All language subtitles for NCIS.S15E17-uk

Are you sure
I can't make you a sandwich?

Uh, nope. I'm good.
Thanks, Doc.

Well, I appreciate you
working late, Kasie,

but you do know we could
resume early in the morning.

Uh, nope, we can't.

Not with your
deadline a week away.

That is, unless you're cool
with me making

editorial choices on my own.

Uh, otherwise, I
recommend you turn off

that procrastinator's dream show
and focus over here, please.

It's got a little bit of damage.
Y-You've had it for a while.

- You can see one of the spikes is missing here.
- Well, it's real old.

No, but, I mean,
that doesn't distract at all

from the value,
as far as I'm concerned.

Well...
I mean, it's just...

- It's just part of its story.
- Right.

- Right, right, right. Yeah.
- Wow.

I know. I like to just
think of all the people

that have held that.
Can I make you an offer?

No. No, it's not for sale.

- I don't think so.
- Hey, Duck.

Jethro, tell me you're watching.

I never miss this show.

I mean, is it possible?

After all these years?

How fast can you get down here?

♪ NCIS 15x17 ♪
One Man's Trash
Original Air Date on March 13, 2018

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Ah, take it yours
is busted again?

Ah. Mine, too.

Top government agency,

and we have one
working stapler between us?

Uh, make that no staplers,
because this one is busted, too.

Maybe it's just empty.
Maybe it's just jammed.

- Ooh.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa!

No, no, no.
What are you doing?

You're gonna break it.

And here are the
hardest-working special agents

in law enforcement.

Oh, welcome back, Ducky.

Eleanor, allow me
to introduce

Kasie Hines,
my graduate assistant.

Kasie, this is...

Wait, don't tell me.

“Eleanor” would make
you Agent Bishop,

and you look more like an
Agent McGee than a Torres,

which would make you
Agent Torres.

- Damn it, I don't look like a McGee?
- Ah, well.

Kind of look like a McGee
with a tan, maybe.

Kasie insisted on
accompanying me.

Like I had a choice.

Publisher's expecting his
first five chapters on Monday,

and we're nowhere close.

Oh, we're not that far.

I-I hired Kasie to
keep me on schedule.

Little did I know she
would be so, uh...

emphatic.

And I'll be emphatically furious
if you miss your deadline.

We still have a ton

of notes to transcribe.

Plus, his chapter
on unsolved cases

will need a big rewrite if
this Flintstones thing pays off.

- Flintstones?
- Yeah, Gibbs called me

about it last night,
and I must say,

this thing
looks very Flintstones.

What the hell
is that thing?

It's a ceremonial
Viking war stick.

It was adopted by an obscure
fraternal organization

back in the 1800s.

Gibbs and
Ducky think it's also

the missing weapon
to an unsolved case.

16 years ago, I pulled
a single wooden spike

from the skull of a
young petty officer.

- You never traced it to a weapon?
- No.

No, not until just now.

And you have
got to be Jethro!

Hi!

Hello.

Yeah, Kasie's work
on my book

has made her very familiar
with the team.

Perhaps a little
too familiar.

It's-it's an honor, really.
I mean,

Doc is writing some
great stuff about you.

Okay.

Yeah. Okay.

Uh, McGee.

Yeah, boss. Um, well, as you saw
on the show last night,

the woman chose not to sell
the item in question.

- Yeah.
- $3,000.

- No. You know what?
- Three grand's a lot of moola, honey.

Tell you what.
It's not for sale.

It's worth way more
than that, anyway.

- I know it.
- What?!

More than $3,000
for a piece of wood?

Boss, I dug up the lady's
address in southern Maryland.

Okay. Duck, let's go.

- Bishop, you, too.
- Oh, man.

He does move fast.

So much junk,

so little time.

Junk, my dear Ellie,
is in the eye of the beholder.

As are most treasures.

What the hell

are you doing in here?

Oh, o-our sincerest apologies,
Mrs. Keogh.

Yeah, we're with NCIS,
Mrs. Keogh.

How much you want for this?

Seriously, Gibbs?

Take a buck for it.

Ah, it's worth more than that.
I'll give you five.

Sorry.

Ever since that show
aired last night,

we've been besieged with
more crazy collectors.

You wouldn't believe the offers
we got for that damn war stick.

Speaking of which,
I don't see it here,

where it was mounted
on the show.

Don't have it anymore.

Show was shot,
what, three months ago?

Couple weeks later,

my husband talked me
into taking Mike's offer.

So the Pickers have it now.
They do.

For a hell of a lot less
than we've been offered today,

I can tell you.
- Well, Mrs. Keogh, how did you acquire it?

Tracing its provenance,

why, it just might
lead us sooner to our killer.

Your killer?

We're investigating a murder.
Old one.

And you think that stick...?

Oh, no, I-I can't imagine
that nice young fella

that sold it to me
would be capable.

So, does that nice young fella
have a name?

Earl.

Earl something.

Or Fred.

Paid him $2,500 at a flea market
about ten years ago.

I'm sure I've got
his card here somewhere.

Why?

Why? Why what? What, Georgie?

Why did I ever
talk you into selling

for so damn little?

With all
due respect, Mr. Keogh,

$3,000 is a decent price.

The call we just got.

The offer-- man, it
was a knee buckler.

Cranky son of a gun
just offered us

25,000.

Dollars?

Who was that?
Oh, I don't know.

Guy didn't believe me at first
when I told him we sold it.

Then he got all mad,

cursing and hollering
before he hung up on me.

Dare I say

that someone that
eager and angry...

Might just know something.

It's really no different

from one of those sorority
or fraternity paddles.

Purely ceremonial.

Uh, a symbol, a totem.

And very good
luck, supposedly.

Right. A talisman.

These groups love
that kind of thing.

You know much about this?

Esteemed Order
of the Blue Guard?

No, but these groups
have been around forever.

Knights of Columbus,

the Freemasons, Rotary Club.

Let's not forget about
the International Brotherhood

of Loyal Raccoons.

Honeymooners?
No? No one?

Collectors have a
community all their own.

To them, the value

isn't in the chunk
of wood itself.

It's what it means
to whoever wants it.

So what does it mean to the guy
who offered $25,000?

Well, for that much,

it has to mean getting
away with murder.

We traced the
call to a burn phone,

which makes Mr. $25,000
even more suspicious.

And Mrs. Keogh
is still looking

for the card of Earl something,
the guy who sold her the stick.

I left a message for Danielle

at the Pickers'
headquarters in Iowa.

She should be getting back to me
anytime soon.

So, who did this thing
kill, exactly?

What was the case?

Happened a long time ago,
before any of you were here.

- Young petty officer.
- Marvin Finn.

Was found dead with
blunt force wounds

in an alley in
Columbia Heights.

It was a bad neighborhood
in 2002.

A small wooden spike

was left embedded
in Finn's skull,

but neither Ducky or Abby
could ever link it

to a weapon or killer.

The last two
people to see Finn alive

were his girlfriend Jane
and his best friend Bill.

Lack of evidence or a motive
made them weak suspects at best.

Could Finn

be somehow connected

to this Esteemed Order
of Raccoons

- or whatevers?
- Doubtful.

I mean,
the last surviving members

of the Blue Guard
died off in the 1960s.

Yes, but could Finn

maybe be a descendant?

Grandfathered in somehow?

All right, there's
a loose connection somewhere.

Keep digging. Come on. Find it.

Yeah, took a while to find it.

You know, our evidence storage

is like one big old
museum of murder.

Hard to believe
something that small

could cause
so much damage.

Yeah.

I know, right?

Oh, kind of took over
your desk, didn't I?

Oh, no, no, no.
Kasie, it-it's fine. It's fine.

If you recall
from my notes, Kasie,

it was the blunt force injury
from the stick

that killed Petty Officer Finn
and not this spike.

A spike which, frankly,
is a lot larger

than some of the evidence
we collect.

I mean, most of it's
microscopic.

Microscopic?

That's where I come in,
literally.

Abby, you heard
the good news.

The great news.
And I can't believe it,

after all these years.

And you must be Kasie.
I'm Abby.

Hey. Hey, hi.

Hi.

Uh, so, rumor has it

you're working wonders
with Ducky's book.

Trying.

Oh, that-that reminds me.

Would it be possible
for Kasie to stay at your place

- for a couple of days?
- What? Doc, no.

I already got a motel

and would probably
get more done there, anyway.

Nuh-uh. No motel.

You are staying with me, lady.

No if, ands, or buts.
But...

Okay.

Aha.

You miss me?

Little bugger.
I knew we'd see you again.

I wish I had
your optimism, Abby,

but it seemed
this case was destined

to be stuck in my craw

for the rest of my days.

This one really had
you all stumped, huh?

Carbon dating I.D.'d this
as 900-year-old hickory.

And after that, yeah,
“stumped” would be the word.

Well, not anymore.

I mean, this-this one
is a total match, right?

Yeah, well, let's not
get ahead of ourselves.

Until we have
the actual war stick in hand,

we won't know for certain.

No counting our chickens, Jimmy.

I'm totally
counting my chickens.

What is that?

Oh, this?

This, my friend,
is my new stapler.

Oh, that thing is new?

Well, it's new to me.

Feel the weight of it.

It's like a...
like a Mack truck.

- They just don't make 'em like that anymore.
- Yeah.

Yeah.
Does this thing even work?

Oh, it works.

Listen to this.

Oh, yeah!
Mm-hmm.

Yeah, you know, I had no idea

what kind
of priceless old relics

you can find at these places.
Hmm.

How much you pay for that?
Eight dollars.

- Ooh, priceless.
- All right, thanks.

Okay, that was Danielle

at the American Pickers' base
in Iowa.

What? She called you and not me?
No, she called us,

but unlike you,
I spend time at my desk.

Okay, can we not start
with that again?

Anyway, Danielle said
that Mike Wolfe

is at a convention
somewhere in Annandale,

and he's got
the war stick with him.

- I'll call Gibbs to meet us there.
- Oh, no, no.

Allow us to call him
to meet us there.

Just spend a little more time
on your desk.

Yeah, you take it easy
and you send us the address.

You don't have to tell me that.

I got it.

All right,
here's the deal, guys.

I have absolutely no interest
in selling this piece,

because it's just been
too lucky for us.

Lucky how?

Well, Nordic sailors believed

this piece had mystical powers
way before the Blue Guard

ever claimed it as their own,
and since I've had this,

Frank and I have had some
incredible luck finding things.

And I'm just not willing
to break up that mojo yet.

We're gonna have
to break it for you,

since, uh, this stick
wasn't very lucky

for somebody 16 years ago.

Yeah, my office called and said
that you guys really believe

that somebody was killed with this thing.
- Only one way to find out.

Just please tell me we can
get this back if you're wrong,

'cause Danny's gonna be heartbroken.

Tell Danny
she doesn't have to worry.

We'll get this back to you as
soon as we're finished with it.

Wow.

Wow. This is...
This is a stick, all right.

It's pretty cool, huh?
Yeah.

Why would someone keep it
after killing somebody?

I mean, this is evidence.
I would toss it, burn it, right?

My guess is

somebody knew it had value.

Does that make
that someone a collector?

You know, collectors
are eccentric people,

but I've never
heard of anybody

getting killed
over a collectible.

Well, Mrs. Keogh

finally found the card of the
guy who sold her the stick.

Earl something's name
is actually Roy Baxter.

- Roy?
- You know him?

Of course. If you're in my
business, you know who Roy is.

This is a guy
that's been buying

and selling for years
at flea markets,

worked his way up

to an antique shop
in Falls Church.

Deals in anything
from typewriters to teakettles.

- Well, McGee's getting his address now.
- Yeah, go meet him.

Torres and I will take this
to Abby; she can look at it.

All right. Hey, let me say...
let me say good-bye to my baby.

I mean, I've got
history with this piece.

I've had it for a while,

and we spent some time
together, me and you.

Please tell me that you
didn't kill somebody.

It's been real.

Well, that was...

That was a nice good-bye.

Thanks, Mike.
Appreciate you.

Like the show.
Thank you.

Just got
to the antique shop, boss.

Haven't been able
to get ahold of the owner.

We'll let you know
what we find.

Who closes up
and leaves the lights on?

There's got to be a back door.

Yup, it's open.

Hello? Roy Baxter?

NCIS.

Hey, Bishop?

Think we found Baxter.

All right, Ducky and
Jimmy are on their way.

So Baxter locked the front
door, came out the back.

Dumped the trash.

He got ambushed.

Beaten to death
with a broken table leg.

Quite a way to go.

Money's still in the register,
but there's no way of telling

if any of the antiques
have been taken.

Security cameras?

Nope. None back here.

There's one inside, but
it's a really old model.

What I did find was
Baxter's appointment book.

There's a few names
in there from today.

Could one of them have sold
Baxter the war stick years ago?

Well, if so,
he obviously didn't want

Baxter telling anyone.

Ah. Is that the
antiques dealer?

Yeah.
Horrible.

Do you think it's the same
killer from 16 years ago?

Blunt force
with the Viking war stick,

and now a broken table leg.

If it's not the same guy, they
at least share a signature move.

Yes, bashing people to death
is quite a signature.

- I didn't say it was a good one.
- What about the stick?

- You satisfied it's a match?
- Quite.

It's looks to me as
if stick and spike

go together like two pieces
of a puzzle.

So help me, if there is
any evidence on this thing,

- I will find it.
- Yeah, the broken table leg

was already sent up
to your lab, Abby.

You'll find the evidence
a lot fresher.

Well, that means
I have a full day.

Let's go, Kasie.

Me? Go where?
To my lab.

Doesn't look like you're gonna
get much done down here.

Uh, she's right, Kasie.

You need the minimum
of distraction.

Uh, let me help you.
Are you coming, Abigail?

Um, you know what?
Uh, you guys go ahead,

and I'll meet you up there
in a few minutes.

So... you two hit it off?

Not quite yet.

Do you think Kasie's okay?

Okay? No, no, she's-she's great.

I mean, a little bit messy,

maybe a tad pushy
at first, but...

And shy.

Shy? No, not exactly.

In fact, I'd say she's got
just the right amount of moxie

to push Dr. Mallard
across the finish line.

- Moxie?
- Moxie! My grandpa's favorite word.

Well, I saw no moxie

when she stayed at my place
last night.

She barely even spoke to me.

By any chance, did you have
her sleep in your guest casket?

I don't have a guest casket.
I have a guest room, in which

she promptly shut the door to
and worked all night long.

And from that you get shy?

What else would it be?

I don't know, scared,
apprehensive, intimidated?

By me?

Jimmy, please. Like
that's even possible.

I'll win her over.

As only you can.
That's right.

As only... I...

Intimidated?

You've got to be kidding me.

Figures.

Antique shop with an
antique surveillance system.

Yeah, a broken
antique surveillance system.

The camera's supposed to take
a photo every five seconds.

This is closer to 15.

It's all we got.
Click faster.

Who is that guy?

Ooh. Well,
doesn't seem too friendly.

Oh, make that
downright hostile.

You got a name, Nick?
Yeah, Baxter's last appointment

was at 6:30 p.m.
Clarence Wyatt.

Oh.

Well,
somehow I don't think

this was an appointment kind
of meeting. And he's gone.

There's no Clarence Wyatts
in Falls Church,

but I got one in D.C.
Bishop, Torres, go.

Uh, McGee, send us the address?

Okay, you really got
to stop telling me that.

McGee, send a picture
of him, too.

You got it, boss.

Whoa! Hey, Jethro.

Oh, Agent Gibbs. Sorry.

Am I lost?
It depends.

You're looking
for Autopsy?

No. Abby's lab.
I moved.

One floor down,
and you're there.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Yeah.

Why Abby's lab?

Doc and Jimmy were about to
autopsy that antique dealer.

Not my thing.

First dead body?

No, I-I've seen one before.

Anyway, long story.

Too long.

I was told not to
waste your time.

Who told you that?
Everybody.

The same everybody
who said you sometimes leave

without saying good-bye.

No. No, no, no.

Yeah. Sure,
that's me. So what?

What's this about?

Mm, maybe it's about this
gun you're waving around?

You mean the gun
I was purchasing?

- Uh-uh.
- Whoa. - Oh, chill.

It's not loaded.

Probably hasn't been
since Patton fired it.

Patton as in...
General George Patton?

Yeah, this is one of his beloved
pearl-handled Colts.

And a nice complement
to my Churchill whiskey glass,

my FDR cigarette holder,

my Jackie Robinson mitt.

This stuff reminds me
of my roots, you know?

Keeps me humble.
Plus, my clients love it.

Here's a silly question.

If you bought
that from Baxter,

why was he so unhappy afterward?

Like any self-respecting
financial genius,

I talked him down.

And as far as I know,
I still overpaid.

Ask him.
Only Baxter knows for sure.

Well, we would,
except Baxter's dead.

Dead? I just saw him.

They jumped him in the alley
after closing.

Beat him to death.

- That's terrible.
- It is.

You were one of
his last customers.

Did you see anything suspicious?

I wish I had.

That neighborhood, I tell you.

Such a good guy.

Let me know if I can help
in any way down the road.

And yes, that is titanium.

Actually, you can.

You know anything about this?
What is it?

Some kind of a cavemen thing?
A movie prop?

Something like that. Say...

is that something
you would pay 25 grand for?

25?

No. Maybe if it was swung

by Raquel Welch
in One Million Years B.C.

Even then, I'd only
give it a-a grand maybe.

Otherwise, it's just
an ugly chunk of wood.

Thank you.

My sentiments exactly.

Thanks.
No problem.

I just wanted
to see it in person.

It's not the prettiest
good-luck charm, is it?

I prefer horseshoes
or ladybugs.

Any update on the case?

No game-changers yet.

- I'm still waiting on Major Mass Spec.
- Oh.

Excuse me.
Uh, I know it's not my place,

but may I ask a question?

Absolutely, yes.

I'm sure you've
researched all of this already,

but out of curiosity,
I DM'd my network

about this
Order of the Blue Guard.

And my girl Cheryl in Tucson--
she's an anthropologist--

and she went over to the library

and scanned over
the most amazing book to me.

- That's an amazing friend.
- Oh, I'm blessed with a lot of them.

Well, did you know
that an actual exhibit

of Blue Guard stuff
made the museum rounds

for years after they folded up?

Stuff including
the “one-of-a-kind” war stick.

Their words, not mine.

Where was the
exhibit's last stop?

Doesn't say, but when
the tour ended in 1983,

the collection went into a
private museum storage facility

- in Fairfax, Virginia.
- Wait.

So you're saying the Viking
war stick is in storage?

I'm not saying it.

The American Registry
of Fraternal Organizations is.

They even have pictures.

So, if this
one-of-a-kind Viking war stick

is in storage...?

Then why is it
right there?

Welcome to Row 613.

I really should get
down here more.

Crate 92 holds the
Blue Guard exhibit.

Whoa. Where to begin?

Or we could just start
with the one

that says “Viking war stick.”

Huh. Nothing.

Excuse me?

It's empty.
There's nothing in it.

How can that be?

At least now we know
we have the real thing.

I see security cameras.

They only store
up to six months.

Hey, what do you
make of this?

It's blood spatter.

Looks more black than red.
It's old blood.

Guessing about
16 years old.

Which makes this
the original scene of the crime.

Is your Mack truck available?

Sure, just let me
back her out of the garage.

Hey, guys,
where's Gibbs?

Conference room.

He's with Petty Officer Finn's
old girlfriend.

Why? What's up?

The blood...

No.

No, no, no!

Don't tell me...

Really? You killed
another one?

Me?

They're your papers.
You're a jinx.

Don't blame my papers.

You were saying?

How do you open this thing?

The blood spatter samples
that you found

at the storage facility,
they were a match

to Petty Officer Finn.
Oh, yeah. We figured.

How did Finn's body
end up miles away?

Well, the storage facility's
big enough

to drive a car or van into,

so getting a body out
wouldn't be that hard,

unlike this stupid...

Oh. Oh.

Just...
It just needed staples.

So, if I recall,

the last two people
to see Finn alive

never mentioned
a storage facility.

I mean, didn't they know
he was going there?

I'm gonna check on that
with Gibbs.

Yeah, and I'll
check with McGee

and see if he needs help
tracking down

Finn's buddy Bill.

Hey. I was just
coming to see you.

Oh, really?
'Cause you were my next stop.

Well, it was meant
to be. You first. Go.

Um, lollipops.
Can I borrow some?

Always. Come.
Whatever you want.

Okay, your turn.

Well, I just wanted
to check in on you.

You seemed a little--
I don't know-- off before.

Maybe something
to do with Kasie?

It is about Kasie.

And I'm more than
a little off.

Why? She seems
so smart and sweet.

She does not like me.
What?

She doesn't talk to me,
she doesn't look at me.

You couldn't tell?

No, not at all.

Nor can I imagine
anyone not liking you, Abby.

Everybody doesn't
just click right away.

I do.

I click.

And so does she.

She has a network, Jack.

Like, a whole collection

of amazing friends
that do stuff like

scan books for her.

I mean, does that sound
like someone who doesn't click?

Just give her another shot.

Oh, I intend to.
Lollipops.

Oh, I see. The lollipops,
they're for Kasie.

Yeah. I mean, maybe I didn't
give her a proper welcome.

I'm gonna help you pick out
the exact right color for her.

Look at us.

Oh, we were babies.

All these years later
and I've never quite shaken

this sick feeling
since Finn was killed.

Something you never get over.

Finn never mentioned this...
museum storage place to you?

Never. Are you sure it was
his blood you found there?

Yeah.

We are now.

God, Finn hardly went
to museums,

let alone a place like that.

Have your original statement.

Wasn't much to it.

Finn went out to meet
his buddy Bill for a beer.

Bill was always having
girl trouble.

And the next time I saw Finn

was on one of your autopsy
tables downstairs.

His buddy Bill said they
parted ways at 10:00 p.m.,

after their beer.

What does Bill say now?

What's the deal?
Why the hot seat?

Not your first interrogation,
Mr. Lester?

You said this was about
Finn, and I came willingly.

I want nothing more than
to have this burden lifted.

The guilt I carry
around my whole life.

Guilt?

Yeah, thinking if only
I'd seen Finn home safely,

stayed with him
after we had that beer.

That beer. Where was that again?

Place isn't there anymore.

Look, what is this?

You guys said that
you had some new developments.

We do.

We contacted your
old base, and it seems

your buddy Finn was off-duty
the night he died,

while you were somehow listed
as very much on-duty.

They said that?

Yes, they did.
You even drew a special detail.

Delivering artifacts
from the Naval Academy Museum

in Annapolis to a museum
storage facility in Fairfax.

The same facility

we just found Finn's blood.

Wait, what?

You... you found his blood?

Yeah, and that
makes no sense,

'cause how could you meet Finn
for a beer

and be on duty that night,
making a delivery,

all at the same damn time?

Look...

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

What are you
so sorry about?

I didn't kill him, okay?

But I didn't meet him
for a beer either.

Okay. What did you do?

I asked Finny to cover my shift,
so I could see my girl.

It was the only night
she could see me.

Why didn't you say that
16 years ago?

For the same reason Finn
didn't tell his girlfriend Jane

where he was really going.

You know? To protect me.

Protect you from what?

The girl I was seeing...

She was our C.O.'s wife.

If I told the truth
about that and it got out,

it would ruin her life
and my life

and, God, our C.O.'s life...

Like it ended Finn's life?

I didn't see
any possible connection.

The-the delivery
was in Fairfax.

Finn was found in
Columbia Heights.

I mean, those two places
are light-years apart.

About 20 miles.

Look, please,

believe me.

You say Finn's... blood
was at the storage place?

If I'd have known that,
I-I would've told the truth.

I swear I would've.

All right,
you want to make up for it?

You tell us everything
that you know

about this delivery detail.

Who else was on it?

Look, all I remember
is my orders were

to transport stuff
from the Navy Museum.

And that I'd be picked up
by a guy delivering other stuff

from a museum in Philly,
uh, Reconnaissance Hall?

What guy?
Some guy.

I don't know. A civilian.

Uh, again, I-I wasn't there.

Finn was.

Damn fool.
Why didn't he tell us?

Have we got our killer?

No. Just a liar.

Oh. Okay. Well,
in that case,

how much do you guys know
about antique firearms?

That would depend.

What do we got?
Not us.

That obnoxious billionaire,
Clarence Wyatt.

Guy with
Patton's pearl-handled Colt?

So, we dug up the receipts
from the antique shop

the night Baxter was killed.

Wyatt paid $15,000.

Doesn't that sound
like an awful lot?

Not if it
once belonged to Patton.

Well, that provenance
would indeed raise the price.

That is where
it gets weird.

Gets weird?
Now it gets weird?

So, Baxter's catalog
lists it only

as a World War Two-era
Colt revolver.

Not one word
about Patton.

Which is not the sort of detail
you leave out.

So either Baxter lied
to Wyatt about the Colt

or Wyatt lied
to us about it.

Why would he do that?

Yeah, you're quite right, Kasie.

This chapter will now require
a complete rewrite.

Well, I never said
“complete,” Doc.

We-we don't have time
for complete.

Besides, you write
about two other unsolved cases

in that chapter,
and that's plenty.

Yeah, but this current case
is by far the most intriguing,

rendering most if not all
the rest of the chapter

utterly moot.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

No. No crumpling, Doc.

Do not crumple.

Okay, we will deliver
this baby as written,

on time, and uncrumpled.

Along with a proposal.

A proposal?

Yeah, for an entirely
new chapter dedicated solely

to this insane case.

I mean, think of it.

War sticks, that-that
collector show.

We don't even know the
outcome of this yet,

and this could end up
your best chapter of all.

You got that?

You can be quite
an acquired taste, Kasie.

Has anyone ever told you that?

Only every teacher, coach and
relationship that I've ever had.

Yes, well, allow me to express

how grateful I am
to have acquired it.

Mwah.

Okay, now go. Go.

I have
too much work to do.

That... was... awesome.

Seriously.

I mean, it took
Jimmy, like, years

to stand up to
Ducky like that.

It's what he hired me to do.

Hey, Abby, you sure you
want all this down here?

There's plenty of space
up in the evidence garage.

Um, that's fine.

Oh, right
by Mass Spec.

Yeah. I get it.

Oh! When I say “Jimmy,”
you say “Hey!”

Jimmy!
Crazy Kasie!

Okeydoke.
Okay.

Okay, yeah.

It's all good, then?

Yeah.

Oh, return of the Mack.

Out of the drawer and,
uh, on full display.

You get it to work again?

It's the best paperweight ever.

It only takes antique staples,

so I had to order more
from a dealer in Zurich,

and they will be here next week.

Once again, priceless.

Rich guy.

What do we know?

Well, we know he's our guy.

Clarence Wyatt, 38.

CEO of Red Eagle
Financial.

He's an investment whiz
who, as far as we can tell,

made his fortune
running a hedge fund.

Born and raised
in Philadelphia,

he is a true
rags-to-riches story.

You heard her
say Philly, home of

the Reconnaissance Hall Museum.
- Yeah. Got that. What else?

Out of high school,
Wyatt worked a few odd jobs,

and one of them was as a driver
for a trucking company

that specializes in delivery
of fine furnishings and artwork.

You guys want to know
how long ago that was?

16 years?

At long last, Jethro, we might
finally have the answer.

Oh, what else do we need?

We have any specific record

of Wyatt delivering
from the museum in Philly

to our storage space?
Well, not specifically.

- Then all we have is circumstantial.
- Wait a minute.

Wyatt gave me his business card.

And, yes... it is titanium.

Touch DNA.
It might have some.

Well, if it does,
we must match it

to anything this fellow
Wyatt may have touched

in these crates
on the night

that Petty Officer
Finn was murdered.

I will do my best.
And as quickly as possible.

If Jethro and I can't
coax a confession

out of this scoundrel, we will
need definitive evidence.

You got it.

Um, there's at least, like,
30 more pieces here.

I think I'm gonna see
if, um, Jimmy can help me.

He might have gone home
already, but...

Oh, what about Kasie?

- What?
- Kasie?

Well, she graduated
in forensic science.

Her degree is in

forensic science.

Ducky, why didn't
you tell me this?

Kasie, why didn't you tell her?

Because she hasn't
told me anything.

She doesn't talk to me.
Yes, I do.

Yes, she does.

- She talks to everybody.
- No.

She doesn't.

What did I do?

You didn't do anything.

- Then what is your problem with me?
- I don't have

a problem with you...
- No, no, no. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Kasie, put on a lab coat,
scrub up and then, by all means,

continue this suddenly
excruciating conversation

while you work together,

but out of my purview.

Um, okay,
these we ran already.

Those we ran.
These are next.

And we're talking.

We were never not talking.

You were not
talking to me.

Well, it wasn't intentional, and
it certainly had nothing to do

with me having any
problem with you.

I mean, quite the opposite.

Opposite of what?

I don't know. Um...

Working on Doc's book, I learned
about you and what you do here,

researched a little bit more,
and you just...

You're like the Beatles,
you know?

The Beatles?

Yeah, the best at this,
doing what I want to be doing.

And meeting you, I...
guess I'm just a fan.

A fan?

I freaked out.

I-I just froze. I...

Believe me, I was as
surprised as anyone.

Well, how do you feel now?

I mean, now we're just talking
and getting to know each other.

Kasie?

What is that?

What is what?

Under the splinter.

Is that what
I think it is?

I think...

...it is.

And now I'm hugging the Beatles
and freaking out all over again!

Highly entertaining, gentlemen.

I mean, yeah,
I once drove a truck in Philly.

Hell, I'm proud of
my blue-collar roots.

But delivering from one museum
to some storage place,

with this Navy kid? What...?

What did you
say his name was?

Petty Officer Marvin Finn.

Doesn't remotely ring a bell.

Granted that was a lifetime ago.

Beauty, isn't it?

Patton's baby.

Want to give it a spin?

No. No, I'm good.

So... if there's nothing else...

You paid a lot for that.

Yeah, I believe I discussed that
with the agents earlier today.

15 Gs, it wasn't even Patton's.

Come again?

You overpaid
for Baxter's silence.

When he said no,
or you weren't convinced,

you waited out behind his shop
and you ambushed him.

Whoa, what are you saying?

What was I buying silence
for exactly?

This.

Oh, that thing again.

That thing was in
the storage space.

So was Petty Officer
Finn, so were you.

And what was I doing there
exactly?

Stealing,

anything of value,

until Petty Officer Finn
tried to stop you.

Which is when you stopped him.

Same way you stopped Baxter
yesterday.

Yeah, you then threw Finn
into the back of your truck

and dumped him
miles away

in the worst neighborhood
you could find.

You sold the stick to Baxter.

You were home free.

Okay, you know what?

You lost me.

I'm no longer entertained.

Hold that thought.

Yeah, Abbs.
What do you got?

Gibbs, we found skin.

One itty bitty,
beautiful sliver of skin

under a splinter
of wood.

Mm-hmm. And?

And it matches the DNA
on Wyatt's titanium card.

I suggest you and your

sidekick show yourselves out.

So we got him, huh?

Oh, we got him.

You got what?

Here.

My full written statement.

You happy now?

No, Wyatt.

Actually, not yet.

I just got to know, man.

Why didn't you throw away
that ugly stick?

I guess I should have.

You guess?

You turn a chunk of wood
into a murder weapon.

Why didn't you just bury it,
burn it?

That ugly stick
started everything.

Baxter gave me
two grand for it,

which I parlayed
into two billion.

That talisman stuff is real.

That was one lucky
chunk of wood.

Not anymore.

Not anymore.

Well, better late
than never.

And so much
better together.

And really well done, Kasie.

No, don't try to
butter me up, Doc.

You write your proposal yet?

I've been a little preoccupied.

That's putting it mildly.

Can we focus
on your book again?

You will have
my complete attention.

We have three days.
Move those Duck feathers.

Let's go.

Holy moly.

I'm flattered, Gibbs.

I finally made it
to your inner sanctum.

It's a basement.

I'm not even gonna
ask about that.

Unless that's what
you wanted to show me.

No.

Ah.

Is this your collection?

Yeah, I just thought
you'd appreciate it.

You fought a war.
Sure not the same war.

But, uh, it's a wonderful
time capsule.

Takes you back to
a time, a place.

Person?

My dad's.

It's his old, um, razor.

They sure don't make 'em
like that anymore, huh?

No.

No, they do not.

They do not, which makes
finding parts for them

hard as hell,
I can tell you that.

But I got lucky the other day.

Yeah, you did.

Bingo. Bingo.
That's better.

Lot better.

And cool as hell.

How much is something like that
worth to a collector, you think?

Not much.

How about to you?

The steaks are burning.

Oh, yeah, yeah. I smell that.

Oh, good catch.
Yeah.

I like mine medium-rare.
Are you like a well guy?

Ah.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man