All language subtitles for Elementary - 4x16 - Hounded.HDTV.x264-DIMENSION.en

Subject is a 54-year-old
Caucasian male,

moderately overweight.

The hair on the left side of
the head is matted with blood,

but there are no apparent
external wounds.

Because he was stabbed
through the ear.

Ice pick?

Stiletto knife.

The assailant was right-handed,
shorter than the victim,

probably a woman.

The victim knew her

or was at least comfortable
enough with her

to let his guard down.

You here for a reason
or just to show off?

I'm here about the Gupta case.

Watson and I believe
we've identified

the individual who murdered him.

Trouble is, the DNA evidence
doesn't match our suspect.

Or anyone else
in Mr. Gupta's life.

There's no way anyone
but the killer left that sample.

I agree. It's the only thing
that makes sense.

So I did a little digging
and I found the DNA's source.

Great.

Who was it?
You.

You are the killer,
according to the evidence.

Got a sample of your DNA
from a discarded water bottle.

An outside lab compared that
to the test results

from the sample
found on the body.

Perfect match.

I contaminated the sample
with my own DNA.

Obviously it was a mistake.

These things happen
from time to time.

Never on my watch.

Can you still
close the case?

We have enough evidence to put
the true culprit away for life.

But the contaminated DNA test

will complicate things
for the prosecutor.

They're gonna want me to
testify, explain what happened.

Thanks for letting me know.

You still on for
chess this Thursday?

Been brushing up
on my Dvoretsky.

You're gonna have
your hands full.

Looking forward to it.

Mister, you okay?!

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Mister.

♪ Elementary 4x16 ♪
Hounded
Original Air Date on March 10, 2016

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Nice place.

It's a grotesquery.

It's an edifice
to its owner's wealth.

It's a brag made of brick,
stone and drywall.

My late father
built it.

After he plowed over
two farms and a school.

He named it
Baskerville Hall.

Small wonder that your father
and mine were friends.

Sherlock Holmes.

Henry.

And you must be
Miss Watson.

Yes. Hi.

He sends his condolences,
my father.

I appreciate that.
You said that

you had some concerns
over your brother's death.

I read about what happened.

According to the news,
it was an accident.

The coroner's report
said he was running,

slipped off an embankment
and got hit by a truck.

You sound skeptical.

Charles ran in
Central Park every day.

He knew those trails
backwards and forwards.

He wouldn't run near the top
of an embankment like that,

let alone accidentally
falling into traffic.

So you think he was pushed.

All I know is
my family has a lot of money.

And where there's money...

There's motive for murder.

Who stands to inherit
in the event of Charles's death?

I do.

But I loved Charles.

And I already have more money
than I know what to do with.

I think this may be
about his business.

He was a venture
capitalist.

He invested in tech start-ups,
and he was uncompromising

when it came to the
companies he backed.

I'm sure he made enemies.

Are you thinking
of anyone specific?

No. I just think
it's the best place to start.

Understood.

But any talk of motive
is premature at this point.

We would start by establishing
the facts of the case.

So you'll look into it?

We'll examine the scene
of Charles's death.

But not because of

your connection to my father.

If anything, we're gonna
have to look past that.

I'll pay you whatever you need.

My thoughts exactly.

We'll be in touch.

Henry Baskerville's wrong.

His brother wasn't pushed,
he was chased.

Looks like he ran
straight through these bushes.

He must've been
scraped up pretty badly,

but he never slowed down.

Adrenaline narrows
the field of vision.

Hence the term “a blind panic.”

It was night.

Charles was fleeing
a relentless pursuer.

He was running at full speed
and he glanced behind him

at whoever was chasing him.

He wouldn't have
seen the embankment

until it was too late.

The question is:
who was chasing him?

Ground's frozen; has
been for some time.

So no footprints.

But... notice how these branches
are broken twice.

Once by Charles,

once by his pursuer.

Whoever was chasing him
was big.

Several inches
wider than Charles.

Ran with a low stance.

What is it?

Someone else.

A third party.

Forced their way through here
from just behind this tree.

Headed south.

Away from Charles
and whoever was chasing him.

Judging by
the degree of browning

on the breaking points of this
twig, I'd say that both paths

were created
at roughly the same time.

So maybe a witness.

Saw something, ran.

What was he doing here, alone
in the middle of the night

in the dead of winter?

He was drinking.

Fortified wine
of the cheapest variety.

It's from a liquor store just
half a mile south of here.

Time-stamped an hour before
Charles's death.

Should be more than enough for
you to track down our witness.

Me?

Where you going?

It's the first
Thursday of the month.

Wait, you're leaving
to go play chess?

Hey, spare a little change?

Hey, s-spare some change
for an Iraq vet?

Here you go.

I'd like to ask you
a few questions.

Pretty lady gives me a 20,
she can do whatever she wants.

You bought a bottle
of fortified wine

from BRN Liquor
a few nights ago.

They gave me your name,
said you were a regular,

told me that you
work this area.

They treat me okay.

They don't act like
I got the plague or nothing.

You brought the
bottle to the park,

and then you saw something that
scared you, and you ran away.

I don't want to talk
to you anymore.

Hey, I just want to know
what you saw.

No, y-you're from
the hospital.

Y-You just want me to
say something crazy

so you can take me away.

Y-You want me
to take my meds.

No, I just want to know
what you saw.

And I want to help you
find a place to stay tonight.

Here, you can take the money
either way.

There was this guy.

H-He was running,
he was afraid.

Did you see who was chasing him?

It wasn't a who, it was a what.

What do you mean?

It was an animal.

Big like a... like a bear
or like a giant wolf.

It had this-this
crazy growl like...

And it was glowing.

Like a lantern.

It was glowing?

Checkmate.

The usual.

Actually, Eugene, your play has
been distinctly subpar today.

Are you aware
that our average game lasts

approximately 46 moves?

I don't really
keep track.

It speaks to your skill.

And yet, today we've played
four games of

21, 33, 28 and 19 moves.

Add that to your rather
sleepy disposition,

your work on the Gupta case,
and, uh...

I must say, I'm concerned.

I'm fine.

Two months ago, a bomb
went off in this facility

and a close friend of yours
was killed in the blast.

You yourself were nearly killed.

I can only imagine
the trepidation you must feel

coming to work here.

It's a small wonder
you've started

taking anti-anxiety medication

while at work.

Lot of people take
anti-anxiety meds.

That may be,
but based on my observations,

you're taking
an unusually large dose,

enough to produce
mild cognitive impairment.

19 moves, Eugene.

And you missed
an obvious avenue of escape.

I'm sorry I'm not
giving good chess.

Like you said, I have
a lot on my mind.

Yeah, and yet
you're not in therapy.

You're just self-medicating.

I'm fine.

Lunch break's over.

I should get back to it.

You've got another 13 minutes.

Yeah, well, maybe I've taken
enough beatings for one day.

Thanks for the games.

What's all that?

Case materials.

Those are old cases.

What are they doing
back up here?

I expected you home
hours ago.

Were you not able to find
the man who witnessed

Charles Baskerville's
run through the woods?

I found him.

Helped him find a shelter.

He was homeless.

Did he see
who was chasing Charles?

Sort of.

Giant, glowing wolf.

Or a very small bear.

Like I said,
the guy was off his meds,

he was drunk. I mean...

Why do you look like

you're taking
this seriously?

Because it is,
in its way,

a confirmation that Charles
was chased to his death.

By a giant four-legged animal
that was lit up like a lantern.

As you said, the man you spoke
with was in an altered state--

maybe two-- but he was there
and he did see something.

What if Charles's pursuer

was just a large man in bulky,
light-reflecting winter gear?

Oh, you have
a very large man in mind?

While you were out,

Henry Baskerville
gave me access

to his brother's
social media account.

As you know, it's common

for such accounts
to become memorials

in the event
of their user's death.

I wanted to see who had
visited Charles's page

and who'd left
their condolences,

and I discovered this.

It's a messaging app.

There are two distinct inboxes--

one for friends and one for
messages from strangers.

There's no evidence that Charles
ever accessed either of them.

But the second inbox
drew my attention.

“You're committing
crimes against nature.

You will reap the whirlwind.”

These are death threats.

All left by the same
anonymous user.

He apparently took issue
with Charles's biotech ventures

under the aegis
of one of his companies,

Baskerville Genetics.

Producers of such horrors
as drought-resistant rice

and improved-yield cotton.

And you couldn't find him.

He's proven quite adept
at concealing his identity.

But he did let slip one
telling personal detail.

“Pray we never
meet in person.

I'm twice your size.”

You really think
that someone killed Charles

because of the work
we were doing?

The work you do
is controversial.

Well, it shouldn't be.

As you can see, the genetically
modified organisms we create

are harmless.

Pest-resistant potatoes.

Hens that can
produce more eggs.

The fact remains,
Charles Baskerville received

death threats over
his association with this lab,

and then died.

Well, we all
receive threats.

It's a hazard
of the trade.

One of the people

who sent threats
to Charles stood out.

The way he described himself

fit the physical description
of our killer.

We thought if he threatened
anyone else here,

we might be able
to identify him.

If I could see
the notes in question...

Sherlock has them on his phone.

That is not
a pest-resistant potato.

No, that's Cornwall.

He's a very special dog.

I can tell.

Oh, my God.

It's glowing.

Is he also modified
to account for his whereabouts

the night Charles Baskerville
was murdered?

Good boy.

Technically,
Cornwall's a chimera.

An animal with genetic material
from two different species.

In his case,
we introduced

jellyfish DNA to make
his skin bioluminescent.

He seems very sweet.

He is.

And he loved Charles.

They used to throw
that ball around all the time.

As for Cornwall's whereabouts
the night Charles died,

he's never left the lab.

How can you be certain?

We monitor him
constantly.

The jellyfish DNA
is an experiment.

If he stays healthy,

that means we can
introduce genetic code

for resisting cancer

or enhancing motor skills,
controlling blood sugar.

You name it.

Well, he could be
the “GMO-trocity”

that triggered the threats.

People who send
those kinds of messages

aren't particularly discerning
in their judgments.

“GMO-trocity”?

The person you're
looking for used

that exact term?

Multiple times a message.

Yes, I received similar threats.

Dozens a week.

Actually, our security people
are looking into it.

I'll call them.

I hope by now

they've managed
to locate the sender.

Mr. Selden,
we work with the police.

Please answer the door.

I can hear you breathing.
Open up.

Or would you prefer we spoke
with your probation officer?

What do you want?

I heard about
Charles Baskerville's

little accident on the news.

Couldn't have happened
to a nicer perverter of science.

Actually,

we don't think it
was an accident.

Not exactly.

We think someone was chasing
him the night that he died.

And you thought that I...?

Baskerville was offed
Sunday night, right?

Just after 9:00.

I was at a comedy club
with my sister.

Big mistake.

Every bozo that got onstage

made me the centerpiece
of their routines.

Fat shaming is the last
acceptable prejudice in America.

We found you through your
posts on anti-GMO Web sites.

We know that you communicate
with a lot of people

who share your outlook.

Do you think any of them ever
threatened Charles Baskerville?

Nah. The people on those sites
are mostly whiners and posers.

Unlike you?

I put myself

out there.

GMOs are a threat
to human existence.

Modified foods
can make us sick.

Modified diseases
could wipe us out.

I tell the people making
the stuff what's what.

So you've sent threats
to people

other than the employees
of Baskerville Genetics?

Take a look at my research
on the table.

Go ahead.

You think they're the only ones
creating abominations?

This is a chicken?

Engineered to be

featherless
for easier processing.

You could've eaten one of those
and not even known it.

Hmm.

Hey, you should
take a look at this.

What precisely is this?

A war dog.

Made for the U.S. military.

It's supposed to be stronger,

smarter and faster
than a normal dog.

And willing to kill on command.

But, hey, let them

keep telling you
how harmless GMOs are.

Oh, I'll admit Charles and I
had our disagreements.

He underbid you

on several valuable contracts.

Beat you to market
with drought-resistant rice

and stole a dozen
of your employees.

Then he got hit by a truck--
karma.

I'm still not sure why I'm here.

The department's decided
to reopen the investigation

into Charles Baskerville's
death.

We now have reason to believe
he was murdered.

You think I did it?

A witness told us

that Charles was chased down
by some sort of strange animal.

It might even be
as strange as this.

You think I sicced
one of these on him?

And being accused of murder
is humorous why?

Because this animal
doesn't exist.

We have evidence
that your company

has been developing
these so-called war dogs

for the U.S. military.

According to public records,
the U.S. Army Research

Laboratory gave you $5 million
in preliminary development funds

for something they call
“an enhanced canine asset.”

They did,
but that picture's a mock-up.

It's concept art
from our proposal,

the one that got us
that grant.

So you're saying you never
actually developed these dogs?

The Army wanted the animals
to be fast, strong, smart,

practically wanted them to talk.

It was too much.

We tried a dozen
different approaches,

but every attempt ended up
either stillborn or nonviable.

Got any way to prove that?

Call the ARL.

When they saw our results,
they cut off our funding.

Point is,
I can't kill anyone

with a super dog
that doesn't exist.

Look, you want to identify
people who wanted Charles dead?

Easy-- make a list of everyone
he ever patent-jacked.

You know about
the patent-jacking, right?

Patent-jacking?

A neologism for
the hijacking of patents.

Or so I infer.

Charles Baskerville had it
down to an art form.

Now say you're a start-up with
a brilliant idea but no money.

He'd give you
working capital in exchange

for shares in the company
and seats on your board.

But once he had
a controlling interest, bang.

He'd liquidate the company
and sell off its assets.

Mostly to himself.

And most especially the patents.

He stole the hopes and dreams of
dozens of brilliant inventors.

If you really think someone
sent a monster after him,

I'd start with them.

Corporate records of

Charles Baskerville's meetings
with more than

30 of his alleged
patent-jacking victims.

We do not want

for suspects.

I'm surprised Henry
didn't mention

this patent-jacking before.

Well, it's possible
he wasn't aware.

Some people have a way
of blinding themselves

to the faults of those
that they love or admire.

Did you know that
American icon

Thomas Edison used
similar techniques

to acquire many of his patents?

He would invite
young inventors

to show him their creations,

and then he would
have his employees

reverse-engineer their work
and then patent the results.

The real inventors

wouldn't see a penny.

I get it now.
Yeah.

The only thing Edison didn't
patent was patent-jacking.

No, I'm not talking about that;
I'm talking about

all this stuff
that you've been reading.

Our recent cases-- Hawes.

Yeah, he's been struggling.

That Gupta thing.

The contaminated DNA.

I wanted to make certain that
there weren't other mistakes.

And?

I found some typos.

His reports have been
more perfunctory of late.

That's it?

For now.

After everything that happened,
he was prescribed

certain medications, and I fear
he's been misusing them.

That's why you left yesterday
to talk to him.

Mm-hmm.
How'd it go?

Poorly.

Is there anything
you want me to...?

No, I think I know
what I need to do next.

Hmm.

Find something?

I think Henry did know about
his brother's patent-jacking.

These are minutes from
a meeting that Charles had

with one of those companies
he screwed over.

Henry was in attendance.

If he was present at other
meetings with other victims,

that would suggest he was
an active participant

in his brother's crime.

If Charles really was killed
over patent-jacking,

Henry could be a target, too.

Charles didn't
do anything wrong.

The owners of the start-ups
he liquidated

were well compensated.

Did they want more than that?

Maybe, but I can't see
any of them

being angry enough
to commit murder.

Imagine you're one of the
inventors that Charles fleeced.

Imagine watching him make
millions from your brainchild,

while you're forced
to walk away

with $100,000 and
a hearty handshake.

I'll take a look at my notes

from the meetings
you mentioned, okay?

See if anyone stands out,
but that's the best I can...

Henry?

Sorry.

Thought I saw something
in my backyard.

What the hell?

Something wrong?

There's something out there.

It's glowing.

Henry, stay away
from the windows.

What the hell's going on?

We're not sure, but whatever it
is, we think it chased Charles

into traffic the other night.

Just don't let it get
anywhere near you.

We're calling the police.

Can-can you describe
what you saw?

Uh, I... I-I don't know.

Uh, it's an animal,
uh, it's on four legs.

Oh, my God.

It's in the house.

Henry, what's that noise?

It-it's the animal,
it's the thing.

Tell me the cops are coming.

Henry, be quiet.

It's in the damn house.

It's breaking down the door.

Henry, I think I might know
what's attacking you.

I need you to go outside,
go to your swimming pool.

Keep the swimming pool
between you and it.

But...

The swimming pool. Now, Henry!

Police are
on their way.

We're consultants
with the NYPD.

Captain Gregson called about us.

I have no idea what it is.

I've never seen
anything like it before.

Excuse me.

Hey. Are you okay?

Yes, thanks to
your partner.

You said to keep the
pool between me and it.

How did you know it would
try to run across the tarp?

Only slightly
less outrageous

than a glowing mastiff,
wouldn't you agree?

Just when you think
you've seen everything.

You said it was based
on one of the patents

Charles Baskerville looted?

Several, actually.

From multiple sources.

That's one of the reasons
I wasn't able

to work out
its true nature sooner.

Yeah, about that.

The distinctive growl
I heard over the phone,

that was the first clue,
and that comes

from these high-efficiency
hybrid engines

developed by
Devonshire Robotics.

The vague dog-like
appearance is

due to this reinforced frame--

that was patented
by a different company.

A third company developed
these terrain-adaptive legs.

So on, so forth.

Charles only held on

to biotech and genetic
engineering patents for himself.

The rest he sold off.

So someone bought
his stolen patents

and made a Terminator.

Sherlock shared
what we know

with a friend who works in

automation
and artificial intelligence.

She confirmed
that it employs

fire-and-forget targeting,
like a missile.

An operator pilots it
until it acquires

a visual lock on its target,

at which point it can be ordered
to eliminate that target

without any further input.

That's why it fell
into the covered pool.

It was target-fixated on Henry.

It charged at him full-speed,

didn't realize the tarp
wasn't solid ground.

I don't see any guns.

How did it expect to kill him

once it caught him?

It tore through a solid oak door
with its front legs.

It was gonna stomp him to death?

Do we know
whose idea it was

to build this thing?

We can guess
who paid for it, right?

The military, same as with those
genetically-engineered war dogs?

Unfortunately, they haven't
returned our calls.

As far as the
actual manufacturer,

we've got calls into
Devonshire Robotics

and the other plundered firms.

And hopefully one of them
will be able to tell us

who acquired
their patents.

Welcome to
Stapleton Innovations.

I'm Rodger Stapleton.

Yeah, Detective Bell.

This is Sherlock Holmes
and Joan Watson.

They consult for
the department.

Like to ask you

a few questions about this.

Where'd you find it?

At the home of the man
it tried to maul last night.

We were hoping you could
explain how it got there.

We shot this a few months ago.

I think it'll help explain a few
things about the Gus machine.

You named your
killer robot Gus?

Oh, it wasn't
designed to kill.

It's supposed to carry gear for
the infantry, like a pack mule.

And yet we're investigating two
different attacks by your mule,

one of them fatal.

Someone obviously used

one of the Guses in a
way that was off-spec.

“One of the Guses”?

We've built a total
of ten Gus robots.

The one used in the attacks
has to be Gus Five.

And how can you be certain?

Because Gus Five
is... was missing.

About six weeks ago,
we shipped Gus Five

to the Army Research Lab's
proving grounds

in Maryland.

They said he
never arrived.

Did you call the police?

The ARL ordered
us not to.

The entire project
is classified.

They assigned the case

to the Defense Criminal
Investigation Service.

Some agents came and
conducted interviews,

but that was the last
we heard from them.

And you're sure it was
stolen in transit?

Well, we haven't
ruled anything out.

Could have been taken
by someone here.

It also could have been someone
at the shipping company

or the testing facility.

Or maybe it wasn't
an inside job at all.

Can you think of anyone
in Stapleton Innovations

who might have motive to kill
Charles and Henry Baskerville?

Actually, I can.

Me.

Did Henry tell you about
the Baskerville trust?

He did not.

You know each other?

The trust is where Charles
got most of his money,

from the estate of
Hugo Baskerville,

the rail baron.

It passes,

intact,
to the oldest surviving heir.

That was Charles;
now it's Henry.

I'm their cousin.

So you're next in line.

Next and last,
as far as anyone knows.

But I loved Charles;
same goes for Henry.

I wouldn't hurt them,
not for anything.

Can you tell us

where you were last night
and Sunday evening?

Montana.

I got back
this morning.

Charles's funeral
is tomorrow.

I go on a grouse hunting trip
every year with my friends.

They'll tell you,
I was there the whole week.

The Baskerville trust seems
like a strong motive for murder.

Yeah, but Stapleton's alibi
seemed pretty solid,

unless you think
he could've remote-controlled

Gus Five from Montana.

Anything's possible.

Well, maybe we should look
at the Army Research Lab.

Could be someone there
up to no good.

I don't think we'll have
to go that far afield.

It's a nice smoking area.

You want to tell us
what you're looking for?

Looking for someone.

The individual who smokes
this brand of cigarette.

Who?

You didn't smell it on him
during the meeting?

Mr. Barrymore.

So nice of you
to join us.

Your arrival in this
area was inevitable

after such a
stressful meeting.

Uh, something wrong?

Well, it was clear that you
were hiding something from us.

Specifically, you
seemed uncomfortable

when your boss was
providing his alibi.

So I'd like to know why.

You withhold information

on a murder case, Mr. Barrymore,
that's felony obstruction.

Look, Rodger was lying
through his teeth, all right?

He wasn't in Montana.

How do you know?

It's an open secret
at the company

that his hunting trips are BS.

He lies to his wife about them,
and we all have to cover.

Is there a mistress?

More like a series of
professional arrangements.

He goes whoring.

I ran into him at a
strip club in Manhattan once

when he was supposed to be
hunting elk in Colorado.

He was with this girl,
really expensive-looking.

He invited me
to sit with him.

We had drinks.

I even walked him
back to his hotel.

Do you remember
where this was in Manhattan?

It's some fancy place.

Uh, the Undershaw?

That's less than a mile from
where Charles Baskerville died.

If you're here
for another match...

I'm not.

No new homicide victims
since yesterday,

so you're not here
for a body.

No, I'm here for you.

Look...

I told you yesterday...

You're not fine, Eugene.

I know.

And I know 'cause I've
been where you are.

I'm an addict now?

No.

See, there was this woman,
once upon a time, right?

And to me, uh...

to me, she was
the woman, you know?

And she died.

Well,
I thought she did.

And I lost myself.

Yeah, the pain was, um...

it was very intense,
so I began to self-medicate,

and then my work
began to suffer,

and I-I made
these small mistakes.

Small errors at
first, and then

much larger ones.

And eventually my own
ineptitude was so apparent

that... I couldn't deny it.

And my self-esteem shattered.

And then I just,
I fell into this spiral

of... self-pity,
addiction and-and despair.

I... I don't know

whether you're an addict or not.

Uh, I don't think you are.

But you're not well.

I'm hurting.

But I'll manage.

I am managing.

You just...

You're standing
on a precipice...

and I cannot watch you
tumble over it, mate.

I refuse to.

All right?

Your signature on

room service receipts.

Testimony from hotel staff
confirming you were a guest.

And final receipt charged
to Stapleton Innovations.

You already admitted you had

motive to kill
the Baskervilles.

To top it off, the department's
computer experts

confirmed that
your activation codes

were used to trigger
the Gus robot

when it attacked
Charles and Henry.

It's not looking good for you,
Mr. Stapleton.

You might think about
cutting a deal with the D.A.

I didn't do it.

That's not what
the evidence says.

The evidence
is wrong.

I already told you.

I loved Charles.
I love Henry.

And my activation codes
aren't much of a secret.

I use them in front
of my employees all the time.

And, yes, I may not
have been in Montana,

but I wasn't alone either.

I was with a friend

at the time of
Charles's death.

I was with another friend on the
night that Henry was attacked.

I'm happy to have them
confirm my story.

I'm guessing
when you say “friend,”

you mean prostitute.

If you paid them
for their company,

they're not gonna be
the most credible witnesses.

You want proof that
I didn't try to kill my cousins

to inherit
the Baskerville trust?

Fine. I have a perfect way
to do that.

We're listening.

I'll punch him in the face.

Or you.

Rodger...
No.

Either way, it's assault
on a police officer-- a felony.

Four witnesses-- there's
no way I dodge a conviction.

And it would prove
you're innocence how?

The terms of
Hugo Baskerville's will

are very clear.

No one guilty of a felony
can inherit the trust.

I'm convicted of assault,
I'll be disinherited.

So how 'bout it?

Hold on to your hat.

Rodger Stapleton's friends

backed up his alibi.

And were they both
ladies of the night?

Yes.

Stapleton was paying
for their services

the two nights in question.

It's hard to imagine
he's not paying them again now.

You seem determined to
keep him as a suspect.

It was hard to buy anything
he was selling today.

Even that offer
to plead guilty to a felony.

Maybe he thought it was worth
sacrificing his inheritance

to avoid a murder conviction.

It's possible.

But if the evidence
is telling us a different story,

perhaps we should listen.

You have a better suspect
in the Baskerville family tree?

Hypothetically, thousands.
And none.

Even if we're wrong
about the murderer,

we could be right
about the motive.

Killing Henry and Charles
and framing Rodger

with one of his robots

clears the way for another
claimant to the trust.

Okay, so who's next in line?

At first glance,
no one.

It appears the
Baskerville men,

apart from Hugo himself,
struggle with infertility.

Henry and Charles
have no children.

Rodger Stapleton
has no legitimate offspring.

And as far as I can tell,
no by-blows from his wenching.

There's also been a
fair share of bad luck.

Henry and Charles's sister Clara
died of cancer in her teens.

Their first cousin
was killed in Afghanistan,

and Rodger's older brother Ike

died in a car crash
in Australia.

So after Charles's death,

the only living heirs
are Rodger and Henry.

The only known living heirs.

I reviewed
Hugo Baskerville's will.

For a man
of his time,

he was remarkably enlightened
about bastards.

He allowed that
a lovechild could inherit,

provided there were
no legitimate heirs remaining.

So while the many branches

of this tree might
appear barren,

who's to say that
some unknown cross-pollination

has not borne fruit?

If that's true,

all we have to do
is look through...

120 years of birth records
to find a new suspect.

We could spend

the next few months
doing genealogical research,

but I think there might be
a more expeditious way

to identify the murderous
Baskerville heir.

I don't know.

I suppose there could be
another heir,

but he or she could've been born
anywhere in the world,

at any time in the last century

to any one of
several dozen people.

True, but I believe there's
a way to find our needle

without searching
a world full of haystacks.

All you need to do is murder
your cousin, Rodger Stapleton.

It's, like, 100 degrees in here.

It's precisely 95 degrees.

Ideal for yoga and tortoises.

I thought it best
not to overtax the furnace.

Yeah, well, as long as you don't
set all those papers on fire.

Reexamining the evidence

will not help events
progress any faster.

So no news.

Nothing as of yet.

You know, it's been five days
since Henry killed Rodger.

I'm well aware, thank you.

What about Hawes?
Have you heard from him?

Finally.

It appears our endgame
has begun.

My Australian birth certificate,

listing my father
as Ike Stapleton.

You'll forgive my skepticism,

but no one in the family has had
any contact with Ike Stapleton

since he left the U.S. in 1972.

He died when I was five.
Car crash.

My mom says he was
a bit of a hippie.

They weren't together long,
but she says I have his chin.

I don't hear
an Australian accent.

I lost it.

Years ago, when I moved
to L.A. for college.

Look, I know I don't look much
like a Baskerville,

and I know I kind of
just came out of nowhere,

but I'm happy to take
a DNA test if you'd like.

Did Rodger know that you were
his niece when he hired you?

Of course.

If you won't
take my word for it...

take his.

Uh, this is...

e-mail correspondence between
you and Mr. Stapleton?

Uncle Rodger

tracked me down
when I was in college.

We exchanged the occasional
e-mail over the years,

and when I got my masters in
robotics, he offered me a job.

He never mentioned
any of this to me.

Or to the Baskervilles.

And he never mentioned
the Baskervilles to me.

Not once.

I only found out
about the trust last week

when the police came to see him.

You know, all this time,
I thought

he tracked me down
to make up for the way

he treated my father, but now I
wonder if he was setting me up.

Setting you up?

I would have made a good patsy

for when he killed his cousins,
don't you think?

What was that?

I have some guests.

Good show, Miss Lyons.

Quite clever of you to posit
that Rodger wanted to frame you,

when in fact, you framed Rodger.

Oh, that's right.

You thought he was dead,
didn't you?

Murdered by Henry here.

Conveniently making you the
heir to the Baskerville trust.

Well, it was
in all the papers.

But you of all people
should know

not to believe
everything you read.

The e-mails she just handed over
were forgeries, right?

I sure as hell
didn't write them.

You tricked me.

We created a vacuum,
and the heir rushed in.

Or more specifically,
the heiress.

We recorded
your meeting with Miss Chambers.

It doesn't prove
that you sent Gus Five

after the Baskerville brothers,
but it should be enough

for police to get a warrant
to search your home and car.

Your plan was elaborate and
quite some time in the making,

so it's hard to believe there
isn't some evidence to be found.

It's true,

she does have
your brother's chin.

♪ Stories we have ♪

♪ That we tell ourselves ♪

♪ Stories that bend
with time... ♪

♪ Histories change
like books on a shelf... ♪

Eugene. Come in.

♪ Pages that need a rewrite... ♪

I, um...

came by to give you these.

Files on your fellow M.E.s?

The three most likely to put up
with your, uh, visits.

Pick one, and I will warn the
unlucky winner what to expect.

So you're going somewhere.

You were right.

As usual.

I've been struggling.

I told the chief M.E.
what's been going on,

and, uh, we decided
it might be best for me

to take medical leave
till I can get my head straight.

Until then, call me

the P.T.S.D.M.E.

Well, you'll be back.

Maybe a month or two.

Maybe never.

I get, uh, offers all the time
to run my own morgue.

Smaller cities, mostly.

Portsmouth, Tucson,

Boise.

More pay, less stress.

Fewer memories.

Well, any one of them's
going to be lucky to have you.

I'm just thinking it over
so far.

I'll keep you posted.

But, in case
I decide to move on...

...thank you.

For bullying some sense into me.

What are bullies for?

♪ We leave behind... ♪

♪ Stories ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh... ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh ♪

♪ Stories ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh... ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man