04x02 - Little Red Book

[bunniefuu]

Hmm. Your... identification.

Congratulations, you are once again a consultant for the CBI.

Thank you. What about Lisbon?

Agent Lisbon remains on suspension pending departmental investigation of her actions in the Red John matter.

You'll be working with...

Ray Haffner from now on. He's an excellent agent.

Top-flight team.

You're dumping her.

Not at all.

Uh, we're conducting a careful and scrupulously fair review.

You're rehiring me and you're f*ring Lisbon.

That's a little perverse, don't you think?

No, see, you close cases.

Agent Lisbon ran a covert operation that led to the deaths of two police officers and one FBI agent.

There just has to be some accountability there.

My operation.

That was my operation.

Well, that's exactly the problem.

We expect better supervision from our senior agents, which is why Lisbon is being investigated and her team reassigned to other posts.

Uh, Haffner and his team already caught another case.

Here's the address. You can hit the ground running.

No, I don't think so.

No? What—what do you mean?

Just what I said.

I'll get right on this.

(Police radio chatter)

Jane, right?

Yeah.

Ray Haffner.

Hi.

Hey, look, I'm—I'm hoping we can just jump in and do the job.

Sound good?

Sure.

Great.

This is Patrick Jane. Jane, this is Rick Tork.

How are you?

Hi.

Anthony Niskin.

Nice to meet you.

Hi.

And Ed Masterson.

Hello. Hi.

Yeah.

(Police radio chatter continues)

Haffner: Absolutely.

The victim's name is Markus Kuzmenko.

Got hit with something pretty heavy on the left side of his head. No sign of the m*rder w*apon.

May I?

Thank you.

Gardener found the body when he, uh, came this morning.

Coroner says it happened around 11:00 last night.

Haven't found any witnesses.

Jane?

Hmm?

Any thoughts?

Yeah.

"The years teach us patience.

The shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting."

That's pretty deep. Is it Buddha?

Elizabeth Taylor.

This man's dead. I'm all but certain of it.

What?

(Sighs) All right then.

♪

Thank you.

Mmm.

How's the arm?

Better. Yeah, physical therapy's helping.

Good.

(Sighs)

Tell me, uh, what do you know about this guy Ray Heffner?

You're back at work?

Yeah, you know, just consulting.

Haffner. Uh...

Word is he's tough, by the book.

Mm-hmm.

I think he started out in the FBI organized crime division.

He had a couple of high-profile busts using wiretaps and creative surveillance techniques.

Surveillance, huh?

Yeah.

Hmm.

Why do you wanna know?

Eh, just curious.

Oh.

Can I take this?

You're leaving?

Yeah, new case. I, uh, I gotta man the phones, hit the sidewalk. You know how it is.

Yeah, I know. Thanks for coming by.

Pleasure.

Yeah.

Just so you know, Jane, I'm okay.

About?

Losing my job.

I'm not gonna say that I like it, but we got Red John. It was worth it.

Don't be silly. "A, " you haven't lost your job.

The hearing's a formality.

And "B, " we didn't get Red John.

Timothy Carter told you he was Red John.

He lied. Carter must have known him because he told me things that only the k*ller of my wife and daughter could know.

But he's not the man. That man is still out there.

Jane.

Someone told that security guard to take Carter's g*n and phone, then k*lled him.

Who would do that besides Red John?

Ergo, Timothy Carter is not Red John.

Carter had to have known there was a possibility you'd k*ll him. You always said you would.

Ye—

So maybe he asked a guard to take the g*n and the cell phone if you did.

Why?

To mess with your head, and it's working.

You're looking for a man you already k*lled.

Uh, Carter's wife is in custody. She said anything?

Nothing.

When she does talk, you know what she's gonna tell you?

That you sh*t and k*lled Red John.

Good for you.

No.

Thanks for the tea.

What do you mean?

Uh, lovely to see you.

Keep working that bum wing.

Keys, change, anything metal.

Thank you.

Rigsby: Thanks.

Jane.

New assignment?

Just temporary. Security's shorthanded.

At least that's what they tell me.

Cho got a call this morning. Not sure we're they're putting him.

Grace is still waiting to hear. At least we still have jobs.

(Box clatters)

You, uh, talked to Lisbon?

(Keys jangle)

Uh, yes. We're gonna have a...

(Lowered voice) a little secret meeting later.

Tell Cho and Van Pelt.

Secret meeting? About what?

I'll tell you then.

Keys.

(Indistinct conversations, telephone ringing in distance)

Hey, Tork, you're still 20 short on Tuesday's dinner.

Man up, my brother.

Yeah.

Hey, Jane, I heard you used to be in the circus.

Is that right?

Um, not exactly.

I like your shoes.

Yeah.

Hey.

I doubt Niskin meant anything, by the way.

What do you mean?

"You're short." "Man up."

I don't think he was referring to...

No.

I mean...

No.

What have we got on the victim?

Kuzmenko was a naturalized citizen originally from Estonia.

He was a swimmer on the Estonian national swim team, came over to the U.S. 2002, no family here.

Tork, stop playing with that little damn ball.

Man, you're driving me crazy.

(Masterson) He, uh, worked as a personal trainer at a gym near the capitol called work-it.

Got his picture off their web site.

I know that gym. A lot of bigwigs work out there.

Hey. Jane.

Your thing's reading people. What's this guy say to you?

I'd guess he was a narcissist and a serial seducer.

How do you get that?

A jock with manicured nails, too much cologne, too tight of pants, and he drives a 20-year-old muscle car.

Okay. We'll see if that's useful.

Uh, Masterson, you and Tork— you cover Kuzmenko's neighborhood.

Niskin, you run his phone and e-mails.

I'll talk to the people at the gym.

I'll go with you.

Sure. You can come.

Agent Haffner, you asked to see me?

Yeah, Cho, let's talk in my office. Meet you at the gym.

Sit down.

I saw your old team member downstairs—Rigsby?

That's tough.

I guess.

I know your reputation, Cho. I read your file.

You're a good cop, but this Red John thing really pissed Bertram off.

Puts you in a bad spot.

What do you think of Jane?

What do you mean?

You trust him?

Depends.

Think he's smarter than you?

Yes.

Think he's smarter than me?

Yes.

You're probably right.

I read Jane's file. I know what's gonna happen.

He's gonna go behind my back...

(Sighs) lie to me, run a scam on me, right?

Pretty much.

He's also gonna close cases.

I get that, too. I can work with Jane.

I just need some help, someone who knows him, someone who can telle what's going on, warn me when something's coming.

Now I'm not talking about betraying a confidence.

I just want to be kept in the loop.

What's the difference?

Well, the difference is, you help me, you can sit at your desk and work cases.

You don't, you're downstairs working the lobby with your pal Rigsby.

Where do you want to be?

Here.

Glad to hear it.

(File taps desk)

Here's the case file.

Good to have you aboard, Cho.

Oh. Just admiring your son. He as tall as you?

No, no. He's just 9 years old.

Right. So, what, he's about, uh, Tork's size?

(Laughing)

No, man. No, Tork's not that short.

No, my little man's probably about, like, right here.

(Laughs)

(Clatters)

Hey.

Was Niskin just talking about me?

Yeah, I-I gotta make an important phone call.

Son of a bitch.

Hi. I need some help locating a special item.

(Horn honks)

Gym's owner is Jocelyn Chapin.

You don't mind, I'll take lead.

Lead. Sure.

Good.

Ms. Chapin?

Ms. Chapin, hi. Agent Ray Haffner, CBI.

This is Patrick Jane. He's a consultant.

Hi.

I can't believe what happened.

I understand. How long had Kuzmenko worked here?

Uh, almost nine years.

He, uh, he started here right when he got to the U.S.

He get along with people?

Oh, yeah, everybody.

Markus was a real people person, just charming.

You couldn't really say no to him. (Chuckles)

So was he having any troubles recently or...

Not that I know of. Uh...

Um...

(Weights rattling and clanking)

(Gasps) Mike.

Yeah?

This—this is Mike Villanueva.

He and Markus were friends. These are, uh, agents from CBI.

Oh. Oh, it's crazy, huh?

Yeah, we're all pretty racked up here.

Yeah.

Did Markus mention any other difficulties that he was having— money, other issues?

No. No, he was doing great.

Ooh. Feeling that. Yeah. (Grunts)

We boring you, Jane?

(Strained voice) Nope. Not at all. (Grunts)

(Grunts)

(Clank)

Sorry.

(Lowered voice) I thought you were taking lead on this.

(Normal voice) How many clients was Kuzmenko sleeping with?

Excuse me?

You said he was a charming fellow, good looker.

He must have had his pick of the bunch.

I, uh, I gotta get back to my client now.

I have a firm policy against that.

Doesn't answer the question.

(Lowered voice) Listen, a lot of prominent people come here, all right?

Politicians, politicians' wives, and frankly, they expect some discretion.

Yeah, we don't really care. Answer his question.

Yeah, I-I heard rumors about Markus and some of his clients.

If they were true, then I would've had to fire him, and I didn't want to do that.

Markus was the most successful trainer that we had, so I-I didn't ask.

I don't have any names.

Except your own.

Yeah.

Yeah, a long time ago, very, very briefly, Markus and I had a thing.

A thing?

Nothing serious.

We were friends.

Oh. Okay.

I'm gonna need the names of all of Kuzmenko's clients.

(Panting)

Hi.

Lovely rings you have.

Thanks.

Expensive, I expect.

Your husband must be very generous.

Yeah. Do you mind?

Just, uh, one more thing.

Markus Kuzmenko— more of a gentle lover or a brute?

(Gasps)

(Thud) (Grunts)

(Treadmill whirring)

You okay?

Man down!

(Door opens)

(Door closes)

(Clatters)

(Sighs)

Your Mr. Jane— how did he know?

Your eyes were puffy. He could tell you'd been crying.

Does my husbd have to find out about this?

Depends on what you say.

(Sighs)

It happened a few months back.

Markus was coming by my house once a week to work on my abs he was so funny and charming, with a faintly... wicked quality.

Amoral, you know what I mean?

Unaware of moral precepts, as opposed to being purposely bad.

It can be a very attractive quality.

My husband's not like that.

Amoral, I mean.

Markus never hit on me.

I think I seduced him.

How long did the relationship last?

Twice.

Markus wasn't a relationship.

Yeah, if it was a just a fling a couple months back, why were you crying this morning?

He's dead.

It's sad.

(File rustles)

Your phone records show Markus called you last week.

You sure the relationship was over?

Um...

Markus said that he had a business venture he wanted to talk to my husband and me about investing in.

(Sighs) It didn't even occur to him that that would be an awkward conversation.

What was the business?

I don't know.

I told him we couldn't discuss it.

(Sighs)

So what about my husband?

There's a pretty good chance we won't need to talk to him.

I'd hate for him to have to find out, although a little bit, I wish he would.

Should we keep an eye on her?

She seemed pretty sincere to me.

Eh, she's a timid suburban adulteress.

The only thing she's k*lled lately is a bottle of Chardonnay.

(Police radio chatter)

Niskin! You think this is funny? !

What do you mean?

I just found these on my desk with a note.

(Laughter)

"Tork, try these lifts."

That funny to you?

(Laughing) I got nothing to do with that, man.

Just 'cause I wear lifts, you think I'm a joke?

I don't know about your lifts, but, yes, these are real funny, man.

Aah!

(Grunts)

(Clatter)

(Electricity crackles)

(Both grunting)

(Men shouting indistinctly)

Help!

My money's on the little guy!

I was engaged to this guy—Craig.

You know, he seemed like a good person.

We were happy.

Then I found out that he was an assassin for a serial k*ller named Red John, and he tried to... k*ll me and some other people, so...

I had to sh**t him.

Tell me, how it does it feel telling that, recounting it?

Not good. Pretty bad.

Can you elaborate?

Can I ask, how long does this therapy usually last?

It depends. There's no set calendar.

I'm sensing hesitation on your part.

I guess...

I just don't believe that this will really work, talking about it.

What's the point?

Grace, somebody you trusted and loved betrayed you— betrayed you so badly, you had to take his life.

That needs to be talked about.

(Chuckles)

It could've been worse.

I could've married him.

(Cell phone rings)

(Ringing)

No phone calls during session. That's a rule.

It's work. I gotta take this.

Sorry.

(Beep)

Van Pelt.

(Sighs)

I can be there in 15 minutes.

Who should I report to?

Since agent Tork has been removed from active duty, I assumed you'd want to replace him.

Was I incorrect?

(Telephone ringing in distance, indistinct conversations)

(Police radio chatter)

Agent?

No, you were not.

We could, uh, definitely use another set of hands.

Get inside. We'll put you to work.

Thank you, sir.

All right.

Everything all right, agent?

Oh, yeah. Excuse me.

(Footsteps approach)

That was a nice little game you ran on Tork.

Meh. Tork. He was angry with everybody taller than him. Certain to burst eventually.

You wanted my attention. You got my attention. But if you try to run another game on me or my people, we're gonna have a problem.

You know that Babe Ruth wore a cabbage leaf under his cap to keep himself cool?

Changed it every other inning.

Agent?

Yeah.

The night before the m*rder, a woman walking her dog called in a suspicious man sitting in a car near Kuzmenko's house. Said he'd been there a couple hours.

She get the plate?

Belongs to Mike Villanueva.

Mike, when we talked, you didn't mention visiting your buddy Markus' house right before he got k*lled.

I didn't wanna talk about it in front of my boss, that's all.

Why are you worried about your boss?

Business is down at the gym.

Jocelyn's on us to bring in new clients.

Anyone who loses clients is in trouble.

And you're losing clients.

No. (Chuckles)

No, I'm not.

Was Markus stealing your clients?

Yeah. Basically.

Look, Markus got the looks and the talk, so people wanna work with him.

He doesn't push them like I do.

I work 'em hard.

And you know what I get?

Five clients signing up with Markus in a month.

Right, so you went to Markus' house to confront him.

And I wanted to have it out with him.

What happened?

Nothing. He apologized. Said that he took the clients 'cause he needed the cash.

But he'd just gotten a lot of money, said he didn't need the extra clients anymore.

And then we went into his house, and we got wasted.

(Chuckles)

And that's Markus, man.

Went there to punch him out, ended up partying.

What'd he need the money for?

He wouldn't tell me.

Said that nobody at the gym could know.

Where'd he get the cash?

He wouldn't tell me.

But, uh...

I got a feeling... from the way he talked... it wasn't anyplace good.

The question is, what did Kuzmenko need money for?

And who did he get it from?

That's two questions.

Excuse me?

Two questions.

Kuzmenko's boss at the gym, Jocelyn Chapin, sent over a list of his clients.

There are some pretty high-powered people on it— state senator, assemblyman, people who work for the governor.

It's just the names that I recognized.

There's a lot of women here.

You gotta think some of them would pay to keep an affair with Kuzmenko quiet.

You think Kuzmenko slept with one of these women then blackmailed her.

Maybe. What do you think, Jane?

Meh...

Well, I wanna pursue it, and look for this money that Kuzmenko got.

If it's not in his bank account, look for other accounts, safety deposit boxes, things like that.

Okay.

Cho, you and me, we're gonna work through this list, starting with his most recent clients, try to identify who he was sleeping with.

Where are you going?

Uh, I thought I'd just go over to Kuzmenko's house, take a little look around.

Why?

It's what I do.

Not alone.

Masterson, go with him.

Okay.

Keep an eye on him.

Yep.

Okeydokey.

So what are you looking for?

Whatever's here to see.

We already went through the house.

We didn't find anything.

I'm sure you didn't.

Pretty dull, yeah?

You know, if you wanna go get a coffee, I won't tell Heffner.

Yeah, I'm gonna go do that.

(Scoffs)

Suit yourself.

Some more just tottering around.

Mm.

See, me... (Sighs)

I like to take a break now and then.

A moment to, uh, rest and relax.

Take it easy.

Close the eyes... and shut out the day.

Rest... and relax.

Try not to see anything... or hear anything.

Let time stop.

Rest... and relax.

What happened?

Huh? Nothing.

You did something to me, didn't you?

Huh?

You hypnotized me.

(Chuckles) That's absurd.

You know that only weak-minded and easily manipulated people can be hypnotized.

Yeah, we're leaving.

I'm not finished.

Yes, you are.

Okay.

(Beep)

(Phone rings)

Hello?

Laroche.

Yes.

Hi. It's Lisbon. I wanted to ask a favor.

It's about Sally Carter.

Sir?

I'm busy, agent.

Sorry, but there's nothing unusual in Kuzmenko's checking or savings accounts.

I did find something else, though.

What?

A couple days before he was k*lled, Kuzmenko made four phone calls to an Oleg Mostovoi.

He's not with the gym, and it's the only time Kuzmenko made the calls.

It's right before Kuzmenko started saying he had a lot of cash.

Maybe Mostovoi had something to do with it.

Yeah, or maybe he's a friend.

You wanna find the money, track the money.

Find that, and then we can talk about Mustavoi, Muscavoi, whatever his name is.

(Cell phone rings)

(Ring, beep)

Van Pelt.

Patrick: Grace, time for the secret meeting.

I'll be right there.

The way I see it, we got one sh*t at saving Lisbon's job.

Rigsby: You think we can?

All we have to do is solve the m*rder without Haffner.

Then we take the m*rder*r to Bertram, use our success as leverage to get Lisbon back.

That's not gonna work.

Come on. When have I steered you wrong?

Recently?

How do we solve the m*rder without Haffner?

We catch the k*ller before he does.

Kuzmenko was an athlete.

He was a compulsive record keeper.

No doubt that included very detailed records of his sexual partners, probably with a rating system.

You have to get into the house, and you have to find that list of lovers.

It's probably in an address book, a calendar, or a journal.

I don't like it.

It's insubordination. We're already on the edge here.

It's for the boss.

This goes wrong, we're out.

They're not gonna give us another chance.

I don't care. I'm in.

Me, too.

Okay.

That's the spirit.

(Telephone ringing in distance, indistinct conversations)

(Police radio chatter)

You wanted to know if Jane is doing anything.

Take a seat.

Thank you for doing this.

I don't mind, Teresa.

Bertram has treated you poorly.

(Door creaks) Not that he solicits my opinion on such matters.

Why do you wanna talk to Sally Carter?

I wanna ask her some questions about Red John.

Hmm.

(Creaks)

She hasn't spoken since her arrest, not to anyone, so set your expectations accordingly.

Just so you know, um...

I am leaving the Major Crimes unit, returning to professional services.

Was always a temporary assignment.

Well, good luck to you.

Thank you.

It was... interesting working with you and... Jane.

I think that's the polite word for what it was, but thanks.

Open it up.

(Clank)

Mrs. Carter.

LaRoche: Mrs. Carter.

Get a medical team here!

(Man over p.A.) Medical team to cell 117.

(Alarm wailing)

All prisoners, return to your cells.

How?

She got hold of a spoon, sharpened the shaft, slit her wrists and throat.

What are you doing here?

I came to ask her if her husband was Red John, because you need convincing.

Nice try.

Turns out I didn't need to ask. She left a note.

"My life began the day I met the lord and master of my heart, Red John.

Now that he is dead, all is shadows and silence."

She goes on.

Yeah, it's a bit purple. Let me see.

(Gate buzzing in distance)

See?

You did it.

You k*lled Red John.

(Whispers) Jane...

Shh! I'm reading.

(Muttering indistinctly)

So how was the therapist?

You know, talking about what happened just makes me feel worse.

I don't think I'm gonna see her anymore.

Grace, you have to go to counseling. The job says so.

It could be a spiritual adviser.

You know, my godfather's a Presbyterian minister.

He'll sign the forms for me.

You think that's a good idea?

Yeah, I do.

I got this.

(Rattles)

Agents?

Looking for this?

(Telephone ringing)

So I found this hidden in Kuzmenko's bedroom.

14 of his clients are named in it, with sexual details and some kind of coded rating system.

So there's a really good chance that one of these women k*lled him.

But you weren't gonna tell me that, were you?

Probably not. No.

Right.

You wanted to solve this one yourself.

Oh... that was the plan.

(Chuckles) Did you really think that was gonna happen?

Like I wasn't watching you every minute?

Jane, I would have worked with you if you'd given me the chance.

I'm taking this to Bertram. Get out.

(Police radio chatter)

He go for it?

Oh, did he. Time to break the news.

Let me get this straight.

Haffner has the address book, but it's a fake?

Fake as a $3 bill.

And then how did he find it in Kuzmenko's house?

Well, I copied the names from the list of Kuzmenko's clients.

Then I put the book where Haffner would find it.

Then I told Haffner that Jane thought the address book was at the house, so he went to the house.

Why?

Haffner's all about surveillance.

I knew he'd be following us.

I had to do something to throw him off the scent.

Now we can solve the case without Haffner looking over our shoulders.

No. No, no.

Don't be hasty.

I will deal with you in a minute.

(Grunts)

When Bertram finds out about this, he'll have a coronary.

We knew there was a risk.

Which is why you shouldn't have done it.

Go to Haffner and apologize.

Tell him it was all Jane's fault.

Oh, well, that hardly seems fair.

Maybe you can convince him to give you another chance.

It's not gonna happen.

She's right.

Oh, God. Why are you doing this?

You were okay. All you had to do was keep your heads down.

We wanna work for you.

Let me talk to Jane alone.

(Door closes) I could k*ll you with my bare hands.

Well, it's not the first time.

Come on. You don't have a choice.

You do nothing, they get fired.

You work with me, they keep their jobs.

And you might even get yours back.

All right, but it's just you and me.

They don't do anything else.

Okay.

What's the plan?

(Cell phone beeps)

Plan is we catch the k*ller.

Kind of obvious.

Jocelyn Chapin. Patrick Jane.

We're on the verge of catching the k*ller, but we're gonna need your help to pin him down.

Get a pen and paper. There's some people I need you to get to your gym.

Oh. We're gonna need some of that... (Makes spritzing sound)

the—the glow-y spray stuff the crime scene guys use.

Glow-y spray stuff?

Yes. Yeah, the glow-y spray stuff. It's vital.

Got a pen?

We appreciate your help.

Think this will work?

Oh, about 68.2% sure.

Can I have everybody's attention, please?

Yes, everybody, you— those with the, uh, ear things.

Uh, yes, could you— thank you. Sir. (indistinct conversations)

You as well. Yeah. Thank you.

This won't hurt a bit. My name is Patrick Jane.

This is Teresa Lisbon.

We're investigating the death of Markus Kuzmenko.

His k*ller is somewhere in this room right now.

Kuzmenko was struck in the head with a heavy object, and we believe it was one of those weights from this gym, so we're gonna test them with a spray that can detect trace elements of blood on a surface by glowing, even after it's been cleaned.

We find the weight, we find our m*rder*r.

So if you could all sit tight, be patient, the k*ller will soon be revealed. Thank you.

Excuse me.

Yes.

Hi. I'm an attorney.

Oh.

Even if you do find blood on one of those weights, there's no way to connect it to anyone in this room.

Ah, fingerprints, my friend.

Fingerprints?

My fingerprints are on lots of those weights.

That doesn't mean I used them to k*ll anybody.

You make an interesting point. Okay. Hypothetical.

What if I hid the weight in my car?

Or my office? My house?

Would that prove that I was the k*ller?

I-if you found the m*rder w*apon in my car, yeah.

Is it in your car?

No.

No, I knew it wasn't in your car, because it's in her car.

Right, Jocelyn?

What?

The weight you used to k*ll Markus— you hid it in your car when we told you we were coming over, didn't you?

No.

Oh, please. You practically jumped out of your skin at the mention of "car."

No, I didn't.

Yes, you did.

No, I didn't.

Yes, you did.

Okay. There's only one way we can settle this.

Shall we?

What's this?

It's a kettlebell.

I keep it in my trunk for visits to clients' houses.

(Spritzing)

Can you explain why it has blood on it?

(Telephone ringing in distance, indistinct conversations)

Ms. Chapin, I just spoke to a man named Oleg Mostovoi.

He's a loan shark.

He said a few days before the m*rder, he loaned Kuzmenko $75, 000 and that Kuzmenko said he needed the money to start his own gym.

Is that why you k*lled him— he was gonna compete with you?

You know, I heard from a realtor that Markus was looking at gym spaces.

My gym isn't doing so well anymore, so if he would—would have left and... taken his clients, I wouldn't have been able to stay open.

You confronted him.

I begged him to stay.

And it's embarrassing. I...

I said that he shouldn't leave because of what we meant to each other.

And he just looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.

And he had just forgotten.

I suppose there had been that many girls since.

Oh, and then he remembered later, and he was charming, of course, but...

I just... I just couldn't help remember that look.

Like I'd been deleted.

And so I went to his house and I waited for him.

(Crickets chirping)

Ohh!

(Grunts)

(Panting)

You know, I-I don't know why I did it.

I...

I've been on this super strict diet, and it messes with your blood sugar.

M-maybe that's it.

(Birds chirping)

Ray, you told me that this book contained the names of many politically prominent women who were carrying on affairs with the victim in your case and that your k*ller was likely one of these women.

Yeah, which is a PR nightmare.

Right? So I called the leadership of both parties to warn them that we—we might have to act on this because the one thing they hate more than bad news is being surprised by it.

But then... lo and behold, I find out that— that the names in here are forged.

There's no scandal.

No, the book didn't even belong to the victim.

It's yours, I assume.

Uh, yeah, if I could. Uh, thank you.

I hate raising false alarms. It makes me feel so foolish, which I suppose was the point.

Well, maybe just a little.

Okay, if I may say, sir— no, you may not.

Now, Ray, I-I thought that you could handle Jane.

Well, we all make mistakes.

But we'll find something else for you to do. Don't worry.

(Sighs)

(Door closes)

Now... I have a problem.

Because, uh, our urgent need for your skills is precisely balanced by my desire to fire you before you destroy the bureau or my career... or both.

I understand.

Mm. You're in a tough spot.

You know who's always, uh, been a very, uh, healthy moderating influence on me?

(Chuckles)

Yeah. Of course.

Lisbon.

I'm sorry.

Not possible.

Well, then... you will continue to have a problem.

(Telephone ringing in distance)

Hey.

Hey yourself. You settling back in?

Almost.

Yeah.

How'd you do it— get Bertram to come around?

Oh, wasn't so hard.

Rational discussion between two reasonable men.

Rational discussion. I bet.

Mm-hmm.

But, uh... by all means. Go ahead.

I'm sorry?

Say it. I won't get embarrassed.

Say what?

(Whistles)

Oh. You mean say "thank you"?

Oh, you're welcome. Was it so hard?

The thing is, not dealing with you every day has been very restful for me.

My back pain's gone.

I sleep really well, so I'm actually not so sure I'm grateful to be back.

You're a terrible liar.

No offense. Good, honest people—always bad liars.

Which makes you what?

Jane? Security just called.

They've got someone waiting for you downstairs.

Name's Rosalind Harker.

Thanks, Grace.

No problem.

Rosalind Harker? The woman that lived with Red John three or four years ago?

Ah, they didn't actually live together.

Uh, he was more the gentleman caller.

What are you seeing her for?

Great to have you back, Lisbon. Just great.

What are you doing, Jane?

(Door squeaks)

Thanks for agreeing to this, Rosalind.

I wasn't busy. Besides, it sounded urgent.

It is, in a way. Are you still playing piano?

Not really. I'm tired of playing for myself.

I think I need an audience.

Okay, it's just here, and through a doorway to your right.

Something the matter?

(Inhales deeply)

Just a chill.

Let's go.

Okay.

(Drawer rolling)

No one claimed the body?

That's so sad.

You'd think they'd have done something with it.

There must be a waiting period or something.

Yeah, something like that.

You understand... he never called himself "Red John" to me.

The man I knew was Roy Tagliaferro.

Roy and Red John are the same person.

I'm sure of it.

Is this him?

(Exhales deeply)

I never met this man.

I have no idea who he is.

Thank you.

(Drawer rolls)