Honey, what is that?
Found it.
Dad, you should toss that. It's getting kind of gross.
Toss cookie angel? No way.
You made this for me in first grade...
with your chubby little hands.
Darling, could you pick me up
an extra bottle of Aquavit for our glogg?
An extra bottle of 100 proof?
You're not tampering with our sacred holiday recipe?
No, no, no. I'm just gonna make an extra-large batch
to take with me Christmas Eve caroling.
Oh, it'll be after our Christmas dinner.
You don't mind, do you?
But it's Christmas Eve. That's when we open the gifts.
Well, maybe we can open them in the morning.
In the morning? Mornings are for stockings.
Well, I-I think—
I think what Alexis is trying to say
is that she has other plans, too.
Just with a couple of friends. It's...
What friends? What plans?
What is happening to our family tradition?
Dad, I think you're kind of overreacting.
I am not overreacting.
It's—its one night out of the year.
Is it too much to ask to stick to the program?
Maybe your program should evolve a little.
It is evolving. I invited you, didn't I?
You are still coming, right?
Uh, ye—I mean, if I don't have to work.
But look, okay. No presents, remember?
We promised. It's just—
it's a little too stressful this first year.
No presents.
I'm flexible.
There are certain aspects to this that are time honored—
the—the heart—
the beating heart behind the Christmas holidays.
And now Santa is dead?
When will it end?
Hate to break it to you, Castle, but there is no Santa.
Well, not anymore.
You gotta admit, with that beard and that belly,
he looks like the real deal.
If by "the real deal," you mean
an overweight man in a red suit
who was hopefully carrying ID.
Yeah.
Along with lots of candy canes wrappers.
Though I don't think that ID of his
is gonna do you much good.
"Kris Kringle." Address—North Pole?
That's cute.
Maybe he's the real Santa,
like in "Miracle On 34th Street."
Yeah, but with no happy ending.
This Santa fell out of the sky around 9:30.
From an aircraft?
Maybe, but it wasn't a commercial plane,
I can tell you that.
With a fall from high altitude,
we'd see severe frostbite on his eyes and his face.
Hey. So I just talked with the family.
They didn't see or hear any planes overhead.
That doesn't make any sense.
He had to have fallen from somewhere.
I'm sorry.
Are we overlooking the obvious here?
He hit some turbulence, slipped out of his sleigh,
and fell to his doom.
Santa... lying there dead.
You gotta ask yourself, what kind of world do we live in?
A world in which there is no Santa
and people don't fall out of nowhere.
Can you check with Air Traffic Control
and find out what flights were in the area?
Sure. Bah humbug.
So was the fall cause of death?
It looks like it, but I won't know for sure
until I get him back to the morgue.
Well, Santa or no, he sure is committed.
And you're saying there's nothing in his wallet
- that indicates a break in character? - Nope.
Except for these boots.
They are definitely not from the North Pole.
They're custom made from a leather shop in Queens.
Got a pair of motorcycle boots there.
Hopefully they'll have a record of who this man is.
Hey. So I heard from Air Traffic Control
but you're not gonna like the news.
They have no record of anyone flying over the park
during the time our guy hit the ground.
How is that even possible?
Santa had his sleigh in stealth mode.
No. I mean, after 9/11, how is it possible
that someone can just fly over Manhattan?
Sightseeing choppers do it all the time.
There was this one time, I took a midnight loop
around the Statue Of Liberty with this Latin...
publisher.
No, he's right.
There's a Manhattan flight corridor
which doesn't require you to radio in
if you stay under 1,300 feet.
My mother-in-law is a licensed pilot,
as she keeps reminding me.
Part of a larger effort to make me feel inferior.
I'm sorry. Did I just say that out loud?
Sounds like she's staying with you, Captain?
One day soon, your in-laws will visit, too,
and when they do,
think hotel.
Lord, I hate the holidays.
Yet another quality she has in common with the Grinch.
So if we don't know where our Santa fell from,
do we at least know who he is?
Well, hopefully we will soon.
Unis rousted the owner of that boot store in Queens.
They're getting him to open up the shop and check his invoices.
Lanie's got something for us.
- Can you keep us posted on the boots? - Yeah.
You're taking this one kinda hard, bro.
He's a symbol of childhood innocence.
Makes me wonder what this means for the future.
It means there's gonna be one less guy dressed up as Santa.
Hey, so, uh, we're coming up on Christmas Eve.
We gonna keep the tradition going?
You, me, a six-pack, Madden on the big screen?
You know, I, um...
I think Jenny has other plans this year.
Yeah.
Remember how you asked if that fall is what killed him?
Well, it wasn't.
I pulled this out of his back.
And that is a.38.
Do you still think he fell off his sleigh, Castle?
No. Clearly, he was shot out of it.
Talk about a war on Christmas.
Or he was just shot in an aircraft and pushed out.
So we have anything else?
Just this... embedded in his suit.
A chip of paint
or some kind of enamel, cherry red.
From a sleigh.
I don't know yet.
I'm sending it down to the lab for analysis.
Probably from a sleigh.
Are we any closer to figuring out who he is?
We are now.
Name's Edmund Smith. Lives in the Bronx.
I got his ID from that boot shop.
I'm sorry. You just came all the way down here to give me this?
Yeah. I mean, you told me to keep you posted.
You did say that, right?
You know what? Uh, Castle and I are gonna go and check out
the place and see what there is to see.
Okay.
Javi, since when did you start wearing cologne to work?
Oh, you know, well, it's the holidays,
and I've got places to be, people to see.
How about you?
Okay. I see where this is going.
I'm gonna stop you right there.
I already have plans for Christmas Eve.
I'm hanging out with my girlfriends.
Oh. That's cool.
Maybe afterwards, you and I can—
Javi, let's not be one of those sad, desperate holiday hookups.
But when all this dies down,
if you still want to get together,
just give me a call.
Um, I-I don't think he's home.
NYPD. Is there a super or someone
that can let us into this apartment?
Yeah, um, we have a key.
Tim, can you grab Ed's key?
Did, uh, something happen to Edmund?
So when was the last time you saw him?
Well, it must have been last night around 5:00.
Uh, I saw him leave with his costume bag.
I figured he was going on a job.
Ed was a professional Santa.
Looks like he took his job pretty seriously.
Oh, he lived it, really.
I mean, volunteering at the rec center and the shelter.
He was always here for Tim and the kids.
He—he even helped with our lawsuit.
He was a Santa and a lawyer?
No, um, we lost our house,
and he was just trying to help us out.
He was like that.
Sounds like he got involved in a lot of people's lives.
Do you think he made any enemies along the way?
I didn't think so, but then last week,
I heard this man pounding on Ed's door,
shouting cuss words.
Did you see who it was?
I did. I-I looked out.
It was an—an older, tough-looking dude.
When he saw me, he said,
"You tell Ed if I see him again, I'll kill him."
So I-I told Ed.
How did he react?
Well, he told us not to worry,
but you could tell he was pretty shaken up.
You think you could describe him?
You know what? I-I don't have to. That's him.
Well, whoever he is, he's a pilot.
According to the tail number on that Cessna...
the plane is registered to a David Dunne.
Guy's got priors, too—
drunk and disorderly, assault.
Where do we find him?
Well, this just lists his place of employment.
1215 Canal Street, second floor.
Wow. Someone takes Christmas seriously.
Oh, you should see our place.
Our tree is a 15-foot noble fir,
we have our garland shipped in
from some lake I can't pronounce by the Canadian border,
and wait till you see my train set.
Yeah. Can't wait.
- Hi. - Merry Christmas.
We're looking for David Dunne.
Oh, Dave's in the big room
teaching a class.
Uh, what is it you do here exactly?
We make magic.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Again!
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Again!
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Once again from the diaphragm.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Outstanding!
Santa school?
And I bet you one Santa is missing.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Sync by YYeTs.com Corrections by Alex1969 www.addic7ed.com
This is crazy. I did not kill Edmund.
Trust me. You're gonna have to do
a lot better than that to convince her.
You can start by telling us when you last flew your plane.
Not for weeks. You can check.
We intend to. Now where were you at 9:30 last night?
I was at the Harlem Youth Center
handing out gifts to kids.
I wasn't anywhere near Edmund.
But you did engage in some un-Santa-like behavior at his apartment.
That what this is about?
That was nothing.
You threatened to kill him, and now he's dead.
I wouldn't call that nothing.
I can explain that, okay?
See, Edmund took one of my best gigs.
It was a print ad for Cartier.
I was their go-to Santa.
You know, this year they wanted to go more warm and cuddly.
Well, look at me. I-I'm warm. I'm cuddly.
But, no. They chose Edmund.
So, yeah, I drank too much peppermint schnapps
and went over to his place and popped off.
I'm not proud of it,
but that was all I did.
Did you see him again after that?
No. You have to understand,
when I first met Edmund five years ago,
he was at a low point in life.
I raised him up. I taught him everything I knew.
I turned him into a world-class Santa,
and now I'm losing gigs to him?
Well, maybe that's it.
Maybe it's time to hang up the fluffy red jockstrap.
Is... is that a metaphor or do you really—
Uh, when Edmund was killed,
he was wearing his Santa suit.
Do you know if he had a job last night?
You'd have to ask his agent.
Santas have agents?
Yeah. Mostly we use the Bells & Holly Agency.
You said Edmund was at a low point in his life.
What did you mean by that?
I just think he became a Santa to turn his life around.
And it worked, too.
Turn his life around?
Was he in trouble of some sort?
All I know is, back when I met him,
Edmund was a totally different guy.
David Dunne's alibi checked out.
Harlem Youth Club said that he was there last night.
And the Cessna has been parked in a hangar for over a month.
Did you find out what Santa job Edmund was doing?
His agency said he wasn't booked on any gigs last night.
So then why was he wearing his Santa suit
and how'd he end up dead?
Well, if this was a story,
it would all come back to Edmund's character—
why he became a Santa in the first place.
Turns out, that's a mystery all by itself.
I've been looking into this guy, and check it—
that is Santa five years ago.
Meet James Edmund Smith.
He was a private equity manager at some big firm.
- That's the same guy? - Yeah.
What happened?
Dedication to his craft.
Like De Niro in "Raging Bull."
To be a Santa?
It's pretty extreme, I know, and I'll tell you this much,
he didn't go all Santa for the money.
Back in the day, he used to pull down a half a mil a year.
As Santa, he made a tenth of that.
You make that much as a Santa? Maybe I should switch jobs, huh?
What, gain 200 pounds and have a bunch of rug rats
sitting on your lap with dirty diapers?
Yeah, thanks for that visual.
Oh, here's another thing.
I pulled Edmund's financials.
On the night he was killed, he withdrew 2 grand from his ATM.
He didn't have that money on him when we found him.
His wallet was empty.
All right, take a look at the ATM footage
and see if anyone was with him.
He might have been robbed.
Uh, robbed and then launched into space?
And how is that less plausible than your sleigh?
I think you mean less clausible.
What about his phone records?
Made a bunch of calls to some lawyer in Brooklyn.
But here's the interesting one.
Last phone call he ever made was to his ex-wife.
- Mrs. Claus. - Gwenn Harwin.
I went back pretty far in his phone records.
He hasn't called her for at least three years.
So he pulls out 2 grand, calls his ex-wife,
and a couple of hours later, he ends up dead?
Let's bring her in.
He called me to say that he wanted to stop by.
It was the strangest thing.
When he showed up, I didn't recognize him,
and now he's just... gone.
I'm sorry to ask you this, Ms. Harwin,
but where were you last night at 9:30?
That's quite all right. I understand.
I was, uh, hosting a benefit for the food bank.
And why did Edmund come to see you?
To apologize.
Apologize for what?
For the way he walked out on our life.
We were good together. At least, I thought we were.
12 years of marriage,
of building a life together,
and then five years ago Christmas Eve,
we went to a party, and afterwards,
we stayed up to watch "It's A Wonderful Life."
And the next morning, he left
with just the shirt on his back
and no explanation.
But why would he visit you now?
He wanted me to know how sorry he was
for the way he left in case...
anything happened to him.
What did he mean by that?
I don't know what he meant.
I-I didn't even know who this man was.
He seemed very nervous and very on edge.
Did he give you any indication
of what he was afraid of
or who might have been after him?
After he left, I went to the window
to watch him get into the cab.
And as the cab pulled away,
there was a man on a motorcycle who was following him.
We're gonna need you to give us a description of that motorcycle
along with its rider.
Early Christmas present from Jenny?
Something like that. Would you mind not touching it?
Ooh.
Well, well, well.
Now I see what you and Jenny
got planned for Christmas Eve.
Y'all gon' be getting busy.
Ho! Ho!
Ho!
I take it this is your idea of working the Santa case?
Detective Esposito,
you're supposed to be digging up that ATM footage.
And you are?
Chasing down that lawyer that our victim had been calling, Sir.
Okay, then. Let's finish up this hoochie-coochie thing
and get on with it.
Yes, Sir.
So busted.
How does "guy on a motorcycle"
connect to Edmund landing in the park?
Nothing connects.
Why does a man watch a Christmas movie
then walk out on everything to become a Santa?
Unless the key to Edmund's story
is "It's A Wonderful Life."
You remember, in the movie,
George Bailey tried to commit suicide on Christmas Eve
and was saved by an angel?
Which in our story is David Dunne.
Weird casting choice, I know,
but what if Edmund was trying to jump off a metaphoric bridge,
you know, to start over?
As a Santa?
Yes.
Yeah, that's where it falls apart.
Actually, it looks like Edmund was way more
than just a Santa.
I finally got ahold of that lawyer
- that he'd been calling. - Mm-hmm.
She'd actually filed a suit on behalf of his neighbors,
the Cabots, who'd lost their home to a predatory lender,
Suncove Funding.
Something about illegal practices
and forged documents.
Anyway, it's a class-action suit
representing 43 families with millions of dollars at stake.
But why was Edmund calling the lawyer?
She had been working on contingency.
She's already lost tons of money
pressing the case, so she wanted to drop the suit.
But Edmund begged her not to.
In fact, he asked her to hold off just a few days,
maybe he could turn things around.
How?
Well, he didn't say, but she told him
the only thing that would turn things around
was a check for 25 grand.
What do we know about this company
that Edmund was up against?
Suncove? It's a fly-by-night.
They made their money, then they folded.
Gates actually has a friend at the SEC
trying to dig up some information on them.
Can you check with the Fraud Division?
See what they know about Suncove?
- Yeah. You got it. - Thanks.
Speaking of "It's A Wonderful Life,"
I was thinking, tomorrow night,
perhaps we should have a Christmas movie marathon or...
some other kind of marathon that makes life wonderful.
- Um... - What?
Castle, look, I know how much the holidays mean to you
and I know that you love Christmas,
but I can't make it tomorrow.
What?
The precinct is short staffed,
so I'm gonna have to work.
How—to—what—don't—
don't—don't you have seniority?
Don't—how— how can this happen?
Look, I—
I couldn't tell Gates.
She doesn't know about us, okay?
So... look, I'm sorry. I know that you're disappointed.
No. Ah... no.
I—it's not your fault. I know.
It's all—it's okay. I'm...
I gotta get outta here anyway. I got a date with Alexis.
Gonna do some Christmas shopping.
- Okay, have fun. - Okay.
- And don't get me anything. - Right.
Hey.
So, uh, I pulled this from the ATM footage.
Edmund was alone when he took out the cash,
but he did get into a cab.
Any idea where he was going?
Yeah, I traced the taxi he used from the medallion.
Cabbie said that he took Edmund to Ho-Ho-Kus Field.
It's a small airfield out in Jersey.
Is that where he got on the plane?
You'd think, but no.
The cabbie said that
Edmund had him wait so he could go meet somebody,
then he got back in the cab, they left the airfield,
and the cabbie dropped him off in Long Island City.
That doesn't make any sense.
How'd he end up in the air if he went to Long Island City?
I have no idea,
but the person he met with at the airfield might.
So...
You, uh, pulled the Christmas shift again?
You know, you shouldn't be eavesdropping, buddy.
Espo, does that look cherry red to you?
It does.
Just like the paint chip we found on Edmund.
This lock's been tampered with.
Looks like it was forced open.
There's fresh blood here.
And lots of it.
Looks like we just found our crime scene.
Yeah.
Well, it looks like the blood is a match to Edmund,
but so far, there are no prints.
Looks like the cockpit's been wiped.
If Edmund came down here
and then he went back to Long Island City,
then how the hell did he end up in this chopper?
Well, whoever was with him has gotta have the answer to that.
Let's start with who owns this thing.
Well, according to the airfield manager, Mr. Mudge,
it belongs to a Chuck Ames,
but he's on vacation in Hawaii.
Hi, Mr. Mudge.
I'm Detective Kate Beckett.
Now is anyone else authorized to fly that bird?
Not that I'm aware of.
Looks like just about anybody
can have access to this airfield.
There's no checkpoints, no cameras.
We never needed any till now.
The point is, if someone did get on to this property,
how hard would it be for them to fly that chopper outta here?
Anybody with a helicopter rating could take it up.
R-44 is easy.
You don't even need a key to start it.
So then we're looking for someone
that knew the ins and outs of this airport
along with the fact that that chopper was gonna be here.
Maybe even someone who knew
that Chuck Ames was gonna be in Hawaii.
We're gonna need Mr. Ames' contact info
along with the names of all of your employees
and everyone who's flown through here in the past year.
Hey, I-I got Christmas lights to hang.
Yeah, and we have a murder to solve.
Now is there any way to know
where the chopper flew last night?
Is there a flight recorder, GPS system?
Again, she's a low-tech bird.
Do you have a record of the fuel that was in the tank?
Fuel log says it was full.
We can figure out how far the chopper flew
by how much fuel was used.
It was down about a fifth of a tank.
The R-44 burns about
4 or 5 miles per gallon,
so it flew about 45 miles.
That's almost exactly
how far it is to Long Island City and back.
Edmund took the cab there
and must have gotten in that chopper.
Okay, let's check all the heliports
in Long Island City and find out where.
I mean, it's bad enough Santa has been murdered.
This will be the first Christmas Eve
in 18 years we haven't spent together.
I mean, it sets a grim precedent.
Dad, you're being dramatic.
Well, you can see your friends anytime.
Well... what if it's just one person,
and he's not really a friend?
Oh.
Oh, a new guy. Okay.
Well, does this, uh,
non-plural non-friend have a name?
- It's Max. - Max.
I met him at the annual Bad Poetry Contest
right before Thanksgiving.
I see.
Well, bring him along. I would love to meet this bad poet.
- Uh, y—meet my dad on Christmas Eve? - Yeah.
Tha-that's way too much pressure.
What pr—pressure to what, eat, drink, and be merry?
It'll be—
Max is going to London with his family on Christmas day.
I won't get to see him till after break.
We just want to go ice skating in the park.
Yeah. Of course. Of course. Go.
Have a great time.
Besides, you'll be with Beckett.
Right.
Oh, and don't worry.
I'll be home in bed before Santa comes.
Right.
Oh, Captain Gates.
Y-yes, what is it?
I just wanted to make sure that you got this
before you took off for the holidays.
Oh. Well, thank you, Mr. Castle.
Oh, I-I'm sorry.
I don't have anything for you.
Please. Just being here each day is gift.
I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate
all that you do,
you and Detective Beckett.
Mr. Castle, I am on my way uptown
to meet my mother-in-law
to have tea and eat those tiny freakin' sandwiches.
So why don't you just say what's on your mind?
I'm just so worried about Detective Beckett.
I mean, she works so hard.
Don't you think she deserves a little holiday?
Isn't there someone else who could take
that Christmas Eve shift?
First of all, how I schedule my people
is not your concern.
And having said that,
Detective Beckett volunteered to take the shift.
Oh. When did she do that?
Earlier today.
She came to me and asked to take Detective Eldin's shift.
He has a family, and she doesn't.
Okay, then.
Problem solved.
Okay, so that narrows it down to five heliports
in Long Island City.
One is a police station. One's a hospital.
They'd both be monitored, so that leaves helipads at
Bankcorp Building,
One West Hotel, and Case Commerce Building.
Case Commerce... CC.
Case Commerce. CC.
That's where Edmund was.
Let's find out why.
Hey, Castle.
You coming?
Yeah, sure.
Oh, you can't escape it.
Christmas is everywhere.
So much pressure to have a good time.
Are you okay?
Why wouldn't I be?
Case Commerce. There it is.
Hi. Wait, uh, what's going on here?
Looks like a heist occurred at the office Christmas party
- last night. - A heist?
Well, I-I didn't notice
anything was missing until this morning.
- And that's when I called you people. - You didn't happen to have
a Santa working your party, did you?
Yes, we did.
Did he look like this?
Yes.
He was our Santa. Why?
Looks like our Santa was a little more naughty than nice.
No, I never saw him before last night.
And I wasn't aware he'd stolen anything.
But given what we do here,
I suppose it could've been a lot worse.
And what is it that your company does, Mr. Case?
Investment services. Asset management mostly.
Given the amount of client and account information,
we'd be a gold mine for identity thieves.
None of those systems were touched.
So what did they steal?
A clock from his office in back.
I'm sorry. Did you just say "clock"?
Not just any clock, Detective. An early Tomas Tilledge.
Oh.
Legendary clockmaker from the Restoration Period.
That must have been worth a great deal.
I had it appraised at $30,000.
Wow. How big was it?
It's about this size.
Small enough to fit in his sack.
You know, it's hard enough imagining
one of my guests being a thief, but Santa?
Are you sure that nothing else is missing?
Positive. Why?
Well, because our evidence suggests that your Santa
left by helicopter, which was waiting on your helipad.
Why would he take a helicopter?
You didn't hear anything from the party?
No, but the music was loud,
and the back wall is soundproofed.
Was there anything else that was special about this clock?
Not that I'm aware of.
Okay, I'm gonna get one of my detectives
to come down and interview your staff.
In the meantime, could I have a list
of all of the party attendees?
- Sure. - Of course.
We'll also pull elevator footage
to make sure that there weren't any uninvited guests.
$30,000.
That's a little more
than the Cabots needed for their lawsuit.
Maybe our Santa is Robin Hood,
stealing from the rich to give to the poor?
Yeah, but why would he use a helicopter to steal this?
I mean, he could've just stuffed it in his sack
and ho-ho-ho'ed outta there.
It has to be about more than just the clock.
Well, there were a couple more clocks on his workbench.
Maybe this one's significant somehow.
Okay. What's your theory?
Uh... treasure map inside.
No.
No. The clock was commissioned by a secret society
to count down the end of days—
a secret society of Santas,
who are the guardians of time.
Oh-ho! Oh, that's good.
Okay, putting aside the mystery of the helicopter,
let's say it is about the clock.
How did Edmund know about it?
Nobody from the office recognized him.
Well, maybe he had worked the party before.
Sorry, bro. I checked.
He hasn't,
but he sure was determined to work it this year.
The agency had booked another Santa to work that party,
but someone from Case Commerce
called about a week ago to cancel.
Let me guess. No one actually called from Case.
- Ding ding. - And when he arrived,
they assumed he was the Santa they'd hired.
Kind of a brilliant scam, really.
You have access to high-end homes and businesses,
and who's gonna distrust Santa?
Uh, his partners, apparently.
No honor among thieves, even Santa thieves.
All right. Have Robbery send that photo to pawnshops
and auction houses.
If his partners try to cash in, I want to know.
Absolutely.
A man leaves his life
and a high-paying job to become the neighborhood saint
only to get shot dead after stealing a clock
that's worth less than your average car,
and then he gets thrown out of a helicopter
that he didn't even need to be in in the first place.
It makes no sense.
Given everything that we know about this guy,
this is completely out of character.
Well, sometimes people do inexplicable things.
There's an explanation for everything.
Is there?
You volunteered to take Eldin's shift.
Don't pretend.
If you aren't ready, why not just tell me?
I'm sorry, Castle. I didn't mean to—
You didn't mean to what?
Christmas means something different to me
than it does to you.
It's Christmas. I mean, how can it be different?
Castle, every winter, as soon as that chill rolls in,
I am right back there in that alley.
January 9th, and we still haven't taken
our Christmas decorations down.
And by the time my dad and I did,
it was like we were putting Christmas away forever.
We haven't opened those boxes since.
I didn't know.
That's why, every year,
my dad goes up to his cabin,
and ever since I became a rookie,
I have taken the Christmas shift,
because I know that there are families out there
that are celebrating together in their homes,
and I am keeping watch, and that is my tradition.
And that is important to me.
It's as important as your tradition is to you.
And I'm sorry, Castle.
I thought I could let that go,
but I...
I understand.
Beckett.
Yeah, so I got a custodian
who was up on the roof last night for a smoke.
Did he see anything?
Well, it's not what he saw. It's what he found.
The place was cleaned earlier in the day,
but when he got up there, there was trash
blown all over the helipad,
probably from the rotor wash when it took off.
- What kind of trash? - The kind that looked like someone
had been waiting for someone—
soda can, candy wrappers,
and an empty pouch of pipe tobacco.
Pipe tobacco?
Now who do we know
that smokes a pipe and flies?
And remember,
when you go out there,
Santa does not enter through the chimney.
He enters through the heart.
What about through a helicopter?
Hmm?
What are you doing?
- Ho! - Put that down.
- Ho! - Are you crazy?
- Ho! - Hey!
Ho!
Ohh!
Merry Christmas to all...
And to all a good night.
I already told you where I was,
and it wasn't in any helicopter.
Yeah, about that.
We checked the photos from the Harlem Youth Club.
The Santa that was there was not you.
Where were you that night, really?
Let me help you.
I just got off of the phone with Chuck Ames,
the guy that owns that helicopter,
and he said that you've rented it from him before.
So I know the guy. So what?
You got no proof that I was in that helicopter that night.
That's because you wiped it down when you brought it back.
But you took something with you, didn't you?
We found this in your apartment.
Care to revise your statement?
Let me help you again.
Edmund figured out a way to make a quick score
for you both.
He worked the party,
and you were the getaway flier.
And then when he got back into the chopper,
you decided you wanted it all for yourself.
All what? All he had was that damn clock.
Not just any clock.
A Tomas Tilledge worth $30,000.
That crap is worth 30 grand?
You didn't know that?
No, I— and I didn't kill him.
Come on, Dave. You just admitted to being there.
All right! I was there.
Ed said he'd pay me 2 grand
to fly the chopper to that building,
wait while he loaded something on, and take off,
and it wasn't no clock.
He wanted to know how much extra weight
the chopper could handle.
What was he planning on taking?
For 2 grand, I didn't ask.
I just flew to the helipad and waited.
Then all of a sudden, here comes Edmund,
running out on the roof with the clock,
yelling, "Go! Go! Go!"
Next thing I know, we're taking fire.
- Someone was shooting at you? - Hell, yeah.
They nailed Edmund just as he boarded the chopper.
Did you see who it was?
No, it was dark.
I just cowboyed the hell out of there.
But poor Ed.
I kept yelling to him to close the damn door,
but when I turned back, he was already dead.
The chopper banked hard. Before I knew it,
he was gone.
Well, if Dave is telling the truth,
the shooter was in that building.
Not just in the building.
The only access to the helipad is through Case Commerce,
which means our killer was at the party.
Okay, but what was Edmund doing?
What was he planning on stealing that weighed so much?
And why would he take that stupid clock?
It makes no sense.
It makes even less sense now.
We were running through elevator security footage
and we found one person who went up to the party
who wasn't on the guest list.
The neighbor kid— Tim Cabot?
And look what he's holding.
A motorcycle helmet.
So he was the one that followed Edmund
on the motorcycle that night.
Kid's got a record, too— B&E, assault, possession.
Yeah, but what the hell was he doing there?
I think I may have an answer.
Remember that class-action suit against Suncove Funding?
Yeah.
My contact at the SEC dug these up.
Suncove's original articles of incorporation,
showing the name of the account signatory.
Look familiar?
"James Edmund Smith," the victim.
Santa is the shark
who bilked those people out of their homes?
He has more blood on his hands than that.
Tim Cabot's father died in a car crash.
Fell asleep at the wheel working three jobs
to pay his inflated mortgage, courtesy of Edmund Smith.
That was Christmas Eve, five years ago.
The Christmas that Edmund walked out on his life.
So...
It's a tale of redemption.
Edmund moves next door
to the family whose lives he destroyed,
dedicating his life to repairing theirs,
never telling them who he really is.
But what if Tim found out?
Then it's a very different tale.
I'm sorry, Mrs. Cabot,
but we need to speak to your son.
Your mom doesn't know, does she?
But you do.
You knew who he was,
and how he ruined your lives.
Yeah.
Yeah, I-I knew.
Tim, wh—
It was, Ed, mom.
He was Suncove. He's the one who bled us dry.
Ed? Our Ed?
You must have been pretty angry when you found out.
Hell, yeah, I was angry.
When he told me, I wanted to kill him.
But I didn't.
Wait.
He told you?
Yeah. Last week.
He asked for my forgiveness
and he said he wanted to make things right.
The lawyer was gonna drop the lawsuit,
but Ed said he couldn't sit by anymore.
He knew where there was evidence that could win our case,
but he needed my help.
What kind of help?
I'm good with locks, all right?
He needed me to slip in to the party with the waitstaff
and Jimmy open the storage room door in back.
And why didn't you tell us this before?
Because I couldn't get in trouble again.
I need to be here for my mom.
What was in the storage room?
Files. Boxes of 'em.
Edmund said that they were the original,
unaltered loan docs from Suncove.
They were the evidence he needed to set things right.
One of his old partners must be at Case Commerce.
He recognized Edmund,
realized he was going after those files.
And that's why he needed the helicopter.
He couldn't exactly cart them out the front door.
And with the cops all over the building,
it would've been risky for the killer to destroy them.
Which means they're still there.
Along with our killer.
I tried to stop them, but they had a warrant.
What the hell is this all about?
We were about to ask you the same thing.
I'm telling you,
I've never seen those files in my life.
So then what were they doing
in your office storage space, Mr. Ccase?
I don't have the slightest idea.
Are we really gonna play this game,
where you deny things that you and I both know are true?
Like you telling me
that you didn't know Edmund?
We ran a background check.
You and Edmund were business associates.
So why would you claim that you didn't know him
unless you were hiding something,
like your involvement with Suncove Funding?
Did the two of you talk about how much money you could make
if you could just bend the rules,
how easy it would be to forge documents
to put people into mortgages that they couldn't afford,
and how you could make a quick buck
by selling them off to investors?
There's nothing in those files that can implicate me,
and nothing to tie me to Suncove Funding
or to that man's death.
That clock that was stolen, where did it come from?
I'm not sure. I'll have to ask my decorator.
Don't bother. We already have documents
that prove it belonged to the Cabots.
Who are the Cabots?
One of the families whose house you stole.
They put that clock up as collateral against a loan,
and when they couldn't make the payments,
Suncove Funding kept it,
and that...
connects you to Suncove.
When you saw Edmund that night,
you realized that he was going after the files
because he was gonna blow the whistle on Suncove.
You knew that Edmund could implicate you,
so you killed him.
No. You're wrong.
The US Attorneys' Office would freeze your assets.
They would seize all of your money.
You were gonna lose everything.
Now that is motive, that is opportunity,
and that is enough for any jury to convict you.
I did not kill Edmund.
But I know who did.
She was here.
She stopped by the party.
You must be kidding me? Why would I kill him?
Because he couldn't live with himself any longer,
with what he had done,
which meant that he was gonna take away
the one thing that he left you after the divorce—
your lifestyle,
paid for by Suncove profits.
He didn't come to you to apologize that night, did he?
He came to warn you, because he knew
that if he blew the whistle on Suncove,
you stood to lose everything.
This is absurd.
You knew where he was going and you knew why.
So you followed him to the rooftop,
and then you shot him.
I was at the benefit.
We know you were at Case Commerce.
We have a witness. You killed Edmund.
When he left me, he told me, he never wanted to hurt me.
That's what people always say
right before they hurt you.
Yes, he left me my lifestyle.
Five years later, he shows up on my doorstep,
telling me again how he doesn't want to hurt me.
You know what the worst part is?
Just for a moment, when he stood there that night,
I was happy to see him.
You got to admire the guy.
Sacrificed everything to redeem himself.
It's too bad his past caught up with him.
Still, those files are on their way
to the US Attorneys' Office.
Now the Cabots have a real shot at getting back what they lost.
Along with the 42 other families,
all because of Edmund.
Speaking of people having their homes stolen...
Is that your mother-in-law again, Sir?
Detective, if you happen to receive a report
of a homicide tonight at my address,
do me a favor.
- Ignore it. - Yes, Sir.
Well, Castle. Looks like you might have been right.
Maybe there is a Santa Claus after all.
Whether there's a Santa Claus or not,
that's not why I love Christmas.
When I was a kid,
no matter how bad things got,
my mother always managed to make Christmas Eve magical.
Every year she would put on "The Nutcracker Suite."
And I thought, if she can do that in our tiny apartment
when money was tight and we were alone,
it gave me hope that things could get better.
I love that feeling, that sense of hope.
It's crazy, you know?
On the shortest, darkest days of the year,
people of all faiths celebrate the light.
Plus, who doesn't love presents?
Merry Christmas.
You, too.
What you still doing here?
Shouldn't you be at home,
stuffing your wife's stocking?
I don't think I'm ready, Javi.
For what, sex?
No, for what sex leads to.
We're putting up the tree the other day,
Jenny says to me,
"It just doesn't feel like Christmas without kids."
She wants to try.
But I come to work,
I watch the news every day...
It seems like the world's falling apart.
How am I supposed to bring a kid into that?
The world's always falling apart, bro,
since the beginning of time.
But having kids, making a family,
that's what keeps it together.
So go home.
Make a baby.
You're ready.
Yeah.
Thanks, bro.
Merry Christmas.
Yeah. Merry Christmas.
Mother, the glogg is excellent.
- And... - Thank you.
Everything looks excellent.
Just like always.
Oh, Richard, Richard, darling,
you don't have to look so miserable.
Oh— she's right, dad.
We know how much this tradition means to you.
So we both decided to cancel our plans.
We're here all night,
like always.
I love you both so much that you would do that for me.
But I was wrong about tonight.
There's someplace I need to be.
- Dad, I— - Go.
Go, go, go.
I...
Uh... I was just coming to see you.
I was coming to see you.
What about your shift?
I got Karpowski to cover.
What about your family tradition?
I was just thinking, it's time for a new tradition.
Me, too.
Oh, for God sakes,
Richard, invite the girl in.
Right. Would you...
Yeah.
It's beautiful.
Merry Christmas.
I didn't get you anything.
What?
Mrs. Cabot?
I'm Detective Esposito.
I have something that I think
belongs to you.
We found out that your husband put that up for collateral
against the mortgage on your house.
I haven't seen this for so long.
It was handed down through his family for generations.
I think that's why Edmund took it.
He wanted you to have it back.
Thank you.
Wait.
Why don't you come inside? We're just having dinner.
Okay.
Sync by YYeTs.com Corrections by Alex1969 www.addic7ed.com