11x15 - The Fight in the Fixer

[bunniefuu]

Booth: Okay, here we go. Christine's first report card.

Lay it on me.

Brennan: In math, her teacher gave her an E-plus.

Wait a second, I don't know what that means.

It's, like, one step up from an "F."

That's bad.

No, "E," in this case, stands for "exemplary."

It's the highest possible grade.

Of course it does.

And it's E-plus, too, huh?

She also got an E-plus in physical education.

That is something I never achieved.

Lightning-quick reflexes.

Just like her dad, huh?

Fast like a flea.

Aw, you remembered.

Yeah, okay.

What about spelling? I was horrible at spelling.

Thank God for computers, 'cause I, you know, I couldn't even spell the word "spelling."

Well, that's just sad, Booth.

That's a joke.

Okay? Come on, what'd she get?

E-plus.

E-plus!

Actually, she got perfect grades across the board.

This calls for a celebration.

(phone beeps)

Taking her out for ice cream after dinner.

What is it?

A body was found in the Potomac.

It's being brought to the lab.

Well, that's not good, because that means the local PD moved the victim from the crime scene, and I know how much you hate that.

I do.

However, I'm not going to allow this minor irritation to get in the way of my excellent mood.

I mean, our daughter is a genius.

E-plus.

Two frat guys from Georgetown found the body while attempting a polar bear plunge in the Potomac.

From what I can see of the remaining tissue, the victim was a Caucasian male.

Big, too, at least six feet tall.

Yeah, well, the facial reconstruction is gonna be a bit tough without the mandible.

Whoa-ho-ho, nice bracelet.

I'm not sure who's got more ice on them, you or the victim.

Uh, the victim, obviously.

Hodgins: You like it? I got it for Angie as a desperate attempt to apologize for what a jerk I've been recently.

It wasn't necessary.

You've... you've been through a lot.

I know, but I just want you to know that I'm trying and... and I love you very much.

Okay, enough of the lovey-dovey.

Honestly, I found you guys more bearable when you were unbearable.

Saroyan: Well, I for one, am glad to see you more like your old self again.

Now it's just Dr. Brennan's mood I have to worry about.

Montenegro: Yeah, uh, there's no way she can do an examination on a human Popsicle.

Wells: According to my calculations, at room temperature, without forced convection, it should take approximately eight hours and 33 minutes for the ice to melt.

Brennan's not gonna want to wait that long.

Actually, I think I have an idea.

So what are you thinking?

Homicide? Accidental drowning? su1c1de?

Well, we don't know, Aubrey, till we get stuff back from the lab, right?

Here are the pictures.

Ah, there you are. Finally.

Hello. (chuckles)

Karen, great.

Yeah.

Okay, what are you doing here?

Does the BRIU have an interest in the case?

Oh, no, uh, actually, I don't know what case you're referring to, but if you need my help.

No, actually, you know, it's probably just a su1c1de, so...

Oh, really?

'Cause given the weather, I don't think so.

She doesn't think so.

Obviously.

No, see, su1c1de by drowning decreases 72% in cold weather.

Behaviorally, we can't control our reflex to get out of icy water.

Unless you jump off the bridge, and then you really don't have a choice of getting out.

Which bridge?

Aubrey: Body was found in Rock Creek; nearest bridge is Theodore Roosevelt.

Oh, no.

See, the bridge of choice for jumpers is either the Duke Ellington or the George Washington.

Besides, I mean, look at this body.

Our victim's wearing a suit.

Looks nice, put together.

Nope. I think you've got a body dump.

Booth: Okay, so that's great.

Thank you very much for coming in.

If you don't have anything else about the case, you can...

Oh, no, actually, I-I came to see Agent Aubrey.

He's right here.

Me? Okay. What do you need?

Well, I have not had my morning coffee yet, and I thought maybe you and I could go get some.

Together.

I already have coffee.

Well, maybe, um, a rain check.

Tonight?

Excuse me?

(quietly): She's asking you out on a date.

Mm-hmm. What do you say?

Oh. (clears throat)

I'm sorry, what?

What we've done is we've hooked these vents up to a metallurgical blast furnace.

I happened to have one lying around from a previous experiment.

Is this the same furnace that almost b*rned down the lab last year?

Uh, different circumstances, but yes.

I call her Smaug, because this baby breathes fire.

Wells: According to my calculations, it should take approximately 15.2 seconds for the ice to melt.

What about the water and particulate evidence?

Yeah, there's a 400-gallon basin below the grates that's catching every last drop.

Proceed.

T minus three.

Two.

One.

(fire roaring)

It's working!

Applied science is a beautiful, beautiful thing!

(remote beeps)

(chuckles)

I must say, that is excellent work.

Ooh.

Well done, Dr. Hodgins.

You are king of the lab once again.

♪ Bones 11x15 ♪
The Fight in the Fixer
Original Air Date on May 12, 2016

♪ Main Title Theme ♪
The Crystal Method

♪ ♪

Ugh, God, just when I think I've seen everything.

It's like you're rootering a pair of lungs.

Yeah.

The interesting thing is, I'm not seeing any river water.

No dinoflagellates or micro-algae in any of this lung tissue.

Well, that means, then, that that behavioral analyst was right, that this was a body dump.

So I'm guess things are better between you and Hodgins?

Oh, yeah, they are.

It's just this is totally not me.

Well, it's totally me, so no complaining.

Yeah, I appreciate that he's trying.

It's just, it's not like it was before.

We're not... intimate.

Give it time.

I'm sure he'll engage with you when he's ready.

And you'll be right there when he does.

Thanks.

Oh.

Oh, hey, what about... what about her?

Her?

Yeah, for an I.D.

I mean, if a guy gets a tattoo of a woman's face on his arm, then she probably meant something to him, right?

You want to run your facial recognition software on the tattoo?

If we can find her, then maybe she can give us an I.D.

Booth: Okay, so when's the big date?

There's not gonna be any date.

Mm, that's not what I heard.

I heard you say "yes."

What was I supposed to say? She blindsided me.

Who the hell asks someone out in front of another person?

Well, you know, shrinks tend to be a little bit crazy.

And you know what they say about the crazy ones in bed.

No.

(phone beeps)

Look, things are going great with me and Jessica.

I don't want to mess that up.

You got something?

Yeah.

Angela's sending me, uh, an I.D. of the tattoo of this lady, Lissa Bowman, Bethesda, Maryland.

Lissa Bowman-- why does that name sound familiar?

Huh, maybe you had coffee with her.

Ooh.

You're good, you know that?

Yeah. Mm-hmm.

All right, you mind taking that one?

I'm gonna go, uh, sort out this date thing with Karen.

No problem.

You better nip this in the bud, huh?

Because, before you know it, coffee turns into lunch, and then lunch into dinner, and then the candles are burning low all night long.

Lissa: Yeah, it's got to be Frankie.

He got that tattoo when we were vacationing down in South Beach one year.

That's also where I was born.

Really?

So when did you first notice your husband went missing?

A week ago.

I didn't really think much of it, 'cause he's often out of town for work.

Mm-hmm. And what kind of work did he do?

Frankie was what you would call a fixer.

And his clients were nothing but top-shelf.

Politicians and CEOs, athletes.

He even had a handful of movie stars.

Right, okay.

So his job was to use whatever means necessary to make sure his client's problems went away.

Frankie always tried to keep me safe by not telling me too much about what he was doing.

I just wish Frankie had taken such good care of himself.

I'm gonna need to talk to somebody at his work.

You should talk to Kerry, his assistant.

I'll get you her number.

Right. (clears throat)

Here you go.

Agent Booth, you find who did this, you hear me?

You find them, and you make them pay.

Dr. Brennan.

In examining the cleaned skull, I identified some perimortem stellate fractures to the alveolar process, the maxilla and the inferior nasal conchae.

Fractures which are indicative of blunt force trauma.

I believe cause of death was due to intracerebral hemorrhage.

I concur.

Good work.

I see your daughter did well.

Oh, yes.

We're very proud of her.

I, too, received nothing but top marks at her age, in every subject matter.

Of course, standards were much higher when I was in first grade.

A point of fact, I actually was exemplary in all my subjects.

What do you mean "standards were higher"?

Well, take this E-plus Christine received in Art.

Look at that drawing.

The lines jitter. The color palette is either primary or mud brown.

She hardly applied any shadowing techniques at all, which I certainly did at her age.

Objectively speaking, I'd have to give her work a "G," for good.

At best.

Are you criticizing my daughter's art?

And her math skills.

I mean, look at that stick figure, which I can only presume is you.

It has 14 fingers.

And while polydactylism is a real thing, I hardly think it applies here.

Dr. Wells, you can go, and have Dr. Hodgins swab the skull for particulates.

Oh, I already did that before I came in here.

But that shouldn't surprise you.

After all, I am exemplary in all my work.

Aubrey: So, listen, about the whole coffee thing this morning, you know, my apologies.

I-I misunderstood.

The truth is, I'm... I'm seeing someone.

No, I totally get it. It's fine.

So no... no hard feelings?

No.

It's intriguing, but...

No, no hard feelings.

Wait, what's intriguing?

So you said that you knew the victim, Frank Kwiatowski?

What? Yeah. No, sort of. Uh, my-my father used his services back in the day.

Ah, that's right.

Benjamin Aubrey, financier.

Arrested for running a multimillion-dollar Ponzi scheme and then running off to Croatia instead of facing charges.

(whistles) I see you did your homework.

Well, it's just, I like to know who I'm going out with, or not going out with as the case may be.

You must have some profound daddy issues.

So why did your father hire Kwiatowski?

You know, honestly, my father never really talked to me about his business, okay?

He just let me tag along sometimes.

Fascinating.

Your daddy issues, I mean.

It explains why you're such a pleaser.

Why you say yes to things that you don't need or want, like coffee.

Have you ever seen a therapist?

You know, I think I could be of real help to you.

(exhales)

I'm gonna take that as a no.

Look, we deal in delicate matters, but to be honest, I can't think of anyone who had the balls to mess with Frank.

He could be intimidating.

Did you guys, uh, remodel recently?

No. Maybe, like, five years ago. Why?

No reason. I just...

I used to come here a lo... long time ago.

I see you've expanded.

A conference room, second office.

Oh, so business is good.

Frank was outstanding at his job.

Oh.

How was he as a boss?

Good enough.

Well, then I'm curious why you waited a week to report him missing.

Because I was in Atlanta working.

Look, I'm telling you, if you want them, I've got car rental and hotel receipts.

Not to mention a dozen eyewitnesses.

Well, speaking of paperwork, I'm gonna need copies of all of Frank's case files, including his computers.

Be my guest.

Go at it.

(clears throat)

(laughs)

Okay, come on, Kerry.

You and I both know that those aren't the real files.

I don't know what you're talking about.

You know, as a kid, growing up, I was pretty curious.

Tended to snoop around a lot.

In fact, that's probably why I became a cop.

Oh, no, I think you became a cop because your father's a pathological liar and it made you question everything.

Or that's one opinion.

Anyway, as I was saying, I tended to snoop around a lot, especially when I had to entertain myself because my father was too busy for me.

That's how I know that mirror is a two-way.

There's a hidden camera in that lamp.

And... while a lot of these fixtures have changed-- new sink, new faucet-- there's still one thing that hasn't changed.

Where your boss hides all of his most important files.

Hey. I finished my analysis of the trace found in the skull wound.

I found particulates of northern white ash.

So the blunt force object that bludgeoned the victim in the face is made of wood.

Dr. Brennan, I found distinct remodeling on the lateral surface of the victim's left proximal tibia.

This damage appears to have been inflicted approximately one year ago.

I'll inform Booth so he can check hospital records.

Hodgins: Hey, by the way, I looked at the e-mail of the photo you sent me of your niece's art grade, but without the original, I...

Wh-What are you doing?

Excuse me.

What photo are you referring to?

Uh, nothing?

Or maybe not.

It's-it's not a big deal.

I mean, Oliver, he just, he asked me to examine a jpeg of his niece's report card.

Your niece's report card?

Hodgins: So Oliver was under suspicion that the little tyke actually changed a minus sign into a plus, in order to dupe her simpleton parents.

I take it that you proved Dr. Wells' suspicions to be misguided at best.

Uh, no, actually, it looks like that's exactly what she did.

I mean, it's impossible to determine without further analysis, but based on the shade and the thickness of the actual stroke, I mean, I would say that two different pens were used.

Anyway, as you can see, no big deal.

Just doing a little favor here for a friend.

Dr. Brennan, let me explain.

After our last talk, I felt I had been overly critical, so I came to your office to apologize, and that's when I noticed the inconsistency.

Of course, to my credit, my hunch was correct.

My daughter did not cheat.

Well, evidence would say otherwise.

I thought, as a scientist, you would want to know the truth.

Wow, are you guys finding as much dirt as I am here?

Uh, yeah, great big heaping mounds of it.

I am looking at a wiretap transcript of a Ukrainian ambassador who was moonlighting as a... as a arms dealer.

Ooh.

That's nothing. I mean, I've got a lobbyist who paid our victim to blackmail a prep school headmaster so his doofus son could get in.

Huh. Uh-oh.

You find something?

Yes and no.

What do you got?

It's your father's file.

I mean, you should be the one to open it.

Aubrey: No.

My father has no relevance to the case.

He's been out of the country for 18 years.

It would be unethical for me to read it.

But aren't you the least bit curious?

Not at all.

(phone beeps)

Whoa, wait a second.

Hold up, guys. Look, the lab found evidence that our victim's left leg was shattered a year ago.

Wait, shattered, like a car accident shattered?

They're saying it was a blunt force, so it would be a bat or a pipe.

Okay, I'm sorry, but are we just gonna breeze right by your father's file?

Is that what we're doing here?

We're working.

Okay, Karen?

Yeah, I know.

Just, sitting on a trove of paternal secrets while working is-- I'm just gonna throw it out there-- odd, but carry on.

Thank you.

So maybe the person who shattered Frank's leg came back to finish the job, right?

That doesn't make sense. Why would the k*ller wait a whole year?

Whoa, look at this.

Frank worked for this woman who was divorcing a low-life nightclub owner named Jimmy Nasari.

Aubrey: Nasari, yeah.

I know this guy.

He's a mid-level wannabe mobster.

He's been trying to make a name for himself for years.

Right, Jimmy's go-to move was, uh, breaking a man's legs with his signature bat.

That makes sense, especially as the wood found in the victim's face was white ash.

Delfs: Whoa, look what I found. Okay.

Nasari had a payout to his wife.

It was court ordered last week for $12 million.

All thanks to the work of our victim.

Booth: Wait a second.

You're saying that that squint accused Christine of cheating? Who?

Dr. Wells.

Dr. Wells?

That goofy tall guy who no one likes?

Dr. Wells had Hodgins examine a photo of the grade.

Hodgins is in on this?

Well, he didn't know what he was testing, but his analysis suggests that a minus sign was changed into a plus.

That can't be right. I mean, Christine wouldn't...

What subject was it for?

Art.

Booth, Christine did not forge a school document for the sake of a grade.

Of course she didn't.

It's ludicrous.

Absolutely.

Our daughter is not capable of such fraud.

Well, she's six years old.

It's impossible.

Of course not. Really?

Don't know who you're talking about. I never met the guy.

Booth: All right, I asked you one question.

I already have you on obstruction of justice.

Look at the picture again and think.

Yeah, all right, fine, I knew the guy.

But I didn't k*ll him.

What, do I look stupid to you?

Your pronounced browridge is suggestive of Neanderthal man, so yes.

You're kidding me, right?

Get the hell out of here.

Booth: This is what I'm not understanding.

Help me out here.

Why is it that after you break Frank's legs, he doesn't go to the cops?

Perhaps he doesn't press charges because you threatened to k*ll him if he ever talked?

Yeah, right.

I wish that's what he did.

I don't understand.

Why would you want him to press charges?

Look, Frank Kwiatowski is no angel, all right?

Instead of shutting the hell up or going to the cops, you know what he did?

He waged an all-out w*r against me.

Well, what exactly did he do?

What didn't he do?

He used his local cop contacts to shut down half my clubs on some zoning violation.

And then he goes to see my mother, who's got Alzheimer's disease, starts gas-lighting her, telling her things like I can't afford to keep her in a nice home anymore.

And then my kid gets expelled from St. Malo's for having dope on him, which I know Frank planted.

You want me to keep going?

So you admit you have multiple motives to k*ll.

I didn't do it, all right?

You were scared of him.

I'm not scared of anyone, you hear me?

All right, look, I need to know your whereabouts last week.

That's easy. I was down at the shore at one of my hotels.

Hey, I found fresh duck feces on the tread of the victim's shoe.

I trust you're telling me this for a reason, other than to make me say "yuck."

So the feces belonged to the greater scaup, uh, which is found only in a few places in the D.C. area.

The first one is Anacostia Park.

Second one is the tidal basin, which is near the FDR Memorial.

And then third: Roaches Run Waterfowl Sanctuary.

Which means the victim was at one of those places at or near time of death.

Good work.

How's my beautiful and talented wife coming along with the victim's computer?

Montenegro: Not great.

Frank encrypted his files, so I'm using counter-steganography to see if I can gain access to it.

Let me know when you're done.

Yeah.

Uh, Angie.

Yeah?

I have something for you.

Oh.

So the bracelet looked so good on you that I thought I should get you something to go along with it.

Oh, my God.

Wow.

Gosh, that's really so beautiful, but, um, this is too much.

I don't... I don't need any gifts.

No, uh, take it, Angie.

I mean, look, I-I was really terrible to you, and you deserve this, so go ahead and-and try that on.

It's-it's very sweet, and, uh, it's a generous thought, but I don't...

I don't...

Angela, please, just try it on.

Okay.

Wow.

Yeah, it's-it's awesome.

You look amazing.

Awesome.

So Hotel Victoria in Atlantic City just confirmed Jimmy Nasari's alibi.

Don't worry, I think I found something.

(scoffs) I'm not worried.

Well, you're eating a jelly doughnut in the middle of the afternoon, and eating is your coping mechanism, so...

Or, yeah, maybe I'm just hungry.

Oh, okay.

Hey, speaking of being in denial, I really think you should read your father's file.

Okay, have you read it?

Yes.

Is there anything in it related to the case?

No.

Great.

Then I'm not reading it.

Your discipline is terrifying.

Thank you.

What do you got?

Okay, so this is a client who has an office off of Anacostia Park, which also happens to be where the greater scaup duck congregates.

Are you serious?

Abraham Froome, the CEO from, uh, Froome Tire Centers?

Th-This guy's a billionaire ten times over.

Well, it seems like Froome hired our victim to retrieve some sort of blackmail sex tape.

And then the blackmailer also sent several still photographs as proof of what he still possesses.

Oh!

Wow. Oh, man.

Super rich really aren't like the rest of us, are they?

Well, it just seems like Grandpa wanted his nuk-nuk.

Aubrey: So let me get this straight here, Mr. Froome. You hired Frank because you were being blackmailed?

Yes.

Somehow someone made a video while I was staying at the Hotel Poggio.

The blackmailer sent me an e-mail demanding I pay him $2 million.

I asked Frank to handle it for me.

And then what happened?

Well, at first, Frank told me not to pay.

He said he would take care of retrieving the video.

When he came back several days later, h-he was badly beaten about the face.

Delfs: So you're saying the blackmailer assaulted him.

That's when Frank told me I should pay, that this blackmailer was insane, someone who would not listen to reason.

Last time I saw Frank was to give him the money so that we could pay this guy off.

Wait, so are you telling me that Frank had $2 million in cash on him the day that he d*ed?

Any luck tracking down an I.P. address on that e-mail the blackmailer sent?

No, unfortunately, it's a dead-end.

He or she used an overseas proxy, so there's no way to trace it.

What about the still itself?

You just can't get enough of that, can you?

What can I say?

Fetishes are my fetish.

Seriously, though, I just don't get it.

I know, right?

I mean, if this guy really wanted to be in diapers so badly, he should have just waited a couple of years.

(sighs)

So, uh, what-what have you got?

Okay, so to be honest, this is still a work in progress, but I've applied an enhanced-resolution pixel algorithm to scale up the mirror image in the background.

Well, the mirror looks like it's reflecting something.

Yeah, the closet where the blackmailer took the video from.

Now I'm gonna amp up the color balance and brighten the pixelation.

Now, unfortunately, you still can't make out the face.

No.

But look at chest level.

It looks like a name tag.

Can you enhance even further?

Uh, no, unfortunately.

But, look, we know the guy's wearing a green jacket with a yellow stripe on its sleeve.

The color scheme of the Hotel Poggio.

Right, which means the blackmailer must be an employee.

Wells: Given Mr. Froome's statement that the last time he saw the victim, he was badly beaten on the face, I reexamined the bones for evidence of a physical altercation.

You're referring to the victim's fight with the blackmailer?

Yes. As you can see, I found bruising to all five right proximal phalanges.

The placement of this micro-fracture on the thumb is strange.

The victim was an experienced fighter.

Why would he hit using the top of his fist?

Yes, it's true, the victim was experienced, but even the best in their field can become overconfident and, quite frankly, sloppy from time to time.

Dr. Wells, I'm only going to say this one last time.

My daughter did not cheat.

Then there's no reason not to let Dr. Hodgins test the ink to confirm that I'm right.

What about the teeth?

Did I reexamine them?

Yes, of course.

Dental damage is quite common in instances of as*ault.

Please note the chip on the left maxillary first bicuspid.

Suggestive of recent trauma.

Also, I see something else.

Here on the lingual surfaces of the central maxillary incisors, there appears to be an acid-like discoloration.

(phone chirps)

Oh.

It's Booth.

H-He's picking me up.

It appears he has a lead on Abraham Froome's blackmailer.

While you're gone, I'll have Dr. Hodgins swab to see if we can discern what damaged the teeth.

And after Dr. Hodgins is finished, have him analyze the ink on my daughter's report card.

An excellent idea.

Perhaps you'd like to place a little friendly wager over who is correct.

Booth: Bones, you got to be kidding me, right?

You made a bet with this creep?

Booth, it's not a bet if you know you're going to win.

Aha, you know, that's funny, because that's what gambling addicts say all the time.

Well, if it's any consolation, it's not a monetary bet.

That would be insensitive and too close to home.

Okay, so what is it, huh?

You're not gonna end up with a tattoo of this guy's face or something?

No, of course not, because I'm going to win.

Okay, you know what?

I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Do me a favor, open up the file, see what we got.

Fine, but I'm going to win.

Okay, Valon Dudeshev.

Yes.

He is a bellhop at Hotel Poggio.

Right, I called the manager at the hotel, asked if any of his employees showed any signs of being in a fight.

And Valon showed such evidence?

No, not exactly.

See, he hasn't come into work for the past week.

The last time anyone saw or heard from him was just before our victim was k*lled.

Okay, Valon's apartment number is 447.

Right here.

Okay, I just want you to stay back.

I don't think he's gonna come in quietly.

(faint chatter)

Oh, Booth.

I think I hear someone inside.

FBI.

(whispers): Okay, stand back. I think he's coming.

Man: Hello?

Valon Dudeshev?

Uh, maybe. Who is it?

Booth: It's the FBI.

We need to ask you some questions.

Okay, ask.

No, open the door, and we'll ask questions.

Man: No, no, no, no.

I-I answer from here, like this.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

You're gonna open the door.

If you don't, I'm gonna break it down.

All right, I'm kicking it in, in three, two, one.

I tell you, I did nothing.

I am victim here.

Really? You're the victim? All right.

Then do you want to explain this little, uh, blackmail video that you made?

See the stills that we pulled off it?

So you want to explain this, huh?

You not understand.

This is very bad man.

He is very wealthy, but no tip.

This is not reasonable.

You blackmailed him because he didn't tip you?

Blackmail is very harsh.

I only make video and suggest good decision for family.

I'm sorry, so what the hell happened?

Frank slipped you the dye after he handed over the cash?

I do not know who this Frank is you talk about.

Frank. This man, Frank.

That's the guy you b*at up.

You told him to go get the cash, and then you k*lled him.

No, I k*ll no one!

Last week, I come home, this man is on couch.

He has g*n in hand.

Right, you got into a fight.

First, he take video I make, then he rob me.

Take my cell phone, my-my computer, everything.

Why?

'Cause he crazy.

Then... he tell me to get in the tub with purple dye.

If not, he sh**t me.

What about the money?

No, no money!

I am victim here.

Why else would I look like this?

Dr. Hodgins, do you have the results from your swab of the lingual surfaces of the central incisors?

Yes, I do, but I owe you an apology.

I had no idea that that report card was Christine's.

Does this mean you have completed your analysis of the ink?

What? No.

I-I didn't even start it.

I mean, look, Oliver tried to convince me that you were on board, but do not worry, okay?

I know that that was a lie.

It is not.

Please, run the test.

Seriously?

Mm-hmm.

Yeah, no, I mean, if that's what you want.

Yes.

And... what about the swab of the teeth?

Right, yeah.

So, uh, what I found was a combination of hydrochloric acid, potassium chloride and sodium chloride, or more commonly known as gastric acid.

Meaning the victim regurgitated around time of death.

Yeah, and since I don't think this guy was the bulimic type, I had Cam test for poison.

And what did she find?

No poison.

Oh.

But she did find trace amounts of ketamine.

Which means that our k*ller tried to roofie our P.I. before giving up and just whacking him in the face with some blunt force object made out of wood.

Actually, I'm not so sure that's what happened.

Okay, let me get this straight.

Your theory is that the victim was given the ketamine in order to disorient him, but upon feeling the effects...

He ran to the nearest sink in order to purge the drug from his system.

Right.

Okay, so this is the rendering of the victim and the sink in his office.

Which is made of white ash, same as the particulates found in the skull fragments.

Now all we need to do is make the avatar throw up and simulate the head smashing into the sink.

Uh, sorry, no, can't do that.

Which part?

Uh, the smashing of the skull is no problem, but the vomiting?

No way.

Why not?

Vomiting is disgusting.

Angela, you have created countless reenactments for me-- stabbings, sh**t, even beheadings.

But now you're saying no to regurgitation.

Girl's got to have her standards.

Okay, then the head trauma alone will have to do.

Oh. Looks like we have a match.

(indistinct police radio chatter)

Aubrey: You got anything?

No.

No blood evidence.

But based on the scratches to this wood, I'd say this is definitely where it happened.

Who had access to this office?

What do you mean?

Well, I mean, you've got a key, don't you?

Yeah, but so what?

I was in Atlanta.

Plus, Frank always kept the door unlocked, so a friend or client could come by any time they want.

Dr. Brennan, I trust you put Dr. Hodgins in his place and he's proceeding with his analysis?

I have, although I am concerned that this wager is becoming a distraction.

Never.

In fact, allow me to show you my latest discovery.

Please note the, oh, so subtle antemortem damage adjacent to the left zygomaticofacial foramen.

Interesting.

These micro-fractures are consistent with a fist striking the skull.

But the question remains: who inflicted this damage?

The victim claimed it was his blackmailer, but that is illogical.

Why? Because the blackmailer was dyed purple?

Or perhaps he dyed himself purple?

An action so idiotic, it was in fact genius.

No, just idiotic.

I take it you have a better explanation?

What if the damage to the victim's first proximal phalanx was self-inflicted?

I don't follow.

I'm positing that the victim caused both injuries to himself.

And you thought my scenario was idiotic.

Why would someone punch himself in the face?

Oh, uh, actually, I might have an answer for that.

So we know the bellhop claimed the victim stole his cell phone, his computer, basically anything that connected him with the outside world.

Yes, by his account, he was dyed purple and then robbed.

Right.

And since I don't have any of his electronics to analyze, I thought that I could at least confirm the date and time that his online presence went dark.

If they all happened simultaneously...

Wells: It would confirm his account of the events.

Yeah.

Okay, so the bellhop's cell phone, Twitter account, tablets, I.P. addresses all went dark around 6:43 p.m. on Friday.

So the bellhop was telling the truth.

And that's not even the best part.

Abraham Froome's bank accounts show that he withdrew $2 million the day after Valon went off the grid.

So the victim lied.

He secured the video, but he kept the money for himself.

And he bruised and bloodied his own face in order to sell his story.

Hey.

Did some digging around for Froome's missing two million, I found something I think you're gonna want to see.

Kerry Napoli's bank statement.

Well, where's two million?

All I see is a thousand dollars here.

You got to go to the second page, okay, third line down.

Look at the bank fee for $62.58.

(whistles) Safety deposit box.

Ten by ten inches.

She just got it a week ago.

Big enough to hold two million.

Bring her in, will you?

What the hell?

You had no right to get into my safety deposit box.

There was no probable cause.

One of your cases, a-a few years back, you and Frank helped an Omani prince b*at a drunk driving manslaughter charge in Jersey.

You're kidding, right?

The Patriot Act?

That's how you got a warrant?

See it turns out, our friends at Homeland Security were curious about what was inside.

They wanted to make sure you weren't aiding and abetting a known t*rror1st.

Yeah.

(sighs)

Look, I opened that safety deposit box because that's what Frank wanted.

He had me put the money in there.

Because you were having an affair.

Frank's plan was for us to leave the business and move to Amsterdam.

Maybe South America.

Why didn't you tell us about this sooner?

Why do you think?

Look, I know this looks bad, but I swear, I was just doing what Frank told me to do.

And what about Frank's wife?

Was she aware of the affair?

Honestly, I don't know.

Kerry, we're gonna need to hold you here until further notice.

Fine.

But I would like to speak to an attorney.

Hey, Dr. B, I got results for both of the tests you ordered.

What do you mean, both?

I thought we were just waiting on the ink.

We were, but then I found something probative that you missed.

That's impossible.

I haven't missed anything.

Look here.

We know the victim's head was driven into his own sink.

However, what you failed to do was closely examine the posterior surface of the skull for any damage due to a forward thrusting blow.

And as you can see, there is a faint scratch adjacent to the nuchal crest of the occipital bone.

I see. And this scratch was likely caused by the k*ller?

Hodgins: Which results would you like first?

The swab or the ink analysis?

I'll let Dr. Wells decide.

The ink analysis.

Okay, so I ran a thin layer chromatography on the actual plus sign.

And then, to confirm the results, I actually processed it through imaging electro-spray ionization, as you can see.

The results were definitive.

The plus sign was made up of two different inks.

As a gentleman, I will do you the courtesy of not saying "I told you so."

Even though you just did.

Dr. Hodgins, what of the test that actually matters, the swab results from the occipital?

So, the mass-spec found evidence of zirconium dioxide and nine karat gold.

So the victim was likely scratched by some cheap, gaudy jewelry made of low-grade gold and cubic zirconia.

I'll let Booth know right away.

All right, just listen to me, all right?

Hold on for a second, okay?

If you play ball with me, none of this is gonna make it to the papers, all right?

Great.

Okay, you'll be hearing from me soon. Thanks.

Booth, what is going on?

I just looked in interrogation.

I thought you were bringing in the wife, Lissa Bowman.

Oh, yeah, I was, until I took a look at her monthly credit card statement.

Take a look at that, huh?

Ten times more than my mortgage.

Okay, she's rich.

So what?

Exactly, she's rich.

Okay, rich people don't go around wearing nine karat gold or cubic zirconia.

Only young women wear that.

Yeah, but she's got a motive.

Her husband was having an affair.

Kerry Napoli's got an alibi.

Does she?

I don't think so.

Kerry, I'm Agent Booth.

I have some questions for you.

Agent Booth, before you say another word, I'll have you know my client is willing to confess to her part in robbing Mr. Froome.

And what about murdering your boss?

I loved Frank; we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.

I don't buy it.

You're a P.I.

You're not some naive little girl who believes in happily ever after.

You k*lled him and you took the money when you had the chance.

Really? That's your theory?

Well, there's just one little problem.

I've got a dozen witnesses that saw me in Atlanta that day.

Right, your alibi, but you see, here's the thing.

See, your witnesses are your clients.

So what?

So...

I know you have dirt on every single one of your clients.

You blackmailed them for an alibi.

He's lying.

There's no way you can prove that.

I just talked to one of your clients, and when I told him that you couldn't extort him anymore, let's just say he was singing a different tune.

You're bluffing; you're just trying to get me to confess.

Bluffing?

No, I'm not bluffing.

I don't need a confession.

See, I have evidence, means and motive.

Which means you're under arrest.

Saroyan: This is nice, and a long time coming.

In fact, I would like to propose a toast to Hodgins.

It's great to see you out and about again.

Aubrey: Here, here.

Montenegro: Cheers.

Good to have you back, old man.

And to Angela, for forcing Hodgins to get out and about.

Thank you. It was not easy.

Yeah, how exactly did you do that?

Oh, by giving away the jewelry that, uh, I gave her.

Saroyan: Yep.

I have to say, I think these look pretty fab on me.

And the only way that Hodgins can get them back to return them is by going out with me tonight and three more times this month.

Drives a hard bargain, huh?

Saroyan: Well, until then, these babies are mine.

Hi, there.

I'm so sorry to interrupt.

I'm Camille Saroyan.

I don't think we've officially met.

You must be Karen Delfs.

Yes, nice to meet you.

And so weird, because I feel like I know you, since I've read your psychological profile.

Can I speak to you for a second?

Absolutely.

Be right back.

Bye.

(clears throat)

Okay, what is going on?

You're not gonna ask me to coffee again, are you?

No.

Get over yourself.

I actually found a date for tonight, thank you very much.

He's right over there.

Aubrey: Really? Wow.

Yeah. To be honest with you, he's... he's dumb as a box of hair, but, you know, beggars can't be choosers.

Besides, not like I want something long-term.

I'm just sort of looking for one last fling before I leave town.

I'm sorry, you going somewhere?

Oh, I'm being transferred to Kansas City on Monday.

Really?

Yeah.

I had no idea.

Well.

Listen, why don't you let me, uh, buy you a drink before you hit the road.

No, no, no. I really, um, I have to get going, but I think you need to take a look at this first.

Karen, I already told you, look, I'm not reading this file, okay?

What happened with my father, it's in the past.

I'm-I'm over it.

No, see, it's not in the past.

This file was started six months ago.

Your dad isn't abroad anymore.

He's here.

He's in D.C.

And the person that he's investigating... it's you.

What's going on?

Are you okay?

No, I'm not.

I lost my bet with Dr. Wells, and as a result, I have to pay up.

(laughs) Great. What is it?

What do you have to do?

It's not funny.

I'm now the voice mail on his phone.

This is what he had me record.

Hmm. (sighs)

Okay. "Hello.

"You've reached the voice mail for Dr. Oliver Wells, the most brilliant forensic anthropologist in the history of the Jeffersonian."

Bones, this is, like, two pages long.

How can you do that?

It's humiliating.

And what's worse is that tomorrow you and I will have to have a conversation with Christine about cheating.

No, we don't.

Yes, we do.

The grade was altered, Booth.

It was scientifically proven.

Uh-uh, you're looking at it all wrong.

Turn the report card over.

Look at the teacher's signature.

Ink. Ink, ink, color, color.

Okay. What?

Oh, wait.

It appears the signature is made up of the same ink that was used to complete the plus sign.

Exactly.

And you really think that our little girl would be able to, what, forge an adult's signature?

Of course not.

I talked to the teacher today, Mrs. Gallagher, and she told me that she ran out of ink halfway through the report card.

So she picked up another pen.

And finished what she intended to do, and that was give our brilliant little kid an E-plus in Art.

I knew it!

What? What?

What? What?

I knew it. I knew it!

Yeah!

See, you should admit it.

Admit it that your science is bunk.

Booth, no, technically, the science was not, but I will concede I did not see the complete picture.

What are you doing?

I'm calling Dr. Wells.

Uh, he needs to change his voice mail immediately.

Brennan (recorded): Hello. You have reached the voice mail...

Okay, Bones, you can fast-forward that by just pressing the pound...

No, hold on.

I want to hear it. I...

You have to admit, I have an excellent voice.

What? Are you kidding me?

Yes, it's quite sonorous.

Sonorous? What is that?

Sonorous.

What do you mean?

Bypass it.

Press pound once.

No, Booth, shh.

If you keep talking...

What's that mean?