Whoa.
Burn it all!
Burn it out!
Whoa!
Let me show you my place, huh?
Oh! I gotta tweet this.
No one will believe I'm with...
The terrific Nick.
Mm. Uh, "authentic" Nick.
Not "terrific," okay?
I mean, uh... we're the best.
I'll bet.
And it smells so good.
It does... smell good.
Somebody here?
Dad?
It smells like ribs. Is that barbecue pizza?
No, we don't do barbecue pizza, all right?
That's for the hacks like terrific Nick.
Ooh, nice and crispy.
Just the way you like it.
You eat it. I'm not hungry.
You've never said no to turkey bacon.
What's wrong?
Nothing. Something.
Don't make me tong you.
Not even a smile. Must be serious.
It's Lauren's birthday party. I'm not going.
What? You been talking about that party for weeks.
"It's gonna be the party of the century."
Yesterday Lauren came up to me,
and in front of everybody, told me I was disinvited.
It was humiliating. Why would Lauren do something like that?
She's one of your best friends. She was one of my best friends.
I have no idea why she's acting like this,
and she refuses to talk to me, and Ashley's still invited,
and so is everyone else.
And it's like I'm a social leper.
Well, Ashley's not gonna go without you.
Just because I have leprosy doesn't mean he should.
Well, I think you should throw a rival party
and invite all your friends to that one instead.
The party's tonight, and she has a live band performing.
I can't compete with that. Well,
then I'll call Lauren's mom, and I'll...
you're joking, right?
What, so I can be a leper and a tattletale?
I'm 17. I can deal with this on my own.
It's just... every instinct in my body
is telling me to protect her.
Yeah, but when it comes to teenagers,
not even you can protect her. Alexis is gonna have to deal
with backstabbers her whole life.
But she's intelligent enough to rise above all of that.
I don't know. She looked like she was ready to commit murder.
Speaking of murder.
I thought terrific Nick's on the east side was number one.
Uh, no, that's authentic terrific Nick's.
This is just authentic Nick's. This isn't terrific?
No, just authentic. It's also not terrific authentic Nick's,
but that's across the street. What's the difference?
The difference is, this one has a dead body in the oven.
O-kay.
That is really... well-done.
Another couple of hours, maybe,
but luckily for me, he's only half-baked.
Male, mid-40s, that's about as much I.D. As I can give you.
Based on the oven setting and the body's core temperature,
I'd say he went in no sooner than 2:00 A.M.
I'm afraid to ask. Cause of death?
It wasn't the oven. The stab wound through the chest
says he was dead when he went in.
No sign of forced entry.
But we're running the prints on the door handle just the same.
All right. Run 'em on the oven as well.
Who found him? Uh, Nick Jr.
Unbelievable. Give me his number.
Authentic, not terrific.
No. I got no idea who he is.
I mean, I open up the oven, and bam... there he is.
And who were the last ones here last night? My dad and me.
We closed around 11:00,
and then I hit up the Kaydar lounge,
met up with a lady friend, and then we came back here
to, uh... have a slice.
And when was that?
I don't know. 4:30.
Where's your lady friend now? She was kinda throwing up a lot,
so the paramedics had to take her in.
Oh, but I kept her number.
I-I don't think there's gonna be a second date.
Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry.
I'm gonna need a list of all of your employees
and delivery staff. You don't
think it was one of our guys in the oven, do you?
As soon as you get me that list, I'll start making phone calls.
Ohh. I don't believe this.
You gotta be kidding me.
Dad, these are the cops.
You must be authentic Nick.
The one and only. Nick?
I have the proprietor listed as Ralph Carbone.
Yeah, that's me. Everybody calls me Nick. Why?
Because that's what everybody calls me.
I can't believe those bastards put a body in my oven.
I'm sorry, Mr. Carbone.
You think that you know who did this? Yeah, sure.
I'll bet it was that jackhole.
Terrific authentic Nick?
Sal Malavolta. He used to work for us years ago before opening
his own lousy pizza shop right across the street.
He stole my friggin' recipes.
It's Sal that done this, along with the other two. The other two?
Yeah, that vulture there. Terrific Nick?
Vinnie Delfino. And that dirtbag there.
And authentic terrific Nick. Luca Sabalini.
All three of them, they're thieves.
They live off our name, and they're not even real Nick's.
I'm the only real Nick. And your real name is Ralph.
Exactly. They been trying to run me outta dodge for years.
And now this. Who's gonna buy my pizza now, huh?
Hey! Hey! You happy? I'm outta business!
Mr. Carbone, what makes you think that one of them did this?
A few weeks ago, one of them
snuck a gallon of soap into my secret sauce.
Cost me a whole day of returned pies.
Now look, uh, I may or may not have retaliated,
but if I did,
them putting a cadaver in my oven
that's, uh, them retaliating back.
Mr. Carbone, that's not a cadaver.
What do you mean? It's a... they brought...
they... they got this from some medical school.
No, this isn't a prank. This is murder.
We got through to all their employees.
Everybody's accounted for. Lanie,
what are the chances of getting an I.D.?
I'm not hopeful on fingerprints. We may have to wait
for a missing persons report
and dental records. We also started a canvass
to see if anybody saw anything last night.
All right, let's get statements off all the employees,
especially the ones with keys.
I'd like to know what they were doing last night.
Shouldn't we look into the other Nick's,
too? Come on, bro. You don't really think
this is about some kind of pizza rivalry, do you?
Competition to be the best in New York, clear animosity?
Carbone said they'd broken in before.
If we are looking into everyone with access,
we should look into them as well.
He's right, you know?
Pizza's serious business in this town.
All right. Great. You talk to them. Wait. Me?
No, I... come on.
You know, you have to admit, a pizza oven...
very clever way to get rid of a body.
In "at dusk we die", I had my psychotic paralegal
kill her abusive boss and put him in a pottery kiln.
He was reduced to ashes in a matter of hours.
Of course, you already know this, don't you?
That's probably what our killer planned on doing
until Nick Jr. showed up. Did I hear right?
You found a body in the oven at terrific Nick's?
Authentic Nick's. Authentic Nick's?
Oh, thank God. The wife loves terrific Nick's.
I didn't have the heart
to tell her it now came in full-bodied flavor.
Oh, I liked .. I liked it.
Hey.
So we ran through all of authentic Nick's employees.
They alibied out, but I did find a bunch of stuff
on the other Nick's. Criminal complaints?
Yeah, dozens of them filed back and forth between
all the Nick's over the years... bricks through front windows,
slashed delivery car tires, ooh, flaming bags of poo.
Thank you. Yep.
What, that's it?
Flaming bags of poo, soap in secret sauces?
Come on, Castle. What do you think,
these guys suddenly graduated from frat pranks to murder?
Beckett.
As expected, the body was too badly burned to get any prints,
but I did find this.
You see here where the shin bone should be?
Those are titanium plates.
So killer cyborg sent from the future,
resistance fighters intercept his coordinates,
redirect him into a pizza oven, saving humanity.
The plates have serial numbers.
I ran 'em through the surgical database
and got an I.D.
Gordon Burns.
Gordon Burns?
Yes, Castle, Burns.
Go ahead, make your joke. Get it out of your system.
Gordon Burns, as in "New York ledger"? You know him?
Well, not personally. He was a reporter.
I used to love his work.
Did you find anything else on the body?
A melted cell phone belt clip, but there was no cell phone.
Yeah, it wasn't at the crime scene, either.
And that's his wallet.
Some credit cards,
driver's license... that's all melted.
Girlfriend, wife?
Burns is listed as divorced, no next of kin.
He was a war correspondent, an investigative reporter.
What was he doing in a pizza oven?
Maybe his editor knows.
We were friends, so when I became editor of the paper,
he was my first hire. The kinds of stories he wrote,
he must have stepped on his fair share of toes.
Not for years. He'd been out of the game for a while.
Why is that?
His kid was killed in an accident.
She was 10. After that, he finally gave in
to his love affair with the bottle.
We see that you still had him on the payroll.
He did the occasional human interest story
for our lifestyles section.
A waste of his talent, but it let him make rent,
keep his insurance.
Mr. Shaw, was he working on anything recently?
Just a puff piece I had assigned him last week. About what?
The pizza wars. You know, those authentic, amazing,
terrific guys always fighting over which one's the best.
It wasn't Afghanistan. But Gordon was Gordon.
He called a few days ago and said it was much bigger
than I thought. Bigger how?
He didn't say, but I mean, it's pizza wars.
How big could it be? Big enough to kill for.
Castle [3x20] Slice of Life
Let's dig deeper into all of the Nick's...
terrific, authentic, and otherwise,
and let's also run background checks
on all of their employees.
You know, this guy survived Afghanistan,
the invasion of Irag, even Tiananmen square,
to be killed doing a puff piece on pizza?
It's like being a cop, bro.
You survive a firefight with a dozen armed gangbangers
only to be hit by a car while writing a speeding ticket on the LIE. ( Long Island Expressway )
I ran a trace on the Burn's missing phone.
It's either out of battery or turned off
all right run LUD's ( Local Usage Details, phone ) and financials
I wanna find out where he was and what was he doing last night. - On it.
This has to be
about something bigger than who has the best pizza.
You know, Burns probably had notes
and drafts of his story in his apartment.
If we can find them, we can figure out
what he was up to last night. Let's go.
Door's been kicked open.
Room's clear.
This place is trashed.
I'm gonna check with the neighbors,
see if anybody heard anything. Okay.
These drawers have been emptied.
If there were files or notes, they're gone now.
Well, whatever he was working on,
someone didn't want us to find it.
You okay?
Yeah. No, yeah.
Um, I think I met her.
I went to a book signing of his, the one he did on the, uh,
Sarajevo snipers.
She was...
Coloring next to him while he was signing books.
He must have been a good writer for you to stand in line.
Yeah. He was.
Come on. Let's go get C.S.U.
Hey. I got something weird.
Burns' neighbor, she says she's been holding
his mail for the last week. Apparently Burns told her
he was going out of the country for a while.
Out of the country? We know he's been here.
You know, that's the kind of lie that you tell people
when you don't want anyone looking for you.
And if he's been staying somewhere else,
there's a chance we could still find his notes.
I'm gonna to get a hold of his editor,
find out where he might have been staying.
How does a story about pizza send somebody into hiding?
Or get them killed? Beckett.
Hey. Just got the C.S.U. Report back.
The back doorknob of the pizza shop was wiped clean,
but they did find Nick's prints all over the pizza oven.
Well, that's to be expected. I mean, he worked there.
Not authentic Nick. These prints belong to
his neighbor across the street... terrific authentic Nick.
So, Nick, or should I say Sal?
Know this guy? Yeah, I know him.
That's the reporter doing the story on us.
And what did the two of you talk about?
Who's the real Nick,
and I told him about my grandpa Nick
and how he was an authentic Ellis island immigrant
who was flipping his terrific dough
on Mott Street the very day he arrived.
What else? That's it. Why?
Just doesn't seem like a good enough reason to kill.
Kill? We found your fingerprints, Sal, all over the oven.
You found my prints?
Yeah.
So why don't we back up? And you tell us why you killed Burns.
And this time, hold the extra cheese. I-I can explain.
I was there, but I didn't kill nobody.
Ralph thought I was soaping his sauce,
so he broke into my place
and took all the breakers out of my electrical panel.
Now he's always bragging about his oven, so I thought I'd...
put a body in it.
No, steal it. I went over there a couple nights ago
to see what I need to get it out. You're kidding me, right?
I was in O'Meary's on Staten Island last night,
till closing.
Okay? It was dart night. I took third place.
You want to look at somebody, look at Ralph. Why Ralph?
What do you think, he makes that money with his crappy pizza?
He's connected. That's why I left.
All he cares about is laundering money for his wise guy pals.
You didn't happen to mention this to Burns, did you?
As a matter of fact, I did.
Money laundering? Whoa.
We ran you through the federal database.
We know about the FBI investigation in the '90s
and about your connection to the Spolano crime family.
My connection?
He's my second cousin once removed.
I see him at Thanksgiving once every five years.
And the feds never found anything. The feds didn't,
but maybe Burns did.
So what happened, Ralph? Did he threaten to expose you?
You make him... disappear until your... your kid showed up
before that oven you're so proud of could finish the job?
I make money with my pizza.
You want to look at my books? Go ahead.
You're gonna find exactly the same thing the feds found...
nada, zip, zilch.
Sal put yous two up to this, right?
Sal's the one brought the feds in
in the first place, trying to shut me down.
You should be looking at him.
Sal had an alibi for last night.
What about you, Mr. Carbone?
I'm at home in bed. You could ask my wife.
And that reporter, all he asked me about was pizza.
That guy is guilty of something.
Not until we have proof.
Hey, Ryan. Any luck on where our victim was last night?
Well, we're still waiting for info from his bank,
but I got his LUD's. Nothing last night,
and only a few calls to his editor
in the previous days. A reporter chasing down a story?
No, there should be dozens of calls. Well,
maybe he was making them from wherever he was staying.
Any leads on the girl in the photo?
No. But I got in touch with Burns' ex in Portland.
They hadn't seen each other in years. Yo. Pay dirt.
I canvassed Burns' building. At first, it was all,
"he's so quiet. He just keeps to himself."
But this other neighbor who just came home
said that she saw Burns and another guy having
a knock-down, drag-out yelling match just before he left.
About what? All she remembers is the other guy yelling,
"if you try to print that, I swear to God, I'll kill ya!"
Did you get a description?
And I'll give you a hint. He's authentic...
And terrific.
So me and Burns argued? So what?
It's a free country.
Free speech doesn't cover death threats, Mr. Sabalini.
Or murder. I told you, I was home last night.
Yeah, you did, but your wife tells us a different story.
It seems she remembers you sneaking out before midnight,
after you thought she was asleep.
She told us you were off to see
"that whore mistress of his over in flatbush,"
and when she confronted you about it this morning,
you told her that you went into the city
because the store alarm was going off.
We checked. It wasn't.
So who were you lying to, Luca, me or your wife?
My wife.
I was with Angie last night. You can ask her.
I could. But it doesn't mean I'm gonna believe her.
What were you and Burns fighting about?
He was gonna write something about me,
destroy everything I've worked for.
I had to stop him. And what was he gonna write?
About my pizza.
About what makes my fat-free pizza taste so good.
It's made with real cheese.
There's nothing fat-free about it.
You were gonna kill for that? It's an expression.
Besides, Burns called me last night. He said
he'd consider not running it if I'd do him a favor.
What favor?
Hey, he didn't say what.
He was supposed to stop by today to talk about it.
You said that he called you yesterday? From where?
Okay, got it. The incoming call on his cell
was from the hotel beta in midtown.
All right, let's go.
Thanks.
Paid in cash, signed in under the name Melville.
This guy's definitely flying under the radar.
Castle, there's his computer.
Okay.
"New York's authentic terrific pizza wars."
Sharp narration,
delicate prose.
It's a puff piece. Well, I can practically smell the garlic,
but there's nothing in there
that's about anything heavier than pizza.
Or what got him killed. Mm, his most recent notes.
Pizza, recipes,
inter...
what?
Look at that.
That's last night.
He was meeting with someone.
Someone from that phone number, just before he was killed.
I'm gonna run that down. You have an app for that?
Yeah, NYPD issue. We just got it.
Can I... whoa.
Fine.
Then you don't get to play my "angry birds."
And they just came out with a new one.
"Johnny Farrell, Swede Anderson."
How do I know those names?
I don't know, but recognize this person?
That's the woman from Burns' wallet.
Bingo. Monica Wyatt.
And if she met with him last night,
she might be the last person to have seen him alive.
I wonder if they went out for pizza.
Little upscale for the pizza world.
Unless she's a middle man.
For the money laundering operation?
She transfers the assets out of country
into Swiss bank accounts using the names
Johnny Farrell and Swede Anderson.
Or she's just a real estate agent as she claims to be.
Oh, that's just her cover to avoid scrutiny with the feds.
You had a lot of imaginary
friends growing up, didn't you? Still do.
Hi. Can I help you?
I can't believe he still had this.
He actually took this on our first date.
And how long were the two of you together?
Just a couple of months,
but God, this had to be three years ago.
I saw him once or twice after his daughter's accident.
He was different. It's like he just drifted away.
What made you see him last night?
I-I didn't see him last night.
Well, according to his notes, he met up with you at 10:00 P.M.
Well, that wasn't a meeting. That was a date.
But... he didn't show.
You said you hadn't seen him in years.
How did you end up on a date?
We bumped into each other in the street the other day.
It was weird because...
It was in the village, and I never go down there,
and he said he doesn't go down there either,
but he was working on a story.
Did he tell you what it was about?
No.
How did he seem... uh, worried, distressed?
He seemed like himself,
like his old self,
like he was on to something.
He'd just come from the hall of records,
and whatever he found, he was really excited about.
The hall of records?
Yeah.
Ms. Wyatt, do the names Johnny Farrell
or Swede Anderson mean anything to you?
I can't say they do.
Monica Wyatt... checks.
Her brokerage house says that she complains
about commissions more than they'd like,
but other than that, she's clean.
You find anything else in there?
Nope. The rest is just pizza. Hey.
I just got through Burns' financials.
Any activity last night? Uh, yeah. Something odd.
15 P.M., he used his ATM card.
Where? A not-so-good neighborhood
about 15 blocks away from authentic Nick's.
But here's the odd part... he never finished the transaction.
You mean he canceled it.
No, no, he never finished it.
He popped in his ATM card,
but then after about a minute of inactivity,
it ate his card. It's almost as if...
something happened. Get ATM surveillance. Let's find out what.
I'm gonna go to the hall of records tomorrow morning
and see if we can figure out what Burns was up to.
Well...
What happened?
Alexis decided to crash Lauren's party,
against our better judgment...
And I take it that
the, uh, party crashing didn't go so well?
None of this would've happened if Lauren wasn't
the most conniving bitch in the entire world. Whoa.
It's warranted. When the band was performing,
Lauren brought Ashley up on stage with her,
and she kissed him in front of everyone.
Bitch. How could she do this to me, to Ashley?
What did Ashley do? He was mortified.
He ran off stage, and we left.
I mean, he was apologizing a thousand times and said
he had no idea that she was gonna do that.
It's like she's been trying to break us up this whole time.
It's been her master plan. Well, she didn't succeed, darling.
You and Ashley are stronger than ever,
and... and she looks like a fool. Yeah, I wish that were true.
But according to the Internet, Ashley cheated on me.
She already posted the pictures of them kissing
all over her web site.
It's a nightmare.
Where's Beckett?
Oh, hall of records,
tracking down what Burns was looking for. Great.
Listen... if I gave you a web site,
could you have your friends at tech hack into it
and take some pictures down?
Did someone find naked pictures of you again?
No, it's not me. It's Alexis.
It's for Alexis.
Uh, this just got awkward. What's this about?
Okay.
Mean girl at school kiss-ambushed Alexis' boyfriend
and then posted the photographic proof on her web site.
Alexis... very upset. Mm-hmm.
I-I could have my friend Tony
take care of it, you know, off the record. Thanks.
Mm-hmm. And, uh, no need to mention this to Beckett.
You know how she gets with these things.
Yeah.
Things like abusing police resources
for your own personal agenda?
What?
That's ridic... no, you don't... ab... no, that's... that's...
So, uh, what'd you find? Anything on Nick's?
Uh, not exactly.
Burns requested files relating to the 2003 murder
of a drug trafficker named Harley Romero,
a.K.A. Harley playful, also known as handsome Harley.
Judging from those photos, I'm guessing it was ironic.
What's a guy who's been dead for eight years
have to do with pizza? Mm. Hey, Ryan.
Yep. Did you get a chance to look into all the Nick's
and their employees? Oh, yeah,
just going over the reports right now.
Mostly minor stuff. Any drug charges?
No, nothing about drugs. Romero? You think maybe
it's some kind of mafia tie-in with authentic Nick's?
According to the file, there's no connection
to any of the families. Someone didn't like him.
It says here he was shot a dozen times,
dumped in an oil drum, and set on fire.
Yeah, word on the street was that a dealer killed him
over a turf war. So why was Burns looking at him?
Yo. Bank just sent over surveillance footage.
You guys gotta see this.
Looks like he's running from something.
He's running from something all right. Watch this.
He knows he's on camera. He's trying to tell us something.
He's writing it.
Whoa! Okay, take it back.
And freeze there.
He's got a knife.
He was trying to send us a message,
but he recorded his own murder. Close up on the face.
Castle, look at that face.
That's Harley Romero.
And he is very much alive.
Why would he stop to write a message?
Why not just keep running? Well,
that street empties on to a blind alley.
Maybe Burns thought he couldn't get away.
Any idea what he was writing there?
We're seeing if tech can enhance the image,
but we found no connection between this Harley
and the pizza joints. Maybe pizza has nothing to do with it.
Maybe Burns knew Harley from an old story.
No. I-I don't recognize him at all.
Did Burns ever mention the name Harley
in any of his stories?
Never. When this guy supposedly died,
Gordon was embedded with the 2nd marine division
in Gulf II.
Mr. Shaw, do the names Johnny Farrell
or Swede Anderson mean anything to you?
Yeah. They do.
They're both characters from old film noir movies. Right.
Uh, Johnny Farrell from the movie "Gilda"
Glenn Ford's character, and Burt Lancaster played
Swede Anderson in "The Killers."
And why would these two names be important?
This guy... Harley... what kind of drugs was he dealing?
Heroin, why?
Because the only heroin story Burns ever chased
was the one that he could never finish,
about a high-end distribution ring in New York
that sets up shop inside legitimate businesses.
When someone needed product, they'd use a code word.
Their code happens to be names of characters from film noir.
It's that story that destroyed him.
Why? Because of the guy who was behind the ring.
It was Cavallo.
Gordon Burns was gunning for the prince of darkness himself.
Who's Cavallo?
It's a-a street myth, an urban legend.
Anytime a dealer gets whacked, people always say it's Cavallo,
but he's not even real. Oh, Cavallo's real.
Come on, Shaw. We've all heard the scary stories.
I didn't. So the story goes
that Cavallo was mentored
by this badass Colombian drug lord...
Khazi "The Conqueror"...
and eventually he put a bullet to his boss' head,
slit all of his kids' throats, and took over the operation.
But I mean, it's a fairy tale.
Not to Burns. Not to his daughter.
Burns told me he had a contact
that was getting him close to Cavallo.
The next day, he and his daughter
are crossing the street, this car appears out of nowhere.
When he came to, his leg was shattered.
Nina was 20 feet away, bleeding out,
and he couldn't even crawl over to hold her,
so don't you tell me Cavallo isn't real.
It sounds like Burns was Ahab and Cavallo, his white whale.
Well, he did sign in to the hotel as Melville.
You know, it's that kind of sly humor that Burns was known for.
And while I am loathe to profile,
the name Cavallo... also the Italian word for "horse"...
might suggest a link back to the 4 Nick's.
Hey, Ryan. When you were in narcotics,
when was the first time you heard the name Cavallo?
I don't know. Probably around, uh, '03.
Around all that time all those dealers were getting whacked.
Well, that's right when Harley was killed.
So Harley stages his own death,
brutally murders his competition,
and then starts a whisper campaign on the streets
about the new dark prince of heroin...
And a legend is born. Yo.
Tech was able to blow up and enhance that ATM video.
They're sending it up now.
I still can't make it out. Mnh-mnh.
Run it again.
Can you flip it and slow it down?
Yeah. What are you doing?
What I do best... writing.
Okay, 3...
6... s...
That could be a 5. Okay, s or a 5...
W-1-2... 7?
It's an address.
B... a... s?
Basement.
365 west 127th street, in the basement.
That's three blocks from the ATM.
Police! Nobody move!
NYPD!
Room's clear. Somebody moved out in a hurry.
Coffee grinders for cutting. Envelopes for packaging.
All the earmarks of a well-organized
heroin processing house. Get C.S.U. in here. Sweep the area.
If anyone saw anything, I want to know.
Looks like your Ahab found his white whale.
And it took him under.
Hi, dad. Bye, dad.
What, no kiss?
Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Alexis, what happened to your face? Nothing.
That's not nothing. What happened?
Lauren. She cornered me in the bathrooms at school,
said I ruined her party,
and then she accused me of hacking into her account
and deleting those pictures she took,
as if. And... and then what happened?
Well, I called her a backstabber,
and then she scratched me, so I...
You what? I punched her.
Ah. What were you thinking?
I don't know. This isn't me.
I don't crash parties. I don't get in fights with people.
I... but, dad, she made me so angry.
I know she did, but retaliation is not the answer.
You get her back, she gets you back,
and then one day, one of you ends up dead in a pizza oven.
Is that what you want? Look, the point is,
you're gonna have to deal with mean, backstabbing girls
your whole life.
You need to learn to be smart enough to rise above.
Okay?
Okay.
Come here.
Did you kick her ass?
I kinda did.
Good girl.
I should've gotten involved much earlier.
Why? Lauren would've still found a way
to make Alexis' life miserable.
Lauren isn't a criminal mastermind.
She's just a teenager. Ah, Castle,
never underestimate the power of a woman on a mission.
No, I don't. And I have the alimony checks to prove it.
Beckett, just hung up with the lab.
That trace heroin from the processing house?
It matches most of the dope being peddled on the lower east.
Any word on this Harley? Sir,
if half of the rumors about this guy are true,
then he's got snitches all over the force,
so I was thinking of holding off on an A.P.B. Until we knew more.
Keep me posted. Yes, sir.
You know, Shaw said that Cavallo
is using legitimate businesses to distribute product.
You think he could be operating out of one of the Nick's?
Yeah, but I can't get a warrant for a fishing expedition.
We're gonna have to have something more concrete. Yo.
C.S.U. Swept the tenement basement top to bottom,
there's not one print anywhere.
Any witnesses see Burns getting chased?
In that neighborhood, nobody sees nothing.
But one of our uniforms
did find this in a storm drain near the ATM.
Burns' phone? Does it strike anyone else as strange
that a seasoned war correspondent
would suddenly develop butterfingers,
drop his phone while being chased?
You think he purposefully dropped it?
So that whoever was chasing
him wouldn't get his phone? Or what was on it.
The last call he made was 9-1-1
and he didn't press send.
Outside the drug lab.
He was casing the joint.
That's Monica. She's involved.
Monica Wyatt, NYPD! Open up!
Aah! Monica!
Step back.
NYPD!
Monica.
He... he tried to kill me.
Window.
Let's go.
Monica, who did this to you? If I tell you, then I'm dead.
I think we're past that. Who did it?
Cavallo.
I wasn't lying before about Gordon.
We did date years ago, and I thought it was real,
but he was just doing it to get close to Cavallo.
I never imagined that...
What's a midtown real estate agent
doing mixed up with heroin dealers?
Their labs are mobile.
They need new places
for their processing centers every month or so, and I had
access to all the information that they needed.
Look... this is not who I am.
I mean, I never meant for anything... how did it start?
I had some problems
a few years back.
I owed some people money.
A man came to me
and he told me that he could make it all better.
I just... had to do a favor for him every now and then.
And at the time, that actually sounded harmless.
But this man knew things about me.
I mean things that nobody could possibly know.
And I wanted to leave,
but... after what happened to Gordon's kid, I just...
Gordon found me a couple of days ago.
He said he needed my help.
He said that I could end this, and that we both could be free.
All I had to do was take him there.
And now Gordon is dead,
and I am next.
Cavallo... who is he?
I've never seen him. Didn't he just try to kill you?
If I knew who Cavallo was,
don't you think I would've told Gordon?
I've only ever dealt with Cavallo's right-hand man before.
That's who was here trying to kill me. And who is this man?
His name is Harley.
Him?
Harley is Cavallo.
So Cavallo is hiding right under everyone's noses.
How do I find him? He finds me.
Monica, Gordon was right.
We can end this, but we need your help.
We believe that Cavallo is trafficking drugs
through a pizzeria, but we need to know which one.
I'm sorry. I don't know which one.
Yo. We covered the whole area.
Whoever he was, he's in the wind.
All right. Why don't you guys take Monica to the E.R.?
Get her checked, and then get her over to narcotics.
Let them talk to her. One last question...
Johnny Farrell and Swede Anderson?
That's how Gordon got on to this story in the first place.
He heard somebody at one of the pizza joints
using those names, and he knew it was Cavallo's code.
Those were last week's names. Do you know this week's names?
No, but Gordon said they were from his favorite film...
"The Maltese Falcon."
You're a sneak. What? I'm a what?
I don't care if these guys could've recognized you.
You hold 'em much longer,
there's gonna be another murder on our hands.
Relax. We're almost done.
We got two Nick's down, two to go.
Okay. Call you in a bit. I wonder if I should've used
Sydney Greenstreet's character... Kasper Gutman.
Now there's a guy who loved his pizza.
Well, we already put our money down on Bogie,
so let's just play this through.
Slice?
Uh, no, a pickup actually for Spade...
Sam Spade.
Of course, Mr. Spade.
We have your order right here.
Here you go, Mr. Spade.
We put it on your tab.
Thank you.
Winner, winner, pizza dinner.
Possession, trafficking,
conspiracy to distribute... that right there
is 30 years, easy, Sal...
30 terrific authentic years.
It's life if you're an accessory to Burns' murder.
No, I had nothing to do with that. I swear.
You swear? So what are you trying to tell me?
Are you trying to tell me that Harley had the idea
to put the body in your rival's oven? You're a pizza man, Sal.
Body in an oven sounds more like you're speed.
No. No, no, no, it was him. It was all him.
So what, now you're a victim?
Look, my place was struggling.
He came to me, he said the man that he worked for could help.
All I had to do was let him use my shop for a couple of months,
then he would make...
My dream come true.
Your dream?
Yeah, he said, uh, after it was over,
the man he worked for would, uh...
B-burn down authentic Nick's.
This ain't me.
I never even smoked a joint.
But all those other Nick's, the stuff they were doing,
it was driving me crazy. How did Burns' body get in the oven?
Harley called me that night,
said he needed to throw something in my oven overnight.
He didn't say what it was.
Yeah, but you knew it
wasn't a tray of lasagna. And I said no way.
No way. I never signed up for cremation services.
I never dreamed what I turned away
would end up in Ralph Carbone's oven.
You want our help, Sal?
You want me to put in a good word with the D.A.? Yeah.
Then help me find him.
Help me find Cavallo.
You can't find him.
He finds you.
That's not helping me, Sal. You don't get it.
When I run out of product, I call him.
He delivers.
Make the call.
Harley Romero, A.K.A., the legendary Cavallo.
He won't talk without a lawyer.
With the evidence from the ATM video
and Sal's testimony, he's gonna need one.
You know, it's brilliant when you think about it.
The unassuming middle man does all the dirty work
while everyone stays busy
looking for the menacing mythic overlord...
Who no one ever meets because he's not really real.
Well, real or not,
he's going away for a long time. Good work.
Narcotics is finished with Monica Wyatt.
She cooperated fully. Okay, process her out.
And put a patrol car outside her building
for the next few nights, just in case Cavallo has friends.
What's up?
I was just thinking about Burns, how close he came to catching
the guy who killed his daughter only to come up short.
Well, if it's any consolation, there's justice now.
Ahah you know what' still bugging me? - Hmm?
The guy is running for his life,
why does he ditch his phone?
Well he probably knew that he was gonna get killed,
and he wanted at least someone to know the truth. What truth?
It wasn't like there was a
picture of Cavallo on it. No, you're right.
The only person he had a picture of was...
Just a few more questions, Ms. Wyatt.
I have been waiting over an hour.
You know the funny thing about this case is that
nobody is who they claim to be, not even you.
Monica Wyatt... it says here
you moved to New York in 2002 from L.A.
Yeah, so?
So we did a little bit of digging,
and the only Monica Wyatt that we found
was a heroin addict who was shot point-blank
and then dumped in the L.A. river.
Six months later,
word of a new and brutal kingpin started sweeping the streets.
And you're saying that's me?
I'm a real estate agent. Have you seen my apartment?
Oh, yeah, we saw that one.
But all of the other ones can only be previewed online.
What are you talking about?
Your apartment sales to Walter Neff, Frank chambers,
Richard Harland... they're all characters from noir films.
They aren't real.
You made millions in heroin holdings,
which you turned into millions in real estate holdings,
all clean.
All the while,
perpetuating the myth of Cavallo.
Gordon didn't die chasing a myth.
Oh, yeah, Gordon.
Well, there's something that you didn't completely lie about.
You did meet him a couple of years ago,
but not as a boyfriend.
He was a pain-in-the-ass reporter
that just kept getting a little too close.
Until a car came out of nowhere
and killed his daughter.
That got him out of your hair for a couple of years,
but then he caught your scent again at Nick's pizza.
And that forced you to get rid of him permanently.
And then you fed us Harley, the sacrificial lamb,
to throw us off your trail.
Harley attacked me.
Oh, yeah, and then he managed to run down the fire escape
with such incredible speed
that two of New York's finest detectives
were incapable of seeing him, never mind catching him.
Beating yourself up...
Was a nice touch.
You know what I just realized?
All those noir films that Cavallo draws his names from,
they all have one thing in common...
a femme fatale.
I'd like my lawyer now.
Ah, great.
You're still up.
Couldn't sleep if I wanted to.
That makes two of us.
Is that from Stefano's? Mm-hmm.
You went all the way across the bridge for a pizza?
Not for just anyone.
Fresh basil and sausage.
Any updates on, uh...
Uh, um...
I called a mediation session
with our school counselor today.
And it turns out, Lauren was just jealous
of all the time I was spending with Ashley.
She thought I had ditched our friendship. So what'd you do?
We hugged it out.
And now you're friends again?
It's too soon to tell.
Hurts like these...
Take time to heal.
Time...
And pizza.
Ohh. Ooh, look at that.
Cheers.