There are two kinds of folks
who sit around thinking about how to kill people:
Psychopaths and mystery writers.
I'm the kind that pays better.
Who am I?
I'm Rick Castle.
Castle.
I really am ruggedly handsome, aren't I?
Every writer needs inspiration. And I found mine.
Detective Kate Beckett.
Beckett. Aah!
Beckett? Could you get some backup, please?
And thanks to my friendship with the Mayor,
I get to be on her case. Oh!
Do I look like a killer to you? Yes, you kill my patience.
And together, we catch killers.
I hate this case. I know. Isn't it great?
(Police radio chatter)
(Hooves pounding)
(Police radio chatter)
(Castle) I have delicately placed
one Graham cracker, exactly six marshmallows,
atop a perfectly melted chocolate bar.
In an omelet, darling, really?
Not an omelet.
A s'morelet. Uh-huh.
Care for one? No, thank you.
What about you, sweetheart?
Are you ready for your taste buds to be launched
into breakfast Nirvana? Sure, thanks.
Oh, is it okay if my friend Ashley comes over tonight?
Yes, of course. Now eat.
(Fork clatters)
(Mouth full) Dad.
(Normal voice) Are there marshmallows in this? Yes.
And chocolate? Yes.
That's the point. It's a s'morelet.
I... I gotta go. Love you.
Love you. Bye, honey.
(Mouth full) Mmm.
This is almost as good as my chocolate mousse chimichanga.
(Normal voice) Aha. I knew you'd reconsider.
It's kinda like David Hasselhoff.
At first you're repulsed, but then strangely,
you're drawn in. No, still repulsed. Bye.
(Door opens) Mm.
(Mouth full) Wonder what's up with Alexis? (Door closes)
She seems a little out of it. Isn't it obvious?
What? Oh, she's in love.
Alexis? Oh, come on, darling.
In case you haven't noticed, she's not a little girl anymore.
(Normal voice) Thank you, mother.
I think if Alexis were in love, she would've told me.
Ah, ah, ah, ah.
The fact that she hasn't told you is how we know it's real.
Mother.
Okay, and the fact that she... Mentioned it to me last night.
Who is he? W-where did she meet him?
I don't know. She wouldn't say.
No, diva's honor. She didn't tell me anything.
She didn't even tell me his name.
I can't believe she told you and not me.
I'm supposed to be her go-to guy.
Oh, darling, of course you are.
It's just, you know, it's first love.
It's magical, ethereal.
It defies logic.
(Cell phone rings)
Richard, your phone? (Ring)
Mm.
(Ring)
Oh, Beckett. Maybe it's a nice murder, darling.
Brighten your day. (Ring)
Good boy.
(Clicks open and beeps) Castle.
(Castle) When Alexis took her first steps,
I was there to catch her when she fell.
The first time she rode her bike without training wheels,
I was the maniac chasing her down the street
screaming for her to watch out
for the old lady with the Walker.
Even her first word-- let me guess. "Daddy"?
No, it was "denouement." Oh.
I stressed story structure from an early age.
Uh-huh.
Anyway, I'm afraid that this is the beginning of the end
of our special thing.
Well, you know, I wouldn't worry, Castle.
I mean, I've seen the way that she looks at you.
Your real problem is that girls who adore their daddies
usually end up marrying guys just like them.
They do? Dr. Parish.
Good morning. Got an I.D.?
Not yet. How come you guys never bring me coffee?
I'm here before you doing all the work.
You can have the rest of mine.
Actually, I don't drink coffee.
But would it kill you to bring me a bear claw?
Speaking of killing.
Single G.S.W. to the chest,
large caliber, probably a .45.
Lividity suggests time of death around midnight.
Hey.
I have those boxers. Thomas Nash.
Very pricey British brand.
Amazingly soft. They're silk.
(Police radio chatter, camera shutter clicks)
I'm just saying, he was probably very comfortable
when he was shot and killed.
So what was this guy doing out here
practically naked at midnight?
Don't bother with any of your perverted theories, Castle.
I found fibers in the bullet hole.
Which means he was wearing clothes when he was shot.
That doesn't make any sense. The killer shot him
and then hung around to take his bloody clothes off him?
Well, maybe the killer was worried that there was
forensic evidence on the clothes that would connect them.
Yo. Uni found this wallet out in a garbage can near fifth.
Photo on the license matches Captain underpants here.
Sorry. My nephew loves those books.
Daniel Goldstein, 25, lives in Soho.
Yeah, he's also got a work I.D. from Berman Rose
down on Wall Street.
So he lived downtown and he worked downtown.
What was he doing way up here? Let's take this down to the lab.
Right.
(Castle) So I wear boxers.
What do you wear-- thongs, cheekies?
I told you mine.
Bloomers?
Granny panties?
Commando?
His clothes were taken?
Why would anyone take his clothes?
We don't know, Ms. Goldstein. Can you tell us
what your brother might have been doing in the park?
That late? I have no idea.
Well, the place where Daniel was found
is known for drug activity. Was he using?
No. He barely even drank.
Did he have any enemies or conflicts that you know of?
No, no. Look, none of this makes any sense.
It's just-- it's not like him.
Our parents both died in a car accident
when he was 12,
and since then, he's always been so cautious.
What about dating? Was there anyone special in his life?
Oh, he wished, but no.
No, he barely had a social life or social skills.
I mean, he was such a sweetheart,
but a dork, you know?
And he was always at work anyway.
At Berman Rose? What did he do for them?
Created financial products.
He was this incredible math genius.
Got his PhD from M.I.T.
I thought for sure he'd be a Professor or something,
but these hedge funds, they hire guys like him,
and they pay them obscene amounts of money.
25 years old--he bought my apartment for me.
(Knock on door)
Excuse me.
What's up?
Lab got a fingerprint off our vic's wallet.
Anyone good?
Uh...
(Clears throat)
(Beckett) Awaiting court dates
on three aggravated assault cases
in the past month, Mr. D'André.
You inflicted dozens of broken bones,
gouged out one of your victim's eyes,
bit off part of an ear of another one.
Sounds like committing murder was inevitable.
I'm just curious. Why did you take his clothes?
Wasn't me.
Well, then why were your fingerprints
on a dead man's wallet? Did he just happen to drop it,
and you politely picked it up for him?
And why did my detectives find
this unregistered .45 in your apartment,
which just happens to match
the size of the bullet hole in my victim?
Hey. - If you're so innocent, Mr. D'André,
why did you resist arrest
and try to put one of my detectives through a wall?
(Beckett) Your silence only makes you look guiltier. You know, the right turtleneck,
give me a reason... And no one is even gonna notice, bro.
Maybe a scarf. (Grunts)
(Beckett) Why don't you just confess to the truth?
It's gonna come out sooner or later.
He was already dead.
With a wallet lying conveniently next to him?
(Exhales) (Castle) Uh, look,
if you're not going to admit to it,
you might at least want to try coming up with a story
that's a little more convincing.
It's what happened!
Like you weren't scared.
I want this guy to fry, Beckett.
Oh, he will,
as soon as Lanie confirms that that bullet is a .45.
It's not a .45. Are you sure?
I'm positive. .38?
Nope. It's not a .44 or a .357
or a .22 or a 9 millimeter
or any other kind of bullet I've ever seen.
(Castle) So it's a new kind of bullet.
Oh, no. Not new at all. Check it out.
Oh, it's round. You see that white coating?
Yeah. What is it, oxidation?
Lead oxide, to be exact. Rust?
Yep. Based on the amount of it,
I'd say that bullet is 200 years old.
(Castle) A 200-year-old bullet can only mean one thing.
Time-traveling killer.
? Castle 3x04 ? Punked Original Air Date on October 11, 2010
-- sync, corrected by elderman -- -- for www.addic7ed.com --
(Elevator Bell dings)
Ergo, the killer could've entered present time
through a time ripple, killed Goldstein,
and then gone back through the time ripple,
which means we just have to find the time ripple.
Could you please stop saying "time ripple"?
Yeah. It sounds kinda dirty, doesn't it?
What if the ripple closed?
Time machine. (Snaps fingers)
We need a time machine. Well, in this century,
we still haven't ruled out our big buddy Mr. D'André.
Yeah, he just doesn't seem like the time-travel type to me.
Can't be a time-traveling killer.
Bullet had 200 years of rust on it. If the killer had been
a time traveler, the bullet would've been brand-new.
Unless time travel causes rust.
On your brain. Have you followed up
with the victim's sister regarding the antique bullet?
Yep. She has no clue about antique bullets or guns,
but there's somebody who does.
Abe Sandrich--antique weapons expert you requested.
That reminds me, I'm starving.
(Siren wailing)
I like .45s.
Catch the right angle,
this sucker could take your head clean off.
But... (Sighs)
It's not the gun you're looking for.
Why is that?
Barrel would've had to be modified.
This one's factory fresh.
(Lowered voice) Well, do you think D'André the giant
was telling the truth
when he said he found the wallet in the grass?
(Lowered voice) Well, the killer did take Goldstein's clothes,
so it's possible that the wallet might have fallen out
when he left the crime scene.
(Normal voice) What kind of a pistol
would've fired that bullet?
We usually just call 'em lead balls
for, uh, obvious reasons.
I'd say a whole lot of 18th century flintlocks--
too many brands to even speculate.
You'll need to find the actual pistol
to match it this lead ball.
And how many people would own that kind of antique pistol?
It's hard to say. They're considered collectibles,
so they don't have to be registered.
Making it pretty smart to kill someone with one.
Oh, yeah.
The guns may be old,
but, uh, they got plenty of killing left in 'em.
So is, uh, D'André our guy?
I'm afraid not.
W-why did he go all Hulk Hogan on me?
Well, why did the scorpion sting the frog? It's his nature.
Yeah, well, D'André will be seeing nature
from behind bars from now on for assaulting an officer.
I'll see he gets the Max, Detective.
Thank you, Captain.
You can take a couple days if you like, catch some movies.
Read "Naked Heat."
No. No need, sir.
Still no luck with the clothes. Unis looked in every garbage can
within 5-block radius of the park.
What is so special about these clothes
that our killer would take them?
Maybe the killer came through the time ripple naked
and needed the clothes...
Like in "the Terminator."
Sadly, I don't have a better theory at this point.
So the question is,
what did a Wall Street number cruncher like Goldstein
get himself into?
Castle and I will go to his firm.
You guys see if you can track down any antique gun enthusiasts
on social media sites or local clubs.
Maybe someone from Goldstein's life will pop.
You got it.
(Grunts)
(Growls)
You know, I just don't get
how someone could shoot Goldstein, steal his clothes,
and then not hang on to his wallet.
It just doesn't make any sense.
No.
Maybe giant moths killed him and then ate his clothes.
Could be.
Hey, Castle.
If this case is boring for you, you don't have to stay.
No, I-I'm just checking my e-mails, my texts, see if Alexis called.
I can't believe she told my mother she's in love
and is holding out on me. Oh.
I'm gonna call her.
No, no. You have to let her tell you
in her own time, when she's ready.
I'm the cool dad. Why can't she be ready?
Listen to me.
My dad tried to do the same thing when I was her age,
and I ended up dating a grunge rocker who smelled like
wet flannel and clove cigarettes for seven months.
You do not mess with a teenage girl and her hormones.
You're right.
(Elevator Bell dings) I won't call her.
(Clicks button)
Did you say something about a giant moth?
Nope.
(Man) In his underwear?
Danny's been working for me for two years, but
I just don't know what he'd have been up to in the park.
He wasn't exactly the outdoors type.
What about antique guns, Mr. Murphy?
Do you know anything about them?
Antiques? No. No, he wasn't into guns at all.
Well, I understand that he worked long hours.
Do you know when he left last night?
Uh, yeah, right around 9:30.
Oh, hey. Let me help you with that.
Thanks. (Murphy) This is Julia Foster, Danny's assistant.
This is Detective Beckett and Richard Castle.
Hi. Hi.
Were you here last night when Goldstein left?
Of course. Any idea where he was heading?
No, he just said good night. And what about during the day,
was there anything out of the ordinary,
any strange phone calls?
No, just the usual unhappy investor. Although...
Although what?
The Lower Tide Fund.
(Castle) What's that?
It was one of the financial products Daniel created for us.
A synthetic C.D.O. cubed.
English? A really big bet
that prices would return to historical norms.
(Beckett) So what happened? It tanked.
Hundreds of millions of dollars were lost overnight.
When was this? Three months ago.
There must have been a lot of angry investors.
We fielded scores of less-than-complimentary messages from clients.
More like apoplectic, and a lot of them blamed Danny.
All right, well, I'll need a copy of all of these messages
and a list of anyone who lost their money in the fund.
(Beeping)
Any luck connecting antique gun owners
to investors in Goldstein's failed fund, detectives?
Nah. So far I've seen a lot of cool, old guns
on these social media sites for antique gun lovers,
but none of the owners pop in Goldstein's life.
Irwin "Quick Draw" Finkelstein,
proud owner of a remington outlaw
made in 1875.
Now that's a great-looking gun. Mm-hmm.
Check it out, Esposito.
(Groans)
Yeah, that's nice.
See, back then, they were into the artistry of it all.
Yeah, they're like little sculptures that can kill.
Well, this list of Lower Tide Fund investors,
they all lost more than a million bucks apiece.
(Montgomery) $1 million? Mm-hmm.
If I had that kind of scratch, I'd put it in something safe,
like my mattress. (Chuckles) Check it out.
Ivan "Yosemite Sam" Podofski.
Wait a minute. Ivan Podofski?
Yeah, what do you got? (Groans)
(Beeping)
Boom.
(Montgomery) Looks like we have a winner.
You're right. He does kinda look like Yosemite Sam.
On a bad hair day.
Yeah, well, in addition
to having an antique gun collection,
Mr. Podofski here lost more than 4 million bucks
in our vic's Lower Tide Fund.
He also left this message for Goldstein
the day the fund flatlined.
They had a way of handling folks like you
in the old country, Goldstein.
It's called a firing squad.
Do you think he offered him a blindfold and a cigarette?
They had a way of handling folks like you
in the old country, Goldstein.
It's called a firing squad.
I think some context is in order.
I had only just lost $4 million.
Yes, and in that context,
you threatened to kill Mr. Goldstein,
and then he was killed.
Where were you last night between 11:00 and 1:00?
Asleep in my bed.
And can anyone vouch for that?
Me. Myself and I got your back, too?
Okay, look, I know how this appears.
But I think there's, uh, an explanation.
Fire away.
Several months ago, I had a consultation at Berman Rose.
When I mentioned my guns, Goldstein asked if I knew
how he could get ahold of a Sherlock Holmes gun.
So you're pointing the finger at Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?
I'm saying that Goldstein clearly had an interest
in antique guns.
Maybe that interest got him killed.
If you're so confident
that Goldstein got mixed up with someone else,
I'm sure you won't mind submitting your collection
for testing with ballistics.
These are antiques, Detective.
Would you prefer being arrested for murder?
(Snaps)
(Ryan) Ballistics has taken possession of Podofski's guns.
They should have preliminary results by tomorrow.
They never prefer to be arrested for murder.
Hmm. All right. Keep at it. Yeah.
Yo. Just got a hit from Goldstein's car
from traffic enforcement.
Parking ticket from last night.
No way. What?
This has gotta be a joke. What are you talking about, Castle?
Goldstein drives a DeLorean.
The car used as a time machine in "Back to the Future"?
There's no way that's a coincidence.
The ticket was written at 2:00 in the morning.
That's postmortem. Car should still be there.
Yeah, East 82nd between Lex and Third.
That's a few blocks from the park.
Yeah, but if you're gonna park illegally,
why not park closer? Hmm.
Because he was going somewhere on that block.
Three more parking tickets in the last several months,
all on 82nd between Lex and third.
So he was going somewhere regularly on that block.
Maybe a girlfriend.
Unless you think that's where that time ripple is.
Could be.
Look into it. Pick that car up.
(Esposito) Gotcha.
You gotta be kidding me. (Laughs)
Well, it's definitely Goldstein's car...
Or a... time machine.
Yep. If I'm not mistaken, that's a flux capacitor in there.
And that is the reactor core.
Maybe Castle was right.
Goldstein came back to the future,
and he got whacked, huh? (Sighs)
Why'd he keep coming here? I don't know.
Maybe there's something in the car that'll help.
Hope so. Lot of doors to knock on.
Wow. (Inhales sharply) Mm.
Yo, Patty. I got a vic's car that needs towing.
It's at 238 East 82nd.
It's an '81 to '82 DeLorean.
New York plates J-L-D--
Hey, Javi.
(Clatters)
Let me call you back.
(Ryan) Excuse us, sir.
I'm Detective Ryan. This is Detective Esposito.
Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?
(British accent) Ah! Top of the morning to you, constables.
Lord Henry at your service.
Uh, thanks. You mind telling us where you got those clothes?
Oh, not at all, dear boy. I picked them up
at the haberdashery across the park.
Well, gentlemen, if that is all,
I shall bid you good day.
Just a second, pal.
You know, we think those clothes might have been involved--
I said "good day."
Sir, we need you to come down-- good day!
Whoa! Whoa!
Ya! Ya! Hey!
(Shouting indistinctly)
(Grunts) Ah!
You all right, bro?
You're coming with me. I'm fine.
(Handcuffs click) Unhand me, you rogue!
(Beckett) All right. Thank you, Ryan.
How's Esposito?
At home resting. (Beeps)
So our Lord Henry's story checks out.
Ryan found a matching ascot in a garbage can
where Henry said that he found the clothes.
Our guy might be unstable, but he is not our killer.
So why was Goldstein wearing this costume?
Well, it's victorian, antique...
Kind of fits with the whole time traveler theory,
don't you think?
I don't know what to think, but the plot thickens.
Forensics came back on the clothes?
Between the garbage can and our homeless guy,
there was quite a list of gross-out substances,
of which I will spare you the details, but I did find
something interesting on the right hand glove
and the right sleeve of the shirt--
potassium, nitrate and sulfur.
Gunshot residue?
So Goldstein did not go quietly into the night,
he had a gun. And he fired back.
(Beeping)
(Beeping rapidly)
I got something here.
(Beeping fades)
Beckett.
Another antique.
Looks exactly like the one that killed Goldstein.
Yes it does.
Let's say that our killer...
Let's say that our killer is standing...
Over here.
(Clears throat)
Goldstein was killed all the way over there.
A nice flat area between them.
What are you getting at, Castle, some kind of game? Not a game.
Goldstein was wearing formal turn-of-the-century clothes.
He shot an antique bullet
identical to the one he was killed with,
probably fired from an identical gun.
(Whispers) Four, five, six, seven.
(Normal voice) Lanie said he was killed at about midnight?
St. James church is right over there--
thanks--on Madison.
I bet they could hear the bells chiming
all the way from over here.
(Whispers) 39, 40...
Ish. Ha.
They stood at about 40 paces from one another.
It wasn't a game.
It was an old-fashioned duel.
(Lock clicks)
Who dares besmirch...
Oh, God, don't shoot! My honor?
It's okay, Ashley. He's not gonna shoot you.
What the heck, dad?!
I might be asking you the same...
Ashley? This is Ashley?
Ash, this is my dad, Rick.
And I have no idea why he's waving a gun.
So nice to meet you, Mr. Castle.
You, too, Ashley,
and I have a perfectly good reason why I'm waving a gun.
Excuse us.
(Whispers) Explain yourself.
I got this gun for research for a case,
which you might know if you had checked in with me today.
What's that supposed to mean?
Let's just say, one of us has nothing to hide.
Perhaps you'd like to explain yourself?
What, that I was kissing a boy?
Is that a problem? You tell me.
Dad, the only reason I invited Ashley over tonight
was so you could meet him.
Yes, well, me meeting Ashley
has smeared the lip gloss all over your face.
Uh, I-I-I really should be going.
(Normal voice) You can stay, Ashley.
Oh, the gun.
My bad.
Please, Ashley, stay.
You can check out the gun. No, thanks.
Call me later? Yeah, if it's okay with your gun...
Dad.
Yeah, it's okay with me.
Thank you.
And I-I-I just want you to know how much I respect Alexis.
I mean, you don't have to worry about issues of respect.
She's probably the most respectable person I know,
and I-I respect you, too.
That's good to know that.
Thank you.
(Exhales)
I like him.
He's respectful.
Got it. Thanks.
Hey.
Hey. So Ivan Podofski's antique gun collection all cleared ballistics.
Well, at least some guy in ballistics
had fun firing 'em off. Hmm.
I also checked with Goldstein's sister and coworkers.
None of them know anything about duels or victorian clothes
or what Goldstein was doing on East 82nd.
Sounds like he had a secret life.
That somehow led to a duel.
Maybe he figured someone besmirched his honor.
Maybe it was about a girl. Matter of fact, Alexis,
her new boyfriend--who has a girl's name, by the way--
he thought I was gonna shoot him last night.
Hey. Hey. How's Esposito?
He's sleeping in, mostly because he can't move.
Did you figure out what Goldstein was doing on East 82nd?
No, but get this. I'm going through Goldstein's car,
and I find a pile of receipts he must have been planning
to submit for reimbursement,
one of 'em from three weeks ago at a café.
On it, he wrote "coffee with Troy Kenworth,"
and that name kinda rings a bell.
One of the angry Lower Tide Fund investors?
No, but his father Charles Kenworth was.
Guy loses 2 million bucks,
and then he loses his house, his marriage,
and then two months ago, he killed himself.
Did Troy have any priors?
Yeah, more like afters.
After his father committed suicide,
he was charged with assault in four separate bar fights.
Revenge... oldest motive for murder in the book.
Maybe Troy thought someone besmirched his father's honor.
And then he forced Goldstein to settle the score.
Yeah, I was the one who found his body.
(Beckett) The report says that he used a shotgun.
Hey.
Why aren't you in there?
Beckett's doing a mothering thing.
Wanted to limit the testosterone on the room.
I can't imagine walking in on that.
Yeah.
Pretty messy. I try not to think about it.
I understand.
But since then, Mr. Kenworth,
you have charges pending in four assault cases.
I started drinking too much, lashed out.
But those were just random people at bars.
I mean, they weren't even responsible
for your father's suicide.
But Goldstein...
He put your father in the fund
that lost him all of his money.
I could understand blaming him.
I did, but then I talked to him, and he said
that he warned pop to diversify.
And the fact is, dad and mom
have been having problems for years.
When we lost the house, and I had to drop out of school,
it was the last straw, and mom left him.
That's what pushed him over the edge,
and ever since his death, mom's been struggling
to make payments on our apartment.
Is that why you went to go see Goldstein three weeks ago?
I wanted to find out if any money was left in the account.
And what did Goldstein tell you?
The truth. All the money's gone.
Well, that must have made you pretty angry.
Okay, I know what you're getting at,
but that meeting is what turned me around.
I haven't had a drink since,
mom and I have been able to stay in our place.
I might even go back to school next semester.
All because Danny's a stand-up guy, and he gave me a job.
That's where I was the night he got killed.
At Berman Rose?
Uh, no.
What kind of a job did Danny give you?
I can't say.
Look, I had to sign a confidentiality agreement.
Okay? I could be fired. Or you could be arrested.
Is this job on 82nd between Lex and Third?
What was the exact number of pounds that Mr. Fogg bet
that he could travel around the world in 80 days?
20,000. Correct, sir.
Name the volcano that led to the center of the Earth.
Oh, I want to say--
NYPD. Open the damn door.
(Alec Ounsworth's "Me and You, Watson" playing)
? The sound of the foghorn, it tears me from my sleep ?
? I'm much too tired for the waking ?
? but too wired for the sheep ?
? and the anvil's on the table ?
? the sword is on the door, it's time to pick up... ?
Hello!
Where are we? (Man) Victorian London.
When are we? 1892.
What is this place?
The Gaslamp League, a private steampunk society.
Straight ahead
you'll find our club president, Owen Peterson.
He's on the penny-farthing.
All right then.
? And empty the contents of your purse ?
? me and you, Watson, me and you... ?
Oh, it's the time machine from "Time and Away."
I love that movie. (Man) Owen!
Give us a poem!
Steampunk.
(Castle) It's a subculture that embraces
the simplicity and romance of the past
at the same time, couples it with the hope and promise
and sheer super-coolness of futuristic design.
You're cloned, you say? There are more of you?
Well, the more the merrier!
To ewes all, I'll be true.
(All imitate sheep bleating)
(Applause)
Excuse me, Mr. Peterson. I'm Detective--
Can I try that?
(Laughs) Ah.
I don't know what to tell you, Detective.
We all heard about Danny yesterday. Hard to believe.
We saw him here the night before.
Well, the way you and your friends were yukking it up
makes me feel like you weren't so upset.
We're just romantics, Detective.
Look at the world, don't like what we see,
so we recreate it here--
an oasis where human potential and ingenuity is limitless,
where there's poetry and wonder and meaning, even in death.
What time did he leave that night?
Around 11:30.
Did he tell you what he was doing?
No.
He went to the park for a duel.
What do you mean, a duel?
The kind where people shoot at each other.
They were using antique guns.
Do you know anything about that?
(Indistinct conversations)
Dueling pistols.
With, uh, lead balls
with white coating?
(Sniffs)
This has been fired recently.
But they're just for show.
Adam, stop! Stop!
Oh, my God! Oh! (Man) Oh, goodness!
(Grunts) (People speaking indistinctly)
Out of the way! Get out of the way!
I think he's going for the time machine!
It's just a bunch of interviews.
I don't know why you didn't take the whole day off.
Because I'm fine.
(Beckett) Murphy!
Stop him!
Oh! Oh! Ow! Aah!
(Esposito groans)
Hey, Esposito.
How's your neck?
(Groans)
Yeah, I shot him.
He just kinda crumpled over backwards,
but I thought he was kidding.
I jogged over expecting him to jump up any second,
but he was just-- just lying there so still,
a-and then I saw the blood, and I hear Julia.
She's on her knees screaming, "no. Please, God, no."
I-I-I freaked out.
We took his clothes, and--and I just ran.
Julia? You mean Goldstein's assistant?
He was in love with her.
Had they been seeing each other a long time?
No, no, Dan just kissed her once,
a couple weeks ago out at a bar,
but she--she wasn't interested in him.
So you were involved with her?
Not really involved,
but Dan caught us fooling around in my office
late one night last week.
And you couldn't think of a better way of settling this
other than a duel?
We--we--we just thought it would be funny.
Danny swore that we couldn't get hurt.
Shooting at each other?
He--he ran all these complex equations.
He said--said that at 40 paces, there was no chance
that we could actually hit each other, something about
18th century guns having no rifling in the barrel.
So if you couldn't kill each other,
what was the point of the duel?
(Voice breaks) To impress Julia.
(Normal voice) She would never get serious with geeks like us.
But we figured that maybe if-- if she saw us duel over her,
then... (Crying) Maybe that one--that one of--
one of us c--
(sniffles)
(Crying)
Julia confirmed that she was
the only other person present at the duel.
No one else knew.
All right. Let her go.
(Continues crying)
(Beckett) How do you point the gun at someone
and shoot and not expect to kill them?
Well, they were blinded by the romance of it all,
and Goldstein did the math.
Well, between this and the Lower Tide Fund,
maybe he wasn't such a genius.
Or maybe he's just unlucky.
Well, then I've got a problem,
because I have to make a recommendation to the D.A.
Between murder and manslaughter,
the difference being life in prison
or just a couple of years.
I mean, are antique guns really so inaccurate?
Only one way to find out.
(Nitzer Ebb's "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" playing)
? Kiss kiss ?
? bang bang kiss kiss ?
that's your target. That's my target.
Yeah, well, I--
shoot your target.
? Bang bang ?
? kiss kiss ?
? bang bang ?
? kiss kiss bang bang ?
? kiss kiss ?
? bang bang ?
? kiss kiss bang bang ?
(gunfire)
? There's always something behind ?
? you think I'm deaf, dumb and blind ?
? a loving word ?
? and then you go bang bang ?
? kiss kiss, kiss kiss bang bang ?
(gunfire)
?
Manslaughter it is.
Yeah.
?
(creaking and clicking)
Hey, dad.
Hey, there's my girl.
Come here.
(Laughs) Hey.
(Clicking) Mm. Oh, um...
Sorry. Hang on.
(Knob squeaks, valve hisses) Okay. There we go.
(Laughs)
Hey, about, uh, last night,
um, I was... It was unexpected.
Yeah. I'm--I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, too. I should've told you Ashley was a boy.
No, why, uh, why spoil the surprise?
So I have a question for you,
but it's a little embarrassing.
Ooh. I love when you embarrass yourself.
Dad.
Well, hey, listen, you can, uh...
You can ask me whatever you want,
and... I promise, I'll do my best
to make it as unembarrassing as possible.
How do you know when you're in love?
I know it's an emotion...
Well-- a feeling, and you can't exactly define,
like, technically, how you know when you're feeling it,
but since I've never felt it before,
how do I know what I'm feeling is even it at all?
(Mutters) Except, of course, for the fact
that I'm feeling all these things I've never felt before,
like in my stomach and my throat and even kind of in my ears.
I mean, which just has to mean that it's love, right?
Considering I only feel them when I'm with Ashley
or thinking about him,
I mean, that's gotta be love, right?
If-- 'cause I'm feeling all these things I've read about in poems
and heard about in songs but never completely understood,
but now I do. I understand. And I'm listening
to all this music and reading all this poetry
in a completely new and glorious light,
which I think just has to mean that it's love.
What do you think? I--
I can't stop thinking about him, daddy. I don't even want to,
'cause he's the greatest, sweetest, most adorable guy,
and his nose crinkles when he laughs, and I'm just so happy.
Thanks, dad. I love you.
I feel so much better now.
(Laughs)
I'm glad we had that talk.
(Doorbell buzzes)
Beckett.
How do you know when you're in love?
All the songs make sense.
Adam Murphy didn't kill Goldstein.
But he confessed.
And I believe that he believes he did it, but he didn't.
Do tell. It bothered me
that we couldn't hit the target at the shooting range,
and so I ran ballistics on the dueling pistols.
The bullet that hit Daniel Goldstein
didn't match either one of them.
Adam couldn't have killed him.
You're talking full-on, grassy knoll conspiracy theory.
Not theory, fact.
There was a third shooter, and that's our killer.
(Clinks)
Hey, Beckett!
Did you find Adam Murphy's bullet?
Lead ball.
Yep. He didn't kill Goldstein.
But he did kill squirrelstein.
(Blows air)
What are the odds, huh?
Oh, no. They took his clothes, too.
Could you? Aww.
Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.
(Police radio chatter)
Okay, so we know that Goldstein was standing right over here...
(Castle) Facing Adam, who was right over there.
Right, and if our killer wanted to shoot him
without either of them seeing him,
he would be standing right over...
There, by that clump of trees.
(Police radio chatter continues)
(Woman) Detective, I've got clothing fibers.
(Castle) Right where a shooter would brace himself.
This thread look familiar?
Oh, I'd recognize that burgundy velvet anywhere.
Kinda says "steampunk," doesn't it?
Matter of fact,
I think I know the murder weapon.
(Speaks indistinctly) Volcano in "Journey to the Center of the Earth"--
Snaefells?
Castle.
(Mouths word)
Couldn't stay away, huh? Can I get you guys something?
(Beckett) Sure, Troy.
We're looking for a shooter.
Actually, I think we already found one.
Nice uniform, by the way.
We found your father's shotgun.
We know that you modified it
in order to shoot antique lead ball bullets.
What are you talking about?
Adam Murphy already confessed right?
Turns out Adam Murphy couldn't have done it.
It's a sciencey ballistics thing.
It was pretty clever, firing your father's shotgun
at the exact moment that Adam and Goldstein fired their guns.
(Castle) Making Adam believe
that he was the one that killed Goldstein,
right as the church bells chimed midnight.
Isn't that right?
?
Seeing him in here every night
in that ridiculous outfit...
Just throwing around all that money?
Why should he get to live like that
when my dad's dead?
Knowing that our shooter was a staff member at the club
lead us straight back to Troy.
He overheard Goldstein and Murphy planning the duel,
and took his opportunity. And then Troy's alibi fell apart
as soon as we started interviewing other staff members
who couldn't remember seeing him there
half an hour before or after the duel.
Dueling over a girl, avenging the death of a loved one...
Cuts to the heart of romance.
And the tragedy.
Speaking of tragedy, did you hear about Detective Esposito?
No. What about him?
Oh. He...
(Metal squeaking)
Oh...
(Castle) God, no.
Dude... what happened?
No, no, I don't want to hear it. Esposito...
Dude, are you okay? No, I'm okay. Whoa!
(Ryan) Oh! (Laughs) Hey! (Laughs)
(Laughs) No, I r-- I really am fine, bro.
We got this stuff from storage. Oh, you shoulda seen your faces.
Captain, you really sold that.
"Speaking of tragedy, did you hear about Detective Esposito?"
Hey. Sir.
(Laughs) That was good. Ow! I'm not really that fine.
Oh, oh, yeah, let me just-- sorry. Neck brace, please. Neck brace.
Lock it down. Lock it down. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Kate.
Josh, what are you doing here?
Oh, I got your text.
You mean the text where I said I was gonna pick you up?
(Chuckles) Yeah, I was nearby.
Well, uh, Josh, this is Captain Montgomery,
Richard Castle, Detectives Esposito and Ryan.
Hey, boys. (Montgomery and Esposito) Boys?
Catch any bad guys today? Every day.
(Chuckles) You all set? Yeah, let me just get my stuff.
Okay.
So...
You and Beckett?
Mm-hmm. What about us?
You tell me.
You're the writer.
Yeah.
Yeah, and...
And you are?
Oh, Kate hasn't told you about me, has she?
What's to tell?
(Beckett) Hey.
You ready to go?
Yeah. Hey, I'll see you around.
Bye, guys.
Later.
Just you?
(Laughs) Yes.
Thanks for that talk last night.
I feel so much better.
Hey, you can, uh...
You can always talk to me...
Or at me.
Yeah.
Being in love is exhausting.
(Sighs)
Yeah, you got that right.
(Sighs)
You okay, dad?
You seem distracted.
What are you talking about? You have my undivided attention.
Good, because I want to go on a date tonight.
How's that sound?
Of course. Great. Have a good time.
I meant with you, dad.
You'll always be my go-to guy.
Did gram put you up to this?
I have no idea what you're talking about.
Pity date.
I'll take it. (Laughs)
You're a terrible liar.
(Laughs)
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