Elementary s02e05 Episode Script

What do you think? Not your color.
Pretty sure this is the only color that platypus skulls come in.
I'll take it.
Anyway, told you, it's not for me, it's for Sherlock.
He's into stuff like this.
You name a kid something like Sherlock, you pretty much guarantee he's gonna be into stuff like that.
Actually, his name is the least odd thing about him.
I'm gonna have to introduce you one of these days.
I'm hoping this little guy will distract him for a while.
He's been bored.
No interesting murder cases in the last couple of weeks.
Oh, poor thing.
You know, if you guys are really looking for something to do Yeah? Nothing.
It's embarrassing, actually.
Oh, is it? Look, I was thinking about you last week and I was gonna call you, and I I'm trying to find a guy that I lost track of.
Uh-huh.
A one-night stand.
Jennifer Sayles! I met him after one of our girls' nights, actually.
Do you remember, like, a year ago, drinks in Midtown, and you bailed early? Well, I ended up at this little bar on 42nd, and I met Tony.
Okay, does Tony have a last name? Look, I know that he's a photojournalist, I know that he is amazing and that we just clicked.
It wasn't just a drunken thing.
It wasn't, I'm telling you.
After the bar, we went to a gallery opening, and then we ended up back at my place.
The whole night, it was just perfect.
It was like a movie.
Except he had a flight first thing in the morning.
Some job in Paris for a couple of months.
We didn't even exchange numbers.
Jen, I have to be honest.
I mean, if all you have is a first name, I don't even know where I'd begin.
Anyway, this isn't the kind of thing that Sherlock and I do.
Yeah, but you're great at this, right? You're great at it, and, Joan, I swear, I would never, ever ask you to help me with something so mortifying if I didn't think that this guy might really be the one.
What you are describing is not a case, it is a wild goose chase, only at the end of a proper goose chase you get to eat a delicious goose-- in this instance, ur friend gets to find out that some sweaty Lothario is not the man of her dreams.
Do you want to help me or not? You are a consulting detective, you are my partner.
The work you are describing falls somewhere between photographing philandering spouses and finding a lost cat.
I urge you to have some professional pride.
I do.
Okay, she's my friend, and she asked me for my help.
Anyway, it's not like we have anything better to work on.
We have cold cases, dozens of them.
You have been looking at these for days, and so far the only things you have solved are the theft of a penny-farthing bicycle and a nonfatal arson case which is older than my father.
You have not left the house in a week, and you're beginning to smell like old mimeographs.
Be that as it may, I'm quite certain that we can do better than helping your friend find an MIA pickup artist.
How? Sometimes, Watson, when one wants a diamond, one must resort to digging in a diamond mine.
For future reference, a morgue is not a diamond mine.
It's better.
Diamonds are just pressed coal; corpses have stories, secrets.
You said you had an "in" here.
A certain deputy medical examiner who can be relied upon to allow me access.
And he's okay with letting a civilian waltz in here to shop for a wrongful death he might have missed because? Because he's so competitive, it borders on illness.
Let me guess-- somebody wants an ass-kicking? First time for everything, I suppose.
This is Joan Watson, my partner.
This is Dr.
Eugene Hawes, my sparring partner.
Oh, it's nice to meet you.
You, too.
Usual stakes? My cash against your corpses.
Ponziani? You think you can come in here with that weak stuff? it's time to call it a day.
I'm seriously starving, and that is something that should not be happening in here.
Well, there's a vending machine down the hall, and at least a dozen more bodies, so we have the makings of a lovely evening.
Right, this is Leo Banin.
Killed when his motorcycle veered across the yellow line into an oncoming minivan.
The driver of that vehicle, a Melissa Aguire was also killed.
Nope, there's no mystery there.
The head wound is the cause of death and the reason we have helmet laws.
We have a case.
Sherlock, nobody killed this man.
No.
But the day he died, he murdered someone else.
You know, we got a lot going on here.
We always do.
If you're looking for entertainment, you don't need to go shopping at the morgue.
I reviewed your open cases-- Sisyphean drudge work.
Nothing half as interesting as what we have found.
A traffic fatality? A professional hit man.
His driver's license identified him as Leo Banin.
According to his obituary, he was happily married, a deacon at his church, and an RN at a retirement home.
But before that, he was a member of the Rukovskaya Bratva.
Note their distinctive eight-pointed star.
Detective Bell was kind enough to run Mr.
Banin's fingerprints through the international database.
Leo Banin started life as Vitaly Andropov, an assassin for the Bratva's Polish outfit.
Interpol believes him responsible for a string of gruesome killings in the Warsaw Wesola district dating back to 2005.
Later that year, Leo Banin sprang into existence.
He began a quiet life as a nurse in Queens, got married shortly thereafter, hasn't been heard from since.
Well, that makes sense.
When you get tired of killing people in Warsaw, you retire to a place like Jackson Heights.
I don't believe he did retire.
At least not permanently.
These cuts on the side of his palms, they are uniform, a perfect matched pair.
He was wearing gloves when he lost control of his motorcycle and slammed into oncoming traffic.
I don't think that those are a result of the crash.
I once apprehended a serial killer in Kensington who strung his guitar with six different murder weapons.
He had scars on his hands very similar to those.
Leo's wounds are raw.
I think he garroted someone the day he died.
Well, not a bad bet, considering that was his M.
O.
in Warsaw.
Oh, and now in New York.
Whoever he killed, do you think he did it on Bratva's orders? That's one possibility.
There's just one problem.
Unless you have a garroted corpse I'm not aware of, you don't have a victim.
If you don't have a corpse or a missing persons report, you don't have a case.
Which is precisely why we intend to speak to the assassinurse's wife.
We're hoping she might be able to cast some light on the situation.
Of course I knew the tattoo.
I knew he came here to get away from an unhappy life in Poland.
A bad life.
I didn't know he I can't believe Leo was a killer.
Were you aware of his real name-- Vitaly? His name, to me, was Leo.
That was his real name.
Can you think of anyone that your husband may have wanted to harm? Someone he'd argued with? You don't know my husband.
Talk to our neighbors, our friends.
He was a wonderful man.
An hour before the accident, he called me to say he loved me.
Did he give you that necklace? We met at the church.
Whatever you say my husband was, that was the past.
Finding God changed him.
I see he got a medical administration degree a year ago.
It was our dream to open a senior care center.
He had partners to help.
We were finding investors.
This was his life.
Respectfully, Mrs.
Banin your husband was a killer in Poland.
A few days ago, he killed again.
When the one that you love is revealed to have a dark heart, it is well, it's excruciating.
I speak from experience.
The shock will burn off.
You will feel anger.
If there is anything that you can tell us about who your husband may have killed, helping us find that person, that is an excellent way to begin to repair yourself.
I'm sorry.
I cannot help you.
This message is for Travis Hardwick.
This is Manny Tarkanian.
I have a huge renovation; it needs to move fast.
I hear that you're the best builder in Queens.
I'm gonna text you my contact information.
Please please get in touch.
Thank you.
Who is Manny Tarkanian, and why does he have a lisp? Childhood sledding accident.
But let's not get caught up in the backstory of a passing alias.
The question you should who is Travis Hardwick? I don't need to ask.
You're gonna tell me anyway.
Let's begin with two givens.
Firstly, 76% of all murder victims know their assailant.
We, as a species, we tend to be killed by the people closest to us-- our friends, our spouses, business associates.
Secondly, it certainly appears that Mr.
Banin née Andropov has resigned his position as a contract killer, which makes it even more likely that the victim is someone that he knew.
These are bereavement cards, notes from floral arrangements.
You stole these from Lara's house? Hmm, yes.
I was hoping to ascertain which of Leo's closest associates had failed to send their condolences.
Luckily for us, in this case, evidence of absence is not absence of evidence.
Okay, well, if one of his friends didn't send a card, it might mean they're dead.
But you don't even know who his closest associates are.
We know some of them.
His partners in the nursing home venture-- all but one sent a note.
Travis Hardwick.
It says here that he is a real estate developer, but his online CV strongly suggests he is more of a small-time contractor with very poor reviews.
At present, Mr.
Hardwick is either very difficult to reach or very dead.
Well, it is 11:00-- it could be that he may be asleep rather than in a shallow grave.
I see.
Locating this man is obviously less important to you than whatever plans you have this evening.
Unlike you, I have an official case.
I'm going to the bar where Jen met that guy.
You're welcome to come.
No.
Your friend would be better off employing a gigolo than a private detective.
She'd be amazed how cheaply a night of anonymous abandon can be had.
Is she attractive? I might be able to provide the service free of charge.
No.
Can I get you something? Whiskey, neat.
Hey, the guy at the door said, um, you've been working here the longest.
Only since birth; it's my dad's place.
Oh.
What's up? It's just a friend of mine met a guy here about a year ago, so Oh, yeah.
I think I remember him.
He likes alcoholic beverages, right? Well, I was hoping he might be a regular here.
His name is Tony.
He's a photojournalist.
Sorry.
What's this all about, anyway? Uh, nothing.
Just-- it was a long shot.
Hey.
Hey! Um, this place must be pretty crazy on Brazilian Day, huh? What, are you kidding? Little Brazil is pretty much just this block, so, like, half the parade ends up in here every year, and it's madness.
Uh, thanks.
Thanks.
That's really helpful.
Here it is.
Hit play.
You can see Leo followed Travis to his truck that day.
Your boss' truck-- does it have a LoJack? I don't think so.
What is it you think happened to Travis? We don't know that anything happened to him.
We just want to make sure he's okay.
Hey.
I said you could come in and see the tape, not go through his stuff.
If your boss is okay, I strongly suspect that he will not notice his filing system has been violated.
So, unexpected three-day absence from work-- did you think of calling the police? Clients are in here every month bitching about something-- the work's slow, there's money missing, whatever.
Travis pisses a lot of people off.
Leo was really scary that day, but Travis kept saying, "It's under control, it's under control".
I didn't worry 'cause a little while later he sent me a text, - said he was headed to Jersey.
- Jersey? He has an uncle, lives out in Newark; I figured he went to borrow more money-- it's happened before.
Well, I'm not so sure that he sent that text or that he even went to New Jersey.
"Pouring the concrete today".
Wait a second, did you just read his lips? The construction site of Leo Banin's nursing care facility.
Difficult to imagine a more ideal place to dispose of a body than the foundation of a building.
It's a shame, really-- the world will never know what an elder care facility run by a former assassin would look like.
There's Travis' truck.
If he did leave here, he didn't use his own vehicle.
So, if this is his final resting place, I guess the question is, where do we dig? We? Us.
The police.
Captain Gregson wants a body.
Hey, you know what? This might be something.
The concrete over here is a little darker.
Could be they were working construction overnight.
Or it might mean that Leo poured a fresh patch over here.
Maybe Travis is buried under it.
No, we're wrong.
Travis isn't here.
Travis, you're alive.
That's unfortunate.
I just want to be clear here, okay? You guys are not cops, right? Oh, oh, man.
I-I really thought you were cops.
I mean, the girls-- they definitely thought you were cops.
So, you thought I was dead, huh? We just need to know everything you can tell us about Leo Banin, and then you can, um, then you can resume your activities.
Oh, yeah, right.
Right, Leo.
You said he was dead.
Poor guy, huh? So, how'd you guys know I was in here, anyway? Actually, it was a concert ticket.
You had a stub in the cab of your truck.
The date and time suggested that you survived your visit from Leo.
After the show, you returned to the building site and you haven't left since, and I know this because there are no tracks behind your truck.
It rained that night, hasn't since.
Anyway, you've been here snorting cocaine and underwhelming a string of affordable prostitutes ever since.
Uh, I wouldn't say underwhelming, pal.
Your secretary showed us a video of Leo confronting you outside of your office.
He seemed very angry.
Well, yeah, I just told him that his nursing home was pretty much kaput; we ran out of money.
You don't appear to be completely out of money.
No, I-I was until Leo pushed some on me, and I told him, 25 grand wasn't gonna be enough to bail us out He gave you $25,000? Yeah.
He said he went to a loan shark.
To tell you the truth, I felt kind of bad taking it, 'cause it wasn't gonna move the needle-- but, hey, dog's got to eat, right? So I figure live it up on St.
Leo's dime, party till Chapter 11, baby.
Did he identify the loan shark by name? No.
What are you doing? We should leave this gentleman to his after-party.
Hey, that's my money, pal.
Actually, this is Leo Banin's money.
That cocaine, however, that's entirely yours.
"J-G-9- Do you want to tell me why you're so sure that this money was stolen? I mean, I know that Travis said it came from a loan shark, but Look at it, Watson.
What do you see? Well all the bills look pretty old.
I mean, maybe it's from the '90s? $20 bills do not last in circulation more than four or five years.
All of the money Leo gave to Travis was at least One old bill, that's a rarity; a stack of old 20s from a loan shark astronomically unlikely to be of legitimate provenance.
You were right.
My friend at the Bureau says these bills were flagged.
The cash you found was taken in a bank robbery back in 2001.
Looks like the guys who did the job are still locked up at Otisville, but half the cash was never recovered.
We have reason to believe it was recently distributed by a loan shark.
Well, Russell Gertz was a name that kept popping up.
Feds suspected the stolen cash ended up with him.
Couldn't make a case.
Gertz is a moneylender, used to run a book.
Collared twice, never indicted.
Mr.
Gertz is a cautious man-- waited over a decade before putting his dirty tender out on the street.
Or maybe Leo garroted him and took it.
You have an address for this Mr.
Gertz? Not a current one.
He's got a judgment against him for unpaid parking summonses.
City marshals can't find the guy.
Hmm.
It's official-- I am superior in every way to the New York City Marshals.
You figured out where to find Gertz.
His sister Ida owns a nail salon in Bushwi Somehow the business has managed to survive for over 20 years, despite being located in a heavily industrial part of town.
Not another beauty-related business in a ten-block radius.
Well, sounds like a front.
Indeed.
What's that? I was able to get a little traction on the thing I was helping my friend with.
The case of the century? Yeah.
I mean, she met the guy over Labor Day weekend, on the day of the Brazilian Day parade.
Okay, the place she met him is, like, the heart of Little Brazil-- it would have been wild that night.
So So you thought the local news media might have footage from the bar that evening.
Yeah.
Well, you know, they love all that stuff-- celebrations and parades.
So I called Channel 3 and I asked around, and sure enough, they have B-roll from that night.
So if I'm lucky, Jen and her mystery man are gonna be on it.
- I'm sorry, I cannot indulghe this trifle any longer.
We have a real case.
Russell Gertz's nail salon cum loan-sharking lair awaits.
And I will be there in a minute.
It was me.
I slept with your friend-- ravaged, actually.
I'm Tony.
I'm on that tape.
She has a beauty mark here, she has size six feet, she bites her nails and thankfully nothing else.
Sherlock Sherlock It was a year ago.
You had only recently taken up residence here as my sober companion.
On those rare occasions that you would allow me a few hours unchaperoned time, I followed you.
Usually you went jogging or to the store.
It was not a riveting surveillance detail, I assure you.
But on one of those occasions, I saw you with Jennifer.
Having gleaned little about you to this point, I saw an opportunity, hmm? I waited until you'd gone, and then I approached, as Tony from Long Island, with the intention of steering the conversation towards you.
Now, we didn't end up discussing you so much as You seduced her.
Actually, it was she who initiated our dalliance.
She's an aggressive and, I may say, limber woman, your friend.
It was good.
Evidently, not as memorable for me as it was for her Enough, enough.
I don't even know where to begin.
I mean, I guess we could start with the, the major betrayal of trust that you just sort of breezed past.
You used to follow me? It was not a breach of trust.
We did not have this yet.
You were new.
In order to allow you into my confidence, I needed to get a sense of you.
Once I was satisfied your intentions were sincere, I stopped.
I have not violated your privacy since.
Hmm? And I apologize.
I was wasting my time, and you knew it.
You could've just told me what you'd done when I told you about the case.
Okay, and you know what? Apologizing to me isn't gonna fix this.
There may well be a dead loan shark waiting for us in a Bushwick nail salon, so perhaps a solution will present itself on the way there.
Alive.
Again.
Why can't anyone be dead today? Mr.
Gertz, my name is Sherlock Holmes.
This is Dr.
Joan Watson.
We are consulting detectives for the NYPD.
Okay.
That's an ugly bruising on your arm.
No ligature marks.
I thought perhaps he had survived an attack from Leo Banin, but obviously you were accosted by someone else.
Leo who? You know Leo.
You loaned him $25,000.
Sorry.
I don't know what you're talking about.
want to ask me some questions, you're gonna have - to go back and get some real cops.
Mm-hmm.
You want us to do that so you can empty out your autoclave.
Strangely, it's unplugged.
Stranger still, it's been fitted with a padlock.
I didn't realize that emery boards and nail clippers were so valuable.
Is that where you keep the money that you bought from that bank job back in 2001? Or are you smart enough to keep it someplace more remote? I've got a deal for you, Mr.
Gertz.
Tell us everything you know about Leo Banin, and I will not alert the various sundry authorities who might be interested in your whereabouts.
Leo, uh he took care of my mom before she passed.
He worked at the home.
He was a bit preachy, but a nice guy, at least until he learned what I did, and then, of course, I was the devil.
And yet he came to you for a loan.
Ah, he needed 50 grand to put the nursing home back on track.
He had no collateral, so I gave him 25 grand on the arm.
On account of the fact that he was nice to my mom.
Now you know what I know.
Well, I-I disagree.
We still don't know how you sustained those wounds.
I fell.
I have vertigo.
Ah.
Why don't you go and get a piece of pen and paper, so you can make some notes, so you can keep your story straight for when you're in custody? All right, just hold on, hold on, hold on.
A couple days after Leo showed up, I got a visit from a guy named Grigori Andrev.
He's Bratva.
The Russian mob was here? Grigori knew that I had loaned Leo money.
Don't ask me how.
You, uh, deal off the books, it's like a small town, and he wanted me to help him track Leo down for him.
Uh, I didn't think it was such a nice thing to put the Russian mob on one of my clients.
So you resisted, and he threatened to break your arm.
Uh, turns out I didn't have anything more than what he already knew.
He knew Leo's home address, he his phone, everything.
I got my arm mangled for absolutely nothing.
That's the whole story.
Uh, y-you ain't gonna tell the cops, are you? You are gonna keep your word, aren't you? Sherlock Holmes for Detective Bell.
I don't really have a problem with you violating that creep's trust, but I would have thought you'd at least given him a-a running start.
I'm not calling about him, I'm calling about Leo Banin.
Gertz just told us that the Rukovskaya Bratva came here cracking heads, looking for Leo.
A few hours later, he was dead.
Even if you do believe in coincidences, that one strains credulity, does it not? Why would the Bratva want to kill one of their own? He wasn't one of their own, hadn't been for quite some time.
Well, coincidence or not, Leo's motorcycle crash was ruled an accident.
I think it's time we looked at that crash site ourselves.
Taxi! And this time, we should get some proper help.
Hope you got something good, dragging half the precinct out here.
Apparently Leo's old friends in the Bratva found out he was hiding in New York.
Pretty sure they chose this spot for an unhappy reunion.
Found a couple of these, just over there.
The tobacco is an admixture most commonly found in counterfeit cigarettes produced in Moscow.
Whoever smoked these left more than just cigarettes.
These are from a .
45.
We talked to a loan shark that Leo borrowed money from.
He told us that a Bratva soldier by the name of Grigori Andrev came looking for him.
We think he was the one who left these.
There are some motorcycle tracks just over there to indicate Leo Banin left the scene in a hurry.
You would, too, if Grigori Andrev was shooting at you.
What the hell was Leo Banin doing way out here? We're not sure yet, but the headline is, the crash that killed him and the driver of the other vehicle was no accident.
The highway patrol-- they didn't conduct a search this far back-- there was no apparent reason to.
So they missed these casings.
They also missed the bullets lodged in the telegraph pole and fence over there.
Now, the shots must have caused Leo Banin to swerve into a minivan, killing someone.
You know how the Bratva like to rotate their players after a job.
We put the BOLO for Andrev out wide, tristate and Chicago.
Wanted on suspicion - of two wrongful deaths? - Yeah, Leo Banin and a Melissa Aguire, the other driver.
Hey, I got something! Grigori Andrev.
He's the one Leo strangled.
I guess you can cancel this.
Last time I checked, dead men couldn't pull triggers.
So, if he didn't shoot at Leo Banin, who did? That's a little loud.
You know? Studies have consistently shown that changes in one's surroundings, background noise, even the angle from which materials are viewed, can result in fresh insights.
That was background noise to you, huh? Were you able to reach the Warsaw police? Yes.
And I got a pretty good idea why Vitaly Andropov changed his name to Leo Banin and left Poland in 2005-- he stole his Bratvian buddies.
That's about 30 grand American, give or take.
Well, perhaps his past caught up with him the other day.
Anything from ballistics of note? Not exactly what we were hoping for.
Those .
45-caliber slugs taken from the scene match perfectly to bullets that we pulled out of a RICO witness last year-- the guy was about to testify against the Russians.
Rumor had it that Grigori Andrev was the triggerman.
But he was not the shooter on this occasion.
Unless you think he was doing target practice before Banin garroted him.
No.
The shots caused the crash, so they must have been fired after Andrev's strangulation as Leo fled the scene.
Some third party must have picked up the weapon and fired at Leo's motorcycle as it sped away.
Shots went wide, but they caused him to swerve and crash.
Is Joan up to speed on all this? She's gone with Detective Bell to visit the Good Widow Banin and explain the true circumstances of her husband's death.
So, the man whose body you found, you believe he was trying to hurt Leo? Him and a partner, yeah.
We have reason to believe that they were part of the same organization your husband used to work for.
This idea that Leo killed someone right before it's been so hard to live with.
I tried to pray for his soul, but your partner turned out to be right.
I couldn't forgive Leo for abandoning our faith.
But now you say it was self-defense.
It's a relief.
Dr.
Hawes, anything to report? The garrote wound is exactly as thick as the cuts on Leo Banin's hands.
Wire from earphone buds, if I had to guess.
And? The initial toxicology report came back.
It's interesting-- the deceased was on a carefully managed mixture of anti-anxiety and heart meds.
Thing is, you don't just take a handful of fluoxetine and a few ACE inhibitors and hope for the best.
These are medications that can only coexist in a delicate balance.
Are you saying that Mr.
Andrev must have had a psychiatrist? Figured you might want to track him or her down, see if they know any of the names of the people he worked with-- any luck, maybe you'll even find your shooter.
Sorry, Dr.
Glassman is still on a call.
He may be a while.
He understands we are part of a police investigation, right? Dr.
Glassman's office.
Are you sure this is the doctor that wrote the fluoxetine scrip for Grigori Andrev? Captain Gregson sent men to Andrev's home.
I'm told that Dr.
Glassman's name was clearly legible on his pill bottles.
Oh.
I'm supposed to meet Jen.
I'm gonna have to reschedule now.
You spoke to her? About you? No.
This is not the kind of news you break over the phone.
He may have died, you know.
Tony.
Knowing him, it was something quite heroic.
Excuse me, I'm sorry, but Dr.
Glassman has an appointment with a patient in five minutes.
Maybe you could come back in an hour? No, I'm afraid I cannot; I will be dead by then.
What? I've been feeling a bit down; I'm thinking of taking my own life posthaste.
Ms.
Watson here is beside herself about it.
Does that window open? I'm required by law to take you back to see the doctor if you make a threat like that.
But you already knew that, didn't you? Mr.
Holmes, is it? You're a police consultant? Mm-hmm.
This is my partner, Joan Watson, and I'm pleased to say she's just successfully treated my depression.
Oh, that's wonderful news.
That means that you can leave now.
I apologize for lying, but time is of the essence.
We are in pursuit of a member of a dangerous criminal syndicate, the Rukovskaya Bratva.
You treated one of them: Grigori Andrev.
You're smart enough to know that threatening suicide would get you in here; you're certainly smart enough to know that doctor-patient confidentiality prevents me from discussing Any living patients, yes, we know.
But this one is dead.
Strangled by a male nurse he was attempting to assassinate.
What? Surely you're well acquainted with Mr.
Andrev's sociopathy.
You must have half expected this day to come.
Dr.
Glassman, we know that you treated him.
Your name is on the fluoxetine scrip.
You have an obligation to waive privilege when there is legitimate concern about a client's criminal activity.
I'm-I'm sorry.
I, uh I didn't want to treat Grigori.
He just showed up one day and said he had problems.
When I realized what he was and who he worked for, I-I was just too afraid to cut ties.
He was very careful about what he said here.
He didn't discuss any of the particulars about his work.
But there was one name that-that just came up multiple times.
Um, Marko Zubkov.
I gathered that he was Grigori's right hand for certain jobs.
You guys squared away around back? We're just questioning the guy, right? Is all of this really necessary? Well, you saw his sheet: extortion, racketeering, three unsolved disappearances.
Marko Zubkov deserves the full treatment.
He's what we call a "bad guy".
I don't know why you're complaining.
You make it work.
Sasha Zubkov? NYPD.
We're here for Marko.
Marko, you look cozy.
Can I see that hand? What is this? It's a murder investigation.
A man you knew as Vitaly Andropov.
Where were you three nights ago? Sunday night? I'd rather not relive it.
You're gonna have to.
If not here, then at the station.
Impossible.
The doctors say I'm not supposed to walk.
What doctors? The ones who operated on me.
You wanted to know where I was Sunday night? I was in a hospital.
Because Saturday night I was mugged by a guy with a knife.
I lunged for the bastard, he stabbed me twice.
If you don't believe me, please call the hospital.
They'll tell you.
I was there the whole time.
How did it go at the hospital? Well, Zubkov's story checks out.
Three nights ago, he limped into the E.
R.
with two stab wounds to his leg and a tourniquet tied just below his groin to stop some serious bleeding from his femoral.
Claimed he was mugged.
What about the police report? There was not much to it.
Cops who came took a statement and a couple of pictures of the wound.
Zubkov didn't check out until last night.
How's it going here? There are over 70 men with Bratva ties in the NYPD's photo manager system.
Those are only the ones who've been arrested.
The real number of Bratva men in the tristate area would be difficult to approximate.
The man who shot at Leo the night of his deadly accident might not even be here.
Okay, that is depressing enough for me.
I'm gonna go to bed.
Have you given any more thought to the "dead Tony" idea? Okay, that is not an idea.
That is just another lie.
While I detest nothing more than willful ignorance, I have come to believe that in certain matters, ignorance bestowed can be a gift.
Your friend Jan-- she seemed like a nice person.
She deserves neither shame nor heartbreak.
Okay, first of all, her name is Jen, not Jan.
And regarding shame and heartbreak, you should have thought of that a year ago.
You're quite certain someone with Zubkov's injuries couldn't have snuck out of the hospital for just a few hours? Not without starting up the bleeding again and not without being seen.
Wouldn't be the first person to sneak undetected from a hospital-- I've done it myself.
Yeah.
Well, you have never had injuries like that.
Mm.
This is the tourniquet? Yeah.
Probably saved his life.
We've been operating under a misconception.
I think it's possible that the attack on Leo was not the first attempt the Bratva made on his life, but the second.
If I'm right I may also know who shot at him that night.
Thank you for waiting, Mrs.
Banin-- I know you've been here quite a while.
I owe you more than patience.
Your officers have been very kind to me.
They said you had some questions.
We do.
All right.
Is this a man? Obviously it is a man.
Good.
Does he have a nose? Yes.
Excellent.
I don't understand.
Who was that? Why did you show me his picture? Oh, come on, you know Marko Zubkov.
You saved his life when he tried to kill your husband.
Do you recognize that? It's the tourniquet you tied around Marko's leg after Leo stabbed it.
You know how we know? Because of the fabric.
It's the same as the drapes in your living room.
We've been wondering how the Bratva found Leo after so many years in hiding; turns out the answer was right in front of us-- you told them where he was.
You let Mr.
Zubkov into your home before you left the other day, so he could lie in wait.
This was Saturday, before the accident.
Only Leo turned out to be quite formidable, didn't he? He was much more than Mr.
Zubkov could handle, even with the element of surprise.
Leo fought him off, stabbed him in the leg, and fled.
You came home, expecting to find a dead husband.
Instead, you find a mobster bleeding to death on your floor.
The tourniquet you rigged up from your drapes saved his life, so congrats.
You told us your husband called you shortly before he died, only it wasn't to tell you that he loved you-- it was to tell you that he'd been attacked, it wasn't safe, and to meet him in Far Rockaway.
So you hatched a plan with Grigori Andrev.
He would get there first, lie in wait, you would meet with Leo, you distract him, so that Andrev could attack him.
Must have shocked you to see your husband in action, dispensing with Andrev.
Shocked and scared you, 'cause now he knows that you're in on it.
So you don't have a choice.
As Leo flees you picked up Andrev's gun.
You missed, but the shots fired were enough to cause the crash and kill an innocent woman.
This is an outrage.
I loved my husband.
That man out there-- I've never seen him before in my life.
Right.
So you won't mind that he just saw you looking at a picture of him, nodding in the affirmative to questions posed by the police.
Why are you doing this to me? Why do you try to get me in trouble? The reason we had you waiting so long this morning is because we needed time to search your home.
We got a warrant-- we found the evidence for the attack on your husband.
Bullet holes in your wall and bloodstains on your carpet.
You covered the bullet holes up with pictures, but the bloodstains, you missed a bit.
No.
If what you say is true, there was an attack, these men, these mobsters, they cleaned it.
Oh, I'm sorry, they hung new stuff on your walls and you didn't notice? You can either keep lying to us, or you give us Zubkov.
You don't, we're gonna let you both go, and we're just gonna build our case.
You can take your chances with the Bratva on the outside.
Leo had his secrets, but I knew enough; I forgave.
That's what we are taught to do.
But not him.
He couldn't forgive when he found out what brought me to the church.
I needed money when I was young.
I did movies.
To pay to come to America, I had to.
One of his friends, he saw these films, and then it was over.
Leo asked me for a divorce.
We put every penny into that nursing home, and now he's going to leave? And I will have nothing? No.
I knew there was a price on his head, so I made the call.
Hi.
Hey.
Sherlock told me everything.
Wha? H-He came to see you? Earlier today.
He apologized, and he made it very clear that you had no idea what he'd done until the other day.
I was really impressed, by they way-- the way you tracked him down, finding that footage Jen, I know that you thought he was the one, but No, no, no, Joan, it's okay.
Seriously.
I-I appreciate you getting to the bottom of it, but I I have closure now.
It happened again.
You slept with him.
What? No.
Yes.
You are such a terrible liar! Okay, I guess this is what I get, being friends with a detective.
He just was so sweet about everything and making sure that things were right between you and me and telling the truth And getting in your pants.
Actually I came on to him.
But here's the good news.
Now I know it was totally superficial.
That guy is completely out of my system.
Well, you were right, Watson.
Honesty-- unquestionably the best policy.
I want you to know I think it's really great, you doing what you did today for Jen, so she can finally have a baby-- I don't think I've ever seen her so happy.
She did tell you she was ovulating, right? I almost had you.
Yes, almost.