I present to you
the human condition in all its sordid glory.
It's a bunch of guys in a cell.
We have a finite number of Friday nights in our lives.
Why are we spending one of them here?
Because it's Friday night.
This is when the holding cells are at their busiest.
You have before you
a gilded opportunity
to sharpen your deductive prowess.
Each one of these men,
whether they realize it or not,
is telling you the story of how he came to be here.
It's written in their bearing, on their clothing.
So, look at the guy and then tell you what they did.
There's like 20 people in here.
You find that intimidating?
Plaid shirt, very nervous,
obviously never been in jail before.
Keeps fiddling with his wedding ring,
feeling guilty about something,
probably the hooker he picked up earlier.
Popped collar--
drunk and disorderly.
That one's a layup.
Tattoo guy is, uh...
Would you like a hint? No.
His crime involves a litter of purebred Yorkshire terriers.
I said I don't want a hint.
This could take a while.
I'm gonna get a coffee.
Do you want? No.
Hey.
Can you do me next?
Got to warn you, if you hit "latte""
you're not going to recognize what comes out.
I just got a coffee, thanks.
I'm Craig Basken. I work a lot of nights.
Oh. Joan Watson.
You're one of the, uh, the consultants, right?
Yeah.
You work, uh, with the guy with the socks.
Listen, um, I know you guys work the stuff
that Captain Gregson calls you in on,
but I caught this string of robberies in the West Village.
Uh, someone's knocking over falafel carts,
and it's not the crime of the century
and it shouldn't be that hard to clear.
But you're stuck.
Yeah, so...
I thought maybe I'd, uh, I'd hit you up,
get another perspective.
I hope that's not too much to ask.
No, no, it's not a problem.
Sherlock and I would be happy to take a look.
I said hi to that guy once, and, uh,
h-he said that I interrupted his train of thought.
He, uh, called me a bell-end,
so I was thinking maybe you could have a look-- just you.
Um, sure, yeah.
Great.
I'll just, uh, grab the case file.
Okay.
Hi, honey.
It's your mom.
I'm calling again.
Just wondering if you're gonna call me back
before the end of the semester.
I hope you're having a great time.
I love you.
Where is your husband?
My, my husband-- I, I don't know.
Where is he?
911. What's your emergency?
Yes, a man broke into my house.
He was armed.
I shot him. There's blood.
Is he still there, ma'am?
Are you safe?
I think he's gone.
Okay, he said that he came for my husband.
You have to make sure that he's okay.
Where is your husband now?
He's working, I think.
He's with the 11th Precinct.
Your husband's a police officer?
He's the captain there.
His name's Tommy Gregson.
♪ Elementary 2x06 ♪ An Unnatural Arrangement Original Air Date on October 31, 2013
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
♪
She's back in the kitchen, Captain.
You're okay.
Are you okay?
Yeah. Yeah.
I was working out in the garage when I heard the gun go off.
All right, I'm gonna need you to walk me
through everything you remember.
Is the captain all right? Holmes, yeah, he's fine.
He's inside with his wife. I'm giving 'em a minute.
Hey, I said I'm giving 'em a minute.
All right.
This is Jim Monroe-- he lives across the street,
got a quick look at our guy.
James Monroe?
Yes, like the fifth president.
My dad was reading his biography when I was born.
Anyway, I heard the shots.
I saw a guy wearing a mask come running out.
He was halfway down the street by the time I got over here.
Can you describe him?
He took his mask off while he was running,
but he was almost a hundred feet away.
His back was to me. He had dark hair.
Wish I could tell you more.
Sorry to interrupt your doctrine.
You know there's blood
on the car over here?
Yeah, Cheryl said she hit the guy.
Doesn't look like he lost much blood.
He could run, so maybe she just grazed him.
Bell,
she's ready to talk.
Just seemed like it happened so fast.
He was already inside
when I came home, and I...
I don't even know how he got in.
You didn't have the alarm on?
He had this mask on.
I can describe it to a composite artist.
He had a Glock handgun--
a 21, I think.
He was about six-two, maybe 170 pounds,
and I would definitely recognize his voice if I heard it again.
Now, before tonight, had either of you two noticed
anything odd-- cars you didn't recognize,
anyone who seemed unusually interested in the captain?
You?
No.
But I'm not living here at the moment.
For how long?
For about a month.
Mrs. Gregson, your mother just got here.
Okay.
Now, look, my wife's the victim here, I'm the target,
so obviously I can't run point on this case,
so let me be clear: I'm not running point when I tell you
I want a rush on the prints and the serology.
If this guy's got a vendetta against a cop,
there's a good chance he's in the system.
Captain.
It hardly needs saying, but Watson and I will devote
our full attention to this matter.
We might need access to your files,
personal and professional.
There's a good chance we'll need
to examine your life in minute detail.
You don't tend to shed much light on your private affairs,
so... comfortable with that?
Whatever you need.
Just help Marcus find this guy.
Did you know that Captain Gregson
turned down a promotion that would have made him
the youngest detective in the NYPD?
He didn't want to work for Internal Affairs.
He is also,
judging by his e-mails, surprisingly tolerant
of forwarded videos of mischievous kittens.
He never talks about any of these things.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I mean,
none of us even knew he was separated
until tonight. I knew.
Had my suspicions, anyway.
He's been arriving earlier in the morning,
leaving later, stopped bringing home-packed lunches.
Well, if you knew, then why didn't you say something to him?
Well, why would I?
His work hasn't suffered.
If anything, he's been slightly more focused.
Quite frankly, I'm surprised it's taken this long
for the captain's marriage to buckle.
He's an excellent detective.
What does that have to do with it?
Well, as you know, detection is a calling, not a job.
Hardly leaves one with time left over
to sustain the elaborate ruse of marriage.
Because, of course, you think marriage
is an elaborate ruse.
There are other ways to describe it.
An unnatural arrangement which forces its participants
into an unhealthy monogamy.
An accretion of petty fights and resentful compromises
which, like Chinese water torture,
slowly transforms both parties
into howling, neurotic versions of their former selves.
Yeah.
So, anyway, I found about 20 cases so far
with perps that fit the description
that Mrs. Gregson gave us.
So, I'll keep sifting through,
if you want to take a look at them.
Mmm, not necessary. I was fairly certain
that listing the captain's enemies
via reviewing his casework
was a fool's errand.
Now I'm all but positive.
The kind of criminal
the captain pursues tends to be
intelligent-- the sort of person who knows
that attacking a policeman is very bad business indeed.
I believe that we are hunting for a different class of person.
Someone driven by sound and fury.
An idiot.
Someone like, for example, Dustin Bishop.
There was little of interest in the captain's in-box,
so I took the time to sift through his...
spam filter.
Now, Mr. Bishop has been sending the captain...
fan letters, I suppose you'd call them,
for quite some time now.
They get more intimate with the passage of time.
More disturbing.
"Hey, buddy, can I still call you buddy
"even though you never write back?
"I don't know what your problem is,
but I know I'm getting upset."
This guy sounds like a stalker.
Mmm. Looks like just the sort of person
to catch a bullet during a botched home invasion.
Don't you think?
Good morning, sir.
Morning.
Hello, Captain.
- Morning. - Hi, sir.
Hey. Morning, Captain.
Hello.
Please tell me you have some actual work to talk about.
Yeah. We just heard back from Latent Prints.
All the prints on Cheryl's car were hers.
Perp must've had gloves on. We did get a good
DNA sample from the blood, but there was no match in CODIS.
I know, not what we hoped for,
but I got a detail together,
and Holmes and Watson are off running down
some Holmes-and- Watson thing, so...
Mmm. And I just wanted to say I'm...
I'm sorry about you and Cheryl.
Thanks.
What else? I caught this case, so I have to be
the one to ask-- you sure there's no way
the separation's connected to what happened last night?
Come on.
It's a trial separation.
It's... it's no big deal.
Kids are gone from home now,
and everything feels a little different.
Anyway, Cheryl wants some time alone;
I'm giving it to her.
That's the whole story.
Thanks. Okay.
And, uh, I'll let you know when we have anything, all right?
Dustin Bishop!
Would you open the door, please?
We'd like to talk to you about your correspondence
with Thomas Gregson.
You hear the water running?
Yeah.
After you.
He's got a gunshot wound. He's lost a lot of blood.
Yeah. Thanks.
So, that was the hospital.
The doctors pulled a .38-caliber slug
out of Bishop's right shoulder.
He's stable, but he won't be awake for a while.
Also, we should get the preliminary
DNA results back soon, we'll know
for sure if he's the one who broke into your house.
We shouldn't waste time waiting.
The DNA won't be a match.
This guy's got my pictures all over his wall.
The doctors just took my wife's bullet out of his shoulder.
I don't believe it was your wife's bullet.
I believe that Bishop shot himself.
Surely you noted
the two handguns in the bathroom.
There was a Glock 21,
same as the assailant carried,
and then there was the .3volver,
same one used to shoot the attacker.
Why would Bishop shoot himself?
Well, I think he intended to confess
to a crime he didn't commit.
Man is clearly disturbed.
There are antipsychotic medications
in the bathroom cabinet; they haven't been refilled
in quite some time. Two guns, a prescription.
That doesn't mean Bishop didn't do it.
No, but the fact that he shot himself in the wrong shoulder does.
The blood on your wife's car was on the driver's side
window, had to have been on the left
of the attacker as he fled.
Ergo, the wound was in his left shoulder.
Bishop shot himself in the right shoulder.
It's the lab.
Blood's not a match.
It's wrong type.
Look, I know it's frustrating,
but whoever broke into your house knows
we're looking for him, he knows we got
a protective detail on Cheryl, on you.
He's not getting violent again.
Name is Sam Clennon.
According to the evidence, you two have a friend in common.
I've never seen this guy before.
Never even heard his name.
Are you sure he was killed by the same man
that threatened Mrs. Gregson?
Sure? No.
But a security camera outside Mr. Clennon's
building caught this around
10:30 last night.
I already showed this to Cheryl.
She's pretty positive it's the same guy.
And Clennon was shot with a Glock 21,
just like the gun she described.
Now, if this is our guy, and I'm thinking it is,
got to figure this is what he had in store for you the other night.
Obviously, last night wasn't the first time
someone tried to kill Mr. Clennon.
No, he's ex-mil... Military, yeah.
Shrapnel wounds are a bit of a giveaway.
As is the sun damage to his hands and face. Afghanistan?
He was between tours. Got back a few weeks ago.
There's an old bullet wound here.
More intrigued by the stab wound.
Most injuries sustained by soldiers in the Middle East
are from IED blasts or gunshots.
This man has managed to get himself stabbed.
Almost quaint.
You're sure you've never seen this guy before?
Never. I'm not sure I trust that answer.
Trust it.
Oh, I'm just saying it's possible there's a connection
between Mr. Clennon and you, and you don't remember.
This man's death, although unfortunate, must be viewed as progress.
We now know the killer has an agenda which is not limited to you.
Watson and I will continue
to pore over your case files.
If we can find a connection, maybe we can find the culprit.
Gentlemen.
We done here?
One more thing.
A dog walker in your neighborhood
called the precinct a little while ago,
said she'd seen the same light blue pickup truck
parked in front of your house
on at least two occasions last week.
Light blue?
No.
Oh, Detective Basken.
Hi. Hi.
I just wanted to let you know that it's gonna take me
a few more days before I can dig into those files,
what with everything happening with Captain Gregson.
Okay. Um...
uh, Holmes didn't talk to you?
You solved the case that Basken gave me?
What's a Basken?
Detective Basken.
He asked me to look into a string of robberies.
I brought the files home with me yesterday.
Oh, yes. That Basken.
I refer to most of the detectives here as "not Bell."
He just told me that you e-mailed him last night
with the rap sheet of a guy that you thought
was robbing food vendors in the West Village.
Basken just picked him up an hour ago, and he confessed.
I was up late last night ruminating the captain's case.
The files you're talking about were in the study,
and I needed a palate cleanser.
A palate cleanser?
The solution presented itself rather quickly.
Was I supposed to keep it to myself?
It was my case. In point of fact, Watson,
it was Detective Basken's case.
You were merely consulting. As was I.
I didn't ask you to look into it.
Nor did you ask me not to. No, I...
We live together, we work together, Watson.
When it comes to cases,
there is no "his" or "hers"; there is partnership.
I assist you, you assist me.
What matters is the result. Or do you disagree?
- It's not about disagreeing... - Hey, I just got
the contact info for Sam Clennon's mom.
Thought you might want to come with me
to make the next of kin notification,
see if she can point us toward anyone
who had a problem with her son.
Unless you're in the middle of something.
No.
We're good.
Hey, guys.
Hot coffee.
Hi. I didn't realize you'd be stopping by today.
Is everything okay?
Mind if we talk inside?
Sure.
Mikey put on some weight, huh?
He was so skinny back when he was a uni.
I could've stirred my coffee with him.
Have you seen Steven Accorsi lately?
Bell told me someone saw a light blue pickup
parked in front of our house a few times.
And I was thinking, "Hey, wait a minute.
I know someone with a light blue pickup""
He's a friend.
Always has been.
A friend...
who's suddenly in the habit
of parking in front of our house.
He came here twice. The first time,
I just needed some help moving some furniture.
And the second?
I made him dinner.
Nothing happened.
Nothing is going to happen.
Steven knows that.
Yeah, well, maybe he's not the person
I'm having a real problem with right now.
I'm sorry.
Do you not know the definition of the word "separated"?
I can have dinner with whoever I want.
You said all you needed was some time.
Well, were you under the impression that I was just going
to be meditating here like a monk?
You never said anything about seeing other people.
I said that I wasn't happy.
I suppose I should just, uh,
go out and pick up some...
floozy at a bar.
You want to? Be my guest.
What I want...
is to be with my wife.
Now?
After 28 years of missed dinners and weekends at the precinct?
Come on.
When did I ever tell you I wanted to be anything but a cop?
When did I tell you that I was always gonna be okay with that?
He made it through three tours in Afghanistan.
He comes back here, where he's supposed to be safe,
and gets killed in his own home.
Mrs. Clennon,
we think what happened to your son may be connected
to a break-in at the home
of a New York Police captain the other night.
Does the name Thomas Gregson mean anything to you?
No.
Sam never mentioned him before?
Never.
Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Sam?
No.
Everybody liked him.
Not everyone, obviously.
There was his killer, of course,
but also the person who stabbed him.
You know about that? Well, I noticed
the mark this morning. I-I said to my colleagues
that I thought it might not be due to his military service.
Would that be correct?
Well, yes and no.
During Sam's last tour, there was this...
guy who was having trouble adjusting.
Sam knew how hard deployment could be, wanted to help, but...
this guy...
Jacob, he was too far gone.
He snapped one day.
He came at Sam with a knife.
Do you remember Jacob's last name?
Esparza.
Okay, I'll reach out to the Army, see if we can't get
some current contact info on Mr. Esparza.
You could try Lieutenant Monroe.
Monroe?
James.
He was Sam's commanding officer in Afghanistan.
He lives here in New York.
The fifth president.
We talked to him outside the captain's house
the other night.
I remember. Buzz cut.
Tattoo on his arm.
Did you get a house number?
What?
Captain, your assistant said you'd gone to see your wife.
Are you still there?
I'm just leaving. Why?
Your neighbor, James Monroe, you need to take
your wife's protective detail, go to his house.
What? Why?
We now know the connection between you
and the second victim, Sam Clennon.
Or, rather, we know that there is no connection.
The killer wasn't after you.
That's not what he told Cheryl.
No, he-he told her he was after her husband.
Never mentioned you by name.
O'Malley, Grell, I need you with me.
Sam Clennon served under James Monroe in Afghanistan.
They knew each other.
More importantly, if you enter
Monroe's address into "Maps Earth,"
a picture of your house comes up.
It's quite common, apparently.
Although instead of receiving something as mundane
as a pizza ordered by your neighbor...
I got the guy that was coming to kill him.
We need to locate
Lieutenant Monroe before the killer
realizes his mistake.
James, it's Tommy Gregson.
I need to speak with you.
You home?
It's important.
The M.E. thought he was killed last night,
just a few hours after Sam Clennon.
No prints or DNA found at the scene,
but those casings were from a Glock 21.
So you were right. This was the work of our guy.
Yeah, looks that way.
Now, the good news is, we think we've identified a suspect.
Name is Jacob Esparza.
He served under James Monroe in Afghanistan.
So did Sam Clennon.
Height and weight would be in line with Cheryl's description.
Clennon's mother told us he was attacked by Esparza
in their barracks about a year ago.
Clennon took a knife to the gut.
Now, the incident report
that Lieutenant Monroe wrote up
pretty much sealed Esparza's fate.
But Esparza says it was trumped up, and that
Monroe and Clennon had it in for him for months.
Also, given the fact that he dropped out of high school
and he barely passed his GED,
makes him something less than a Rhodes scholar,
which makes it less surprising
that he broke into the wrong house.
Hmm. Sorry.
It's Crawford and Gleason.
They just picked up Esparza at his residence.
Hey, I know I still can't
take point, but let me know when they get here.
All right.
You need something?
You, uh... you glanced at me.
I beg your pardon?
You glanced at me twice earlier on.
Yeah, I do that sometimes
when someone's standing right in front of me.
Yeah, but your glances were furtive.
I was thinking about asking you something
after all this is over,
and then I realized how crazy it was,
so I decided to keep it to myself.
You know, people can do that.
Is it something about your wife?
I found out today that she's seen this guy
that she grew up with a couple of times.
"A friend."
He's a contractor.
He did some work on our house over the years.
So you were thinking of asking me to investigate him?
I was thinking about, and then I reconsidered,
because like I said, it was a crazy...
Anyway, it's... it's probably too late.
She and I... talked.
I don't think it's gonna work out.
If you should need someone to talk to, then,
please know I'll, uh...
I'll make Watson available to you.
You see something funny, Jacob?
Just thinking.
Even dead, these guys are still managing to mess with me.
So you admit you weren't a fan.
No.
You, Jacob, are what we in law enforcement call
a "cool customer."
It's not exactly what I expected
given your, uh, military record.
Yeah, probably 'cause you believed all that crap
about me cracking up,
right?
There some other reason you stabbed Sam Clennon?
I proposed to my girl right before I left for Afghanistan.
Three months into my deployment, I find out
she's shacked up with my best friend.
Weren't married yet, but it still felt like adultery.
So, when I found out that one of the guys from my unit was
hooking up with a girl who I knew had a husband
back in the States, I took that real seriously.
You saying you stabbed Clennon because he was having an affair?
I called him out because he was having an affair.
He got physical.
I was just defending myself.
That's not how this murdered man
described the incident in his report.
Course he didn't, 'cause Clennon
was the lieutenant's boy. They were tight.
Can you account for your whereabouts
the last two nights between the hours of 8:00 and 11:00 p.m.?
I was home.
Can anyone verify that?
Nah. If we were to ask you
to take off your shirt, would we find any fresh bullet wounds?
I look shot to you?
The individual we're looking for got winged the other night.
You don't have a wound, you don't have anything
to worry about.
Guess I got nothing to worry about.
You're conscious. Excellent. We're going to Queens.
Why are we going to Queens?
To visit the home wrecked
by home-wrecker Sam Clennon, of course.
Jacob Esparza gave us the name of the woman
that Clennon was sleeping with in Afghanistan.
Elizabeth Roney. Looked into her.
Turns out, not a fellow soldier, but an archaeologist overseeing
the excavation of artifacts from a Buddhist temple.
I'd say that her husband had motive
to want Clennon dead. Wouldn't you?
Yeah, but why kill Lieutenant Monroe, as well?
As I said the other day, Watson, monogamy is not a natural state.
In Dr. Roney's case, perhaps one affair was not enough.
Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!
Oh, I'm really sorry.
She's, uh,
sort of a man-hater.
Goes crazy every time some guy walks past the yard.
We weren't walking past, actually.
We were walking in.
Elizabeth Roney?
Yeah. Beth.
Can I help you?
I'm sorry.
This is just a lot to take in.
Sam and I weren't together very long, but still,
it's-it's hard to believe he's gone.
I'm surprised you didn't hear about what happened on the news.
I've been overseeing a dig in Kabul the last few days.
Um, ordinarily, I'd be on site,
but when teaching opportunities pop up here in New York,
I take advantage of the technology.
These, um... are eight and a half hours ahead,
so I've been keeping odd hours,
pulling a lot of all-nighters.
Is your hus...
Gotham!
Sorry. Like I said, problems with men.
Hmm. Is your husband around?
We'd like to speak with him, as well.
Why would you want to talk to Cameron?
Sam Clennon, the man that you had an affair with
in Afghanistan, was found dead, murdered
in his home two nights ago.
If you were me, wouldn't you want to speak with your husband?
Okay, there's been some confusion.
Yes, Sam and I were involved, but it wasn't an affair.
Not by a long shot.
What do you mean?
When we met, I was excavating a site
in Afghanistan called Mes Aynak.
Sam's unit was assigned as a security detail.
Before I left the states, Cameron and I were already
halfway through divorce proceedings.
Yeah, technically, we were married,
but we weren't a couple.
Cameron moved to Arizona to be with his new girlfriend,
and I went to Mes Aynak.
Now that I'm back, I'm even mailing him
some of his old stuff.
Were you ever romantically involved
with Lieutenant James Monroe?
No.
Why would you ask me that?
Look, I wish I could tell you Cameron was
some nut or bad person, but he wasn't.
Even if he knew about Sam-- which he didn't--
he would not have hurt him.
I found the case file that Detective Basken gave me
right outside my room.
I put it there.
Any particular reason?
You seemed miffed that I'd solved it.
I thought, for your own training,
you might want to review the file,
see if the answer presents itself.
I don't want to solve it now.
I wanted to solve it when it was unsolved.
And I was only miffed because I didn't have
a chance to... to figure it out on my own.
As I explained, the essence of our arrangement is partnership.
Partnership implies equality.
I'm good at this. We both know that.
You've been solving cases since you were a kid.
I've got some catching up to do.
It takes, what, 10,000 hours to master a skill?
This file was an opportunity for me to put some time in.
Now it's not. Okay, I don't want busywork,
thank you very much. I want to be useful.
But you're meditating, apparently.
I'm learning everything I can about Mes Aynak.
Oh, that's the site where Beth Roney worked
with those two victims, right?
Jacob Esparza was stationed there, too.
It seems to be a crossroads in this particular puzzle.
Fascinating place.
The remains of several ancient Buddhist settlements sit atop
the world's second largest
copper deposit.
Six years ago, a Chinese company was granted a lease
to mine the copper, but they can only do so
once the site is razed.
They're just going to destroy it?
Well, they would if they had their way.
But the plans incurred quite a bit of negative press,
in response to which
the Afghan government set up a rapid excavation.
The mining is currently on hold until 2014.
Anything which is not carefully removed before then
will be lost forever.
But they're beautiful.
Not beautiful enough, apparently,
to delay access to the world's
second largest copper deposit.
James Monroe and Sam Clennon
were part of the unit which was assigned
to provide security for the dig,
a hastily-assembled excavation
of priceless artifacts.
Corners were cut.
You think they stole from the site?
I'm casting about for motive
where it's proven difficult to come by.
Was anything reported stolen? No.
Which could mean
that the robbery was a phenomenal success.
Or that it never happened.
Watson, you attempted to work through the night.
Excellent. Hmm. Did you sleep?
In brief intervals.
Tea, Tibetan fried bread.
And the answer we're looking for.
What is this?
It is a list of every artifact
catalogued at Mes Aynak thus far.
The site contains nine different temples.
They've excavated seven.
In each of those temples,
they have found a carved votive bowl
common to Buddhist temples.
Unique to copper-rich Mes Aynak,
the bowls are adorned with green copper ornamentation.
Hmm. Interesting.
Not the answer I was looking for, but interesting.
They have found a bowl in each of the temples
they've excavated, except for the last one.
The one overseen by Monroe and Clennon.
In that dig, there's no bowl.
It was thought lost to plunder or time or shelling,
but I believe it was stolen.
Here is a picture of one of the bowls
recovered at the site.
Beth Roney had a bowl
just like this in her office yesterday.
She was working with Monroe and Clennon.
She prevented it from being catalogued, and then she
got it into their hands so they could remove it
from the site. Okay, why would she steal an artifact
and then just leave it out in the open?
No one even knows it's missing.
She obviously felt confident enough to hide it
amongst other souvenirs from her excavations.
She isn't working alone.
We know that a man committed the murder,
so she and her partner are simply eliminating
the other profit participants.
Eat.
Detective Bell is procuring a search warrant.
Once we've retrieved the bowl, it should be simple enough
to compel Dr. Roney to turn on her accomplice, and then
we'll have to decide what to do with the rest of our afternoon.
This is absurd.
I'm a scientist.
I don't steal from my digs.
It was sitting right here.
We got a warrant. We'll turn this place upside down.
I doubt they'll find anything.
She hid it somewhere after our visit yesterday.
I hope not-- 'cause if she did,
we got nothing on her.
We searched her place from top to bottom.
There's no trace of the bowl
we think she stole from the Afghan temple.
Well, it was at her house yesterday.
Sherlock and I both saw it.
Well, Ms. Roney says they're mistaken,
and that she had nothing to do with the murders
of Clennon or Monroe.
Obviously, our visit spooked her.
She must have passed the artifact off
to her co conspirator.
We could check her cell activity,
see which towers carried her signal.
That way we'd have a rough idea where she went.
She spent all night on two videoconference calls.
15 archaeologists on two different continents
confirm she wasn't
away from her computer longer than five minutes.
In all likelihood, her accomplice came to her,
removed the bowl and all other incriminating evidence.
Yeah, well, without proof, we don't have much choice.
We have to let her go.
I'm giving up on meditation.
Because we haven't figured out
who Beth Roney's partner is yet?
We've only been at it for a couple of hours.
We can't even find any suspects to evaluate.
She seems to have no boyfriend, no close friends.
To put a finer point on it: no friends of any sort.
Her every waking hour is occupied by work.
Mmm, wonder what that's like.
Where'd that come from?
Oh. The attic.
It's for you.
It is without doubt my most loathed article of furniture.
I'm touched.
I was thinking about what you said yesterday
about wanting to improve yourself.
I support the instinct.
But when it comes to investigation,
I cannot restrict myself to your current pace.
And the trunk is gonna help me how?
Inside, you will find files
on several cold cases.
My cold cases.
They are the handful of mysteries
in all of my career
which have eluded my powers of deduction.
So the next time you wish to hone your skills
on a solo venture, I encourage you to peruse them.
I've already given them my all.
Mmm. So there's little risk that I will arrive
at a solution before you. (soft chuckle)
You might even succeed where I have failed.
Thanks.
Anyway...
these are Detective Bell's canvass reports.
Useless.
None of Dr. Roney's neighbors heard or saw
anyone approaching her house between our two visits.
No one heard anything--
but her partner was there.
Her partner who we know is a man.
You want to get your dog
under control? No.
I don't. You're not welcome here.
None of you are.
Well, you can do it,
or Officer Dunn here can.
It's your choice.
Gotham!
Come on.
So, let me guess.
You have another warrant?
We do-- only this one is of the "arrest" variety.
- What? - We've identified
the man who shot Sam Clennon and James Monroe.
Your ex-husband, Cameron Hecht.
We had the right man the other day, just wrong motive.
He didn't kill your old partners because of some tryst;
he killed them because he was your new partner.
That's insane.
I told you, we got divorced
over a year ago.
And then you reconciled.
According to him, at least.
- You talked to Cameron? - At great length.
You told us he was in Arizona, but a quick check
of his recent credit card activity
revealed he was, in fact, in New York.
He had much the same look on his face
when we knocked on his hotel room door last night.
As soon as we made it clear
how it simple it was to compare his DNA
to the blood droplets he left at the captain's house,
he rolled on you. He told us about
the bowl you stole and a few other artifacts,
how you thought you could get
over a million dollars for them.
How did we think to look for him, you ask?
Well, you have your femi-Nazi hound to thank for that.
Your neighbors didn't recall
hearing anything unusual between our two visits,
including the barking of your dog.
Curious. We know that your partner was a man,
and that he'd managed to get in and out
of your home without upsetting her.
So was it someone that she had grown used to over time,
or was it someone that she'd simply never forgotten?
Beth Roney,
you have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say
can and will be used against you in a court of law.
Come in.
What's that?
Background check on Steven Accorsi.
I never gave you his name.
You told me that he was
a contractor who'd done some work on your home,
so I looked at some building permits that had been issued...
I told you I didn't want you doing anything about it.
Well, I wanted to help.
Aside from a few unpaid parking tickets,
your wife's suitor appears to be
above board. Sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear.
No, you keep that.
I... I don't want it.
Hmm. Your wife is aware that you didn't like him, correct?
Your feelings were... clear to her?
Only for the last 30 years, yeah.
Why?
Well, it's just... interesting, out of...
all the men she could have entertained,
she chose the one most likely to elicit a reaction from you.
Maybe she thought I deserved it.
Mmm. Pictures of you around the house,
it's odd that they're still on display. No?
Well, we haven't told the kids about the separation yet.
She's just... keeping up appearances.
You should know, Captain, I usually cheer
the end of any marriage.
As an institution, I think it's outlasted its usefulness
by quite a large...
margin. Huh.
And yet I've come to appreciate the premise of partnership.
It's far more intricate than I had previously imagined.
The very smallest gesture can speak volumes.
You're telling me not to give up?
I'm telling you, you should never have entered
into the charade that is wedded matrimony.
You had a partner.
Perhaps you still do.
Hi.
Who's this?
Hi!
Her name's Gotham.
Her owner's gonna be away for a while.
But I got to warn you,
she's got a thing about strange men.
I had to give her half a roast beef sandwich
to get her in the car.
Oh, doesn't like strange men-- now I get it.
Hi.
I wanted you to know that...
...I understand that this separation isn't just some...
waiting period.
I put you in second position for too long.
And you deserve better.
So I'm gonna work to give it to you.
I'm not gonna push.
You need space.
I respect that.
But I'm not gonna throw in the towel.
You take this time,
do what you got to do,
and I'll take it, too.
Figure out what I can do better.
Thank you.
Good night, sweetheart.
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
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