Don't go in there.
No!
I gotta go.
Me, too.
Mm.
I'll see you at the scene, sexy.
Okay.
Javier Esposito. Mm-hmm.
When we get to this crime scene, do not wink at me,
do not smile at me,
and don't even look at me with those puppy dog eyes. Got it?
Got it.
Ooh.
Come on, Gina.
I'm not having this conversation with you again.
Well, I'm... I gotta go. I'm at work.
It is so work.
What's up, Castle? How's it going?
You want my advice? Never sleep with someone you work with.
What? What do you mean?
Trust me. It doesn't end well.
Who knows?
Everyone knows.
Everyone knows what?
Nothing.
On my way.
You okay, Castle? You seem upset.
No, no, I'm fine. Why?
Okay.
The murder is here at Drake's Magic Shop?
Yep.
I've been coming here since I was 13 years old.
This place is a paradise for boys...
Whoopee cushions, magic tricks, fake vomit.
It's not just for boys, Castle.
My grandfather was an amateur magician,
and I used to come here almost every Sunday afternoon
when I was that age, too.
I never pegged you for a magic fan.
You know any good tricks?
I do this one thing
with ice cubes.
According to his water-soaked wallet,
the victim's Zalman Drake, the shop owner.
His assistant, Eliza Winter, found him in the tank
when she opened up the store this morning.
Any signs of forced entry?
No. You know, it is beyond me
why people think this is entertaining.
I see a guy hanging upside down in a water tank,
I think, you are a fool.
Hmm. See the milk cans and the water torture tank,
they were real game changers in the magic world.
They were the first presentation
of real life-and-death consequences.
As the magician held his breath, so did the audience.
Well, this magician would've had to hold his breath
eight to ten hours if he wanted to take a bow.
So you're saying between 12:00 and 2:00 A.M.? Looks that way,
petechial hemorrhaging in his eyes indicate drowning.
Failed escape attempt? Well, there's no redness around his ankles
where he was hanging.
Doesn't look like he struggled to get out.
I have a feeling he was dead before he hit the water,
but I won't know for sure until I get him back to the lab.
Maybe there's another reason he didn't struggle.
Suicide note.
It says he was in financial trouble
and couldn't bear the thought of losing his family's shop,
so he was gonna kill himself. Mr. Drake did not kill himself.
How do you know? I just know.
- Is it true, though? Was he gonna lose his shop? - No.
I mean, yes, but two weeks ago, he told me
that everything was fine,
that he had worked it all out. Any idea how?
Was there a windfall or an investor?
He didn't say.
Would he have been able
to place himself in that tank? Absolutely.
But he wouldn't have. Not Zalman.
He loved and respected magic too much.
Esposito, there's no signature here.
I'll have C.S.U. run it for prints. Have them run the tank
and the entries and exits as well. Okay.
When was the last time you saw him?
Yesterday morning. He left right after lunch,
and he was gone the rest of the day.
Did he say where he was going? Was it normal for him
to leave the shop in the middle of the day?
Yeah. He would do that sometimes.
Did you notice any changes in his behavior
or anything unusual going on in his life?
This past month, he was gone m-more often.
All he'd say was that he was working on something.
But he looked a little tired, like he hadn't been sleeping.
Can you think of any reason for the change?
Yes. Last month, right before all this started,
a guy came into the shop and attacked Mr. Drake.
He pushed him right through a display case.
He said he better watch his back,
and he was gonna sue him for all he was worth.
Thank you. I will hold.
So court records show that
a lawsuit was filed against Zalman Drake a month ago.
They're pulling it up now. Hey.
Hey. We canvassed the area around the magic shop.
One of the neighbors said she saw an old white van
pull up to the shop around midnight
and then heard the gate roll up. Okay, you guys look into that,
and let's find out where Zalman was disappearing to.
I'd like to know what he was doing
all the way up until the moment that he died.
What about his next of kin?
Only surviving relative's a brother in Poughkeepsie.
We haven't reached him yet. All right, thank you, guys.
Poughkeepsie? Hey.
X-ray specs. Got 'em at the magic shop.
I can see you naked.
Really? Mm.
How do you like my navel ring?
Looks like somebody has a secret.
A secret? Uh, what secret?
I can understand a guy not wanting to share.
I mean, some things are personal.
How did you find out?
Dude, everybody knows.
It's all over "page six."
"Looks like an unhappy ending
for the publisher and the mystery writer."
Apparently,
he and ex-wife/girlfriend/ publisher Gina
had some words... loud words... at Le Cirque,
and she stormed off.
That's what he was talking about this morning.
What I don't understand is why he would try
to hide it from us. I mean, we're like family.
Maybe he's afraid of what we might think.
So it turns out a lawsuit was filed against Zalman Drake
by a Jerome Aspenall.
And get this...
The judge threw it out yesterday.
Maybe Jerome decided to take justice into his own hands.
What was he suing him for?
Zalman Drake? I was suing him for slander,
defamation of character, ruining my life.
And how did Zalman do that, Jerome? He read my friggin' mind,
in front of, like, 300 people. During a magic performance?
Yeah. It was like this mind reading,
card tricks, levitation, at this chichi charity ball.
My in-laws won a table,
and I figured, free food, some entertainment,
maybe later, I get lucky. Turns out not so lucky.
Could you elaborate on that? Yeah,
this magician, Zalman Drake, gets onstage,
makes this rich dude disappear and reappear,
and I'm like, "Oh, that's cool."
Then he asks for volunteers. My wife raises my hand
and says "Go up there, it'll be fun," so I do. Drake says,
"Stand across from me and think good thoughts," so I do.
He looks at me, concentrates,
puts his fingers on my forehead, and he goes, "You're thinking
of Rita and your trip to Atlantic city last weekend." Were you?
Yeah, but I was trying not to,
'cause here's the kicker... Your wife's name isn't Rita.
Right. Mm.
So now I'm living in a motel in Long Island City,
my father-in-law fired me, and Rita won't even talk to me
'cause my wife found her number and called her.
Where were you last night between 12:00 and 2:00?
Why is she asking me that?
Well, she wants to know if you have an alibi. For what?
Zalman Drake was murdered last night.
Justice is served.
When he read your mind, did it take him very long?
No, he... No. No. Didn't think so.
Jerome, we have a witness who says you went to his shop,
attacked, and threatened Zalman Drake.
When they dropped your lawsuit yesterday,
did you decide to take the law into your own hands?
Did you go to the magic shop and murder Zalman?
No, I didn't go anywhere last night
except for O'Lannahan's at 57th and Seventh,
because thanks to Zalman Drake, I no longer have a wife
or a mistress to go home to.
Wonder how Zalman did it.
He must have lifted something from Jerome's pocket
with a receipt from his weekend of sin.
Like this.
You had your hand in my pocket, and I didn't even feel it?
Do it again.
What?
Hey, Ryan.
Any luck narrowing down Zalman's whereabouts yesterday?
Uh, not yet,
but I did check into Jerome's whereabouts last night.
The barkeep at O'Lannahan's said he was there till closing.
He called him a cab. So the only
thing he killed last night were his brain cells.
And a forensic sweep of the water tank came up negative
for any prints on the operating apparatus other than Zalman's.
So either he committed suicide... Or the killer wore gloves.
Not the whole time. According to the lab,
there were fingerprints all over that suicide note,
and they weren't Zalman's or Jerome's.
Did you get a match? Yeah, to a Charles "Chuck" Russell.
A low-life street magician
with three arrests and two convictions...
one for arson and another on
an explosives charge. Did he know our victim?
Yeah, apparently Zalman is some big muckety-muck
with the American Magicians Guild.
They have a code of professional conduct, and Chuck broke it.
He was reckless with pyrotechnics in his act,
injured his assistant, so Zalman had him kicked out.
He hasn't been able to book a gig since. Where can we find him?
So I have Brenda's watch here.
She wants me to make her husband disappear.
That's a felony. I can't do that.
But I can make the watch disappear.
Give it up. That was incredible, really.
Thank you, Brenda.
Aw. $1.
I'll dine on raman and tap water tonight and think of you.
What about you? You got a little something
for the United Magicians College fund?
As a matter of fact, I do.
We need to talk to you about Zalman Drake.
Abracadabra.
Alakazam, jackass.
Why am I here?
You recognize this? That's a baggie and that's a letter.
Next.
Careful, Chucky. Next could be a murder charge.
Your fingerprints are on it. So?
So I find it strange that someone else's fingerprints
are on another guy's suicide note.
What are you talking about? Your old friend Zalman Drake.
Zalman?
Yeah, that's him.
He killed himself?
Man. We found him drowned
in the water torture trick in his shop.
You must have thought you were pretty clever,
staging it to look like a botched escape.
I didn't stage anything. I had nothing to do with it.
Well, then maybe you can explain your prints on that.
All right.
No, wait. Okay, listen, I-I-I gave him this note.
You gave him a suicide note?
Not that note.
The other note on the paper. The one you can't see.
Hold it under a black light.
It's an invoice for services rendered.
What kind of services?
He wanted me to get him something,
something illegal.
C4 explosives?
Ironic, right?
He wants explosives from me
when that's what he got me booted for.
But he promised to get me reinstated in the Guild,
and I wanted to work. Whoever wrote this note
probably thought they took a blank piece of paper.
Whoever being not me.
You provided him with enough C4 to blow up half a city block.
What was it for? Maybe it was for a magic trick.
Come on.
Nah, listen, Zalman didn't just run the shop
and do corporate gigs.
He was also this genius trick designer.
Rumor has it, he was creating
cutting-edge illusions for the hottest guy out there.
And who is the hottest guy out there?
Tobias Strange? He's the Johnny Depp of magic.
I saw him in Vegas. He made a Ferrari disappear.
Why would anybody want to do that? Yeah,
he's in town. I saw him perform a couple of weeks ago.
Awesome, awesome show.
Yeah, we loved it.
We?
Yeah.
Me and my buddy.
Ray. You have a buddy named Ray
who you went with to a magic show?
Yeah. What about it? Okay, guys,
hold Chuck on an explosives trafficking charge,
and let's see if this "Johnny Depp of magic" knows what his
trick designer was really into and why it required so much C4.
Voilă .
Pull it tight.
All the way.
Make sure it's locked.
Okay, guys, 30 seconds,
starting now.
Excuse me.
Oh, my God!
Oh! Get it open!
Where is he? Hey, this is a private rehearsal.
Who the hell let them in here?!
All-access pass.
Zalman has been the heart
of the New York magic community
since he inherited the shop from his dad.
It's a huge loss. I understand that he worked for you.
He used to. We parted ways last month.
Why? I heard from one of my vendors
that he might be working for someone else,
so I confronted him. Turns out, he was poached.
Do you know by whom? He didn't say.
Look, Zalman had been
my exclusive designer and engineer for 15 years.
He created some of my most famous tricks.
If he had any stage presence,
he would've been a world-class magician himself.
Well, it must have been very upsetting
to have him leave after all those years.
Didn't that put some of your trade secrets at risk?
A thinly veiled accusation, Mr. Castle.
Of course I was upset.
But I never doubted his discretion.
Mr. Strange, did any of your illusions
require the use of an explosive? The term "smoke and mirrors"
isn't metaphoric in our business, detective.
Much of misdirection depends on flashes of light.
What about C4?
The key to making something look dangerous
is to have complete control over the outcome.
C4 is too volatile, unpredictable. It kills.
Any idea what Zalman would be using it for?
Nothing magical, I assure you.
Have you checked his workshop?
Uh, we haven't come across a workshop.
It's probably where he'd been disappearing to every day.
Do you know where it is? Ah,
you know how magicians are about secrets.
But whatever he was working on,
you would probably find there.
It's an age-old story...
magician at the top of his game, angry that his trick designer
has jumped ship for the competition,
kills him instead of
letting his trade secrets fall into enemy hands.
It's magic, Castle, not the Cold War.
Well, if it's not the Cold War,
why does Zalman need
military-grade explosives? I don't know. Hell.
We don't even know if it really was murder.
For all we know, it could've actually been a suicide.
It's Lanie. Let me guess. It wasn't a suicide.
Beckett.
It took you two long enough. Where were you, Europe?
Traffic. Girl, you coulda used the gum ball.
Dressed to the nines, in a big hurry.
So... where are you going and who's the lucky victim?
I'll tell you what, Castle,
you tell me what's going on between you and Gina,
and I'll tell you where I'm going tonight.
What are you talking about?
He and his girlfriend had a big fight at Le Cirque.
It was in the paper. Can we talk about the victim, please?
Okay.
No water in the lungs.
He wasn't drowned?
Nope, but he was asphyxiated,
which sometimes presents the same way.
Bruising. Like someone held their hand over his nose and mouth.
He was murdered before he was put into the tank.
And then his killer took what he thought
was a blank piece of paper and typed out the suicide note.
But why kill him that way?
I mean, why make it look like a suicide? Cover up the murder.
The murder, or something bigger
involving explosives?
We gotta find that workshop.
You are the picture of a civilized evening at home.
And you are a caveman.
Darling, we are your family.
Why didn't you tell us about this?
Have you spoken to her, you know, since your P.D.A.?
My... public display of anger.
It says you were fighting, dad. What about?
Well, if you must know... yes.
We were fighting about how much we've been fighting.
If you don't mind, I'd really like
to change the subject.
What am I, 6?
At least pull out a $20. Wow.
Hey, I was thinking... Come on, Castle. Keep up.
Where are we going? Zalman's workshop.
You found it? How?
In his soggy wallet was a soggy metrocard.
Ryan ran it through the automated fare database.
He was traveling from a subway stop near his magic shop
to the last stop out in the Bronx.
So we're canvassing the neighborhood.
Do we need vests? No, no vests.
Remember that power outage a couple of weeks ago,
shut down the subway? Yes.
Well, I looked into Zalman's financials.
He hired a town car that day with his credit card,
and we now have his address.
You sure this is the place?
This is where they dropped him off.
Well, it looks abandoned, bricked up.
Look, look, look.
Footprints.
Yes, to nowhere.
That's what he wanted us to think.
Open Sesame.
Zalman's fortress of solitude.
Wow, Castle.
My grandfather would've loved this place.
Look, he has a guillotine...
And an iron maiden.
He even had a zig zag box.
You know, you would've liked my grandfather.
In fact, you remind me of him a little.
I'm flattered. Hmm.
Wheelchair tracks?
Yeah, and they look fairly fresh.
Maybe he had a visitor.
Mm-hmm.
They look recent.
These papers are dated the day he was killed.
I'm gonna have to get C.S.U. to sweep this whole place.
Is this an accident or art?
Castle, take a look at this.
The pages are ripped,
like he didn't want anyone to know what he was working on.
Zalman?
Who the hell are you?
Best trick ever.
NYPD. Keep your hands where I can see them.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
What... what's going on? What are you doing here?
Zalman?
Edmund. Edmund Drake. His brother from Poughkeepsie?
You're a twin. Yeah.
Can I put my hands down? Uh, yeah.
Why were you hiding in the iron maiden?
It's the entrance from the other room.
I'm detective Beckett. We're here about your brother.
So am I. Where is he?
You don't know?
Mr. Drake, I'm sorry to tell you,
but your brother is dead.
Are you kidding me?
He has an identical twin who wears glasses.
That's the worst disguise since Clark Kent, and you believe him?
I have no reason not to. Look at him. He's devastated.
It's an act. Don't you ever go to movies?
It's...
It's probably Edmund who's dead,
and that dweeb in the next room is Zalman.
I bet he killed his brother to take over his life.
As an accountant in Poughkeepsie?
Well, I...
I knew something was wrong
when he called me a couple of days ago.
What did he call about?
Money.
He said someone was paying him a half a million dollars,
and he needed my help to hide it. Hide it how?
To make sure that the government never found out
where it came from.
The way he was talking, it sounded like
he'd gotten involved in something illegal.
And what were you doing at his warehouse?
Well, I just had this feeling yesterday
that something was terribly wrong,
and when I tried to reach him, I couldn't.
I drove down to the city. I think it was the twin thing.
You know, all our lives, we've had this connection.
Yeah, of course. The twin thing.
Tell me, Mr. Drake,
given your legacy,
why didn't you ever get into the family business, too?
No, I didn't have the passion... Or the skill.
Zalman and I, we, uh,
we did have an act together as kids.
He would disappear up on stage,
and then... then I would appear in the back of the audience.
I guess it was only amazing
to people who didn't know we were twins.
Well, you're being modest.
I'm sure you fooled a lot of people.
Mr. Drake, the activities that your brother was involved in,
if you looked through his things, do you think
that you would be able to determine what he was doing?
Zalman was a brilliant engineer,
and, uh, I'm afraid my brain just doesn't work that way.
He was someone special, you know?
Light up a room.
Look, detective, I don't know what he got mixed up in.
But I just know, he didn't deserve to die.
I can't believe you're letting him just walk out of here.
If this was a movie... It's not a movie,
and what am I supposed to charge him with,
being a twin?
Being an evil twin in a magic murder.
A half-a-million-dollar payment that he's hiding
from the government, bricks of C4?
That doesn't sound like magic to me.
Beckett.
C.S.U. is just finishing their initial sweep.
So far we haven't been able to find anything
to indicate who Zalman might have been working for
other than Tobias Strange,
but C.S.U. did find some trace residue of C4 explosives
on the workbench.
And what about the tracks?
You were right. They are from a wheelchair.
The tracks are pretty distinctive.
We're running down make and model now. Yeah, well, with any luck,
Professor X will turn out to be Zalman's mystery client.
Right. Thanks.
What about this? Zalman gets in over his head,
he lures his brother down here,
suffocates him, sticks him in a tank
so it looks like he's dead.
Meanwhile, Zalman, as Edmund, inherits his own magic shop
collects his own insurance, all the while
takes Edmund's wife and children,
who love him, as his own.
It's "dead ringer." Are you still talking?
Edmund is Zalman.
Couldn't be more wrong.
I ran the prints on our victim. He is Zalman.
Satisfied, Castle? More like disappointed.
Well, maybe this will cheer you up.
Old man hair.
White rabbit fur.
It came from his teeth and throat.
So he was killed by a rabbit
who did not want to be pulled out of a hat.
Your guess is as good as mine.
In the process of trying to determine
how Zalman was asphyxiated, I also discovered
the presence of a low dose of organophosphates
in his nose and throat.
Organophosphates?
It's found in hydraulic fluids, jet engine oil,
insecticides, nerve agents. Nerve agents?
Well, along with the C4,
our magician's sounding
more like a terrorist. The amount is too small
to indicate that he had been working with them directly,
- but he definitely was exposed to them recently. - Oye, chica.
I was in the hood, and I
thought that we should talk about the... tests...
That you had me run.
Um, they're in the back. I'll go get 'em.
Yeah. Thanks. What tests?
Different case. Hey, I was just about to call you.
You know those wheelchair tracks
that you found at Zalman's workshop?
Well, they had a sawtooth pattern
unique to one brand of tire made for electric wheelchairs.
We called the half a dozen specialty shops
that stock that tire, and we cross referenced
recent purchases with the mailing list
of the magic shop. Did you get a match?
Yeah. Thaddeus Magnus.
He's a professional government protestor.
He's got multiple arrests for civil disobediences,
and get this... he drives a white van.
Government protestor, civil disobedience.
You mix that in with C4 and nerve agent,
you're looking at Tim McVeigh. You have an address?
Thanks. Mm-hmm.
Nice work.
That... was close.
No. This...
Is close.
How does a guy in a wheelchair
lift someone into a tank of water?
Mr. Magnus, NYPD. Open up.
Maybe the wheelchair is an act.
In every magic story, there's an unexpected twist
where things aren't always what they seem.
It's an obligation of the genre.
What? NYPD.
We need to ask you a few questions about Zalman Drake.
Zalman Drake
of Drake Magic.
End of an era.
I hear it was a failed escape.
More like a successful murder. Oh?
He was asphyxiated before he was lowered into the tank.
You mean he was really murdered?
And guess whose van was spotted outside his shop
right about when he died.
Would you just not touch that, please? Who wants the ball?
It took me five years to build it.
What was he working on for you?
What were the explosives for? Explosives?
What are you talking about?
Look, Zalman was my friend.
He didn't work for me.
I worked for him, making specialty items
for those tricks he designed.
Nothing explosive.
Just... well, things like that.
Doesn't change the fact,
you were at his store when he died.
Does it look like I could've lifted him into a tank?
Well, maybe you borrowed a set of legs.
Maybe these or someone else's. Stop it.
If anyone killed him, it was those guys he met. What guys?
The guys he was working for.
I was there at the warehouse when they called.
I went there to pick up a check for some work I did on the job.
They wanted to meet him.
Told him to go to the store after closing.
Zalman... asked me to drop him off.
Next thing I hear, he's dead.
I didn't know it was murder.
The job that you did for him, what was it?
Well, he wanted me to make him a mechanical arm.
You know, something to trigger a switch remotely.
Theoretically, what could it trigger?
Well, anything... turn on a light, ring a bell.
Set off a bomb?
Oh, look, I swear, I thought he was joking.
About what?
He said this was his greatest magic trick ever.
Said he was getting paid a fortune
to get away with murder.
You really think someone would hire a magician
to help them get away with murder? I mean, it's brilliant really.
Magicians are masters at misdirection.
If they can manipulate audiences,
they can manipulate witnesses.
They could even make people testify
to things that never happened. It's just so hard to believe
that a person with that much respect for magic
would use his skills to kill. He needed to save his shop,
and a half-a-million-dollar payday was too good to be true.
And it was. Instead of a payday, he got whacked.
Well, the people who hired him probably figured
it was safer to kill him than run the risk
of having an attack of conscience and rat them out.
Okay, so without evidence, how are we gonna find 'em?
By finding out exactly who they hired Zalman to kill.
We know he was working on a trick
involving C4 and a remote triggering device.
Well, whoever he killed went out with a bang.
There can't have been that many deaths
in the tristate area in the last couple of weeks
where someone was killed by an explosion.
Where are we with ATF and the fire department?
We're supposed to get their reports in the morning.
Okay, meantime, let's see what we can dig up ourselves.
You know how many explosions there are
in New York City every week?
Steam pipe explodes.
Gas stove explodes.
Unhappy couple explodes.
Well, didn't you explode in a rather ritzy restaurant
with, uh...
Aha. Speak of the devil.
You're not gonna answer that?
Answer what? Ooh. Well done.
Of course, making your phone disappear
doesn't make your problem disappear.
No.
Hey, come on, kiddo.
What's going on with you two, really?
Nothing's going on.
No, nothing at all. Everything is fine.
Everything is...
Just fine.
It's ordinary.
The problem is, I...
I don't want ordinary.
I want...
Magic.
Yeah. You know what the problem is,
is we just aren't in love.
Neither one of us wants to admit...
Organophosphates.
It wasn't a nerve agent. It was jet oil.
Zalman was at an airport. What? I...
I gotta go.
Now you see him, now you don't.
Hey. I think I figured out who Zalman was paid to kill.
Billionaire philanthropist Christian Dahl?
How did you...
Organophosphates, jet oil, airport.
It's like we could be twins.
Connection.
Conjecture.
All we know right now is that Dahl
took off from Teterboro Saturday afternoon
intending to set a transatlantic speed record in his jet.
Apparently, something went wrong,
and the plane broke up midair.
Witnesses out on an oil tanker out on Long Island sound
claim to have seen a white flash and smoke in the sky.
Well, a midair explosion
would account for all the C4 that Zalman bought from Chuck.
And Magnus' remote triggering device.
Well, whoever wanted Christian dead
probably killed Zalman to cover up the crime.
Except all we have now is speculation.
Yo. I just got off with the F.A.A.
They're sending over footage of the takeoff.
Okay, there's Dahl getting on his jet
for the transatlantic flight attempt.
Looks like he's doing his preflight.
Look at that.
It matches the outline on the wall in Zalman's workshop.
He was painting a decal.
Zoom in on that guy.
It's Zalman Drake.
He dressed like a caterer.
Probably so he can get past security.
He delivered something. Yeah, explosives and a triggering device.
This was a murder for hire.
Skip ahead.
And freeze it.
He planned for Christian Dahl's plane
to break up over the Atlantic.
It's the perfect crime... No evidence...
No body... no killer.
You are crazy. I've never even tried anything like...
Yeah. Okay. Yeah, me, too. Bye. Who was that?
Coast guard. I was just seeing if they, uh,
found the plane's data recorder. Hmm. Did they?
Did they what? Hey, guys, where are you on Christian Dahl?
This guy was unbelievable.
He became a billionaire by always being exactly
in the right place at exactly the right time to invest
in whatever stock, product or idea was just about to hit.
Did he have any enemies, anyone that was threatening him?
No, all the people I talked to loved him.
He gave away more money than Oprah,
and he gave a lot of money
to research into the occult. He climbed Everest,
he flew across Europe in a hot air balloon,
he even drove a dog sled in the iditarod.
Well, with that much going for him,
he had to have had a couple of haters.
Just one, and she had both motive and opportunity.
Naomi Weldon?
Naomi Weldon Dahl...
Christian's wife and a former fashion model.
Apparently, a month ago,
Christian caught her having an affair,
and according to their prenup, if he divorced her,
she wound up with nothing.
And if he dies, she inherits billions.
Where was this photo taken? Ah, you noticed.
The Dahl Foundation benefit six weeks ago.
And the entertainment for the evening was... Zalman Drake.
You know, Jerome did say
Zalman made someone disappear that night.
Naomi sees his performance
and wonders if Zalman can make her husband disappear forever.
And with billions on the line...
Half a million's just chump change.
When they told me that Christian's plane disappeared,
that's exactly what I thought.
That your husband's death was no accident?
Christian was a perfectionist, and he was superstitious.
He did three background checks before he married me.
You and your husband had
an airtight prenuptial agreement.
Standard when two high-profile people marry.
And if you left the marriage or had an affair,
you'd be leaving the marriage
without spousal or child support.
Those were the terms.
I have my own career. I can take care of myself.
But you were having an affair.
Whether or not I had an affair is none of your affair.
If you're implying that I murdered my husband
to be with someone else, you're mistaken.
I wouldn't kill anyone. Not even to inherit a fortune?
Well, then the joke would be on me.
There is no fortune.
All of Christian's accounts have been frozen.
You mean you're in probate.
No, I mean frozen. Why?
You'll have to ask the district attorney's office.
God knows, they wouldn't tell me.
That was the D.A.
Apparently, at the time of his death,
our billionaire investment guru
was being investigated by the S.E.C.
They thought that he was making his money
the old-fashioned way, by stealing it.
All of his amazing stock returns were falsified.
The whole thing was a Ponzi scheme.
As it turns out, they were a couple of weeks away
from indicting Christian Dahl for massive fraud.
He was gonna lose everything
and face 50 years in federal prison.
If I were him, I'd want to disappear,
too. And what better way to disappear...
Than hire a magician? Bingo.
Christian Dahl is on the plane doing his preflight check.
Zalman leaves the plane...
Dahl taxis to the runway and takes off.
Well, he had to have gotten off at some point,
otherwise, it would've been a suicide mission,
and you don't need a magician for that.
Unless...
That isn't Christian Dahl.
It looks just like him. Dummy.
Not you. The... on... in the cockpit.
They switched out real Dahl for dummy Dahl.
Magnus didn't build a triggering device for an explosion.
The arm he built was for doing the preflight check.
The whole thing's an automaton. That's the magic trick.
He made it look to the world like Christian Dahl
was still on the plane, the same way Tobias Strange made it look
like he was still in the cabinet when
the swords went in. And then he used the catering box
to get the dummy on board and Christian Dahl off.
Then who's piloting that plane?
Christian Dahl, only not from the cockpit.
He had it rigged to fly via remote control. See?
Zalman puts the box in the van.
There's probably a console inside there
linked to the plane's avionics. Dahl takes off remotely...
Flies out over the Atlantic...
And then he detonates the explosion,
and everyone thinks that he's dead
because everyone's seen him on board.
Only Dahl is very much alive,
and there's only one person in the world that knows it.
Zalman, and as long as he's alive, he's a threat to Dahl.
So Dahl has to tie up that one loose end.
But he can't risk anyone knowing that he's still alive.
So Dahl has to kill Zalman himself.
What?
Nothing. So what do we do now?
Well, it's four days since the accident.
Christian Dahl is probably in some non-extradition country
with a chunk of his fortune by now.
Yeah, probably.
Unless...
Unless what?
Well, Dahl does everything publicly.
The guy loves being famous. Everyone thinks he's dead.
A guy like that... No, it's crazy.
Castle, crazy is exactly what we need right now.
Castle, this is crazy. Crazy but in character.
Look at the kind of guy Christian Dahl was...
How he loved the limelight,
his fascination with life after death.
You think a guy like that is gonna miss the opportunity
to attend his own funeral?
Would you? Not a chance.
Okay, so if he's here, how do we find him?
Well, he'll be in disguise, of course.
Look for an anomaly,
someone who's trying to fit in yet sticking to the outskirts,
someone who isn't engaging in conversation
but at the same time,
eavesdropping on other people's conversations.
Someone who's... got long hair, a beard, and $1,000 shoes?
Yeah, that'll work, too.
Mr. Dahl.
You shoulda stayed dead, bro.
So I faked my own death.
So what? That's not a crime.
What are you gonna charge me with, littering the Atlantic?
I'll stand in line behind B.P.
The charge is premeditated murder.
We figured out your little trick.
Zalman performed for your charity event.
He made you disappear, giving you the inspiration
to pull the ultimate escape. You knew he needed money,
so you made him an offer he couldn't refuse.
But you never planned on paying him, did you, Mr. Dahl?
No, you planned on using his desperation
over the loss of his family's legacy
to make people think that he committed suicide.
Staging a shooting, it's too cumbersome.
Too many questions. Where'd the gun come from?
So you used what you had on hand to get rid of
the only person on earth who knew you were still alive.
Once he was gone, you'd be free and clear.
Is...
Is that what you do when you can't solve a crime,
concoct fantasies?
The rabbit hair that lined your gloves
was found on our victim.
You called Zalman, met him at his shop,
put your gloved hand over his mouth,
and then you smothered him.
If you think I'm afraid of you or the S.E.C...
I will beat your pants off and enjoy every minute of it...
Assuming you can find me once I'm out on bail.
It's not me that you should be scared of, Mr. Dahl,
or the S.E.C.
You should be afraid of what you've become.
Well, if you're done with your lecture
or your petty threats, I'd like to see my...
My lawyer.
Something wrong, Dahl?
No.
Christian?
H...
How are you doing that?
Doing what?
Aah!
Is he having flashbacks? I don't know.
Do you see him?
Who?
He was right here.
Oh, God.
You can't... you can't be here.
You're dead!
You're dead. I...
I killed you.
Alakazam, jackass.
How did you know that would work?
I didn't. I just knew he'd lawyer up.
So I figured, why not take a shot?
Your grandfather would be proud.
Thank you so much, gentlemen.
Always a pleasure to lend a hand to the NYPD.
I might add this one to my repertoire
in tribute to your brother.
Thank you, detective, Mr. Castle.
So what's gonna happen to Drake's Magic Shop?
Hmm. Tobias and I were discussing that.
Zalman put his life on the line for it,
so we'd like to find a way to keep it alive.
Maybe we can pull a solution out of our collective hats.
Good night.
Bye.
Hey, could you, uh...
Oh, yeah.
So... where's Esposito?
Huh. Take a wild guess. Lanie?
Can you believe they still think that none of us know?
Oh, let's let 'em keep thinking that a while longer.
The bubble bursts soon enough.
Not if you're in it with the right person. Thanks. Thank you. See you.
Excuse me. I need to take this. Yeah.
No. No.
What I'm saying is...
It's over.
Heading out? Yeah. It's late.
Motorcycle boy?
I really wish you would stop calling him that.
Dr. Motorcycle boy. He's on shift tonight.
I was gonna see if I could catch the comfort food truck.
You want to come?
Macaroni and cheese, warm biscuits, hot chocolate?
How could I say no?
Hey, I wanted to say thanks for, um,
not mentioning that article or asking what was going on.
Not a problem.
Sync by YYeTs.net Corrected by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com