All language subtitles for Elementary.S03E13.WEB-DL.x264.Hun.Eng-Krissz.en

Previously on Elementary...
Hi, I'm Andrew Mittal.

What, you found your next business?
I think so.

So I called the airline, and
I can't stay the whole time,

but I've always wanted
to see Copenhagen.

You say that I saved you,

but the way that I see it,

you gave me everything.

Have you decided
where you're going to go?

Your romantic inclinations are
not a flaw to be corrected,

they're a trait to be accepted.

I know you, Watson.

I know you'll never be happy
within the confines

of a "traditional relationship."

I'm happy with Andrew.

But would you be happier
without him?

Elizabeth Short...
she disappeared January the 9th.

Her body was found,
bisected and exsanguinated,

on January the 14th.

Exsanguinated?

Drained of blood.

Oh.

Elizabeth Short.

I know the name.

The press dubbed her
"The Black Dahlia"

shortly after
her murder.

Yeah, I maintain,
um, several files

of unsolved cases
to keep me stimulated

when interesting work
fails to come in.

And this is one
of them.

How are you supposed to solve
a murder from the 1930s?

1947.

It's not impossible.

I did it with
the Whitechapel killings,

and they date back
to the 1800s.

Whitechapel?

You knew who Jack
the Ripper is?

See, I-I've long
postulated a connection

between the death
of Ms. Short

and the killing
of a young girl in Chicago

named Suzanne Degnan
in the year prior.

See, letters from both killers
use similar phrasing

and similar combinations
of letters.

Don't you think?

Maybe.

I don't know.

No, no, b-but look.

Wh-What do you think?

J-Just venture
an opinion.

Well, wh-what about you?

I don't know.

Can we do something
besides talk about murder?

Are you lonely?

That's not the point.

Jack Anderson Wilson
is a valuable suspect,

but there's no evidence
he was ever in Chicago.

Wilson sometimes used
the alias Arnold Smith.

If I can demonstrate that
Arnold Smith went to Chicago,

then we might have
something worth discussing.

Not that you're much
of a conversationalist.

State your business.

Um...

My name is, uh,
Jill Horowitz.

Uh, an acquaintance
of mine says

you're the best
P.I. in the city.

Is this a bad time?

On the contrary,
it's the perfect time.

My husband Steven is an
attorney at Dorchester-Reid.

You say those words
as if they're supposed

to hold some
significance for me.

It's one of the top
law firms in the city.

Steven has been, um,
distant lately.

Works odd hours,

makes ridiculous
excuses.

For a lawyer,
he's a terrible liar.

You suspect your husband
is having an affair.

He has to be.

They work long hours, but lately
it's been worse than usual.

Steven has pulled plenty
of all-nighters,

but I haven't seen him
in two days.

You haven't seen or spoken
to your husband in 48 hours?

He's missing.
Please.

You have to lead an interesting
life to be missing.

All Steven does is work.

He left me.

I want you to do
the P.I. thing.

Find where he is, who he's with.

Get me some pictures
that I can use in court.

You keep using the phrase "P.I."

That's not what I do.

The marital squabbles
of two petit bourgeois

Manhattanites interest me
not a whit.

Fine.

Normally, that is,
they'd interest me not a whit.

But you've caught me
at something

of a vulnerable moment.

I could use a distraction.

That's a pretty
good likeness.

Imagine sitting for an oil
portrait in this day and age.

The hubris practically
leaks off the canvas.

You had sex this morning.

Excuse me?

Your stride indicates
a recent release of tension.

Is Andrew in town?

Or have you taken
another lover?

He got in yesterday.

He's back in town for good.

The model factory's up
and running in Copenhagen,

so now he can work
from the States.

And you can be
a full-time couple.

You must be thrilled.

Absolutely.

Sure.

So why are we looking
into a cheating husband?

Are you that
desperate for work?

I used to relish
my solitude.

But the truth is,
I've grown accustomed

to having a companion
at the brownstone.

The place feels a little bit
empty these days.

No word from Kitty?

You know you can always
call me if you want to talk.

You want
your independence.

I will not intrude.

Anyway, this work might
turn out to be interesting.

Before you got here,
I told the receptionist

I was here
to see Steven Horowitz.

She said there's no one
of that name working here.

His wife said
Dorchester-Reid, right?

Mm-hmm.

You're the ones
looking for Steven?

Look, I don't know
what to tell you.

Steven was an associate here
until about six months ago.

They let him go.

Do you know why?

We have a bloodletting
from time to time.

Guess they didn't think
he was partner material.

His wife is under the
impression he still works here.

She gave us a phone number
which matches your exchanges.

Like I said,
don't know what to tell you.

But I got to go.

This isn't billable.

What are you doing?

I'm calling the number
Steven's wife gave us.

Steven Horowitz's office.

Yes, hello, is that
the same Steven Horowitz

who works as an attorney
at Dorchester-Reid?

That's right.

You're thinking whoever answered
the phone is somewhere in there.

Mm-hmm.

Excuse me.

I'll only be
a moment, I'm just...

Steven Horowitz's office.

Hello, is he in?

Not at the moment...
can I take a message?

I'd really like
to speak with him.

We're supposed to be playing
racquetball at the moment.

Racquetball?
Steven doesn't play racquetball.

Are you telling me I'm not
standing on a racquetball court

as we speak?

I don't know where
you are, sir.

Well, that's a shame.

If you had a bit more
spatial awareness,

you'd realize I was standing
right behind you.

Would you mind telling us
why you're pretending

to be the secretary of a man

who hasn't worked here
in six months?

Please, you can't tell anyone

that I am still answering
Steven's phones.

They are always
looking for an excuse

to fire people
around here.

Admins are in charge
of deactivating the phones

when someone is let go,
but Steven begged me not to.

He pays me a little every week
just to keep answering.

So he wants people to think
he's still working here.

I guess.

It's mostly his wife who calls.

Just forward it
to a cell most of the time.

That's kind of a big lie...
she never caught on?

Steven and Jill are not
the most connected couple.

She does a lot of charity work,
he works long hours.

I guess she would have
found out eventually,

but I'm not surprised
he fooled her.

Is there any reason
why he didn't just tell her?

He never said.

But the name "Dorchester-Reid"
opens a lot of doors.

Steven and Jill live
in a co-op building,

they belong
to the Braebury Club.

I guess he just wanted
to keep up appearances.

Well, that's all fine and
dandy until the bill comes due.

I handled Steven's mail
for two years.

He didn't have much savings,

but there was money
coming in from somewhere.

You think he was involved
in something illegal?

I don't know.

But his wife wasn't
the only one who called.

Some of the other people
sounded a little...

I don't know, shady?

Most of them wouldn't
even leave their names.

When he offered me money
to answer the phones,

I assumed I'd get
a check every week.

Instead, he sent cash.

It was like he didn't want
there to be a paper trail.

Did you get paid recently?

Yeah, I got an envelope
a couple days ago.

I was gonna bring it
to the bank at lunch.

Can I...?

Thanks.

No return address.

Postmarked 11101.

Long Island City.
It's not near his home.

Perhaps it's near
his new business.

This stain is horchata.

Specifically,
Salvadoran horchata.

The morro seeds
give it away.

So his office might
be near a place

that serves Salvadoran food
in Long Island City.

Mmm. Thank you.
You've been most helpful.

You're free to resume your life
of tedium and petty deception.

I give you Long Island City's
foremost purveyors

of tamales, pupusas,
and, of course, horchata.

According to the online reviews,

the cuisine is thoroughly
authentic, although the ambience

can be ruined by the appearance
of an occasional rat.

That explains the notice
from the health department.

So, what are we
looking for here?

Signs of Steven?

Hey, have you ever thought
about getting a roommate?

At times, you seem
to understand me quite well,

and then you'll do something
like ask if I've considered

taking on a flatmate.

Why is that such
a weird question?

You like being around people.

You are not people, Watson.
Neither was Kitty.

People, in case
you haven't noticed,

are a crassulent,
beef-witted lot.

Okay, no idea what
crassulent means,

but I'm not saying
take an ad online.

I mean, you've got a lot of
interesting acquaintances.

I'm sure one of them wouldn't
mind getting a cheap room

in a huge brownstone.

And who do you have in mind?

Well, it probably shouldn't be
someone from the program.

Hey, what about Ms. Hudson?
She's smart.

I know far too much about
that woman's love life as it is.

Hmm, Mason's too young.

What about the Nose?

He seems tidy.

The Nose owns half
of Washington Heights.

I hardly think he has use
for my spare bedroom.

Well, there has
to be somebody.

Oh, thank goodness.
For what?

I found a way
out of this conversation.

The file I gave you
on Horowitz,

you read the piece
about his car?

Yeah, black Lexus, license plate
begins with a "P," I think.

PCT

2093.

This is his car.

Oh.

Street cleaning violation.

Wednesday afternoon.

This car has been here
for a few days.

SMH Incorporated.

Steven Matthew Horowitz.

Looks like this place
shut down in a hurry.

Judging by the age of the mold
that has accrued in this cup,

I'd say it was active
less than a week ago.

So around the same time
that Steven disappeared.

The two are in all
likelihood connected.

The question is,
which came first?

A lot of phones.

Looks like they were
selling something.

See the way the dust
has settled?

There was a carpet runner here

on the floor
until a few days ago.

The fire extinguisher
is missing.

No sign of a fire.

I suspect it was used
for off-label purposes.

Looks like blood.

This is reason enough
to call Captain Gregson.

That's a piece of brain matter.

I just talked to the M.E.

Preliminary DNA confirms that
the blood and brain matter

both belong
to Steven Horowitz.

Well, we got canine units
combing the area.

No sign of a body.

Be very surprised
if you find one.

The killer most likely
wrapped it

in the missing carpet runner
and then transported it by car.

So he could've gone anywhere.
He?

Well, Steven Horowitz
kept himself

in reasonably good shape.

I think it's very unlikely
that a woman

beat him to death
with a fire extinguisher.

Though not impossible,
of course.

Watson, I've got
every confidence

that you could brain a man
with a metal tube

if you put your
mind to it.

That's very nice
of you to say.

What about the wife?

You said they didn't get along?

You think she could've
hired someone to do this?

Well, we can't rule it out.

But I can't imagine why
she would commit murder

and then hire me.

Hmm.

Where are we on SMH Inc.?

Any idea what it is yet?

It's been around since August.

Steven Horowitz was
the only officer on record,

so we're pulling the W-2s
to look for employees.

I'll let you know
what we get.

What about the phone records?

The offices were clearly

some sort of a calling center.

We're running that down.

Everyone's closed for the night,

but we should have
them first thing.

Okay, I got to notify
the wife.

Perhaps you and I should retire
to my home,

develop further theories.

What's to develop?
We'll get the records

in the morning
and go from there.

Oh, would you rather
not be alone?

Don't talk twaddle.

I just want to maintain focus.

Well, I'd hang out,
but I'm making dinner with Andrew tonight.

Well, I don't hang out, Watson.

Well, call me

if you're going crazy,
and think about the roommate.

I'm not moving in with you.

I didn't ask you to.

The Tribeca space

is obviously centrally located,

but I don't know.
It's small.

And it's Tribeca.

People are very cool in Tribeca.

You're cool.
Thanks.

You know what I mean.

If I go to Bushwick,
I get actual bay windows,

an office with a
door that closes,

and room to grow.

Well, sounds like you already
made up your mind.

Go Bushwick.

So, dinner is ready.

Okay, don't judge me.

Ah.

Oh, uh, hey,
my dad called this afternoon.

Uh, he's in town tomorrow
on business.

He wants to take
us out for dinner.

If you're free, that is.

Uh, sure.

I'd love to meet him.

Don't worry.

It's not meeting my dad.

It's just dinner.

Totally low-key.

Can I tell him 7:30?

Yeah.

Do you feel good about yourself?
Hello!

Seriously,
at the end of the day,

do you think,
"Wow, I really harassed

a lot of people today?"

'Cause I think
if I had your job,

I'd probably just kill myself.

Madam, I merely obtained
your phone number

through SMH Incorporated.

I am not affiliated with them.

I'm warning you,
don't call here again.

Friend of yours?

That was Ms. Ruth Talbert

from Taos, New Mexico.

Detective Bell sent
the phone records

from Steven's office
earlier this morning.

I've been calling the numbers
in an effort

to find out what
SMH Incorporated was up to

and perhaps turn up
a suspect or two.

Sounds like you found one.

As a matter of fact,
I found thousands of them.

Everyone who received
a phone call

from SMH Incorporated had motive
to kill Steven Horowitz.

Steven Horowitz
was a debt merchant.

A what now?

Someone somewhere buys,
let's say, a Jet Ski on credit.

Then she loses her job

and she stops paying.

Another person dislikes
the curvature of his buttocks,

so he splurges on a set
of implants.

Another soul eyes an Italian
supercar and thinks,

"Why not me?"

People buy things
they can't afford.

I'm aware of the concept.

Many, many people.

Much of it is frivolous,
some of it is not.

But every such purchase flows
into a massive ocean

of consumer debt.

In this country alone,
it adds up

to $2.4 trillion,

most of it owed
to credit card companies.

Horowitz did not work
for a credit card company.

True, but such corporations
have a policy of giving up

on trying to collect unpaid debt
after 180 days.

Someone's decided it's just
not worth the effort.

So they sell it on.

They sell the debt?

To who?

Why would anyone buy
an unpaid bill?

Because you can get it
at a steep discount.

Let's say you purchase
$10,000 worth of debt

for $1,000.

You're then able to harass
or otherwise

wring $5,000 out
of your unfortunate creditees.

You've then made...

$4,000.

As a way to make a living,

it's more than a bit d�class�,

which is why Steven
kept it hidden from his wife.

But it can also be
very lucrative,

which is why he was doing it
in the first place.

Well, we're gonna need
a phone bank

of our own just to sort
through all these people.

Actually, we're going
to the precinct.

I asked Detective Bell
to sort through the W-2s

from Steven's company.

He's bringing in an employee
named Eduardo Pena.

Well, any one of those people
on the wall

had motive to want Steven gone.

And I wouldn't rule them out,

but the debt collection industry

is notorious for hiring convicts
and recent parolees.

I think it's equally likely
that Steven ran afoul

of one of his shadowy
new associates.

Someone like Eduardo Pena.

The man does have a history
of incarceration

and violent assault.

Copies of the W-2 forms
from SMH Incorporated.

Bell hasn't arrived
with Mr. Pena yet,

so I thought we could look

through them while we wait
and see

if there's anything untoward.

Why did you lie?

What?

That's an Argentinian
steakhouse.

It's an established fact that
you abhor chimichurri sauce.

First of all,
don't read over my shoulder.

And it wasn't a lie.
I'm being polite.

We're having dinner
with Andrew's father tonight.

He probably picked the place.

I'm not gonna say
I won't go there.

Meeting the parents.

That's an important milestone in
your romantic passion play.

No, I'm not meeting his parents.
I'm having dinner

with his father.
It's no big deal.

Then why is it making
you so tense?

I'm not tense about the meal.
I'm tense

about you grilling me about it.

No.

Oh, Marcus is here.

Thank God.

Steven and I worked
our first debt package together

a few months ago.

It was his first time.

I kind of showed
him the ropes.

And you were working
on another project together,

weren't you?

Out in Long Island City?

Steven got tipped
to a big package.

He called it the Mother Lode.

Millions and millions' worth
of debt

that he picked up on the cheap.

How many millions?
I don't know.

Steven never showed me
the whole list.

He'd just give us names
to call every day.

Why were your
offices shut down?

I don't
really know.

Sometimes if Steven
had his hooks into someone

who owed big money
and they lived nearby,

he'd drive out
to see him,

try to collect
in person.

He went out on one
of those errands last week,

came back,
told us all to go home.

What happened?

Who did he see?
No idea.

He just said we were done
collecting on the package...

which was ridiculous, 'cause
we hadn't even called a third

of the names yet.
How do you know that?

Thought you never
saw the whole list.

Just a guess.

He's lying.

Badly.

Who are you calling?

The phone company.
I'm gonna pretend to be Mr. Pena.

You must have been pretty upset,

losing a job
out of nowhere like that.

I was wondering when
you were gonna get to that.

You think
I killed Steven, right?

Makes sense.

He fired me.

I've got a rap sheet.

He died, what,
a couple days ago?

That's right.

Steven let everybody go
last week.

I left for Springfield, Ohio,
the next day.

Got back
last night.

What were you doing there?
Nephew's birthday party.

I'll show you the travel
receipts if you want.

HOLMES He might not have
killed Steven Horowitz,

but he's lying about one thing.

He has the complete
list of debts.

He stole it.

Who's that?

Mr. Pena just installed 14 new
phone lines at his apartment.

He's opening
a boiler room of his own.

Is that true?

If we look around your place,

are we gonna find
Steven's list of debtors?

If we do, that's criminal
possession of stolen property.

That's a felony charge
and a parole violation.

Now, of course,
if your alibi checks out,

you give us the list
voluntarily...

we might be able to work
something out with your P.O.

Presenting
the Mother Lode.

There looks,
at first glance,

to be around $20 million worth
of unpaid bills.

So what are we
looking for in here?

Any large amounts

owed by residents of
Naugatuck, Connecticut.

We have Steven's
EZ Pass records

and cell phone
tower pings

from a rural route
in Naugatuck

shortly before
his disappearance.

He had no normal
business there,

so perhaps he was looking
for one of his debtors.

So you want to find out

what happened
in that face-to-face visit.

Everything was proceeding
quite normally

up to that point,

so we need to learn
what scared Steven

into closing
his business.

You really mustn't
feel badly

about not wanting to
meet Andrew's parents.

The man's always
been something of

a placeholder
for you.

"Placeholder"?
I never said that.

You've also, in all
the time you've dated,

never displayed even a
hint of the intoxication

which accompanies
new love.

The man is back
permanently,

seeking a modest escalation
of the relationship,

and you're forced
to confront

your lack of passion
for the man.

That's a line of
thinking which leads

inevitably
to a breakup.

I don't want
to break up with Andrew.

We're just sort of starting out.

If you don't want
to break up with him,

then why does the idea
of meeting his parents

fill you with a
nameless dread?

I...
Don't answer that right away.

Actually, we'll have
plenty of time to think,

'cause we're driving
to Connecticut.

You found someone.
Owen Downey.

According to this list,
he has accumulated

several hundred thousand
dollars' worth of debt.

Owen Downey has
a felony record,

so if he doesn't
answer the door...

We don't pick the lock.
Uh-uh.

Hello.

Good afternoon.

We're consultants
with the NYPD.

We'd like to see
Owen Downey.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Owen's having his treatment
right now.

We just have a few

questions for him.

It's kind of been
a long drive.

Well, if you're willing to wait,

you can talk to him in a minute,

but right now
Owen isn't saying anything.

I don't think that man's
bludgeoned anyone recently.

What's his diagnosis?

Emphysema.

Owen thinks he picked it
up working construction,

but he never got any
money out of the company.

I'm Owen's aunt.

I work at a
hospital in town.

I come by whenever I can,

get him whatever medicine
I can get my hands on.

During your visits,
have you ever seen this man?

Sure.

Steven.

He's been out here a few times.

Is he okay?

I'm afraid not.

He was murdered.

Oh, my goodness.

I'm so sorry
to hear that.

I know Steven was struggling
to find his way,

but he was a good man.

A good man? He was trying to
collect money from your nephew.

At first.

Then he talked to Owen
for a while.

The second time I saw him here,
he brought groceries.

Then last week,
he told Owen

he didn't owe him
anything anymore.

Really?

It was like a miracle.

Steven said he couldn't live
with what he was doing,

he couldn't bleed money
out of people

who were down
on their luck anymore.

He was forgiving
Owen's debt.

Maybe that's why
he closed the business.

He wasn't just
absolving Owen's debt,

he was doing it
for everyone in that file.

Excuse me.

Steven Horowitz may
not have been killed

because he was a debt collector,

he may have been killed
because he was a debt forgiver.

So Steven Horowitz was what,
some kind of Robin Hood?

Mm, the analogy is not perfect,

but in a manner
of speaking, yes.

He didn't set out to forgive
a massive parcel of debt.

He had every intention of
collecting on the Mother Lode

but somewhere along the way
had an epiphany.

So it's kind of like the Grinch
giving back Christmas.

Well, good on Steven.
What has this

got to do with
his murder?

An entirely pertinent question.

Before he could process
the paperwork

which would
actually have registered

the debt as settled,
Steven was murdered.

You think someone wanted
to stop him from doing that?

I think Steven had very little
in the way of savings.

Someone would
have alerted him

to the existence
of the Mother Lode.

It was a package which,
if worked properly,

could set him up for life.

But it would cost
millions of dollars to purchase.

So he had investors?
And who purchases shares

in large packets of unpaid debt?

A rogues' gallery.

Those who spend
their lives

in the twilight between
the legal and the criminal.

I give you...

the principal investors
in SMH Incorporated.

Is that Sam Gianini?

The reputed head of what is left
of the city's crime family

invested through
a shell corporation

named after his niece.

Grace Yee,

doyenne of Brooklyn's
offtrack betting economy;

Walker Tolan,
curator of sex clubs

which connect money
to Wall Street

with pliable
young men and women...

I would go on,
but you get the picture...

there's no one here
you would invite to high tea.

No one you'd want to stiff
on their seed money, either.

Precisely.
Steven Horowitz's

spiritual awakening
had the unhappy side effect

of enraging a cross-section
of blackguards and highwaymen.

It's our job to figure out
which one of them killed him.

Well, with that group, would've
been a race to the finish line.

So, obviously I did not become

a sober companion
to be a detective.

I didn't even know
I wanted to be a detective

until I actually
started doing it. I mean,

I resisted it for a long time,
but I'm really glad

I made the switch.

So...

surgeon...

sober companion...

detective.
I-I know it sounds meandering when

I describe it, but I promise you
it all felt very organic while

it was actually happening.
That's a rather perfect description

of most people's lives.

I find your story inspiring,
actually.

Wow. I think my mother would
say "flighty," but... thanks.

Well, of course she would.

We worry about our children.

That never goes away.
But to me,

it sounds like
you found your passion.

You were open to it when it presented itself;
you didn't settle.

It's exactly the sense of
adventure Andrew's mother and I

tried to foster
in our own children.

You guys enrolled me in a
programming class in third grade.

And look
at you now.

I'm sorry it's taken so long
for us to get together.

You're remarkable.

� �

Watson, what are
you doing here?

Well, I just came here
to punch you.

What was that for?

I hate it when you're right.

Is this about your dinner?

It was totally
a Meet the Parents thing.

There really is no version
of meeting someone's parents

that doesn't involve
actually meeting their parents.

You know what I mean.
And Andrew's father

was so... amazing...
he was warm and welcoming.

He was obviously so thrilled
that I was dating his son.

I mean, it went about as well as you
could possibly imagine. And yet...

I didn't want any of it.

I just didn't
feel comfortable.

I mean, Andrew is smart,
he's kind,

he doesn't dress like
a high school student

who just got expelled.
What is wrong with me?

I'm not feeling anything
I'm supposed to be feeling.

I'm an expert in many things,
but love is not one of them.

I do know, however,
it cannot be reduced

to a checklist of traits.

You know, you might
have to accept

the fact that whatever your
relationship with Andrew means,

you just don't want it.

Then what do I want?

I don't know.

While you're sorting that out,
you might inadvertently

be treating a kind man...
rather shabbily.

Well, I-I know
what has to happen.

What are you up to, anyway?

Why-why are you
making Clyde paint?

I'm not forcing him
to do anything.

He enjoys it.

It's quite soothing to watch...

while I wait to be humiliated.

When we parted company, we were
assuming that Steven Horowitz

was murdered
by one of his investors.

Now, cursory investigation
has revealed that to be false.

Steven, it turns out,
worked enough of the Mother Lode

to pay off his investors

before he had his
change of heart.

So if it wasn't one of them...

We are quite without suspect.

In an effort to dredge one up,

I've been thinking
about the nature of debt.

It is, first
and foremost,

leverage that one person
holds over another.

Okay.
Given that,

I've been wondering
if perhaps our killer had reason

to want someone
in that portfolio...

or someones... to stay in debt.

Before he had his
change of heart,

Steven drove all the way
out to Connecticut

to hound one man...
Owen Downey.

Now, there are other people
listed on the Mother Lode

who owed more money
and lived nearby.

Steven focused on Owen.

Why?

Upon revisiting Owen,

I discovered
something quite interesting

about his community...
all of the properties

within a five-mile radius
of... Owen's house

were purchased
over the last two years

by the same property developer:
Jay Stern Investments.

For what?
Don't know.

Hasn't been made public yet.

I've asked our friends
at Everyone

to have a look behind Stern
Investments' firewalls

and perhaps shed some light
on the matter.

They're presently deciding
what price they wish to extract.

Which is why you're
waiting to be humiliated.

I believe that
might be them now.

Ha!

Brilliant.

Yes. They are no doubt
congratulating themselves

on having erected their
most fiendish obstacle yet.

Well, yeah, they want
a Super Bowl ring.

The proverbial
piece of cake.

I'll simply call Phillip and the
matter will be well in hand.

Phillip? Phil Simms?
I mean, I know you two

have worked together or something,
but do you really think

he's just gonna give you one
of his Super Bowl rings?

You've got no idea
what the man owes me.

Morning.

Repast. Couture.

We're going to see the board of
directors at Stern Investments.

I didn't know
I had any clothes left here.

You didn't.
I purchased those.

We frequently work late nights,
so I imagined they'd be of use.

Hope they're
to your liking.

Oh. It's great, actually.
Thanks.

Uh, why are we going
to Stern Investments?

Phillip squared
his account with me,

and Everyone got their ring.

They spent quite a bit
of time on Stern's servers.

I learned some interesting
details about the sex lives

of some of the board members.
I also determined

they're planning to build
a ski resort in Connecticut.

Naugatuck,
to be exact.

Which is why they're buying up the land.
At the moment,

the details of the project are
known only to the six members

of Stern's board and their CEO.

They'd like to unveil the plans
next week.

Only there's a problem:
Owen Downey's house sits right

in the middle of their proposed

mountain lodge.
He's a holdout.

Hmm.

Mr. Downey
is understandably unwilling

to uproot his life
in his current condition.

Stern thinks they'll be able
to force a sale,

since Owen will not be able
to repay his medical debts

unless he sells
his last remaining asset,

his home.
But if Steven forgave Owen's debt...

There'd be no need to sell.

The entire resort
would be imperiled.

Only six people knew about this?

Seven, including the CEO.

I do like a nice tidy pool
of suspects.

We've got to be able to line up

everybody in town, I mean,
shoulder to shoulder,

or we're gonna look

awfully weak in this next meeting.
Morning, ladies and gentlemen.

What the hell is going on?
I'm sorry, sir.

I couldn't stop them.
Apologies for the interruption,

but cold logic dictates
that one of you

is likely a killer.
My colleague and I are in

an on-again, off-again
relationship with the NYPD.

We thought we'd take a look
at you all in one place

and see if anyone pops out.
This is insane.

What are you even
talking about?

Look, you can't barge in here.
Get out.

Call our attorneys.

Sherlock.

My apologies.

On second thoughts,
it's distinctly possible

there is no killer
in this room.

One of you, however,
does like to be spanked.

Carry on!

What happened in there?
I thought you were sure

one of them did it.

Of the seven people
in that room,

three of them are women
of small stature.

One was a geriatric,
and one was trying to hide

the fact that he's nearly blind
from the rest of his colleagues.

And one, whose e-mails
I happen to have read,

was spending his evening
in the company of his dominatrix

at the time
that Steven Horowitz was killed.

The CEO was the only one
who could have overpowered

and bludgeoned a grown man,
and he had the remnants

of a peeling sunburn
at the edges of his hairline.

We'll confirm it,
but I think he was on holiday

at the time of the murder.
Any one of them could have hired a killer.

Unlikely.

Professional killers tend
to execute people

in professional fashion.
They don't blunder about

with fire extinguishers.

So in other words,
we're nowhere.

Quite the contrary.

I have a very good idea
who killed Steven Horowitz.

Sorry, who are you here to meet with?
Oh, no,

we're not here to meet
anyone. We just came to look

at one of your partners,
uh, Coleman Brown.

Um, th-these are on, uh,
public display, are they not?

I guess.
Great. Thanks.

When we were expelled
from Stern Investments,

their CEO gave me the card
of their attorney.

Did you know that Stern
Investments is represented by...

Dorchester-Reid?

So someone from Steven's

old law firm
represents the people

who want to build a ski resort
on Owen Downey's property.

An attorney who, if worth
his salt as a negotiator,

stands to earn
a massive commission

should the resort
become a reality.

Coleman Brown.

I did a little research
on the way over here.

Coleman and Steven
were both members

of the Braebury Country Club.

Apparently they routinely
played golf together.

I suspect it was Coleman Brown
who made Steven aware

of the Mother Lode
in the first place.

So this guy points Steven
at Owen.

But if Steven forgave
Owen's debt

instead of breathing down his
neck until he sold his house...

Coleman Brown
would lose millions.

Excuse me.

Mr. Brown.

It's a very good likeness, yes.

A bit flattering
in the cheekbones

but it's good.
Our receptionist said

there were two people here
to look at a painting of me.

Can I help you with something?

Oh, no. Not at the moment.

Thank you, though.

So now what?

Now we build a case
against Mr. Brown.

Did you really have to
bring that back here?

I hardly think
the painting will be missed.

Once we prove that Coleman Brown
is a cold-blooded murderer,

they'll probably take it down
anyway.

Besides, there's something
about his smug visage

I find highly motivating.

If you're so motivated, how come
we haven't connected him

to the murder yet?
I suspect

it has to do with a paucity
of physical evidence.

I don't care if you're motivated

by him or not.
I feel like he's staring at me.

I'm taking it down.

In this painting,
Mr. Brown is wearing

a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

If you Google him,

he's wearing the same pair
in all of his pictures.

When we met him today...

He was wearing rimless frames.

Could be he has more
than one pair of glasses.

Could be.

Or maybe there's some
physical evidence after all.

Mr. Brown.
Thanks for coming down.

Whatever.
Let's make this fast.

We just have a few questions.
Right this way.

Oh, seriously?

These two?
They stole

a portrait worth
thousands of dollars

from my office
yesterday.

Uh, well, we'll, uh,

sort that out
in a bit.

First, uh,
have a seat.

We wanted to talk
to you about...

Steven Horowitz.

Guy who used to
work at my firm?

We know
that you alerted Steven

to a package of debt
which contained

Owen Downey's medical bills.

We also know that you stood
to earn millions of dollars

if Stern Investments
could compel Mr. Downey

to sell his home.

Unfortunately,

your debt collector had
a sentimental streak.

And when Steven told you he
planned to forgive Owen's debt

along with everyone else's,
you couldn't abide that,

could you? You
went to his office

and you confronted him.

And then you killed him.

That's ridiculous. I've never
even set foot in his office.

Are you sure about that? Yes, I'm sure.
I'm getting an attorney.

That's a good idea.
'Cause you're gonna need one.

You recently bought a new pair
of glasses, didn't you?

So?

So you needed to buy a new pair
of glasses because you shattered

your old ones
when you attacked Mr. Horowitz.

We picked through the
evidence again last night.

Most of what we found
was shattered glass

from the fire extinguisher box.
But some of it

was polycarbonate.

Like you'd find
from a pair of glasses.

When we put those pieces
together,

a fingerprint very courteously
assembled itself

on the partially
reconstituted lens.

Would you like to guess
whose it was?

What were you
saying before

about never having set foot
in his office?

I'm not saying anything else
without my attorney present.

You have exactly
one bargaining chip left.

The location
of Steven Horowitz's body.

We'll go ahead
and call your attorney

right after we get done

reading you
your rights.

What is that?

That, madam, is your property.

You're Steven Horowitz's
next of kin, so...

you rightfully inherit ownership
of the debt he was collecting

in order to maintain
the family lifestyle.

Steven could have told me
he was fired.

My God.

What happened to us?

I couldn't say.

I can tell you that
that package, worked properly,

will make you
very, very wealthy.

Steven decided he had
other ideas for it.

Whether or not you decide
to honor those ideas is...

entirely up to you.

Skim milk latte

for Joan and whole
milk latte for Andrew.

Thank you.

Oh. Excuse me.

Here we go.

Oh. Thanks.

Skim milk.

I think you gave me the wrong one.
Oh.

Sorry.

So, what's
going on?

Why'd you want to meet?

Um...

Andrew,
you're such a great guy,

and I'm lucky to know you.
I just...

I'm not what you're looking for
right now?

Yeah, I-I don't know
what I'm looking for.

That's the problem.
Yeah.

Um...
I mean, if...

Andrew, are you okay?

Oh, my God,
what's wrong?

Oh, my God.
Somebody call an ambulance!

Okay. Okay. Okay.

Andrew. Andrew.

Oh, God.

No. Andrew?

Okay.

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