Cleaned, corrected, slightly resynced and missing dashes added by Tronar
Victim's Noah Valiquette, 32. Lives a few blocks away.
Local PD says a clown shot him in the back, cut off his finger.
A clown? Which finger?
- Right index. - Any witnesses?
The convenience-store owner caught a glimpse of the suspect taking off.
I'm thinking that the shooter forced him into the alley, killed him in there.
- Did the killer take the finger with him? - Looks that way.
Uses for a detached index finger.
Sending a message?
- Mm. - You from CBI?
Teresa Lisbon. This is Patrick Jane.
Ellis Hindon. Glad your office is close. This is a little out of our league.
We tried not to screw it up.
Observed the crime scene, canvassed the area for witnesses...
and put out a description of the attacker.
It sounds like you know what you're doing. Why call us?
This is who we picked up off the description.
but I really gotta go.
- Sir... - Take your hands off me.
Back of the line, sir.
I was just trying to get ahead. I got somewhere to be.
They're all crying on the inside.
You show up here in that outfit. Why?
There was this casting notice online.
Said they were holding auditions today for a circus movie in Solano County.
They were looking for clown talent, specified we come in costume.
Was there a name on the ad? Contact information?
Just the address and time. What's your name again?
- Van Pelt. - Well, Miss Van P...
what's this? You've got my heart in your pocket.
Thanks for your time.
- I hate clowns. - Get in line.
- Same story? - All said they were here for an audition.
Keep up the interviews. Get a solid ID on every one of these guys.
Go back to the office, see if you can trace who placed the ad.
Okay.
You, come here.
- Where have you been? - Farmers' market.
Delicious apples, if you like that kind of thing.
- Keeping the clowns? - If the shooter's here...
- ... I don't want him slipping away. - Too late. He's slipped.
These are just a smokescreen. Why else would he place the ad?
It's a lovely day, if you wanna waste your time.
We have to. Maybe Bozo made a mistake and got caught with the rest of them.
You know, I knew a clown once.
"Catastropho" was his name. A card-thrower.
He could stick the ace of clubs into a melon at 50 feet.
- We need to talk to the victim's wife. - Fifty feet.
Wow.
If the zeta function is defined for all complex numbers...
- ... where S does not equal one, then... - To your audience, honey.
Look at me. Talk to me.
I know you're just trying to help, Daph...
Tell me more about zeta whatever. You can do it.
- I'm just not cut out for this. - You're doing fine.
I'm sorry.
We made this about two years ago, just before we got married.
Noah tried to get a tenured teaching position.
- How'd that work out for him? - Not so good.
- He has trouble addressing crowds. - My brother was a mathematical genius.
You know, he finished high school at 15...
got his first degree in like, heh, two years.
- But he wasn't good with people. - He was good with me.
Selected Issues in the Fourth Order Differential Equations.
- I guess that was Noah's. - Yeah.
And, uh, Love's Tender Passion, yours?
- Go ahead and make fun. - Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.
No, it's okay. I, uh... I get it. I know how it looks.
I'm no brainiac. And if you met him, you'd think Noah was king of the geeks.
What can I say? I always had a thing for the smart guys.
My girlfriends thought I was crazy.
But when he opened up, Noah had a beautiful soul.
And I was good for him. I helped him with the world.
What did he do for a living?
Oh, he, uh, published a few papers in mathematical journals.
Which, uh, well, obviously do not pay much.
But he was gonna do fine.
I mean, he was always discovering... What do you call them? proofs.
And, uh, inventing stuff.
But one day, it would have paid off. I know it would.
And in the meantime?
Uh, we pretty much lived on my waitressing.
I think that bothered Noah, because he, um, said he wanted to help out more.
Uh...
he started day-trading a few months back...
but I don't think it went so well.
- Why's that? - I don't know.
He wouldn't talk about it.
Daphne, he never talked about anything.
- Where was he going this morning? - Oh, um...
coffee place downtown. Ariel's.
He spent most days there on his laptop, um, doing his day-trading stuff.
He liked the background frequency.
What's going on with you?
You couldn't sit, can't stand still. Guilty conscience?
No, I...
My little brother just died.
And he was terrified of clowns, so whoever did this was sick.
Did you know about Noah's thing with clowns?
Noah had his quirks.
For the record, where were you this morning at 7:30?
Uh, I was here, asleep.
- I worked a late shift last night. - And you?
In my car, on the way to work.
Tough game Noah had going here.
- Wasn't playing either of you? - No.
- Who did he play with? - Mostly one guy, Tolman Bunting.
Tolman Bunting. Runs a store called The Puzzle Nook...
not far from the Valiquettes'.
Records show a lot of calls between the store and house.
We'll go talk to him. How's it going with the clowns?
PD found a clown's outfit on the road about 3 miles from the crime scene.
- No trace of DNA, though. - Put the clowns aside for now.
Keep the files, in case we need to go back to them.
Okay, boss. You got it.
Noah's mind was exquisite.
A few years ago, I published a book of number puzzles.
And, uh, shortly after, Noah e-mailed me.
He'd solved all the puzzles, of course...
but he'd also found a few logical flaws in two of them.
That's when I realized...
that I had to have a person of his intellectual caliber in my orbit.
Soon after, we started playing a regular game of chess.
How often did you see him?
Mm, once a month, I'd say.
But we'd play on the Internet or on the phone.
I think you'll, uh, like that one. It's rather tricky.
Doesn't it just kind of go like that?
Around there, that goes around there, over there like that and...
That's it, right?
Very good. Yes.
Oh. That was fun. Heh.
Do you know anybody who was angry with Noah...
or maybe held a grudge against him?
No, no. Not at all.
But see, Noah was a bit oblivious to people's feelings.
So sometimes that would come across as rude.
But he's honestly the gentlest person that you can imagine.
I can't fathom anyone wanting to kill Noah.
Were you aware he was coulrophobic?
- That means that he was afraid of... - Fear of clowns.
No, not at all.
- You sure? - Quite.
- Where were you this morning at 7:30? - I was out for a run.
Was this the game you were playing with Noah?
- As a matter of fact, it was. - Mm.
- Yeah, I think he might have had you. - You play?
- Oh, a little. - We should have a game sometime.
Now works. I'll open with pawn to C4.
- Pawn to E6. - Knight to F3.
- Pawn to D5. - Declining the gambit. Interesting.
Pawn to D4.
- Oh, really? Hmm. - Scout's honor.
- Could we get back to the interview? - Of course. My apologies.
- You're gonna regret that open. - We'll see.
Notice anything unusual in Noah's behavior recently?
No, but there was one thing.
When we, uh, actually started that game...
Noah was quite intent on betting, which he had never done before.
- Did you take the bet? - No, I like my money too much.
- You wanna stick with that open? - Why not?
- Knight to F6. - Knight to C3.
- Bishop to E7.
Mm. Your funeral.
Thank you for your time.
- Thank you. - Thank you for stopping by.
By the way, bishop, G5.
Mind your queen.
Hey. You got a message from somebody named Tolman.
- "King side castle." - Ah.
As he leans toward his doom.
- Chess, the game of kings. - Kings with too much time on their hands.
- Hey, boss? - What's up?
Noah's wife said he was bringing in money by day-trading, right?
- That's right. - They had a little money in the bank.
But I checked his web browser history. There isn't a single trade.
So I ran his social, but he's never even owned a stock.
- What was he doing, then? - I can't tell.
There's a lot of files that seem like random numbers and letters.
Every week he e-mailed a bunch to the same address.
Beastslayer 949.
Contact Noah's ISP, make them tell you who Beastslayer is.
Hey, boss, Daphne Valiquette on two. She sounds freaked.
- Daphne? - You have to come.
There's somebody inside my house.
I called as soon as I saw the door.
- Just take it easy. - I was gone less than an hour.
I should've called the police. I wasn't thinking.
- How many entrances besides the front? - Back door.
- Got it. - You guys take the front.
Somebody forced it open.
Kitchen's clear.
- Bathroom's clear. - Living room's clear.
Bedroom's clear.
Uh, guys, you need to see this.
- Whoa. - Somebody really wanted something.
Safe in the floor. That's pretty old-school.
A high-end sensor lock. It's gonna be tough to bust into.
I'll call Tech Services, tell them we need a locksmith.
Uh, don't bother.
I found the key.
- This type of safe doesn't use a key. - Oh, yes, it does.
Ew.
Bag it.
Ugh.
Ew.
Somebody killed my husband and cut off his finger to get into some safe?
Yes. And this is all we found in there.
A chessboard, comic book and some papers.
- Have you ever seen this stuff before? - No.
- Did Noah ever mention the safe? - No, never.
This was his house before we got married.
I just moved my stuff in.
You can tell volunteering information wasn't Noah's strong suit.
Whatever the killer was looking for wasn't in the safe.
That's why they ripped up the rest of the house.
Would you excuse me?
Lisbon.
Jane.
Cho got Dr. Valiquette's ISP. Beastslayer 949 is Alec Mosca.
He lives 15 miles away. Cho and Rigsby are on their way.
Splendid.
Did Noah have any other hiding places?
Maybe. Yeah, sure. I don't know.
I mean, I feel like I don't know anything anymore.
I mean, how many secrets did he keep? Why put all this junk in a safe?
Well, it's not all junk.
This is a Spider-Man 46.
In this issue, he takes on the Shocker. It's very good. Worth a pretty penny.
What I find is interesting...
is that the chess set that your husband has set up on the table is expensive...
and this one, on the other hand, is made in China.
Not so expensive.
So one has to wonder why he had the cheapo set hidden away so carefully.
Unless...
there was something inside.
Locker key. Locker 42. I wonder where that is.
- This the one? - Yeah.
- Yeah? - Alec Mosca?
Why? Who are you?
Agents Cho and Rigsby, CBI. Please open the door.
- Who? - CBI, sir. Let us in.
Uh, sure. CBI, no problem.
Uh, look, I'm in my skivvies.
So give me a second to get presentable, all right?
Think he'll put pants on...
- ... before he hits the window? - No.
Mr. Mosca.
Let me see your hands!
- Let me see your hands! - All right, okay. No problem.
There's 14,000 in it. Take that to Mike. Tell him I'm good for the rest.
- On my sister-in-law's grave, I swear. - What the hell are you talking about?
Mike sent you, right? To collect on the Boston-Philly bet?
Oh, crap.
Face the wall. Put your hands on your head.
- Who are you guys? - Remember the badge?
- CBI. - What the hell is that?
- California Bureau of Investigation. - What is that?
We're like the FBI, only more conveniently located.
- Thanks. - Let me say...
I'm very sorry for the misunderstanding at my door.
- I had no idea you were cops. - We showed you our badges...
- ... and identified ourselves. - You watch movies?
- That's how the bad guys do it. - No, it's not. Sit down.
- How do you know Noah Valiquette? - Coffeehouse.
Uh, Noah likes Vienna Roast. I'm partial to the Sumatran blend.
Is that what he's e-mailing you about, coffee orders?
You should tell the truth, Mr. Mosca. It's easier to remember.
This is how it is. I occasionally place a wager.
- Meaning you're a degenerate gambler? - Yeah, okay.
Couple months back, I'm in the coffeehouse going through picks...
when Noah asks what I'm doing.
Long story short, he says he can give me a "rational analysis" on the odds.
So I threw him a couple games. Bing, bing, bing.
They all came through. That caught my eye, so we made a deal.
He gave me picks. I gave him 10 percent of the winnings.
- These don't look like picks. - Noah had to send them in code.
Don't ask me. Just who he was.
- When did the arrangement go south? - Who said it did?
You did. You were nervous since I mentioned his name.
From three weeks back...
every one of Noah's calls is a bust. Couldn't pick a bear to crap in the woods.
I asked him what was going on. All he'd say was he had a problem.
- Couldn't focus. - That made you angry.
You think? He's got a problem? I'm the one bleeding money.
But anything that you might have heard about angry words between us...
bears no relation to deeds carried out. I never touched the guy.
Mosca's got two arrests for assault. I could see him going after Noah.
In a bar fight, maybe. Not in a clown suit.
The question is, why did Noah's picks go sour?
- Anybody can have a bad run. - But Noah wasn't anybody.
I mean, a day here, a day there, but three weeks?
According to Mosca, he had a problem, couldn't focus. Trouble at home?
Doesn't sound like a problem he'd notice.
Must've been some kind of intellectual challenge.
Agreed. But who could present that kind of intellectual challenge...
that kind of puzzle? Huh?
Oh, Mr. Jane. Did you, um...? Did you come here to concede the game?
Not at all.
Bishop takes E7.
Interesting.
What problem was Noah Valiquette working on for you?
I don't know what you're talking about. Noah and I played chess.
- Liar. - I am not a liar.
You think I can't tell when someone is lying?
- Jane. - Huh?
Enough, Mr. Tolman. Start talking the truth, or I'm gonna pop you.
Don't even think about it.
Put the gun down. Put it down.
Just... It's soft. It's just a hand.
There's nothing there, just a hand. We're good.
Annika, put the gun down.
Why do you have an armed bodyguard, Mr. Bunting?
Why don't we, um, step into my office, okay?
- Sweet. - Do you understand how important...
puzzles and codes are to you agents?
They protect your e-mails, they stop credit-card fraud.
Puzzle-making and -breaking is the preeminent security issue of our day.
I run a consulting firm that deals specifically with those issues.
- Who do you work for? - We're not prejudiced.
- Whoever needs us. - What was Noah doing?
That's delicate.
Mr. Bunting, unless you give us your full cooperation...
I'll have the CBI Computer Crimes Unit in this office in an hour.
I was grooming Noah for a, uh, pet project. Something special.
What for?
A device that could decipher virtually any encrypted information.
The universal hack.
Well, that's the crude way of calling it.
I identified three people I thought could pull it off.
Noah was one of them.
I offered each one of them $2 million.
Last week, Noah called me and told me that he had built the device.
- But he wasn't going to give it to me. - Why?
He said he had second thoughts.
He was worried about the device falling into the wrong hands.
- And that doesn't worry you? - I'm a businessman, not a moralist.
Mm. Kind of annoying, though, Noah holding out on you like that.
Not really.
You see, I decided that Noah didn't really build the device...
that he couldn't, and he was embarrassed by his failures.
What if he had built a device? What would you do to get it?
Anything.
- Short of killing him, of course. - Mm.
I found a locker key at Noah's house, very well hidden.
- A Locker 42. - Interesting.
- Any idea where that locker is? - We're looking.
Well, if you find it, you must let me know...
because that device is mine.
Not yet. You haven't paid for it.
I have a handful of lawyers looking into it.
Oh, Mr. Jane, before I forget...
queen to E7, taking your bishop.
Hmm.
We need to talk to the other people working on this project.
Fine, no problem. There's an Alex Kromm, who lives in Amsterdam.
And then the, uh, third person is local, a Oliver McDaniel.
- But I doubt that he killed Noah. - Why?
C-41.
There you go.
Opening.
Oliver Simon McDaniel.
Your file says that you finished college at 16, graduate school at 19.
You were sent here after nearly choking your father to death.
He's not my father.
He's a cyber clone sent by the galactic quantum lords.
Oh, them.
You know, they're always up to something shady.
Yes. They're trying to drive me mad.
But they won't succeed.
- Have you heard about Noah? - I did. Sad.
- Can you do a shiatsu massage? - No.
Shame. I'm tight, so tight. And my skin is so dry and flaky.
Mm-hm.
The visitor log says Noah was the only person who came to see you.
- How did you know him? - Um, grad school. I felt sorry for him.
He was a little off. My guess was radiation.
How did he die?
Gunshot wound, which, uh, suggests it wasn't the quantum lords that killed him.
Duh. They'd use a lorax beam.
Why would they want to kill Noah anyway? Big wuss.
Quite. His killer wore a clown costume. Any ideas who that might have been?
Assuming, of course, that it is a carbon-based life form.
Nuh-uh.
But the clown thing's clever. Noah hated them.
We understand that you were working on a problem for Tolman Bunting.
My doctors wanted to nix it. I convinced them it was good therapy.
Don't touch that!
Did you know that Noah was working on one for him too?
Which makes him a big-ass hypocrite.
- Why's that? - Well, back in grad school...
we got offered a gig writing code for some defense contractor.
Noah passed. Said he didn't wanna do anything that could harm someone.
Like this thing for Tolman is any better. It's worse.
You could destroy the world practically, if you wanted to.
Noah may well have completed that project. Yeah.
- How are you doing with it? - Fine.
So not even close.
I could gouge your eyes out with a spoon.
I'll take a rain check on that.
It appears Noah may have hidden the device...
in a locker that this key belongs to.
Do you have any idea where that locker could be?
Sir, I'm a mental patient.
I don't know anything. Nobody does.
But, see, I know I don't know.
Paradox.
- Interview over. - Yes, it is.
Thank you.
It's funny how well you two get along.
Well, I have the same kind of trouble with those pesky quantum lords.
Noah's ethics should've prevented him from taking on the project.
But he took it on. Why?
Ah, Noah loved puzzles. Maybe he couldn't resist the challenge.
- There's plenty of those to choose from. - Thanks.
Uh, the prospect of lots and lots of money?
- That's a boring motive. - It's still pretty popular.
Inmate escape.
- Open that now. - All officers, stay on your stations.
I repeat, we have an inmate escape. All floors, report in.
Oh. Alert the quantum lords.
Have the Kenmore police put out an APB.
And get me everything you can on Oliver McDaniel.
- Okay. - I'm impressed.
Oliver made his key-pass using information stolen from the guards.
Trips alarm to create a distraction, hides in the guards' locker room.
- Last place they'd search. - This isn't the first departure.
Multiple exits unaccounted for, more than a month.
Security didn't flag this?
Exits came up under the guard's name. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Oliver could come and go when he wanted.
He was gone around the time of Noah's murder.
- Bumps him up the suspect list. - Why leave now?
- Why not slip out at night? - He was going after the device.
He figured out where it was when he saw the key.
Would've done anything to get it. You talk to Tolman?
- He had no idea where Oliver could be. - If Oliver leaves a trail, it's not his.
Check the guard's name and run his credit cards.
The pass may not be the only thing Oliver copied.
Yeah, you got it.
- Hey, Grace. - Hey.
Um, if I wanted to go away by the ocean, you know, somewhere close...
- ... kind of a resort-type thing... - Spa treatments?
Yeah, yeah, that kind of thing. Exactly. Oh, yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
Um, is there any places that you'd recommend?
I'm kind of busy here, Jane.
Can you look on your computer? It'll take 10 seconds.
- Why don't you do it yourself? - I'll get you a nougat bar...
from the, uh, machine over there.
Give me five minutes.
- You are the queen of my heart, Grace. - Mm-hm.
I'll wait here.
- Welcome to the Tidewater, sir. - Oh, thank you.
- Very, uh, lovely place. - We like to think so.
Is there something I can help you with?
Uh, yes, there is.
Um, how is your staff at procuring, uh, things for guests?
- Uh, what do you mean? - Special things.
- If it's company you're looking for... - No, it's, uh, not company I'm looking for.
But thank you, if you're offering company, Gary.
Got a hit on the guard's credit card.
Somebody used it to buy a ticket to Brazil departing in an hour.
- Tell the airport police we're on our way. - You got it.
What, Jane?
- What's up, Lisbon? - Ah, nothing much.
Might make a run to the San Francisco Airport to pick up Oliver McDaniel.
Ah. Well, you may wanna rethink that.
Where is he?
Hey, isn't this lovely?
The smell of the ocean air.
Sand beneath your feet.
We should move our offices here.
Oliver, Jane. Where is he?
You'd be so much happier. Do wonders for your stress levels.
He's ticketed on a flight. Cho and Rigsby are on their way to the airport now, so...
Oliver has been in an insane asylum for about six months.
He asked you for a massage.
He's in need of a little pampering.
- The flight's a misdirect. - How can you be so sure?
The sound machine in his room was tuned in to the ocean.
That and the fact that Room 644...
has already ordered six cans of Spaghettios from the concierge.
- You can't arrest him yet. - Yes, I can.
No, you can't. He escaped because he knows the location of the device.
- If we follow him, he'll lead us to it. - I don't care about the device.
You don't care about a device...
that could hack into our government's national security system?
That's not very patriotic, Lisbon.
Piña colada?
Rook to B8.
Poor deluded fool.
Bunting will be resigned before lunch, the way he's playing.
Great.
Bishop to C4. Ha, ha.
There he is.
Cho, we have a visual.
We'll take point. You and Rigsby hang back.
Whoo!
He's headed in now. Let's see where he's going.
Whoa!
Come on.
Who was that?
- I don't know. - Watch Oliver. Cho, come on.
Need a paramedic at the pier.
CBI. Don't move.
Move.
Forty-two.
Don't move.
Mr. Bunting?
Four and two.
Ah.
Nice work tailing us to the pier.
But I guess for the guy who's after the universal hack...
listening in on police radios is no big thing.
It was, uh, an unseasonably warm day.
I wanted to cool off by the water.
Pure coincidence drew me there.
This isn't funny, Mr. Bunting.
You're in trouble.
We've got a big handful of felonies for what you did at the pier.
And we are this close to nailing you for the murder Noah Valiquette.
- Really? - Really.
Clown costume, the ad.
Sounds like the work of a man who likes to play games, doesn't it?
Hey, boss, AG's on the phone. Says it's urgent.
Oh, uh, do me a favor and, uh, send my best to the attorney general.
And tell Mr. Jane, queen to D8.
Queen to D8. Thank you.
You knew where Noah hid the device. How?
In grad school, Noah and I would go to the pier.
Noah liked the rides. I liked the beach.
All those young women in wet bathing suits.
I knew Noah hid it there as soon as I saw that key.
So you decided to escape and get it for yourself.
I wanted the money. There's an intergalactic war coming.
Yes, I'm aware. But if you take the device to Tolman...
we're waiting for you in the lobby.
Well, I wanted the device so I could see how it worked.
After that, I could make my own, sell them wherever.
Have enough money to build my bunker.
The hospital logs have you out the morning of Noah's murder.
- War preparations? - No, breakfast at my favorite strip club.
They have an open buffet. All you can eat.
Noah's killer planned an elaborate diversion to get away.
Like your ticket-to-Brazil stunt.
I wasn't aware it was a crime to be intelligent, Agent Cho.
The AG insists I let Bunting go, drop all charges.
- The man must have serious juice. - Stands to reason.
He knows where the skeletons are buried.
I don't know what to do. How do you build a case against a guy like this?
Well, it's not so hard.
Talk to the girls at the club. Someone's gotta remember I was there.
He speaks the truth, Cho.
Oliver here would have trouble killing a light beer...
- ... much less Noah Valiquette. - That's not accurate.
I could mess you up badly if I wanted to.
But you don't want to.
Before we let you walk out the door, I need a favor.
- Heh. Not a chance. - Consider it.
It'll give you a chance to work with this.
Then when you're done, a little gift from the planetary league. Hmm?
Rook takes F6.
Your very friendly assistant let me in.
Rook takes F6.
King to G8. What are you doing here?
I came by to see if Noah's doohickey here actually works.
- That's it? - Yes.
- So he did build it. - Yes, and I'm here to return it.
For $2 million, of course.
- You expect me to pay you? - Well, not me, no.
But its rightful owners.
Uh, have you met Noah's wife, Daphne, and brother, Rafe?
Legally, Noah's property is passed on to Daphne, including this.
- Either of you ever seen this before? - No.
- What is it? - Uh, it's a code-breaking device...
designed by Noah for Mr. Bunting, uh, in return for $2 million.
- Your $2 million. - Oh, my God.
I'm sure a cashier's check will be fine.
Yes. Uh, we first have to make sure that this thing works.
- That was part of our arrangement. - As you wish.
Hmm.
Whoa.
- We're gonna need an encrypted file. - How about Lisbon's personnel file?
- No. - I just happen to have it on disc.
- No. - It has some great photos.
Fine.
Seems to be working here.
- What does that mean? - It means that it's not working.
It seems Noah was unable to complete the project. I am sorry, Mrs. Valiquette.
- He needed more time. - Wait, how do we know it doesn't work?
Maybe he's playing us, trying to save himself a couple million.
Don't be absurd. Why wouldn't I want this to work?
Try it again, because my husband's a genius. It has to work.
I'm afraid your, um, husband's genius had its limitations.
Humor us.
Okay, fine.
What's happening?
It's working.
What?
- What the hell? - Turn it off.
- Wait. - Turn it off. Turn it off.
- It's right, isn't it? - Of course not.
You said you didn't know anything about the device.
- You were lying. - No. Wh...?
I had Oliver change the settings so it wouldn't work.
You knew how to change them back. You watched Noah work.
You knew that he decided not to give it to Tolman for any price.
You did what you felt you had to. You played on his fear.
You'd take the device and turn it in to Tolman yourself.
All you had to do was open the safe.
The problem: It wasn't in the safe.
That movie with the crazy math guy and the woman who loves him?
Yeah, I thought Noah and me would be like that.
Mm.
Love's Tender Passion.
Yeah, you go ahead and make fun.
God, life with Noah was nothing like that.
It was silence. Days of it.
And books I could never understand the title of.
And no sex when he's thinking, which, by the way, is all the time.
I worked 50 hours a week scrounging for tips...
just so we could have food.
Anyway, so then Noah told me about this guy...
who would pay him $2 million to build this thing. Two million dollars.
Well, I begged him, and finally he said he would do it...
which was only right, because it was his turn.
But he wouldn't hand it over.
And you couldn't live with that.
Yeah, well, he said it was too dangerous.
God, I tried to make him, but he said that...
He said I wasn't able to understand the implications.
So I decided to show him I could be smart too.
Or a whole lot dumber. I'm not sure which.
Get up.
Come here. Hands behind your back.
- What put you onto her? - I came to it late. I could've kicked myself.
The kitchen of her house was left unsearched...
because that was her domain. She knew the device wasn't there.
Oh, Mr. Jane. Perfect timing.
Pawn to F4.
Shrewd.
But I gather you're here for more than just to pin my queen.
Yes. Actually, I came here to collect my property.
Given Daphne's condition...
ownership of the device goes to Noah's brother.
But when I contacted Rafe, he wanted nothing to do with it.
So according to my attorneys, that passes the device to me.
I have the documents.
- If you have questions... - No need. No need. It's all yours.
All yours.
Uh, I hope you don't mind, I did have a little fiddle with it.
I just wanted to see how it worked.
Easily fixed, I'd imagine. Easily?
Oh, uh, what's that?
That may be part of it.
You are gonna be hearing from my attorney.
Tolman, one last thing.
Bishop...
to C4.
Forced mate in three moves.
I win. Come and take a closer look. You'll see it.
We should do this again.