Original subtitles

The USS Archer served valiantly during World War II.

Here in the engine room, life was grueling, hot, cramped, and filled with

dangers. Hey, Dad, did you hear? This ship was in the war.

Oh, yeah?

Amazing. Over here, Dad.

This is the engine order telegraph. It can stop the entire ship in a crisis.

That's great, honey.

Don't touch anything.

This whole place is covered in grease.

Ryan, look out!

Are you okay?

That was awesome.

That was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

The tour said it hid in dangers.

No kidding.

This place is a death trap.

best exhibit ever.

Hey, morning.

Oh,

come on.

What's wrong?

This.

Not so special delivery?

It's from my mom.

Is that bad?

She's on a wellness kick. She thinks my job is too unhealthy.

Well, she's not wrong.

What? You're not going to open it?

I love my mom. Just not the meal subscription trial she keeps sending.

All kale. All the time.

Kale is good for you.

So is tetanus shot.

You know, you could open it and then toss it.

Nope. And no dumpster diving, McGee.

I gave you a dollar to open it. No, I gave you a tan for some kale.

I'm hungry.

Well, you better pack your lunch. You're going on a field trip.

Where to?

Got a body on a museum ship.

Please tell me it's not the Constellation or the Torsk or, God

W. Brown.

You have a museum ship ranking system?

You don't?

The USS Archer hasn't seen this much action since Guadalcanal. You have this

ship memorized too?

We read it off the plaque on our way in. We're fine.

More childhood trauma. 29 ships went down in the Battle of Guadalcanal.

Archer barely survived.

The victim wasn't so lucky.

You got an ID?

Yeah. Retired Navy Captain Miles Griffin worked here on the ship as the

collections manager.

I'm going to put a bolo out for Albino Monk.

Body. Museum.

Guy, the Da Vinci Code.

Jimmy, time of death?

1 a .m. last night.

Cause? Preliminarily, I would say this was blunt force trauma to the head.

like our victim dressed the wound himself.

Suggests that he survived the initial blow.

Maybe he escaped his attacker and then hid in here.

This isn't the initial crime scene.

Towards the sweep and the rest of the ship, I'll go check in with him.

For a retired Navy.

It's a deal with the Marine Corps coat.

Marine coat that seems like it's three sizes too big.

Does the museum have a uniform exhibit?

Uh, yes. On the second deck.

I'm sorry. I'm Nora Ankrum. Griff's assistant.

Griff? Everyone called him that.

He was a good friend.

Mentor. I just can't believe he's gone.

When did you see him last?

About ten.

Last night he was on a call with a military antiquities dealer in Okinawa.

Did Griff usually work late?

He lived here.

Dedicated? Yes, but I mean he actually lived here. No apartment, just kept

a bed in his office.

Oh, this is the initial crime scene.

Looks like we found our murder weapon. It would appear our museum curator was

attacked in his own office.

Let me guess, not a computer guy?

Griff never liked anything he couldn't touch and feel.

Kept a journal.

Is that some kind of coat?

No, more like a custom shorthand.

Everything Griff owned is in that cabinet.

Pretty modest.

Sentimental. He kept one item to represent each year of his life.

Whatever meant the most to him that year.

His way of remembering.

Something's missing here.

Look at this.

Those marks are about the size of a service medal.

I have an idea where it might be.

Take a look at that.

Well, service medals are supposed to be pinned above the left pocket.

So that one's wrong.

Not wrong.

Deliberate. I think our victim took this medal from his office and pinned it

here himself.

Well, if he grabbed it before he died, maybe this is the Da Vinci Code.

Crew, symbols.

Maybe our victim was trying to tell us who killed him. Marine coat, marine

medal. Killed by a Marine.

No idea.

But he was definitely trying to tell us something.

Keep what safe?

What is it?

All right, thank you.

Okay, Griffin's grandson, Kevin, is on his way in. He is the only living

relative.

All right, let me see him. Just finish your inventory. Nothing is missing from

the ship.

We need Captain Miles Griffin, retired in 2012, been curating the museum ever

since. See, no debts, tiny pension, one checking account with four grand in it,

no cars, no house. The guy lived like a monk. Yeah, a monk who deals in

antiques.

Maybe Griffin found the valuable piece and the killer was after it.

And then Griffin refused to hand it over, the killer got violent, and then

Griffin managed to escape and leave a clue.

Well, if it was that important, why not just call the police?

Uh, because Indiana Jones never called the police.

What? I thought we were doing Da Vinci Code.

Well, it's both now.

We're looking for a killer, Jess. We're not treasure hunting.

What, you got proof?

Still working on that part.

Second thoughts about opening it? Could be treasure.

Yeah, I've got the real thing to dig for.

If our victim did leave something behind, it's got to be something big.

You know, I wouldn't bet on it.

My grandfather, Lolo Griff, he wasn't an actual treasure.

Even when I was a kid.

My grandfather always had some kind of knick -knack, a trinket, just to show

off. That was his love language.

He loved stuff.

He own any stuff of value?

Of value? No, no, no. I mean, no offense.

Anything he ever had was just junk.

He ever mention anything that he wanted to pass down or keep safe?

He left behind some kind of clue trail, didn't he?

We're exploring possibilities.

Wow, don't bother following it.

Could lead us to his killer.

Christmas Day, I was eight.

Lolo Griff says that he's got a secret gift.

We just have to find it.

So he sends us on this wild search to follow all these cryptic clues that he's

planted all over the neighborhood.

And eventually, that trail.

It led right back home.

So we burst through the door all excited and we say, Lolo, Lolo Griff, Lolo

Griff, where's the gift? Where's the secret gift?

And he leans over the dinner table and he says, there's no greater gift

than a meal with family.

That's kind of sweet.

Not for an eight -year -old.

My grandfather is leading you to something. It won't be what you're

Blue, maybe red, maybe both.

Oh, that'll fix.

That is a very scientific diagnosis.

Sorry, Casey makes the book easy.

Well, she entered Church Island.

Quantum optics conference.

She spent weeks.

training me to cover her lab, so, you know, please don't let me screw this up.

Oh, relax. You're doing fine.

So for officially out -of -hidden messages, no invisible ink, no alternate

spectrum, no infrared.

Do you mind if I... You

called, Curtis?

Right. Yeah.

Blood from the crime scene and the murder weapon all belong to the victim.

Fingerprints in the dried blood.

Also his.

But... I did pull a parcel print off our naughty nautical souvenir.

No hits yet.

But they will come.

Hopefully.

If you find a map with an X on it, I'm retiring.

Yeah.

This is painful.

The victim had no life outside of this museum.

Nothing here but purchase orders and research notes.

There's no people.

You know, nothing personal.

Oh, that's rough.

We cleared Alvarez's office. At least he had some family photos there, you know.

Yeah, you could tell what mattered.

Well, not with Griffin.

Tell you something else, too. Future generations will only get organized hard

drives from me. Not only will they know who I was, it will all be text

searchable. I mean, that is if they can crack your passwords.

But you, you passing down any heirlooms?

No, man. My family left Colombia with only what we could carry.

Dictators make it hard to protect history.

Wait a minute.

This pile is very personal.

It's all letters from a B. Lipton.

Definitely not fan mail.

Griffin had an enemy?

Look at that. What are you doing right there?

You don't deserve it. It belongs to me.

I wonder if that's the same it that needs protecting.

Hey, B, smell.

Perfume? Oh, well, B Lipton is Bethany Lipton, the director of acquisitions at

the National Museum of Art.

Well, that makes for competition.

You know, whatever it is, they were both fighting over it.

Ah, here's some time. I was about to close the history book on our dead

How's it end?

Tragically. As I suspected, Captain Griffin was attacked less than an hour

before he died from blunt force trauma.

So our victim was hit, came to, and then used what little time he had left to

lay out a clue trail instead of, you know, calling 911.

Well, at least the early chapters of his story are still here.

Yes, if one can crack the code.

Did one?

Kind of.

Each passage uses a slightly different shorthand, and it's all coded, except

the dates and numbers.

Okay, so here's how it works.

The trinkets in Griffin's curio cabinet are all linked to a year in his life,

and each one of those is linked to a passage in this journal. So, you know,

medal that we found on the Marine Corps coat, that was dated 1946.

That gave me a starting point, and from there, I cracked 10 pages.

Pretty easily. How easily?

Well, I'm very good at puzzles.

Or Griffin wanted us reading this.

What's so special about 1946?

Nothing. Actually, the medal isn't about that year at all. No, it actually

points to 1976, when our victim befriended a Marine major

named Kirby.

Kirby, that name sounds familiar.

Ah, yeah, here we go.

Reoccurring payments from the museum to a James Kirby, $600 a month. No

explanation what it's for.

Found him. Major James Kirby, U .S. Marines, German Occupation Service,

War II. Died in 1982.

But these payments didn't start until 2020.

And the money's still being sent every month to an apartment in Falls Church.

Why pay a man who's been dead for nearly 50 years?

Check it out, Indy.

I get the money on time every month and pays for the basement room down here.

Is anyone staying in this room?

No one.

I haven't seen a soul since the lease I signed six years ago.

Well, thank you. We've got it from you.

Didn't the museum pay for this room?

There's treasure in here. I can feel it.

What do we have here?

Maybe the treasure is behind the secret panel.

Okay, you see?

My bad.

You'd make a terrible archaeologist.

What? Why?

Because you won't dig.

Or even notice the incredibly obvious.

Told you, I could feel it.

Whatever it is, it was worth dying to protect.

There are no prints on the box or the bones. Curtis is still working on it.

Casey's going to be mad if she missed treasure hunts and mystery bones.

Curtis thinks that it might be a human tibia or femur.

Some religious relic from the Holy Land.

It had to belong to somebody important.

Why else would Griffin spend so many years trying to keep it safe?

One man's trash.

Or one woman's.

Okay. Fine.

Just because my mom went through all the trouble.

I'm telling you, it's just going to be more kale.

Sprout dolls.

My uncle confiscated these from us when we were kids.

He said if I didn't stop playing with them at the dinner table that I would

never see them again.

I guess you win.

Yeah. He passed away last year. I guess my mom finally went through his stuff.

Yeah, Curtis.

I don't recognize these.

Are you...

You collected sugar sprouts?

Yes, and?

Is that Sunbird Sally?

The one that changes color in the sun?

They didn't sell that doll in the stores.

Well, seems like somebody else was the collector.

No, my sister.

She, um, had me clipping UPCs for years trying to find that one.

Fifty bucks.

Cash. Don't lowball me, mixed sugar sprout.

Playtime's over. We got a fingerprint hit.

I didn't kill Miles Griffin.

Well, Miss Lipton, we have some fairly heated letters between the two of you.

And your prints are on the murder weapon.

Early 18th century.

Nautical sextant.

Of course my fingerprints are on it. I sold it to Griff Museum last month.

And how about the letters?

Seems like the two of you were after something else.

We took our work seriously, Agent Knight.

Even as rivals.

Rivalries can get heated.

Things only got heated when I wanted.

So you and him... Why do you think he kept all those letters?

He adored our friction.

But he was all business.

I do not kill people over a find.

How about over a bone?

Is that why Griff was killed?

So you know about it.

Griff liked to brag about a particular find of his.

A dinosaur bone.

I assumed it was just pillow talk.

Until a man called me asking about it a few days ago.

About a dinosaur bone.

A collector named Fabian Drucker.

So Drucker wanted to buy it.

Things don't have to be made of gold to be valuable.

Just how valuable are we talking here?

I could appraise the item for you.

Amazing.

You don't see something like this every day.

Well, that's why you're here.

to give us some background and to tell us that this is worth killing over.

Definitely not Griff's usual lane.

Dinobones don't exactly scream naval history, but he did like wandering off

map. Mid -Lake Cretaceous, right?

Did a little archaeology homework.

Looks like a bipedal metatarsal.

Hard to believe, isn't it?

What am I missing here? This bone is from a spinosaurus.

It's kind of a big deal.

Literally.

Spinosaurus bones are rare to begin with, but this one, truly one of a kind.

The kind worth dying over?

Considering its pristine condition and scientific value.

I'm talking dollar value.

A large museum or research foundation could pay several million

easily.

Huh. That's an elliptic story check down, according to Graves' date book.

The MBO hooked up a lot.

Could be more reason to kill.

Well, except Miss Lipton's alibi checks out as well. Turns out that she was at a

gala event the night of the murder.

What about our prospective bone buyer?

Fabian Druker, in the country on a travel visa, currently staying at the

-Carlton. Druker.

Name rings a bell?

Austrian family, big -time Nazi supporters during World War II.

They tried to rehab their name, spent decades.

Philanthropy, endowments, famous art collection.

Hmm. Griffin had lunch with FT there before he was killed.

Let's go with Fabian Druger.

I had lunch with Mr. Griffin at a rather gloomy cafe downtown that didn't serve

Kopi Lovak.

The fact that you Americans think you're drinking coffee is a crime.

So is murder.

A shame.

He was a nice man.

Why did Griffin contact you?

Oh, you know, he had a piece that he thought my family would appreciate.

A dinosaur bone, not our usual fare.

He wanted to sell the bone?

Yes. So I called Miss Lipton to see if his query was worth my time.

You know, Bethany and I have worked together before.

Hmm. So, uh, you and her?

She'd never seen the fossil, but she vouched for Griffin, so we met.

He spoke to me about the piece, but it did not interest me. I passed.

Million -dollar, one -of -a -kind artifact didn't interest you?

Griffin refused to show me the piece.

I'm not going to make an offer on something I've never seen before.

So... We said goodbye and never spoke again.

Until you come back the next night.

Excuse me? You're the only person that Griffin contacted about the phone. Maybe

he changed his mind about selling, so... You broke in and killed him for it.

In addition to coffee, you don't know your current events.

I keep these for my mother.

The Smithsonian Spring Gala.

The night Griffin was killed, 200 people can verify that I was the life of the

party, including Miss Lipton.

Well, that's convenient for both of you.

Well, is there anything else?

Not right now.

But, uh, you want to stay in the country.

My dad had a Mustang just like this. It was a little bit bigger.

65, skylight blue.

Bet all the girls wanted a ride.

Including my mom.

But hey, the rest is Palmer family history.

Let's talk our victim's history. Right. Well, Griffin's assistant, Nora, helped

me to date all the items from Griffin's cabinet, which in turn helped me to

decode the rest of his journal.

This man's life rivals even Dr.

Mallard's, if I may say so.

The journal also gives insight to our mystery bone, something that Griffin was

truly obsessed with.

Obsessed enough to die for. Yeah. According to the journal, the bone was a

from Major Kirby, his mentor.

Apparently, Kirby found it buried in a pile of rubble when he was stationed

-war Germany.

Did the journal mention a collector named Fabian Drucker? As in the Austrian

Druckers? Yeah.

Griffin called them about selling the fossil.

Selling it? I don't think so, no.

Griffin spent years tracing his history. He followed the bone across borders,

wars, owners.

He kept coming back to the same idea.

History isn't meant to be buried.

He also wrote about a moral obligation to return the bone to its rightful

Hello? Agent Parker?

You in there?

What's up, Curtis? I've got news.

And a problem.

So, I dug deeper into our dino bone.

The density felt wrong for something that's been around 100 million years. At

first, I blamed surface erosion and UV exposure, but... Skip the science, I

I didn't want to carve up a price with artifacts, so I skimmed a whisper -thin

sample using fine -grade sandpaper, ran it through math spec.

Ready for a plot twist?

Not a dinosaur bone?

Not a bone at all.

Calcium, sulfate, hemohydrate.

Plaster?

It's a cast.

Museum quality, to be sure, but anyone with museum hands would know.

Fake. Nora.

Either she's surprisingly bad at her job, or she lied to us.

Our victim would have known it was a fake bone. Why die to protect it?

Well, if it's a cast, it must mean there's an original.

Though there's a real bone out there somewhere.

Well, it's looking like Nora killed to get it.

Well, she already left the Navy Yard, and her phone is turned off.

Great. Our killer lied and then disappeared.

Danke schön.

Okay, newsflash. The Drucker clan is broke.

That was a bank in Zurich. The family has nothing but tax debts and crumbling

castles. So, if Drucker wanted that bone, he was not planning on buying it.

But he had an alibi for the murder.

I mean, he could have hired somebody else to steal the real thing.

If there even is a real thing. Doesn't matter. Someone thinks there is.

And if Nora believes that the real bone is still out there, she'd look for

another clue trail to find.

Thank you.

That was the museum.

Nora just called in sick.

Maybe she already found the next clue.

How?

She was here all day.

Exactly.

I'm sorry, Agent Parker, but we never took our eyes off her.

We wouldn't have let Nora do anything bad right under our noses. She only had

access to what we already had, the fake bone, the knickknacks. Right.

Nora's role was... Strictly informational.

Helping us decode the journal. That's nothing more.

What else did the journal say?

Well, like I said, it had Griffin's history, the bone's history, his mission

return the bone to its rightful owner.

All things he'd want anyone who found the real bone to know.

The grandson said Grandpa Griff likes to teach lessons.

You think the journal contains a second clue trail?

No, Irma. It's a code of something that we missed.

Get everything down to the garage, now.

Well, I don't know why our victim hated computers.

So much less mess and digital.

Somewhere in this mess is Griffin's next clue.

Which is why I have digitized every knick -knack and journal entry.

is tag -dated and text searchable.

For example, this 1965 Mustang convertible actually represents 1993.

Which is the year that his wife died.

The journal says that they spent their final weeks cruising around town in

own Mustang with the top down.

Every item here tells a story. Which one tells us where our killer went?

I'm not sure.

Plus, there are three items from the cabinet that we can't connect to any

journal entry. Nora disappeared because she saw something that we don't.

Or she has something that we don't.

Knowledge of Griffin.

She knows how he thinks.

And we know he had one item for every year of his life.

Has anyone actually counted the number of items?

One second, one second.

Okay, total of 66 items.

Griffin only lived to 63.

The three items that we can't match.

They don't belong.

Maybe that's on purpose.

The journal never mentioned gardening shovel, bar of soap, or a chestnut.

All right, start with the chestnut.

Okay, Chestnut is mentioned only one time in the journal.

It's in a poem that Griffin wrote to his daughter when she was seven.

This the chosen place, along the rocky creek, a walk o 'er top beach's bridge,

dig below our chestnut's peak.

Beach road.

There's a beach road in Rock Creek Park. That could be the same thing.

Nora could have thought that the poem was a map leading her there.

Taurus, with me.

Wait, but I... You and McGee head back to the museum.

Yeah, yeah, I know, in case Nora doubles back. Got it.

I look pretty disappointed that she was hoping for a treasure.

So am I, but only the kind you can put in handcuffs.

Oh, no sign of Nora.

Well, she's been here.

She's been digging.

Maybe Nora's already found whatever was hidden.

Maybe she didn't know where to look.

Check it out.

Seriously?

X marks the spot?

No, maybe Knight was right.

We need to dig.

Arms, doors are all unlocked.

I don't think we're alone here.

This place is like a maze.

I hope you read a plaque with a map.

Oh yeah, definitely not alone.

Nora came back to search.

What, uh, thinks you found anything?

That's what scares me.

And now, I'm also scared of that.

Could the shovel be any smaller?

No, no. This is all wrong.

Yeah, I'm the only one digging.

We shouldn't be digging at all. The fossil's not here.

Well, what about the clues?

The journal just dragged us all here.

It did, but not for the treasure.

Griffin wrote about how history isn't meant to be buried.

It's meant to be seen, to be understood.

Then why give us a shovel?

To teach us another lesson.

And he also gave us a bar of soap.

We're supposed to get our hands dirty.

And then... Wash them.

He's telling us to start clean, to rethink everything.

I don't think the treasure's hidden way out here.

The real thing is hidden somewhere in plain sight where people can appreciate

it.

The museum.

What? Nora.

She must have figured out that the real fossil wasn't here and she waited for us

to show up. She gave herself a head start.

Federal agents, don't move, Nora.

Show us your hands.

I can't.

You're not going anywhere.

And neither are you.

Drop the weapons.

I'm sorry.

We don't have what you want.

But the real thing is here.

And you're going to find it for me.

So I just think I'm the Austrian Bond villain.

Very cute couple. It's not what you think. He followed me. I am his hostage.

Enough! Where did he hide the bone?

Double 100 alert.

Where? I told you, Griffith's teaching us a lesson.

He would have hidden the real thing in plain sight.

Display cases, exhibits.

And you just watched me search every single one of them.

Then I don't know.

That's too bad for her.

Shoot.

You're such a fine chap.

Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa. Can I say something real quick?

Listen, I know these places, all right? Backwards and forwards. When I was a

kid, my father dragged me to every museum ship from Bangor to Key West.

Now, trust me when I tell you all these places are the same, all right? When

people visit, they skip the exhibits. They go straight for the engine room.

If Griffin wanted it in plain sight, I bet that's where he put it.

It's still no answer from Knight or McGee. I'll keep trying.

Where's our ride?

Should be here any minute.

Okay, museum boy.

Get in there and find it.

And no hide and seek or your partner dies first.

Look, I hear you, but you need to be aware engine rooms are not like filing

cabinets that you can just flip through.

Okay, now once we get in there, it's going to be a jungle of machinery. That

bone could be hidden anywhere.

Crankshaft housing.

Steamline cradle. It's stalling. And find it!

Look.

And I suggest you hurry.

Now.

All right, here we go.

That's all right.

Yay, you guys are having some car trouble. Not anymore. Thanks, Curtis.

Oh.

Uh, okay.

Anything to help?

Jess, you doing okay?

I officially hate ships as much as Parker does.

Your partner needs a doctor.

I need a miracle.

Wait a second.

If you don't want to ask.

You've got to be kidding me.

Hey, I think I found it.

Bring it to me.

You know what? I'm going to need some help down here.

You, go.

Go.

You're going to get us all killed.

This is another story. It's not.

Samson engine rooms, I thought you were bluffing. Yeah, well, I thought I was

too, but then it hit me.

Fuel lines, fossil fuel.

Hurry up!

Federal agents!

Don't move!

That's right, go, go, go.

Jet, tell me you're good.

Not yet.

How about now?

Yeah.

Pretty good.

You were working with Druker. Every one of his calls to the museum came through

your desk. You knew that he was after that fossil. And also knew that Griffin

would never sell.

So you killed him.

No, I would never.

Which part?

Yes, I lied.

About the bone, about Druker calling.

And I did follow the journal clues to the park until I realized... It was a

end. The real thing had to be back on the ship. So I flashed your tires and

there. With your partner, Drucker? No, I wasn't working with him. I was trying

to find the bone myself.

To sell it? To protect it.

Same as Griff. He wouldn't have died for that fossil unless it truly meant

something. And the journal said he wanted to find the true owner.

Okay, who is the true owner?

I don't know.

But it was Griff's life's work, and I wanted to finish it.

I trusted him.

Then why should we trust you?

You shouldn't.

I messed up, and I'm sorry.

But I didn't kill him.

Then help us prove it. I wish that I could, but I have told you everything

I know.

Okay.

I hope you have a good lawyer.

The bone, the real one from the ship. What happens to it? Goes to its legal

owner, Griffin's last living relative, his grandson.

Kevin, but he doesn't understand what it is, what it means.

He'll sell it for a quick buck.

You don't get it. The journal, the clue trails, grifted everything he could to

prevent this.

Kevin isn't worthy.

I'm supposed to pick up some of my grandfather's personal effects, or as I

to call them, junk.

Did you guys find his killer?

Yeah, we think so.

And we also finished your grandfather's hunt. Turns out there was treasure at

the end of this one.

That?

Like I said, it wouldn't be anything valuable.

Right. You got it?

Yep.

Idiot. Do you know how much this thing is worth?

Yes, I do.

And apparently so do you.

No.

You knew from the beginning, didn't you?

No, it was Druker. He told me.

He told me. He said my grandfather wouldn't sell and then... And then he

to convince him.

Let me guess.

That didn't go well?

I didn't mean to hurt him.

Did it that was gonna be mine anyway, you know, why wouldn't you just give it

me he couldn't He didn't go on the journey

Nora

was right.

Yes. You finally told the truth.

Maybe we should return the favor

If I don't believe it, you dropped the fake?

Oops. I don't understand.

Why bring me down here? Why tell me all this?

Because you still owe us something.

I already admitted to interfering with the federal investigation and destroying

government property.

We're not talking about punishment.

When I x -rayed the real bone, I found this pin driven inside.

Old school field method.

Paleontologists did that so discoveries could be numbered and catalogued.

Except this one contained more than just a number.

This bone is a part of a collection believed lost after World War II.

Griff traced its history, and this pin is the final chapter.

He traced it back to the Drukers.

They acquired it from a Jewish family before the war.

Griff contacted Druker, looking for the info of the original owners.

And Drucker panicked. The bone proved that Drucker's had stolen it.

With Nazi help.

So here's the deal.

As part of your plea deal, you are going to finish Griff's work.

My family ran from a dictator.

And this bone survived another.

Take it back to the family it belongs to.

Is that the keychain we found at Vance's desk?

Damn, I guess Parker called dips.

Some things are worth keeping.

Some are worth selling.

My sugar sprout dolls are up to $1 ,200 on eBay.

What are you talking about? I thought we had a deal.

Oh, well, you better start bidding.

Hey, you owe your mom and your uncle.

For more than just the dolls.

So I looked into those glasses that were in the box, and turns out they belonged

to my great -grandfather.

Oh, my God, this thing is up to $1 ,500.

So I dug through some old family photos, and my grandfather wore those glasses

his entire life. I mean, they saw the old country, the journey to America.

Your great -grandmother naked.

They witnessed the start of an American family, yes?

Okay, so what are you going to do with them? Are you going to keep them?

Oh, better than that.

I'm going to continue their history.

And stop.