Castle 4x14 The Noir Parts - 1/2

Keep 'em comin', pal. You're doing great. Say, maybe you can help me. I'm lookin' for a dame. Aren't we all? This one's special. You know her? Know her? I'm lookin' at her. And where have you been all my life? Talk about a slice of history. The Pennybaker Club. You know, back in the '40s, all the greats played here. If these walls could talk, man, the stories they would tell. Yeah, but the only story we need to hear is about... Stan Banks. Single GSW to the sternum. I'm calling the time of death between 6:00 and 8:00 this morning. Looks like he tried to defend himself with this. Obviously, it didn't work. So a robbery gone wrong? Well, he still had his wallet, cell, and a room key from the Parksville Arms, so... Pockets were pulled out, indicating the killer searched the body. For what, we have no idea. That's weird. He's got an SRO key, but his driver's license has him living on 34th Street. We'll hit the SRO. See if there's anything we can find out about him. Thanks. You lookin' for a drink, Castle? 'Cause I'm pretty sure the bar is closed. Actually, I was looking for a clue. I think I found one. Some homeless guy's squat, and... today's "Ledger." He was here this morning. Well, whoever he is, maybe he saw something. I'll get patrol units to canvass the area. Stan's dead? Well, that's just great. What am I supposed to do with all his crap? We'll be taking some of it off your hands as part of our investigation. You know of anyone who's been threatening Stan lately? I'm the manager here, not the den mother. Okay, then. When was the last time you saw him? Uh, this morning. Stan was all smiles. Gave notice he was moving out 'cause his ship was coming in. - What ship? - Oh, I don't know. The "Titanic" from the looks of things. Well, if you can remember anything else, can you please give me a call? Don't hold your breath, hotshot. I think she likes you. I have no idea why Stan was at the Pennybaker Club. But we've been separated for almost a year, so God knows where he's been. And when was the last time you spoke with him? Two months ago, which is crazy, 'cause there was a time we couldn't go two hours without talking. But then Stan had to go and find that doubloon. A doubloon, as in old Spanish coin? He dug one up on a beach in North Carolina. And after that, he got the bug. And it only got worse after he saw this stupid documentary about Clyde Belasco, the treasure hunter. Yeah, that's the fellow who found that sunken confederate ship ten years ago. Stan was so inspired, he quit his accounting job to search for lost antiquities. I mean, even the last time we spoke, all he could talk about was how he was close to finding a blue butterfly. A blue... like an insect? Who knows? Was he having problems with anyone that you know of? He had money problems. I know that. I got a call two days ago from some guy looking for Stan. Said that Stan owed him $10,000 and that he'd better pay or else. There's nothing in Stan's personal effects about butterflies, blue or otherwise. Just a bunch of books about mobsters and Manhattan in the '40s. That's all right, because I got a hit on that threatening money call to Stan's wife, and it turns out it came from a dry cleaners. Maybe clothes aren't the only thing they're laundering. I'll check it out. Thanks. Uh, this diary in Stan's stuff, it's also from the '40s. It sounds like it belonged to a private eye. Listen to this. "Usually wives turn on the waterworks "when shown pictures of their husbands stepping out, "but not this dame. "She wanted payback. So what's worse, "that I pitched woo with a client or that I invoiced her for services rendered after?" Cute. Cute? I mean, this guy sounds like a hard-boiled PI. Right out of a Raymond Chandler novel. I wonder why Stan had this? Hey, yo, Beckett. Still got no word on that homeless guy, but a bodega owner saw a white Mustang parked in the loading zone right outside the club for the past three days. Okay. See if anyone saw those license plates. - Right on. - Okay. Um, Beckett? Can I take this home for the night? I mean, it might be the key to what Stan was looking for. You just want to read it because you think it's cool. Yeah, well, that, too. Okay, just so long as you... bring it back in the morning. "June 18, 1947. "The day began like every other, "pulling awake in my office chair "with a cream of Kentucky bottle, "a dry throat, "and a head that was ringing like church bells. "So I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone with a little hair of the dog that bit me." Damn it, Mr. Flynn. Why have an apartment when you drink yourself to sleep in the office every night? That way, I'm never late for work. Say, what gives, anyhow? We have a potential client, so be nice. I'd like to make next month's rent if you don't mind. All right? How do I look? Like a star. "Just another day on the Isle of Manhattan"... "Until she walked in "with a case that changed my life. "Wearing t-strap shoes and a country suit, "I could tell that that redhead was a hick fresh off the cob." Hello. My name's Sally Mulqueen. I mean, Scofield. Sorry, I'm a newlywed. Still gettin' used to the name. Joe Flynn, Mrs. Scofield. So tell me, what has you knocking on my shingle? I-I talked my husband into honeymoonin' up here in the Big Apple, but not because I wanted to climb skyscrapers and see Broadway shows. I had myself another reason. See, I'm lookin' for my big sister Vera. Vera Mulqueen. There was bad blood back home, and Vera ran off two years ago with dreams of being a showgirl up here in the big city. She send you a wire, postcard, anything with a return address? Can you find her, mister? Mama's sick, and, um... doesn't have long. Well, of course he can. For 15 bucks a day plus expenses. Only... can we keep this quiet? Like I said, there's bad blood back home, and if Vera hears from a stranger that the family's looking for her, it might push her farther away. Mrs. Scofield, if I'm anything, I'm discreet. "And that's when I saw her. "Looking at that photograph, all I could think was, what a beautiful doll." "Sally said Vera had dreams of being a showgirl. "Maybe she made it. Stranger things have happened in this town." "My last stop was the Pennybaker Club. I was hoping my favorite performer Satchmo was blowing." "But no such luck. "Couldn't complain, though, "because Betsy Sinclair was up there, and that songbird's got golden pipes." Whiskey. "I'll be damned if all that walking "didn't get the shrapnel in my hip buzzing. But I knew where to get my medicine." Say, maybe you can help me. I'm lookin' for a dame. Aren't we all? This one's special. You know her? Know her? I'm lookin' at her. And where have you been all my life? "What was I thinking? "This dame was trouble on two legs. "I kept telling myself to look away. "She was with Tom Dempsey, for crying out loud-- "the most ruthless mob boss New York has ever given birth to." "Dempsey sent over two of his gorillas-- "an Irishman, and a Cuban on loan from some Havana mob family." The boss wants to see you, boy-o. Sorry, boys. My dance card's full. This isn't a request, compadre. You know who I am? The waiter? I'll take a whiskey. The boys here can share a sloe gin fizz. Better watch yourself, there, boy-o. Hold your tongue, or I'll cut it out. Mm, a wise guy. I hate wise guys about as much as I hate crumbs eyeballing my girl. It's rude, uncivil. That's all right, friend. The boys are gonna teach you some lessons. Okay, boy-o, first lesson. Over here. Get him. "There I was, "covered in the discards of the blue plate special, "asking myself, was it worth it?" "It was. She was worth every punch." Are you hurt? What, this? It's nothin'. You should see what my face did to the other guy's fist. So what's your name, tough guy? Does it matter, doll? Vera! You know you're not supposed to leave our sight with the boss' hardware on. The blue butterfly. It's a necklace. That's why Stan Banks was killed. Why am I narrating? Sync by YYeTs.net Corrections by Alex1969 www.addic7ed.com So anything on that threatening call to the dry cleaners? Yeah, the owner claims he doesn't know anything about Stan or blue butterflies. However, a guy named Ray Horton rents out a back room. Turns out Ray is a *** on parole. Okay, so maybe Stan was trying to meet Ray at the Pennybaker so that he could pay off some debts? Uh, Stan was not there because of his debt. He was not even there about a blue butterfly. He was there about The Blue Butterfly. It's a necklace. A butterfly-shaped centerpiece made entirely of... blue diamonds. Worth about a million dollars, easy. Where are you getting all of this? From the PI's diary. So Stan was on a treasure hunt. Exactly. I did a little research. I turns out the blue butterfly disappeared sometime in the '40s, and rumor has it, it's hidden somewhere in the Pennybaker Club. If he found it... A million-dollar necklace? Talk about motive for ***. By the way, Ryan, say boy-o. - Boy-o. - Boy-o. - Boy-o. - Boy-o. - Boy- o. - Boy-o. - Boy- o. - Anyway. Did some searching on the net. There wasn't a lot there. But I found, it's supposedly cursed, and at one time belonged to an SS officer's mistress. After the war, made its way stateside and into the hands of mob boss Tom Dempsey, who owned the club, which is why we need to go back. - We do? - Yeah. You remember the, uh, green rod we found in Stan's hand? Apparently, Dempsey's downstairs office was painted shamrock green. Stan had to have gone down there. Also, according to the diary, the blue butterfly was kept in a secret safe in Dempsey's office. It's very possible we missed something. We never really looked down there. Okay, Ryan, you see if you can get ahold of the ***. Castle and I will go back to the crime scene. Okay. - Boy-o. - Boy-o. - Boy-o. - Boy-o. - Like a leprechaun. - Castle. Sorry. So the PI tells Sally that he found her sister here at the Pennybaker Club. And did Sally go talk to her sister? Well, no. Joe could tell that Sally, being an innocent girl from the country, she was a little bit nervous about dealing with mobsters, so he offered to go back and make contact with Vera. Out of the goodness of his heart, I'm sure. Can you blame the guy? I mean, she was gorgeous. So anyway, Joe tells Sally he's gonna go arrange a meeting. Sally agreed, but again, insisted that Joe not tell Vera that she was looking for her because of all the animosity back home. Ah. I was right. I bet that's where he got the steel rod, which is probably what he used to pry open the secret safe. Hate to burst bubbles, Castle, but this hasn't held anything in years. Looks like Stan was disappointed. Yeah, he probably would've been if that was the secret safe. That's not the secret safe? Here's a fun fact-- people often kept two safes, one that was easy to find for minor valuables, and a second safe that was much harder to locate for the extra specials, like blue butterflies. Castle, where's the secret safe? Coming to that. So it's five days since Joe and Vera met. And they were very much in love. After only five days? Come on. Well, people didn't waste time back in the '40s. Matter of fact, they were so much in love... Well, they risked it all. So what does that have to do with our secret safe? And it happened backstage. Right upstairs. They were stealing a moment together, which was dangerous, because she was Dempsey's girl. As they stared into each other's eyes, Kate's heart quickened. Did you just say "Kate"? Are you picturing the PI as you and me as the gangster's moll? What? No. And I didn't say "Kate." I said "fate." "Fate's heart quickened." I was being poetic. God. Anyway, as I was saying, they were just about to kiss when... Oye, chico! Who's that? Hey, boy-o. You must be a slow learner. There's my baby. He's with you, Miss Sinclair? Yes, and I don't appreciate you lugs mopping the floor with him the other night. Not for nothin', but you need to keep this on the hush-hush. Dempsey's not too keen about mixed laundry. Well, then we'll just keep this our little secret. What do you say? All right, fellas. You better wise up, Vera. Dempsey will have you butchered if he finds out. I mean, he's a hell of a smoocher and all, but, damn it, girl, is this yum-yum really worth it? He's the cream in my coffee. You two are a walking fairy tale. Good lord. Come on. Betsy's right, you know? Dempsey will scrag us for sure if he catches us turtle-doving. You gotta get me away from here, Joe, away from Dempsey, away from all of it. Oh, yeah, and go where? We can blow this town, sure. Only how far are we gonna get when we're both flat broke? We're not broke, Joe. We've got all the money we need and more around my neck. All we gotta do is take it away with us. What, are you daffy? You got at least two brunos with you at all times when you're wearing that thing. It's funny. Back when I was a cigarette girl, I'd watch Dempsey coming in with his girlfriend wearing this thing around her neck, and I wanted it. Pretty soon, I was his girl and I had it. But it's not a necklace, Joe. It's a diamond noose, and it's getting harder to breathe. Then we gotta turn that noose into a lifeline. The question is, how? When I'm not wearing it, Dempsey keeps it in a secret safe, and I know where it is. And? And... that's it. That was the last entry in the diary. What do you mean, that's it? What happened to Joe? - What happened to Vera? - I don't know. Well, why would you tell a story when you don't know the ending? If you wanted a beginning and a middle and an end, I have 27 novels you can choose from. Ugh. Okay, so where is this secret safe? I don't know, but I think Stan must have found it. Maybe that's why he needed that rod, to pry open a wall or something. Castle, look at the molding. What... It's unlocked. Stan found it. That's why he was killed. But by whom? Ray Horton. Assault, battery, and now you're using a dry cleaners to front your bookmaking operation. Whoa. Slow your roll. A man on parole like myself can't be mixed up in bookmaking. How about ***, Ray? Is it okay to get mixed up in that? Stan? And who--who killed him? Me? Why would I kill my business partner? Your business partner? Come on. It's true, man. One of my clients hooked us up. He knew that I was looking to diversify and that Stan needed financing to find this lost necklace. Stan told me he needed 10 g's for expenses and to buy this old private detective's diary. So I agreed to back him for half the profits. Well, if that's true, then why did you threaten Stan's wife? Because Stan was ducking me. I thought I got played. Then he came up to me two days ago, and he told me what was up. He said he found the man with the missing piece of the puzzle to the blue butterfly. - And who's this man? - I don't know. But if Stan found the blue butterfly, that's probably who killed him. So I traced the diary. Stan did his research. He purchased it from the granddaughter of Joe's old secretary, a woman by the name of Ruth Huntsacker. So? So I spoke to Mrs. Huntsacker. She said, she might still have some of the PI's old papers and they might be able to tell us what happened. She's gonna have her son look for them and then call me back. Look, Castle, I admit that Joe and Vera's story is fun and romantic, but whatever happened back in 1947 has nothing to do with who murdered Stan. Uh... I'm not so sure about that. Our *** alibied out. But ballistics came in, and we got a match. The 38-caliber revolver that killed Stan was used in an unsolved double homicide in 1947. I knew there was a connection. Who were the victims? Uh, some lady named Vera Mulqueen and a private detective named Joe Flynn. Murdered. That's too bad. I really thought those two crazy kids were gonna make it. Yeah, not exactly the ending I was hoping for. I didn't even know ballistics went back that far. Oh, yeah. Since the '20s. Being that it's an old case, there's not much in the system. The remains of Joe Flynn and Vera Mulqueen were found in Flynn's car. Both victims were shot with a .38 revolver and the car was set on fire. Only suspect was Tom Dempsey, but there was never enough evidence to arrest. You know what? I bet you Dempsey caught the two of them trying to run away together, and he killed them. But how does Stan's killer get Dempsey's gun 60 years later? Unless... Dempsey killed Stan. He'd be, what, like 90 years old, but it's still possible? Couldn't have been Dempsey. He died of a heart attack four months after Joe and Vera were killed. Still... We should dig up that 1947 police report. There could be something in there about the gun that could shed some light on Stan's ***. All right. I'll go to the warehouse and I'll pull up the old case files. Oh, oh, uh, I want to go. Uh, okay. - Can I drive? - I don't care. Hey. So... I did a search of guns Dempsey used to own. Turns out there was an estate sale where a treasure hunter named Clyde Belasco bought all of Dempsey's firearms, including 2 .38s. Wait. Clyde Belasco? Stan's wife said that the two of them watched a documentary about him, and that inspired Stan to become a treasure hunter. Well, the connections don't stop there. Belasco flew in from France a week ago, and I just found an article that said that he searched for the blue butterfly for 15 years. That *** said that Stan found someone who had the missing piece of the puzzle. Well, maybe Belasco's that someone. Here it is. This has been dusted off recently. Looks like we're not the only ones interested in this case. Stan was here. Had to be. Think about it-- the diary, the murders... All we're doing is walking in his footsteps. This is the next piece of the puzzle. Huh. Crime scene photo of Vera and the PI. Damn it, Joe. You old sap. Dizzy with a dame and got yourself cooked. So, Mr. Bogart, what exactly are we looking for here? Our 1947 murders and our present-day *** have to be connected by more than just a gun. Somewhere in here is that connection. Yes, I bought several of Tom Dempsey's revolvers. And by all means, test fire every last one of them as you wish. We will. Now... how do you know Stan? You have to understand that I'm on television. Articles are written about me. Because of this, the amateurs come a-knocking. It's an occupational hazard. And what was the purpose of Stan's visit? Why, the blue butterfly, of course. He must have read of my exploits searching for it and decided to burden me with his preposterous story. And what story was that? That he had found an old private investigator's diary, which held missing clues. You didn't believe him? Of course not. When I asked to see the alleged diary, he refused. And yet, he wanted access to all my research on the Pennybaker Club. I mean, really, the whole thing was absurd. He even asked to exit out the back door. Said a car was following him. It was a white Mustang. I guess someone else was interested in the blue butterfly, too. It feels like we're looking for a needle in a haystack, except for, we can't find the haystack. Who needs a haystack when the needle is right here? This is a statement from Joe's secretary Mrs. Kennard. It was taken right after his death. "Mrs. Florence Kennard, "secretary to the victim Joe Flynn, "attested to bearing witness to the following conversation between both victims on the morning of June 24, 1947." I've worked this from every angle, doll. There's no way we can crack Dempsey's secret safe. Well, then how are we gonna get it? Easy. You're gonna walk right out the door with it tonight. How? It was hard enough shaking Dempsey's hatchet men this morning. It's gonna be that much harder when I'm wearing the blue butterfly. It'll be a cakewalk. Trust me. Especially with our friend Jimmy Doyle helping us out. - And who's Jimmy Doyle? - He's a prizefighter, and tonight he's taking on Sugar Ray Robinson for the welterweight title. So? So every clover-loving Irishman worth his salt will be huddled around a radio tonight, cheering good ol' Jimmy on. You're gonna wait till a rousing part of the fight. Then you're gonna excuse yourself. Whoever's assigned to be watching you surely won't be paying much attention. That's when you slip right out the back door, where I'll be waiting for you. Oh, Joe. It's perfect. No, it's crazy. What are you thinkin', Mr. Flynn? And I can tell you, this Jane's no good. Now what are you on about? Look at me. I'm a new man. I'm a better man. I haven't even had a drink since I met Vera, and if that's not a minor miracle, I don't know what is. You would be better off with the *** than with this chippy. A-and what are you basing a relationship on, huh, a robbery and a lie? What lie? Well, I guess it's time to come clean, huh? Look, doll, it's no coincidence I met you in the club that night. I was hired to come find you, see? Only I couldn't tell you who. It's just... Cut the corners, Joe. Who hired you? It was your sister. Joe... I don't have a sister. What happens next? I don't know. That's the end of the statement. But if Sally wasn't Vera's sister, then who was she? Sally set up the PI. It's a classic film noir twist. - But why? - I don't know. - What was Sally up to? - I don't know. Do you think she was connected to Dempsey? I don't know, but isn't this great? Yo, Beckett. Hey. So our uniforms got a line on that homeless guy who was squatting in the Pennybaker. A hot dog vendor IDed him. Said the guy goes by the name of West Side Wally. I put a want out on the guy. Great. That might be the break we need to catch Stan's killer. Excuse me. - Mm-hmm. - Hello. What? When? All right. I'm on my way. Thank you. That was the manager of Stan's residency hotel. A guy driving a white Mustang just forced his way into Stan's room, and he's still there. NYPD! Show us your hands. Show us your hands. Now! Turn around slowly. You're Tom Dempsey. Yeah, that's me. Tom Dempsey III. Dead ringer. Complete doppelganger. It's DNA, guys. It's not a magic trick. I'm his grandson. All right, look. I'm sorry I broke in a door. I'll pay for the damages. It's no big deal. Why am I still here? Well, we were just curious to see if you inherited anything else from your grandfather, aside from his looks. Yeah, like one of his .38 revolvers that you used to kill Stan Banks. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. That didn't happen. Look, Stan came to me, only he told me his name was Nathaniel Jenkins. He said he was a biographer, said he wanted to do a story about my grandfather. He promised not to focus on his underworld dealings, just on the--the good stuff, like how my granddad was a pillar of the community. More like a killer of the community. And so when he made his pitch, you, wanting to rehabilitate your family name, cooperated. Yeah. I gave him access to all of granddad's old papers, and everything was cool. Until I found out the whole thing was a lie. And how'd you do that? There's this singer who used to headline at my granddad's club-- Betsy Sinclair. Couple weeks ago, she passed away. Well, I went there to pay my respects, and who do I see there but Nathaniel, chatting up this old guy. He sees me, jets out the back. I'm like, "what the hell is this all about," right? So I look in the guest book. I figured it out. He'd signed his real name-- Stan Banks. Which is when you figured out he wasn't really a biographer. He was just another lowlife treasure hunter, looking for the blue butterfly. And if anybody deserved the blue butterfly, it was you, right? So you followed Stan. And when Stan found it, you shot him. No, I did not-- I did not shoot him. Stan--wait. Stan did find it? Come on. You tell us. I don't know. I was not there. I read in the newspaper that the guy was dead. I went to his apartment to see what I could find. And I didn't kill the guy. So Dempsey's alibi holds up. He didn't kill Stan. Well, that's all right, because we caught a break. Unis finally tracked down West Side Wally. They're bringing him in now. Great. Maybe that can shed some light as to what happened to Stan. And if he can't, maybe Jerry Maddox can. Jerry Maddox? You remember how Tom III told us that Stan went to Betsy Sinclair's funeral? I started thinking, why would he go? To do research. Right, but research on whom? So I stopped by the funeral parlor. Turns out that Stan spent an awful lot of time with a friend of the deceased named Jerry Maddox. And get this-- Jerry was the old bartender at the Pennybaker Club, and probably the last living link to the blue butterfly. Good job, Castle. Yeah? Yeah. Jerry. This is detective Beckett and Mr. Castle. They wanted a word. Oh, yeah. You want some soup? It's homemade. Oh, I don't mind if I do. That smells delicious. Uh, no, thank you. Actually, we're--we're all right. Am I hearing "I can't give you anything but love"? That's right, kid. That's the best version of that tune, too. You come here to talk music, did you? Actually, we're here to investigate Stan Banks' ***, and we were wondering if you met him at Betsy Sinclair's funeral. Yeah. He--he was murdered? - Mm-hmm. - Poor kid. Did he mention a necklace called the blue butterfly? Oh, sure. Asked me all kinds of questions. Uh, where it might be, stuff like that, but I was just a bartender back then. I-I wasn't much help. Ah. Now this might seem an odd question, but in 1947, do you remember when Vera Mulqueen and Joe Flynn were murdered? Of course. It was a big deal back then. Dempsey, the fella that owned the club, shot them in cold blood. The same year, do you remember a woman named Sally Scofield? She was a redhead. In 1947, she would've been about 18. Oh, I think I know who you're talking about. Now that's back in '46. I had just got hired at the Pennybaker. Cigarettes. Cigars. Dempsey wasn't dating Vera back then. He was going with a gal named Priscilla Campbell. Priscilla had a daughter, a redhead named Sally. Sounds like she's the one you mean. Sad story, what happened. Not long after Vera caught Dempsey's eye, he dropped Priscilla and cut her and Sally off cold. They said it was the curse of the blue butterfly. Priscilla killed herself with a handful of pills. And Sally? Couple months after, uh, Vera and that PI got whacked, Dempsey died of a heart attack. The evening of his funeral, in walks Sally, all dressed up. Ordered a whiskey neat, slammed it back, gave me a big ol' crocodile grin, said she was free. Then she strutted on out the door, and that's the last time I ever saw her. It's a revenge story. Sally blamed Vera for the death of her mother, so she plotted to take her down. Somehow she used the PI to do it. She must have been setting them up. Yeah, but how does any of this help us figure out who shot Stan? So... West Side Wally. May I call you Wally? I prefer West Side. Of course. West Side, we know you were at the Pennybaker Club - two days ago. - Yeah, we found your squat. Whoa. Cagney and Lacey, you can stop right there. I wasn't living in the club two days ago. I had already gotten bought out by the other guy. - Bought out? - By the other guy? A few days ago, the other guy comes in, starts setting up a squat by the bar, but West Side Wally doesn't do neighbors. So I said, "Hey, professor, kick rocks." He wouldn't take no for an answer. Ended up paying me $400 to relocate. So again, for the record this time, I wasn't there. Easy, easy, okay. Did you get this guy's name? I didn't ask. He didn't say. Can you describe him? Medium height, medium build, white, 50s. I called him the professor because he spoke like a pretentious jerk. Hey, it's the professor. Clyde Belasco. We know that you were at the Pennybaker Club, Mr. Belasco. You paid off a homeless man so that you could have the place to yourself. I have a condo on the Upper East Side, a chateau in Bordeaux, a chalet in Gstaad, and yet, on the word of some vagrant, you believe that I paid to squat in an abandoned building? Me? Clyde Belasco? Pretty much. I'd like to see you prove it, sir. All right, have it your way, professor. We will see you at the sentencing hearing. You can do your TV show from prison. Wait. Okay. I was there. I admit it. I was at the Pennybaker Club when Stan was killed. But I didn't kill him. Like I said before, Stan came to me and asked for my research on the blue butterfly. And you said no? Of course I said no. I searched for that necklace for 15 years, and now I'm just supposed to help him? The glory was to be mine. But you knew he was on to something, didn't you? Oh, yes. I could tell he was close, so very close. Stan knew things about the club, about the necklace that I had never heard before. So you staked out the club, and when Stan showed, you shot him. I didn't shoot him, detective. Yes, I had a pistol with me and a bullwhip. They're my trademarks. Everyone knows that. But I brought a mask and gloves as well because I was simply going to threaten him and take the prize. So then what happened? I was lying in wait. Stan went downstairs, and when he returned, he was... holding the blue butterfly. Oh, you should've seen how it sparkled. Magnificent. I was about to pounce when suddenly there was a-a rag put over my mouth. It had a sweet smell, like it was doused with chloroform. Chloroform? - Really? - It had to be. Everything went dark, and when I came to, Stan was dead. I searched his body, but whoever knocked me out took the blue butterfly with them. God, I hope it's him. Yeah, but without a confession, our case is purely circumstantial. I'm gonna see if I can get a warrant for Belasco's place. Which place, the condo, the chateau, or the chalet? Hi, yeah, this is detective Kate Beckett, 12th precinct. I'm calling for the riding ADA. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Okay. I'll hold. Well, it's kind of disappointing. I was really hoping that solving Stan's *** would give us some answers to what really happened to Joe and Vera. Yeah, but what we already know what really happened. Dempsey killed them both. Well, that's the obvious version. But what about Sally? What's her part in all of this? And... why would she hire Joe? Well, I guess we'll never know. No, something else was going on. Something we're missing. "Wearing t-strap shoes and a country suit, I could tell that redhead was a hick off the cob." Wait. What did you just say? Well, that's just how Joe described her in his diary. No, the--the part about the shoes? T-strap. It's when the strap comes over the-- Yeah. Can I just call you back? Okay. Take a look at this photo. There's a shoe next to the car. And look at what kind of shoe it is. That's a t-strap. You don't think... If Vera was at the club that night, she'd be dressed in an elegant dress and... And heels. This isn't Vera. This is Sally. Yeah, but it can't be Sally. The bartender said that he saw her months after the murders. Unless... - he lied. - He lied. But that was over half a century ago. Why would he lie about that? - Beckett, I just realized something. - Huh? "I can't give you anything but love." W-what? That's what was playing when we interviewed the bartender. Right. Right. He said that that was the best version of the song. It was Louis Armstrong's version. In Joe's diary, he says his favorite performer is Satchmo. What's Satchmo's real name? Louis Armstrong. Put it all together, the answer is clear. Oh. Hello again. Hello, Vera. And hello, Joe. Well, if it isn't Vera Mulqueen and Joe Flynn, back from the dead. Everything all right, guys? Everything's peachy. Thanks, Frankie. What happened? Stan figured out the truth, that you two were alive, that you murdered two people so you could disappear with the blue butterfly? So you lured him to the club and then you shot him? Lady, you got it all wrong. Stan cornered me at Betsy's funeral, wanting to know how I knew her. So I lied and told him I was a bartender. But Stan was clever. He was too clever. He figured us out. He came here demanding to know where the blue butterfly was. He threatened to expose us. He was like a dog after a bone. So we told him what he needed to know. We told him where it was. But we didn't kill him. Oh, come on, you guys. We know it's you. You used the same gun from the '47 murders to kill Stan. Same gun? Oh, we keep that gun in the-- The China cabinet drawer. Don't even think about it. Put the gun down. Francis Benjamin Huntsacker, what have you done? Wait a minute. Huntsacker? It was your mother who sold the diary to Stan. What diary? Your diary. So you read it, and all this time, you were looking for the necklace, too. That's why I got this crap job. And for six months, I slowly built trust, gently acquired information. And then that jerk just waltzes in here and bullies the location of the blue butterfly from you? Come on! So when you realized it was now or never, you bushwhacked Stan, took the blue butterfly for yourself? I brought their old .38 only as a precaution. I was just gonna chloroform Stan and steal it. But you found Clyde Belasco hiding behind the bar. I pulled the gun, Stan grabbed for it... Look, I didn't mean to. Let's go, Frankie. You're under arrest. Hey, Castle, guess what we found at Frankie's apartment. Oh, my. Oh, my God. It's beautiful. - It's fake. - What? We confirmed it with an appraiser. It's well-crafted costume jewelry. All this time, and it's paste? That's... Or maybe it's a twist on a twist. Maybe the real blue butterfly was switched out for this one years ago. Well, whatever happened, it doesn't change the facts. We still have one more case to close. Okay, so now we know that Frankie killed Stan, but there are still two murders that need to be solved-- Sally Campbell and whoever else you put in that car. It's time you come clean on what happened the evening of June 24, 1947, the night you disappeared. Tell them, Vera. We were all huddled around the, uh, radio, listening to the Sugar Ray Robinson/ Jimmy Doyle prizefight, and, uh, I was building up nerve to make my escape. Breaks up the clinch. A slowly tiring Jimmy Doyle throws a left, another left. Here comes Robinson. A left. A right. Another left... Moxie, I need to powder my nose. Are you kidding me? Can it wait? No. Ah, what do you say, boss? Yeah, yeah, yeah, make it quick. Robinson regroups. Robinson delivers a left, a right, a left again. Doyle punches back, but missed him by a mile. Well, aren't you a picture? Who are you? I'm with her. Put 'em up. The guy was Sally's husband. She'd only hired Joe to get me away from Dempsey so she could exact her revenge. Now you're gonna suffer, Vera, like my mother suffered. Wait, Sal. Let me get the ice first. No! Lenny! Ugh! What are you doing? Give me the gun! Oh! Oh! Joe! We were hot as a pistol and--and we had two bodies on our hands, and we had to do something. And Joe... had the plan. No one would be looking for those two. We needed to disappear. Obviously, we didn't disappear far enough. So... are you going to arrest us? Why would I do that? Sounds like self-defense. Besides... we're looking for a woman named Vera, not Viola, and a PI named Joe, not a former bartender named Jerry. We don't know how to thank you. I do. Answer two questions. One... if you had the blue butterfly, why didn't you take it? And two... where has it been all this time? Well, we were home free till doll face here had herself an epiphany. This thing really is cursed. Vera, that's just fancy rocks on a pretty rope. No, it's more than that. It's misery. Joe, we can't. I got no love for this thing, just you. But I'll be damned if I let Dempsey get his hands back on it. Let the *** spend the rest of his life not knowing his prize possession is right under his nose. Cursed or not, did you ever consider going back for it? They don't get it, Joe. Mm. I... We got four children, seven grandchildren, two great-grandchildren... and each other. Mm-hmm. What do we need a blue butterfly for? Do you think we should've told Joe and Vera about the blue butterfly? Oh, no. Why ruin it for them? No, that's the stuff that dreams are made of. Tell me you love me, Joe. Always. Sync by YYeTs.net Corrections by Alex1969 www.addic7ed.com