The egg was your innovation,
I take it? Best way to confirm
the pate's been struck.
No disputes in the absence of judges.
Beautiful city, New York.
It's no London, though, is it?
It's the American London.
Still, you must miss it.
I miss nothing.
Pates being the obvious exception.
May I assume we're still on for this evening?
Diogenes, my restaurant. Dinner.
You were a no-show at the opening.
Yes, well, I had a choice to make, didn't I?
Find the abductor of a young girl,
or choke down cuisine in a room full of gits.
I leave in a few days.
You've been putting this off for a week.
Diogenes is my creation, Sherlock.
I'm proud of it. You're my brother.
And here was me thinking that we could satisfy your itch
for fraternal bonding using the age-old tradition
of two siblings hitting each other.
It'd mean a lot to me.
Very well.
In the meantime...
What's today's word?
"Borborygmus."
What's that mean?
"The sound of your stomach grumbling."
Borborygmus.
Some words we just don't need.
Did you hear that?
What?
I don't know.
I guess it was nothing.
♪ Elementary 2x08 ♪ Blood Is Thicker Original Air Date on November 14, 2013
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
Lady saw the body on the roof from an office window,
called it in.
Radio car pulled the driver over.
Looks like she was stabbed
before she fell, just below the ribs.
Yeah, kind of rules out suicide.
Somebody came at her with a knife,
and then she went airborne.
Do we know who she is?
Well, no I.D.
No clue when she hit the truck.
About the only thing the driver could say for sure
is that she wasn't there when he started this morning.
So, unless a missing persons call comes in
matching her description,
I'm looking at canvassing
every stop he's made today.
Huh.
Good news, Detective.
Think I might be able to narrow your search.
Would you mind asking the driver to join us for a moment?
Sir?
Would I be correct in assuming
that these numbers are used to organize the parcels
as they're loaded for delivery?
Yeah. Loading sets me up in the morning
with everything in delivery order.
Every stop, I find the delivery
by checking the numbers on the shelf.
Excellent. So, you should have no trouble
in telling us where you were
when you delivered the box which sat here.
Sure. But why?
If you just do as he asks, please.
When our Jane Doe hit the roof,
the impact dislodged paint chips from the ceiling,
which, as you can see, are currently dispersed
around the shelves and floor.
But notice
said paint chips
abruptly stop
partway along this shelf.
These spaces,
the chips hit boxes which were still here
at the moment of impact.
Boxes which our accommodating
but unobservant driver has since delivered.
So, we need simply identify the delivery
immediately preceding the point where the chips cease...
And we'll know the truck's location when the body fell.
Closer than we started.
Guess I'll start ringing doorbells.
I think we should start there-- the third balcony up.
I mean, all the apartments have the same trees
on their terrace except for that one.
Maybe it got knocked over when she fell.
Well done, Watson.
Well, the stabbing happened here, obviously.
Miss Doe stumbled backwards and over the balcony.
Hey, the super doesn't know the girl's name.
Said people pay for their privacy here.
Um, no cameras,
no doorman, no questions.
He gave me the management company's contact info.
Thought maybe they could tell us.
You were up early this morning.
You assume that I slept.
Well, I heard you and Mycroft up on the roof.
I was worried he might wake you.
The man may have lost a few pounds,
but he has all the grace of a drunken mastodon.
Well, I think it' nice...
the two of you getting to know each other again.
Her name was Haley Tyler.
She was 26. I take it
the address on Miss Tyler's driver's license
is not this apartment.
Yep, you're right.
"Mineral Wells, Texas."
Two pairs of designer shoes, barely used.
One older pair of the bargain basement variety.
The wear on all three, however,
indicates an identical supination of the left heel,
ruling out multiple owners.
There are newer clothes
bought at high-end boutiques hanging in the closet.
The older, more homey attire, is stuffed into her luggage.
Yes, Miss Tyler was new to the big city.
She was accustomed to far less affluent means.
It's unlikely she could have afforded
this little bauble herself.
I humbly submit, she was a kept woman.
Well,
if you're right, you're not gonna believe
who was keeping her.
That phone you get along with better than most people--
the guy who owns this apartment invented it,
along with half the computers in the country.
Ian Gale.
I just read his autobiography last year.
Impressive man.
Are you kidding me? He is an icon.
I'm sure he puts his ear buds in one at a time,
just like the rest of us.
Detective Bell?
That's right.
You're not Ian Gale.
No. I'm Alan Becker, Mr. Gale's lawyer.
Someone with a badge shows up looking
for Mr. Gale, you get me.
Yes, I am aware who Miss Tyler is.
Was.
If you'd like,
my office can assist in contacting next of kin.
Thanks, but we've already reached out to her mom.
She's on her way to New York as we speak.
I'm not at liberty to discuss the nature
of Mr. Gale's relationship with Miss Tyler,
but I'm sure I can speak for Ian and all of Galeforce
in expressing our shock and sadness at this horrible news.
We'd like to hear Mr. Gale express
his shock and sadness himself.
And we already have a pretty good sense
of the nature of the relationship.
What we would like to ask Mr. Gale is
how the relationship ended.
Lover's quarrel?
Did Miss Tyler threaten to go public? Tell his wife?
Was she no longer satisfied being the other woman?
Mr. Gale is unavailable,
and I can assure you, he had nothing to do with her death.
How would you know that without asking him?
He's in Kuala Lumpur.
He has been for over a month.
Here.
This was recorded about 12 hours ago
by a local Malaysian news channel.
He's there overseeing the plans
for the new chip assembly plant.
Should I bother asking how long a flight is
from New York to Kuala Lumpur?
It's about a day.
Well, that is quite a compelling alibi.
Except the man in that video
is not Ian Gale. Excuse me?
You've hired a stand-in, a look-alike.
Politicians and tyrants have been doing it
for as long as there have been cameras,
so, why shouldn't CEOs join the club?
A search for the make and year of the SUV
in that video yields a vehicle height
of precisely six foot, four inches.
The man who climbed into it
was a good five inches shorter than the roof.
The real Ian Gale
is an impressive six foot, one.
It's a magnificent device.
I would thank Mr. Gale himself if he were here, but he's not.
Since he's not, why don't you tell us?
Did he murder Haley Tyler himself,
or did the company hire someone to do that for him, too?
This meeting is over.
Hello?
Good morning, Joan. It's Mycroft.
Did I wake you?
Um... a little. Is everything okay?
Well,
the reason I'm calling so early is,
I was wondering, is everything okay with Sherlock?
Why do you ask?
Well, he was supposed to meet me here at the restaurant
st night. He never showed.
I've tried his cell a few times, no answer.
I was just a bit concerned.
Well, we were up pretty late
trying to locate a missing billionaire.
He was still at it when I went to bed.
Did you know this is the third time he's stood me up?
Have you met your brother?
Well, this is my last
available night before I go, so, if you wouldn't mind...
I will make sure
he is there.
Good morning.
Yup.
Oh. I take it the search for Ian Gale is still on?
Any progress?
Of a sort. Establishment of facts,
elimination of places he is not.
He has not, for example, been seen at his office or any
of his known residences for perhaps as long as six weeks.
I also reviewed other,
ostensible public appearances of his
during his trip abroad, and I have
confirmed it was the stand-in every time.
Whatever events precipitated Miss Tyler's death,
it seems that Ian Gale and his company
have been preparing for some time.
I still don't get it.
I mean, why would one of the biggest corporations
on the planet help its CEO commit and cover up a murder?
Well, I'll wager
that the answer will ultimately boil down to "money."
In the meantime, I've found cause for optimism
that Gale might still be in New York.
His private jet came straight back here
after depositing the imposter in Malaysia.
Hasn't been used since.
I put out feelers to some of my contacts
at New York's finest hotels.
I've also advised the police to surveil the homes
of some of his closest friends. Any luck,
we'll be able to pose those questions to the man himself.
You didn't tell me that you were
supposed to have dinner with Mycroft last night.
Was I supposed to? Well, he called me
this morning-- he was worried about you.
He wants to try again tonight.
Well, if we manage to bring Haley Tyler's killer
to justice today, then I'll be
more than happy to accommodate him.
And if we don't, just try
and remember that you have a partner now.
So, I can still
work the case while you have dinner, right?
Unfortunately, the balancing act which you prescribe
may prove unnecessary-- it seems that
finding Ian Gale may not be as challenging as I had thought.
The entire floor of this hotel
has been booked solid for the past month
under the name Frank Beaufort.
It's a rather sloppy alias, if you ask me.
Sir Francis Beaufort was a 19th-century
Irish naval officer who devised the system
by which we measure wind speeds at sea.
Including "gale force"? Hmm.
Unless I'm off my mark,
Mr. Gale has reserved the floor to himself
to avoid prying eyes.
And what makes you think he's just gonna
open his door for us?
One keycard to access every room
on the aforementioned floor, courtesy of my contact here.
Do I even want to know?
He's a chef in the hotel restaurant.
He has rather exotic tastes.
The package contains half a pound of Swedish moose cheese,
one of the rarest and most expensive cheeses in the world,
produced only three times a year by a single farm
in the county of Vasterbotten.
I did the owners a favor once, and they keep me in fresh supply.
This is one of those "so many questions" moments.
Why only three times a year? Well, I'm not sure.
Having never milked a moose,
I imagine one must catch it in the right mood.
I don't know how you got up here,
but this is a private floor.
Yeah, it's a bit too private, actually.
Sherlock Holmes. Joan Watson.
We're consulting detectives. Hotel security asked us
to come upstairs, have a look around.
Hotel security did not send you.
Thank you for confirming that you are not them.
You're in the private employ of Ian Gale or his company, are you not?
Well, you might not know this, so I consider it only fair
to inform you that you're protecting a suspected murderer.
If you continue to protect him by the time the police arrive,
you will in all likelihood be charged with obstruction.
You say your name was Holmes? I did.
Mr. Holmes,
Miss Watson, come in.
This is my wife,
Natalie.
My attorneys made me aware of your...
inquiries.
You've got it all wrong.
I'm not hiding because I committed some crime.
I'm hiding because I'm...
under the weather.
This is why your company sent a decoy to Malaysia--
word of your condition would cause shareholder panic.
Stocks would plummet.
The board needed time
to prepare a transition.
And your relationship to Haley Tyler?
Also not what you think.
She wasn't my mistress.
She was my daughter.
Are you saying you're in need of a heart transplant?
He's saying he already had one, about a month ago,
but his body is rejecting the new heart.
According to this,
everything was going fine for the first couple of weeks,
and then the anti-rejection drugs stopped working.
He's on corticosteroids, cyclosporine--
but... his body is producing too many antibodies.
There's only so much the drugs can do.
In layman's terms, I'm, uh...
I'm too much of a fighter for my own good.
He is on every donor list.
But there is no guarantee that another heart
will become available in time.
You also have Kell-null blood; that is very rare.
You would have needed a directed donor
for blood transfusions.
That's why your daughter came in from Texas,
right, she had the same blood type?
I read your autobiography last night.
In it, you failed to mention that you have a daughter.
May I assume it was because she is the result of...
an indiscretion?
One-night stand...
years before I met Natalie.
I was a bit full of myself back then.
It was the mid-'80s.
Computers were... changing the world,
and my face was on the cover of every mag...
- every magazine. - You were worried
that an illegitimate child might affect your... "legacy."
I paid her mother
$2 million to disappear.
So, fast-forward to several months ago.
You find out that you need a blood donor,
and you realize that your estranged daughter
may well be a likely match, so...
it suddenly becomes expedient to reconcile.
Haley volunteered to donate the blood.
That's the reason she came to New York.
I'm confused. How did she find out
he's in need if you're working so hard to keep this a secret?
Hmm? At what point did she even find out
that Ian Gale is her father? When Ian found out
that he needed a transplant,
he wanted to make up for the past.
So he wanted to bring Haley
back into his life to have a relationship with her,
in case...
In case it was my last chance.
When we heard what had happened yesterday,
we knew we should... we should have said something.
Admitting your connection to Haley
would mean revealing your condition.
I'm ashamed.
But now...
I don't care how it affects the company.
I'll give you any help you want.
Just find the person that killed my daughter.
Well, thanks to you two, the Gales are cooperating fully.
They got any and all of their people
that were in Haley Tyler's apartment the last few days
to provide elimination prints.
Any of the prints remain unspoken for?
So far, just one set,
and it isn't in our system, either.
We got the Feds checking their database,
but it might take a while to get some answers.
Well, the killer's probably gonna turn out to be
someone that Haley knew, right?
I mean, there were no signs of a break-in.
I'll let you know if anything turns up.
Ah. Dr. Hawes from the morgue.
I asked him to notify us when he finished examining Haley Tyler.
He says there doesn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary,
but we might as well see for ourselves.
You want to go to the morgue? Is that a problem?
You were supposed to meet Mycroft at Diogenes.
I'm working. So take a break.
A break? It's the last night he can do it.
He may not be back for a while.
We should be so lucky. Just go.
Okay, I will go to the morgue.
I will call you if I find anything.
Partner, remember? I can cover for you.
You must by now be aware of my opinions regarding food.
My wants in life are simple:
a loaf of bread and a clean collar.
The ritualization- slash-fetishization
of eating is as egregious
a waste of time as I can think of.
Well, I'll try and remember that while I'm enjoying my dinner.
I see here that you ruled a stab wound
as the official cause of death.
The knife severed the abdominal aorta.
She'd have bled to death internally in a matter of seconds,
whether she fell from the terrace or not.
Mmm. So Sherlock was probably right--
the fall was not part of the plan.
Killer knew right where to put the knife, though.
Single entry, avoided the rib cage,
killed her fast.
You think it was someone with a medical background?
The alternative's dumb luck.
But, hey, dumb luck happens sometimes.
Yo. Hey. Hey.
Didn't know you were gonna be here.
This is Maureen Tyler,
Haley's mom. This is Joan Watson.
She consults for the NYPD.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Thank you.
Now, you sure you want to do this?
Would you believe the last conversation
I had with her was an argument?
Is that when she found out that Ian was her father?
She was upset.
Mostly with me.
Ian didn't care about her
until...
he realized he needed her.
I take it you didn't
want her helping him.
I didn't try to stop her from giving blood.
I didn't hate him that much.
I just didn't think
she should come to New York.
I knew it would end badly.
Mrs. Tyler...
I promise you, we're gonna do everything in our power
to find the person who did this to her.
You don't have to look very far.
I know exactly who killed her.
Now, tell me that wasn't more satisfying
than a bout of singlestick.
Just because I tend to forego epicurean pleasures,
it doesn't mean I can't appreciate them.
It was exquisite.
Thank you.
Yeah.
Look, I know you're keen to go back to the station,
but before you do,
there was something
I wanted to give you.
The keys to 221B.
My 221B?
I had my things moved while I was here in New York.
Found a little place in Kensington.
And besides, it was never anything more than your home.
You belong there, not me.
Well, I appreciate the gesture,
but I live here now.
Permanently?
I haven't decided.
Mmm, does that surprise you?
Well, London wasn't just your home,
Sherlock, it was your passion.
Well, I have many passions.
Work being first amongst them.
And speaking of work...
Look, I-I didn't want to get into this,
but it seems I have no choice.
I... I spoke with Father a couple of nights ago.
He's quite...
perturbed you're still living here.
What? I know he wasn't
the most demonstrative, but he was quite proud
of the work you did at Scotland Yard,
and he'd imagined that once you completed
your rehabilitation, you'd return to England,
maybe even show a little... gratitude.
Early-onset dementia is so sad.
Look, I know you two have had your problems,
but he's been good to you these past few years,
Sherlock-- he literally picked you up off the street.
He got you clean. He paired you with Joan.
He helped me because he was embarrassed by what I'd become.
Well, whatever his reasons, he's grown unhappy.
I'm worried he's going to cut you off.
He reminded me he owns
the building you currently reside in.
He plans to evict me?
He also reminded me he has discretionary control
over your trust fund.
I've only ever touched that money to pay Watson her salary.
It doesn't change the fact that you are, in your own way,
still dependant on him, Sherlock.
Well, he can have the bloody building.
And the money. I'll live in a cardboard box if I have to.
This isn't about you anymore, Sherlock.
If it was, I wouldn't have broached the subject.
But for the first time in your life,
you're making decisions for two people.
Joan may be your partner,
but it's Father's roof over her head,
it's his money that lines her pockets.
Now, if you want to tell him to sod off,
that's your prerogative.
But as someone who cares for you, and for Joan,
I beg you, think about how your decision might affect her.
We met with Haley's mother
earlier tonight.
She came to New York?
Well... I-I guess I shouldn't be too surprised
she didn't reach out.
I know she was opposed to Haley coming here.
Well, she mentioned that shortly after Haley arrived in New York,
your husband changed his will to include her.
We talked about it. We thought it was the right thing to do.
Now, Mrs. Tyler was under the impression
it was a lot of money.
As in a number followed by seven zeroes.
That's right.
She was also under the impression that it was money
that would've otherwise gone to you.
Yes, the will was changed,
and yes, the money allotted to Haley
would technically have been mine.
We spoke to some people at the hotel
where you and Ian have been staying.
They told us that you went out yesterday morning.
You left around 7:30 a.m.,
and you returned around 9:30 a.m.
We know that Haley was killed a little after 8:00.
I did go out for a couple of hours yesterday.
I went for a walk after sitting at my husband's bedside
all night long.
I left my phone
and I went to the park and I sat on a bench.
And no one can confirm your story?
It's not a story.
I noticed your ease
with medical terms when we met yesterday.
I assumed you picked it up from being around all those doctors,
but then I checked-- you were a doctor yourself, weren't you?
A pediatric surgeon.
You retired a few years ago.
So? So, whoever killed Haley
knew exactly where to find her abdominal aorta.
There was a precision to the attack
that one might call surgical.
Okay, a couple of things.
I am going to call my attorney.
In fact, I am going to call all of my attorneys.
Not because I think I need their help,
but because I want them to be ready
to bring a lawsuit against this department
if you take any of these accusations public.
You are positing that I killed Haley
because she was assigned a portion of my inheritance.
There is just one problem.
Giving her that 20% was my idea.
I love my husband.
He was too proud to reach out to Haley at first,
and so I convinced him.
So if all I cared about was the will,
why would I have done that?
Why wouldn't I have just let it alone
and let Ian take his chances?
I'm assuming your husband
can verify all this?
He can. He can also verify
that there is language in the will
that guarantees Haley's share goes to her mother
in the event that she predeceases her.
Haley's death didn't change anything for me.
Maureen might have been able to tell you that
if she had supported Haley's decision
instead of condemning it.
I'd sooner die.
So, it's official.
The Gales are no longer cooperating with the NYPD.
They gave a copy of Ian's will to Captain Gregson
and it confirmed everything that Natalie said last night.
Okay, so now you can say it.
Say what? I blew it.
You confronted a suspect
who had strong answers to your questions.
Doesn't mean you were wrong about her.
Natalie Gale had no motive to want Haley dead.
Haley wasn't even in their lives until she brought her here.
Why would Natalie incite a reunion,
tell Ian to put her in the will
only to turn around and kill her?
Detective, I hear it was a discouraging morning.
Yeah, I've had better.
But it's looking up.
Finally got a match on the one set of prints
in Haley Tyler's apartment we couldn't identify.
Ray McKibben of Mineral Wells, Texas.
Has an outstanding warrant for assault in El Paso.
I just sent you his sheet.
Now, I ran the name past Haley's mother.
She said Ray was Haley's on-again, off-again boyfriend.
She had no idea he was in New York.
Far as she knew, they'd split up.
The cops in Mineral Wells are checking
with his usual running buddies, but he hasn't turned up yet.
Maybe he's still in New York?
I put a BOLO out on the guy.
I'll let you know if we get any hits.
When Haley found out she was a billionaire's daughter,
I'm guessing Mr. On-Again/Off-Again
would've been a lot more on again.
Obviously he joined her
Too bad the only thing we know is where he isn't.
Well, that's not true.
We also know where he's been.
I'm not seeing any signs
that Ray spent a lot of time here.
We know that Haley had not told her mother
she'd reconnected with a violent offender,
so it's quite possible she was keeping his presence
a secret from the Gales as well.
So, how was your dinner with Mycroft last night?
What if I told you
we could no longer reside in the brownstone?
What?
And what if I told you that in order to pay your salary,
we'd need to take on more cases that actually paid?
Where is this coming from?
My father.
Mycroft tells me he is displeased
and he wants me back in London.
Why does he want you back in London?
I don't think he does.
Not really.
But it might take him months, if not years,
before he realizes that.
The man is as mercurial a character
as you will ever encounter. Hmm.
Mycroft says he means to cut me off.
I didn't realize
that you were paying me with his money.
Well, I wasn't.
Not for a good long while.
But over the last few months, I've been compelled
to dip into a fund that he maintains.
Haven't taken on a paying client in quite some time.
I've been approached on numerous occasions,
of course, but...
the interest has never been mutual.
I prefer the work we come by through the NYPD,
as I believe do you.
The is, er there so often is when dealing with the devil,
an alternative.
We both move to London.
What are you saying?
I told Mycroft I made certain promises to you
when I took you on as my partner.
I made it very clear I would not break those promises.
He said that it was his strong suspicion
that Father would continue to gift us his support in London.
We would in all likelihood take on work at Scotland Yard.
You could continue, if not maybe,
complete your education there.
Is that what you want?
What I want is irrelevant.
Pretty sure it's not.
I was very pleased to return to London a few months ago.
Not just because it is unquestionably
the greatest and most cultured city on the planet,
but because it made me appreciate what I have here.
I've got a support system--
you...
Captain Gregson.
Even Detective Bell.
I feel that I have thrived here, not because of who I am,
but because of who I have come to know.
I don't really wish to give that up
until I'm ready.
Your turn.
I've never met your father, not face-to-face.
All I know is that he got you help when you needed it.
But screw him.
We can find a new place to live.
Do you think the TV is going to tell us
how to find Ray McKibben? TV? No, no.
The DVR, on the other hand...
Televisions are idiot boxes.
DVRs are idiots' helpers.
We are the idiots.
We quite willingly give them a part of ourselves,
we teach them our tastes, our preferences,
just so that they will know which programs to record.
Never once stopping to consider the fact
that our selections can be used to profile us.
And how is Haley's profile going to...
Someone programmed this DVR
to record a series about horse racing
called The Winner's Circle.
The episodes have been piling up
since the day Haley was murdered.
And yet all of her cosmetics, all of them,
are cruelty-free.
Seems a little incongruous, don't you think,
someone with such principled buying habits
would favor a sport known for its harsh treatment of animals?
So you think Ray is the one who's been watching these shows?
According to the program's description, The Winner's Circle
"caters to the betting man via in-depth analysis
of upcoming races."
Four days ago,
someone set the DVR to record the Thoroughbred Cup Challenge
2:00 p.m. today.
Given Mr. McKibben's arrest warrants,
I think it highly unlikely that he would be willing
to enter the personal information needed
to open an online betting account.
So, if he's in New York and he wants to place a wager,
he would have to do it in person at a track.
My horse finally literally comes in
and you guys arrest me.
I feel for you, Ray. I do.
You've had a rough week, but...
not nearly as rough as your girlfriend.
I already told you, I didn't
have anything to do with that.
Do yourself a favor, Ray.
Tell us the truth--
did you two have a fight?
I wasn't even there the morning she died.
Okay? I was out.
I came back, I saw the blood on the floor and Haley was gone.
At which point your sense of civic duty kicks in,
you rush to the phone, you call the authorities to report
that your girlfriend may have become the victim of foul play.
I didn't know what happened to her; all I knew
was that nobody was going to believe me
when I said it wasn't me.
If you weren't in Haley's apartment
when she died, where were you?
She was sick.
She had been for a couple of weeks.
The flu... or something.
The night before, she ran out of medicine
so I went down to the pharmacy to get some more.
She had the flu?
Yeah, her body ached all over.
She was burning up, like 102.
And you said she had been like that for two weeks?
That's when it started, yeah.
At first it was just, you know, fatigue,
but then, a couple of days ago,
she started having trouble keeping food down
and her fever got really bad.
I'm guessing you can give us
the address of this pharmacy.
Eighth Street and Kent.
They got to have cameras, right?
Check 'em, you'll see I'm telling the truth.
I wasn't anywhere near Haley when she got killed.
You gonna make me ask?
Miss Tyler's alleged flu-- it troubles you.
When I looked at Ian Gale's medical file the other day,
I saw that Haley donated blood just over a week ago,
but if she had a flu or was fighting an infection,
she wouldn't have been allowed.
She may not have mentioned it.
No, if she was as sick as Ray said she was,
someone would have noticed.
Well, not everyone is as observant as you and I.
But, given our strongest suspect
may have just alibied himself,
I think it warrants further investigation.
Yeah, you were right.
Miss Tyler donated one unit exactly eight days ago.
Was there any mention of her having the flu?
No.
Would it be possible for me to speak
to the person who actually took her blood?
Actually you are.
And she didn't seem sick to you?
She was fine.
Even joked with me about "topping off" the bag.
She was a sweet kid.
So, according to the lab tech that took Haley's blood,
she was in the pink of health,
but as we know, Ray McKibben's alibi checked out.
He really was at that pharmacy buying flu medicine
when she went off the terrace.
I think it's time we turned our focus back
to your original suspect,
she of the flimsy alibi, Mrs. Gale.
I'd love to, if she had a motive to kill Haley.
Detective.
Thank you for telling us.
Ian Gale has just died.
The company will be releasing a statement shortly.
I think maybe we've been coming at this case the wrong way.
What if it's not actually about the murder of Haley Tyler?
What if it's really about the murder of Ian Gale?
Captain, I thought I made it clear on the phone the other day...
Yeah, you said you'd sue the department
if your client was subjected
to any additional harassment for Haley Tyler's murder,
but we're not here to talk about her murder.
We're here to talk about Ian Gale's.
I had no idea until Miss Watson told me--
the recovery rate for the procedure
that your husband had is around 80%.
Captain, what is this about?
Ian Gale died of natural causes.
Mrs. Gale,
is it not true
that approximately ten months ago,
you briefly engaged the services
of a divorce attorney?
You don't have to answer that.
He's right, you don't.
We already know.
We also know that, prior to your marriage,
you signed a prenuptial agreement.
In the event of a divorce, you would walk away
with a prearranged sum of $15 million.
But then it became clear that Ian was going
to need a heart transplant,
and you came up with a plan to walk away with more.
None of you are making any sense.
First you accuse me of hurting Haley, and now Ian.
The best doctors in the world
were caring for him.
There's no way anyone could have caused a rejected transplant.
Actually there is...
or at least there was in Ian's case.
First you needed to convince him to reconcile with Haley.
I mean, you could have found
other blood donors with his rare type,
but you needed someone you could keep close,
someone you could manipulate.
A few weeks ago, after Ian's transplant,
you obtained a tissue sample
of his new heart from a biopsy and injected it into Haley.
You told her the shot was a supplement
to help with blood donations,
and she believed you because you used to be a doctor.
Her immune system went into overdrive
producing antibodies, the same antibodies
that your husband was being given
anti-rejection drugs to combat.
That's why she was getting sick.
She didn't have any flu.
Her body was fighting a foreign invader,
and she wasn't getting any help.
You used her as an incubator
to cultivate a custom-made poison
for which there is no tox screen.
I was good to Haley.
You gave Haley
20% of your inheritance, right?
Only now we know it wasn't out of the kindness of your heart.
It was because you needed her.
And because the remaining 80% was still about
a hundred times more than you would have gotten in a divorce.
I assume you can prove all this.
We're working on that.
In the meantime, we have a witness.
Your accomplice, Christian Suarez, one of
the lab techs who was assisting with your husband's care.
But you know that.
We had some very pointed questions for him this morning.
He confessed to providing you with biopsy tissue.
He also admitted
to harvesting antibodies from Haley's blood
and injecting them into Ian.
All for the tidy sum of $1 million.
When Ian's health turned,
it looked to his doctors like an overactive immune response.
His system was creating too many antibodies
and attacking the new heart.
You decided you had to eliminate Haley,
lest she grow so ill that someone tipped to the truth.
Unfortunately for you,
that murder did not go off without a hitch.
Mr. Suarez said that you intended to stage the scene
as a botched robbery, but after she went off the balcony,
you had no choice but to flee.
We're still gathering evidence.
The M.E. is running new tests on Haley's blood.
And if we find out what we think we're gonna find out,
now is your chance to get ahead of this.
Hmm.
Cutting it a little close for the red-eye, aren't we?
A few bits of business at the restaurant.
Changed my flight till the morning.
And since you wanted to see me, I thought I'd stop by.
What's this?
It's a letter for Father.
I'm to play messenger, am I?
You did for him.
He didn't ask me to speak with you, Sherlock.
I merely... I know, and I am grateful.
Part of recovery is... structure.
Recognizing what is working and sticking with it.
What I have here with Watson...
is working.
There may well come a time
when it is right for me to return to London, but, uh,
it isn't now.
So, I have composed a missive for Father's perusal.
In it, I express what I consider to be an appropriate amount
of gratitude for everything he's done.
And I explain, in minute detail,
my decision to remain in New York.
That can't have been easy for you.
It was not unlike carving the words into my very skin.
It's all I can offer for now.
You know how capricious he can be.
The chips will fall as they may.
You're so different now, Sherlock.
You are, essentially, the same.
I'll be back.
Diogenes will need me.
Until then.
It's me.
My little gambit didn't work.
He's decided to stay.
He hasn't spoken directly with my father in years.
There's little chance either will realize
what I've attempted.
I'm afraid we're going to have
to come at the problem a different way.
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
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