You're late!
No, I'm not.
Most civilized people eat breakfast at 7:00 a. m.
I got you wheat toast and a salad.
It's doctor's orders until you get your cholesterol down.
And Vanity Fair called again; they want to know where the photos are for the...
These are really...
"Really" what?
Boring?
Stupid?
What's wrong?
There's a man in this photo and... he's dead.
NCIS Season 4 Episode 22 In the dark
I didn't know that fixing a leak involved tearing out half the wall.
I found it.
Nice work.
Ready for payment?
Not done.
What do you mean you're not done?
The sleeve is only temporary; pipes are old.
The leak's going to spread.
You've got to swap out all these old iron pipes with copper.
All of them.
You know a good plumber?
I know a great plumber.
You ready for that jump payment?
Hang on. Yeah, Gibbs.
Gibbs, a call came in about a dead sailor.
Have them meet me there.
Go.
I'll be here when you get back.
A blind photographer?
Well, apparently he's quite successful.
Why not? Beethoven was deaf.
After my assistant noticed the body, I blew up the photo.
She saw the uniform, called you.
I'll need a copy of your negative, Mr. Scott.
Sorry we're late, boss.
Hit every red light and we had to stop and get gas.
And some... bratwurst?
Everybody gets hungry.
Where's the body?
Apparently there's been some sort of miscommunication.
What? We carried all our equipment up here for nothing.
Yeah "we".
Do you remember where you were when you took that photo?
I was at the corner of 18th and Wescott following the fruit.
Since Mr. Scott lost his eyesight in an automobile accident ten years ago, he's had to rely on his other senses for his work.
Instead of following the light, he'll go out and follow a sound or in this case, a scent as inspiration.
Last night, it was some kind of... fruit smell.
Slightly rotted.
Like an orange, maybe.
Bad cologne, I followed it for over an hour.
'Til I hit that underpass... and then all I could smell was vomit.
What's the inspiration behind these?
Oh... I heard a girl crying, I followed the tears.
I don't see a girl.
Neither did I.
It's funny how a hundred people probably walked by this guy and it took a blind man to find him.
"It's funny"?
Well, funny in a kind of sad, pathetic way.
What if I was blind?
That technique may work for the likes of Jackson Scott, Tony, but a true investigator keeps his eyes open at all times.
A lesson this unfortunate would have done well to heed.
Does he have a name?
No wallet, no I.D.
Found this, Duck.
Sharp-force trauma to the abdomen, making that the probable m*rder w*apon.
If this was a m*rder, of course.
Yeah, I know, I know. It always is, isn't it?
I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost my eyesight.
You'd adapt.
What if I didn't?
You'd fall into a deep depression and eventually you would die.
Remind me not to come to you for a pep talking anytime soon.
What?
Fresh vomit.
Whoever it belongs to must have seen something.
Time of death roughly 15 hours ago.
Those markings on his neck?
Yeah, well abrasions such as those usually result from the forcible removal of jewelry.
Perhaps a crucifix or in his case, his dog tags.
Pre-mortem?
Well, the inflammation suggests he was still alive.
Combine that with the missing wallet...
Looks like a mugging.
I'll just swab under the fingernails.
He is right, actually.
Snatched necklace, missing wallet, signs of struggle, textbook mugging.
Or it was made to look like one.
Although photography didn't come came into its own as an art form until the 20th century, it was during the Civil w*r that its more infamous side blossomed.
Oh, I know this...
Mathew Brady, the famous b*ttlefield photographer.
I said infamous, Mr. Palmer.
It wasn't pictures of battlefields the soldiers wanted, but subjects of a bluer nature.
I thought color film wasn't invented until...
Oh, you mean...
As with all new media, carnal activity came to the forefront, thus proving the old adage...
Sex sells.
Yes, it does.
Although I assume that's not what you came down here to discuss.
That's a good guess.
Yeah, well, how about another one?
You came down here hoping that I had found some subtle incongruity in my autopsy that would shed some light on this dastardly mystery.
Always seems to be the case, Duck.
Yes, well, all I've done so far is to confirm my initial impression as to the cause of death.
He was stabbed.
Right in the stomach.
Now, even with medical intervention, this lad was not long for this world.
You mean Petty Officer Peter Lynn.
Worked in the Supply Corps at the Defense Logistics Agency, which is also know as DLA, if you're ever in the K-N-O-W.
They're the guys who supply the m*llitary, you know, with pretty much everything.
You already knew this.
He was a liaison to the Naval Space Command, which is the spy satellite guys.
You remember the time we had the naked girl on the beach... you already know about all this.
Abby got a hit off the prints.
That's not all Abby got.
She was able to match mitochondrial fragments in the vomit to the cellular material scraped from the victim's fingernails.
They both came from the assailant.
The old snatch and vomit?
Emesis, as it is known, is not uncommon in first-time offenders.
They learn the hard way that they don't have the stomach for a life of crime.
Take our mugger's last supper: a cheese blintz, some red wine... no doubt a cheap bordeaux... and almost a pound of veal.
Mugging business must be good, Duck.
I'll have Ziva start running down the local restaurants.
Uh, I got an address on Petty Officer Lynn, as well.
So, where were we?
p*rn.
Yes, I believe it was photography, Mr. Palmer.
Kindly try to keep your mind out of the gutter.
What is it?
Perhaps I have found a subtle incongruity after all.
Thank you.
You take over here.
I need to consult with Ms. Sciuto.
Hello?
Where did that come from?
I haven't the foggiest idea.
Really? How incongruous.
Please dispose of this, Mr. Palmer.
Hi. Yeah, well, I found the bra.
It was a close call, but, uh...
Oh, no, no. No panties, we just...
What do you mean a matching set?
Petty Officer Lynn live alone? We'll find out soon enough.
Hmm, the Eagle Nebula.
Trash.
What are you talking about "trash"?
This is known as the Pillars of Creation, Tony.
Talking about this.
He must really not like taking the trash out.
Maybe it's not trash.
Yeah, what do you got, Duck?
An interesting development, Jethro.
When I opened Petty Officer Lynn's stomach, I discovered that he, too, before his mugging had eaten a cheese blintz.
Popular dish.
Coincidence? No.
I found traces of the same wine in both stomachs.
The D-glucose levels in the tannin, it's like a fingerprint.
They shared a meal, Jethro, which means...
It wasn't a random mugging.
Never thought I'd be doing this again so soon.
When was the last time?
After my Psych Evaluation Profile. I wanted to read the rough drafts.
What'd they say?
I have no idea.
The papers I reconstructed... they weren't mine.
They're yours.
Mine?
You read my psych profile? What'd it say?
Ah, it's better you don't know, McGee.
Got your message. What do you got, Abs?
Trash, and lots of it. Sadly, nothing that can identify the owner.
Yet.
No thanks.
I quit.
Quit? You?
I decided it was time to cut down on the caffeine.
I wish I could tell I've already reconstructed these documents.
I've got it run on an automated program, but it's still going to take some time.
You called me down here to tell me you got nothing?
Me, nothing.
But Mister Mildly Neurotic Introvert with a highly sensitive ego... he has something.
Yeah. Um, I was going through Petty Officer Lynn's computer, looking for an address book, and I found this.
It's called Celestia.
It's an open-source astronomy program popular with space enthusiasts, people in the field.
I'm not one of them, McGee.
Sorry. My point is, it's supposed to be an accurate simulation, but I found a star system that doesn't belong.
Of course you did.
Program's open source.
That means you can adapt it to pretty much anything... education, games.
You can store grocery lists, or in this case, use it for a diary.
What better place to hide all your personal secrets than in a galaxy far far away?
What's he hiding?
Well, for the most part, not a whole lot.
It's about the most boring diary I've ever read.
An obsession with Kelly Clarkson. Wondering why he can't find a girlfriend.
He didn't make the connection between those two things?
Two weeks ago, though, it got interesting.
Lynn claims that he was contacted by someone at the Naval Inspector General's office in Norfolk.
Asked to go on a mission.
He say who?
Nope.
Didn't say what kind, either. That was the last entry.
You were kidding about the delicate ego thing, right?
A question that answers itself.
My name is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.
This is my partner, Ziva David.
Commander Doug Jakobsen.
So, what can the Inspector General's Office do for our investigative cousins?
Are you familiar with a Petty Officer by the name of Peter Lynn?
Excuse me.
Yes, I'm familiar with the name.
Was he helping with an investigation out of this office?
Petty Officer Lynn...
...isn't helping with an investigation.
He's the subject of it.
There's nothing on his record.
There wouldn't be.
The investigation is classified.
But you guys saved me a call.
I was just about to bring NCIS in on this.
We believe P.O. Lynn is abusing his position as a DLA Storekeeper.
Providing info on m*llitary purchases to competing vendors.
Not anymore.
Petty Officer Lynn's dead.
How?
Stabbed to death.
Someone tried to make it look like a mugging.
Suspects?
An accomplice, perhaps.
We thought he was working alone.
Maybe his buyers are covering their tracks.
Good luck sniffing them out.
Now that there's been a m*rder, NCIS gets sole jurisdiction, but if there's anything I can do, let me know.
Something wrong?
No... other than a dead petty officer.
He betrayed his country.
Far as I'm concerned, he got what was coming to him.
Oh, come on already!
Please stay on the line.
Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received.
I got your message. Yeah.
Why didn't you answer your phone?
I've been on hold with the Department of Development.
What about your cell?
On hold with the Secretary of the Commonwealth's office.
And... they disconnected me again.
Jeanne, what's going on?
I'm being evicted. My building is going condo.
Condo?
Is there something funny about that?
No, I just... I got your message, and so I...
Never mind.
What can I do?
You're doing it.
Thank you for coming.
It's no problem, because I said I had a dentist's appointment. Again.
I've got 30 days to find a new place, but no time to go apartment hunting.
One of my colleagues offered me their couch if I can't find anything.
No. I've seen Grey's Anatomy. That's out.
My mother offered me a bed.
So, I either fight it, or...
We get a place together.
Tony.
Yeah.
Department of Housing and Development.
How may we direct your call?
Nowhere.
I'm moving in with my boyfriend.
The fifth photo was a... Streetlight.
Oh, yeah, right, right, right.
Halogen one.
Let me see, uh...
Oh, yeah, yeah, there was a, couple having a fight nearby.
A hot dog vendor.
And something that smelled like mothballs.
I didn't get too close.
The next one is...
I'm not used to working with anyone.
Bad news from the dentist?
Something like that.
Okay, um, this is number six?
That's where Mr. Scott first picked up the fruit smell.
You with him?
No. I was in the office when he left.
I work alone, and I like it that way.
Bryn writes our press releases, so I had to go over the photos with her this morning.
Like I said, it was an unusual scent, so I followed it.
Why aren't we using the plasma?
He said he didn't like looking at his pictures on a computer.
He's blind.
Okay, this is seven.
Looks like a... it could be a sewer.
And I'm the blind one.
You got the pictures out of order, honey.
Number seven's a sky sh*t... number 22 is the low-angle.
Good memory.
Yeah, well, I don't have much choice.
Either that, or I break my nose walking into walls.
Number 22 is where Mr. Scott lost the fruit smell.
I recognize that graffiti.
It's on the restaurant where I tracked Petty Officer Lynn to his last supper.
You found the restaurant?
Well, there's not too many places that serve cheese blintzes.
But no one remembers seeing the petty officer.
If he was the source of the smell he never came out of there.
And if he wasn't, then he was probably with the guy who was.
They could have used the back exit.
Which would make sense if they were having a clandestine meeting and were worried about being followed.
Check, uh... number 18.
There was a car idling outside the restaurant.
Sorry.
I'll get those.
Time to go digital.
How long was he there?
Well, he was still there when I left.
Can you get the license?
Accessing the Virginia DMV.
We only have a partial plate, but we can narrow it down by making model.
Really?
Sarcasm is not sexy, Ziva.
Narrowing the list down to make and model.
Got it. License plate T-A five, four, zero, two, one.
Registered to a David Wong, 41, civilian.
Record?
Guy's squeaky clean... no criminal record, no outstanding parking tickets.
Works in Inventory Management at the Defense Logistics Agency.
Who else works there, he thought sexily?
I know a petty officer who used to.
And just as squeaky.
Call McGee and have him bring David Wong in here.
I was just about to call you, Tony.
I was going to say great minds think alike, but, well, you know.
Got a lead.
Yeah, we do, too. We found a car outside the restaurant Petty Officer Lynn ate at. A Honda licence plate...
T- A, five, four, zero, two, one?
Good guess.
Not a guess.
I'm standing right in front of it.
I spoke to Petty Officer Lynn's superiors.
They had a lot of nice things to say about him.
It's the guy in the office across the hall they were worried about.
David Wong.
That's right.
Why were they worried?
He left for lunch four hours ago, never came back.
A blind photographer.
That is a new one.
Is he a suspect?
Not yet.
Uh... got to come straight in.
So, he takes a picture of a dead body, who just happens to be under investigation for the Inspector General's office?
Thought you didn't like coincidences.
Well, that's why I said not yet.
You got any suspects?
A co-worker of Petty Officer Lynn's went MIA today.
Left in a hurry I'd offer to help you with your manhunt, but I filed for retirement today.
Plus, I got my own manhunt to worry about.
This is the part where you say something.
I'm not sure which part to start with.
You could start with how you feel.
How do you feel?
Good.
I'm ready for something permanent. And the Army's not going to, you know, give that to me but...
That's a nice try, but, this is the part where you say something, remember?
I guess I'm wondering what you mean by "permanent. "
I mean that... I like you.
And...
I think you like me, too.
You're going to have to confirm or deny that.
I like you.
Good.
Well, as you know, when two people like each other, they usually like to spend time with each other.
And I consider my time valuable, thus I consider time spent with you an investment.
That makes me like... what?
A CD?
At our age, more like an IRA.
And I've, I've already, uh, invested a lot in it.
You never know how things are going to turn out, and I'm not asking for promises. I just need to know if you're in this for the long haul.
I want to start building something, and I want to build it with you.
Holly, I do like you.
I'm just...
What? Wounded?
Afraid to love?
I'm in the middle of a case, and I'm not real focused right now.
Okay, well, I didn't expect to get an answer tonight, but I did have to ask the question.
I'm leaving for Fort Bragg.
I'm helping choose my replacement tomorrow.
You know, and hopefully when I get back you may have an answer for me.
I'd hate to have to find a new plumber.
No hits on the BOLO yet.
Co-workers said he'd been acting strange all week.
If he planned his run, it'll make him that much harder to find.
Did you track his cell calls yet?
Agent Lee is getting the warrant now. She's at the U.S. Attorney's office.
And Abby's processing evidence from his office.
She nearly bit my head off when I poked it in to her lab to check on her.
Quit drinking caffeine.
Abby?
Abby Sciuto?
Yes, boss?
Wong, David Wong.
We have two competing theories on Mr. Wong.
Theory one...
It is possible that David Wong and Petty Officer Lynn were working together.
And then they had a fall out and Wong ended their relationship.
Theory two.
The Commander from the I.G. had it wrong about Petty Officer Lynn.
Wong was selling the info, Lynn found out, Wong k*lled him for it.
We figure out a motive, we'll figure out where he's going.
First, we need that warrant.
I've got it right here.
Uh, Agent Lee faxed this over. I thought I'd run it up to you.
McGee.
Yeah? On it, boss.
All right, pulling up his records.
You need something else?
Uh... no.
Palmer's been acting like that all morning.
Earlier, I caught him at the gym hiding in the towel bins.
Bank records are coming up.
No unusual activity.
You know what? I got to make a pit stop.
I can't think of anything charming or pithy to say.
Well... I have fantastic news.
I think I found us a place.
That's great.
It's a three bedroom apartment, not far from the university or the hospital and has really cute floral wallpaper.
That, that, that's great.
Great as in... "great" or...
"great" as in you're having second thoughts?
I'm not having second thoughts.
Is there a third option?
Don't do this to me, Tony.
Jeanne...
You didn't have to say anything yesterday. You could have just given me a hug and told me everything would be okay. That would have been more than enough.
But don't tell me you want to live with me, then take it back.
I am not taking it back.
When I suggested that we live together, I was speaking from... you know... what's that, the thing in you rib cage?
Heart.
Heart. Yeah.
I was... and I am.
And I meant it.
I'm just...
A commitmentphobe afraid to love.
Right in the middle there.
And I'm... I'm just not very focused right now.
And I'm not a big fan of floral.
I'll be honest with you.
Okay, then...
I'll keep looking, if you're sure that's all that it is?
Yeah. I'm sure.
Then what are you doing on the phone? Get back to work.
Yes, ma'am.
Hi.
Hey.
Abby called; she found something.
Wanted us to come down.
If you're done, that is.
I'm sorry, boss, I... I'm...
I know.
DiNozzo, trust me.
I know.
How long were you guys there?
Long enough.
So you are getting a new roommate?
We're discussing it.
What is there to discuss?
It's complicated.
Complicated, complicated, complicated.
You know, in America, I have noticed they use that word as a code for... "If I explain it, you would not agree,
"therefore I will use he word complicated and hopefully, you will stop asking ".
Yeah, that's pretty much it in a nutshell. I'm gonna go see what Abby wants.
Tony...
Ziva.
If you're going to give me advice on dating, I'm going to need to get something out of my system first, okay?
Stop laughing or I will hurt you.
I know what you're doing. You're hiding behind all these jokes.
And I know what you're hiding from.
Really? What's that?
Everyone who is afraid to love hides from getting hurt.
It's not just me that I'm worrying about hurting, Ziva.
That's because you're a good person.
It's a low-frequency, acoustic RF buffer transmitter.
English, Abs.
It's a bug.
I found it embedded underneath the "Caps Lock" key of David Wong's keyboard.
I thought the DLA ran routine security sweeps.
How did they miss it?
The same way I almost did.
Okay.
To avoid detection from internal sensors, the bug records for five hours...
...and then blast sends the data in under five seconds.
A little bug can do all that?
Yeah.
It can if it only records a few, tiny sub-audible frequencies.
"Sub-audible" meaning?
Humans can't hear it.
So, what?
Lassie's bugging this guy?
I think, he bugged himself.
Don't you like the way I do that? Like, right when you think you know where I'm going, it's like... shazam... a hard turn.
He bugged himself?
Abs!
Sorry, Gibbs.
I'm just a little bit distracted.
Better. Sub-audible bug!
Whoever planted it wasn't eavesdropping on conversations.
They were listening for keyboard taps.
Every key makes a similar but unique sound.
With the right software, you can record the keystrokes... then using a decoding algorithm, you can figure out what was typed.
The virtual Rosetta Stone.
A bug like this would bypass all security protocols.
No password would be safe.
David Wong had access to some pretty sensitive info.
Why would he need to bug himself?
He already knew his passwords.
No, he didn't.
The DLA uses RSA Secure ID.
It's a hardware token that regenerates authentication every minute.
If Wong had a partner, the best way to give him access would be to...
Bug himself.
Does this record more than passwords?
It records everything that's typed.
Okay, let's see it.
But we can't.
'Cause it broadcasts and it then dumps.
You could try the buffer.
Sorry. You guys say that every once in awhile, so I thought...
He's right.
He is?
I am?
If we treat the buffer like a normal hard drive, even if it erased itself, we should be able to get something off of it.
Accessing the RAM buffer.
We've got something.
Wong was looking for directions to an abandoned DLA warehouse.
Perhaps a rendezvous with his buyers?
Or he was worried we'd trace the m*rder of Petty Officer Lynn to him and he decided to run.
Address.
Got it.
That's good work, Abs.
Nice place.
Don't think Wong chose this location for scenery.
McGee, DiNozzo.
If Wong was running, he didn't get very far.
Federal agents!
Wrong. He got about as far as he could get.
The telltale inverted "V", combined with the hemorrhaging of the lips and eyelids, fractured cervical vertebrae...
No evidence of any dr*gs in his system, and only his DNA on the rope.
Let me guess... he hung himself.
It certainly would pear that way.
He have any help?
He may have.
A m*rder could easily cover up a ligature strangulation with a post-mortem hanging.
I understand there was some kind of note from Mr. Wong.
Took the credit for k*lling Petty Officer Lynn.
Wong said he and Lynn were partners on a con, embezzling from the DLA, until Lynn tried to blackmail Wong out of his share.
So Wong k*lled him.
Tried to make it look like a mugging.
Then he panicked when he learned NCIS figured out it wasn't.
"I'm sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen.
"May God have mercy.
David B. Wong".
Abby verified the handwriting.
You know, the vomit near the body contained copious amounts of cheese blintz.
David Wong was lactose intolerant.
If he had consumed that much cheese, that would explain his throwing up.
Puts Wong at the underpass.
Which corroborates his letter.
Yet you doubt it?
Mugging wasn't a mugging.
So the su1c1de may not be a su1c1de.
In the mugging, certain key facts did not add up.
But here, I'm afraid, there are no such discrepancies.
Well, I've got a discrepancy. Evidence bag says David G. Wong.
Yes. His middle name was George.
Then why'd he sign his name with a "B"?
Perhaps he was a sending us a message.
Letter "B" is not much of a message.
I find it very doubtful that he would make a mistake.
Besides, if he wrote a note under duress, the message would have to be something the k*ller would not notice.
Could be part of the k*ller's initials.
Is that at you'd write, DiNozzo?
No.
Two letters would be circumstantial, one letter is just useless.
Perhaps there's another place where David Wong used the false initial.
I already checked. DMV, bank records.
Only place that Wong used the letter "B" is on the su1c1de note.
Maybe it wasn't one letter then. McGee, run it.
Whoa, stop it right there. There.
What?
The Bs are different.
Thirteen.
It's not a letter. it's a number.
Actually, I think it's both.
Boss, I think this is an "I" and a three together.
After Wong's su1c1de note, I checked his office's records.
They code their invoices with an "I" followed by a number corresponding to department.
I've gotten as far as I-5, but I didn't find anything to corroborate the claim of embezzment.
Look again.
That's good advice, Gibbs. That's exactly what I did.
You're going to love what I found.
The first thing I did when I got the photos...
Was run facial-recognition software on every face you could find.
Which led nowhere.
Thank you both for that reminder of my failure.
Haven't failed me yet, Abs.
I thought I had squeezed all the data I could out of the photos, until Jackson Scott walked in and humbled me.
The man uses echolocation to find obstacles in his way.
No Shamu jokes. Echolocation is reflected sound, which made me think of reflected images. Which made me find... this.
I know, it's a blur, but that's because the photons of light in the image, they're spread out in time.
But you can de-spread them.
Well, the technical term is "deconvolution, " but yeah.
So I calculated the shutter speed, merging the photons into a coherent image.
The final results are still processing.
But this is good enough for an ID. Look familiar?
Relax. There's nothing to be nervous about.
Then why am I in an interrogation room?
That's a good point.
Maybe you should be nervous.
I haven't done anything wrong.
Actually, you did.
But we're going to give you another chance to correct it.
So, tell us again, where were you the night your boss took this picture?
I told you already.
I was in Mr. Scott's office until 6:00. And then I went straight home.
She was at your loft when you left?
Told you that already, too.
I'm blind, but you guys are deaf.
You believe her?
Well, why would I think she's lying?
Because she is.
So if you went straight home, then what are you doing in this photo your boss took that night?
It's interesting you didn't notice she was there.
Yet you noticed everything else.
I see.
She's not the only one being interrogated.
Care to change your testimony?
I took the long way home.
I must have walked by where Mr Scott was sh**ting.
If I did, I didn't realize he was there.
So you two were within 20 feet of each other...
And neither of you knew the other was there.
It's possible Bryn wouldn't have noticed me.
I work hard to keep myself below people's radar.
But I would have certainly noticed her.
Why didn't you?
I don't know.
We showed your photo to the staff at the restaurant where Petty Officer Lynn was having his last supper.
And one of the waiters identified you at the lobby.
You being at the same restaurant as Petty Officer Lynn a coincidence, too?
Because I don't think the jury will see it that way.
What they will see is the person he had dinner with then lured him to the underpass, and stabbed him to death.
No.
It's not what happened.
Then tell me what did!
I was following Mr. Scott.
But I lost him for a few minutes.
I just ducked into the restaurant for a second when he came around the corner and surprised me.
Jackson's harder to follow than you'd think.
I have to wear special shoes and perfume when I follow him.
Fruity perfume by any chance?
Lavender.
Why were you following him?
I don't understand this.
Why were you following him?
I was the one who called NCIS...
Why were you following him?!
You're in love with him.
If you think his photos are brilliant, you should see him work.
He can't see, but he still sees more than most people.
I lied to you, because if Jackson knew I was following him...
I didn't see your petty officer.
And if he was there when I was, I wouldn't have noticed.
For a man who can see more than most people, I... managed to miss the thing that counts the most.
Better late than never, I suppose.
You going to let her go now?
Now, no.
After we corroborate, yeah.
Maybe Wong's su1c1de note was legit after all.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I was just looking for some pipettes, which are clearly not here.
Bye.
What?
The fruit smell from that night.
Oh. Oh, my gosh.
I forgot to take my insulin.
I was so busy looking for the pipettes that I forgot.
Insulin?
Yeah, I have mild diabetes.
When my blood sugar spikes, my breath gets a mild fruity smell.
Is it really that bad?
Why is everyone looking at me like I'm in some kind of trouble?
Well, I got your message.
What's this about a breach of our security?
We believe someone's been running a bogus investigation out of your office.
The Lynn case?
Our suspect told Petty Officer Lynn a co-worker was under investigation for embezzling.
A lie.
And asked Lynn to plant a bug in the co-worker's office.
That co-worker was David Wong.
The lie was to get Wong's password to the DLA accounting database.
The suspect was the one who was embezzling.
You can check DLA ledger I-three. It's all there.
The funny part is Wong grew suspicious and contacted you, which is ironic, since you were the one running the bogus investigation out of this office in the first place.
We traced the log-ons to DLA's servers back to your computer.
Also, a waiter places you at the restaurant with Lynn.
And we have come to believe that it was Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with a wrench.
How?
Jackson Scott decided to follow the fruit.
As a diabetic, you should've skipped the cheese blintz.
You're done already.
Thought you said it was going to take awhile.
Nope. Worked all night.
And what's the rush?
Oh, I see. So that's how it's gonna be, huh?
Hol, I wanted...
No. Don't...
Don't say it.
Don't say anything.
Not that you ever do anyway. But you know what? I'm gonna say something.
You're making a mistake.
You're going to wake up in a week or a month and you're going to realize that you threw away something good, and it's gonna be too late.
You know, I realize that there are three billion men in the world, and they don't all have to want me, but you should want me.
The fact that you don't, it just makes me wonder why I ever wanted you in the first place.
Are you going to say something?
You told me not to.
Well, I changed my mind.
I worked through the night because I found another small leak in your bathroom, and I wanted to surprise you.
Bigger job than I thought.
And how long is this gonna take? could take awhile.
I feel like an idiot.
Sounded like one.
How do I make it up to you?