard from Marcus.

Looks like Renny's boss
could be our guy.

His name is Bo Willoughby.

He's putting out
a Finest Message.

What is that?

I mean, I can see
it's a wine bottle.

Yeah, the, uh, floor
of Renny's shack

was covered in glass.

I was studying a
crime scene photograph,

and I noticed that some shards
in the corner really stood out.

I sifted those chunks
out of the rest of the pile

that CSU collected,
and I could see why.

They're older.
Decades older, in fact.

So it's an antique wine bottle?

Mm-hmm. Well,
most of one.

The section where the
label would be is missing,

hence the modeling clay.

So the killer took
the label. Why?

Well, I'm hoping
that's a question...

we'll be able
to ask him ourselves.

- You found a print?
- Yeah.

I can already tell
from the swirl pattern

that it's not Renny Henderson's.

You said Marcus believes
Bo Willoughby is a suspect.

Well, he would have
given his fingerprints

when he applied
for a liquor license.

So I'll tell Marcus
he needs to procure

Bo's application for comparison.

In the meantime,
you and I are due at Odker.

Joan, thanks so much for coming.

- You must be Sherlock.
- Yes.

I understand we're here
to find a quisling in your organization.

Probably one of my guys
in the coding lab.

I was toasting them
when I made the comments

that showed up
in those threat letters.

If not, you can check
my head of security.

He's up in the C-suite. Sims.

Name's on the door.
Probably best

to be gone by 4:00.

We have early
risers here.

You're not staying?

Oh. No.

My autobiography says
that the secret of my success

is "a dedicated spirit"--
truth is,

that just tested well
in focus groups.

My real secret is
eight hours' sleep,

every night, no excuses.

You do what you have to here.

Whatever it takes

to keep Abigail safe.

All right, we'll call you

in the morning with an update.

Not too early.

Good luck.

So, Matthew Yang

is using pirated software
to cheat at online chess,

and he illegally downloaded
the last Sharknado movie.

Other than that,
he's clean.

I'm ready to call it.
We've looked at everyone.

I think we go to Odin,

and we tell him that we need
to look at the waitstaff

at the restaurant where he
talked about his niece,

because I don't think
anyone here

where he works is
behind the threats.

You might be incorrect.

When did you find all this?

While you were watching
Sharknado.

These are poker chips
from an illicit cardroom

or casino, judging
by the poor quality.

The occupant of this desk,

Blake Tofel,
is swimming in debt.

Oh.

He's also written
a lot of big checks,

and none of them
have his name on it.

Now, what is Cashew LTD?

It appears to be an "S" corp

that Mr. Tofel uses to hide his
illicit gambling from the IRS.

Oh, there is a recent debit here
for 75 grand.

I mean,
I know Odker pays well, but...

Exactly. This book appears
to tell the story

of a man
with a gambling addiction.

I don't imagine
there's anything in there

about him threatening
his boss's niece

and demanding a ransom.

No, but we both know

that addiction
can be like an organism.

It can fight
to stay alive.

Easy to imagine
that if he ran out of money,

he might go to great lengths
to get some more.

I'm not ready to go to
Mr. Tofel's employer yet,

but I think he's worth
a closer look.

Marcus!

Hey.
Sorry to bother you so early.

Nonsense. Watson and I are
bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

We ran the fingerprint you found
on that antique wine bottle

and got a match, but it's not
the one we were expecting.

In fact, I think
the whole investigation

is moving in a new direction.

It wasn't Bo Willoughby's?

No. He's innocent.

We caught up with him up
at a bachelor party

late last night on Long Island.

He told us
he'd been there all weekend.

He can prove as much?

Six different ways.

He didn't kill anyone.

Not yesterday morning, anyway.

But the print you found,

that's our new angle. Belongs
to a guy named Todd Harris.

He's a wine dealer. Sells
high-end stuff all over town,

including
to Bo Willoughby's bar.

It stands to reason he would've
known Renny Henderson.

How did Mr. Harris
run afoul of the law?

Why are his prints
in the system?

He was arrested for
assault when he was 18.

Broke the victim's arm
in two places.

Well, sounds like someone who
would kill two people and a hog.

Where is he now?

Hard to say. None of his clients
have seen him in two days,

but he's about to hear
from the NYPD.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Mr. Harris, open up.
This is the police.

We'd like to talk with you.

Something's wrong.

Mr. Harris. Police.

Anybody home?

Mr. Harris?

We've got movement down here.

Police! Don't move.

Oh, man.

This is Major Case to
Central. I need a bus

at 589 Sumpter Avenue
in Brooklyn.

I have a male, mid-40s,

victim of an apparent
gunshot wound to the neck.

Put a rush on it, Central.
This guy's lost a lot of blood.

Mr. Harris?

I'm Detective Bell. This is
my colleague, Joan Watson.

We're with the NYPD.

Your doctor told us
that you were shot in the mouth.

The bullet broke your mandible
and exited through your neck.

You're lucky to be alive.

We know your jaw's
been wired shut,

but we brought this to help you
answer some questions.

You can just type,

and the program
will do the talking for you.

You saved my life.

Thank you.

I'm just glad we
found you when we did.

You lost a lot of blood.

And look,

if you're not up to this,
we can come back later.

No. I want to help.

Tell us what happened.

I was in bed. Tuesday.

There was a sound.
Someone in the house.

Before I even got up,

there was a shape,
a man, over me.

He hit me. I got knocked out.

So you never saw his face?

I woke up a few minutes later.

He tied me up, blindfolded.

We were in the basement.

I could hear him
looking through my wine racks.

He was mad.
He couldn't find what he wanted.

He talked to you?

Yes, but I didn't know
his voice.

I didn't know who he was.

He wanted my Baptiste.

Is that a wine?

Chateau Baptiste.
It's French merlot.

He wanted my Baptiste '57.

He started yelling.
"Where is it?"

I told him I had three bottles
in a locked cabinet.

We saw those
cabinets down there.

Is that where you
keep the good stuff?

Looks like he left
everything else in there.

So that was
the only wine he wanted?

Yes.

He took it
and put a gun in my mouth.

When he shot,
I thought I was dead.

I don't know when I woke up,
but he was gone.

I was still tied up.

Everything hurt.

It was torture.
But then you found me.

I can't thank you enough.

Don't thank us yet.
We still need to find this guy.

And we will.

Got to think that
that guy was shot

by the same person

who killed Renny Henderson
and Isabel Perez.

Ballistics already confirmed
that the bullet

that came out of his neck
was fired

from a Remington derringer.

Thing is, if he got robbed
on Tuesday night,

that means he was
the first victim.

The other two got killed
the next morning.

The antique bottle that
Sherlock put together,

it has to be the same bottle

that the killer stole, right?

I mean, he wanted to lace it
with the ricin that Renny made.

That's why he took the label
with him when he fled.

He didn't want
anyone catching on.

Question is, why did it have
to be Chateau Baptiste '57?

Why not one of Harris's
other bottles?

Think I should put it out
to the media, ask them to alert

all the bars and restaurants
in the city.

They need to hold off
on serving any of the stuff

until we figure this out.

No telling where
the poisoned bottles

might pop up,
so better safe than sorry.

I don't think they're gonna
pop up just anywhere.

I think I know exactly
who the killer wants to poison.

I'll get a location on this guy.

We can go alert him together.

I'll let Sherlock know.

Watson, excellent timing.
I have news.

So do I. I'm at the hospital
with Marcus right now.

If you don't mind, I'm
in the middle of burglarizing

- a criminal's lair, so...
- What?

Where are you?

Banking associate
of mine who traced

Tofel's accounts
found rent payments

for a walk-up in Tribeca.

And you thought it'd be
a good idea to break in there?

Well, no, I thought
I would find evidence

that Tofel authored the letters
threatening Odin's niece,

but instead I found a private
cardroom that he maintains.

That's where
the poker chips came from.

It seems he's less
degenerate gambler

and more poker host.

So there's nothing
to connect him to the letters?

No. In fact, I no longer think

he had anything to do with it.

It seems that his side business
is doing quite well.

He's actually up on the year.

That sort of blows our motive.

The man writes

dynamic programming algorithms
for Odker.

We shouldn't be surprised
that blackjack

hasn't proven so vexing
as to bankrupt him.

We'll have to go back
to the drawing board.

Well, we'll have to break
the bad news to Odin later.

Right now we have to ruin
a different rich guy's day.

You ever heard of Jason Wood?

No.

Well, he's the chief investment
officer at Grant Capital,

and I believe he is the target

of this ricin wine plot.

It's got to be one
of these Occupy people, right?

None of them can stand the fact

that someone else
has worked hard

and has more than they do.

H-Hon, slow down.

No one's said a word yet about
who wants to kill me or why.

To be honest, Mrs. Wood,

we're not ready to speculate
about motive at all.

Then why are you so
sure Jason's at risk?

Because we already know the
murder weapon they want to use.

It's a bottle
of Chateau Baptiste '57.

- That's my favorite wine.
- We know.

In fact, anyone
who's searched you

or Chateau Baptiste
online knows.

"For years,
Mr. Wood has snapped up

"every bottle of Baptiste '57

"that's come up for auction
in New York.

"And while other collectors

"stash their prizes
in the cellar,

the banking superstar confesses
he drinks every bottle."

Whoever wants you dead,

we're thinking they read this
and a light bulb went off.

Someone's out there
poisoning Baptiste?

With ricin.

It's cost two people
their lives so far.

Another man was shot
through the neck.

The killer seems hell-bent
on getting a poisoned bottle

of that particular vintage
in front of you.

Do you have any idea
who that might be?

I mean, I help run

one of the biggest hedge funds
in the world.

People wanting me dead, it
kind of comes with the job.

Nobody stands out?

I get at least one death threat
every quarter.

Two or three if we kick off

a merger that leads to
labor force contractions.

You mean, when you cost
thousands of people

their jobs?

You haven't bought
any Chateau Baptiste recently, have you?

No.

But I was planning on it.

There's a wine auction
in Chelsea tonight.

Corinna and I were gonna
pick up a few bottles.

I guess that's out. We
can nix the babysitter.

On the contrary.

We'd very much appreciate it
if the two of you

would be our guests
this evening.

I know Kevlar isn't
a breathable fabric,

but if you could stop adjusting
yourself, that'd be great.

I can't believe
I agreed to this.

I can't believe
you suggested it.

Relax. Tonight's lot

was checked and secured by
the auction house two weeks ago.

Now, if this guy's plan
is gonna work,

he's gonna have to slip his
bottles into the mix tonight.

But if you're not here...
we'll miss our chance.

I don't see anyone
over there.

We're the only ones even going
near the Baptiste lot.

No one's even bidding.

Stop looking.
Just give him privacy

so he can slip in
his poisoned bottles.

Once he makes his move,
the police will jump on it.

Keith, you got eyes
on the target?

We got a little group
crowding our view

of Lot 49.

Give me the signal
if you see action.

You know,
in my line of work,

we try to minimize
risk and exposure.

That's exactly

why we're here.

To get the guy who wants
you dead off the street.

Minimize your risk.

They why do I feel

like I have a giant
bull's-eye on my chest?

Even if you did,

the chances are he
wouldn't be able to hit it.

We think he disposed of
his only weapon in a pond.

Not to mention the fact
that he's gone to great lengths

not to shoot you.

It suggests
the appeal

of this little
scheme is anonymity.

Wait. Wh-What do you mean?

He means that the killer
probably doesn't think

he can shoot you
and get away with it.

Poisoning wine that you like,
on the other hand,

wine that anyone here tonight
could have bought,

it would have seemed
more random.

It would have made it
more difficult

for police to identify him.

It also affords
him time to get away.

By the time you're choking
to death on your own vomit,

he could be
on another continent.

Anyone ever tell you two

your bedside
manner sucks?

Just look for people
you recognize.

Employees.
Corporate rivals.

Any threats at all.

Hey.

- Oh.
- What's going on?

Looks like we lost the signal
from the cameras.

We got to see the floor, man.

How long will it take
to get them back?

I got to do this
one at a time.

This venue's not a bank,
you know?

This is just a temporary setup
for this event.

We're wireless here.

Well, if we can't turn
all the cameras back on

at the same time, how did they
all go off at the same time?

Well, the rest of the power's
still on, so, uh...

I don't know, signal jammer?

Radio check.
Someone say "copy."

Damn it.

It is a jammer.

What is it?

When we arrived here this
evening, I made small marks

on the labels of the bottles
of Baptiste '57.

When we passed by three minutes ago,
everything was as I had left it.

Now two of the bottles
are missing their marks.

He must have made
the switch. How did...

Hey.
We have a problem.

All the cameras are down,
and somebody jammed the signal.

It's because they were
ready to make the switch.

Just a moment ago.

He's still got to be here.

I mean, this space is huge,

and with this crowd,
he can't just sprint for the exit.

Please lock the room down, now.

We need to keep him
here with us.

You want me to risk
spooking the killer

and then trap him in here
with a hundred people?

Do you want
to catch him or not?

Keith! Seal the exit.

Ladies and gentlemen,
I'm Detective Marcus Bell,

NYPD.
Sorry to ruin your evening,

but this is a police matter--
I need you all to remain calm.

This room just became
a crime scene.

Signal jammer that knocked
out the security cameras,

it was in a potted plant.

Killer smuggled it in,

flipped it on when he
was ready to make the swap.

Did CSU find any prints?

No. They're not optimistic
we'll be able to pull one

off the poisoned bottles
he planted, either.

Any luck with the guests?

An impressive cross section
of Manhattan's elite.

I reckon half of them
are capable of homicide.

Nobody jumps out for the murders
we've been looking into?

Jason and Corinna said they
don't recognize anyone here.

Then we got nothing.
We have to let these people go.

I'm convinced the killer
is in this room with us.

You might be right...

- Might?
- I'm aware of your track record,

but knowing he's here
and proving it

are two different things.

The folks in this room
have half

the New York Bar Association
on retainer.

I can't detain them indefinitely

until we can tie someone
to the crime.

Sorry.

Wait.

It's him.

I know you.

You're the bartender,
Colby, right?

Didn't recognize you
without the beard and the hat.

What are you doing here?

I like wine.
Is that a crime?

No. But murder, conspiracy
and animal cruelty are.

The knots on his shoes,
they're figure eight packer's knots.

Rarely seen outside
the meat industry.

Your father a butcher?

They're identical
to the knots used

to tie rocks
to Renny Henderson and his hog

to make him sink
in Richmond Pond.

They look like the bindings

that were around
Todd Harris's hands, too.

You might as well
have signed your crimes.

Come on.

You think I'm a criminal
because of my shoelaces?

Actually, mate,
knot forensics have been used

to identify the culprits
in many cases,

all of them
prosecuted successfully,

as I'm certain yours will be.

So, this fella,

he breaks into
Todd Harris's home,

steals his wine,
shoots him,

takes the bottles
to Renny Henderson.

Forces him
to make ricin,

tests it on Renny's pig,
which kills the pig.

He kills Renny, too.

Then he kills
Isabel Perez

to cover it up
just so he could fail

to poison his actual target.

He had a busy week.

Someone should
have told this idiot

there are simpler ways
to kill a man.

Maybe not if you're hoping
to get away with it.

His plan wasn't complicated;
it was deliberately designed

to obscure his involvement.

He would inevitably be
the prime suspect

in any direct attack
on the Woods.

Why is that?

Because he's been obsessed

with Corinna Wood
for a long time.

Ever since high school, in fact.

They grew up in
Montana together,

and he followed her to New York.

He was arrested for stalking her.
He served five years

for that and an unrelated
weapons charge.

You were right--
that's why he

couldn't get his hands
on a decent weapon.

While he was inside,

he read that Corinna
had got married,

and that outraged him.

She was his
and his alone.

But how was he gonna get rid
of her interloping spouse?

Inspiration struck

when he found out
that Corinna's new husband

had a taste
for Chateau Baptiste '57.

Well, if the wife knew the guy,

how come she didn't
recognize him at the auction?

Because the last time she saw
him, he was 200 pounds heavier.

He lost all the
weight in prison.

Always inspiring
to see a convict

using their time productively.

Perhaps this
time around,

he'll write
the Great American Novel.

I suppose he'll have

the rest of his life
to figure it out.

"When an archer misses
the center of the target,

"he turns around

and looks for the cause of
his failure within himself."

I like Confucius
as much as the next guy,

but sometimes the wind blows.

If you have
a moment,

we'd like to discuss the matter
of your niece, Mr. Reichenbach.

Oh, you can call me Odin.
All my friends do.

I haven't decided
if we're going to be friends.

We came to tell you

that Abigail is safe.

Well, that is a relief.

So... who sent
the kidnapping threats?

There is no kidnapping
threat. Never was.

Watson and I vetted
every Odker employee

on the list of suspects
that you gave us.

None of them sent
any letters.

We visited your
sister this morning--

we told her that we hit a wall
and asked her if she could think

of anyone close to her that
might have sent the threats.

Maybe they didn't come
from inside Odker after all.

She had no idea what
we were talking about.

Said she never
received any threats.

You sent us

on a wild goose chase;
we'd like to know why.

It was a test.

You passed.

Our renown as detectives

is the reason you hired
us in the first place.

So testing our skills is
completely unnecessary.

It wasn't your skills
I was testing.

It was the two of you.

I told you my niece
was in danger,

and you did everything
in your power to help her.

Everything.
Whether it was legal or not.

You don't know
what steps we took.

I do.

You solicited an illegal search
of my employee's bank records.

You broke into his home.

You broke more
than a dozen laws.

Don't worry, you've
nothing to fear from me.

Right now, I'm on your side.

I'd do anything to protect
an innocent person.

It's an impulse

I think we share with someone
you've apprehended recently.

Patrick Meers.

We were looking for the people
he was working for.

You're one of
them, aren't you?

You've been laboring
under the misconception

that Patrick is
some sort of terrorist.

That's not true. In fact,
I'd call him a patriot.

The world could use
more people like him.

In fact,
I'd like to think

I'm looking
at two of them right now.

Our friend was shot
and almost killed,

and you just admitted
you were behind it.

I didn't tell Patrick Meers
to kill your captain.

He made a mess.

He made his own decisions
about cleaning it up

and I am very sorry for it.

Sorry enough to admit your involvement
to the NYPD?

All I did

was tell Patrick what I'd
learned about Tim Bledsoe.

I had reason to believe
that an army veteran

with his psychological makeup

would take steps to avoid
a tragedy, and he did.

What happened next was
also tragic, but...

...I am a practical man,

and 200 lives were saved.

I'd like to talk about that.

We speak with murderers on a
regular basis, Mr. Reichenbach.

Do you imagine any of them

convinced us of
their righteousness?

Perhaps you
should consider

the possibility
that I am not the kind of man

you deal with
on a regular basis.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man