Cleaned, corrected and missing dashes added by Tronar
Her name's Madeleine Hightower.
She's been running Intelligence in Fresno.
- New boss? - New boss.
Madeleine Hightower.
Chief Deputy AG says she'll be here sometime tomorrow.
Word is she's hard as nails. Political. Tight Statehouse connections.
This is good. Some muscle upstairs.
We'll see.
- No need to be nervous. - I'm not nervous.
You're an exemplary agent. No reason for butterflies.
- No butterflies. I'm fine. - Keep telling yourself that.
How you doing?
Vic Bandino. Alpha-Bravo Residential Security.
- Appreciate your quick response. - Agent Lisbon, Patrick Jane and...
Wayne Rigsby. CBI, huh? You did okay.
Bandino. What's up? We worked a couple cases together back in the day.
- San Diego PD, Arson Squad. - Ha, ha. Boy, those were the times, huh?
- Remember Pismo? - You ever call that chick?
Would you show us the body, Mr. Bandino?
Yes, ma'am. Yeah, of course. Please. He's in the pool house.
Name's James Smithson, 28, British citizen.
He's a high-priced tutor for local kids.
Daughter of the homeowner's one of his students.
Couple months ago they let him move in here.
Rigsby, can you find out why the coroner's not here?
Yeah, sure.
- Who found the body? You? - The homeowner's kid.
She was coming for a lesson. She called her dad.
- He called me. I called you. - Not the local police? Why us, exactly?
What the hell, Vic.
You were supposed to call me...
- ... the second they got here. - Excuse me, sir?
- I'm Hopper Banks. - Agent Lisbon, CBI. This is a crime scene.
- It's my place. - Mr. Banks.
I need you to leave. Can you do that for me?
I'll be in the main house. I'll expect a full report.
Let me know when you get the body out of here.
That's why I called you.
Old California money, lots of clout. Local PD won't cut it. Wants the best.
Coroner's on his way.
A single gunshot.
Judging by the wound, looks like a.38, no weapon.
Don't worry. It's a visual inspection. Didn't touch a thing.
No sign of assault or robbery.
Real fancy résumé, this guy.
Graduated from Eton and Oxford.
Last employer was some hot-shot prep school back east.
- Eh, I wouldn't be so sure. - Excuse me?
The facial scar. Eton boy gets a cut on his head, he needs a plastic surgeon...
he gets a plastic surgeon.
My guess, the whole résumé's a fairy tale.
- Excuse me? - You're excused.
- I checked him out myself. - Well, I'm wrong, then.
Huh.
No blisters or calluses on his hands. Lot of dirt under his fingernails.
- Who is this guy? - It's a long story.
- Mm. - Anything else?
- This place must be alarmed. - Family never turned it on.
I got the call at 3:35.
I was at a client's residence nearby, working an alarm upgrade.
Arrived here at 3:52.
Body was still warm.
I guess the time of death was an hour before that.
- What the hell? - Guess again.
It's called Lazarus syndrome.
Guy's heart caught an electrical charge and restarted.
- Hey, it happens. - So you're saying he's alive?
Well, if you call that living. He's brain-dead.
No oxygen for 10 minutes, he's not coming back.
There's security cameras out there. Have Bandino show you the footage.
- Maybe we'll catch a look at the shooter. - Okay.
I need to talk to the girl who found the body.
You got it.
- What are you looking for? - The dirt under his nails.
Smelled like rosemary.
Ah.
Whatever was inside this box killed our man.
Well, case is practically closed.
There's no reason to be snarky.
It was my wife Jolene, really.
She saw how much James helped Lanie with her school work.
When she heard he needed a place to live, she rented the pool house to him.
I guess he's been here, um...
I don't know, a couple of months maybe.
- Very generous of your wife. - Jolene has a big heart.
Is this her?
- My muse. - Good-looking.
Mm.
She turned me into a real artist.
Before I met her, I was taking snapshots.
Mr. Banks, we're gonna need to talk to your daughter.
I'm sorry. Lanie's too upset to talk at the moment.
Please, maybe later.
- We need to when her memory's fresh. - She saw what you saw.
She went to the pool house for homework help.
- We have to hear that from her. - She found a dead body.
She's 12 years old. Don't you get it?
It's not homework. It's a project about the pyramids.
- I can talk to you. - Thanks, Lanie.
Lanie, sit right here, sweetie.
I'm Agent Lisbon and that's Patrick Jane.
Hi. What do you have to do for the pyramid project?
Describe the afterlife as depicted in the ancient Egyptian mythology.
Ah. As depicted in the ancient Egyptian mythology.
Well, did you know that they believed that when you die...
you were carried into the next life on the back...
of a sacred hippopotamus. That's true.
What time did you get home from school?
A little after 3.
- What did you do? - I made lemonade.
James loves my lemonade.
- Who else was home? - Nobody. Uh, I was at the gallery.
- Jolene was at the gym. - Please.
No one was here.
I took the lemonades to the pool house, and I saw...
so much blood.
Did you see anybody or hear anything? Voices? A car?
Just James.
- I'm taking her upstairs now. - Anybody know what was inside this?
- No. Are we through? - Almost.
Lanie, why didn't your mother want you to speak to us?
- She's not my mother. - Honey, it's okay.
I was protecting her.
She's been through a very traumatic experience.
Oh.
I thought you were worried she's gonna say what you're trying to hide from us.
- How dare you? - Really? How dare I?
Is that the best comeback you've got?
- Are you gonna let this man insult me? - Huh?
Stand there with your mouth open like a moron.
Baby. Baby.
- Really? - Whoo.
Well played.
Yeah. I'm starving.
Got four cameras in the backyard.
We ran the footage from sunup till we got here.
Check this out. Found this at 2:37. Watch the window.
- It's a muzzle flash. - Who was in...?
- What camera had the door? - This is the only image.
Nobody coming in or out or in the yard?
Whoever shot Smithson knew where those cameras were...
and how to avoid them.
This one's mine. If you want one, I can make one for you.
We need to check Jolene and Hopper's alibis.
Hold on a second. None of these cameras are hidden.
Anyone can see them. Guests.
Students coming here for tutoring, their parents.
- Everybody. - Good point.
Thanks for your time, Mr. Bandino.
Thank you. Cheers.
The victim James Smithson doesn't exist.
Passport's fake. His references are bogus.
I ran his prints through all the databases. There's nothing at all.
Your friend Bandino didn't do much of a background check.
That's not like him.
He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he did the legwork.
You think maybe he's holding something back, protecting clients?
- I'll check it out. - Take Van Pelt.
Just stop worrying.
It's gonna be fine with the new boss. Sure...
there'll be a settling-in, when she probes your psyche for weakness...
- ... but once that's out of... - Would you stop? You're so childish.
- I think you're the one who's nervous. - Ooh. That sounds perceptive.
Let me think about that.
No. I find that I'm not. It's definitely you.
I'm gonna talk to Smithson's students, their parents.
- Fill in some of these blanks. - Good idea. Take him with you.
Come on.
My God. It's so terrible.
- Do you have any idea who did it? - We're still investigating.
All the parents and students all say he was a great tutor, but not much else.
- How well did you know Mr. Smithson? - Not that well.
James had only been tutoring my son for three, four months.
I'd drop off, pick up, you know, say hello.
- He seemed nice. - Excuse me, Mrs. Blankman.
I'm sorry. Don't mean to interrupt. I'm a little parched.
- Could I bother you for a cup of tea? - Oh, I'm sorry I didn't offer you.
No, no, no. Please. I can get it. You're shaken.
- Would you like a cup? Cho? - No, thanks.
Your son never mentioned anything? Money problems, anything unusual?
They just studied.
Smelled so good, I went and made you one.
Lemongrass. My favorite.
Yeah, it's funny how smells work.
They attach themselves to such specific memories.
You know, like the kitchen of a childhood home...
or having a cup of tea with a lover.
- Yes. - Yes?
Yes, you and James were lovers?
Yes.
Mm-hm.
Oh, you might not wanna drink that. That's a little funky monkey.
What kind of background check did you do?
The usual. Called his last employer, checked his credit.
James Smithson isn't James Smithson. None of it's true.
There's a limit to what I can do. I'm not the CIA here.
Come on. You used to be more gung ho than that.
That's why I'm not a cop anymore. Too stressful. Unhealthy profession.
- Yeah, no kidding. - Hey, you got anything?
No.
Seriously, you hear about Hank Harrison?
Thirty-nine-years-old, five years out from his pension.
Boom, heart attack. Wife, two kids.
- He had that bachelor party, remember? - No.
Aw, come on. Sure you do.
Stripper was all over his case. Telling you.
I bet she was.
Oh, hey, are you two, like, dating each other?
- No, we're not. - No.
Because you both looked a little weird just now.
No.
We're talking about a murder here.
Yeah. Yeah, hey, look, I'm sorry, all right? Uh, there is one thing.
Couple months ago, Hopper was working on this photo thing...
he, uh, he asked me to get him a gun.
Old-fashioned piece, like the FBI was using in some '60s movie he saw.
- Like a.38? - Yeah, I guess.
We never got to that. Turned him down.
Told him if he wanted it, get a prop gun.
Don't know what he did, but it's worth mentioning.
Yeah. Yeah, it is. Thanks, man. Appreciate it.
- Absolutely. - Thanks for your help.
Yeah, no problem. Hey, listen...
what say you and me go get a cup of coffee?
- No, thanks. - Eh? What's coffee?
- I'm a nice guy, right, Rigs? - See you later, Vic.
So Smithson was a big ladies' man and...
They've both got solid alibis.
Maggie Blankman's husband's been in Reno.
Maggie was at her therapist's from 2 to 4 p.m. Double session.
Jane and I are gonna go to Hopper's gallery, ask about the gun.
Hey.
- Want a coffee? - No, thanks.
- So, what was her name? - Who?
The stripper.
Oh, I...
We could double date. Me and Bandino, you and your stripper.
I thought you...
- That's mean. - Kidding.
Oh, her name was, uh, Kandy. Oh, yeah. Sweet Kandy, with a K.
Oh. Kandy with a K.
Mm-hm.
- Do I own a gun? - Yes, Mr. Banks.
.38, have you ever been in possession of one or owned one?
I never had a gun. Any kind. I don't believe in them.
- You're just not trying hard enough. - I am.
You just can't read minds.
You close your eyes, okay? I'm the boss here. Concentrate.
It's coming to me. Chocolate...
coconut swirl.
Huh?
Vanilla. Pay up.
- That's not funny. - Yeah, it is.
- Hey, Dad, just getting ice cream. - Okay.
Would you mind taking a polygraph test?
- No, why would I do that? - I'll give you this, Hopper.
You have a consistent vision.
A little crazy, but consistent.
I wouldn't expect you to understand what I'm doing.
Let me give it a shot.
You enjoy taking possession of your wife...
but only on camera, not in the flesh.
You were being cuckolded by James Smithson and you let it happen.
Why? Impotence? Masochism?
Homosexuality? I'm not sure.
That's very perceptive, Mr. Jane. You have a talent.
It's just... I do, thanks. It's an easy call.
You're very attractive, but unhappy...
and accustomed to using your sexuality as a weapon.
Use your sexuality as a weapon against him?
Okay, you're done. Now, go.
What does it take to get you mad, Hopper?
- Smithson rub your nose in it? - That's ridiculous.
- What's wrong? - Uh, nothing, honey.
- These people were just leaving. - Yeah, we should leave.
Let's. Yeah.
- How's the ice cream? - Good.
Yeah. Hard to beat vanilla.
I know, I know, you were making stuff up to get the guy angry...
so you could get a read on him. Blah, blah, blah.
Truth is, you just didn't like the guy.
That would be very unprofessional.
- Could you take the next left, please? - Okay. Well, what did you read?
- Did he do it? - Make the next left and I'll tell you.
- Well? - Well, maybe. He had a good motive.
And maybe not. The red box didn't fit.
You picked up a tail?
Cul-de-sac.
Nothing.
You sure?
Ah.
Excuse me?
- Why are you following us? - Following you?
Shoot, I thought California was friendly.
I'm just trying to make a sale here. Life insurance.
Cute young couple like yourselves, you gotta think about the future.
- You got kids yet? - That's a terrible accent.
Disguised British, yes?
Gotta work on your glottal stop.
- His what? - His glottal stop.
Could we see some identification, please?
Uh, sure. It's in the car.
- Hold on, I'll get it. - Oh.
Put your hands on the car, now.
- What's this about? - Turn around.
A stranger asks to see your ID, you ask them to show you theirs first.
Unless, of course, you're trying to hide something.
Hmm.
Quite right. Quite right, Mr. Jane.
Who are you?
Francis Slocombe. Inspector Francis Slocombe.
Scotland Yard, special branch.
Ah.
Thank you.
I can't reach your contact at Scotland Yard.
- Time difference. Tricky one, that. - Yep, Francis Slocombe.
- Registered at the Flamingo Hotel. - Where's Jane?
- Here. - Oh, thanks, lovely.
- Did you check the Liverpool score? - Up 1-nothing. First half.
- Excellent. - Where are the cucumber sandwiches?
I'm being nice. I think he knows what was in this.
What about our search warrant that got killed? For the murder weapon?
- You're not curious? - After your performance...
Banks made some phone calls. Judge Withers won't sign the warrant.
Oops. Sorry. She's a little cranky. New boss coming.
Enough with that. Did his story check out?
- Nope. - About James Smithson.
His real name's Oliver Stans.
Nine months ago, he stole a valuable artifact from the British Museum.
A pristine example of Greco-Roman art circa 50 BC.
A wedding ring, said to belong to Cleopatra, given her by Mark Antony.
- That's what was in the box. - Ah.
Here's a copy from the museum gift shop.
Stans lifted the ring, replaced it with one of those.
What was he doing in the United States?
He knew we were building a case against him. Changed his name, disappeared.
A week ago we picked up chatter...
that a dealer in stolen antiquities was gonna buy the ring here...
and sent someone to pick it up.
May I?
This is Louis Anglet.
Go-to courier in the high-end stolen-art market.
I followed him here to Stans and the ring, but I arrived too late.
That's why I was following you.
Anglet has the ring now. And I need to get back on the trail.
You're not going until your story checks out.
Whoever killed Stans killed him for the ring.
Ron, take Mr. Slocombe to an interrogation room.
- Sit on him while I make a call. - Sure.
Let's go.
Slocombe's right. James Smithson is Oliver Stans.
A few minor arrests. Narcotics possession charge.
Assault, looks like a bar fight.
And a person of interest in the British Museum theft.
Any next of kin?
The hospital called. They need someone to sign off on organ donation.
Uh...
Stans' mother was a single parent. Died three years ago. No siblings.
Cho, come with me. We need to ask Slocombe some questions.
- His gun's gone. - I'll get a search started.
- Ron, can you hear me? - Unh.
FBI says he's Scotland Yard, but he's got nothing to do with this case.
Nine months ago, when the ring was lifted, he went off the reservation.
He's been tracking Stans ever since.
- Mm. - Think he helped...
- ... and Stans double-crossed him? - No. No, Slocombe's just trying...
to get the ring back.
"Why" is the big question.
You two go to his motel. See if you can find anything that'll help us.
Okay.
Hey, no sign of Slocombe. I got a grid search started.
This is perfect. It's perfect.
Agent Lisbon?
- Madeline Hightower. - Special Agent Hightower. Welcome.
- Thank you. - This is Patrick Jane.
The famous Mr. Jane.
- Good to meet you. - You too.
I thought I'd have a nice quiet day today...
but it seems like there's trouble.
We lost somebody.
We're looking for him.
Then I'm sure you'll find him.
Let's talk in my office. Give me a half hour to roll some calls.
Yes, ma'am.
She likes you. I could tell.
I've stayed in worse places.
- That's shocking. - Ooh.
Ah... Oh, wow.
That is a good bed for a motel room.
- Very firm. - Uh-huh.
- You, uh? You wanna try it? - Oh, come on.
What? There's nobody here. We can lock the door.
- Nobody's looking. Come on. - We're on duty.
Yeah, I know. Totally wrong.
Come on.
What?
Hold that thought.
What you got?
Eureka.
Yeah. Eureka. Now, does that mean you can get back here?
- This could be critical evidence. - Yes, it could be.
But unless the critical evidence self-destructs in less than 10 seconds...
I suggest you get yourself back here.
It's critical.
Fine.
Hey. Ahem.
- Room's good. Thank you. - Yeah.
Come in.
Ma'am, I assure you, today's incident was not at all indicative...
of the unit's overall competence.
You had a bad day, Agent Lisbon.
You screwed up. It happens.
Now, let's get to the work.
This judge, the one who changed his mind...
about giving us our search warrant.
Judge Withers, ma'am. He's kind of like a stubborn old bull.
Won't budge once he takes a position.
- I'm trying to get him on the phone. - And he changed his mind because?
He said we hadn't met the threshold.
Not what he said, the real reason.
Patrick Jane insulted Hopper Banks, and Hopper Banks complained.
- Jane has unusual methods, but... - He closes cases.
Yes, he does. He's a valuable asset. We cannot afford to lose him.
The way I see it...
it's you that's in the tricky spot.
Ma'am?
This bureau has seen some tough times lately.
My mission is to turn that around and make CBI...
the premier law-enforcement agency in this state.
Patrick Jane is a huge part of that goal.
If you can't keep him in line, we'll find someone who can.
Yes, ma'am.
You can go.
I'll give Judge Withers a call, get your warrant.
Hey, boss. According to the information Slocombe dug up...
Louis Anglet doesn't just deal in stolen antiquities.
He's a hired gun. Never indicted, but a prime suspect in three killings.
And he hasn't left the country, he's still here.
Multiple ID's, multiple arrests, but no jail time.
- Slippery customer. Looks good for it. - We don't know where Anglet is.
We know that every time Slocombe opens his mouth, he lies.
We've got a BOLO out on him. In the meantime...
let's pursue the case we're developing. Hopper Banks is still our prime suspect.
- Let's check out his house for the gun. - We don't have a warrant.
We do now. Hightower got Withers to sign off on it.
- Hey. - Hey, about the gun...
Find anything? Keep my name out of it.
- Go away, Mr. Bandino. - Nothing so far.
I've got more guys coming. It's a big house.
Agent Lisbon, what is the CBI equivalent of Siberia?
- That's where you're going. - Hold that thought, Mr. Banks.
Look what I found in the home office.
It's a picture of a prop.
Picture of a Colt Detective Special. .38 caliber, four-inch barrel.
- Same kind of gun killed our victim. - A prop.
Why don't we sort out which one at our offices, Mr. Banks?
Oh, Oliver. You idiot.
You bloody idiot.
Who's that?
Come out or I will shoot.
Uh...
I checked for you.
Liverpool lost.
Bad season, huh?
Injuries.
You were expecting me, then.
Nice work.
Well, you dropped everything...
you risk your whole career to, uh...
find him before your colleagues at the Yard.
You followed us after he was shot.
You're both Liverpool fans.
He's family.
Your son?
Yeah.
My son.
I was no father to him.
Never married his mother.
Never spent time with him at all, really.
But I kept track. I tried.
And look at him now.
Look at my boy.
He was a brilliant young man.
From nothing, under his own steam...
he got himself a scholarship to Cambridge to study classics.
That's what got him invited to preview the museum's new collection.
And he stole the ring.
No, it was an impulsive act.
He's not a thief. He's just a foolish, rebellious kid.
He took a copy of the ring in with him. It wasn't an impulsive act. It was a plan.
He's not a thief.
You believe that.
And that was your plan. If you could just talk to him, he'd return the ring.
Because he's, as you say, not a thief.
I could've.
If I'd made it in time, I could've done that.
And now you track down his killer and kill them.
Yeah, well, you know how that works.
I read all about you, Mr. Jane.
I know what happened to your family.
Well, you'll end up in prison.
Maybe.
But right now, I'm gonna walk out of here...
and you're gonna let me.
Obviously. You're holding a gun and I have no real reason to stop you.
Thanks for being sensible.
It's my middle name.
- Hey. - Hey.
I'm having a private word with everyone here...
to kind of set the tone.
Cool. That's an excellent practice.
- Have a seat. - Thank you.
- I spoke to Lisbon yesterday. - Mm-hm.
Told her how deeply I value your contribution to the bureau.
Nice to hear.
I told her you're too good to lose...
to some smartass move you might make that turns bad.
I told her that if and when it happens, it's her neck.
You...
you're golden.
You're safe for anything short of murder.
Lisbon, no.
You mess up, she's out of here.
Any questions?
Not that I can think of right now.
Good.
Thank you for your time.
I look forward to working with you.
Likewise.
Thank you.
See you around.
I knew the purchase was illegal.
I just didn't want to get in trouble. Ironic.
- Where's the gun now? - I have no idea.
I haven't seen it since the shoot, which is what, six weeks ago?
I thought it might be somewhere in my studio...
but you guys would've found it, I guess. Maybe somebody stole it.
- That's not very credible. - It's the truth.
- Boss? - Yeah?
I was going through Banks' laptop and I found this...
and this. And his telephone records.
Cho, you mind?
All yours.
Do you know anything about the theft of a ring at the British museum?
Cleopatra's wedding ring, supposedly.
No. Why?
We checked your browser history on your office computer.
You looked up the theft of the ring two months ago...
right after you let Stans move into your pool house.
Downloaded quite a bit about it.
I never did this.
You also made several phone calls to a man named Louis Anglet...
who we believe may have purchased the ring.
Anglet? I've never heard of him.
The calls are in your phone records.
I paid for overnight delivery.
I was told, "Guaranteed delivery before 10 a.m."
And it's not here yet.
Well, if it gets here by then, that'll be fine. Thank you.
- No word on Slocombe? - Never despair, Van Pelt brings hope.
We've been tracking this Anglet guy via cell phone.
Off that, we got a bead on his credit card.
Someone else is tracking his purchases as well.
- Has to be Slocombe. - And at 3 this afternoon...
Anglet has a massage at the Blue Willow Spa...
- ... right here in downtown Sacramento. - Mm-hm.
- And chances are... - Slocombe will show up.
So good.
I got Anglet.
Bottle of water, please.
I see Slocombe.
- Anglet. - What?
Got a question for you.
Oh, sorry. I think you have the wrong guy. Hey...
- Did you kill my boy? - No.
- Did you kill my boy? - Get off of me.
- CBI! On the ground! - Drop the weapon!
Drop it!
I just meant to question him.
I don't know what came over me. I saw red.
I'll end up in prison just like you predicted.
- Very foolish. - No.
It's human nature.
Ah. Did make me realize revenge is not for me.
Pointless. More violence is just more violence.
- Doesn't make anything any better. - Maybe.
I'm not so, uh...
You're booked on the 8:00 to London, tomorrow.
Take it and there'll be no charges pending.
- Thank you. - I don't want to see you again. Clear?
Oh, yes, ma'am. Heh.
Thank you.
Uh... That's mine.
Yep.
Francis Slocombe, the man who was trying to kill you.
Why was that?
I have no idea.
We know that Slocombe was tracking you.
We know that you came here for the ring.
This ring must be very important.
- Anglet's lawyer is here. - Everyone seems to talk about it.
- What kind of ring is it? - Agent Lisbon.
Excuse me.
- He's tough. - Yeah.
Well, there's a reason why he hasn't been to jail.
That's his attorney. Probably gets about 1500 an hour.
Let's spend a little time with him, run up the meter.
Excuse me, I'm Agent Lisbon.
Would you come to my office with me, please?
Just up here.
Hi.
Whoa.
- You don't look like my lawyer. - I'll take that as a compliment.
- I'm not gonna answer more questions. - No more questions.
You didn't kill Stans. You're too smart.
But you bought Cleopatra's wedding ring from his killer.
Oh, the Cleopatra?
- Really? Queen of the Nile? - Pride of Marc Antony.
And here's what you got. One of these.
Thirty-nine-dollar fakies.
Considerably more if you have to get the overnight delivery.
Not your fault.
No reason to think it was a fake, obviously.
Stans did steal the ring. That's why it's such a great scam.
He can sell the same ring over and over.
Now, the person you bought the ring for...
I'm guessing they paid more than $39 for it.
How much did they pay for it?
Huh?
Two hundred thousand dollars?
More?
More than two?
Oh.
I think they're gonna be pretty mad when they find out it's fake.
Oh!
What do you think?
Oh, man.
You can go now, Mr. Anglet. Your attorney's waiting.
See you.
- You stay. - Oh, I'm staying.
The phone and internet evidence suggests...
that Hopper killed Stans for the ring, sold it to Anglet.
Yes, it does suggest that.
So you just put Hopper in a great deal of danger.
No.
That's your considered reply?
Yup.
- Put a guard on Hopper, ASAP. - Will do, boss.
You know, this is exactly the kind of scenario we talked about.
Didn't think we'd get there so soon.
Your butt is on the line, Agent Lisbon.
- What did you do? - Paid too much for overnight delivery.
- Maybe we should consider. - Protective custody? No.
- No way. - I'll put a team together, sir.
Full protection, 24/7, my four best guys.
- Mr. Banks, you don't understand. - I do.
You people convinced Anglet that I cheated him...
then turned him loose to kill me. That how it goes?
Yeah, that's how it goes.
For the record, Agent Lisbon had absolutely nothing to do with it.
- Jane, hush. - How gallant.
We could've held Anglet, if you were man enough...
- ... to admit selling him the ring. - That's it. Get out.
You'd better pray nothing happens to my family.
Oh, come on.
Where is it?
I want the real ring now.
What are you talking about? I gave it to you.
You sold me the fake. I want the real one now.
I gave you the real one, all right? Trust me.
I put a gun in that guy's face. There's no way he'd hand over a fake.
Put the gun down. Drop the gun!
All right. What did I do? I helped you catch the guy.
All right. Relax.
- On the ground. - Hands on your head.
- Let's see your hands. - Up against the truck, Bandino. Go, go.
Let's see your hands.
Victor Bandino, you're under arrest for the murder of Oliver Stans.
You think being a cop's stressful?
Try being a cop in prison. Jerk.
Get in the car.
I know my job. I do good background checks.
I found out that Smithson was really Stans.
Found out about the ring. I approached him. We talked.
He couldn't sell the ring. It was too hot.
I know some people who know some people.
They put me in touch with Anglet, and that was it.
I brokered the deal.
Why'd you kill Stans?
He changed his mind.
Didn't want to sell it.
At the last minute, the idiot wanted to confess...
return it to the museum.
- What was I supposed to do? - You shot him.
I had no choice.
It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.
Right.
No premeditation, no death penalty.
Only thing, you planned ahead.
You planted the phone and internet evidence on Hopper. Doesn't look good.
Goodbye, son.
Okay.
Well, it appears I was wrong about your son.
He wasn't a thief. He wanted to return the ring.
Anglet cut a deal. Traded for his freedom.
- Way of the world. - Yeah. Doesn't feel any better.
Knowing who killed him, knowing he'll be punished...
doesn't make a damn bit of difference.
I thought it would.
But this is what he wanted.
I can give that to him now...
- ... thanks to you. - Eh.
Well, I'd better not miss my plane.
- Time to say goodbye. - Yeah. Goodbye.
- I wasn't gonna hug you. - I know.
Just making sure.
There was a certain vulnerability...
certain rumpled gentleness to him.
I thought so.
Comfortable?
I'm getting there. Yeah.
Regarding Agents Rigsby and Van Pelt.
They're in a romantic relationship.
Well, I mean...
- Romantic? - You're too good not to have noticed.
Since you haven't done anything about it, I'm gonna have to take action myself.
Just wanted to let you know first.
Good night.
She's good.