All language subtitles for Bones S04E01 The Yanks in the U.K. Parts 1 and 2

In closing my lecture on
interstitial lamellae remodeling,

I'd like to address some issues that are not
strictly confined to forensic anthropology.

If it's all right with my host, Dr. Wexler?

I should think
that all but the most joyless wonks,

and, yes, I do refer to you, Cyril Bibby,

would embrace a diversion
from Haversian systems.

My partner,
FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth,

gave his lecture
at Scotland Yard last night.

Agent Booth, could you please stand up?

- Hey, Booth!
- Yeah? I'm here. What's up?

Agent Booth is the intuitive humanist
while I am the logical empiricist.

Although recently I have seen
how destructive pure logic can be.

My own assistant, the most brilliant
young man I have ever met...

Ended up a sidekick
to a cannibalistic serial killer.

I haven't invited you to join me, Booth,
so you can take your seat.

What I've learned from Agent Booth

is that we scientists must arm ourselves
with something other than pure logic.

A quality which deflects us from
an irrational enamoration for the rational.

Exactly.

How old is that guy?

What, lan? He's a year younger than I am.
And almost as brilliant.

What do you think of my speech?

Yeah, it got, you know,
better towards the end.

You mean after you interrupted me?

I'm sorry.
Look, it wasn't that I was bored, mostly.

It's just that I was tired. Okay?

The boobies took me out
for a beer last night.

Bobbies. They're called bobbies.

I'm pretty sure that Sarah, Pauline
and Jacqueline are, you know, boobies...

Dr. Brennan?

Dr. Brennan, what a wonderful lecture.
Fantastic, sublime, great.

Thank you, Dr. Wexler.

Who knew such a shapeless robe
could be so evocative?

Of academia, I mean, of course.

Just one moment with my colleague,
please, Agent Booth?

Um...

Over the last few days I have been warned
many times to watch out for you.

Warned? That sounds dangerous.

Was it something along the lines of,

"Look out for Ian Wexler.
He's a young genius on the rise."

How can you flirt with me
while ignoring your phone?

Well, I am a man of perspective.

Besides, I find that
if one ignores the thing long enough,

generally it stops ringing.

And then later, at my leisure,
it will tell me what it wanted.

Dr. Ian Wexler. Don't leave. This is nothing.

Murder? What kind of murder?

Well, is it a boring one
or is it a violent one?

- Is your interest piqued?
- Are you being serious?

I'm going to pass you over
to a colleague of mine.

I'd simply like you to state
the origin of this call. Thank you.

- Scotland Yard? Homicide?
- Cheers.

Well, would you like to tag along?
It is murder. Can't promise anything.

But it is possible
a famous heiress is involved.

I'm keen as ketchup.

Mustard. Keen as mustard.

Excellent effort at the colloquialism,
though. Very impressive.

Does your cowboy want to tag along?

- Please don't call him that.
- He'd find it insulting?

No. He'd love it.

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I need a wire jump!

Stay back, please.

Inspector Cate Pritchard of Scotland Yard,
I'd like you to meet...

- Agent Booth! Hello.
- Yes! Yes!

I very much enjoyed
your presentation last night.

He's very active, sound effects,
visual aids, lots of props.

Although he complained at great length

about having to check
his gun with us.

Well, you know, without a gun,
I'm practically naked.

Isn't that right, Bones?

- Inspector Pritchard, meet Dr. Brennan.
- Charming.

She's exactly like me.

Charming, tenacious, salacious,
sophomoric, euphoric, noble,

ignoble, fatuous, horrid, morbid,
torpid and tedious?

Flattery will get you
absolutely nowhere, Cate.

So you found Portia Frampton?

Well, the way we usually work, lan,
is I drag the bodies out of the Thames,

and you use your extraordinary
capabilities to identify them.

Bones, they're like the English version
of me and you.

But you think it might be her?

Well, this certainly is her car.

Portia Frampton. She's an American.

As is her father. Do you know him?

Not all Americans know each other, Cate.
There are quite a lot of them.

Roger Frampton. Airlines,
Internet ventures, luxury construction.

Full disclosure, Cate.

I'm currently analyzing
one of his construction sites.

Frampton wishes to build skyscrapers

over what may prove to be
a Bronze Age treasure trove.

Or maybe just a rubbish tip.

- Well, they aren't mutually exclusive.
- Exactly.

This vehicle's number plate
matches Miss Frampton's.

Obviously this vehicle entered the Thames

at some distance upstream
before coming to ground here.

What do you think, Dr. Brennan?
Female or transvestite?

Female. Late teens, early 20s.

Penetrating trauma to the parietal bone.

Someone hit her on the head
with a sharp object.

You have to do that as well, do you?
Translate for him?

- You have to deal with that, too?
- Is it murder?

- Yes.
- Yes.

If this is Portia Frampton, then her father
will no doubt demand FBI involvement.

- Why?
- They're American.

Well, you won't have any real jurisdiction,
you understand.

Well, not beyond what I grant you
out of courtesy.

Well, that whole "no jurisdiction"
thing, that really doesn't fly with the FBI.

- Just tell him he can have a gun.
- But he can't.

Well, as they say in America,
"Hasta la vista, baby."

Look, Agent Booth,
I will do my utmost to get you a gun.

In that case, excuse me.

Bones and I are the best
crime solving team in America.

Well, we're in England.

Let's just all try and pull together,
shall we?

One nice little happy
transnational unit of inquiry.

Well, we should have these remains
sent back to the Jeffersonian,

as well as any silt samples
and parts of the vehicle

that may contain trace evidence.

Well, how do you feel
about that, Dr. Wexler?

I'm looking forward to completely
surrendering myself to Dr. Brennan.

You heard her. Back to the Jeffersonian.
All of it. Put it in the overhead.

Brennan sent all this evidence
from England?

Not just evidence.
The actual human remains.

The Brits used dental records,
no jokes, please,

to identify the daughter
of a wealthy expat.

Typical American billionaire.
He thinks we can do it better.

Because we can do it better.

- X-rays for you, Clark.
- Thank you.

I'll take the body. See if there's
any soft tissue worth looking at.

And these crime scene photos
are mine.

Check it out! British slime.

So much more proper
than American slime.

- Some kind of paper.
- I'll see if there's anything on it.

Okay. As usual,
I'll need constant progress reports.

Angela.

Oh, my God!

- Grayson.
- Angela.

That's the last bit of sugar
you're ever gonna get from me.

I want my divorce.

"Portia Frampton,
only daughter of Roger Frampton, 47,

"formerly of Ringwood, New Jersey,
and Sarah Frampton, n�e Burroughs,

"deceased 1994, of Cheltenham, England."

God, you wouldn't believe
what my hotel gave me for breakfast.

It was like this brown goo
and some kind of meat.

I think it was a sausage
about the size of my finger.

I had an entire buffet.

Well, you're staying
at the Duke of something, all right?

I'm at the Beefeater Hotel/Motel.

You ate at a Beefeater? That's brave.

Yeah, brave is right.
It's the weakest coffee I've ever had.

Booth, that's tea.

Okay, two weeks ago, Miss Frampton
was last seen leaving her home

the morning after her 21st birthday party.

That's quite a coincidence that Dr. Wexler
is working for the victim's father.

Well, not working for him, actually.
Working for the city,

but I shall check my diary
to see if I killed her.

Portia's party broke up
around 2:00 a.m.

And she was reported missing
the following afternoon.

The question is why?

Well, she was probably reported missing
because nobody could find her.

- Ian.
- And I suspect the reason why

nobody could find her was because

Portia was in a car
on the bottom of the River Thames.

- Just a theory, mind you.
- Right. It's a great theory.

Can you hold onto that
for one second? Thanks.

Me and Dr. Brennan
will go talk to the family.

Together?

- That's what we do.
- That's what we do.

- You know, Inspector, that's extraordinary.
- Sweet.

Portia Frampton
was struck from behind.

Trauma to the zygomata suggests
that she fell to the ground

and then was struck again
at least two more times.

- Weapon?
- The Brits were unable to recover

all the skull fragments.
So it's nearly impossible to tell.

Excuse me.

I'd like you to meet my husband,
my soon to be ex-husband.

We must talk.

This is Birimbau?

I prefer my real name, Grayson Barasa.
Very nice to meet you.

Listen, I realize that Grayson is very lovely.

- He certainly is.
- Thank you.

He's a big dude.

But until Grayson hands over
signed divorced papers,

I don't really need Hodgins
seeing everybody gawking at him

like he's some kind of god.

Yeah. But he is some kind of god.
The best kind.

- Cam, a little help here.
- Yeah. Okay.

Oh, my God. Poor Hodgins. Wow.

Look at that guy. He's just...

Look at him. I'm sorry.

- Hodgins?
- Hey, Angie.

This is Grayson Barasa. Birimbau.

Please tell me
you are here to sign the divorce papers.

I can't do that.

- I am still in love with Angela.
- Of course you are.

I understand.
But Angela is in love with me.

I told you, Grayson.

Angela, do you remember
the night we met?

- Vaguely.
- The waves were phosphorescent.

Like the world was upside down

and we were swimming naked
through the Milky Way.

Bioluminescent phytoplankton.
Nothing mystic.

We talked about
how the universe speaks to us.

And when our lips met...

- I apologize.
- No worries. Our lips meet all the time.

Bells.

- What?
- No, Hodgins.

Literally, bells started ringing.
It was nothing cosmic.

Every bell on the island rang out.

Well, it was during
the Shark Festival of Bells.

What did you expect to happen?
A 21-gun salute?

So,
what about the divorce papers?

You need time to talk.

Yuck it up, laughing boy.

Wait until one of your ex-girlfriends
comes to visit.

Yeah.

- Back to work.
- Yeah.

One of the reasons
we moved away from the States

was to get away from the violence.
Now look what happened.

All right, Mr. Frampton.

Look, we're very sorry
for the loss of your daughter.

- What was it? Was it a robbery?
- We don't know yet.

- I'm gonna need a list of your enemies.
- What enemies?

Well, you're a very aggressive American
businessman living here in England.

You must have enemies.

My daughter was
a very sweet, innocent girl.

Not always, Mr. Frampton.

What the hell are
you asking for, anyway?

If you can put
that picture away, Dr. Brennan.

Miss Miller, how close were you
with your stepdaughter?

Heather and I are not married yet.

Portia was like a younger sister to me.

We talked about everything.
Clothes, school, Harry...

Harry? Who's Harry?

- Lord Henry Albert Bonham.
- Right.

Is that some kind of crusty
old politician or something?

Lord Bonham
is a very un-crusty young man,

heir to the Duke of Innesford.

Right. Harry Henry Bonham,
whatever, I read the tabloids.

There was no mention of Portia
dating any kind of royalty.

The duke wanted it kept a secret.

The duke would be the lord's father.

- I got it, Bones. I understand, okay?
- I'm just trying to help.

All right, so the duke says something,
and all of a sudden, magically it happens?

Welcome to England.

A murderer's a murderer,
no matter how close he is to the throne.

Please, help me find out
who did this to my daughter.

Why did you rent this?

I didn't rent this, okay?
They screwed up at the rent-a-car place.

I ordered an Aston. You know,
James Bond. But they gave me...

Yeah, they gave you an Austin.
It could happen to anyone.

We drive on the left here,
as you may recall.

Driving here requires a different skill set.

I could take the wheel if you like.
I'm an excellent driver.

Thank you, Rain Man.
No, I'm fine. I tell you what. Back home,

we'd drag the whole Royal Family
in to interrogation separately.

Let them stew, catch them in a lie.

Well, we could do that if you like.
But it'll give them time to close up.

Do stay to the left here, please.

- Close up?
- Tighten ranks.

Nothing is as impenetrable

as the aristocracy
freezing out hoi polloi interlopers.

I must say I'm rather looking forward

to two Americans
bearding the lion in his den.

- The light is red.
- That's okay. I'm turning right.

No, no. Turning right on a red here

is the equivalent of turning left
into the wrong lane on a red at home.

- That makes no sense.
- No, no!

But the point is it's against the law
to turn on a red!

Brake! Brake! Brake!

Brake!

Get out of the way, wanker!

I think we should wait here
until the traffic thins out.

God! I hate London! I hate England!
I'm glad we had a revolution!

Bollocks!

Brennan.

And the weather is lousy!

The fatty acid composition of the victim's
cervical fluid caught my attention,

so I ran some more tests.

Turns out Portia Frampton was pregnant.

- Pregnant? How far along?
- And coffee!

What is so hard about
making a cup of black coffee?

- About two months.
- Okay. Thanks, Cam.

Okay, I feel much better. What did I miss?

Lord Henry Bonham,
heir to the Duke of Innesford,

knocked up the victim.

Right. The royals hate bastards.

Only the ones that don't make king.

Okay. Well, hang on, girls.
Let me get out of this toilet swirl!

Wow. Nice castle.

No.
Castles were originally designed

for military purposes to withstand attack.

This is more properly called a palace.

Bones,
little help getting out. Bones?

Jeez! God. Jeez. Heads up.

Getting out of this thing is like being born.

Is that the duke?

- It's his gentlemen's gentlemen.
- It's a butler.

How you doing there, sport? Right. FBI.

You might as well put this one away.
It's worthless.

And yet, here I am.

- You mind waiting outside?
- Why?

It's because Agent Booth
not only wants the aristocrats off-balance,

he wants them upside-down.

Well, he'll annoy them, you mean?

Let's say the duke and duchess
won't be used to your approach.

Listen, word of advice.

When they start commenting on you
to each other, you've got them on the run.

Right.

I noticed
in the crime scene photos

that the back seats of the SUV
were folded down.

Which started me thinking that maybe

the victim was transporting something,
you know, worth stealing.

So Brennan had strips of material sent
from the vehicle, which I analyzed.

ST-90 transmission oil.
It's made of poly-alpha-olefin.

Leaded, acidic H2O residue,

and plenty of polycyclic
aromatic hydrocarbons.

- Don't make her ask.
- Thank you, Angela.

A motorcycle was transported
in the back of the SUV.

More likely a scooter, given the size.

The killer kills,
loads the body and his scooter...

- Or moped.
- Drives to the Thames...

Dumps the car, body and all, in the river,
and rides his scooter home.

Through the teeming streets of London.

So you're an honest-to-God real butler?

My family has served His Grace's family
for eight generations.

A real butler would offer to
take my hat.

A real gentleman
would be wearing a hat.

Look at this guy!

Oh, yes, sir. It dates to...

Please don't touch that, Agent Booth.

Late 1490s or early 1500s. German design?

His Grace's ancestors
fought for Henry VIII in France.

Jeez, look at the size of this.
That's one large cup.

Probably to scare the sissy French.

Actually, Henry VIII started the trend
of large codpieces because he had syphilis.

So his penis was extremely sensitive
to anything touching it.

His Grace favors
the "intimidate the enemy" version,

should the topic arise.

His Grace, her Ladyship, and Lord Henry
will meet you in the morning room.

Two weeks,
and I'd heard nothing from Portia,

I knew it'd turn out to be
something terrible.

You kept your relationship
with Portia Frampton a secret.

It didn't mean I didn't love her.

Well, where we come from,
that's exactly what it means.

You're quite certain this American
has the right to pose these questions?

Tell you what, you call Scotland Yard,
and the answer is always gonna be yes.

So, Portia ever come to visit this palace?

This house? No.

Why? I mean, you were in love with her.
Right, Lord?

Well, it's my understanding
that the class system in England,

though very much relaxed
since the Second World War,

still exists at the highest levels of society.
That's you, right?

One prefers not to make such an assertion.

How long did you and Portia Frampton
carry on a sexual relationship?

Did I ever say I was sleeping with her?

Of course you had sex with her, Harry.
And I'm sure she rather enjoyed it.

You're a well-formed, athletic boy.

Did you offer refreshments?

I had no intention of encouraging them
to stay longer, Mother.

Tea, please.

Harry kept his relationship
with the Frampton girl secret

because her father is a rapacious crook

who uses intimidation and bribery
to get what he wants.

So, it had nothing to do with this?

They brought that wretched rag
into the house.

I was there. It was the afternoon
before Portia's birthday party.

- So you saw the photographer?
- Of course not. I'd have thrashed him.

The lord was
gonna go all medieval.

Portia's party was lovely.
She left before I woke the next morning.

- That's the last time I saw her.
- But you did hear from her?

Right. Because cell phone records indicate
that you talked that morning.

It was a very personal conversation.

Did you discuss her pregnancy?

I got it. I'll tell you what.
There was an argument.

Portia wanted to keep the baby.
You didn't.

I assure you I had absolutely no idea that...

Could he possibly be suggesting
that pregnancy is a motive for murder?

Nonsense. Arrangements
would have been made.

Right. And you're positive
that you're the father?

- Harry.
- Look at that.

I'm being intimidated by royalty.

If you must know, Portia broke up with me.
She said there was to be no discussion.

There you go. Motive for murder,
no matter what country we're in.

Mmm.

- What is this?
- It's Assam black tea. Very strong.

Call it the upper class version
of a cuppa joe.

Wow! Cheers.

Yeah, I've been looking
at those tabloid photos of the victim.

Now, in a telephoto shot,
most of the frame is blurry.

Only the main subject is in focus.

What is this place on the weekends,
a dungeon?

You see here?

These pixels look like
they've been altered to appear fuzzy.

So it wasn't really a telephoto lens.

You light it with torches, right?

No. It was a telephoto lens.

But it's been doctored to look as though
it's over 500 millimeters,

when I put it at more like 80.

Why would anyone do that?

- You see that white sliver?
- Do you mean the white blob?

Yeah. It's a reflection of light.

Almost as though the photographer
was behind glass.

And in Portia's eyes, do you see that?

No.

It's a reflection of a house.

Do you see where I'm going?

No.

Someone took the picture
inside the house.

Right. With an 80 millimeter lens.

Sweetie, my ex-husband is here
with the divorce papers,

so I'll fill you in when you get back.

I love the mix of personal and professional
you people seem to manage.

Harry could've taken the photograph.

Yes, that's certainly a possibility.
But Harry had no motive to take the photo.

We're most likely searching
for a disgruntled servant

who was looking to cash in.

I apologize for eating without you.

But apparently to hold a table,
you have to order.

Yeah. I'm not here for food. I'm here
to get you to sign the divorce papers.

In my place, would you do that?

I'm not in your place.

I've been searching for Angela
for five years.

I know. I know.

Our private investigator
told us everything.

You built Angela a home
with your bare hands

while simultaneously
smuggling medicine to children in Cuba

and supporting an orphanage.

You're a saint, I get it.

If you believe that to be true,

then you should want
what is best for Angela.

I do. And guess what? It's me.

Why are you better than me?

Obviously I'm not.

But I do love her more than you.

- You cannot possibly know that.
- And yet I do.

We are at an impasse.

You have no sense of dignity.

Yeah. I'd give up my life for Angela.
So, what's a little dignity?

- She kissed me, you know?
- On the cheek? Or...

- What's going on?
- Oh, man.

- He says you kissed him.
- I did.

Whoa.

It was a goodbye kiss.

There is nothing you can do.
You must accept...

- Hodgins?
- Here. Can you take this, please?

Whoa!

Nice, Grayson!

Angela.

We've been working on
identifying the photographer

who took the tabloid picture of Portia.

Surely identifying her murderer
is more important.

Well, you see, paparazzi,
they follow people.

So maybe he saw something.
I don't know, maybe the actual killer.

The photo was taken from a bedroom
in Portia's home.

So you're suggesting
the help let a paparazzo into the house?

Actually, the help told Inspector Pritchard
that you were in the room.

Look, maybe you want to tell us
why you did it before Roger gets here.

Roger and I have set five wedding dates
over the years!

And each time,
Portia found a way to make him postpone.

She had her father
wrapped around her little finger.

- So you killed her?
- Don't be ridiculous!

No, I merely wanted Roger to regard Portia

as a sexually mature adult
with her own agenda,

instead of as an innocent child.

Sorry I'm late.
Court went rather longer than expected.

Heather, I trust you've said nothing.

- Too late.
- Too late why?

Your girlfriend sent the naked picture
of your daughter to the tabloid

so you'd stop thinking that
she was perfect and finally get married.

What Americans lack in subtlety,
they make up with clarity.

Roger, I'm so sorry.

Why the hell would you do that?

Please believe me.
I would never do anything to harm Portia.

I simply made a terrible mistake!

Roger! Oh, Roger!

- I trust this interview is over.
- Actually, I just have one more question.

Who the hell would want to wear this?

It's so nice to see you relaxing, enjoying
some good British beer, Agent Booth.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Tell you what. I'd like to see that open.

- Really? Why?
- Luck.

Well, you'd have to be ridiculously lucky
to see something like that, wouldn't you?

That's my point.

- Well, you did get a little lucky today.
- Yeah.

That's a Walther PPK.
It's a James Bond gun.

Booth, Seeley Booth.

No. That's terrible.

Thanks, Pritch.

Well, please just remember, though,
that if you do use it,

I'm the one they'll hang.

Hey, I'm a good shot.

It's the American squints.
You'll love these people.

Booth, Seeley Booth.

Hey. The paper you sent me

turns out to be a letter to Portia Frampton
from her mother.

A keepsake from her childhood, perhaps?

No, it's dated this year.

Hey, what does the letter say?

The entire body of the letter
is indecipherable.

The date and the salutation
and the signature are clear, though.

Thanks, Ange.

So, Portia Frampton's mother is still alive.

That raises a whole set of questions.

Visible on the L2
is an area of radial radiolucency.

- Can't see a damn thing.
- Give us a moment, Clark.

We found a few more bone fragments
today, Dr. Wexler.

- Good. How old?
- No more than 100 years.

To prevent Frampton from building
his beloved skyscrapers on this site,

we need to find something
from the Bronze Age or older.

There is evidence of reabsorption
of the surrounding bone.

Here, yes, I see. Very interesting.

Cyril, you're being impertinent.
Please stop speaking.

Well, could the anomaly be
a hemangioblastoma?

Okay, off you go.

And don't come back until you find at least
one Bronze Age ossified funny bone.

- Have Cam do a histology, Clark.
- Will do, Dr. Brennan.

So, what now?

Well, I thought quick drink,
back to yours for some sex,

and then out for a late supper.

- I'm inclined to accept.
- Well, I'm ever so pleased.

But Booth says I shouldn't trust you.

- And why is that?
- Well, he says you like to rack them up.

"Rack them up"? How vulgar.

Booth is very good at reading people.

Well, in that case,
how about we start with the supper,

and then let the chips
fall where they may?

That would be an acceptable compromise.

I checked out the skull
fragments for microscopic traces.

- How shiny and pretty. What is it?
- Mother of pearl.

- Have you talked to Angela today?
- Yes.

Are you saying our victim
was attacked by an abalone?

- How mad is she?
- Mad, mad, mad.

I thought women secretly liked it

when we fought over them.

"Women" is
an unacceptable generalization.

Well, you should look over
your other shoulder.

Bones, I've been driving
since I was 12, okay?

Would it make you less agitated

if I told you that
I didn't sleep with Dr. Wexler last night?

Look, I'm not agitated, okay?

I'm agitated because
I'm driving this little car, that's all.

Look, Dr. Wexler is just...

I'm not agitated
because of you and Dr. Wexler.

Wexler is just another guy looking
for a one-night stand. That's it.

- So?
- So he doesn't take it seriously.

Seriously? What do you mean?
You never laugh during sex? Because I do.

- Do you see that lorry?
- I see that lorry. It's a truck, okay?

We're an American, and that is a truck.

I laugh during sex. It's just...
It's not that kind of serious.

Well, I think Dr. Wexler is serious
about having sex with me.

- Very interested.
- Okay, news bulletin for you.

Bones, there's not a guy in this country
who wouldn't want to have sex with you.

Probably half the gay men... Easy.

Are you being nice about me
or awful about British men?

Wexler is not special, you are.

- Brennan.
- Am I interrupting anything?

No, I'm just helping Booth drive.

Booth shouldn't be behind the wheel.
He isn't adaptable.

I'm Mr. Adaptable, okay?
And the mirror is the size of a thumbnail.

Well, what do you expect when you rent
a car the size of your thumb?

I don't think there's enough fetal tissue
to get a DNA reading, but...

Cam, can we just be quiet
until I get into the flow of traffic here?

Get out of the way, wanker!

Do you think I'm special?

Of course I think
that you're special. Yes!

Thank you. I will take
your romantic advice under advisement.

Now you're too far to the left.

You're gonna hit the curb!

We're good.

- Yeah, unless we get a flat tire.
- No, we're good.

If I could speak again?

I had better luck with the tumor.

Our victim suffered
from Von Hippel-Lindau disease.

- We got a flat tire.
- How'd that happen?

But there wasn't any evidence of VHL

in either the mother's medical records
or the autopsy report.

But it's hereditary.
So her father must have it.

- Roger Frampton worked for the NHL?
- He may have VHL disease.

What if he doesn't have it?

Then Roger Frampton is not
Portia Frampton's biological father.

Oh, God.

Great. That's just great! I hate this car!

My wife is not alive.

Your daughter was carrying a letter
from her mother when she died.

It was dated Portia's 21st birthday.

That's impossible.
Tell your lab boys they got it wrong.

Roger, the lab is in fact correct.

Portia was indeed carrying a letter
from Sarah, dated her 21st birthday.

Portia and I met at a cafe in Knightsbridge
the day after her party.

I gave her the letter personally.

I think you'll find
Sarah knew she was dying

and entrusted Mr. Curry with letters,

which he delivered
on Portia's important birthdays.

- How do you know?
- Well, it's exactly what I would've done

if I were dying
and leaving behind a young daughter.

It's all very touching and all,

but it still makes wig-wearing Willie here
the last person who saw Portia alive.

For God sake, now I'm a suspect?

You should've told me, William.

You're not the only person
who engages me for my discretion, Roger.

- What did the letter say?
- I'm sure I couldn't possibly tell you.

Mr. Frampton, how is your health?

What the hell
does that got to do with anything?

Any nerve pain, dizziness, headaches?

No. I'm healthy as an ox.

Are you aware that Portia
is not your biological daughter?

Perhaps I should conduct
the rest of this interview.

- Angela.
- Here we go.

Angela, men are idiots, seriously.

Just to be clear, are you a man or a boy
for the purposes of this conversation?

When I was 10, the kid next door
had a Turtle Party Wagon.

It's an accessory for the Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures.

It's a toy.

Anyway, I loved that party wagon.
I wanted that party wagon.

So I climbed the tree
outside his bedroom window.

But the tree had a fungus.

And his dad was too cheap
to hire an arborist.

So, unbeknownst to me,
some of the branches were dead.

Lucky for you, I enjoy
a convoluted story with my hot beverage.

I'm in the hospital.
Broken arm, concussion.

And the kid with the party wagon
comes in.

I confess everything.
You know what he says?

"I would've given it to you."

Ah.

He had a little gay crush on you.

He did?

Mmm-hmm.

Oh, man. That explains a lot.

But I'm guessing that
you have a different point to the story.

Like maybe I'm the party wagon?

No. You're the gay neighbor boy.
Your love is the party wagon.

Grayson is the tree. I'm Hodgins.
Think about it.

Which brings us back to the point
that all men are idiots.

See how I worked that?

It's because I'm so good.

Uh-huh.

The treads in the victim's tires
were mostly full of river silt.

But I did find a few more materials.

Crushed scleractinian coral,
possibly from Australia.

She was killed in Australia?

It's used as a surface
for private roadways in England.

How does that help us?

Well, it's been illegal
to harvest that stuff for years,

so the roadway in question is fairly old.

And even when this stuff was available,
it was incredibly expensive.

- And the organic material?
- Yeah.

Deciduous pinnate leaflets,
medium pink petals.

It's a Rosa damascena,
an antique rose bush.

- Hey, Hodgins?
- Yeah. Hey, hi, Angela.

Fine. I'll just pass this along
to Booth and Dr. Brennan in England.

You guys go ahead and...

Security cameras, people.
Building's filled with security cameras.

I can't have you punching my ex-husbands.

Deal. So long as
you don't kiss your ex-husbands

for longer than three seconds on the lips.

Deal. Look, it's simple.

My heart isn't yours to claim.
It's mine to give away.

I get that. I mean, what you're saying,
not your heart.

Idiot, you do get my heart.

- Because you're giving it to me?
- At last, a glimmer of understanding.

Wow. That is so flaky
and New Age and wonderful.

Okay, okay, I get it. The universe speaks.

I hear it.

Guy said he was gonna fix the flat tire.
What's it doing up on the truck?

Crushed coral and rose petals?

Hodgins found coral and roses
in Portia Frampton's tires.

Who takes a car with a flat tire
and puts it up on a truck, all right?

You fix it. That's what you do.
If there was a spare tire, I'd have fixed it.

Probably you cracked an axle
or something.

- Thanks, Cam. That was very useful.
- All right, great.

Now I gotta call Agent Pritchard
and I'm gonna have to ask her for a ride.

You know, England is not good
for my personal dignity,

all because of a flat tire.

Wait, Bones, don't smell that.
You don't know where that's been.

Yes, I do. This is crushed coral.
And it smells like roses.

Where did
we pick up crushed coral?

The private road and driveway
at the Bonham estate.

Portia Frampton drove
to the Bonham estate just before she died.

And the royals said
she never came to the house.

They lied.

You honestly believe the Duke of Innesford
is Portia Frampton's biological father?

Both he and his mother
show symptoms of VHL disease.

Well, we are standing on coral,
those are rose bushes,

and that is a scooter that could fit
very nicely into the back of an SUV.

That's great.
Okay, what's taking our backup so long?

I didn't request backup.

- Well, great. In that case...
- I want a gun.

I'm a very good shot and I've killed before.

It didn't bother me as much as I thought.

Well, it bothered you a little.

Well, yes. But not as much as I thought.

Well, if there's gonna be gunplay,
I think I'll wait in the car.

Nonsense, Ian.
There won't be any gunplay.

- Why not?
- We won't need guns

because we have the letter
from Portia's mother.

We don't know what it says.

Ah. But they don't know that.

- Good one, Pritch.
- What did you just call her?

Pritch, Ian. He called me Pritch.
Short for Pritchard.

Will you please put that weapon away?

Fine. It just feels wrong.

I have a letter addressed to Portia
from her mother.

Portia's mother died 14 years ago.

She wrote it on her deathbed.

On her deathbed?
Well, you know what this means?

- Big doings.
- Big doings.

So I'm gonna have Dr. Brennan
read it out loud.

What?

"My dearest daughter, Portia..."

Did we mention it's dated
Portia Frampton's 21st birthday?

Start at the beginning, Bones.

"My dearest daughter, Portia."

Skip to the part about her father.

Wait a moment, please.
Would you leave us, Harry?

- Why?
- What's happening, Gerard?

Please trust me. This is not the way
for Harry to discover certain harsh truths.

Please, Harry, a little trust.

That must be one hell of a letter.

You must believe me when I tell you
that I had no idea of this

before Portia read the letter to me.

You met with Portia here?

What did it say?

It says that the duke
was Portia's biological father.

How remarkably unsavory.

Well, you couldn't possibly think that
Gerard killed Portia to keep it a secret?

Why not?

Portia asked me
if I were her father.

And I admitted
that it was more than possible.

Mother of pearl.
This is very possibly the murder weapon.

Isn't this the part
where we call for legal counsel?

I did not kill Portia Frampton, Mother.
Thank you for your faith.

I believe I'm going to have to request you

to accompany me
to Scotland Yard, Your Grace.

- They "request"?
- It's a polite country.

That will not be necessary.

- It was I.
- Jamison?

The butler?

You ordered your butler
to kill Portia Frampton?

The duke had absolutely
nothing to do with it.

If Jamison confesses,

Harry need never know
that Portia was his sister.

We'll provide you
with the finest representation.

Thank you, ma'am.

Wow.

Come on. You mean to tell me that neither
one of you get the weirdness of this?

All right, the butler did it.
It was the butler!

Inspector Pritchard will be hours
in the interrogation room with him.

But the fact is,
we'll never really know for certain.

You mean, he might just be
protecting the duke?

It's utterly conceivable, yes.

Well, I thought I might try and entice you
back to Oxford with me tonight.

You know, I do have a gun in England.
And I really have been dying to use it.

I'll handle this.

You know, it's a James Bond gun.
It's a Walther PPK, by the way.

lan, I think you're a lot of fun.

Hell's bells and buckets.
I think I know where this is going.

It would upset Booth if I slept with you.

You see, rationally speaking,

if you were to have someone
operate on your brain, for example,

you would want a surgeon who has done
the procedure many hundreds of times.

You know, someone who's absolutely
at the top of their game.

I don't really see
why sex should be any different.

Rationally speaking,
you're absolutely right.

Good. Then, we're settled. Off we go.

Look out for the bridge opening.
They say it's good luck.

That should keep him occupied for hours.

Common sense says you don't
offend your partner for an hour of fun.

An hour? What? One hour?
You underestimate me, Dr. Brennan.

This is absolutely the dregs, isn't it?

I'll call you again before you leave.

Who knows? You could be
in a more rational frame of mind.

What is there missing from me
that I see in you?

What can I say?

What can I do for you?

Why are you looking at me like that?

I'm just here to help you
pick out a guy, you know?

Never mind.
I'm just here to bring a little luck.

I don't believe in luck.

What do you mean,
you don't believe in luck?

Okay, how do you explain when
good things happen out of nowhere?

Define good things.

You know, good things.
Money in the bank,

hey, Doris Day parking, a big piece of the...

- What's Doris Day parking?
- A big piece of the pie. That's good luck.

I call that a solipsistic perceptual response
to the random nature of the universe.

Well, tomato, potato.
Call it what you want.

You know what? It's still luck.

You are lucky I understand you
when you say things that make no sense.

See, you just agreed with me
that it was luck.

You just agreed right there.

- So I'll take that...
- I admit it.

Together and apart we will die

As everything's dancing around

Just trying to stay on the ground

Clark. Lunch?

I was told to catalog all unidentified
remains while Dr. Brennan was away.

And you were told to do this
without eating?

Dr. Brennan was quite adamant
they all be done before her return.

Come on, Clark.
The divorce papers are signed.

And the wedding is on again
and we are all going to celebrate.

Yeah. I'm sure he feels
that your invitation is a polite

but insincere attempt not to exclude him.

We are just trying
to spread the sunshine here, Clark.

I just wanted to say goodbye, Angela.
I'm off to the airport.

Thanks. That's nice.

And thanks for the divorce,
I really appreciate it.

Your happiness is all that matters to me.

And if in a day, a week, or a year,
you want me back in your life, I'll be there.

Right. Well, we've got your number.
So have a good trip.

Cherish her.

Done.

- Isn't this all extremely awkward?
- That's sad.

It's actually
a display of conflicting emotions,

what Reich called
"the battle for orgiastic potency" which...

- Maybe later.
- Sure.

- Would you like a ride to the airport?
- That would be very kind.

- Well, thanks, Cam.
- Sure.

Honestly, guys.
I don't have to be included in everything.

So, Wexler still hasn't called you, huh?

Ian is the top forensic anthropologist
in England.

He's a very busy man, Booth.

Busy trying to get you into bed
for the past two weeks.

The least he could do is call.

God, we're gonna need another cab
for all your stuff.

I was given lots of presents
by the students at Oxford.

No, no, no, no.
Oh, no, don't touch that one. No.

Why? What is it?

Why? Because your students
gave you your gifts,

the cops at Scotland Yard gave me a little
something for their appreciation, huh?

What is that?

It's a bobblehead bobby!

- That's all you got?
- Well, it's a real nice one. Look.

What is this now? The Queen's jewels?

Well, the bellman will help.

No, he's better dressed
than I've ever been. He'll get all dirty.

I gotta tell you, you know what?

There's no rule saying you can't call him.

Although I gotta tell you,
a guy who doesn't want to talk to you

just because you decide not to have sex
with him, he can't be that great.

- What? In bed?
- No, great guy.

Because I think Ian would be great in bed.

Okay, next. All right, hey, pal!
How about a little help?

I gotta get to the airport. Come on!

I'm sorry they canceled your flight.

- I'm not.
- Neither am I. I was just trying to be polite.

You know, it's getting late.

Let me order you some breakfast
before you go to work.

Earth-shattering sex and breakfast?
I can die a happy woman.

You know, I'm glad to be heading home.

But I think America dropped too much
of the English stuff back in 1776.

- Like what?
- Well, you know, like royalty.

Meaningless title. No real power.

What? You never wanted to be a princess
when you were a kid?

- No.
- Even now?

Like a castle, a moat,
knights in shining armor?

You know what? I risk my life for
the United States government every day.

I wonder if I could get Congress
to pass something like a knighthood.

Sir Seeley Booth.
It just sounds right. Booth.

I get my worth from my intelligence
and accomplishments,

from actual achievement.
I don't need a title.

What? What's wrong?

It's Dr. Wexler.

Remodeling and analysis of the marrow

indicates the subject lived
in or around the coast of North Carolina.

- We should look at Jamaica.
- No evidence suggests the Caribbean.

For our wedding.

Right. What was I thinking?
I was focusing on my work.

You'll be in love one day, too, Clark.

Yes. But today I am alone
and happily dating multiple women,

so I can concentrate on my work
and not get fired.

I also know this little island
off the coast of Maine.

- Of course you do.
- Sorry I'm late. What did I miss?

We're deciding between
Maine and Jamaica for the wedding.

Did Angela's ex get off okay?

Sorry?

You took him to the airport?

Oh, off. Of course, yes.
He's off and gone. All gone.

- Great. Thank you for doing that.
- Anytime.

Either Maine or Jamaica,
you can't really go wrong.

I should... Bye.

- Ian said you were the best.
- What happened?

Well, why are you giving him the gun?
We're leaving.

I think Inspector Pritchard
is asking us to stay, Bones.

You want me to look at some remains?

You think they're Ian's?

It's impossible
with Scotland Yard all over the place.

Are you ready for this?

This is Ian Wexler's flat.
This is Ian Wexler's bed.

Wow.

Markers are consistent
with Ian's build and age.

Of course, I'll need access to a lab
to make a definitive conclusion.

I'm sorry, Bones.

And Pritchard, I can only imagine
how difficult this is, losing a partner.

CID is saying that there appears
to have been a gas explosion.

Right. Looks like he was drinking.

He did enjoy a glass or two.

Bones, cigarette.

Did Ian smoke?

Not that I'm aware of.

Looks as though
he put the kettle on, lit the cigarette.

Pilot goes out. There's a gas leak.

And whoosh. Place goes up.
No water in the kettle.

Water on the boil
does tend to evaporate, Agent Booth.

Look, we don't suspect foul play.

We just want Dr. Brennan
to give us a definitive identification.

Water doesn't evaporate
if the stove wasn't lit.

Perhaps even British resolve takes a knock
when one loses one's partner.

There is evidence of trauma
to the frontal bone.

That's gonna happen
when a ceiling collapses on you, Bones.

No. This was before the fire.

This was not an accident, Inspector.

You wanted to see me? Man, that is cool.

- Not why you're here, Dr. Sweets.
- Sure.

But it's amazing that all of our hopes
and desires and fantasies,

pain and pleasure,
all reside in three pounds of tissue.

Yeah, great.

Well, some part of this little devil
made me sleep with Angela's ex.

You slept with Angela's ex?

- A little discretion, please.
- I might say the same to you.

It just happened. His flight was canceled.

I was parked at the airport hotel,
and he checked in.

And I figured
I'd see what all the fuss was about.

- And was there fuss?
- Yes. Well-deserved fuss.

Why, exactly?

You're here as a shrink, Dr. Sweets.
Not as a guest on Loveline.

Yes, fine. Sorry.

Should I tell Angela? I mean, we're friends.

And I don't want her to find out
some other way.

Because then it'll seem like I'm hiding it.

Which you'd like to do
because you're feeling guilty.

- Yes, good. Keep going.
- But he's gone now.

- Almost.
- Almost?

Well, there aren't as many flights
to Fiji as you'd think.

- So it might come up again?
- Oh, yes. I'm seeing him again tonight.

- I didn't mean it like that.
- Neither did I.

Right. Okay, well, it's understandable
for you to feel some guilt and anxiety.

Which, by the way, is centered here.

- Dr. Sweets?
- Right.

You feel you have no right to pleasure

because it comes at the expense
of your friends.

Yes! You're good. But he's leaving soon.

So I could say nothing
and hope it all goes away.

But you'd still have to carry that anxiety
every time you saw Angela.

Angela is open-minded by nature.
She's happy with Hodgins.

I think clearing the air
would be good for both of you.

Right. Of course. Thank you.

Yeah. Can I touch the brain just once?
As a reward?

Just once.

It's squishy.

Hey. I just got off the phone with Brennan.

Her friend Wexler has been killed in a fire.

Scotland Yard wants her
to help in the investigation.

They're sending the remains
to Wexler's lab at Oxford.

Brennan's gonna use
the video link and the Web

to send us crime scene photos and x-rays.
Whatever we need to help.

- I'll tell Hodgins and Clark.
- Yeah.

Yeah.

We have not yet confirmed
beyond a shadow of a doubt

that the human remains
found in Dr. Ian Wexler's flat...

But there's always a chance...

You see, in cases like this, the...

My preliminary findings are that

the remains in question
are those of Ian Wexler.

What?

I'm confident that this suspicion
will be confirmed later today.

Cause of death has not been determined.
But we have not ruled out foul play.

Many of you
were close, very close to Dr. Wexler.

And we'd appreciate any information
you can provide. Thank you.

I think
we should talk to Sid and Nancy first.

A reminder, Agent Booth.

There is a proper chain of command,
and I'm the lead on this investigation.

Why are you talking to him like that?
You asked us to stay.

I feel it's important to be clear.

You gave him a gun and everything.

Bones, it's okay. I understand, Pritch.

We're just here to help.
Whatever you need.

Thank you.

We saw Dr. Wexler night before last.
He seemed fine.

- He was going...
- He was going out for a drink.

Frampton was driving him mad.

- Why?
- He was trying to shut down the dig.

So he could build
one of his condo developments on it.

What's to become of the dig now?

The bloody dig can wait, Cyril.
Dr. Wexler is dead.

Dr. Wexler would want the job finished.
You know it's true.

Well, we're gonna have to talk
to the two of you again

after Dr. Brennan confirms
the cause of death.

Legally, the remains have to stay here.

But we've uploaded all the x-rays.

I'll have casts of the bones made
and ship them to you as they are finished.

The fire substantially occludes
what we can glean from these images.

- Can you focus on his feet?
- Sure.

I see soil on a singed sock.

Can I have any direct access
to particulates?

As soon as Inspector Pritchard
gets the okay from Scotland Yard.

How you doing, sweetie?

I'm focused on finding out
what happened to Ian.

The x-rays are starting to arrive.

I can see the depression fracture
you mentioned on the frontal bone.

Looks like it was made by a small object,
like a ball-peen hammer.

Was there enough tissue for a tox screen?

It's being run now.
We'll e-mail you the results.

What is that on the top of his left femur?

Some kind of plastic
which may have been in his pocket.

Send me some high-res photos.
I'll see if I can speed things along.

Thanks. Call if you find anything.

Hey, Brennan. Wait.

Grayson signed the divorce papers,
so the wedding is on again.

Congratulations.

Is that bad,
to congratulate someone on a divorce?

Hard to believe it's over, right?

Yeah. Hard to believe.
Well, we'll talk soon.

Dr. Temperance Brennan
resuming analysis.

The material fused
into the anterior ventral femur

appears to be plastic, partially melted.

- Booth.
- I found something.

What is it?

Where would lan
get a poker chip marked HGC?

My God.

Two nights ago, Dr. Wexler
was buying drinks for his friends

and playing the tables
as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Was he with a woman?

No. This is a gentlemen's club,
Agent Booth.

I didn't see a stage, or a pole,
or dancers, or anything like that.

No. An English gentleman's club
is for actual English gentlemen.

- How did Dr. Wexler strike you?
- Flush.

- What's that mean?
- I believe you'd say "rolling in dough."

That's right. He paid off his tab.

How much did he owe?

We're getting into ticklish areas
of confidentiality now.

This is a gentleman's club, after all.

Scotland Yard will guarantee
the FBI's discretion.

- Isn't that right, Agent Booth?
- Yeah, right.

Over �5,000. He paid it off in cash.

- Where'd he get that kind of money?
- I'm sure I have no idea.

Please.

Look. I took this,
you might say as a precaution,

even though Dr. Wexler told us
that he knew the gentlemen

and everything was fine.

This was taken from the security camera.

Nice tattoo.

And the guy with the tattoo
is taking him away.

Well, if I thought
they were going to kill him,

then I'd have done something.

Don't beat yourself up, pal.

You know, I'm sure
you did the best you could.

Tox screen showed
he had quite a night

with his friends
Mr. Scotch and Mr. Merlot.

Blood alcohol level was.18.

No drugs, recreational or otherwise.
And no evidence of nicotine.

So what was the cigarette
doing in his hand?

Put there to justify the explosion,
I would imagine.

What have you found, Mr. Edison?

Well, if the casts are accurate,

new bone growth
formed a craggy surface on the scapulas

and both the left
and right lateral epicondyles.

- Meaning?
- The victim had bursitis

caused by strenuous repetitive motion.

The only time I've seen this
was on the autopsy of a sculler.

What is that? Like a fish?

A sculler is someone
who crews on a rowing team.

I also examined the fracture
to his frontal bone.

It was the result of a head butt.

Ouch.

I concur.

- I'll send your findings to Dr. Brennan.
- Thank you.

What are you working on, Angela?

Blowing up all the photos
of the remains for Clark and Hodgins.

- Trying not to lose quality.
- Excellent.

Oh.

One other thing.
I slept with your husband. Ex-husband.

- What?
- Goodbye.

Don't leave, Mr. Edison. I need a witness.

I'm sure you can find somebody
who's been here longer than I have.

Are you one of us or not?

- No. I'm not one of us.
- Well, you'll do anyway. I just...

Angela, I slept with him.
And I feel really weird about it.

- Wait. How? Did... I mean, when?
- Oh, God.

Grayson's flight was canceled,
and one thing led to another.

He's very attractive,
so we spent the night together. I'm sorry.

It's okay.

- Really?
- Of course. Why not?

We're divorced. So... I mean,
I got what I wanted from him.

- So now I guess you did, too.
- Well, yeah.

Can I go now, please?

Angela, you are an amazing person.

Why are you amazing now?

I slept with Grayson
and Angela's okay with it.

Of course.

Why should I care?
I'm gonna marry you.

Well, I see no holes in your logic.

And he'll be gone in a day.

He's still here?

Well, that must've gone well.

- Is that something for me?
- Yeah.

It's preliminary results of
particulate and bug analysis.

Now I found microphytobenthos algae,
epipsammic, and epipelic diatoms,

as well as Chironomus riparius,
or midge fly,

all of which
were on the clothing shreds they sent me.

Well, you're excited.
So it must mean something.

The levels and sediment on the algae

indicate that the victim
was near Henley-on-Thames

within 24 hours of his death.

The Henley Royal Regatta
takes place there. Rowing.

Why are you doing this with me
and not Inspector Pritchard?

Come on, Bones.
You and me, we're the real deal.

All right, look.
She's having a tough time with this.

I would, too, you know, if you were killed.

Well, yeah,
you're sentimental that way.

Excuse me.

The guy at the main boathouse
told me that

Dr. Wexler was a teammate of you blokes.

"Blokes"?

Yeah, you know,
I'm kind of feeling at home.

FBI Special Agent Booth.
I have a few questions about...

- Hey, I'm talking here.
- I think you're a bit lost, mate.

You're looking for America.

Head for the coast,
swim across the big pond,

and you'll find a bunch of Yanks
you can ask whatever you want. All right?

Yeah, right. Excuse me, buddy.

We're working with Scotland Yard.
I'm Dr. Brennan.

- Ian was a friend of mine.
- God, the man's got a head like a boulder.

You're the American bird
Wexler was talking about, aren't you?

I'm surprised that lady cop of his
isn't looking out for him.

Yeah. The two of them seemed
more than colleagues.

Inspector Pritchard and Dr. Wexler
had a sexual relationship?

Hey, listen, love,
Ian isn't exactly the faithful type.

So if he's promised you something...

He's dead. He was murdered.

- No.
- What?

We had a race this afternoon.
I thought we'd be seeing him.

That's a pretty distinctive tattoo
you got there.

Any chance you were
at the Highgate Club night before last?

Oh, whoa, whoa.

Wait. You think we killed Wex?

Well, you dragged him out of the club,
didn't you?

This is bollocks!

Look, we had a race.

If we don't sober Wex up in time,
he's no good to us.

His timing's completely discombobulated
from the alcohol.

- So you beat him up?
- No.

We dragged him into a bed
in the boathouse

and we poured coffee into him
in the morning.

- His frontal bone was bruised.
- His forehead.

Maybe you gave him a good crack
like you just gave me?

No. He didn't head butt Wex.

Tell you who did.
A coxswain for the Queen's Light Guards.

- What's his name?
- That's Jasper Ferry.

Booth, he's not gonna talk to you.
It's a tradition.

I know that, Bones.
But I think I almost got him.

There's a little sweat coming off
the side of his face.

If you interfere
with one of the Queen's Guards,

I'm afraid
I shall have to arrest you, Agent Booth.

Simmer down.
I'm not doing anything wrong here.

I'm just waiting for Lieutenant Ferry
to go off duty. That's all.

- He did not murder Ian.
- How do you know that?

My colleagues at the Jeffersonian

have discovered
some very compelling evidence.

I imagine that you learned that

two of Wexler's teammates
from Henley-on-Thames

abducted him from the club
in order to sober him up before a race,

then they told you about his argument

and subsequent fight
with Lieutenant Jasper Ferry here,

which Wexler lost
after a well-deserved head butt.

Why is everybody
head butting everybody around here?

What's wrong
with a good sock to the jaw?

Well-deserved? Why well-deserved?

Ian was shagging
Lieutenant Jasper Ferry's sister.

Oh.

How did you figure that out?

A revolutionary technique which consists
of asking a series of questions

to a murder victim's friends.

Nonetheless, I'm terribly impressed
that your scientists

can deduce almost as much
from a few particulates. Almost as much.

Almost as much?

Look, I'm sorry about your sister.

I really have to thank you.
That was excellent advice.

You're welcome.
It's always best to be honest.

Good. Then I can tell you it was tough
to take you seriously at first.

I mean,
you don't even look old enough to drive.

So I thought, "How could
you possibly have any valid insights?"

- I have two doctorates.
- I know.

But doctorates don't teach you
about sexual matters.

- And being so young, I thought...
- I get it, Dr. Saroyan.

- I just...
- Being honest, I know.

I'm just very grateful to you, Dr. Sweets.
That's all.

Dr. Hodgins, Scotland Yard was interested
in those other particulates you'd found

that did not indicate Henley.

- Okay, just... Okay.
- Okay.

And, Angela, I was wondering when
you might finish enhancing those photos.

- Clark needs them.
- You'll have them when they're done.

What do you think we're doing?
Shirking our responsibility or something?

You know, we've been doing
an excellent job around here

even before you showed up.

So regulate yourself, okay?

I think maybe
there's still a few unresolved issues.

We're still
questioning the female students.

It seems that
they're all accusing each other.

You know, each one thinking
that they were special to Ian.

Is that what you think, too?

You've been asking questions of your own,
I see.

Apparently you were
sleeping with Dr. Wexler.

Don't you think that was something
you should've told us, Inspector?

Oh, please.

I'm British first, a cop second,
and a woman third.

It's a miracle it ever came to light.

- For how long?
- Irrelevant.

What you really want to know is

if sharing Ian with other women
made me want to kill him.

- Did it?
- All those pretty, young students.

The thing that made Ian so very, very good
in bed was all that practice.

Sorry. Was that indiscreet?

I thought Americans
were all brash and forthright.

And here I thought the Brits
were all frustrated sexually and repressed.

- Brennan.
- We found something. You busy?

No. No, this is a fine time.

Assuming the cast is accurate,
I've isolated a stab wound

that originates between
the sixth and seventh thoracic vertebrae.

Which would've pierced
the lung and heart.

- Most definitely.
- That's a very deep wound.

- Bones, what is it?
- Ian was stabbed to death.

And the weapon?

Don't know.
Maybe they found something at the scene.

Nice work, Clark. Thanks.

Did you find any weapon
at Ian's apartment

that could've been used to stab him?

No. And I was there the whole time.

- You're doubting me.
- Yes.

Wouldn't you?

- Inspector Pritchard, I just wanted...

- I am not the jealous sort.

And you're painfully naive
if you think my sex life was limited to Ian.

As I'm sure yours was not.

Well, I didn't sleep with Ian.

- You didn't?
- No.

Why not?
You obviously fancied each other.

Yes. I noted several physiological
responses to his presence

which can only be explained
by sexual attraction.

- So why didn't you sleep with him, then?
- Because of Booth.

You know, I suspected that
you two might be more than just partners.

No. That's incorrect.
Booth advised me not to sleep with lan

because Booth didn't want me
to be another notch on Ian's bedpost.

See, I rather saw it as climbing Everest.

Of course it's been done before.
But the experience is still breathtaking.

You have a strong sexual appetite,

and you're not hamstrung
by social moralizing.

- I can empathize with that.
- Thank you.

Well, why didn't you tell us that
you had a relationship with Wexler?

Because I thought I'd be taken off the case.

I mean, if Agent Booth was murdered,

wouldn't you do everything in your powers
to make sure that you found the killer?

Yes. But I don't sleep with Booth.

Have you withheld any other information?

Why on Earth would I do that?

Because you called a meeting to talk to us.

And then Clark called to give us
cause of death.

And then we basically accused you
of murder.

So while Booth went to get our car,
I followed you to your car,

and we began discussing
mountain climbing and sex with Ian.

Thank you, Dr. Brennan.
I believe I'm up to date now.

Oh.

You are absolutely right.

I did forget to give you this.

It's a writ of release
on Frampton's building site.

The site has been certified as having
no historical importance whatsoever.

Signed and dated Dr. Ian Wexler
shortly before his death.

This document will be worth
millions of dollars to Frampton.

I suggest that you and Agent Booth
ask Mr. Frampton

if he forced Ian to sign that
before killing him.

Okay.

Oh.

Word to the wise, Dr. Brennan.

I'd encourage you not to forego Everest.

But it's too late. Ian's dead.

Oh, yes, of course.

To whom else would I be referring
other than lan?

Me? Kill Wexler?

According to the papers,
the poor bastard died in a fire.

That wasn't cause of death.
He was stabbed.

We do know that Dr. Wexler
stood in the way of your latest project.

He was checking the site
for historical value.

It's the law.

Nothing stands in your way.

Everything stands in my way, Agent Booth.

Environmental groups, historical societies.

You know, there's even a radical
preservationist group.

They threatened me
because I want to improve the city.

"Saviors of Antiquity."

I'd like to build a time machine,
take all these lunatics,

and send them back
where there's no air conditioning or TV,

and they can watch their loved ones die

from the flu and the plague
because there's no medicine!

Then see how they like the good old days.

Right. Dr. Wexler signed the writ
for you to start building, correct?

Of course he did.

He spent two years
rooting around in the dirt.

And all he got was dirty.

We couldn't help but notice how recently
Dr. Wexler gave his okay for you to build.

So I guess the only question is
how forceful did you have to get with him?

I see.

Yeah, so I was so inspired
by the sadistic murder of my daughter

that I thought I would try one myself.

If there's nothing further,
I'm gonna get blind drunk.

So, I found something very odd
that was on the victim, mercury fulminate.

Well, I thought Cam was going to
be sending us all the results.

I'm a grownup. I don't need a middle man.
Now, with this amount of mercury,

I'd think he'd been poisoned,
but tox results say otherwise.

And it didn't come from Henley?

Nope. And I also found
phyllosilicate minerals and carbonic acid.

I'm not sure where they came from either.

Hey, can you have them
send me more samples

from the remains and the locations
from which they came on the body?

Of course. But Scotland Yard says that

all requests have to come
through Dr. Saroyan.

Right. Because nothing
could possibly happen without her.

Is everything okay, Hodgins?

Yup. Sure. Fine, I'll have our
all-powerful leader send the request.

Thank you all for coming.

- Cam said we had to.
- Or lose our jobs.

For insubordination.

I was kind of hoping that
you all came of your own volition,

with an eye toward ameliorating
a tense situation.

Can't you just tell her not to be so bossy?

I'm your boss.

It's very important to realize

that Dr. Saroyan has done nothing
to merit your anger...

- Thank you.
...as a boss.

But by sexualizing her relationship
with Mr. Barasa...

Is there no better way to put that?

Everything else sounds worse.

She's made you both confront
unresolved feelings

about Mr. Barasa's impact on your lives
and how he affects your relationship.

Angela and I love each other
and are getting married.

I know. Why did you think
I was questioning that?

Look, Shrinkie, don't go making problems
where there aren't any, okay?

Although the next time
that you drive somebody to the airport,

just let them fly
the hell out of Dodge, okay?

This all would've been a lot easier
if I'd kept my mouth shut.

No. Nonsense. You're all friends.

I'm sure now that
you see the situation for what it is,

you'll know how to move through it.
Am I right?

I think Dad wants us to apologize.

I apologize for sleeping with people.

I apologize for snapping at you

after basically giving you permission
to sleep with people.

Oh, God.

So now everything is fine?

That is the result of
open and honest communication

with a highly trained mediator.

Fine,
I am sorry for being so cranky,

which is my basic personality.
So it seems stupid to apologize...

- Hodgins, would you just...
- I apologize.

Dr. Wexler never said one word
about giving Frampton

the okay to build condos here.

Yeah? Well, he signed a writ saying
this place had no historical value.

I'm stunned, I tell you.
The writ must be a forgery.

Well, after two years,
you hadn't found anything.

I think that's a reasonable timeline.

This says we have to vacate the dig
in two days.

But Dr. Wexler felt certain we were close.

There was a previous Bronze Age find
about 600 meters south.

- That's his signature, right?
- I don't care. He wouldn't do it.

- Agent Booth? Dr. Brennan?
- Yeah?

I got these from our forensic accountant.

Look at that.
Some checks made out to Wexler.

Ten of them, from a shell company
owned by Frampton.

Seems that �25,000 was the going rate

for a piss-broke forensic anthropologist.

That's how he paid off his debts.

Frampton bribed Ian to vacate the dig.

They found traces of mercury
fulminate in the lower extremities,

higher concentration on the patellas,

and the greatest was
where he was stabbed.

- So it was on the murder weapon.
- Yeah, it looks that way.

- Any idea what kind of weapon it was?
- Not yet.

Whatever punctured the bone was rough,
like a stick.

Now I've tried knives, awls, picks,
but nothing matches.

Who would use mercury fulminate?

It's used in neon lights, batteries,
by taxidermists and at tanneries.

And in the manufacture of explosives.

Frampton has different companies.

Maybe one of them
uses mercury fulminate.

Yeah, I'll see what he owns.

Yeah, and I'll look for any instruments

found in those fields
that could be used as a weapon.

Look at that, Bones.

I'm not saying that
we should have a king or a queen

or beheadings and all that jazz.

I'm just saying, you know,
calling someone like,

hey, Sir Seeley Booth.
Now, that is civilized.

What makes you think that
you would be knighted?

Come on. You're serious, right? Please.

Well, look at this.
You two seem to be relaxing.

Yeah, I gotta tell you,
I'm getting into it, you know?

My head is feeling a little bit clearer,
as chaotic as the English can be.

So, Pritch, tell me, you think
I got what it takes to be a knight, right?

- That's not your first pint, is it?
- No.

Did you bring information on the case?

I ran some checks on Saviors of Antiquity.

Last year they were suspects
in the bombing of a new construction

built on the site of a 13th century church
in Bayswater.

- Burnt it to the ground.
- Mercury fulminate.

- I'm sorry.
- Used to manufacture explosives.

The residue would be on the bomb makers

and could have been transferred
to Ian's stab wound.

Well, only two other members
of the group were charged.

Others were released.

- Look who they let go.
- Cyril.

Yeah, who would be very angry
that Wexler sold out the dig.

I'm telling you, Vera,
there's nothing more to be done there.

It's been shut down.
A week, maybe 10 days to clean up,

- and it's over.
- All so suddenly after two years.

Hey, Vera, Dr. Brennan wants
to see you in the lab.

- What? Not me?
- No, Cyril.

Dr. Brennan wants you
to tell us about this.

The Saviors of Antiquity?
Oh, please.

Where were you on the night
that Dr. Ian Wexler died?

You can't be serious.

Cyril finds out his professor's
on the take and he kills him.

I was in Wales, visiting my parents.

Cyril quit the Saviors years ago.

I joined mostly to meet women.
I'm not a fanatic.

Call my mum. Ask her.
We ate eel. It's my favorite dish.

You think they ever made a Frankenstein
in this place?

No. Frankenstein was the doctor,
not the monster.

Yeah. Because the other way around,
that would make no sense.

- Bones, I know that look.
- Me, too.

Whenever Ian had that look, it meant
things had just gotten more complicated.

Clark just got the last of the casts.

And while he was finishing reconstructing
the skeleton, he found an extra bone.

- Wexler had an extra bone?
- No, no, no.

It's a shattered section of a femur
from someone else

that the interns here didn't identify.

Well, every piece of bone you have here
was found and catalogued at the scene.

Well, maybe he held on to it.

You know,
bone people like to hold onto bones.

I think it's the murder weapon.

Seriously?

The entry point of the stab wound
is between T6 and T7,

extending approximately 22 centimeters
through the heart and lungs.

The killer used a bone to stab lan?

Live by the bone, die by the bone. It's...

Sorry.

It occurs to me that
if we find the origin of the bone,

then, well, we find the murderer.

That's where the mercury comes in.

This bone displays
very high levels of mercury fulminate.

- What does that mean, Bones?
- Nothing.

That's very useful.

Well, I'm more interested in the fact
that it's ossified.

That basically means that
it's turned to stone.

No, no, no. Don't you start explaining
things to me now, okay?

What is the significance of that?

It means it's over 2,000 years old.

I was already working
at the top of my game knowing "ossified."

Two thousand years old puts this bone
firmly in the Bronze Age, the site.

Oh, my God. What... So this bone alone

would have prevented Frampton
from building his skyscrapers.

- Yes.
- Perhaps the murderer used it to kill lan

as a kind of symbolic revenge
for signing a writ.

- That makes sense.
- No, it doesn't make sense.

Nobody just kills somebody
with a bone symbolically.

- Not even in England.
- So what then, Agent Booth?

Well, you have the fire, the cigarette.
It was all set out of panic.

The killer didn't act symbolically.
He acted out of rage.

Sweets is actually good at his job.

I know, right?

I mean, did you understand
you weren't actually mad at Cam?

No, actually I was mad at her.

I mean, you don't have sex with someone
and then expect everything to be fine.

Yeah, not when
they're supposed to be gone

and out of our lives. That is not fine.

No, it definitely is not.

Why? You're divorced.

Why aren't you fine with Cam
sleeping with him?

Well, for the same reason
you aren't fine with him still being in town.

But if everything's over with him, what...
Why do you care who he sleeps with?

Why do you care that he's still in town?

- I don't care.
- Obviously you do.

If you were 100% certain of me,
you wouldn't care. But you do.

If you were 100% certain
you didn't want him,

you wouldn't care that
Cam slept with him.

You don't trust me.

Saying that means you don't trust me.

How can two people
who don't trust each other get married?

I thought we did trust each other.

Yeah. I did, too.

Two people who don't trust each other
shouldn't be together at all.

You really think that?

Don't you?

Yeah, I do.
I mean, I actually do think that. But...

Oh, my God.

Yeah.

I don't know what happened.

I don't either.

But I know it did happen.

I'm gonna... I'm gonna go.

You know,
all you had to do was trust me.

Hey, you're the one that's leaving.

You're the one who isn't stopping me.

Yeah.

Dr. Wexler would've told us
about a find this important.

Yeah, unless he wanted
to keep the money.

Brennan, why are we here?

This was farmland,
a stable for over 200 years.

In the 18th and 19th century. So?

No mercury. But in the 17th century,

there was an inn over there
and a tannery right there.

One of the oldest tanneries in Kensington.

- Oh, my God.
- What?

- That's right.
- Mercury fulminate. It's used in tanning.

A tannery was here for over 100 years.

Mercury would've seeped into the soil
and contaminated whatever it touched.

Why is this area covered?

Vera, you supervised that part of the dig.

Nothing was found there.
Dr. Wexler told us to move on.

- Booth, will you help me?
- Yeah, I got it.

The soil should be loose
from the excavation.

- It's been packed down.
- And covered by wooden pallets.

- Vera, what's going on?
- Nothing. I told you.

Dr. Wexler instructed me to move on.

Another ossified bone chip.
This is a Bronze Age site.

You live for this. Why did you cover it up?

I didn't do anything. Cyril, tell them.

Well, we've been working together
two years trying to make this find.

The bone had no hilt.

She would've scraped her palm
if she stabbed him.

You two are very, very good.

We're the best! Good job, Bones.

- Come on. Up you go, Vera.
- You don't understand.

Can I have some cuffs, please?

You don't understand
what Ian wanted to do.

Kill Wexler so you could keep the money
for yourself?

Ian wanted to give the money back.
Don't you understand?

- Not at all.
- I'm afraid I do.

It was Ian through and through.

He happily accepted the bribe money
when there was no reason to be bribed.

But the minute they found something,
he got all noble and principled

and wanted to return the money.

- It would've ruined his career.
- Yeah, and mine, too, don't you see?

He never thought of that.

So Ian was a good man, really?

A relatively good man.

Which was good enough for some of us.

Technically,
you have not reached Temperance Brennan.

But if you leave a message,
it will reach her, me, Temperance Brennan.

Hey, sweetie. It's me.

Hodgins and I broke up.

And I won't really know why
until I speak to you.

So I'm just gonna crawl into bed
until you get home.

And then we can...

Angela.

Oh, God. You again.

I heard you broke up
with the small, angry man.

So before I leave,
I want to ask you one more time.

No. No one gets me. I'm nobody's.

I understand. Perhaps you can drive me
to the airport?

That's some kind of code for you, isn't it?

- Maybe I should take him.
- No. I'll take him.

What's this?

Look, it's been very interesting
working here,

but I'm a man of science.
And this place is just...

- It's very dramatic.
- Well said.

I just want to work in a regular lab,
you know?

- So, you want that ride or not?
- Yes, he does.

You know, Wexler was kind of like
a Robin Hood kind of a character.

Steal from the rich.

I turned down my chance
to sleep with Robin Hood?

Sometimes you just take the oddest leap.

Hey, Pritch.

Cheerio, mate.

Hello is fine.

On behalf of Her Majesty,
the Queen of England,

I dub you Sir Seeley Booth,

Knight of the Realm.

Wow.

- "Official Junior Knight."
- Look at that.

Wait a second. That's from a toy store.

Doesn't mean you're not Sir Galahad.

Thanks.

I'm sorry about Ian.

Me, too.

It was a real honor working with you both.

Same here.

If you need a lift to the airport...

- Bones, she got us a limo.
- Of course.

But if you're ever in the colonies...

It'd be lovely.

- She likes you.
- No.

Yes. And she's very sexual.

Enough. Let's just... Stop.

I'm gonna miss this place.

This is definitely not a diner.

- Come on.
- Yeah.

We should go
before someone else gets killed.

Yup, you're right. Here we go.

- My arm?
- Thank you.

- Thank you, Sir Seeley.
- Yes.

Pleasure, Lady Temperance.

You sound Australian.

That didn't sound Australian.

Well, it's definitely not English.

English - US - SDH