Elementary s03e18 Episode Script

The View from Olympus

Whew.
I'm beginning to think that some clients aren't worth the 20 feet in the cold.
Maybe it's time to un-nail that basement door, huh? - That's the sex blanket.
- I have asked you not to call it that.
Who is she and what time is she coming over? How would you like to spend the next three days at the Hotel Lutece, enjoying the finest pampering that Western civilization has to offer? On me, of course, already booked you a room.
It's the least I could do, considering I was about to request that you make yourself scarce for a few days.
A few days.
Her name, to answer your initial question, is Agatha Sparrow.
She's an esteemed British climatologist.
She's in New York to deliver the key note at a global conference.
We met several years ago when she was consulting Father on a land deal in the Brazilian rainforest.
At the same time I was investigating a man who'd thrown his wife from the Splügen Pass in the Swiss Alps.
Agatha helped to prove that visibility was good on the day in question and that the wife's death was not the accident that the husband claimed it to be.
She'd proven herself quite useful on a number of occasions.
We also find ourselves compatible in matters of the flesh.
Wait, are you cleaning up? Do not mistake caution for sentiment, Watson.
I was moving a few breakables out of the way and some rare volumes.
We do have a tendency to spread out.
I'm impressed.
A sex partner you're not kicking out the minute you're done.
But mixing pleasure with an irregular, it seems a little risky, you know? Agatha is not your regular irregular.
We both have the mental discipline to compartmentalize.
I'm having the woman over for her benefit, not mine.
There's a good deal of pressure surrounding her speech.
I merely offer myself sexually to help her de-stress.
And I will take the hotel.
I'm gonna go pack.
This is what I really call a party now Well, fear makes us Really, really run around This one's done so where to now? Our eyes light up We have no shame at all Well you all know What I'm talkin' about Shaved off my eyebrows When I fall to the ground So I can't look surprised right now You've gotta be kidding me.
Where we'll make The same mistakes Burn it up, orjust chop it down What the hell, man? No, wait! Even you cannot deny the hypocrisy.
The world's elite swarming into the city via their private jets and luxury SUVs to decry the dangers of global warming.
Celebrity is a microphone, Sherlock.
People like that will fly their private jets regardless.
Better they put their privilege to good use, don't you think? Wailing Goggle Man alone must burn enough fuel in the air to send a rocket to Mars.
- Wailing Goggle Man? - Yeah, you know, the Irishman.
- With the songs.
- Bono.
His name is Bono.
Detective.
I'll inform Watson and we'll meet you there.
You must forgive me.
Duty calls.
You have a key.
The brownstone is yours to come and go as you please.
Actually, I was hoping we could discuss something this morning.
My schedule's so full for the week, I'm not sure we'll get another chance.
I promise it won't take long.
- Hey.
Where've you been? - Stalled train.
I take it that's the lion's share of the crime scene being carted off.
It's going to the garage of the precinct.
Body's on its way to the morgue.
This street feeds right into the tunnel.
If I had held the scene, we'd be getting calls from the mayor's office.
The victim's name was Galen Barrow, 26.
He was a driver for one of those ride-sharing companies, Zooss.
It's like the Greek god but with two O's and two S's.
The dotcom mavens will not rest until every word has been mangled.
That's word with one o.
Looks like the killer was driving a yellow cab.
Paint transferred all over the victim's car.
Multiple impacts.
No way this was an accident.
There has been a lot of tension between the cabbies and the ride-sharing guys the last few months.
Some bar fights, a few other tangles, but far as I can tell, this is the first murder.
Cab-sharing - Smell that.
- The pavement? - Vomit.
- That doesn't look like puke.
That's because the vomitor was drinking on an empty stomach.
Gin.
Particularly cheap brand of gin called Pascale's.
You can tell from the distinct blend of impurities and flavorings.
- I'll take your word for it.
- So you think the killer threw up.
Leaning out of the driver's seat would leave him about there.
Yeah.
I saw an empty bottle of Pascale's on the curb around the corner.
Hadn't been there for very long.
Could be the cabbie threw it out the window after he did this.
I'll have our guys bag it and get a swab of that.
The department reached out to the TLC to try to find out if any cabs came in with front-end damage this morning.
Looks like we got a hit at a fleet in Queens.
Driver said he lost control on some ice and hit a pole.
He brought it in like this around 6:00.
Well, I'd say he's telling the truth.
The car we're looking for will be more banged up but we appreciate you letting us take a look.
I wish your guy said on the phone that someone killed a Zooss driver.
I'd have saved you the trip.
- Why is that? - The driver did this, name's Rasheed.
He leases by the week and sends everything he makes back to his family in Bangladesh.
Guys like that don't care about Zooss or Goober or whatever they're called.
Fleet hacks aren't having any trouble picking up fares.
All right, then who is upset about Zooss? If you ask me, you're looking for a private owner.
The guy who took out a mortgage to buy a medallion and that cab is how he puts food on the table.
Those medallions cost what, a million dollars now? They did, but the price is going down thanks to the ride-share companies.
In other cities it's already bad.
And people here see the writing on the wall.
It's like the market for your house dropping out.
A lot of these guys, they're up to their eyeballs in debt, but now, they're under water.
I'd kill over that.
Hey.
I thought you'd still be at the morgue.
Mr.
Barrow's body was a disappointment.
It was devoid of any clues as to his killer's identity so I came here.
Your trip to the fleet was of course, equally fruitless.
And how did you know that? This is a chrome bumper strip.
It is not from Galen Barrow's car, but rather from the cab, a Ford Crown Victoria.
It became wedged into the wreckage and then pulled off as the cab backed away.
It's significant because the last model year when Ford Crown Victorias had chrome bumper strips, was 2003.
Would you care to guess how many active yellow cabs are Ford Crown Victorias manufactured in 2003 or earlier? Something tells me you already checked.
Five.
And all of them have been accounted for.
I don't understand.
Are you saying it wasn't a cab? Not an active cab, no.
But a retired one.
The dispatcher we talked to thought the perp might be a private owner.
Someone who was still driving.
I'm beginning to think the killer is not a cab driver at all.
The attack happened when Galen Barrow was beginning his shift.
That's a predictable time and place to find him.
The killer was driving a more than decade old, retired cab, a vehicle whose presence is far less likely if left to chance.
So you think someone killed Barrow for another reason but then wanted it to look like it was an angry cab driver.
It's a possibility I think we should at least explore.
If it's true, it stands to reason that the killer acquired that vehicle expressly for the task.
So you should refocus your search to identify recently sold cabs that match the aforementioned make and years of production.
I'll pull the sales records and let you know what I find.
I'll attempt to gather information about Mr.
Barrow.
We can meet later to review it.
Uh, what about Agatha? All that de-stressing? I think a homicide takes precedence, don't you? - Oh, you must be Agatha.
- And you must be Joan.
Oh, no, no.
Please, sit.
I was hoping we'd cross paths at some point.
When Sherlock told me he'd exiled you on my account, I was mortified.
If the Lutece is exile, I will take it.
Anyway, he is making up for it with the crème brûlée bill alone.
But I promise you I will be out of your hair before you know it.
Oh, he's made too much of that, I'm afraid.
We're not teenagers.
At any rate, no need to rush.
Sherlock's too busy to socialize tonight.
- Busy with a case.
- Is he here? He said he'd be in the office if I need him.
The office.
The one downstairs, in the basement? - Are you hiding? - Excuse me? Are you hiding here in my office? From Agatha.
As you're well aware, I find changes in environment conducive to my process.
And what reason could I possibly have for hiding from my own guest? I don't know.
Adhering to my theory that Galen Barrow's murder is not related to the Livery War of 2015, I began to look at other aspects of his life.
As it turns out, Internet journalist was his vocation of choice.
Only started driving for Zooss a couple of months ago.
Probably to supplement the paltry sums he was paid for his blogs.
What? You are totally hiding from her.
Something happened this morning.
Agatha made a rather imposing request of me.
She wants to make it official.
I knew it.
I knew it was only a matter of time before one of these women fell in love.
You cannot maintain multiple long-term physical relationships without one of them turning serious.
I don't care how good you think you are at compartmentalizing Agatha is not in love with me.
Oh.
- Then what's the problem? - She's asked for a donation.
- What? To an environmental group? - To her uterus.
She has asked for my issue.
She wants to have a baby with you? She's asked only for my genetic material.
Her expectation as to my involvement in the child's life would end there.
What did you say? Do I exude the traits of fatherhood to you? Detective.
Well, that suggestion of yours paid off.
We looked into recent sales of retired yellow cabs and found an '03 Crown Vic that traded hands last week.
A couple of detectives went to the buyer's house to check it out.
The guy had told them it had been stolen.
And his reason for not reporting the theft? They asked him the same question and he tried to bolt out the back door.
They're bringing him down to the station now.
Gordon Meadows, I'm Detective Bell.
This is Mr.
Holmes, Ms.
Watson.
I've just been informed that you're a registered sex offender.
You were arrested for trading in child pornography is 2008.
We're curious, what's your affiliation with Galen Barrow? Why'd you buy that taxi last week? It was too old to put into use.
I needed a car.
And the price was right.
And your reason for running from the police? How long have you had that irritation on your skin? I don't I don't know.
It's called Airbag Dermatitis.
Usually clears up in a couple of days.
Which means that you were recently in the front of a car - whose airbag deployed.
- See, that's interesting.
Especially considering how Mr.
Barrow died.
We're also pretty sure whoever killed him threw up at the scene.
We're just waiting on the DNA.
Your DNA is already on file.
So maybe it's time you got out in front of this.
I didn't have a choice.
To do what? All of it.
Buying the cab.
Driving it into that man.
They made me do it.
I had to drink a half bottle of gin just to work up the courage.
Are you saying you were coerced? A few months ago, I started going to a schoolyard in Washington Heights, somewhere where no one would recognize me.
I swear I didn't do anything.
I just I just wanted to look.
But it was still a violation of your parole.
I started getting texts, photos of me at the school.
Someone was blackmailing you.
They said they wanted $5000 or they would tell the police what I was doing.
I knew that I would go back to jail, so I paid.
Everything was quiet for a while, and a few days ago I get a new text.
A picture of that poor man Barrow with a bunch of instructions.
They were telling me where he would be, when he would be there, that I had to use a cab.
The cops who came to my house.
They have my phone.
Look at it, please.
It's all there.
You'll see.
I'll have the phone brought up, but that guy seems pretty confident it's gonna back his story.
Seems unlikely he would've pre-emptively fabricated evidence of a blackmailing just in case he was arrested.
He might've caught the killer, but someone else wanted Barrow dead.
He was just the weapon.
Mrs.
Guerrero, Galen Barrow was a regular writer for your website, wasn't he? It's such a shock for everybody here.
We're all still trying to get our heads around what happened.
The news said it was a hit-and-run but now you think he was targeted? There is evidence that supports that.
We have the driver in custody.
Looks like he was coerced.
Now, the person responsible sent instructions using burner phones.
Those numbers are no longer in use.
Everyone liked Galen.
We didn't know much about his personal life.
Mostly our contributors worked from home.
But it's hard to imagine anyone wanting to hurt him.
Is it possible that his work here put him in harm's way? Perhaps during his research for an article he witnessed something untoward.
Honestly, he would've loved that.
He was ambitious.
He saw himself doing real investigative journalism one day.
Mostly what we had for him was gallery openings, city council meetings.
His last piece was on craft beers.
If you wouldn't mind, we'd like to review his recent work.
Oh, of course.
Anything I can do to help.
Hmm, this might be something.
Couple of months ago, Galen interviewed a fashion designer named Bobby Alacqua.
Do not doubt my ability to multitask.
Bobby Alacqua might be something.
Well, the interview was just a puff piece, but I recognize the name.
There was an arrest at his boutique.
One of his employees was trafficking cocaine and using the store as a front.
So maybe Galen saw something he shouldn't have.
Hmm.
So how'd it go here last night? Agatha and I did not have sex, - if that's what you're asking.
- Did you talk more? About me helping to create another human life? No, we did not.
- Is it really s? - Yes.
- But I don't - What facet of my being would suggest that I have any desire to reproduce, hmm? Is it my optimistic outlook or perhaps the nostalgic fuzzies that you hear me spouting about my own upbringing? Well, you're reading about Agatha.
She's obviously on your mind.
I'm attempting to understand what could have caused her to so egregiously violate our sexual contract.
Until last week, I hadn't seen her for months.
So perhaps she had a brush with death or suffered a traumatic brain injury.
So now you have to have brain damage to want a baby? Your words.
Agatha's what, 36, 37? If you intend to reduce this to some tired clock analogy It's a thing.
It happens.
If that's all this was, she could have gone to any number of banks for her spermatozoa.
Instead, she turned to a confirmed misanthrope and recovering drug addict.
I ask you, Watson, who in their right mind would favor my genetic material over Yes? You're right, you should look into that cocaine and couture shop.
- It sounds promising.
- Where are you going? Calls to make.
Personal matter.
- Who dresses you, girl? - I dress myself.
You ought to come work for me.
You had an employee who was arrested here for moving drugs in the store? Ricky was a good worker.
Organized, self-starting.
If it wasn't for him dealing coke, I'd have made him manager.
Anyway, I thought he cut a deal.
What else is there to talk about? Actually, I was investigating a different crime, but it might be related.
There was a reporter named Galen Barrow who interviewed you for this website called TownSoNice.
I remember.
Cute.
Any chance he was in contact with Ricky or any of Ricky's associates? No, we didn't meet here.
I had some business uptown, so we met at a coffee shop across the street from his apartment.
- Uh, where uptown was this? - First Avenue in the 80's.
I can look it up.
And you're sure he said this was his apartment.
That boy apologized about 1000 times that he made me come to him.
And when we wrapped it up, I saw him go into his building.
Why? I received your texts.
You invited Ms.
Guerrero in for questioning? Galen interviewed Bobby Alacqua on the Upper East Side, across from a building that Galen said was his apartment.
But then I remembered he lived in Brooklyn.
You looked up the occupants and found the name Lydia Guerrero.
This morning she said she barely knew him.
Obviously that wasn't true.
You think they were playing Couch Quail? If that means having an affair, yeah, we do.
So Lydia is married to a lawyer at a big corporate firm.
Compared to what she's making at the website, he's definitely the breadwinner.
Leaves us with a couple possibilities.
Either the husband found out about the affair and he arranged the hit on Galen or Galen threatened to expose the affair and Lydia set up the hit.
Either way, your visit to her this morning must have rattled her.
Because I didn't invite her to come down here.
I was about to when she called and she asked to come in with her attorney.
I know I wasn't completely forthcoming before.
I talked to my lawyer and she's impressed upon me that I need to tell you what I know.
Well, by all means, we're avid fans of civic duty here.
But if you're here to tell us you were sleeping with Galen Barrow, we already had a hunch.
- How? - He was seen entering your apartment on First Avenue.
That isn't your primary residence, is it? It belonged to my mother.
When she passed, my husband and I kept it so we could have a place in the city.
Was your husband aware you were putting your pied-à-terre to such use? No.
He never knew a thing.
- You're sure about that.
- Positive.
You said earlier that the man who killed Galen was coerced.
Coerced as in blackmailed? Because I was blackmailed too.
Funny, you didn't mention that this morning.
I was trying to protect my marriage.
I was afraid.
And I didn't do the right thing at first.
I'm sorry.
Why don't you tell us about the blackmail? About six months ago, someone started sending pictures of me and Galen outside the apartment.
Then text messages came demanding money, instructions where to leave it.
Look and you'll see.
Did you comply with the demands? Whoever it was, I just wanted to pay them off and be done with it.
The wording is pretty similar to the ones we saw yesterday.
Was Galen aware of the blackmail? He hated that I was giving them money.
- I begged him to just drop it.
- But he investigated anyway.
I thought I'd gotten through to him.
We had to break things off.
He had to move on.
But then when you said that the man who killed him was being blackmailed too, I don't think Galen let it go after all.
Mrs.
Guerrero, have you ever heard the name Gordon Meadows? Your husband's firm do any criminal work? Maybe Mr.
Meadows is a client.
- I don't think so.
No.
- Excuse me.
I'm sorry.
Give us a moment.
Joan? What are you doing? - Gordon Meadows' phone.
- CCS already checked it out.
There was nothing that would help ID the blackmailer.
Not directly, no, but we seek a connection between Mr.
Meadows and Ms.
Guerrero, do we not? An explanation as to how someone was aware of the transgressions of a sex offender and the dalliance of a cougar and her cub reporter and I believe I found one.
One that might also explain Galen Barrow's decision to become a part-time driver.
Both the blackmail victims used Zooss.
This is ridiculous.
We don't have the kind of information that you're looking for.
No? Does not each of your users sign away his or her privacy the moment they install your app? Have we not, every one of us, volunteered to carry around the most sophisticated surveillance and tracking device known to man? Brandon, would you please fire up Olympus? This is a bird's eye view of every car online in real time.
- You call it Olympus? - It's an inside joke.
View from the clouds, the logo, Greek mythology.
Oh, we get it.
I'm showing it to you to make a point.
This is literally all the information we have on our users.
Where they are, where and when we pick them up, where and when we drop them off.
That's it.
"That's it.
" You're describing a level of omniscience that's traditionally ascribed to God and Father Christmas.
Mr.
Frazer, we think someone in your company has been using this data to find people with things to hide.
Cross-referencing users' names, for example, with criminal records to see who might be doing things they shouldn't, figuring out who's having affairs based on where they go, what time, and for how long.
Two of your customers were blackmailed.
In both cases there was a direct correlation between their usage of Zooss and the activities the blackmailer was able to use against them.
For argument's sake, let's say someone here could do what you're saying, no one would.
He'd be an idiot.
Once you last a year here, you vest, you get stock options.
Eighty-five per cent of our employees are paper millionaires.
Nickel and dime extortion makes no sense.
We are Big Brother incarnate, but trust us because our motives are purely financial.
Whether you believe someone did it or not, we have that subpoena.
We'd like your employee records and data.
All due respect, this has got a pretty broad reach.
I'd like our lawyers to take a look at it first.
Indeed.
They might contest the invasion of privacy as being too ironic.
You wanna drag your feet on this, feel free.
Just keep in mind, this investigation could be handled quietly or it could show up on the evening news.
I don't know what that would do to your stock options but it's your call.
Brandon, can you please get these folks everything they need? It says if we follow the same trajectory - Agatha.
- Sherlock.
- These two gentlemen - More potential donors? If she's asked you to fetch mettle, I advise against it.
- Her motives are impure.
- Could you give us a moment? What the hell are you doing? - You really think I wouldn't realize? - Realize what? You've entered into another arrangement with my father.
Only this time, instead of approving a land deal, you're expected to produce an heir.
I know that his foundation has funded your research through 2023.
That's quite a commitment.
Only you could have done better.
It's going to take a lot longer to raise our love child.
I think you're confusing correlation with causation.
And you're confusing procreation with masturbation.
Father is thinking of himself.
No one else.
I represent the end of the Holmes' line.
And that just won't do.
You're right.
The idea did originate with your father.
But there's no quid pro quo.
The funding has been guaranteed.
Do you honestly imagine his lawyers won't be able to bind up that gentleman's request behind some technicality? My research is a good investment even for him.
- You don't know him the way I do.
- I know you.
I have been thinking about a baby for almost two years now.
I realized at a certain point that while I did not want the fuss of a marriage, I did want to be a mother.
I hadn't planned beyond that.
I was just glad to have made the decision.
And then quite coincidentally, I happened to run into your father.
I'm surprised he didn't offer to seed you himself.
He got me thinking and the more I thought about it, you are without question, the most remarkable man I've ever known.
You're brilliant, strong.
You made a career out of helping people.
There should be more of you.
You think I'm being selfish, this urge to create a new human life, one that's a part of me.
But you're being selfish too.
You have these gifts, Sherlock, this goodness.
So share them.
See what happens.
Might not be as wretched as you think.
What are you doing? You're territorial about this set-up.
You don't like me to touch it.
A judgment you have repeatedly validated.
I was just trying to hook up the Olympus data from Zooss, but it doesn't look like we have the right wiring.
Come on.
Thank you.
What about the personnel files they turned over? Police found anything? No one has a record if that's what you mean.
That's why I wanted to look at the Olympus records.
I thought maybe we could trace Gordon Meadows and Lydia Guerrero's moves the last few months.
See which employees logged on at what times.
- So how'd it go with Agatha? - Oh, I was right.
My father is the instigator.
Mm.
Sorry to hear that.
- Do you plan to reproduce? - Excuse me? Are you going to procreate at some point? I don't know.
I mean, I think about it sometimes.
I don't Why? - How did you do? - Don't be ashamed.
We can sign you up for a remedial course at a senior center.
Marcus.
He says he just got a call from a woman whose brother was a programmer at Zooss.
Right up until he was murdered last month.
I recognized him when I saw the news.
He came to see me after what happened to Patrick.
And he questioned you? I didn't know he was a driver for the company.
- He said he was a reporter.
- He was both.
We believe he started driving because he was digging into Zooss.
What did he want to know? Mostly about Patrick's job, like if I knew about any problems Patrick had at work.
I didn't.
Your brother's case is unsolved.
The detective wrote that it was a robbery gone wrong.
Did you think it was more than that? Not until today.
Somebody attacked him outside of his apartment, stole his wallet.
They had a pipe.
We thought that he was gonna pull through.
Maybe if someone had found him sooner.
He was in the hospital for a few days.
Were you able to talk to him before he passed? They had him in a medically induced coma.
There were complications.
He never woke up.
We thought it was like the cop said, a mugging.
But when I saw this guy was killed, I thought I should say something.
It seemed like too big a coincidence.
Yeah.
Yeah.
It's possible that Patrick detected the presence of a blackmailer inside Zooss.
That's why he was targeted.
It would be helpful for us if we could look at his phone and computer.
Do you have those? All his stuff is still at his place in Cobble Hill.
I've been meaning to go back there, it's just that's where it happened.
Out front.
It's been hard going back.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Perhaps we could go for you.
I mean, the longest conversation that he and I ever had was probably when he interviewed to take the room.
Um, when he wasn't working he was just watching basketball, like 24/7.
I don't think the murders of Patrick Kemp and Galen Barrow are related after all.
That was fast.
Given the nature of Kemp's wounds, I'm sure you concurred, as did I, with the N.
Y.
P.
D.
's initial assessment.
It was not an intentional murder.
With a little more luck, he might have survived.
Now I think we know why.
Sports almanacs? I wager, pun intended, that Patrick Kemp was attacked over gambling debts.
I'm not getting a very sporty vibe here.
Precisely.
His roommate said he was obsessed with basketball.
But there's no whiff of fandom in here.
He's a collector of statistical almanacs and team schedules, spreadsheets of games won and lost.
There's not so much as a t-shirt with a team logo on it.
Now, it seems that his interest was purely financial.
Well, maybe he just preferred shirts with collars.
If I'm wrong, where is his guitar? Where are any of the creature comforts that you might expect an upwardly mobile young programmer to acquire? I submit that he's pawned them all, in an ultimately unsuccessful attempt to keep up with the vig and perhaps buy an unusual amount of burner phones.
Actually, that makes sense.
I think you're right.
Patrick Kemp wasn't killed by the blackmailer at Zooss he was the blackmailer at Zooss.
Kemp died over a month ago.
Galen Barrow died three nights ago.
If Kemp was the blackmailer, who had Barrow killed? - Sherlock? - Up here.
- Oh.
What's all this? - The view from Olympus.
Or views, rather.
This is from last Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, so on and so forth.
But we only asked for this data so we could help identify the blackmailer.
We already know it's Patrick Kemp.
The same Patrick Kemp who died four weeks before Galen Barrow was murdered.
We know that Barrow sought to undo a blackmailer at Zooss but it occurred to me, what if he'd stumbled across some other secret along the way? I thought that tracing his movements might point us in the direction of the orchestrator of his murder.
You think he was getting too close to someone else? Someone who knew about Kemp's activities.
Someone who also had something to lose.
The cars are moving so fast.
Did you accelerate the feed? What better way to trace the movements of several thousand Zooss users over several months? Wait.
You watched everything they gave us in one night? As you can see, I'm almost entirely caught up.
What happened to just studying Galen's movements? I defy you to look at the city from this vantage point - and not discern certain patterns.
- What do you mean? Bryce Newsom.
He is a scoundrel.
Quite prone to one-night stands.
There is hope, because he's taken to seeing a therapist every Tuesday night at 7:00.
Leon Kennard, ad executive.
He requires a change of scenery.
Why else would he be paying visits to his company's competitors during his off hours? April Lindgren.
Her comings and goings are the very definition of predictable or at least they were until several weeks ago.
Her son has been diagnosed with some form of cancer.
Leukemia, judging by the experts she's conferred.
She's been spending the bulk of her time at the hospital, although she did pay a recent visit to a funeral home, presumably to make arrangements.
Why did you put yourself through all this? I assure you I didn't intend to, but once I started Okay, say you're right.
The person who killed Galen Barrow had something to lose.
Maybe someone at Zooss figured out he was poking around and had Galen killed to protect the company.
Like I was saying You think that someone from Zooss is behind Galen Barrow's murder.
You're right, but you're wrong.
It's not to do with protecting the company.
- What are you talking about? - Olympus.
It gave me the answers that we seek several hours ago.
I know who the killer is.
We're going to see him this morning.
My assistant just told me you were here.
She said you had more questions? - Mr.
Falchek, have a seat.
- Should I get Eric and the others? No, no, we'll be speaking with them presently.
Does the name Felice Armistead mean anything to you? No.
Why would it? She's a Zooss user.
Has been since September 2013.
I'm confused.
Is this the person you think killed Galen? No.
It's the person we think he was killed over.
As a customer, I'd classify her usage as mundane.
Her pickups and drop-offs were almost exclusively - Hey! - From her home or her office.
She utilized your cars to, uh, frequent a number of, you know, spas and restaurants, as well as a fairly tight circle of friends and family.
Then one day, a deviation.
She used one of your vehicles to visit a police station.
Would it interest you to know that of all the Zooss users in Manhattan, only 36 people have used your cars to go to or from a police station in the last six months? The average citizen pays a visit to a precinct once in a lifetime.
They are places to be avoided so these individuals stood out like 36 sore thumbs.
As it turns out, 19 of them work in and around the department.
Cops, attorneys, administrators.
Ten were witnesses who were asked to give a statement and the remaining seven went there to report a crime.
Ms.
Armistead was one of those seven.
She told a detective about some disturbing emails she'd been receiving.
Some creep with an anonymous server kept sending her messages.
"I'm watching you.
I know what you're wearing.
I know who you're with.
" Many of the emails were more explicit than that, but that's neither here nor there.
The point is she was being stalked.
Stalked by someone who always seemed to know exactly where she was.
And you're telling me this because? One night, her stalker got brave enough to break into her house.
He was picking through her drawers when she surprised him.
There was a struggle.
He broke her cheekbone before he got away.
The next day, she took a Zooss car to go and stay with her parents in Westchester.
Obviously she failed to understand that her stalked had been using Olympus to watch her all along.
Now, we found records that indicate you cut off Patrick Kemp's access to Olympus seven weeks ago.
Probably because you realized he was blackmailing people.
You kept it quiet.
If you hadn't, he could've brought the whole company down.
Not that we think you did what you did to protect your shares in the company.
No.
You did it to protect your favorite peephole into the life of your favorite prey.
I wondered when and where you first laid eyes on Ms.
Armistead, so I attempted to track your movements using Olympus over the last several months.
It turns out, you don't partake of your own company's service.
Wonder why.
- I want a lawyer.
- That's fine.
He can join us for the lineup you're gonna be in.
At the station.
Ms.
Armistead didn't get a look at you that night, but her description was enough to make me think of you.
I predict she'll have little trouble picking you out.
I assume, since you asked to meet me here rather than a room downstairs, you've decided not to impregnate me.
At least the old-fashioned way.
It's okay, Sherlock.
The things I said yesterday, I put too much pressure on you.
You made some good points.
Not enough to sway you, though.
You're right.
I am remarkable.
That's precisely why I can't help you.
What does you being amazing have to do? No, no, I didn't say I was amazing.
I said I was remarkable.
The things that I do, the things that you care about, um You think that I do them because I'm a good person.
I do them because it would hurt too much not to.
Because you're a good person.
You know, it hurts, Agatha.
All this.
Everything I see, everything I hear, touch, smell The conclusions that I'm able to draw.
The things that are revealed to me.
The ugliness.
My work focuses me.
It helps.
You say that I'm using my gifts.
I say I'm just treating them.
So I cannot, in good conscience, pass all of that onto someone else.
Sorry.
So did Agatha really decide to go home one day early or did you just not want to pay for another night at Lutece? The bearskin rug is gone.
It is now safe to move about the brownstone.
Well, I'm sorry things didn't work out between you two.
You can't be.
There was nothing to work out.
And there was nothing to work out because there's nothing between us.
I was just taking advantage of her absence to dig through some cold cases.
- You want company? - No, thank you.
How about some ice cream? You know, it's stuff that people eat when they're feeling a little down? I have everything I need right here.
Okay.
What kind of ice cream? I'll bring you a couple of choices.