Oh, Frank.
You're so bad.
You sure about this?
- What if somebody sees us? - Relax, baby.
I got it all under control.
Yeah.
What do we have here?
Harry Lashley, a junior VP with the company.
He's the son-in-law of the boss, A.P. Caid.
The receptionist, Miss Duane, forgot her phone, came back to get it...
found him like this. - She called Security. I was working late.
Called 911 as soon as I got here.
I then opened up Mr. Caid's office to check that nothing was amiss.
I have an all-access pass. Well, come on.
Only one thing was missing, but it's the most valuable painting he owns.
A.P. Picked it up at an auction a couple months ago.
Paid a little over 50 million.
But you said that these doors were closed before you got here?
The office is locked up when A.P.'s not here.
It's a strict rule that A.P. Has when he's gone.
And Mr. Lashley, what would he have been doing here?
No idea. His office is two floors down.
- He had no reason to be here. - Maybe he was involved.
If we're lucky, we'll find the weapon. This was obviously well-planned.
- Why is that obvious? - Nobody finds themselves...
in a locked room full of old masters in the middle of the night by accident.
So, well-planned.
But they weren't expecting to meet any opposition...
otherwise Mr. Lashley here would've been shot or Tasered...
or tied up and gagged.
But when they were surprised by him, they simply hit him on the head.
Which suggests an improvised weapon, yeah?
- I'm listening. - Yes. Something like...
I predict Forensics will find traces of Harry Lashley on this bust.
No offense, but I used to be police myself...
and that's not police work, that's guessing.
- Carl, bag this for me. - Yes, sir.
Frank, is there a good diner around here?
Uh. Yeah. Garrity's. A couple blocks over on Madison.
- Do they do good eggs? - I guess.
That's the test of a good diner. Eggs.
You must've had a contentious relationship with your father.
Excuse me? No.
Tell me, I can't tell with the hair in her face, and the sobbing...
but I imagine Miss Duane's quite attractive, isn't she?
I mean, receptionists are often hired for their looks.
What are you talking about?
- Where are you going with this? - This way.
Look at the seams.
These shoulder seams here are pulled apart.
And the way he's lying so straight like this.
- And that shoe that has come off. - Yeah, we all noticed.
- Somebody must've dragged him here. - But dragged him from where? And why?
Care to tell us, Frank?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Oh. All right, then let me explain.
You and Miss Duane came here to have sex in the boss's office.
Why would I do such a stupid thing?
Because it's forbidden and thus very sexy, of course.
Especially if you have father issues. And who doesn't?
It's a furtive but powerful challenge to the paternal authority.
So you open up A.P.'s office, and then:
"Crap, there's a dead body. What are we gonna do?"
You gotta report it, but how do you explain your presence in his office?
You drag the body out...
and lock the doors back up before calling the police.
- Who is this guy? - He's a pain in the ass.
He's making sense. You sure you don't wanna change your statement?
- No. - Oh, please, Frank.
It'd be silly to deny it.
Five minutes in the room with the persuasive Agent Cho...
and Miss Duane will tell all.
- Back off, man. - I want to, believe me.
I have zero interest in your sex life. One thing occurs to me:
A room like this would have security cameras in it.
- Yeah? - Yes.
But surely you wouldn't knowingly record yourself...
making love on the boss's carpet.
You'd have to know that the cameras were off.
You turned them off, being the head of Security.
They are off, aren't they, Frank?
So the question now is, Frank, how long have they been off...
and who else might've known they were gonna be off?
You guys can take it from here. I am starving.
I gotta get me some eggs. Garrity's, right?
- Thanks. - You ready to tell us the truth?
Hey, look at this.
It's known as The Moro, from 14th century Italy.
It's a portrait of somebody named Carlotta Moro.
It's the only known works of an artist known as the Sienese Master.
It's been owned by two popes, the king of France...
and John Jacob Astor, among others.
Then A.P. Caid bought it for $50 million three months ago.
What do we know about Caid?
Apart from he's an idiot with his money?
Like the cover says:
Got his start as a roughneck in the oil fields...
then turned into a wildcatter and made a fortune.
His trick's pulling oil out of places nobody else has the balls to go.
- Where is he now? - Somewhere on a sailboat.
He's been told what's going on. He's coming back.
It would've been easy for him to sail up the Coast...
put into a small marina, then come back and commit the crime.
Why would he do that?
I'm saying he could. Maybe he wants the insurance money.
Or he wants to get rid of Harry.
Did you check with Caid's security team?
Everybody that didn't wear a suit knew about Frank and his use of A.P.'s office.
Any number of people might've known the cameras were off.
Sounds like we're gonna have to check out any number of people.
- Where's Jane? - I don't know.
Well, find him. I'm gonna go and talk to Lashley's wife.
You guys give Caid's personnel files a good hard look.
See if there's any criminal connections.
- Especially Harry Lashley. - You think he's dirty?
Well, he's involved.
Why else would he be there in the middle of the night?
It doesn't feel real.
If it wasn't for you people, I wouldn't believe it.
Harry's going to walk through the door, and this is all just a strange dream.
But here you are. Harry's dead.
When was the last time you spoke to him?
Yesterday afternoon. Just chitchat. Where to go for dinner.
Then he left me a message canceling. Didn't say why.
That wasn't unusual? Canceling without giving any reason?
No. Harry was very hard-working. Very keen.
Stuff would come up all the time.
What was his job here, exactly?
Good question.
He was a sort of jack-of-all-trades for my father.
Did whatever he needed from week to week.
My father liked having someone on hand...
with no ties or friendships within the company.
That's a tough assignment.
Yes.
But he only joined the company when we were married.
- He was learning the ropes. - Your father didn't want Harry...
to have a soft ride just because he was your husband.
You could put it like that.
- What was his previous employment? - He was a musician.
- Jazz guitarist. - Yes.
- How did you know that? - I looked at his fingers. Guitarist fingers.
Jazz with a flamenco edge, judging by the ridge on his thumb.
Yes.
He was playing a gig at one of these ghastly events you have to go to...
and you struck up a conversation.
You love jazz, so you could talk with him easily...
which normally is quite difficult for you, outside of business.
I... Well, yes, that's... But...
I'm sorry, Miss Caid. He's just showing off.
Can you think of any reason why Harry would've been on this floor...
at that time of night?
No.
He would've known that neither I nor my father were here.
So?
I understand, from my assistant, that Frank's misbehavior...
was an open secret amongst the junior staff.
He's no longer a Caid employee.
Perhaps Harry had found out, and he was trying to catch him.
Perhaps.
Or is it possible that he had prior knowledge...
that the theft was gonna take place?
You're asking if he could've been complicit in the theft?
- Yes, I am. - No.
He was honest and gentle. No.
He never talked to you about the painting?
No. I didn't approve of buying it.
Fifty million dollars is far too much money...
to spend on a single object.
When it comes to art, rational arguments don't apply for him.
That would be Kathryn Hawkes' area of expertise.
Kathryn Hawkes? She is?
She buys the art for my father's collection.
It's a terrible tragedy. Terrible.
- Did you know Mr. Lashley? - Not well.
I mean, I knew of him, obviously, but...
- Poor man. It's very sad. - But you think the loss of the painting...
is the real tragedy here. - Well, no.
Every human life is a sacred thing.
But The Moro is a uniquely beautiful treasure.
- Beyond precious. - You know the art market.
Who'd be willing and able to steal such a high-end piece?
Worldwide, there's probably a good hundred collectors...
with the resources and passion enough to do something like this.
But it's public knowledge that Mr. Caid outbid Shirali Arlov to get The Moro.
- And Mr. Arlov was not pleased. - Shirali Arlov, the Russian oil baron?
Him.
Arlov is a nasty piece of work.
He has a legit front as an oilman, but he's a super-rich gangster, basically.
He likes his business rivals to be delivered to him hogtied...
so he can kill them personally.
Vicious, greedy, and the owner of the finest collection...
of Renaissance paintings in Russia.
- Our kind of guy. - Talk to the Organized Crime boys.
Find out who Arlov's connections are, who he would use for a job like this...
and where they were last night. - You got it, boss.
- What do you have? - Harry Lashley has a past.
Ten years ago, in Canada, he stole cash from a video store he was working at.
- Busted, and served six months. - Damn. I was hoping he was clean.
Yeah, I know.
Then I tried to find any connection he had to the art world. This popped up.
A month ago, he paid a company called R.W. Arts $20,000.
That's the only financial transaction he's made recently.
- What's R.W. Arts? - I don't know yet. A shell, probably.
The address is just a mailbox in Lockesdale.
- Little farming town up north. - That's interesting.
Let's, Van Pelt and I, go up and take a look-see.
You and Van Pelt?
Well, she's from a small farming town. Aren't you?
Yes, I am.
Right. Well, that's what you guys call... What is it? Cover.
What do you need cover for? You're a CBI operative.
I thought I was a "consultant."
Just follow procedure. Have fun.
Where's the fun in that?
Shall we?
How cute is this?
Sure doesn't look like the lair of high-end art thieves.
Not at all. Flowers and fruit.
"Rob Wallace Gallery and Framing."
Bingo.
Let's not start with the badge.
Let's get the lay of land first, then we use the badge if we have to.
Okay.
- But don't embarrass me. - What do you mean?
You know what I mean.
No. What do you mean?
- Morning, folks. - Hi.
Look around. Make yourself at home.
Will do.
- Hi. - Hi.
I know what you're thinking.
You do?
You're thinking my fiancée's a lot younger than me.
- Oh, no. - Well, she is.
I'll let you in on a little secret. I was her college professor.
Seduced her.
- No kidding? - Mm-hm. Parents hated it. Lot of drama.
- Totally worth it, though, right, babe? - Okay, that's what I mean.
Come on, stop it.
Oh, that's good. He's good.
Wow. Think you could do a portrait of my fiancée?
- No. - Yeah, you bet.
- No. - Who's the boss in this relationship?
He's just playing the fool.
Stop it now.
Okay, turn just a little to your left.
There. Good.
Looks good.
Just make sure you don't do her eyes too close together.
Um... Um...
I'm sorry. I'm getting in your space. Where's your facilities?
- Down the hall, door on the right. - Okay. All right. Okay.
Just not too close, you know? You know what I'm saying.
Yeah.
- Just passing through town, are you? - Yes. Just passing through.
- You have an excellent nose. - Thank you.
- How long have you lived here? - All my life.
Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
That depends, I suppose. Go ahead.
How long have you and Patrick been together?
Um... Not long.
I'm just gonna say it. Are you sure about marrying this guy?
I mean, he kind of appears to be a jerk.
- I mean, no offense. - Oh, no, yes.
I'm not marrying him. That's... No.
Don't worry about that. Not gonna happen.
Hello.
Turn your head just to the left a little bit.
Just a little bit more. A little bit more to your left.
Just a... That's great. Hold that, okay?
Look down. Hold that.
This way I'm gonna have a lot of light on your cheekbones.
You're gonna be so amazed with how good this looks.
Your facial structure.
Okay, stand up.
Put your hands in the air.
Okay.
Move. Move!
Steady. Steady.
Mr. Wallace, if you would just let me show you my badge.
We're from the California Bureau of Investigation.
Our office knows we're here. If you kill us, they'll know who did it.
Kill you? Why would I wanna kill you?
You're cops?
We're investigating the murder of Harry Lashley.
Lashley's dead?
What happened? I...
You might tell us that, considering you have the stolen painting.
No. That's... That's a copy.
Mr. Wallace here is an art forger.
A very, very good one, by the way.
That's a copy. He's not a thief.
- Well, then, give me the shotgun. - Oh.
Mr. Lashley came to me months ago...
and commissioned two copies of The Moro.
How did he find you?
People who need my services tend to find me eventually.
It's not a crime, what I do.
If you have a valuable painting, it's sensible to have a copy made for display.
So that way the real thing's safe.
He picked up the copies about a month ago.
So you gave him two copies already?
- What's this one for? - This one, I did for myself.
It's a beautiful picture. I'd come to love her.
- Why did he want two copies? - He didn't say.
And you didn't ask questions.
He paid me $ 10,000 for each of them...
so, no, I didn't ask any questions.
How do we know this isn't the real thing?
I'm not a forger, I'm an artist.
I'm not trying to trick anyone, okay?
I add a detail that ensures...
that nobody can sell my work as the genuine article.
That's very ethical of you.
It looks exactly the same to me.
No, he's telling the truth. Take a closer look.
- What am I looking for? - Closer.
- Ooh. I still don't... - You're getting warmer.
Oh, a TV aerial.
- Yes. - They didn't have TV.
No. Beautiful work.
- Can I borrow it for a while? - I don't know about that.
How do I know I'm gonna get it back?
Let me put it another way.
Lend it to me or Agent Van Pelt here will take you and the painting...
back to Sacramento...
and ask you mind-numbing questions for hours and hours on end.
Thank you.
Copies, huh? Clever.
Harry and his accomplices steal the painting once...
but they get to sell it three times. - Hey, boss.
A.P. Caid's back from his trip. On his way to his office.
No, no, no. You got it all wrong.
See, I told Harry to get a copy made on the hush-hush.
I mean, what kind of idiot is gonna put $50,000,000 on his wall...
so anybody can steal it? - The painting that was stolen is a fake?
Damn right it was.
Now, the real one is in my private vault.
With all due respect, A.P., the art here is my responsibility.
Kathryn, the fewer people who knew, the better.
Besides, it paid off, didn't it?
Right now, there's some thieving son of a bitch out there...
who spent a whole lot of money on junk.
- Daddy, Harry's dead. - Oh, baby, I know. I'm sorry.
I know, it's too sad, but, you know, I did like that kid.
- Can we see the painting? - You wanna see my baby?
I'll open the vault.
Ain't she a beauty?
- You mind if I take a look here? - No, no, yeah, yeah.
A masterpiece of quattrocento portraiture.
- One of a kind. - Fifty million dollars right there.
That's about $ 10,000 right there. It's a fake.
- The hell it is. - Fake as a six-dollar bill.
- That's not funny, son. - Take a look back here by the trees...
the guys on horseback.
Third one in from the left, next to the footman.
Yeah, yeah, I see the horses.
What do you think, is that an M-16 or Kalashnikov?
- Son of a bitch. - Yeah, I think it's a Kalashnikov.
Son of a bitch. There's...
There's a machine gun. How the hell did you not notice that?
If this bozo here can see it, why couldn't you?
- A.P., I assure you, the painting... - No, no, no.
You're the one who has the good eye. You brought me a fake.
Mr. Caid, I can state with absolute certainty...
the painting which I purchased for you and placed in your hands was genuine.
I have the documents to prove it.
If you chose to engage in some clever subterfuge without my knowledge...
I can hardly be blamed for the results.
- Excuse me. - Harry.
That son of a bitch Harry. He switched out the real painting for the fake one.
Then bludgeoned himself to death? You have no basis for that.
Probably one of his crackhead musician friends.
You don't know that. That's not fair.
Were you aware he spent time in prison?
Six months for theft in Canada 10 years ago.
Yes.
I mean, no, I didn't. I'm sure it doesn't...
Yeah, I'm sure it's not... It was 10 years ago.
I knew it. I knew this guy was no good for you.
I could feel it. But I kept quiet, didn't I?
For your sake, I forced myself to trust this guy...
because you finally had yourself a man.
He stole $50,000,000 from me.
Damn it, Stevie.
Please, I beg you, find my husband's murderer.
That's what we're trying to do, ma'am.
They'll tell you the truth. I want the truth.
You can go now.
That's all we need at the moment. We'll be in touch.
Right.
I hate to be blunt, Mr. Caid, but you're just...
- Let's... Oh, no, you don't. - We'll talk later.
Harry has copies made, but doesn't hang one...
to disguise the robbery. Why? - Part of the plan.
Everyone has to know the painting's stolen for him to sell.
- The painting has to be missing. - He makes the switch...
steals the real painting off the wall...
knowing Frank has turned the cameras off.
So who kills him, then?
Whoever delivered the painting to a buyer.
Harry outlived his usefulness the minute he used his security pass.
Well, we just heard from the organized crime boys about Shirali Arlov.
- We did? - Yeah. The good news is...
he's in California. L.A. Arrived a couple days ago.
- That can't be a coincidence. - The bad news?
The bad news is he's traveling on a diplomatic passport.
We cannot touch him under any circumstances.
- Just ask him a couple questions. - State Department was clear. Keep away.
Arlov controls an oil pipeline route this country needs.
It's a national-security issue.
Another argument for energy independence there.
- Where's he staying? - I repeat, do not touch.
Oh, no. No touching.
I promise.
Nope, nyet, no. Minelli said no too. That's four noes.
- Minelli always says no. It's his job. - It's my job to listen to him.
You'd walk away? If Arlov is our man, you'd let him get away with murder?
He didn't murder. He probably bought the painting from the murderer.
We'll never know.
We're not causing an international scandal.
- Arlov's the key. - I wanna get Harry Lashley's killer...
as much as you do, but we cannot go after Arlov.
- The State... - The State Department.
I agree. Screw them.
That attitude is why I'm in charge and you guys aren't.
Would you please leave some of those for everybody else?
They're so small.
I just don't understand why a law officer can't go after a known criminal.
Man, damn right.
If we left now, we could be in L.A. Before dark.
What?
Tell Cho to meet us in the parking lot in 10 minutes.
- Hello? - You ready?
- Yeah. - Are you ready?
I'm ready. What's the signal?
- "She is beautiful." - Good.
Let's do this.
I'd like to speak to Mr. Arlov, please.
Hi.
Could you tell Mr. Arlov Patrick Jane is here?
I have the Moro portrait that was stolen a couple of days ago.
I'd like to sell it to him.
Thank you.
Good evening.
Please sit.
World's Best Collisions. You know this show?
- No. - You should check it out. It's...
It's very amusing and educational.
It's a lesson for us all. Anytime, anyplace, boom:
- Your life can be over. - That's very true.
Mm-hm.
- Would you like a drink? A snack? - Uh, yes.
Sparkling water, please.
No ice. Room temperature.
Oh, and in a tall glass, please.
- Where is everyone? - Weird, they all called in to sign out.
Jane wasn't feeling well, Rigsby's got a hot date, and Cho got Kings tickets.
- Son of a... - What?
Jane doesn't get sick, Rigsby's in love with you...
and the Kings aren't playing. - You know that?
They're on an East Coast trip, playing the Knicks.
No, Rigsby. How do you know about that?
Everybody knows that. The attorney general knows that.
- I'm so embarrassed. - Please.
Pick up the phone, damn it.
Thank you.
So...
Mr. Patrick Jane.
You have a painting you want to sell me?
The Carlotta Moro?
- Yes. - I don't believe you.
- Would you like to take a look? - Sure.
- Are you mad? - No, just kidding.
Kidding. It's just a prop to get me into the room.
- I'm aware you have the real painting. - Really?
You are aware.
And how are you aware of this?
A guess.
Confirmed by a predatory smile on your face...
when you asked me about it just then.
You enjoy trapping people in nets of their own making, don't you?
- That's... That's very perceptive of you. - Not really.
Most successful criminal bosses share a similar profile.
Sadistic and violent...
but also highly methodical and psychologically astute.
Why are you here, Mr. Jane?
I'm a detective of sorts.
- Explain. - I'm trying to find out...
who killed Harry Lashley. - Who?
The man who died in the course of the theft.
Oh, yes, yes. I recall. Poor fellow.
If you're looking for a bribe, I'm afraid you're running out of luck.
You see, I...
You do understand that I have immunity from prosecution in this country.
I know, I know. No touching.
I show you my identification to discourage you...
from killing me or torturing me or something.
You might not get arrested for it, but you sure will make a fuss.
Oh, I don't mind fuss, you know.
- Anything to avoid boredom. - Given your immunity...
you could tell me who you bought the painting from.
Inform to the police? Why on earth would I do that?
Harry Lashley didn't deserve to die.
He has a wife who needs to know what happened.
She deserves justice.
Are you serious? She deserves justice.
Perhaps you haven't paid the full price of the painting yet.
Perhaps an arrest would save you some money.
Well, that's not a bad thought.
But you see, I love my art collection. I love beauty.
It's why I do what I do, you know.
Who will want to sell to me if I start sending my suppliers to jail?
True.
Well, I thought it was worth a try.
Thank you. I'm sorry for wasting your time.
Oh, no, no, no. Not at all, not at all.
You are a very strange kind of policeman.
- It's been most diverting. - Could I see it before I leave?
The Moro. I'm told it's very beautiful.
Oh, you appreciate art, huh?
Well, why not? Of course.
- What's happening? - Soon. Get ready.
Here you go. Look at that. It's an Italian silk merchant's wife.
Six hundred years old, it's... And it's alive. It's immortal.
May I?
- Please. - Thanks.
Now I understand why you went to such lengths to get her.
She is beautiful.
Now.
This is a fire alarm.
Will all hotel guests move toward the nearest fire exit.
Everybody out.
This is a fire alarm.
Out. Out. Out. Please, out.
Out. Out. Out.
Will all hotel guests...
Out.
- Well? - Well?
Yes.
- Better call Lisbon. Give her an update. - You call her.
- I can't, I'm driving. Cho. - No way.
Oh, come on, guys. I just robbed a Russian mobster, you can't call Lisbon?
- Are you gonna be grumpy in the room? - Yes, I am.
Just asking. I don't think it's very professional.
- Seriously, don't push me. - I said I'm sorry.
You had express orders to stay away from Arlov.
- You have total deniability. - That's beside the point.
The point is my brilliant plan worked like clockwork.
What plan? This case isn't closed. You haven't done anything yet.
Not yet, but you watch.
No, I disagree. Mm-hm.
Morning.
I'll get back to you.
Ta-da.
What the hell?
You got it back.
Bring her to me. Oh, baby.
This is fabulous. Was it Arlov? Did he have it?
- Yes, it was. - How did you get it back?
Oh, um...
- I stole it. - Are you serious?
There was nothing we could do legally, as you said.
Arlov was in possession of a stolen painting...
so there was nothing he could do either.
This gets better and better.
First of all, I get the painting back.
Second, when Arlov finds out that I've got it, it'll kill him.
Who cares about Arlov?
Who cares about the damn painting?
You assured me you would find Harry's killer.
We're doing everything we can, but there's not a lot left for us.
Look, Stevie, I know you loved him.
I liked him too, but he was part of this theft.
Now, he betrayed me.
In a way, this is a good thing that he's gone.
Because you could be having children with this bum right now.
All right? You think of that. We dodged a bullet.
Come on. Give me a hug.
Look, we're gonna find you a good man.
The main thing is we sent out a message here...
that nobody messes with A.P. Caid.
Thank you. Thank you.
I had a daughter once.
She died.
Killed. It was my fault.
I know that a man who treats his daughter the way you do is a fool.
- Jane. - What'd you say?
Your child is hurting and you're crowing over this victory...
like a cockerel on a dung heap.
You're a blind, vain, emotionally stunted fool.
You care more about this...
For this painting, for all this rubbish. - Than you do the child that loves you.
You found my painting, I am grateful.
And now I'm going to be patient and tell you get this clown out of my office.
How am I gonna make you understand? How am I?
- See this? See this? - Jane, let's...
This is nothing. It's nothing.
- Hey. - No. No.
- What, are you nuts? - Oh, my God.
Jane. Jane, have you gone crazy?
No, no, no. Just doing my job.
Look. Someone that's dedicated their life to art...
would wanna save a masterpiece from burning up.
Unless you already knew it was just another fake.
No, not at all, I'm just... I'm just shocked, that's all.
- Is it a fake? - Yes, it is.
I only found out after I stole it, but Kathryn knew...
because it was she who stole the original.
And it is she who still has it in her safe possession.
- No. - That true, Kathryn?
- No. - Horrible job you found for yourself.
Helping a greedy egotist snatch up beautiful things...
he has no ability to appreciate.
And you don't get paid much, do you?
All the money, beauty around you, and you can't have any of it.
Very frustrating.
Not at all.
Harry came to you for advice about the painting.
You asked him to make a second copy for your own personal use.
You blackmail him? Huh?
Must've known about the theft conviction in Canada.
Threatened to tell A.P. And destroy the life he was building with Stevie.
Care to comment on that?
- It's all nonsense, A.P. It's all nonsense. - Oh, is it?
The reason you had two copies made so that you could sell one to Arlov...
and you could keep the original picture for yourself.
Because, of course, you're the only one that really deserves it.
It was her? She did it?
Yes. Like I switched the paintings with Arlov...
she switched the original with Harry right before it went into the vault.
All you had to do was come up in here after hours...
and take it off the wall.
But Harry suspected something, didn't he?
He tried to stop you.
And you killed him.
Tell the truth. Our people are going through your apartment right now.
They will find that painting even if they have to tear the place to the ground.
There is no point in lying anymore.
I'm sorry.
I never meant to kill him.
- Why did he try to stop me? - No.
- No, no. No. - It was an accident.
You're under arrest for the murder of Harry Lashley.
- Put your hands behind your back. - I'm so sorry.
Come on, let's go.
For what it's worth, I...
I just wanted to apologize for my pious rant earlier.
I needed a pretext to burn the picture, and your family dysfunction became it.
Well, no, sir. No apology needed.
There was some hard truth in what you said.
Yes, there was. Well, you know, no one likes to be too judgmental.
- Hard to believe it's a fake. - Crazy, isn't it?
One painting's worth 50 million, the other's only worth a few thousand.
They look identical.
Yup. Crazy.
Now that you mention it, I'm not sure...
It's just so hard to keep track after a while.