Castle s03e04 Episode Script
Punked
There are two kinds of folks who sit around thinking about how to kill people: psychopaths and mystery writers.
I'm the kind that pays better.
Who am I? I'm Rick Castle.
Castle.
Castle.
I really am ruggedly handsome, aren't I? Every writer needs inspiration and I found mine.
I'm Detective Kate Beckett.
Beckett.
Beckett? Could you get some backup, please? And thanks to my friendship with the mayor, I get to be on her case.
Do I look like a killer to you? Yes, you kill my patience.
And together we catch killers.
I hate this case.
I know.
Isn't it great? I have delicately placed one graham cracker, exactly six marshmallows atop a perfectly melted chocolate bar.
In an omelet, darling? Really? Not an omelet.
- A s'more-let.
- Uh-huh.
- Care for one? - No, thank you! What about you, sweetheart? Are you ready for your taste buds to be launched into breakfast nirvana? Sure, thanks.
Is it okay if my friend Ashley comes over tonight? Yes, of course.
Now eat.
- Are there marshmallows in this? - Yes.
- And chocolate? - Yes.
That's the point.
It's a s'more-let.
Uh.
I gotta go.
Love you! Love you! Bye, honey.
Mmm! This is almost as good as my chocolate mousse chimichanga.
Ah-ha! I knew you'd reconsider! It's kind of like David Hasselhoff.
At first you're repulsed, but then strangely, you're drawn in.
No, still repulsed.
Bye! What's up with Alexis? She seems a little out of it.
Isn't it obvious? - What? - Oh, she's in love.
Alexis? Oh, come on, darling.
In case you haven't noticed, she's not a little girl anymore.
Thank you, Mother.
I think if Alexis were in love, she would've told me.
Uh-uh.
The fact that she hasn't told you, is how we know it's real.
- Mother? - Okay.
And the fact that she mentioned it to me last night.
Who is he? Where did she meet him? I don't know! She wouldn't say.
No! Diva's honor, she didn't tell me anything.
She didn't even tell me his name.
I can't believe she told you and not me.
I'm supposed to be her go-to guy.
Oh, darling! Of course, you are! It's just, you know, it's first love.
It's magical, ethereal.
It defies logic.
- Richard, your phone? - Mmm.
Uh! Beckett.
Maybe it's a nice murder, darling.
Brighten your day.
Good boy.
Castle.
When Alexis took her first steps, I was there to catch her when she fell.
The first time she rode her bike without training wheels, I was the maniac chasing her down the street, screaming for her to watch out for the old lady with the walker.
Even her first word Let me guess? "Daddy"? - No, it was "denouement.
" - Oh.
I stressed story structure from an early age.
Anyway I'm afraid that this is the beginning of the end of our special thing.
You know, I wouldn't worry, Castle.
I mean, I've seen the way that she looks at you.
Your real problem is that girls who adore their daddies, usually end up marrying guys just like them.
- They do? - Dr.
Parish! Good morning.
Got an ID? Not yet.
How come you guys never bring me coffee? I'm here before you, doing all the work.
You can have the rest of mine.
Actually, I don't drink coffee, but would it kill you to bring me a bear claw? Speaking of killing Single GSW to the chest.
Large caliber.
Probably a.
45.
Lividity suggests time of death around midnight.
Hey.
I have those boxers.
Thomas Nash.
Very pricey British brand.
Amazingly soft.
They're silk.
Just saying, he was probably very comfortable when he was shot and killed.
So what was this guy doing out here practically naked at midnight? Don't bother with any of your perverted theories, Castle.
I found fibers in the bullet hole.
Which means he was wearing clothes when he was shot.
That doesn't make any sense.
The killer shot him, and then hung around to take his bloody clothes off him? Well, maybe the killer was worried that there was forensic evidence on the clothes that would connect them.
Yo, Uni found this wallet out in a garbage can near Fifth.
Photo on the license matches Captain Underpants here.
Sorry, my nephew loves those books.
Daniel Goldstein, 25.
Lives in SoHo.
Yeah, he's also got a work ID for Berman Rose down on Wall Street.
So he lived downtown and he worked downtown.
What was he doing way up here? - Let's take this down to the lab.
- Right.
So, I wear boxers.
What do you wear? Thongs? Cheekies? I told you mine.
Bloomers? Granny panties? Commando? His clothes were taken? Why would anyone take his clothes? We don't know, Miss Goldstein.
Can you tell us what your brother might have been doing in the park? That late? I have no idea.
Well, the place where Daniel was found is known for drug activity.
Was he using? No, he barely even drank.
Did he have any enemies or conflicts that you know of? No, no.
Look, none of this makes any sense.
It's just, it's not like him.
Our parents both died in a car accident when he was 12, and since then, he's always been so cautious.
What about dating? Was there anyone special in his life? He wished, but no.
He barely had a social life, or social skills.
I mean, he was such a sweetheart, but a dork, you know? And he was always at work anyway.
At Berman Rose.
What did he do for them? He created financial products.
He was this incredible math genius.
Got his PhD from MIT.
I thought for sure he'd be a professor or something, but these hedge funds, they hire guys like him.
They pay them obscene amounts of money.
Twenty-five years old, he bought my apartment for me.
Excuse me.
What's up? Lab got a fingerprint off our vic's wallet.
Anyone good? Uh.
Awaiting court dates on three aggravated assault cases in the past month, Mr.
D'André.
You inflicted dozens of broken bones, gouged out one of your victim's eyes, bit off part of an ear of another one.
Sounds like committing murder was inevitable.
I'm just curious, why did you take his clothes? Wasn't me.
Well, then why were your fingerprints on a dead man's wallet? Did he just happen to drop it and you politely picked it up for him? And why did my detectives find this unregistered.
45 in your apartment, which just happens to match the size of the bullet hole in my victim? Hey.
If you're so innocent, Mr.
D'André, why did you resist arrest and try to put one of my detectives through a wall? You know, the right turtleneck, and no one's even gonna notice, bro.
Maybe a scarf.
Ow! Why don't you just confess to the truth? It's gonna come out sooner or later.
He was already dead.
With a wallet lying conveniently next to him? Look, if you're not going to admit to it, you might at least want to try coming up with a story that's a little more convincing.
It's what happened! Like you weren't scared.
I want this guy to fry, Beckett.
- Ow.
- Oh, he will.
As soon as Lanie confirms that that bullet is a.
45.
It's not a.
45.
Are you sure? I'm positive.
- Thirty-eight? - Nope.
It's not a.
44, or.
357, or.
22, or.
9 mm, or any other kind of bullet I've ever seen.
So, it's a new kind of bullet? Oh, no, not new at all.
Check it out.
It's round.
See that white coating? Yeah.
What is it? Oxidation? Lead oxide, to be exact.
Rust? Yep.
Based on the amount of it, I'd say that bullet is 200 years old.
Two-hundred-year-old bullet can only mean one thing.
Time-traveling killer! Ergo, the killer could have entered present time through a time ripple, killed Goldstein, and then gone back through the time ripple.
Which means we just have to find the time ripple.
Could you please stop saying "time ripple"? Yeah.
Sounds kind of dirty, doesn't it? But if the ripple closed, time machine! We need a time machine.
Well, in this century, we still haven't ruled out our big buddy, Mr.
D'André.
Yeah, he just doesn't seem like the time travel type to me.
Can't be a time-traveling killer.
Bullet had 200 years of rust on it.
If the killer had been a time traveler, bullet would have been brand new.
Unless time travel causes rust.
On your brain.
Have you followed up with the victim's sister regarding the antique bullet? Yep.
She has no clue about antique bullets or guns, but there's somebody who does.
Abe Sandrich.
Antique weapons expert you requested.
Reminds me I'm starving.
I like.
45's.
Catch the right angle, this sucker could take your head clean off, but it's not the gun you're looking for.
Why's that? Barrel would've had to be modified.
This one's factory-fresh.
Do you think D'André the Giant was telling the truth when he said he found the wallet in the grass? Well, the killer did take Goldstein's clothes, so it's possible that the wallet might've fallen out when he left the crime scene.
What kind of a pistol would've fired that bullet? We usually just call 'em lead balls.
For obvious reasons.
I'd say a whole lot of 18th century flintlocks.
Too many brands to even speculate.
You'll need to find the actual pistol to match it to this lead ball.
And how many people would own that kind of antique pistol? Hard to say.
They're considered collectibles, so they don't have to be registered.
Making it pretty smart to kill someone with one.
Oh, yeah.
Guns may be old, but they got plenty of killing left in 'em.
So, is D'André our guy? I'm afraid not.
What? Why did he go all Hulk Hogan on me? Well, why did the scorpion sting the frog? It's his nature.
Yeah, well, D'André'll be seeing nature from behind bars from now on for assaulting an officer I'll see he gets the max, Detective.
Thank you, Captain.
You know, you can take a couple days if you like? Catch some movies.
- Read Naked Heat.
- No.
No need, sir.
Still no luck with the clothes.
Unis looked in every garbage can within a five block radius of the park.
What is so special about these clothes that our killer would take them? Maybe the killer came through the time ripple naked and needed the clothes.
Like in The Terminator.
Sadly, I don't have a better theory at this point.
So, the question is, what did a Wall Street number-cruncher like Goldstein get himself into? Castle and I'll go to his firm.
You guys see if you can track down any antique gun enthusiasts on social media sites or local clubs.
Maybe someone from Goldstein's life'll pop.
You got it.
You know, I just don't get how someone could shoot Goldstein, steal his clothes, and then not hang onto his wallet.
Just doesn't make any sense.
No.
Maybe giant moths killed him and ate his clothes.
Could be.
Hey! Castle, if this case is boring for you, you don't have to stay.
No, I'm just checking my e-mail and my texts to see if Alexis called.
I can't believe she told my mother she's in love and is holding out on me.
- Oh.
- I'm gonna call her.
No, no.
You have to let her tell you in her own time when she's ready.
I'm the cool dad.
Why can't she be ready? Wait.
Listen to me.
My dad tried to do the same thing when I was her age and I ended up dating a grunge rocker who smelled like wet flannel and clove cigarettes, for seven months.
You do not mess with a teenage girl and her hormones.
You're right.
I won't call her.
Did you say something about a giant moth? No.
In his underwear? Danny's been working for me for two years, but, I just don't know what he'd have been up to in the park.
He wasn't exactly the outdoors type.
What about antique guns, Mr.
Murphy? Do you know anything about them? Antiques? No.
No, he wasn't into guns at all.
Well, I understand that he worked long hours.
Do you know when he left last night? Yeah, right around 9:30.
- Hey! Let me help you with that.
- Thanks.
This is Julia Foster, Danny's assistant.
This is Detective Beckett and Richard Castle.
- Hi.
- Hi.
Were you here last night when Goldstein left? Of course.
Any idea where he was heading? No.
He just said good night.
And what about during the day? Was there anything out of the ordinary? Any strange phone calls? No, just the usual unhappy investor.
Although Although what? The Lower Tide Fund.
What's that? It was one of the financial products Daniel created for us.
A synthetic CDO-cubed.
English? A really big bet that prices would return to historical norms.
So what happened? It tanked.
Hundreds of millions of dollars were lost overnight.
When was this? Three months ago.
There must've been a lot of angry investors.
We fielded scores of less than complimentary messages from clients.
More like apoplectic.
And a lot of them blamed Danny.
All right, well, I'll need a copy of all of these messages and a list of anyone who lost their money in the fund.
Any luck connecting antique gun owners to investors in Goldstein's failed fund, Detectives? Nah.
So far I've seen a lot of cool, old guns on these social media sites for antique gun lovers, but none of the owners pop in Goldstein's life.
Irwin "Quick Draw" Finkelstein.
Proud owner of a Remington Outlaw, made in 1875.
Now that's a great-looking gun.
Check it out, Esposito.
Yeah, that's nice.
See, back then, they were into the artistry of it all.
Yeah, they're like little sculptures that can kill.
Well, this list of Lower Tide Fund investors? They all lost more than a million bucks a piece.
A million dollars? If I had that kind of scratch, I'd put it in something safe.
Like my mattress.
Check it out.
Ivan "Yosemite Sam" Podofski.
Wait a minute.
Ivan Podofski? Yeah.
What you got? Boom.
Looks like we have a winner.
You're right.
He does kind of look like Yosemite Sam.
On a bad hair day.
Yeah, well, in addition to having an antique gun collection, Mr.
Podofski here lost more than four million bucks in our vic's Lower Tide Fund.
He also left this message for Goldstein the day the fund flat-lined.
They had a way of handling folks like you in the old country, Goldstein.
It's called a firing squad! You think he offered him a blindfold and a cigarette? They had a way of handling folks like you in the old country, Goldstein.
It's called a firing squad! I think some context is in order.
I had only just lost four million dollars.
Yes, and in that context, you threatened to kill Mr.
Goldstein and then he was killed.
Where were you last night between 11:00 and 1:00? Asleep in my bed.
- And can anyone vouch for that? - Me.
Myself and I got your back, too? Okay.
Look, I know how this appears, but I think there is an explanation.
Fire away.
Several months ago, I had a consultation at Berman Rose.
When I mentioned my guns, Goldstein asked if I knew how he could get a hold of a Sherlock Holmes gun.
So you're pointing the finger at Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? I'm saying that Goldstein clearly had an interest in antique guns.
Maybe that interest got him killed.
If you're so confident that Goldstein got mixed up with someone else, I'm sure you won't mind submitting your collection for testing with Ballistics.
These are antiques, Detective.
Would you prefer being arrested for murder? Ballistics is taking possession of Podofski's guns.
They should have preliminary results by tomorrow.
They never prefer to be arrested for murder.
All right, keep at it.
Yeah.
Yo, just got a hit from Goldstein's car from Traffic Enforcement.
Parking ticket from last night.
- No way.
- What? - This has got to be a joke.
- What are you talking about, Castle? Goldstein drives a DeLorean.
The car used as a time machine in Back to the Future.
There's no way that's a coincidence.
The ticket was written at two in the morning.
That's post-mortem.
Car should still be there.
Yeah.
East 82nd between Lex and 3rd.
That's a few blocks from the park.
Yeah, but if you're gonna park illegally, why not park closer? Because he was going somewhere on that block.
Three more parking tickets in the last several months, all on 82nd between Lex and 3rd.
So he was going somewhere regularly on that block.
Maybe a girlfriend? Unless you think that's where that time ripple is.
Could be.
Look into it.
Pick that car up.
Gotcha.
Gotta be kidding me.
Ha! Well, it's definitely Goldstein's car.
Or time machine.
Yep.
If I'm not mistaken, that's a flux capacitor in there.
And that is the reactor core.
Maybe Castle was right.
Goldstein came back to the future and he got whacked, huh? - Why'd he keep coming here? - I don't know.
Maybe there's something in the car that'll help.
Hope so.
A lot of doors to knock on.
Patty, I got a vic's car that needs towing.
It's at 238 East 82nd.
It's an '81 to '82 DeLorean.
New York plates, J-L-D Hey, Javi! Let me call you back.
Excuse us, sir.
I'm Detective Ryan, this is Detective Esposito.
Do you mind if we ask you a few questions? Ah! Top of the morning to you, constables! Lord Henry, at your service.
Uh, thanks.
Do you mind telling us where you got those clothes? Not at all, dear boy.
I picked them up at the haberdashery across the park.
Well, gentlemen, if that is all, I shall bid you good day.
Just a second, pal.
You know, we think those clothes might've been involved I said, good day! - Sir, we need you to come down - Good day! Whoa, whoa! No! Hey! Ah! You all right, bro? I'm fine.
Unhand me, you rogue! All right, thank you, Ryan.
How's Esposito? At home, resting.
So, our Lord Henry's story checks out.
Ryan found a matching ascot in a garbage can where Henry said that he found the clothes.
Our guy might be unstable, but he's not our killer.
So why was Goldstein wearing this costume? Well, it's Victorian, antique.
Kind of fits with the whole time-traveler theory, don't you think? I don't know what to think, but the plot thickens.
Forensics back on the clothes? Between the garbage can and our homeless guy, there was quite a list of gross-out substances, of which I will spare you the details, but I did find something interesting on the right-hand glove and the right sleeve of the shirt.
Potassium nitrate and sulfur.
Gunshot residue? So Goldstein did not go quietly into the night.
He had a gun.
And he fired back.
I got something here.
Beckett! Another antique.
Looks exactly like the one that killed Goldstein.
Yes, it does.
Let's say that our killer Let's say that our killer was standing over here.
Goldstein was killed all the way over there.
Nice flat area between them.
What are you getting at, Castle? Some kind of game? Not a game.
Goldstein was wearing formal, turn-of-the-century clothes.
He shot an antique bullet identical to the one he was killed with.
Probably fired from an identical gun.
Four, five, six, seven.
Lanie said he was killed at about midnight? St.
James Church is right over there.
Thanks.
On Madison.
I bet they could hear the bells chiming all the way from over here.
Ha! They stood at about 40 paces from one another.
Wasn't a game.
This was an old-fashion duel.
- Who dares besmirch - God! Don't shoot! my honor It's okay, Ashley.
He's not going to shoot you.
What the heck, Dad? I might be asking you the same Ashley? This is Ashley? Ash, this is my dad, Rick.
And I have no idea why he's waving a gun.
So nice to meet you, Mr.
Castle.
You too, Ashley.
And I have a perfectly good reason why I'm waving a gun.
Excuse us.
Explain yourself.
I got this gun for research for a case.
Which you might know if you had checked in with me today.
What's that supposed to mean? Let's just say one of us has nothing to hide.
Perhaps you'd like to explain yourself? What? That I was kissing a boy? Is that a problem? You tell me.
Dad, the only reason I invited Ashley over tonight was so you could meet him.
Yes, well me meeting Ashley has smeared the lip gloss all over your face.
I really should be going.
You can stay, Ashley.
Oh, the gun.
My bad.
Please, Ashley, stay.
- You can check out the gun.
- No, thanks.
Call me later? Yeah.
If it's okay with your gun? Dad.
Yeah, it's okay with me.
Thank you.
And I just want you to know how much I respect Alexis.
I mean, you don't have to worry about issues of respect.
She's probably the most respectable person I know.
And I respect you, too.
It's good to know that.
Thank you.
I like him.
He's respectful.
Got it.
Thanks.
- Hey.
- Hey.
So, lvan Podofski's antique gun collection all cleared ballistics.
Well, at least some guy in Ballistics had fun firing them off.
I also checked with Goldstein's sister and coworkers.
None of them know anything about duels or Victorian clothes or what Goldstein was doing on East 82nd.
Sounds like he had a secret life.
That somehow led to a duel.
Maybe he figured someone besmirched his honor.
Maybe it was about a girl.
As a matter of fact, Alexis, her new boyfriend, who has a girl's name, by the way, he thought I was going to shoot him last night.
Hey.
- Hey.
How's Esposito? He's sleeping in.
Mostly because he can't move.
Did you figure out what Goldstein was doing on East 82nd? No, but get this.
I'm going through Goldstein's car, and I find a pile of receipts he must've been planning to submit for reimbursement.
One of them is from three weeks ago at a café.
On it, he wrote, "Coffee with Troy Kenworth.
" And that name kind of rings a bell.
One of the angry Lower Tide Fund investors? No.
But his father, Charles Kenworth, was.
Guy loses two million bucks.
And then he loses his house, his marriage.
And then two months ago, he killed himself.
- Did Troy have any priors? - Yeah.
More like afters.
After his father committed suicide, he was charged with assault in four separate bar fights.
Revenge! Oldest motive for murder in the book.
Maybe Troy thought someone besmirched his father's honor.
And then he forced Goldstein to settle the score.
Yeah, I was the one who found his body.
The report says that he used a shotgun.
Hey.
Why aren't you in there? Beckett's doing a mothering thing.
Wanted to limit the testosterone in the room.
I can't imagine walking in on that.
Yeah.
Pretty messy.
I try not to think about it.
I understand.
But since then, Mr.
Kenworth, you have charges pending in four assault cases.
I started drinking too much, lashed out.
But those were just random people at bars.
I mean, they weren't even responsible for your father's suicide.
But Goldstein He put your father in the fund that lost him all of his money.
I could understand blaming him.
I did.
But then I talked to him, and he said that he warned Pop to diversify.
And the fact is, Dad and Mom had been having problems for years.
When we lost the house and I had to drop out of school, it was the last straw.
And Mom left him.
That's what pushed him over the edge.
And ever since his death, Mom had been struggling to make payments on our apartment.
Is that why you went to go and see Goldstein three weeks ago? Look, I wanted to find out if any money was left in the account.
And what did Goldstein tell you? The truth.
All the money's gone.
That must have made you pretty angry.
Okay, I know what you're getting at.
But that meeting is what turned me around.
I haven't had a drink since.
Mom and I have been able to stay in our place.
I might even go back to school next semester.
All because Danny is a stand-up guy and he gave me a job.
That's where I was the night he got killed.
At Berman Rose? No.
What kind of a job did Danny give you? I can't say.
Look, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement, okay? I can be fired.
Or you could be arrested.
Is this job on 82nd between Lex and 3rd? What was the exact number of pounds that Mr.
Fogg bet that he could travel around the world in 80 days? - Twenty thousand.
- Correct, sir.
Name the volcano that led to the center of the earth.
Oh! I want to say NYPD.
Open the damn door.
Hello! - Where are we? Victorian London.
When are we? What is this place? Gaslamp.
A private steampunk society.
Straight ahead, is our club president, Owen Peterson.
He's on the penny-farthing.
All right then.
It's that time machine from Time And Away.
I love that movie.
Owen.
Give us a poem.
Steampunk? It's a subculture that embraces the simplicity and romance of the past, and at the same time couples it with the hope and promise and sheer super-coolness of futuristic design.
You're cloned, you say? There are more of you? Well, the more the merrier, to ewes all I'll be true! - Excuse me, Mr.
Peterson.
I'm - Can I try that? I don't know what to tell you, Detective.
We all heard about Danny yesterday.
It's hard to believe.
We saw him here the night before.
Well, the way you and your friends were yucking it up makes me feel like you weren't so upset.
We're just romantics, Detective.
Look at the world, don't like what we see.
So we recreate it here.
An oasis where human potential and ingenuity is limitless.
Where there's poetry and wonder and meaning, even in death.
What time did he leave that night? Around 11:30.
- Did he tell you what he was doing? - No.
He went to the park for a duel.
What do you mean, a duel? The kind where people shoot at each other.
They were using antique guns.
Do you know anything about that? Dueling pistols.
With lead balls with white coating.
This has been fired recently.
They're just for show.
Adam, stop! Stop! Out of the way.
Get out of the way! I think he's going for the time machine! It's just a bunch of interviews, I don't know why you didn't take the whole day off.
Because I'm fine! Pardon me.
Stop him! Hey, Esposito! How's your neck? Yeah, I shot him.
He just kind of crumpled over backwards.
But I thought he was kidding.
I jogged over, expecting him to jump up any second.
But he was just lying there, so still.
And then I saw the blood.
And I hear Julia.
She's on her knees screaming, "No, please, God, no!" I freaked out and we took his clothes and I just ran.
Julia? You mean Goldstein's assistant? He was in love with her.
Had they been seeing each other a long time? No.
No, Dan just kissed her once a couple weeks ago out at a bar.
But she wasn't interested in him.
So you were involved with her? Not really involved.
But, Dan caught us fooling around in my office late one night last week.
And you couldn't think of a better way of settling this other than a duel? We just thought it'd be funny.
And Danny swore that we couldn't get hurt.
Shooting at each other? He ran all these complex equations.
He said, said that at 40 paces, there was no chance that we could actually hit each other.
Something about 18th Century guns having no rifling in the barrel.
So if you couldn't kill each other, what was the point of the duel? To impress Julia.
She would never get serious with geeks like us.
But we figured that maybe if she saw us duel over her, then Maybe that one of us could Julia confirmed that she was the only other person present at the duel.
No one else knew.
All right, let her go.
How do you point the gun at someone and shoot and not expect to kill them? Well, they were blinded by the romance of it all.
And Goldstein did the math.
Well, between this and the Lower Tide Fund, maybe he's not such a genius.
Maybe he's just unlucky.
Well, then I've got a problem because I have to make a recommendation to the DA between murder and manslaughter.
The difference being life in prison or just a couple of years.
I mean, are antique guns really so inaccurate? Only one way to find out.
That's your target! That's my target! Shoot your target! Manslaughter, it is.
Yeah.
Hey, Dad.
Hey! There's my girl.
Come here.
Come here.
Sorry, hang on.
There.
There you go.
Hey, about last night - It was unexpected.
- Yeah.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, too.
I should have told you Ashley was a boy.
Oh, why spoil the surprise? So, I have a question for you.
But it's a little embarrassing.
Ooh! - I love when you embarrass yourself.
- Dad.
Well, hey, listen.
You can ask me whatever you want.
And I promise I'll do my best to make it as un-embarrassing as possible.
How do you know when you're in love? I know it's an emotion, a feeling, and you can't exactly define.
Like, technically, how you know when you're feeling it, but since I've never felt it before, how do I know what I'm feeling is even it at all? Except, of course, for the fact that I'm feeling all these things I've never felt before.
Like in my stomach and my throat and even kind of in my ears.
I mean, which just has to mean that it's love, right? Considering I only feel them when I'm with Ashley or thinking about him? I mean, that's gotta be love, right? 'Cause I'm feeling all these things I've read about in poems and heard about in songs but never completely understood.
But now I do! I understand, and I'm listening to all this music and reading all this poetry in a completely new and glorious light, which I just think has to mean that it's love.
What do you think? I can't stop thinking about him, Daddy.
I don't even want to because he's just the greatest, sweetest, most adorable guy and his nose crinkles when he laughs and I'm just so happy.
Thanks, Dad.
I love you.
I feel so much better now.
I'm glad we had that talk.
Beckett.
How do you know when you're in love? All the songs make sense.
Adam Murphy didn't kill Goldstein.
But he confessed.
And I believe that he believes he did it.
But he didn't.
Do tell.
It bothered me that we couldn't hit the target at the shooting range.
And so I ran ballistics on the dueling pistols.
The bullet that hit Daniel Goldstein didn't match either one of them.
Adam couldn't have killed him.
You're talking full-on, grassy knoll, conspiracy theory? Not theory.
Fact.
There was a third shooter and that's our killer.
Hey, Beckett! Did you find Adam Murphy's bullet? Lead ball.
Yup! He didn't kill Goldstein, but he did kill Squirrelstein.
What are the odds, huh? Oh, no! They took his clothes, too! Could you? Aw! - Yeah, I know.
I'm sorry.
Okay, so we know that Goldstein was standing right over here.
Facing Adam, who's right over there.
Right.
And if our killer wanted to shoot him without either of them seeing him, he would be standing right over There, by that clump of trees.
Detective, I've got clothing fibers.
This thread look familiar? Oh, I'd recognize that burgundy velvet anywhere.
Kind of says "steampunk," doesn't it? Matter of fact, I think I know the murder weapon.
Volcano in Journey to the Center of the Earth.
Sneffels! Castle.
Couldn't stay away, huh? Can I get you guys something? Sure, Troy.
We're looking for a shooter.
Actually, I think we already found one.
Nice uniform, by the way.
We found your father's shotgun.
We know that you modified it in order to shoot antique lead ball bullets.
What are you talking about? Adam Murphy already confessed, right? Turns out Adam Murphy couldn't have done it.
It's a sciencey, ballistics thing.
It was pretty clever firing your father's shotgun at the exact moment that Adam and Goldstein fired their guns.
Making Adam believe that he was the one that killed Goldstein, right as the church bells chimed midnight.
Isn't that right? Seeing him in here every night in that ridiculous outfit, just throwing around all that money.
Why should he get to live like that when my dad's dead? Knowing that our shooter was a staff member at the club led us straight back to Troy.
He overheard Goldstein and Murphy planning the duel and took his opportunity.
And then Troy's alibi fell apart as soon as we started interviewing other staff members who couldn't remember seeing him there half an hour before or after the duel.
Dueling over a girl.
Avenging the death of a loved one.
Cuts to the heart of romance.
And the tragedy.
Speaking of tragedy, did you hear about Detective Esposito? No, what about him? Oh! He Oh! God, no! Dude.
What happened? - Esposito! - No.
I don't want to hear it.
No.
I'm okay.
Hey! No, I really am fine, bro.
- We got this stuff from storage.
- You should have seen your faces! Captain, you really sold that.
"Speaking of tragedy, did you hear about Detective Esposito?" - Hey.
- Sir.
- That was good.
- I'm not really that fine.
- Oh, yeah, let me just Sorry.
- Neck brace, please.
Neck brace.
- Just lock it down, lock it.
- Yeah, yeah.
Kate! Josh.
What are you doing here? Oh, I got your text.
You mean the text where I said I was gonna pick you up? Yeah, I was nearby.
Well, Josh, this Captain Montgomery, Richard Castle, Detectives Esposito and Ryan.
- Hey, boys.
Boys? - Catch any bad guys today? - Every day.
- You all set? - Yeah.
Let me just get my stuff.
Okay.
So, you and Beckett? Mmm.
What about us? You tell me.
You're the writer! Yeah! Yeah.
And you are? Kate hasn't told you about me, has she? What's to tell? Hey, you ready to go? Yeah.
I'll see you around.
Bye, guys.
Later.
Just you? Yes.
Thanks for that talk last night.
I feel so much better.
Hey, you can always talk to me.
Or at me.
Yeah.
Being in love is exhausting.
Yeah, you got that right.
You okay, Dad? You seem distracted.
What are you talking about? You have my undivided attention.
Good.
Because I want to go on a date tonight.
How's that sound? Of course.
Great! Have a good time! I meant with you, Dad.
You'll always be my go-to guy.
Did Gram put you up to this? I have no idea what you're talking about.
Pity date.
I'll take it.
You're a terrible liar.
I'm the kind that pays better.
Who am I? I'm Rick Castle.
Castle.
Castle.
I really am ruggedly handsome, aren't I? Every writer needs inspiration and I found mine.
I'm Detective Kate Beckett.
Beckett.
Beckett? Could you get some backup, please? And thanks to my friendship with the mayor, I get to be on her case.
Do I look like a killer to you? Yes, you kill my patience.
And together we catch killers.
I hate this case.
I know.
Isn't it great? I have delicately placed one graham cracker, exactly six marshmallows atop a perfectly melted chocolate bar.
In an omelet, darling? Really? Not an omelet.
- A s'more-let.
- Uh-huh.
- Care for one? - No, thank you! What about you, sweetheart? Are you ready for your taste buds to be launched into breakfast nirvana? Sure, thanks.
Is it okay if my friend Ashley comes over tonight? Yes, of course.
Now eat.
- Are there marshmallows in this? - Yes.
- And chocolate? - Yes.
That's the point.
It's a s'more-let.
Uh.
I gotta go.
Love you! Love you! Bye, honey.
Mmm! This is almost as good as my chocolate mousse chimichanga.
Ah-ha! I knew you'd reconsider! It's kind of like David Hasselhoff.
At first you're repulsed, but then strangely, you're drawn in.
No, still repulsed.
Bye! What's up with Alexis? She seems a little out of it.
Isn't it obvious? - What? - Oh, she's in love.
Alexis? Oh, come on, darling.
In case you haven't noticed, she's not a little girl anymore.
Thank you, Mother.
I think if Alexis were in love, she would've told me.
Uh-uh.
The fact that she hasn't told you, is how we know it's real.
- Mother? - Okay.
And the fact that she mentioned it to me last night.
Who is he? Where did she meet him? I don't know! She wouldn't say.
No! Diva's honor, she didn't tell me anything.
She didn't even tell me his name.
I can't believe she told you and not me.
I'm supposed to be her go-to guy.
Oh, darling! Of course, you are! It's just, you know, it's first love.
It's magical, ethereal.
It defies logic.
- Richard, your phone? - Mmm.
Uh! Beckett.
Maybe it's a nice murder, darling.
Brighten your day.
Good boy.
Castle.
When Alexis took her first steps, I was there to catch her when she fell.
The first time she rode her bike without training wheels, I was the maniac chasing her down the street, screaming for her to watch out for the old lady with the walker.
Even her first word Let me guess? "Daddy"? - No, it was "denouement.
" - Oh.
I stressed story structure from an early age.
Anyway I'm afraid that this is the beginning of the end of our special thing.
You know, I wouldn't worry, Castle.
I mean, I've seen the way that she looks at you.
Your real problem is that girls who adore their daddies, usually end up marrying guys just like them.
- They do? - Dr.
Parish! Good morning.
Got an ID? Not yet.
How come you guys never bring me coffee? I'm here before you, doing all the work.
You can have the rest of mine.
Actually, I don't drink coffee, but would it kill you to bring me a bear claw? Speaking of killing Single GSW to the chest.
Large caliber.
Probably a.
45.
Lividity suggests time of death around midnight.
Hey.
I have those boxers.
Thomas Nash.
Very pricey British brand.
Amazingly soft.
They're silk.
Just saying, he was probably very comfortable when he was shot and killed.
So what was this guy doing out here practically naked at midnight? Don't bother with any of your perverted theories, Castle.
I found fibers in the bullet hole.
Which means he was wearing clothes when he was shot.
That doesn't make any sense.
The killer shot him, and then hung around to take his bloody clothes off him? Well, maybe the killer was worried that there was forensic evidence on the clothes that would connect them.
Yo, Uni found this wallet out in a garbage can near Fifth.
Photo on the license matches Captain Underpants here.
Sorry, my nephew loves those books.
Daniel Goldstein, 25.
Lives in SoHo.
Yeah, he's also got a work ID for Berman Rose down on Wall Street.
So he lived downtown and he worked downtown.
What was he doing way up here? - Let's take this down to the lab.
- Right.
So, I wear boxers.
What do you wear? Thongs? Cheekies? I told you mine.
Bloomers? Granny panties? Commando? His clothes were taken? Why would anyone take his clothes? We don't know, Miss Goldstein.
Can you tell us what your brother might have been doing in the park? That late? I have no idea.
Well, the place where Daniel was found is known for drug activity.
Was he using? No, he barely even drank.
Did he have any enemies or conflicts that you know of? No, no.
Look, none of this makes any sense.
It's just, it's not like him.
Our parents both died in a car accident when he was 12, and since then, he's always been so cautious.
What about dating? Was there anyone special in his life? He wished, but no.
He barely had a social life, or social skills.
I mean, he was such a sweetheart, but a dork, you know? And he was always at work anyway.
At Berman Rose.
What did he do for them? He created financial products.
He was this incredible math genius.
Got his PhD from MIT.
I thought for sure he'd be a professor or something, but these hedge funds, they hire guys like him.
They pay them obscene amounts of money.
Twenty-five years old, he bought my apartment for me.
Excuse me.
What's up? Lab got a fingerprint off our vic's wallet.
Anyone good? Uh.
Awaiting court dates on three aggravated assault cases in the past month, Mr.
D'André.
You inflicted dozens of broken bones, gouged out one of your victim's eyes, bit off part of an ear of another one.
Sounds like committing murder was inevitable.
I'm just curious, why did you take his clothes? Wasn't me.
Well, then why were your fingerprints on a dead man's wallet? Did he just happen to drop it and you politely picked it up for him? And why did my detectives find this unregistered.
45 in your apartment, which just happens to match the size of the bullet hole in my victim? Hey.
If you're so innocent, Mr.
D'André, why did you resist arrest and try to put one of my detectives through a wall? You know, the right turtleneck, and no one's even gonna notice, bro.
Maybe a scarf.
Ow! Why don't you just confess to the truth? It's gonna come out sooner or later.
He was already dead.
With a wallet lying conveniently next to him? Look, if you're not going to admit to it, you might at least want to try coming up with a story that's a little more convincing.
It's what happened! Like you weren't scared.
I want this guy to fry, Beckett.
- Ow.
- Oh, he will.
As soon as Lanie confirms that that bullet is a.
45.
It's not a.
45.
Are you sure? I'm positive.
- Thirty-eight? - Nope.
It's not a.
44, or.
357, or.
22, or.
9 mm, or any other kind of bullet I've ever seen.
So, it's a new kind of bullet? Oh, no, not new at all.
Check it out.
It's round.
See that white coating? Yeah.
What is it? Oxidation? Lead oxide, to be exact.
Rust? Yep.
Based on the amount of it, I'd say that bullet is 200 years old.
Two-hundred-year-old bullet can only mean one thing.
Time-traveling killer! Ergo, the killer could have entered present time through a time ripple, killed Goldstein, and then gone back through the time ripple.
Which means we just have to find the time ripple.
Could you please stop saying "time ripple"? Yeah.
Sounds kind of dirty, doesn't it? But if the ripple closed, time machine! We need a time machine.
Well, in this century, we still haven't ruled out our big buddy, Mr.
D'André.
Yeah, he just doesn't seem like the time travel type to me.
Can't be a time-traveling killer.
Bullet had 200 years of rust on it.
If the killer had been a time traveler, bullet would have been brand new.
Unless time travel causes rust.
On your brain.
Have you followed up with the victim's sister regarding the antique bullet? Yep.
She has no clue about antique bullets or guns, but there's somebody who does.
Abe Sandrich.
Antique weapons expert you requested.
Reminds me I'm starving.
I like.
45's.
Catch the right angle, this sucker could take your head clean off, but it's not the gun you're looking for.
Why's that? Barrel would've had to be modified.
This one's factory-fresh.
Do you think D'André the Giant was telling the truth when he said he found the wallet in the grass? Well, the killer did take Goldstein's clothes, so it's possible that the wallet might've fallen out when he left the crime scene.
What kind of a pistol would've fired that bullet? We usually just call 'em lead balls.
For obvious reasons.
I'd say a whole lot of 18th century flintlocks.
Too many brands to even speculate.
You'll need to find the actual pistol to match it to this lead ball.
And how many people would own that kind of antique pistol? Hard to say.
They're considered collectibles, so they don't have to be registered.
Making it pretty smart to kill someone with one.
Oh, yeah.
Guns may be old, but they got plenty of killing left in 'em.
So, is D'André our guy? I'm afraid not.
What? Why did he go all Hulk Hogan on me? Well, why did the scorpion sting the frog? It's his nature.
Yeah, well, D'André'll be seeing nature from behind bars from now on for assaulting an officer I'll see he gets the max, Detective.
Thank you, Captain.
You know, you can take a couple days if you like? Catch some movies.
- Read Naked Heat.
- No.
No need, sir.
Still no luck with the clothes.
Unis looked in every garbage can within a five block radius of the park.
What is so special about these clothes that our killer would take them? Maybe the killer came through the time ripple naked and needed the clothes.
Like in The Terminator.
Sadly, I don't have a better theory at this point.
So, the question is, what did a Wall Street number-cruncher like Goldstein get himself into? Castle and I'll go to his firm.
You guys see if you can track down any antique gun enthusiasts on social media sites or local clubs.
Maybe someone from Goldstein's life'll pop.
You got it.
You know, I just don't get how someone could shoot Goldstein, steal his clothes, and then not hang onto his wallet.
Just doesn't make any sense.
No.
Maybe giant moths killed him and ate his clothes.
Could be.
Hey! Castle, if this case is boring for you, you don't have to stay.
No, I'm just checking my e-mail and my texts to see if Alexis called.
I can't believe she told my mother she's in love and is holding out on me.
- Oh.
- I'm gonna call her.
No, no.
You have to let her tell you in her own time when she's ready.
I'm the cool dad.
Why can't she be ready? Wait.
Listen to me.
My dad tried to do the same thing when I was her age and I ended up dating a grunge rocker who smelled like wet flannel and clove cigarettes, for seven months.
You do not mess with a teenage girl and her hormones.
You're right.
I won't call her.
Did you say something about a giant moth? No.
In his underwear? Danny's been working for me for two years, but, I just don't know what he'd have been up to in the park.
He wasn't exactly the outdoors type.
What about antique guns, Mr.
Murphy? Do you know anything about them? Antiques? No.
No, he wasn't into guns at all.
Well, I understand that he worked long hours.
Do you know when he left last night? Yeah, right around 9:30.
- Hey! Let me help you with that.
- Thanks.
This is Julia Foster, Danny's assistant.
This is Detective Beckett and Richard Castle.
- Hi.
- Hi.
Were you here last night when Goldstein left? Of course.
Any idea where he was heading? No.
He just said good night.
And what about during the day? Was there anything out of the ordinary? Any strange phone calls? No, just the usual unhappy investor.
Although Although what? The Lower Tide Fund.
What's that? It was one of the financial products Daniel created for us.
A synthetic CDO-cubed.
English? A really big bet that prices would return to historical norms.
So what happened? It tanked.
Hundreds of millions of dollars were lost overnight.
When was this? Three months ago.
There must've been a lot of angry investors.
We fielded scores of less than complimentary messages from clients.
More like apoplectic.
And a lot of them blamed Danny.
All right, well, I'll need a copy of all of these messages and a list of anyone who lost their money in the fund.
Any luck connecting antique gun owners to investors in Goldstein's failed fund, Detectives? Nah.
So far I've seen a lot of cool, old guns on these social media sites for antique gun lovers, but none of the owners pop in Goldstein's life.
Irwin "Quick Draw" Finkelstein.
Proud owner of a Remington Outlaw, made in 1875.
Now that's a great-looking gun.
Check it out, Esposito.
Yeah, that's nice.
See, back then, they were into the artistry of it all.
Yeah, they're like little sculptures that can kill.
Well, this list of Lower Tide Fund investors? They all lost more than a million bucks a piece.
A million dollars? If I had that kind of scratch, I'd put it in something safe.
Like my mattress.
Check it out.
Ivan "Yosemite Sam" Podofski.
Wait a minute.
Ivan Podofski? Yeah.
What you got? Boom.
Looks like we have a winner.
You're right.
He does kind of look like Yosemite Sam.
On a bad hair day.
Yeah, well, in addition to having an antique gun collection, Mr.
Podofski here lost more than four million bucks in our vic's Lower Tide Fund.
He also left this message for Goldstein the day the fund flat-lined.
They had a way of handling folks like you in the old country, Goldstein.
It's called a firing squad! You think he offered him a blindfold and a cigarette? They had a way of handling folks like you in the old country, Goldstein.
It's called a firing squad! I think some context is in order.
I had only just lost four million dollars.
Yes, and in that context, you threatened to kill Mr.
Goldstein and then he was killed.
Where were you last night between 11:00 and 1:00? Asleep in my bed.
- And can anyone vouch for that? - Me.
Myself and I got your back, too? Okay.
Look, I know how this appears, but I think there is an explanation.
Fire away.
Several months ago, I had a consultation at Berman Rose.
When I mentioned my guns, Goldstein asked if I knew how he could get a hold of a Sherlock Holmes gun.
So you're pointing the finger at Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? I'm saying that Goldstein clearly had an interest in antique guns.
Maybe that interest got him killed.
If you're so confident that Goldstein got mixed up with someone else, I'm sure you won't mind submitting your collection for testing with Ballistics.
These are antiques, Detective.
Would you prefer being arrested for murder? Ballistics is taking possession of Podofski's guns.
They should have preliminary results by tomorrow.
They never prefer to be arrested for murder.
All right, keep at it.
Yeah.
Yo, just got a hit from Goldstein's car from Traffic Enforcement.
Parking ticket from last night.
- No way.
- What? - This has got to be a joke.
- What are you talking about, Castle? Goldstein drives a DeLorean.
The car used as a time machine in Back to the Future.
There's no way that's a coincidence.
The ticket was written at two in the morning.
That's post-mortem.
Car should still be there.
Yeah.
East 82nd between Lex and 3rd.
That's a few blocks from the park.
Yeah, but if you're gonna park illegally, why not park closer? Because he was going somewhere on that block.
Three more parking tickets in the last several months, all on 82nd between Lex and 3rd.
So he was going somewhere regularly on that block.
Maybe a girlfriend? Unless you think that's where that time ripple is.
Could be.
Look into it.
Pick that car up.
Gotcha.
Gotta be kidding me.
Ha! Well, it's definitely Goldstein's car.
Or time machine.
Yep.
If I'm not mistaken, that's a flux capacitor in there.
And that is the reactor core.
Maybe Castle was right.
Goldstein came back to the future and he got whacked, huh? - Why'd he keep coming here? - I don't know.
Maybe there's something in the car that'll help.
Hope so.
A lot of doors to knock on.
Patty, I got a vic's car that needs towing.
It's at 238 East 82nd.
It's an '81 to '82 DeLorean.
New York plates, J-L-D Hey, Javi! Let me call you back.
Excuse us, sir.
I'm Detective Ryan, this is Detective Esposito.
Do you mind if we ask you a few questions? Ah! Top of the morning to you, constables! Lord Henry, at your service.
Uh, thanks.
Do you mind telling us where you got those clothes? Not at all, dear boy.
I picked them up at the haberdashery across the park.
Well, gentlemen, if that is all, I shall bid you good day.
Just a second, pal.
You know, we think those clothes might've been involved I said, good day! - Sir, we need you to come down - Good day! Whoa, whoa! No! Hey! Ah! You all right, bro? I'm fine.
Unhand me, you rogue! All right, thank you, Ryan.
How's Esposito? At home, resting.
So, our Lord Henry's story checks out.
Ryan found a matching ascot in a garbage can where Henry said that he found the clothes.
Our guy might be unstable, but he's not our killer.
So why was Goldstein wearing this costume? Well, it's Victorian, antique.
Kind of fits with the whole time-traveler theory, don't you think? I don't know what to think, but the plot thickens.
Forensics back on the clothes? Between the garbage can and our homeless guy, there was quite a list of gross-out substances, of which I will spare you the details, but I did find something interesting on the right-hand glove and the right sleeve of the shirt.
Potassium nitrate and sulfur.
Gunshot residue? So Goldstein did not go quietly into the night.
He had a gun.
And he fired back.
I got something here.
Beckett! Another antique.
Looks exactly like the one that killed Goldstein.
Yes, it does.
Let's say that our killer Let's say that our killer was standing over here.
Goldstein was killed all the way over there.
Nice flat area between them.
What are you getting at, Castle? Some kind of game? Not a game.
Goldstein was wearing formal, turn-of-the-century clothes.
He shot an antique bullet identical to the one he was killed with.
Probably fired from an identical gun.
Four, five, six, seven.
Lanie said he was killed at about midnight? St.
James Church is right over there.
Thanks.
On Madison.
I bet they could hear the bells chiming all the way from over here.
Ha! They stood at about 40 paces from one another.
Wasn't a game.
This was an old-fashion duel.
- Who dares besmirch - God! Don't shoot! my honor It's okay, Ashley.
He's not going to shoot you.
What the heck, Dad? I might be asking you the same Ashley? This is Ashley? Ash, this is my dad, Rick.
And I have no idea why he's waving a gun.
So nice to meet you, Mr.
Castle.
You too, Ashley.
And I have a perfectly good reason why I'm waving a gun.
Excuse us.
Explain yourself.
I got this gun for research for a case.
Which you might know if you had checked in with me today.
What's that supposed to mean? Let's just say one of us has nothing to hide.
Perhaps you'd like to explain yourself? What? That I was kissing a boy? Is that a problem? You tell me.
Dad, the only reason I invited Ashley over tonight was so you could meet him.
Yes, well me meeting Ashley has smeared the lip gloss all over your face.
I really should be going.
You can stay, Ashley.
Oh, the gun.
My bad.
Please, Ashley, stay.
- You can check out the gun.
- No, thanks.
Call me later? Yeah.
If it's okay with your gun? Dad.
Yeah, it's okay with me.
Thank you.
And I just want you to know how much I respect Alexis.
I mean, you don't have to worry about issues of respect.
She's probably the most respectable person I know.
And I respect you, too.
It's good to know that.
Thank you.
I like him.
He's respectful.
Got it.
Thanks.
- Hey.
- Hey.
So, lvan Podofski's antique gun collection all cleared ballistics.
Well, at least some guy in Ballistics had fun firing them off.
I also checked with Goldstein's sister and coworkers.
None of them know anything about duels or Victorian clothes or what Goldstein was doing on East 82nd.
Sounds like he had a secret life.
That somehow led to a duel.
Maybe he figured someone besmirched his honor.
Maybe it was about a girl.
As a matter of fact, Alexis, her new boyfriend, who has a girl's name, by the way, he thought I was going to shoot him last night.
Hey.
- Hey.
How's Esposito? He's sleeping in.
Mostly because he can't move.
Did you figure out what Goldstein was doing on East 82nd? No, but get this.
I'm going through Goldstein's car, and I find a pile of receipts he must've been planning to submit for reimbursement.
One of them is from three weeks ago at a café.
On it, he wrote, "Coffee with Troy Kenworth.
" And that name kind of rings a bell.
One of the angry Lower Tide Fund investors? No.
But his father, Charles Kenworth, was.
Guy loses two million bucks.
And then he loses his house, his marriage.
And then two months ago, he killed himself.
- Did Troy have any priors? - Yeah.
More like afters.
After his father committed suicide, he was charged with assault in four separate bar fights.
Revenge! Oldest motive for murder in the book.
Maybe Troy thought someone besmirched his father's honor.
And then he forced Goldstein to settle the score.
Yeah, I was the one who found his body.
The report says that he used a shotgun.
Hey.
Why aren't you in there? Beckett's doing a mothering thing.
Wanted to limit the testosterone in the room.
I can't imagine walking in on that.
Yeah.
Pretty messy.
I try not to think about it.
I understand.
But since then, Mr.
Kenworth, you have charges pending in four assault cases.
I started drinking too much, lashed out.
But those were just random people at bars.
I mean, they weren't even responsible for your father's suicide.
But Goldstein He put your father in the fund that lost him all of his money.
I could understand blaming him.
I did.
But then I talked to him, and he said that he warned Pop to diversify.
And the fact is, Dad and Mom had been having problems for years.
When we lost the house and I had to drop out of school, it was the last straw.
And Mom left him.
That's what pushed him over the edge.
And ever since his death, Mom had been struggling to make payments on our apartment.
Is that why you went to go and see Goldstein three weeks ago? Look, I wanted to find out if any money was left in the account.
And what did Goldstein tell you? The truth.
All the money's gone.
That must have made you pretty angry.
Okay, I know what you're getting at.
But that meeting is what turned me around.
I haven't had a drink since.
Mom and I have been able to stay in our place.
I might even go back to school next semester.
All because Danny is a stand-up guy and he gave me a job.
That's where I was the night he got killed.
At Berman Rose? No.
What kind of a job did Danny give you? I can't say.
Look, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement, okay? I can be fired.
Or you could be arrested.
Is this job on 82nd between Lex and 3rd? What was the exact number of pounds that Mr.
Fogg bet that he could travel around the world in 80 days? - Twenty thousand.
- Correct, sir.
Name the volcano that led to the center of the earth.
Oh! I want to say NYPD.
Open the damn door.
Hello! - Where are we? Victorian London.
When are we? What is this place? Gaslamp.
A private steampunk society.
Straight ahead, is our club president, Owen Peterson.
He's on the penny-farthing.
All right then.
It's that time machine from Time And Away.
I love that movie.
Owen.
Give us a poem.
Steampunk? It's a subculture that embraces the simplicity and romance of the past, and at the same time couples it with the hope and promise and sheer super-coolness of futuristic design.
You're cloned, you say? There are more of you? Well, the more the merrier, to ewes all I'll be true! - Excuse me, Mr.
Peterson.
I'm - Can I try that? I don't know what to tell you, Detective.
We all heard about Danny yesterday.
It's hard to believe.
We saw him here the night before.
Well, the way you and your friends were yucking it up makes me feel like you weren't so upset.
We're just romantics, Detective.
Look at the world, don't like what we see.
So we recreate it here.
An oasis where human potential and ingenuity is limitless.
Where there's poetry and wonder and meaning, even in death.
What time did he leave that night? Around 11:30.
- Did he tell you what he was doing? - No.
He went to the park for a duel.
What do you mean, a duel? The kind where people shoot at each other.
They were using antique guns.
Do you know anything about that? Dueling pistols.
With lead balls with white coating.
This has been fired recently.
They're just for show.
Adam, stop! Stop! Out of the way.
Get out of the way! I think he's going for the time machine! It's just a bunch of interviews, I don't know why you didn't take the whole day off.
Because I'm fine! Pardon me.
Stop him! Hey, Esposito! How's your neck? Yeah, I shot him.
He just kind of crumpled over backwards.
But I thought he was kidding.
I jogged over, expecting him to jump up any second.
But he was just lying there, so still.
And then I saw the blood.
And I hear Julia.
She's on her knees screaming, "No, please, God, no!" I freaked out and we took his clothes and I just ran.
Julia? You mean Goldstein's assistant? He was in love with her.
Had they been seeing each other a long time? No.
No, Dan just kissed her once a couple weeks ago out at a bar.
But she wasn't interested in him.
So you were involved with her? Not really involved.
But, Dan caught us fooling around in my office late one night last week.
And you couldn't think of a better way of settling this other than a duel? We just thought it'd be funny.
And Danny swore that we couldn't get hurt.
Shooting at each other? He ran all these complex equations.
He said, said that at 40 paces, there was no chance that we could actually hit each other.
Something about 18th Century guns having no rifling in the barrel.
So if you couldn't kill each other, what was the point of the duel? To impress Julia.
She would never get serious with geeks like us.
But we figured that maybe if she saw us duel over her, then Maybe that one of us could Julia confirmed that she was the only other person present at the duel.
No one else knew.
All right, let her go.
How do you point the gun at someone and shoot and not expect to kill them? Well, they were blinded by the romance of it all.
And Goldstein did the math.
Well, between this and the Lower Tide Fund, maybe he's not such a genius.
Maybe he's just unlucky.
Well, then I've got a problem because I have to make a recommendation to the DA between murder and manslaughter.
The difference being life in prison or just a couple of years.
I mean, are antique guns really so inaccurate? Only one way to find out.
That's your target! That's my target! Shoot your target! Manslaughter, it is.
Yeah.
Hey, Dad.
Hey! There's my girl.
Come here.
Come here.
Sorry, hang on.
There.
There you go.
Hey, about last night - It was unexpected.
- Yeah.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, too.
I should have told you Ashley was a boy.
Oh, why spoil the surprise? So, I have a question for you.
But it's a little embarrassing.
Ooh! - I love when you embarrass yourself.
- Dad.
Well, hey, listen.
You can ask me whatever you want.
And I promise I'll do my best to make it as un-embarrassing as possible.
How do you know when you're in love? I know it's an emotion, a feeling, and you can't exactly define.
Like, technically, how you know when you're feeling it, but since I've never felt it before, how do I know what I'm feeling is even it at all? Except, of course, for the fact that I'm feeling all these things I've never felt before.
Like in my stomach and my throat and even kind of in my ears.
I mean, which just has to mean that it's love, right? Considering I only feel them when I'm with Ashley or thinking about him? I mean, that's gotta be love, right? 'Cause I'm feeling all these things I've read about in poems and heard about in songs but never completely understood.
But now I do! I understand, and I'm listening to all this music and reading all this poetry in a completely new and glorious light, which I just think has to mean that it's love.
What do you think? I can't stop thinking about him, Daddy.
I don't even want to because he's just the greatest, sweetest, most adorable guy and his nose crinkles when he laughs and I'm just so happy.
Thanks, Dad.
I love you.
I feel so much better now.
I'm glad we had that talk.
Beckett.
How do you know when you're in love? All the songs make sense.
Adam Murphy didn't kill Goldstein.
But he confessed.
And I believe that he believes he did it.
But he didn't.
Do tell.
It bothered me that we couldn't hit the target at the shooting range.
And so I ran ballistics on the dueling pistols.
The bullet that hit Daniel Goldstein didn't match either one of them.
Adam couldn't have killed him.
You're talking full-on, grassy knoll, conspiracy theory? Not theory.
Fact.
There was a third shooter and that's our killer.
Hey, Beckett! Did you find Adam Murphy's bullet? Lead ball.
Yup! He didn't kill Goldstein, but he did kill Squirrelstein.
What are the odds, huh? Oh, no! They took his clothes, too! Could you? Aw! - Yeah, I know.
I'm sorry.
Okay, so we know that Goldstein was standing right over here.
Facing Adam, who's right over there.
Right.
And if our killer wanted to shoot him without either of them seeing him, he would be standing right over There, by that clump of trees.
Detective, I've got clothing fibers.
This thread look familiar? Oh, I'd recognize that burgundy velvet anywhere.
Kind of says "steampunk," doesn't it? Matter of fact, I think I know the murder weapon.
Volcano in Journey to the Center of the Earth.
Sneffels! Castle.
Couldn't stay away, huh? Can I get you guys something? Sure, Troy.
We're looking for a shooter.
Actually, I think we already found one.
Nice uniform, by the way.
We found your father's shotgun.
We know that you modified it in order to shoot antique lead ball bullets.
What are you talking about? Adam Murphy already confessed, right? Turns out Adam Murphy couldn't have done it.
It's a sciencey, ballistics thing.
It was pretty clever firing your father's shotgun at the exact moment that Adam and Goldstein fired their guns.
Making Adam believe that he was the one that killed Goldstein, right as the church bells chimed midnight.
Isn't that right? Seeing him in here every night in that ridiculous outfit, just throwing around all that money.
Why should he get to live like that when my dad's dead? Knowing that our shooter was a staff member at the club led us straight back to Troy.
He overheard Goldstein and Murphy planning the duel and took his opportunity.
And then Troy's alibi fell apart as soon as we started interviewing other staff members who couldn't remember seeing him there half an hour before or after the duel.
Dueling over a girl.
Avenging the death of a loved one.
Cuts to the heart of romance.
And the tragedy.
Speaking of tragedy, did you hear about Detective Esposito? No, what about him? Oh! He Oh! God, no! Dude.
What happened? - Esposito! - No.
I don't want to hear it.
No.
I'm okay.
Hey! No, I really am fine, bro.
- We got this stuff from storage.
- You should have seen your faces! Captain, you really sold that.
"Speaking of tragedy, did you hear about Detective Esposito?" - Hey.
- Sir.
- That was good.
- I'm not really that fine.
- Oh, yeah, let me just Sorry.
- Neck brace, please.
Neck brace.
- Just lock it down, lock it.
- Yeah, yeah.
Kate! Josh.
What are you doing here? Oh, I got your text.
You mean the text where I said I was gonna pick you up? Yeah, I was nearby.
Well, Josh, this Captain Montgomery, Richard Castle, Detectives Esposito and Ryan.
- Hey, boys.
Boys? - Catch any bad guys today? - Every day.
- You all set? - Yeah.
Let me just get my stuff.
Okay.
So, you and Beckett? Mmm.
What about us? You tell me.
You're the writer! Yeah! Yeah.
And you are? Kate hasn't told you about me, has she? What's to tell? Hey, you ready to go? Yeah.
I'll see you around.
Bye, guys.
Later.
Just you? Yes.
Thanks for that talk last night.
I feel so much better.
Hey, you can always talk to me.
Or at me.
Yeah.
Being in love is exhausting.
Yeah, you got that right.
You okay, Dad? You seem distracted.
What are you talking about? You have my undivided attention.
Good.
Because I want to go on a date tonight.
How's that sound? Of course.
Great! Have a good time! I meant with you, Dad.
You'll always be my go-to guy.
Did Gram put you up to this? I have no idea what you're talking about.
Pity date.
I'll take it.
You're a terrible liar.