Bones s03e09 Episode Script
The Santa in the Slush
God, I can't deal with any more kids poking at me.
At least you get the kids.
I get their dads.
Letches all want me to sit on their laps.
I don't much care for the way Santa is gawking at you either.
Don't do that.
You're too pretty to smoke.
Next you're going to tell me, it'll stunt my growth.
Be nice now, it's Christmas.
- What's that smell? - What do you want? It's the back of a mall.
I have a very sensitive nose.
Don't walk.
Why are you walking? Let's just sit.
It's coming from over here.
There's something.
Probably old hot dogs or a dead cat.
No, no, no, don't touch.
Let me.
Jail's not too bad.
I get meals with your brother.
We go out on these work details together.
You haven't asked me why I'm strapped in these chains.
Well, you're in jail.
No, I'm in dress rehearsal for a Christmas Carol.
You're Jacob Marley? I wanted to be Scrooge, but some triple homicide in Cell Block H got the part.
You don't want to know how.
What are you gonna do for Christmas? I'm doing what I always do.
I'm going on a trip.
To New York? Peru.
National Geographic found a new step pyramid at an ancient ceremonial site known as El Brujo.
Part of a very mysterious culture called the Moche.
Well, unless they're elves, it's not very Christmassy.
No, they aren't elves.
You know what I'd like? I'd like to spend another Christmas with kids with a family, with a tree.
You're in jail, Dad.
So is Russ.
Mom's dead.
And Christmas is overrated anyway.
People expect it to be so perfect, and it never is.
I'm really looking forward to the skeletons in El Brujo.
Christmas and skeletons do not go together.
I remember the Christmas you and Mom gave me the toolbox.
That was great.
Yeah, except that the toolbox was for Russ.
But you decided that it was yours, and he let you have it.
He did? Yeah.
I hope some day that, uh we can all have Christmas together again.
- I doubt it, Dad.
- Lie to me.
I can pretend.
I've got to go look at a dead person.
You never were any good at sugarcoating anything.
You've got that sad little girl look on your face after you've been with your dad.
No, I don't.
He wishes we could spend Christmas together with Russ.
Do it.
They're both in jail.
It's impossible.
What are your plans? I'm thinking of driving the truck right off the bridge.
I'm being melodramatic and self-pitying.
You love Christmas.
I love it, you know, when I have Parker.
This year, he's going skiing in Vermont with Rebecca and Captain Fantastic.
Who's Captain Fantastic? It's her boyfriend.
Commands a Coast Guard cutter.
His last name isn't literally Fantastic, is it? Might as well be.
You know they have a trailer at the jail.
Mostly for conjugal visits.
Captain Fantastic is in jail? No, your dad.
You could give him what he wants for Christmas.
- Pull a few strings.
- I'm not a string puller.
- I've seen you pull some strings.
- My father is a murderer and a thief.
Murders and thieves they get Christmas, too.
In fact, it's kind of the point.
Well, I have other plans.
Whatever they are, skeletons and Christmas do not mix.
That's exactly what my father said.
Where are we going? Early Christmas present for you, Bones.
Dead guy in the sewer.
Cold enough as it is.
Let's get this done here.
Great.
Had to be Santa.
You'd thinks someone who could squeeze up and down chimneys would find the sewer a snap.
Rats got to him.
Like huge bacterial count, unseasonably warm weather explains why the rats found him so digestible.
He was washed down through the sewer system.
I mean, look at all the stuff that's around him.
Uphill is that way.
Busiest shopping district during the busiest shopping season.
Maybe he worked up there.
Or he was pushed out of a low-flying sleigh.
Cynicism from you at Christmas? - What happened? - Nothing.
Rebecca is taking Parker to Vermont for the holidays.
That sucks majorly.
It does suck majorly.
So what do you say we just get back to our dead Santa here.
He's not Santa, Booth.
He's a dead man in a costume.
Well, the beard looks real and he's pretty fat.
Which doesn't make him Santa.
Well, let's not jump to conclusions.
Aw, three days before Christmas and somebody kills Santa.
Bones S3E09 "The Santa in the Slush" We'll send his gloves to the FBI crime lab, see if they can get any fingerprints from the inside.
Damage here on the left side of the skull suggests a strong blow to the left temporal bone.
So Santa was definitely murdered.
Someone did not like their present.
There's copious insect activity from the sewer.
I'm intrigued that the Santa myth survived so far into modern times.
Children, Dr.
Addy, it's for children.
These duds are not department store issue.
This is real ermine.
It's a hand-tailored suit.
Which I'd like to get off of him after you two finish your scraping and Not that that isn't all very, very important.
What Santa is supposed to do is clearly impossible.
He keeps a list, checks it twice, what's the big deal? If you take into account all believers of the myth, factor in time zones, rotation of the Earth, assume Santa travels east to west he'd have to make approximately 822.
6 visits per second to reach every child.
So Santa parks his sleigh, unloads presents, fills stockings, eats snacks, gets back into his sleigh and is on to the next house in about one-one-thousandth of a second? Children have to be stupid to accept that.
Okay, first of all, children are not stupid, they're just children.
Second, Santa is magic.
Let's identify the victim, shall we? There's an ellipsoid aperture in the mandibular left canine and first premolar, consistent with pipe smoking.
Plus, traces of residue on the canine could this be clay? Santa is often portrayed smoking a clay pipe.
All right, all right, very funny boys.
Come on, where's your holiday spirit? Based on the degree of bloating and purge fluids, I'd estimate time of death between Check the sewer sludge and bugs and give me a confirmation.
Phorid fly maggots, third instar.
And they appear to have been well-fed as well.
Santa was around some other food source before he died.
My bet's on milk and cookies.
This is not Miracle on 34th Street.
We're not saying this is actually Santa Claus.
We're merely anatomizing the evidence.
Okay, it's still rough, but this might help.
Dad wants to spend Christmas with the family.
So how are you going to arrange it, bust me and Dad out? There are trailers for conjugal visits.
We might be able to use one of those.
And I talked to Amy and she said she could bring the girls down to see you.
You shouldn't have done that.
Amy said the girls had been asking about you.
I lied to them, Tempe.
The girls don't even know I'm in here.
They think I went overseas to work.
You're deserting them, just like Dad.
You think it would be better for them to find out that the guy they think is so wonderful is actually a criminal? When I found out Dad was not dead, I was happy - even if it turned out that he was - A murderer? You are not a murderer, Russ.
It doesn't sound like a good Christmas present to me.
- You could explain it - No, Tempe, it's not going to happen.
Can't you sleep on your own couch? I'm just waiting for the squints to find out something.
How'd it go with Russ? He says he doesn't want the girls to come.
Your Dad he wants the whole Christmas package, you know, the tree, the kids, the presents, the whole shebang.
Well, the whole shebang is impossible.
Christmas is about making the impossible happen.
You mean like you spending Christmas with Parker.
Okay, you know what, that hurt.
Wake me up when the squint squad finds out something.
Victim appears to have odd-shaped remodeling on his sacrum, with a sclerotic margin around the injury.
Some kind of old injury? Two small indentations here, consistent with trauma from impact with some sort of cloven-hoof? Cloven, like a reindeer? Oh, thank God you're here.
This is so wasted on me alone.
Evidence is evidence whether anyone is there to hear it or not.
Our victim was kicked by a reindeer.
Oh, get the hell out of here.
The sacrum.
Wait, wait.
The evidence actually adds up to an old fat man with a white beard and a custom-made Santa suit who smoked a clay pipe and got kicked in the ass by a reindeer? FBI lab got partial prints off the gloves and AFIS found a possible match.
Apparently, our victim worked for the school board.
As a teacher? No.
He was a Santa Claus.
A Santa Claus? Or the Santa Claus? Check out his name.
"Kristopher Kringle.
" According to AFIS, it's his legal name.
- There's the old Dutch "Sinterklaas" - Watch out! - I'm looking.
- You're going to get hit by a car.
He had a partner named Black Peter, who carried a whip to beat naughty children.
Myths are traditionally used to control behavior.
For instance, the story of Moses bringing the Ten Commandments You're equating Moses to Santa? Well, Santa is usually considered more jolly, but Okay, great.
We're looking for 223 Hudson.
I'm sorry you can't be with Parker, Booth.
What are you going to do, right? He's got to face the facts sometime.
She shouldn't take him away, not at Christmas.
Not the way he feels about you.
Oh, my God.
What? He lives in a toy store.
Watch out for reindeer.
Really funny.
Parker would love this place.
Look at this! Gingerbread he's got the train.
This might explain the reindeer kick to Kringle's sacrum.
Ha! You got to be kidding me.
Bones, look at this.
This guy was committed.
Or should've been.
Hey, Bones.
Check this out.
Hidden compartment.
Looks like Santa was planning on buying a lot of toys.
Kris rented this place from me for six years.
Do you know where he lived before that? Actually, that wasn't my first question.
He wrote his previous address on the lease.
North Pole? Aw! Come on with that.
It turned out to be a good question.
You actually accepted that address? Are you kidding? How many guys want to live above a toy store? It's noisy.
And Kris gave me first and last month, up front, in cash.
Kris Kringle, from the North Pole, lives above a toy store this is further evidence that our victim is, indeed, the mythic figure known as Santa Claus.
Mythic, coming from the Latin "myth," meaning he doesn't actually exist.
No, from the Greek mythos, meaning "word.
" - He does not - This, right here What can you tell us about Mr.
Kringle's personal finances? Like I said, he always paid cash.
Where did he work? An employment agency called Temp Time, on 7th, by the Convention Center.
- Ha! Couldn't have been Santa.
- Why? Because Santa wouldn't have worked at a temp agency.
Why not? His work is seasonal.
- It doesn't - He wouldn't Kringle pay his rent on time? Always, at least, until the last couple of months.
Really? 'Cause, you know what? Obviously, he wasn't short on funds with all the money we found in the secret compartment of his drawer.
Son of a bitch.
All of this is rumpled, small bills, except for these eight $50 bills.
Brand new, with sequential serial numbers.
I don't know about any of this Did you, uh guys have some kind of a disagreement? Is that why he was holding out on you? No.
No.
No.
Maybe.
Kris gave me some ideas on a toy, which I patented and It sold? Somebody took a picture of TomKat's kid with it, so it sort of took off.
Wow.
Kringle could have sued you for a chunk of that cash.
He never actually told me he wanted a cut.
Maybe he just stopped paying his rent.
Thinking of Parker? No.
- Thinking about your dad? - No.
Russ.
You can't blame him for not wanting those girls to know the truth.
He's living a lie.
You'd never do that.
Well, not never.
I mean, I'd I lie to Parker, especially this time of year.
What about? I tell him that Santa's coming.
Really? It's Santa Claus! The Santa myth is based on blackmail: Be good or you won't get any presents.
No, it's not a lie-lie, Bones.
It's more like everybody agreeing that up to a certain age, kids deserve to live a different kind of truth.
By that reasoning, what we should do is figure out a lie Russ could tell the girls so they wouldn't know he was in jail.
That is a brilliant Christmas idea.
It was intended to be a scathing and incisive comment.
Give Russ civvies, the girls think he's flown in especially to visit his father in jail at Christmas.
Where would we say he's been? Building a bridge in Addis Ababa.
Addis Ababa is the landlocked capital of Ethiopia.
Fine.
You know what? Just make up your own lie.
I don't believe in lying to children.
You just want to go to Peru without feeling guilty.
You need to accept that you won't have Parker this Christmas.
I am no tenjoying this holiday season at all.
Yeah, well, neither am I.
The shadow on the X ray is a slight depression of the outer endocranial table.
Fracture's levered inward.
There are no signs of remodeling.
This localized staining suggests that his superficial temporal artery was punctured.
Very likely the cause of death.
So Santa was conked on the head.
The question is: With what? I'll run it under the scanning electron microscope.
So what are you doing for Christmas? Going home to Michigan.
What about you? Family cruise.
Sounds nice.
You'd think so.
Let me know what you find.
Kris is dead? Afraid so.
Man, I had bad feeling something was wrong.
I mean, it's not like Kris to miss work.
Especially not this time of year.
I called him a hundred times.
Twelve.
Twelve times.
We listened to his answering machine.
There are a lot of Santas here.
Yeah, but Kris was my numero uno.
I mean, all the guys knew that here.
In fact, if it wasn't for him, I never would've thought about getting into the Santa business.
Christmas is not going to be the same without Kris Kringle.
Anthropologically, what exactly would it mean to be a Numero Uno Santa Claus? Well, Kris got the best gigs.
Any of the other Santas They get jealous? Jealous enough to kill? Come on.
Is this about Kris? Did something happen to him? Who are you? I- I'm Jeff Mantell.
What happened to Kris? Kris was murdered.
Everybody! The dead Santa on the news it was Kris.
What can you tell me about Kris? Kris made a guy proud to wear the uniform.
Sure he did! That's the truth.
Was-Was Kris murdered? Um, all the Santas just need to take a step back.
Any help you need, guys, anything at all.
Why are you limping? Oh, my shins.
You want to see them? No Why would I want to see your shins? Children get to a certain age and they think it's hilarious to kick Santa in the shins.
That's I, uh I'd like to talk to anyone who knew Kris personally.
I only met Kris at the diner down the street a couple of weeks ago.
Whoever smells like the wet sweater, really needs to take a step back.
I was out of work, late on my alimony, and the man saved me.
He got me this job.
Sad, but familiar tale with Kris.
Typical Kris.
Always looking to help out.
Anybody know of any trouble? - Or arguments? - Differences of opinion? I can't even imagine that.
No, the man was truly, sincerely jolly.
We couldn't find a record of his bank account.
Oh, well, I cash Kris's checks.
What would Mr.
Kringle do during the three other seasons? Well, Kris was my only full-time, temp Santa.
You know, sometimes for the odd ad campaigns who need a Santa.
Car dealerships, ice cream parlors.
Sometimes hospitals had Christmas in July.
Ironically, the only night Kris wouldn't work was Christmas Eve.
His special night.
His night to deliver toys and goodies around the world.
We'd always tease him about that.
He never denied it.
The maggots in dead Santa's collar fed on high concentrations of non-sulfated chondroitin glycosaminoglycans and N-acetylneuramic acid.
This is why Booth hates talking to you.
It's the regurgitated saliva of male Aerodramus fuciphagus.
Wait, Booth hates talking to me? Not you specifically Lab people.
What's Aerodramus fuciphagus? The main ingredient in Bird's Nest Soup.
It's a rare Chinese delicacy, made from the nests of swiftlets.
It's more like bird spit soup, if you ask me.
So our victim was in China? I'm thinking Chinatown is more likely.
But I also found similar traces of the same stuff on the back of Santa's pants, mostly on the rear end.
He sat in it? Yeah, let's hope that's how it got there.
How common is this dish? A single kilogram of white swiftlet nest cost two grand.
Let's see who makes it here in DC.
Done and done.
These people all seem pretty upset to have lost one of their own.
I mean, they keep referring to "the uniform" like soldiers or cops.
According to Hodgins, Kris Kringle was probably killed in or near a restaurant called "Kum Jug Yuen" up in Chinatown.
- How'd he figure that out? - Do you really want to know? - You tell me.
- No, you don't.
I'm gonna trust you on that.
If you don't mind, I have a meeting with Caroline Julian at your office in ten minutes.
Is it about the trailer for your dad's Christmas? You think she'll help? Caroline's a lawyer She'll help, but she'll ask you to do something in return.
That's fair.
Yeah, hold that thought.
I thought you were going to Brazil for Christmas.
Peru.
Whatever.
It's south of the equator, doing bone things with bone people.
I checked with the people at the jail, and for my father to get the conjugal trailer, the prosecutor in charge of his case has to submit a written recommendation.
You're the prosecutor in charge of his case.
I'm aware of that.
Thank you, Dr.
Brennan.
So will you? You going to Brazil and all, what's the use of Max being in that conjugal trailer all by himself? Well, I'm trying to persuade my brother to celebrate Christmas with his family in there, too.
A yuletide gathering of the Brennan criminal element.
What do you mean "trying"? Russ doesn't want his stepdaughters to know that he's in jail.
How do you persuade them otherwise if they're actually having Christmas in the jail? One other thing, the warden says "no Christmas tree.
" That's right.
Three years ago, somebody made a shiv out of the star.
Now, no trees or ornaments of any kind.
Isn't that a little dreary? Hey, don't kill people, don't get sent to prison, have a Christmas pageant in your own home every year.
So, will you? I will.
You will? Thank you.
On one condition.
Booth said you'd say that.
Did he say I'd ask you to kiss him? No.
Well, are you? No cheeks, no noses, right on the lips.
People kiss people on the nose? I want you to kiss him under some mistletoe.
Kiss Booth? That's right, cherie.
Why? Because it will amuse me.
Why? Because you're all "Dr.
Brennan" and "Special Agent Seeley Booth" and it's Christmas and I have a puckish side that will not be denied.
Puckish? What's the matter? You don't think I can be puckish? I never thought about it until now.
You want me to write that letter, you kiss Booth on the lips, for no less than one-steamboat, two-steamboat five-steamboats.
That's blackmail.
That's correct.
That's unethical.
That's the deal.
Take it or leave it.
What about a tree? No Christmas tree.
No way.
Not even if you squeeze his buttocks.
I don't know.
Couldn't I just take you out to dinner some time? You kiss Seeley Booth on the lips and I'll make sure your daddy has his dream Christmas.
No tree, mind you, but otherwise, as good as an accused murderer can expect.
Look, you ever see this man before? Santa Claus? No, this isn't actually Santa Claus.
The guy that's wearing the Santa outfit in this picture.
Have you ever seen him? Can I see your I.
D.
again, please? - Booth.
- What? Your kid like roaches? Gromphadorhina, man, hissing roach.
Hey, grab me this container? This is a great pet, man.
Perfect Christmas gift.
No.
Did you find the bird's nest maggots yet? Still looking.
Okay, I'm calling the cops.
Whoa, whoa, pal, I am the cops, all right? Any fights out here back in the alley in the past four days? No, I don't come out here since I quit smoking.
It stinks.
It's the cycle of life, my friend.
Quite beautiful if you get into it.
Okay, you go back inside.
But tell the rest of your staff I'll be in in a few minutes to ask them some questions.
Hey, pal, you better hope I don't report this to the health department.
Pay dirt.
Fannia, Musca and Phoridae.
That is the exact maggots I found on Kringle's suit.
It means this is where he was killed.
So if he was killed here then he was probably dragged over here to this grate and dumped down this sewer.
An ignominious end for Father Christmas, huh? Whoa.
Whoa what? They were near the bottom.
No cash, just I.
D.
s and credit.
Probably dumped there by pickpockets.
You found cash in Kringle's apartment, right? Right.
Maybe he picked one pocket too many.
Well, we're going to find out the owners of these wallets, and see if they know any Santa pickpockets.
Booth, help me out of here? See you later.
Oh, come on Vermont is gonna be great, buddy.
Snowboarding.
- Just like when we went to Liberty.
- Mom says better than Liberty.
Well, she's right.
Can't you come? If you tell Mom that I don't want to go, then we could spend Christmas together.
Like we always do.
It's not gonna happen this year, buddy.
When you get back, me and you, we'll have our own Christmas, just the two of us.
Without Captain Fantastic.
We shouldn't call Brent "Captain Fantastic" anymore.
Why? You do.
- Well, I won't anymore.
- But it's funny.
No, it's disrespectful.
And if your mom likes someone, we should respect that and like them, too.
Is that true? You like Brent? Yeah, I do.
Are you going to be all alone at Christmas? Me? No.
I'm not going to be alone.
I'll be with Bones and all our friends.
- I'm going to Peru.
- See? We're all going to Peru.
You're having Christmas in Africa? - Actually, Peru is - Is Africa.
Isn't that right Bones? Okay? I'm going to be just fine.
So come on, go wash up before your mom gets here to pick you up, all right? I love you.
I love you too, buddy.
Go ahead.
You lied a lot to him.
It's the magic of Christmas, Bones.
So you want to tell me what happened? I'd just come out of the check cashing place and I was off to do some Christmas shopping.
When you were mugged by Santa.
Not mugged.
It was just a bump as I was walking out of the place.
I said excuse me, he ho-ho-ho'd, we went our separate ways.
When did you realize your wallet was missing? An hour later at the PriceCo.
I'm in the check-out line, I'm going to pay and it's gone.
Naturally you went back the next day and you beat the crap out of him.
I asked for my wallet back, Santa plays all dumb and then it got physical.
It was 900 bucks, man.
Mr.
Moussa, there are hundreds of Santas in the DC area this time of year.
Come on You and I are trained law enforcement officers.
I got the right guy.
If it was him, he definitely deserved a beating.
It was him.
And he got off lucky, because of my self-control.
This guy, he ruined Christmas.
Egyptians they celebrate Christmas? I am not Muslim, Agent Booth.
I am Coptic.
Me, my wife, my children, we all celebrate Christmas.
Except for maybe not this year because this guy took my money.
And what did you do to him? I hit him.
I'm not proud of that.
No pushing? No tussling? Just popped him once in the schnoz, that's it.
You didn't roll around in the alley? What alley? We were in front of a big box store.
You didn't mean to kill him.
You just shoved him down that manhole.
I- I knocked him down, the people, they don't know why, they don't understand, they're looking, maybe they think I'm a terrorist, so I get out of there.
Right.
Do I need a lawyer? Bones, PayFast Check Cashing confirms cashing Moussa's paycheck.
The teller gave him 900 bucks in all crisp new 50's.
Kringle had new 50's in his dresser.
Yup, and the serial numbers match.
Suggesting Kringle is our pickpocket.
Uh-huh, so we're getting a warrant to analyze Moussa's clothing.
If there's bird soup goop on them, we'll know he's our killer.
What is with the mistletoe? I was going to talk to you about this.
Caroline wants us to kiss under the mistletoe.
What?! It's the only way she'll make Christmas for my family.
By having us kiss? Yes.
Why? - Because she's feeling puckish.
- Puckish? What's that mean? She's gonna be here any second.
Do you want some gum? No, my breath is just fine.
All right, look, I'll have a talk with Caroline.
No.
No? I'm only telling you out of professional courtesy.
- What? - So that you won't be surprised.
When you say kiss, you mean like kiss-kiss? Like on both cheeks? No, the lips.
Like brother and sister, colleagues.
French people meeting on the street.
Caroline's feeling puckish, huh? It means playful and impish.
Congratulations.
I hear you have a suspect in the Santa slaying.
Yeah, looks like the Easter Bunny has nothing to worry about.
Did you talk to the judge about the trailer? Yes, I did.
What about your end? Well, look at that.
Mistletoe.
You take a step to your right you'll be right under that cute little sprig.
Was that enough steamboats? Plenty.
A whole flotilla.
I don't know what that means, but, um Merry Christmas.
It was like kissing my brother.
You sure must like your brother.
She does.
I do.
The trailer is all arranged.
You're good to go, cherie.
Merry Christmas.
I'm sure she feels really foolish right now.
Well, hey, I really should I should get back and see if the forensic guy has got anything yet on Moussa's That's a good idea.
Yeah, I've got stuff to do, too.
The for with bones.
I understand completely.
Thanks for the gum.
How you doing? Some metallic flakes imbedded in the bone.
Trying to help Zack determine what kind of weapon was used.
You know, this is our first Christmas as a couple.
Aw, too bad Santa's dead.
I thought that we could make Christmas decorations for our tree.
Is that too corny? It's what my family did when I was little and I always thought, you know, when I had my own family, that I'd carry on the tradition.
Are two people a family? Isn't that how every family starts? Then I think us making decorations is just corny enough.
I don't understand, has there been some kind of crisis? Yes, I have a crisis.
Bones, it was just mistletoe.
Not the kiss.
That was nothing.
- You kissed? - Mistletoe! That's not the crisis.
Was there tongue? You know what, get your own sex life.
That has nothing to do with sex.
- Nothing.
- No.
There was no It was mistletoe.
Totally sexless.
I'm all ears.
Just take your hat off there.
Booth, who is a very honest person, says that at this time of year, deception is necessary for the happiness of little children.
- I'm being misquoted.
- Booth is absolutely right.
She got the gist.
Yeah, there's a fictional element to Christmas.
You mean the whole "Birth of a Savior" rigmarole? It is not rigmarole.
- How do you know? - Dr.
Brennan.
It's-It's the, uh, feeling of Christmas.
What people call "The Christmas Spirit.
" It's a kind of dream or hope that we carry with us from childhood.
- But as adults - Are you including you in that? As adults, we're imbued by the pragmatic routines of life, which makes difficult for us to regard anything with childlike wonder.
But, you know, it's all right for us to try.
We put on silly hats and drape trees with sparkly lights and wrap gifts in garish paper, and that's good for us.
It's not only all right to allow children the transient experience of innocence and joy, it's our responsibility.
Okay.
Okay? I found that very helpful.
What do you think I've been saying for the past four days? You're going to help me lie to the girls? Apparently, it's not morally wrong to lie at Christmas.
What if they know I'm lying? Apparently, sometimes lying is a kind of gift.
I'm hazy on the rules, but the idea is even if they know you're lying, they know you're doing it out of love.
Where are you getting this? Because, I'm in jail, and I'm getting better advice.
Look, Russ, we have a plan.
I bring you some civilian clothes, the girls think you popped in from Addis Ababa.
Addis Ababa? What did you and Amy tell them? We said I went to Burma.
Burma? Who cares where we chose? Burma's on the other side of the world.
Burma doesn't even exist anymore.
- What happened to it? - It became Myanmar.
There's another problem with the trailer.
No Christmas tree.
Why? Shank material.
- Is it important? - Christmas with no tree? It's a disaster.
Forget it.
They're young, Russ.
They believe in Santa Claus.
They believe in you because you love them, and they'll sit in your lap they'll open their presents and they'll believe in you and Burma and maybe they won't notice that there's no tree.
Look, Amy will be there, Dad will be there, the girls will be there.
And you? I was going to, but we're not the only people getting the trailer ans I thought it would be in the afternoon, but now it's Christmas Eve and I gotta be on that plane.
To Peru? Tempe, Dad wants us all.
You're one of us.
You found what killed Kris Kringle? - We know what it was made of.
- And we know the shape.
Something crescent-shaped and brass? I couldn't find anything this shape, but by making a slight paradigm shift - The paradigm shift was my idea.
- And slightly change the angle A circle, not a crescent.
I believe the mark left on Kris Kringle's skull was the result of being struck with a circular object approximately 15 centimeters in diameter.
Six inches.
A bell.
A brass bell.
Meaning he was probably attacked by another Santa.
Everybody have your bells? Aw, right, right! Enough! Stop! You can tell the elves they can go now.
Elves go for coffee.
See you later.
What's the use of Elves without Santa? - Those bells are all the same.
- Yeah, I buy 'em in bulk.
- I sell them to the Santas for cost.
- Is that Kris's idea? Yeah, how did you know? Just getting a feel for the guy.
We have a warrant here to inspect your bells.
Inspect our what? Bells, Larry.
Uh, why? Agent Booth and I are gonna swab each of your bells with a cotton ball soaked in phenolthalein.
Is it gonna sting? Bells, Larry.
She said bells.
You need a hearing aid, Larry.
Why are they antisepticising our bells? Ho, ho, ho, ho, steady there, Santa.
Why do you need a warrant to disinfect a bell? What's the matter there, Santa? They're looking for something and they're not telling us.
Look, I read the warrant.
It's the law.
Just give him the bell.
so we can go.
- Jeff, just show them the bell.
- Come on, give us your bell.
No.
Listen, buddy, I'm not going to see my son for Christmas this year, so I'm a little annoyed with Christmas and everything that comes along with it.
So give the lady the bell.
Give her the bell.
Come on, go ahead.
Thank you.
The brass plating on this bell is chipped.
Oh, look at that.
Okay, Santa, you're under arrest for murder.
What? This bell is the weapon that killed Kris Kringle.
No.
No, no, no.
I didn't kill Kris.
Come on, guys, we switch bells all the time.
Now that's true.
All of our bells are identical, you know.
We put one down and then we just pick up another.
Okay, just hold on to your bells there for a second.
Any ideas? No.
Come on, think Bones, paint the picture.
It's got to be one of these guys.
I mean, half of these guys owe Kringle the money.
One of them's a pickpocket.
Gets money from the Egyptian.
- Can we go? - Cool your jets, Santa.
Go have a cookie and some egg nog.
Kringle gets suspicious, he catches the pickpocketer dumping the wallet in the Dumpster, confronts him - We have to sniff their behinds.
- We have to sniff - You lost me there.
- Everybody up against the wall! Or, okay, put your hands on the table.
First of all that's my job, and second why? They fought.
They rolled around through the bird's nest soup goop.
- Right.
Good thinking.
That's good.
- Thank you.
Except for the sniffing their butts thing.
You start over there, I'll start here.
Wait, wait, wait.
You're going to sniff my guys? Geez.
All right, this is officially the worst Christmas ever.
Don't you need a warrant for this? - Hey, pal, why don't you just be quiet? - Turn around.
- Bird's nest soup.
- Bird's nest soup.
It's Jeff! He killed Kris! Jeff killed Kris! Are you going to pull them off? Fine.
Watch this.
How do you like it now, Santas? Everybody off.
On your feet.
You're under arrest.
Let's go.
The man is a disgrace to his uniform.
You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout, I'm telling you why Santa Claus is coming to town.
He's fine, Rebecca.
Now just listen.
I will get him back to you in time tomorrow before you leave for Vermont.
I hate Vermont.
No, I didn't tell him to say that.
He didn't have to find the FBI, he just went up to a cop on the street and told him he was lost and said that his dad works at the FBI.
Come on, in you go.
That's it.
Okay, buddy, here's the deal.
We get to spend Christmas day together, but then I got to take you to Vermont, understand? Okay.
Will you miss Africa? Africa? No.
I'd rather spend time with you.
Do we got a tree? We got two trees.
- Two trees? - Two.
- Why? - Come on, I'll show you.
Here, I want you to try this, honey.
Are they having fun? What are you talking about? Of course they are.
And by the way, this is the best Christmas that I have had in 16 years.
Me, too.
Oh, my God.
What's wrong? What is this? It's just a little good cheer I made under the mattress.
Bones, hey, good news.
Turns out I got Parker for Christmas after all.
Christmas magic, right? Hey, so we figured we'd call and wish you a little yuletide cheer.
Merry Christmas, Bones.
Thanks, Parker.
Hey, if that's Booth, you wish him merry Christmas for me, will you? My dad says merry Christmas.
Listen, Bones, I got a little something for you.
Oh, I got you something, too.
We can, exchange gifts in a couple days.
Go to the window and open up the blinds now.
What? Hey everybody, it looks like we got our tree after all.
What?! A tree?! Oh, my gosh! So exciting! Yes! Isn't it pretty? Merry Christmas.
I love my gift, Booth.
Merry Christmas, Bones.
Bones S3E09 "The Santa in the Slush"
At least you get the kids.
I get their dads.
Letches all want me to sit on their laps.
I don't much care for the way Santa is gawking at you either.
Don't do that.
You're too pretty to smoke.
Next you're going to tell me, it'll stunt my growth.
Be nice now, it's Christmas.
- What's that smell? - What do you want? It's the back of a mall.
I have a very sensitive nose.
Don't walk.
Why are you walking? Let's just sit.
It's coming from over here.
There's something.
Probably old hot dogs or a dead cat.
No, no, no, don't touch.
Let me.
Jail's not too bad.
I get meals with your brother.
We go out on these work details together.
You haven't asked me why I'm strapped in these chains.
Well, you're in jail.
No, I'm in dress rehearsal for a Christmas Carol.
You're Jacob Marley? I wanted to be Scrooge, but some triple homicide in Cell Block H got the part.
You don't want to know how.
What are you gonna do for Christmas? I'm doing what I always do.
I'm going on a trip.
To New York? Peru.
National Geographic found a new step pyramid at an ancient ceremonial site known as El Brujo.
Part of a very mysterious culture called the Moche.
Well, unless they're elves, it's not very Christmassy.
No, they aren't elves.
You know what I'd like? I'd like to spend another Christmas with kids with a family, with a tree.
You're in jail, Dad.
So is Russ.
Mom's dead.
And Christmas is overrated anyway.
People expect it to be so perfect, and it never is.
I'm really looking forward to the skeletons in El Brujo.
Christmas and skeletons do not go together.
I remember the Christmas you and Mom gave me the toolbox.
That was great.
Yeah, except that the toolbox was for Russ.
But you decided that it was yours, and he let you have it.
He did? Yeah.
I hope some day that, uh we can all have Christmas together again.
- I doubt it, Dad.
- Lie to me.
I can pretend.
I've got to go look at a dead person.
You never were any good at sugarcoating anything.
You've got that sad little girl look on your face after you've been with your dad.
No, I don't.
He wishes we could spend Christmas together with Russ.
Do it.
They're both in jail.
It's impossible.
What are your plans? I'm thinking of driving the truck right off the bridge.
I'm being melodramatic and self-pitying.
You love Christmas.
I love it, you know, when I have Parker.
This year, he's going skiing in Vermont with Rebecca and Captain Fantastic.
Who's Captain Fantastic? It's her boyfriend.
Commands a Coast Guard cutter.
His last name isn't literally Fantastic, is it? Might as well be.
You know they have a trailer at the jail.
Mostly for conjugal visits.
Captain Fantastic is in jail? No, your dad.
You could give him what he wants for Christmas.
- Pull a few strings.
- I'm not a string puller.
- I've seen you pull some strings.
- My father is a murderer and a thief.
Murders and thieves they get Christmas, too.
In fact, it's kind of the point.
Well, I have other plans.
Whatever they are, skeletons and Christmas do not mix.
That's exactly what my father said.
Where are we going? Early Christmas present for you, Bones.
Dead guy in the sewer.
Cold enough as it is.
Let's get this done here.
Great.
Had to be Santa.
You'd thinks someone who could squeeze up and down chimneys would find the sewer a snap.
Rats got to him.
Like huge bacterial count, unseasonably warm weather explains why the rats found him so digestible.
He was washed down through the sewer system.
I mean, look at all the stuff that's around him.
Uphill is that way.
Busiest shopping district during the busiest shopping season.
Maybe he worked up there.
Or he was pushed out of a low-flying sleigh.
Cynicism from you at Christmas? - What happened? - Nothing.
Rebecca is taking Parker to Vermont for the holidays.
That sucks majorly.
It does suck majorly.
So what do you say we just get back to our dead Santa here.
He's not Santa, Booth.
He's a dead man in a costume.
Well, the beard looks real and he's pretty fat.
Which doesn't make him Santa.
Well, let's not jump to conclusions.
Aw, three days before Christmas and somebody kills Santa.
Bones S3E09 "The Santa in the Slush" We'll send his gloves to the FBI crime lab, see if they can get any fingerprints from the inside.
Damage here on the left side of the skull suggests a strong blow to the left temporal bone.
So Santa was definitely murdered.
Someone did not like their present.
There's copious insect activity from the sewer.
I'm intrigued that the Santa myth survived so far into modern times.
Children, Dr.
Addy, it's for children.
These duds are not department store issue.
This is real ermine.
It's a hand-tailored suit.
Which I'd like to get off of him after you two finish your scraping and Not that that isn't all very, very important.
What Santa is supposed to do is clearly impossible.
He keeps a list, checks it twice, what's the big deal? If you take into account all believers of the myth, factor in time zones, rotation of the Earth, assume Santa travels east to west he'd have to make approximately 822.
6 visits per second to reach every child.
So Santa parks his sleigh, unloads presents, fills stockings, eats snacks, gets back into his sleigh and is on to the next house in about one-one-thousandth of a second? Children have to be stupid to accept that.
Okay, first of all, children are not stupid, they're just children.
Second, Santa is magic.
Let's identify the victim, shall we? There's an ellipsoid aperture in the mandibular left canine and first premolar, consistent with pipe smoking.
Plus, traces of residue on the canine could this be clay? Santa is often portrayed smoking a clay pipe.
All right, all right, very funny boys.
Come on, where's your holiday spirit? Based on the degree of bloating and purge fluids, I'd estimate time of death between Check the sewer sludge and bugs and give me a confirmation.
Phorid fly maggots, third instar.
And they appear to have been well-fed as well.
Santa was around some other food source before he died.
My bet's on milk and cookies.
This is not Miracle on 34th Street.
We're not saying this is actually Santa Claus.
We're merely anatomizing the evidence.
Okay, it's still rough, but this might help.
Dad wants to spend Christmas with the family.
So how are you going to arrange it, bust me and Dad out? There are trailers for conjugal visits.
We might be able to use one of those.
And I talked to Amy and she said she could bring the girls down to see you.
You shouldn't have done that.
Amy said the girls had been asking about you.
I lied to them, Tempe.
The girls don't even know I'm in here.
They think I went overseas to work.
You're deserting them, just like Dad.
You think it would be better for them to find out that the guy they think is so wonderful is actually a criminal? When I found out Dad was not dead, I was happy - even if it turned out that he was - A murderer? You are not a murderer, Russ.
It doesn't sound like a good Christmas present to me.
- You could explain it - No, Tempe, it's not going to happen.
Can't you sleep on your own couch? I'm just waiting for the squints to find out something.
How'd it go with Russ? He says he doesn't want the girls to come.
Your Dad he wants the whole Christmas package, you know, the tree, the kids, the presents, the whole shebang.
Well, the whole shebang is impossible.
Christmas is about making the impossible happen.
You mean like you spending Christmas with Parker.
Okay, you know what, that hurt.
Wake me up when the squint squad finds out something.
Victim appears to have odd-shaped remodeling on his sacrum, with a sclerotic margin around the injury.
Some kind of old injury? Two small indentations here, consistent with trauma from impact with some sort of cloven-hoof? Cloven, like a reindeer? Oh, thank God you're here.
This is so wasted on me alone.
Evidence is evidence whether anyone is there to hear it or not.
Our victim was kicked by a reindeer.
Oh, get the hell out of here.
The sacrum.
Wait, wait.
The evidence actually adds up to an old fat man with a white beard and a custom-made Santa suit who smoked a clay pipe and got kicked in the ass by a reindeer? FBI lab got partial prints off the gloves and AFIS found a possible match.
Apparently, our victim worked for the school board.
As a teacher? No.
He was a Santa Claus.
A Santa Claus? Or the Santa Claus? Check out his name.
"Kristopher Kringle.
" According to AFIS, it's his legal name.
- There's the old Dutch "Sinterklaas" - Watch out! - I'm looking.
- You're going to get hit by a car.
He had a partner named Black Peter, who carried a whip to beat naughty children.
Myths are traditionally used to control behavior.
For instance, the story of Moses bringing the Ten Commandments You're equating Moses to Santa? Well, Santa is usually considered more jolly, but Okay, great.
We're looking for 223 Hudson.
I'm sorry you can't be with Parker, Booth.
What are you going to do, right? He's got to face the facts sometime.
She shouldn't take him away, not at Christmas.
Not the way he feels about you.
Oh, my God.
What? He lives in a toy store.
Watch out for reindeer.
Really funny.
Parker would love this place.
Look at this! Gingerbread he's got the train.
This might explain the reindeer kick to Kringle's sacrum.
Ha! You got to be kidding me.
Bones, look at this.
This guy was committed.
Or should've been.
Hey, Bones.
Check this out.
Hidden compartment.
Looks like Santa was planning on buying a lot of toys.
Kris rented this place from me for six years.
Do you know where he lived before that? Actually, that wasn't my first question.
He wrote his previous address on the lease.
North Pole? Aw! Come on with that.
It turned out to be a good question.
You actually accepted that address? Are you kidding? How many guys want to live above a toy store? It's noisy.
And Kris gave me first and last month, up front, in cash.
Kris Kringle, from the North Pole, lives above a toy store this is further evidence that our victim is, indeed, the mythic figure known as Santa Claus.
Mythic, coming from the Latin "myth," meaning he doesn't actually exist.
No, from the Greek mythos, meaning "word.
" - He does not - This, right here What can you tell us about Mr.
Kringle's personal finances? Like I said, he always paid cash.
Where did he work? An employment agency called Temp Time, on 7th, by the Convention Center.
- Ha! Couldn't have been Santa.
- Why? Because Santa wouldn't have worked at a temp agency.
Why not? His work is seasonal.
- It doesn't - He wouldn't Kringle pay his rent on time? Always, at least, until the last couple of months.
Really? 'Cause, you know what? Obviously, he wasn't short on funds with all the money we found in the secret compartment of his drawer.
Son of a bitch.
All of this is rumpled, small bills, except for these eight $50 bills.
Brand new, with sequential serial numbers.
I don't know about any of this Did you, uh guys have some kind of a disagreement? Is that why he was holding out on you? No.
No.
No.
Maybe.
Kris gave me some ideas on a toy, which I patented and It sold? Somebody took a picture of TomKat's kid with it, so it sort of took off.
Wow.
Kringle could have sued you for a chunk of that cash.
He never actually told me he wanted a cut.
Maybe he just stopped paying his rent.
Thinking of Parker? No.
- Thinking about your dad? - No.
Russ.
You can't blame him for not wanting those girls to know the truth.
He's living a lie.
You'd never do that.
Well, not never.
I mean, I'd I lie to Parker, especially this time of year.
What about? I tell him that Santa's coming.
Really? It's Santa Claus! The Santa myth is based on blackmail: Be good or you won't get any presents.
No, it's not a lie-lie, Bones.
It's more like everybody agreeing that up to a certain age, kids deserve to live a different kind of truth.
By that reasoning, what we should do is figure out a lie Russ could tell the girls so they wouldn't know he was in jail.
That is a brilliant Christmas idea.
It was intended to be a scathing and incisive comment.
Give Russ civvies, the girls think he's flown in especially to visit his father in jail at Christmas.
Where would we say he's been? Building a bridge in Addis Ababa.
Addis Ababa is the landlocked capital of Ethiopia.
Fine.
You know what? Just make up your own lie.
I don't believe in lying to children.
You just want to go to Peru without feeling guilty.
You need to accept that you won't have Parker this Christmas.
I am no tenjoying this holiday season at all.
Yeah, well, neither am I.
The shadow on the X ray is a slight depression of the outer endocranial table.
Fracture's levered inward.
There are no signs of remodeling.
This localized staining suggests that his superficial temporal artery was punctured.
Very likely the cause of death.
So Santa was conked on the head.
The question is: With what? I'll run it under the scanning electron microscope.
So what are you doing for Christmas? Going home to Michigan.
What about you? Family cruise.
Sounds nice.
You'd think so.
Let me know what you find.
Kris is dead? Afraid so.
Man, I had bad feeling something was wrong.
I mean, it's not like Kris to miss work.
Especially not this time of year.
I called him a hundred times.
Twelve.
Twelve times.
We listened to his answering machine.
There are a lot of Santas here.
Yeah, but Kris was my numero uno.
I mean, all the guys knew that here.
In fact, if it wasn't for him, I never would've thought about getting into the Santa business.
Christmas is not going to be the same without Kris Kringle.
Anthropologically, what exactly would it mean to be a Numero Uno Santa Claus? Well, Kris got the best gigs.
Any of the other Santas They get jealous? Jealous enough to kill? Come on.
Is this about Kris? Did something happen to him? Who are you? I- I'm Jeff Mantell.
What happened to Kris? Kris was murdered.
Everybody! The dead Santa on the news it was Kris.
What can you tell me about Kris? Kris made a guy proud to wear the uniform.
Sure he did! That's the truth.
Was-Was Kris murdered? Um, all the Santas just need to take a step back.
Any help you need, guys, anything at all.
Why are you limping? Oh, my shins.
You want to see them? No Why would I want to see your shins? Children get to a certain age and they think it's hilarious to kick Santa in the shins.
That's I, uh I'd like to talk to anyone who knew Kris personally.
I only met Kris at the diner down the street a couple of weeks ago.
Whoever smells like the wet sweater, really needs to take a step back.
I was out of work, late on my alimony, and the man saved me.
He got me this job.
Sad, but familiar tale with Kris.
Typical Kris.
Always looking to help out.
Anybody know of any trouble? - Or arguments? - Differences of opinion? I can't even imagine that.
No, the man was truly, sincerely jolly.
We couldn't find a record of his bank account.
Oh, well, I cash Kris's checks.
What would Mr.
Kringle do during the three other seasons? Well, Kris was my only full-time, temp Santa.
You know, sometimes for the odd ad campaigns who need a Santa.
Car dealerships, ice cream parlors.
Sometimes hospitals had Christmas in July.
Ironically, the only night Kris wouldn't work was Christmas Eve.
His special night.
His night to deliver toys and goodies around the world.
We'd always tease him about that.
He never denied it.
The maggots in dead Santa's collar fed on high concentrations of non-sulfated chondroitin glycosaminoglycans and N-acetylneuramic acid.
This is why Booth hates talking to you.
It's the regurgitated saliva of male Aerodramus fuciphagus.
Wait, Booth hates talking to me? Not you specifically Lab people.
What's Aerodramus fuciphagus? The main ingredient in Bird's Nest Soup.
It's a rare Chinese delicacy, made from the nests of swiftlets.
It's more like bird spit soup, if you ask me.
So our victim was in China? I'm thinking Chinatown is more likely.
But I also found similar traces of the same stuff on the back of Santa's pants, mostly on the rear end.
He sat in it? Yeah, let's hope that's how it got there.
How common is this dish? A single kilogram of white swiftlet nest cost two grand.
Let's see who makes it here in DC.
Done and done.
These people all seem pretty upset to have lost one of their own.
I mean, they keep referring to "the uniform" like soldiers or cops.
According to Hodgins, Kris Kringle was probably killed in or near a restaurant called "Kum Jug Yuen" up in Chinatown.
- How'd he figure that out? - Do you really want to know? - You tell me.
- No, you don't.
I'm gonna trust you on that.
If you don't mind, I have a meeting with Caroline Julian at your office in ten minutes.
Is it about the trailer for your dad's Christmas? You think she'll help? Caroline's a lawyer She'll help, but she'll ask you to do something in return.
That's fair.
Yeah, hold that thought.
I thought you were going to Brazil for Christmas.
Peru.
Whatever.
It's south of the equator, doing bone things with bone people.
I checked with the people at the jail, and for my father to get the conjugal trailer, the prosecutor in charge of his case has to submit a written recommendation.
You're the prosecutor in charge of his case.
I'm aware of that.
Thank you, Dr.
Brennan.
So will you? You going to Brazil and all, what's the use of Max being in that conjugal trailer all by himself? Well, I'm trying to persuade my brother to celebrate Christmas with his family in there, too.
A yuletide gathering of the Brennan criminal element.
What do you mean "trying"? Russ doesn't want his stepdaughters to know that he's in jail.
How do you persuade them otherwise if they're actually having Christmas in the jail? One other thing, the warden says "no Christmas tree.
" That's right.
Three years ago, somebody made a shiv out of the star.
Now, no trees or ornaments of any kind.
Isn't that a little dreary? Hey, don't kill people, don't get sent to prison, have a Christmas pageant in your own home every year.
So, will you? I will.
You will? Thank you.
On one condition.
Booth said you'd say that.
Did he say I'd ask you to kiss him? No.
Well, are you? No cheeks, no noses, right on the lips.
People kiss people on the nose? I want you to kiss him under some mistletoe.
Kiss Booth? That's right, cherie.
Why? Because it will amuse me.
Why? Because you're all "Dr.
Brennan" and "Special Agent Seeley Booth" and it's Christmas and I have a puckish side that will not be denied.
Puckish? What's the matter? You don't think I can be puckish? I never thought about it until now.
You want me to write that letter, you kiss Booth on the lips, for no less than one-steamboat, two-steamboat five-steamboats.
That's blackmail.
That's correct.
That's unethical.
That's the deal.
Take it or leave it.
What about a tree? No Christmas tree.
No way.
Not even if you squeeze his buttocks.
I don't know.
Couldn't I just take you out to dinner some time? You kiss Seeley Booth on the lips and I'll make sure your daddy has his dream Christmas.
No tree, mind you, but otherwise, as good as an accused murderer can expect.
Look, you ever see this man before? Santa Claus? No, this isn't actually Santa Claus.
The guy that's wearing the Santa outfit in this picture.
Have you ever seen him? Can I see your I.
D.
again, please? - Booth.
- What? Your kid like roaches? Gromphadorhina, man, hissing roach.
Hey, grab me this container? This is a great pet, man.
Perfect Christmas gift.
No.
Did you find the bird's nest maggots yet? Still looking.
Okay, I'm calling the cops.
Whoa, whoa, pal, I am the cops, all right? Any fights out here back in the alley in the past four days? No, I don't come out here since I quit smoking.
It stinks.
It's the cycle of life, my friend.
Quite beautiful if you get into it.
Okay, you go back inside.
But tell the rest of your staff I'll be in in a few minutes to ask them some questions.
Hey, pal, you better hope I don't report this to the health department.
Pay dirt.
Fannia, Musca and Phoridae.
That is the exact maggots I found on Kringle's suit.
It means this is where he was killed.
So if he was killed here then he was probably dragged over here to this grate and dumped down this sewer.
An ignominious end for Father Christmas, huh? Whoa.
Whoa what? They were near the bottom.
No cash, just I.
D.
s and credit.
Probably dumped there by pickpockets.
You found cash in Kringle's apartment, right? Right.
Maybe he picked one pocket too many.
Well, we're going to find out the owners of these wallets, and see if they know any Santa pickpockets.
Booth, help me out of here? See you later.
Oh, come on Vermont is gonna be great, buddy.
Snowboarding.
- Just like when we went to Liberty.
- Mom says better than Liberty.
Well, she's right.
Can't you come? If you tell Mom that I don't want to go, then we could spend Christmas together.
Like we always do.
It's not gonna happen this year, buddy.
When you get back, me and you, we'll have our own Christmas, just the two of us.
Without Captain Fantastic.
We shouldn't call Brent "Captain Fantastic" anymore.
Why? You do.
- Well, I won't anymore.
- But it's funny.
No, it's disrespectful.
And if your mom likes someone, we should respect that and like them, too.
Is that true? You like Brent? Yeah, I do.
Are you going to be all alone at Christmas? Me? No.
I'm not going to be alone.
I'll be with Bones and all our friends.
- I'm going to Peru.
- See? We're all going to Peru.
You're having Christmas in Africa? - Actually, Peru is - Is Africa.
Isn't that right Bones? Okay? I'm going to be just fine.
So come on, go wash up before your mom gets here to pick you up, all right? I love you.
I love you too, buddy.
Go ahead.
You lied a lot to him.
It's the magic of Christmas, Bones.
So you want to tell me what happened? I'd just come out of the check cashing place and I was off to do some Christmas shopping.
When you were mugged by Santa.
Not mugged.
It was just a bump as I was walking out of the place.
I said excuse me, he ho-ho-ho'd, we went our separate ways.
When did you realize your wallet was missing? An hour later at the PriceCo.
I'm in the check-out line, I'm going to pay and it's gone.
Naturally you went back the next day and you beat the crap out of him.
I asked for my wallet back, Santa plays all dumb and then it got physical.
It was 900 bucks, man.
Mr.
Moussa, there are hundreds of Santas in the DC area this time of year.
Come on You and I are trained law enforcement officers.
I got the right guy.
If it was him, he definitely deserved a beating.
It was him.
And he got off lucky, because of my self-control.
This guy, he ruined Christmas.
Egyptians they celebrate Christmas? I am not Muslim, Agent Booth.
I am Coptic.
Me, my wife, my children, we all celebrate Christmas.
Except for maybe not this year because this guy took my money.
And what did you do to him? I hit him.
I'm not proud of that.
No pushing? No tussling? Just popped him once in the schnoz, that's it.
You didn't roll around in the alley? What alley? We were in front of a big box store.
You didn't mean to kill him.
You just shoved him down that manhole.
I- I knocked him down, the people, they don't know why, they don't understand, they're looking, maybe they think I'm a terrorist, so I get out of there.
Right.
Do I need a lawyer? Bones, PayFast Check Cashing confirms cashing Moussa's paycheck.
The teller gave him 900 bucks in all crisp new 50's.
Kringle had new 50's in his dresser.
Yup, and the serial numbers match.
Suggesting Kringle is our pickpocket.
Uh-huh, so we're getting a warrant to analyze Moussa's clothing.
If there's bird soup goop on them, we'll know he's our killer.
What is with the mistletoe? I was going to talk to you about this.
Caroline wants us to kiss under the mistletoe.
What?! It's the only way she'll make Christmas for my family.
By having us kiss? Yes.
Why? - Because she's feeling puckish.
- Puckish? What's that mean? She's gonna be here any second.
Do you want some gum? No, my breath is just fine.
All right, look, I'll have a talk with Caroline.
No.
No? I'm only telling you out of professional courtesy.
- What? - So that you won't be surprised.
When you say kiss, you mean like kiss-kiss? Like on both cheeks? No, the lips.
Like brother and sister, colleagues.
French people meeting on the street.
Caroline's feeling puckish, huh? It means playful and impish.
Congratulations.
I hear you have a suspect in the Santa slaying.
Yeah, looks like the Easter Bunny has nothing to worry about.
Did you talk to the judge about the trailer? Yes, I did.
What about your end? Well, look at that.
Mistletoe.
You take a step to your right you'll be right under that cute little sprig.
Was that enough steamboats? Plenty.
A whole flotilla.
I don't know what that means, but, um Merry Christmas.
It was like kissing my brother.
You sure must like your brother.
She does.
I do.
The trailer is all arranged.
You're good to go, cherie.
Merry Christmas.
I'm sure she feels really foolish right now.
Well, hey, I really should I should get back and see if the forensic guy has got anything yet on Moussa's That's a good idea.
Yeah, I've got stuff to do, too.
The for with bones.
I understand completely.
Thanks for the gum.
How you doing? Some metallic flakes imbedded in the bone.
Trying to help Zack determine what kind of weapon was used.
You know, this is our first Christmas as a couple.
Aw, too bad Santa's dead.
I thought that we could make Christmas decorations for our tree.
Is that too corny? It's what my family did when I was little and I always thought, you know, when I had my own family, that I'd carry on the tradition.
Are two people a family? Isn't that how every family starts? Then I think us making decorations is just corny enough.
I don't understand, has there been some kind of crisis? Yes, I have a crisis.
Bones, it was just mistletoe.
Not the kiss.
That was nothing.
- You kissed? - Mistletoe! That's not the crisis.
Was there tongue? You know what, get your own sex life.
That has nothing to do with sex.
- Nothing.
- No.
There was no It was mistletoe.
Totally sexless.
I'm all ears.
Just take your hat off there.
Booth, who is a very honest person, says that at this time of year, deception is necessary for the happiness of little children.
- I'm being misquoted.
- Booth is absolutely right.
She got the gist.
Yeah, there's a fictional element to Christmas.
You mean the whole "Birth of a Savior" rigmarole? It is not rigmarole.
- How do you know? - Dr.
Brennan.
It's-It's the, uh, feeling of Christmas.
What people call "The Christmas Spirit.
" It's a kind of dream or hope that we carry with us from childhood.
- But as adults - Are you including you in that? As adults, we're imbued by the pragmatic routines of life, which makes difficult for us to regard anything with childlike wonder.
But, you know, it's all right for us to try.
We put on silly hats and drape trees with sparkly lights and wrap gifts in garish paper, and that's good for us.
It's not only all right to allow children the transient experience of innocence and joy, it's our responsibility.
Okay.
Okay? I found that very helpful.
What do you think I've been saying for the past four days? You're going to help me lie to the girls? Apparently, it's not morally wrong to lie at Christmas.
What if they know I'm lying? Apparently, sometimes lying is a kind of gift.
I'm hazy on the rules, but the idea is even if they know you're lying, they know you're doing it out of love.
Where are you getting this? Because, I'm in jail, and I'm getting better advice.
Look, Russ, we have a plan.
I bring you some civilian clothes, the girls think you popped in from Addis Ababa.
Addis Ababa? What did you and Amy tell them? We said I went to Burma.
Burma? Who cares where we chose? Burma's on the other side of the world.
Burma doesn't even exist anymore.
- What happened to it? - It became Myanmar.
There's another problem with the trailer.
No Christmas tree.
Why? Shank material.
- Is it important? - Christmas with no tree? It's a disaster.
Forget it.
They're young, Russ.
They believe in Santa Claus.
They believe in you because you love them, and they'll sit in your lap they'll open their presents and they'll believe in you and Burma and maybe they won't notice that there's no tree.
Look, Amy will be there, Dad will be there, the girls will be there.
And you? I was going to, but we're not the only people getting the trailer ans I thought it would be in the afternoon, but now it's Christmas Eve and I gotta be on that plane.
To Peru? Tempe, Dad wants us all.
You're one of us.
You found what killed Kris Kringle? - We know what it was made of.
- And we know the shape.
Something crescent-shaped and brass? I couldn't find anything this shape, but by making a slight paradigm shift - The paradigm shift was my idea.
- And slightly change the angle A circle, not a crescent.
I believe the mark left on Kris Kringle's skull was the result of being struck with a circular object approximately 15 centimeters in diameter.
Six inches.
A bell.
A brass bell.
Meaning he was probably attacked by another Santa.
Everybody have your bells? Aw, right, right! Enough! Stop! You can tell the elves they can go now.
Elves go for coffee.
See you later.
What's the use of Elves without Santa? - Those bells are all the same.
- Yeah, I buy 'em in bulk.
- I sell them to the Santas for cost.
- Is that Kris's idea? Yeah, how did you know? Just getting a feel for the guy.
We have a warrant here to inspect your bells.
Inspect our what? Bells, Larry.
Uh, why? Agent Booth and I are gonna swab each of your bells with a cotton ball soaked in phenolthalein.
Is it gonna sting? Bells, Larry.
She said bells.
You need a hearing aid, Larry.
Why are they antisepticising our bells? Ho, ho, ho, ho, steady there, Santa.
Why do you need a warrant to disinfect a bell? What's the matter there, Santa? They're looking for something and they're not telling us.
Look, I read the warrant.
It's the law.
Just give him the bell.
so we can go.
- Jeff, just show them the bell.
- Come on, give us your bell.
No.
Listen, buddy, I'm not going to see my son for Christmas this year, so I'm a little annoyed with Christmas and everything that comes along with it.
So give the lady the bell.
Give her the bell.
Come on, go ahead.
Thank you.
The brass plating on this bell is chipped.
Oh, look at that.
Okay, Santa, you're under arrest for murder.
What? This bell is the weapon that killed Kris Kringle.
No.
No, no, no.
I didn't kill Kris.
Come on, guys, we switch bells all the time.
Now that's true.
All of our bells are identical, you know.
We put one down and then we just pick up another.
Okay, just hold on to your bells there for a second.
Any ideas? No.
Come on, think Bones, paint the picture.
It's got to be one of these guys.
I mean, half of these guys owe Kringle the money.
One of them's a pickpocket.
Gets money from the Egyptian.
- Can we go? - Cool your jets, Santa.
Go have a cookie and some egg nog.
Kringle gets suspicious, he catches the pickpocketer dumping the wallet in the Dumpster, confronts him - We have to sniff their behinds.
- We have to sniff - You lost me there.
- Everybody up against the wall! Or, okay, put your hands on the table.
First of all that's my job, and second why? They fought.
They rolled around through the bird's nest soup goop.
- Right.
Good thinking.
That's good.
- Thank you.
Except for the sniffing their butts thing.
You start over there, I'll start here.
Wait, wait, wait.
You're going to sniff my guys? Geez.
All right, this is officially the worst Christmas ever.
Don't you need a warrant for this? - Hey, pal, why don't you just be quiet? - Turn around.
- Bird's nest soup.
- Bird's nest soup.
It's Jeff! He killed Kris! Jeff killed Kris! Are you going to pull them off? Fine.
Watch this.
How do you like it now, Santas? Everybody off.
On your feet.
You're under arrest.
Let's go.
The man is a disgrace to his uniform.
You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout, I'm telling you why Santa Claus is coming to town.
He's fine, Rebecca.
Now just listen.
I will get him back to you in time tomorrow before you leave for Vermont.
I hate Vermont.
No, I didn't tell him to say that.
He didn't have to find the FBI, he just went up to a cop on the street and told him he was lost and said that his dad works at the FBI.
Come on, in you go.
That's it.
Okay, buddy, here's the deal.
We get to spend Christmas day together, but then I got to take you to Vermont, understand? Okay.
Will you miss Africa? Africa? No.
I'd rather spend time with you.
Do we got a tree? We got two trees.
- Two trees? - Two.
- Why? - Come on, I'll show you.
Here, I want you to try this, honey.
Are they having fun? What are you talking about? Of course they are.
And by the way, this is the best Christmas that I have had in 16 years.
Me, too.
Oh, my God.
What's wrong? What is this? It's just a little good cheer I made under the mattress.
Bones, hey, good news.
Turns out I got Parker for Christmas after all.
Christmas magic, right? Hey, so we figured we'd call and wish you a little yuletide cheer.
Merry Christmas, Bones.
Thanks, Parker.
Hey, if that's Booth, you wish him merry Christmas for me, will you? My dad says merry Christmas.
Listen, Bones, I got a little something for you.
Oh, I got you something, too.
We can, exchange gifts in a couple days.
Go to the window and open up the blinds now.
What? Hey everybody, it looks like we got our tree after all.
What?! A tree?! Oh, my gosh! So exciting! Yes! Isn't it pretty? Merry Christmas.
I love my gift, Booth.
Merry Christmas, Bones.
Bones S3E09 "The Santa in the Slush"