Beautiful Woman: Sherlock, I thought you were coming right back to...oh, my God. Look at you. I didn't do any of that, did I?
Sherlock Holmes: No, no, no. You didn't leave a scratch.
Beautiful Woman: Well, the night is still young.
Holmes: I'll be right there.
Joan Watson: Hey. If I went downstairs to get a coffee, would I be...
Holmes: No, my guest left hours ago.
Watson: Oh. Good.
Holmes: Do I detect just a hint of judgment?
Watson: No, no judgment. A little concern, maybe.
Holmes: Well, despite what you may have heard, no one was injured. I am fighting off something of a head cold, though.
Watson: That's not what I meant. There have been a lot of guests this week, and I can't help but think that there might be more effective ways to work through everything that went down with Shinwell.
Holmes: Since everything went down with Shinwell, you've cleaned your office twice, you've taken three remedial cases, and then you cleaned your office again. So is that the picture of mental health I should aspire to?
Watson: Well, the Captain hasn't had anything you've deemed interesting this week, so I know myself. I like to keep busy. So working is working for me.
Holmes: We misjudged a murderer, we let him into our closest confidence. And then I betrayed our colleagues by destroying evidence that would have returned him to prison. And he repaid our many kindnesses by ambushing and severely beating me. You've made peace with all of that?
Watson: No, I've just come to accept that we don't have any options. There's no way to prove that Shinwell is a killer, so unless you want to go to SBK and out him as an informant...
Holmes: No, I'd still rather he wipe out a street gang than the other way around.
Watson: Okay, so we move on. I'm gonna go down to the precinct, see if I can lend a hand with whatever they're working on. You want to come?
Holmes: No. Perfunctory investigation will do me no good, Watson. To clean out the cobwebs, I need something truly stimulating.
Female Crematory Worker: First up, Mr. Gary Kalajian. Marco, did you pull a shift this weekend?
Male Crematory Worker: We were closed. Why?
Female Crematory Worker: When I closed on Friday, this cremator was clean. Oh, my God.
Male Crematory Worker: Call the police. Now.
Female Crematory Worker: What should I tell them?
Male Crematory Worker: Tell them somebody got burned alive here.
Dr. Eugene Hawes: It's a good thing femurs are as thick as they are. The biggest bones didn't burn down completely. It's the only way I could tell that there were two victims stuffed into the crematory furnace.
Watson: Looks like both were male.
Hawes: Good eye. You can tell by the width of the intertrochanteric crest.
Detective Bell: Whoever they were, one of them left a handprint just inside the incinerator door.
Hawes: It's over eight inches long. He was probably tall.
Holmes: And alive when he went into the incinerator. Here. Have a nightmare.
Bell: The blood was smeared and then cooked, so...
Watson: No fingerprints. I'm guessing you would have invited us to the scene if there was something to see.
Bell: Rear exit door was pried open with a crowbar. The break-in happened sometime over the weekend. The crematorium workers all have alibis, and we couldn't find anybody who works in the area who saw anything suspicious.
Watson: No security cameras?
Bell: The owner says they create privacy issues. We got nothing.
Hawes: Only if you don't count two piles of dust, teeth and bone fragments.
Watson: And whatever these are.
Hawes: Those were found at the back of the incinerator, near where the taller John Doe's feet were. I'm pretty sure they were an orthopedic brace that melted down. Uh, something like this.
Watson: We should check with Missing Persons, see if anyone's been reported who wears one.
Holmes: We should also start calling dentists in Dongan Hills. If I'm right about this, we need to locate the dental records of one Frederick Kirby, and see if we get a match for that gold tooth.
Bell: Are you saying you know one of these guys?
Holmes: After a fashion. Mr. Kirby was likely the worst private investigator in New York City.
Bell: Well, it's official. Captain just got the call. The gold incisor and a couple of the molars and the smaller pile of ash match Fred Kirby's dental records. Which means it took you all of ten minutes to identify a John Doe who'd been burnt to powder. That's got to be a record.
Holmes: No, it was nothing. How many men do you know proudly wear a high school class ring?
Watson: Uh, you never told us how you knew him.
Holmes: He came by the Brownstone once, accused me of poaching.
Bell: You stole one of his clients?
Holmes: No, I was cornered by a dissatisfied customer of his. I took one look at Mr. Kirby's files, solved the case on the spot. I've never seen such shoddy detective work. This place is a temple of incompetence.
Bell: According to the Captain, this guy's one employee is missing, too. The name's Lamont Wallace, but he goes by "Pinky." Started driving for Fred a couple years ago when Fred's eyes started to go.
Holmes: A legally blind private eye. No comment.
Bell: No one's been able to get either of them on the phone for two days.
Watson: Well, Lamont's a big guy. Could have been his handprint in the incinerator.
Bell: Yeah, maybe he and Fred took on a dangerous case that got them both killed. You got something?
Watson: There's almost a dozen restraining orders here.
Bell: These are all filed within days of each other.
Watson: Yeah, none of the complainants have the same last name, but it's got to be a coordinated effort, right?
Bell: You'd think. Question is, what's the link between these people?
Holmes: Tragedy.
Holmes: I assume you're familiar with the shooting spree that occurred at the Bennett Courthouse in 1987?
Captain Gregson: Guy shoots a bunch of brand-new citizens after a swearing-in ceremony. His wife was their civics teacher, right?
Holmes: Four people dead, six more wounded, and the shooter ended up taking his own life.
Gregson: It was a tragedy, not a mystery. So what's it got to do with a detective and his buddy getting burnt alive 30 years later?
Holmes: In Fred Kirby's office, we found multiple restraining orders against him. All of them were filed by family members of the victims of the courthouse shooting. It appears that Mr. Kirby reached out to anyone tangentially associated with the shooting. To what end, we don't know.
Gregson: You talk to any of these people yet?
Holmes: No. Watson's on her way to speak to Virginia Spivey. She was married to the hero bailiff who charged the gunman. Took a bullet that day, but survived. Unfortunately, he died of lymphoma last year.
Gregson: Virginia Spivey was the first one to file. You think papering him with Orders of Protection was her idea?
Holmes: That's the hope. If she was in touch with all of these people, perhaps she'll be able to tell us if any of them would have been likely to have cremated Fred Kirby and his helper. In the meantime, Marcus and I are going to visit the Bennett Courthouse.
Gregson: Why? The shooting happened decades ago. What do you think you're gonna find?
Holmes: This was in Fred's office.
Gregson: Court employee badge.
Holmes: It's a sloppy forgery. I'm going to chalk up the alias to his overheated sense of whimsy. But I would like to know why he deemed it necessary to go undercover at the courthouse.
Louis Garmendia: Mr. Holmes. Louis Garmendia. I wish it wasn't such a sad occasion that we got together. But it is an honor to finally meet you.
Holmes: You know me?
Garmendia: Of course. I'm Louis Garmendia. President of the New York Order of Private Investigators.
Holmes: Oh, the silver star people, NYOOPI.
Garmendia: Yeah, that's us.
Holmes: So, are you responsible for their uh, rise in prominence?
Garmendia: Well, I don't know if I can really take credit for that. I just took over. But that is how I knew Fred. And, obviously, we're all broken up over what happened to him.
Holmes: Mmm.
Garmendia: Anyway, as president, I just wanted to come down and let you know you've got the association's full support. Anything you or the department needs, you say the word.
Holmes: All right, well, I'll be sure to pass that along.
Garmendia: Main reason I came down is to say thank you. Means a lot to have one of our own working this thing for Fred.
Holmes: Sorry, one of your own?
Garmendia: NYOOPI members. You and your partner. Feels right keeping it in the family.
Holmes: Remind me, how long have we been in the family?
Watson: So, Houston, you were a pitcher?
Josh: He still is. Lowest ERA in Division II. You know St. Cassius College? You should come see us play sometime.
Houston Spivey: Did you not hear her tell my mom she's with the police?
Josh: What, police don't like baseball?
Virginia Spivey: All right guys, that's the rest.
Houston: Everything's okay, right?
Watson: Everything's fine. I'm just here to talk.
Virginia: You two drive safe.
Josh: Thanks, Mrs. Spivey. Very nice meeting you.
Virginia: Sorry about that. But you said you wanted to talk about the courthouse shooting, and it seemed like I should get the boys on their way first.
Watson: Of course. I was just wondering about some of the contact you might have had recently with the other victims' families.
Virginia: I've had a lot, actually. More than usual. The 30th anniversary was last month, and, uh, well, you can probably tell I like remembrances. We raised a little money and did a memorial exhibit at the courthouse. Something to make sure the people who died aren't forgotten. Well, here. I was I was gonna frame this.
Watson: Looks like you did some great work.
Virginia: I wanted to do it years ago, but Gordon, my husband, he wouldn't have it. He passed away last year, so now he can't object to being remembered as a hero. Which he was. If he hadn't charged the shooter, well, let's just say that would've been a much bigger memorial.
Watson: Am I correct that you and some of the other families filed restraining orders against a man named Fred Kirby?
Virginia: Yeah. He was bothering all of us. Said he was trying to put together his own exhibit, or something. His story kept changing. It was weird, so I got a lawyer to shut him down. And I told the others to do the same. Is that why you're here? Has he done something illegal?
Watson: He died this past weekend. Uh, more specifically, he was murdered.
Virginia: Oh, my God. You think one of us...?
Watson: I'm just curious. Is it possible that any of the people he was harassing might've been angry enough to...
Virginia: Uh, no. No, not a chance. He wasn't harassing anyone, he just wanted stuff that belonged to the victims. We think he was a collector, or maybe a dealer.
Watson: A dealer?
Virginia: You ever heard the term "murderabilia"? People buy and sell, I guess you'd call them artifacts that connect back to famous murders or tragedies. It's pretty sick. We just thought Fred was trying to make a buck. He should've been ashamed of himself. But trust me. None of us would've killed the guy.
Watson: Hey. I'm home.
Holmes: What do you think?
Watson: I think there's a bus bench with my picture on it in the library.
Holmes: I used Fred Kirby's guy. It was a rush job, so it wasn't cheap, but he threw in the bench for free.
Watson: So are you gonna tell me what this is about, or?
Holmes: NYOOPI. N-Y-O-O-P-I, the absurd acronym for an even more absurd organization, one which counts us both as members in good standing.
Watson: Oh, yeah. The detective thing.
Holmes: Yeah, "the detective thing."
Watson: I don't get it. Are you angry because I signed us up?
Holmes: So you don't deny it.
Watson: Yeah, it was years ago. You'd gone back to London. When you came back, I added you. It's free advertising. They put us on the "Find a Detective" page on their Web site.
Holmes: That is precisely the problem. I do not care for the association.
Watson: Why?
Holmes: Because the group is a sham. They've completely usurped the New York State Division of Licensing Services and destroyed all semblance of standards in our profession.
Watson: What are you talking about?
Holmes: Once upon a time, every aspiring P.I. had to take an exam administered by the state. It wasn't terribly difficult, but it was something. It was a barrier to entry to keep the riffraff out. Now Internet searches have become the primary arbiter of legitimacy in every profession. So this, this star is all you need to be a detective in New York. For $278 in annual fees, anyone can advertise using this, and gain access to NYOOPI's all-important Web site. So here, have your pick. Disgraced FBI agents, idiots off the street, me. We are all equal in the eyes of this group.
Watson: You're being a snob.
Holmes: Someone has to be.
Watson: Did you get my text earlier, about why Fred Kirby might have been harassing Virginia Spivey and the others?
Holmes: I did.
Watson: Well, I spent the afternoon online, looking at murderabilia auctions. I didn't see anything there on the Bennett Courthouse shooting. So I also looked at Kirby's financials. It didn't look like he ever sold that kind of stuff, so it makes me wonder why he was so interested in what happened.
Holmes: It's a good question. I might be able to shed some light.
Holmes: In 1987, when new citizens were sworn in at the Bennett Courthouse, it was customary to give them pocket-sized copies of the Constitution. These were on display at Ms. Spivey's memorial. I borrowed them, along with this photograph of the victims taken shortly before the shooting started. Now, this is photograph was taken when the memorial first opened last month. Notice the blood color and patterns on these Constitutions.
Watson: These are different.
Holmes: Mmm. The blood that you're looking at is fake. These are reproductions. They are also laden with Fred Kirby's fingerprints.
Watson: So he swapped these Constitutions out for the real ones, he got his murderabilia after all.
Holmes: Yes, but perhaps not to sell.
Watson: What do you mean?
Holmes: I mean, it's possible Fred Kirby did what he did because he believed the U.S. government once caused a nuclear reactor to melt down. Just as it's possible that testing his theory resulted in his murder.
Watson: What are you talking about?
Holmes: I'm talking, Watson, about Chernobyl.
Holmes: On April 26, 1986, a test of the Chernobyl power plant's safety system went awry, causing one of its nuclear reactors to explode.
Watson: I remember. Everyone remembers. The blast and the radiation exposure killed dozens that day. Eventually, thousands more died of cancer.
Holmes: Human error was cited as the precipitating cause. The official report did not name any names. But according to one theory on the Internet, the fault lies with four men. Igor Krasnaia, Roman Hubenko, Dmitry Perov and Sergei Minkovski. Their bodies were never recovered, and photographs of the men do not exist.
Watson: Okay.
Holmes: Conspiracy theorists have long believed that these men were saboteurs, working at the behest of the American government. In return for their crimes, they were granted new lives in the United States.
Watson: Those were the four men that were killed in the Bennett Courthouse shooting? That's what people think?
Holmes: I did not say "people." I said "conspiracy theorists." Proud members of the tinfoil hat brigade. Now, this was the shooter, his name is Ronald Jones. His victims had just taken the oath of citizenship. They were Chris Corwin, Nick Welden, Pete Goswin and Leo Stavo. But some people believe that these were aliases given to them by the American government before a rogue agent wiped them out.
Watson: You don't really believe that, right?
Holmes: No. But it doesn't matter what I believe. The question is, did Fred Kirby believe it? History is full of imbeciles whose outlandish theories have got them killed, so perhaps he shared his with one of the victims' loved ones, and they took it poorly.
Watson: Well, talking to loved ones is one thing. Fred Kirby was trying to get his hands on the victims' personal effects. He stole mini-Constitutions with their blood on it. Why?
Holmes: If these men really were nuclear saboteurs, then their DNA would've been damaged. Traces of caesium-137 would mark their remains for hundreds of years. The question of where a low-rent private eye would go to test for such a thing is another matter entirely.
Watson: No, it isn't. I think I might know where he would go.
Mr. Drexel: Yeah, I knew Fred. He's in my bowling league. We're friends. He's dead, huh?
Holmes: Fred specialized in cheating spouses, the kind who leave stains in cheap motel rooms. I imagine, occasionally, he needed you to run a DNA sample for him.
Watson: When I went through Fred's financials yesterday, I noticed he wrote quite a few checks to you over the years. Just you. Never to East Rutherford Laboratories. You were giving him a discount and pocketing the payments yourself.
Drexel: No, that's not true.
Watson: We also went through Fred's phone records yesterday. He talked to you six times last week. Can we assume it was about the blood samples he wanted you to gather from the copies of the Constitution?
Drexel: Hey, what are you doing?
Holmes: Mr. Drexel, we didn't bring the police with us because we don't care about your minor league embezzlement. We don't. It was a courtesy to you, but it also works in our favor, 'cause it means we can conduct an illegal search for the materials that Fred gave you.
Watson: Yeah, I'll start over here.
Drexel: No, don't. I'll give you everything I've got, okay? The samples, the results, all of it.
Watson: He wasn't checking for radioactivity, he was running paternity tests.
Drexel: Radioactivity? Why the hell would I be looking for that?
Holmes: Fred didn't think that the men who bled on these documents were at Chernobyl?
Drexel: No. God, no. He gave me that blood sample and the four Constitutions. He asked me to look for a match.
Watson: Who's C. Gibson?
Drexel: I don't have any idea. I just know the guy was looking for his father. But the blood on those things wasn't viable. All the results came back inconclusive. If you want to harass someone, you should go find him.
Watson: Why's that?
Drexel: Fred was nervous about breaking the news to him. Said the guy had a real temper. I don't know. Maybe he's the one who killed Fred.
Watson: This would be a lot easier if Fred's Kirby's system wasn't put stuff in files or don't.
Holmes: Well, credit the man for consistency. He was lazy and inept in all facets of his business.
Watson: Still, C. Gibson's full name's got to be in here somewhere here, right?
Holmes: Yes, finally.
Watson: You found it?
Holmes: Better. I found years of annual reports of Fred Kirby's time on the board of NYOOPI.
Watson: Why would you want that?
Holmes: Because I hope to find evidence of embezzlement or fraud. Let's see how many people pay for that preposterous silver star when it becomes a mark of corruption.
Watson: NYOOPI helps people find detectives. Why do you have a problem with that?
Holmes: Because I want people to be able to find detectives who've earned the right to be called detectives.
Watson: Well, if it were up to you, there'd only be four or five people like that in the whole world.
Holmes: Your point?
Watson: If NYOOPI offends you so much, why don't you just quit?
Holmes: Because then I won't be able to pull it apart, piece by piece, from the inside.
Watson: Has it ever occurred to you that all this righteous indignation has less to do with a bunch of private eyes supporting each other, and more to do with Shinwell? What happened upset you. And despite a string of meaningless sexual conquests, you're still upset, so now you're gonna take it out on a bunch of less talented detectives.
Holmes: My motives are irrelevant. NYOOPI is the lowest form of fake credentialism and it ought not to exist. And by the time I'm finished, it won't.
Watson: Where are you going?
Holmes: The "C" in C. Gibson stood for Carter. I found his name and address ten minutes ago. I just lingered to look for these.
Bell: Here's your tea. Two lumps. Now you got to tell me what's up.
Watson: Thanks. So, our victims, Fred Kirby and the missing driver, were working for a man named Carter Gibson. Now, I could not find a link between that name and the Bennett Courthouse shooting, but that's because Gibson's name is made-up. See? Carter Gibson was Carter Dunwitty until he changed his name in 2007.
Bell: Rita Dunwitty was one of the survivors of the shooting in '87.
Holmes: More than that, she was married to the shooter, Ronald Jones.
Bell: Right. So, he was Carter's father.
Watson: As far as the world knew, yes, but Carter was convinced that Ronald Jones, the shooter, was not his father. So, he hired Fred Kirby to run paternity tests for the four men who were killed in '87, but none of them panned out.
Bell: Sounds like wishful thinking, right? I mean, this is a guy who changes his name to climb out of his family tree.
Watson: Can you blame him?
Bell: Looks like Carter has some problems of his own. Disorderly conduct and resisting, misdemeanor assault. It's a nickel-and-dime sheet, but he obviously has a violent streak.
Watson: Well, if Carter Gibson is Ronald Jones's son, he may just be a chip off the crazy old block.
Bell: I wonder how Carter took the news when Fred Kirby couldn't identify the dad he was hoping for.
Watson: Well, you're not the first person to wonder that. Sherlock and the Captain took a couple of uniforms over to his house. Actually, they say they need us over there right away.
Bell: Quite a mess.
Gregson: We knocked. No one answered. Building manager let us in. Got a pile of mail, trash is ripe, doesn't look like Carter Gibson's been home in days.
Bell: Let me guess, we're thinking he got into some kind of scrap with Fred Kirby and Pinky Wallace right here. Carter won, he cremated them, went on the run.
Gregson: I just put his photo out to everyone in the field.
Holmes: Captain, if you would. We need to revise our theory of the crime that occurred in the next room. I don't think Carter Gibson was the perpetrator, after all.
Gregson: What am I missing?
Watson: Metal rods were mixed in with the cremains in the incinerator.
Holmes: They're identical to the ones in this orthopedic brace. Gibson had a gammy foot. You can see in that photograph over there. Now, one could argue that he threw one of his braces into the incinerator to trick us, to make us think that he was dead, but if he did that, why wouldn't he throw in that watch, as well? It's inscribed with his original name on the back. And if he's a man on the run, why didn't he take his medication with him?
Watson: So, the second Vic was Pinky Wallace. We thought it was him because he was tall.
Bell: But this is size 14, and according to Carter's sheet, he's six-three. You think half the blood out there is his?
Holmes: Just as I think that's his handprint in the incinerator. I think he was the one who was burned alive.
Watson: You guys find something?
Gregson: Killer left some partial footprints. They stop right here, so you got to figure this is where he loaded Fred Kirby and Carter Gibson's bodies into a vehicle.
Watson: Pinky Wallace, Fred Kirby's driver, disappeared around the same time that Fred did. So, he might be our guy, right?
Gregson: Well, you'd think so, only he isn't. Finest Message on him checked out while you were talking to the neighbor.
Watson: Is he dead, too?
Bell: No, but he came close. He's been in the ICU at St. Bede's for a week. Checked himself in with a 104-degree fever. He was delirious. Told the nurses his name was Lando Calrissian. That's why we couldn't find him. He's got a long recovery from meningitis ahead of him, but no prison time.
Gregson: How'd it go on your end?
Watson: Not great. The night that Fred Kirby disappeared, nobody saw anything. So, a few people heard a loud bang around midnight. So, whatever happened here, maybe they finished it with a gun.
Gregson: Anybody find any slugs or casings?
Holmes: No, and they won't. I can't explain your bang, but this was no shooting. As you can see from the blood splatter on the walls and the ceiling, it's not the misty spray that you'd associate with a gunshot. The droplets are round. They vary in size. The killer used a blunt object. Uh, I think I might even know which one. As you can see here, Carter Gibson has twice been honored by the New York Charcot-Marie-Tooth Coalition. Recipients of the Connecting My Talents Award receive a commemorative marble orb.
Bell: What's a tooth coalition?
Holmes: Tooth is a surname, as are Charcot and Marie. They're the doctors who first described the neurological disorder which is now more commonly known as CMT.
Watson: CMT attacks the peripheral nervous system, arms, legs, hands and feet. It's degenerative and the symptoms get worse over time. Now, if Carter Gibson had it, it would explain the orthopedic braces and probably the medications he was taking.
Gregson: So, Carter raised money and awareness for his disease and the coalition gave him one of those.
Holmes: They gave him two. These photographs tell us that he received the award in 2013 and 2015. The older one is missing.
Bell: And you think it's because the killer took it with him after he used it to bash two skulls in? He grabbed it there and started swinging?
Holmes: The blood evidence would indicate that. An arcing motion like this would result in blood splatter like that.
Watson: So, now we know how the mess was made, but who made it?
Gregson: How's it going?
Watson: Slowly, but we think we figured out the real reason that Carter Gibson was looking for his biological father.
Bell: I just got off the phone with Leonard Jones, Ronald Jones's father. I was calling to notify him that we think his grandson, Carter, was the victim of a homicide. He didn't take it too hard. Apparently, they'd been estranged most of Carter's life.
Watson: That changed earlier this year. Carter's CMT was getting worse. The disease is inherited and the symptoms tend to follow a similar course within families. Now, no one on his mother's side had it, so Carter reached out to his paternal grandfather to find out what he could expect.
Bell: Thing is, there was no CMT on that side of the family, either.
Gregson: How is that possible?
Bell: 30 years ago, no one really knew why Ronald Jones shot up the courthouse where his wife worked, but Grandpa Leonard always had a sneaking suspicion.
Gregson: Ronald had figured out he wasn't Carter's real dad.
Bell: That would explain some things, like why the four people he killed and the six he wounded were all men.
Gregson: He thought one of them was sleeping with his wife.
Bell: It's an old secret, but maybe someone figured it was still worth killing over.
Watson: We were just about to call the relatives of the people who filed restraining orders against Fred Kirby, see if any of them had CMT.
Gregson: Just tread lightly. If one of them did this, we don't want to tip them.
Holmes: Mr. Garmendia.
Garmendia: Sorry to stop by unannounced like this, but your address is in our files.
Holmes: If you're looking for an update on the investigation of Fred Kirby's murder, I'm afraid I can't help you. There have been some developments, but they need to remain confidential.
Garmendia: I don't want an update. I'm here to talk to you, detective to detective. I know you broke into NYOOPI's computer today. Someone used Fred Kirby's old log-in from an I.P. address inside the NYPD, and then they downloaded a bunch of our tax records. I could tell you didn't like us when we met. Got the feeling we embarrass you. You want to tell me what you're up to?
Holmes: It's quite simple, really. I'm going to dismantle your organization. NYOOPI is a blight on the profession which I love. It enables con men and imbeciles to pass themselves off as detectives. Your group deserves to be exposed as the rubber stamp that it is.
Garmendia: Would it surprise you to know that I agree with you about NYOOPI? Hmm? I was an investigator for the ATF for over 15 years before I went private. I get steamed when I see the kind of folks that are advertising with our silver star. That's why I got involved, only I don't want to destroy it. I want to turn it around. We're offering training seminars now. We just launched a message board where people can crowd source their cases. I want NYOOPI to help its members be better at what they do.
Holmes: Your members want to be better?
Garmendia: A lot of them mean well.
Holmes: That's not what I asked. How many of them are attending your classes? How many are on the message board?
Garmendia: All I'm asking for is a little more time.
Holmes: NYOOPI's had decades.
Garmendia: Not with me they haven't. Look, Mr. Holmes, this, this thing we do, this job, it's important. Now, you say you don't like a lot of our membership. I get that, but at least they're in one place now. NYOOPI goes away, and they scatter in the wind. And I won't know if I could've made them better. I won't know if I could've kept a few from getting killed. Now, it's too late for Fred Kirby, but it's not too late for the rest.
Holmes: All I can promise you is that your organization will be spared my full energies until I have solved Fred Kirby's murder.
Garmendia: Well, I know how good you are, so I guess that doesn't give me much time. Thanks for hearing me out.
Watson: Sherlock?
Holmes: In your bedroom. Hello.
Watson: Okay, whatever this is, does it really need to be happening in my bedroom?
Holmes: This is helping me determine how much force was used to beat Carter Gibson and Fred Kirby to death. I didn't think you'd mind.
Watson: Okay, so, you've already made one miscalculation. So, how is the rest of your math going?
Holmes: Take this. Yeah. That spatter pattern I've painted in black there, how far is it from Mr. Coconut?
Watson: 17 feet, seven inches.
Holmes: That is precisely the distance that blood and viscera traveled from the bookcase to the far wall at the murder scene in Carter Gibson's apartment.
Watson: Okay, so why did you think to check that?
Holmes: Because it is one of the most distant blood spatters I've ever encountered. So distant, in fact, that efforts to recreate it with my own arms have fallen decidedly short.
Watson: Maybe you need a stronger arm.
Holmes: Between an adolescence spent at the cricket ground and two decades training in the combat arts, my arm strength is a little above average. Now, this tropical drupe is filled with a synthetic blood of my own design. And I'm gonna murder it with a candlepin bowling ball, which is almost identical in size and weight to the marble award that was used.
Watson: Not even close.
Holmes: My best effort, when my arms were still fresh, created a blood spatter which reached 14.3 feet.
Watson: Okay, so our killer is a contestant in the world's strongest man?
Holmes: Not quite. This experiment has shown that creating that pattern requires power and form. The force and motion required to create the spatter pattern at Carter Gibson's apartment are commensurate with throwing a 98 mile-an-hour fastball.
Watson: That's major league heat.
Holmes: Yeah, which is precisely why our killer is on the verge of making major league millions. You told me about him the other day.
Houston: You think I look like this Carter guy?
Watson: A little. You both have your father's ears.
Bell: Your Dad had an affair with Rita Dunwitty. Carter's mom. He was your half-brother. Now, you can deny it if you want, but we're gonna order a DNA test to confirm.
Houston: I don't believe anything you're saying. But, if it's true, so what?
Bell: It's why you killed him. Along with the detective he hired to find his real father.
Watson: Carter grew up thinking that his father was a mass shooter. It followed him around like a dark cloud. We think that Fred Kirby uncovered evidence of the affair. Now, if we're right, and Carter could prove that his real father was actually the hero who stopped the shooting, he probably couldn't wait to tell the world.
Bell: That was gonna be a real problem for you, wasn't it?
Houston: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Watson: We're talking about CMT.
Houston: What?
Watson: Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease. It's a genetic neuromuscular disorder. Carter had it. And given that it's passed down paternally, we're guessing that you do, too.
Bell: You knew that if anyone discovered you had it, your plans of making millions as a major league pitcher would be wiped out.
Watson: Uh, we can't imagine a team offering a big contract to someone who could wake up one morning and suddenly lose all feeling in his throwing arm.
Bell: If a well-known CM advocate like Carter shared the news about finding his real family, say if he put it out on social media, it would've been a matter of time before someone put two and two together.
Watson: Now, you needed the whole thing to go away so you could still cash in.
Houston: You guys are crazy. Forget CMT, look at my ERA. I'm pitching great, I, I don't have a muscle disorder.
Bell: All right, then, let's talk about something you definitely don't have. An alibi for the night of the murders. That's because you were at Carter's apartment. He and Fred were telling you things you didn't want to hear, so you took Carter's award down from the shelf, and you killed them with it. Only a matter of time until we find it. Got to think it'll have your fingerprints on it when we do.
Gregson: I need you two. Now.
Bell: What's going on? He was about to give it up.
Gregson: Well, that would've been a real problem for the D.A.
Watson: How so?
Gregson: That's Paul Fontino. He's Houston's pitching coach. He just confessed to both murders.
Bell: Sorry about the wait, Mr. Fontino. We just had to confirm there really were bloodstains in the trunk of your car.
Paul Fontino: Don't know why you'd think I'd lie about such a thing.
Bell: Maybe because we can't quite figure out why you would do such a thing. You've had two parking tickets in the last 20 years. But this past weekend, you just snap? Murder two people?
Fontino: I've been working with Houston Spivey for six years. Found him when he was a skinny little high school sophomore. He's a good kid. He's got a hell of a future. I didn't want to see it wasted.
Watson: What does that mean?
Fontino: Last week, he tells me this Carter guy and his crazy P.I., they're after him for a blood test.
Watson: Well, he told us he'd never seen Carter Gibson before in his life.
Fontino: You ever been 21 years old before? Kid's scared. I mean, if you think Houston asked me to do this, you got the wrong idea. He wanted to pay them. He asked me for the money.
Bell: What money?
Fontino: They were extorting him, they wanted $50,000 to keep quiet.
Bell: And they thought Houston, a college student, would have 50 grand lying around?
Fontino: I'm sure they figured that a future first rounder would be able to get his hands on some money if he really wanted it. He probably could've. But I didn't think it was right. I told Houston I'd handle it.
Bell: So you set up a meeting?
Fontino: At Carter's apartment. I thought I'd rant and rave a little and get them to back off. But they weren't budging. I saw red, grabbed this marble statue thing off from the shelf that was that.
Holmes: Well, he's lying obviously. I mean, it's a tale as old as time. Or at least as old as professional sports. The sins of the entitled athlete being swept under the rug by his enablers. I'm sure Mr. Fontino's family will be enjoying the blood money he's earning as soon as Houston Spivey's name is called in the draft.
Watson: Well, the lab says the blood in Fontino's trunk was a match for the victims. And he knew about the murder weapon.
Holmes: He knew about it, couldn't produce it though, could he?
Watson: He said he threw it off the Staten Island Ferry.
Watson: Yeah, another lie, no doubt. Look, I'll concede that he was an accessory after the fact. I don't think there's any coincidence that the bodies were disposed of at his cousin's crematorium, but I refuse to believe he's our killer.
Watson: Then should've come with me to the precinct instead of trying to dig up more dirt on NYOOPI.
Holmes: Yes, I should have. Found what I need, though.
Watson: What do you mean?
Holmes: I mean, this time tomorrow, NYOOPI will be no more.
Watson: For what it's worth, Fontino was a college pitcher.
Holmes: Yes, he was. That was 45 years ago. Now he's a retiree with a herniated disc and arthritis in both hands. I mean, he'd have trouble lifting the murder weapon above his head, let alone swinging it hard enough to send blood flying across the room.
Watson: That was the sound.
Holmes: What?
Watson: A bang. Carter's neighbors said they heard a noise that night, a bang.
Gregson: Thanks for coming in, Mr. Spivey.
Houston: I don't understand why I'm here again. When I gave my statement about Coach Fontino, my lawyer said that would be it.
Watson: He's right, you don't have to say anything today. I'm just curious um, do you know what the worst pitch you ever threw was?
Houston: Uh, gave up a two-run double in the playoffs last year. Hung a curve.
Watson: Actually, it was when you flung the murder weapon from the scene of the double homicide you committed.
Bell: Two of Carter Gibson's neighbors heard a bang like that the night he and Fred Kirby were killed. They thought it was a car backfiring. We wondered if maybe it was a gunshot. Turns out, it was the sound of a perfect strike.
Gregson: You left tracks at the scene. Bloody footprints from Carter's door to your coach's car. Stood to reason you took the murder weapon along with the bodies.
Bell: Only you didn't. You threw it 245 feet into that Dumpster.
Watson: It's pretty impressive. But like I said, it was the worst pitch of your life. The blood of both victims and your fingerprints are all over it.
Gregson: What happened? Did you think you heard someone coming? You panicked, threw it as far as you could?
Houston: I'd like my lawyer now, please.
Watson: Sherlock? Is that why you called me down here, to troll me again for enrolling us in NYOOPI?
Holmes: Gonna mark you down a point for poor observational skills. Look more closely.
Watson: "ESOOPI"?
Holmes: I spoke to NYOOPI President Louis Garmendia this morning. He has agreed to shutter the organization, as I predicted he would. But, like a phoenix rising from the dung heap, a new trade organization has been born to take its place. ESOOPI. The Empire State Order of Private Investigators. All members of the former NYOOPI will be allowed to stay on. And Mr. Garmendia will be retaining his position as president.
Watson: Is that what you meant when you said NYOOPI would be no more? So what's the point? Now there's a group that's gonna be handing out gold stars instead of silver ones?
Holmes: No. Nothing will be handed out. Gold stars and a listing on the group's all-important Web site will be earned by members who complete a course of my own design. It's compulsory, not optional.
Watson: You really think 1,200 dues-paying members are gonna sit still for that?
Holmes: I don't believe they're gonna have a choice. I spent all of yesterday poring over the bylaws that they agreed to when they joined. NYOOPI is more than allowed to change its name and its standards. And any members that don't appreciate that kind of attention to detail will learn to. Or they'll forfeit their membership.
Watson: Is that...?
Holmes: The test, yes. I thought you would be honored to be the first ESOOPI member to attempt it.
Watson: "List three suitable methods for determining the age of a fecal deposit on a..." This is the first question?
Holmes: Two hours, Watson. Make me proud.