|This page is a transcript for the Season Four episode Who Is That Masked Man?.|
Soleil: Hey, it's okay, Frosty.
Joan Watson: Hi, I'm so sorry to bother you, but my car broke down up the road and my phone died.
Soleil: Oh, Mon Dieu. Of all the nights.
Watson: I know. Feel like an idiot. Do you think I could use your phone to call my friend to come and pick me up?
Soleil: Uh, of course. Come in.
Watson: Thank you. You're a lifesaver. Oh. You're so cute.
Soleil: Oh, this is Frosty. I'm Soleil.
Watson: I'm uh, I'm Nicolette.
Soleil: Uh, here. The phone is in the study.
Watson: Uh, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?
Soleil: Only "The Creature from the Black Lagoon." My favorite show got preempted by hockey. Uh, you want a cup of tea?
Watson: Oh. That's so nice, thank you. Yeah.
Soleil: Keep warm!
Watson: Thanks so much.
Sherlock Holmes: "Nicolette"?
Watson: Everyone within 100 miles of Montreal has a sexy French name. Would've been suspicious if I didn't. What'd you find?
Sherlock: Soleil is a dutiful daughter. She's kept her mother's letters, her will and some other mementos. Hopefully, the answers lie within. If not, I shall resort to a seance to interrogate Sabine Raoult.
Watson: You can't be that sure that your father's girlfriend set him up. She died in the attack.
Sherlock: Well, perhaps that's a convenient outcome for whoever commissioned the crime.
Ray Mui (in Chinese): Don't kill me! Don't kill me!
Sherlock: Excuse me, excuse me. Thank you, sorry. Thank you. That's quite an audience today. If it wasn't for the lack of paparazzi, I'd assume a reality TV star got vivisected.
Captain Gregson: Three Chinese gangsters got shotgunned.
Sherlock: So less fun.
Gregson: These folks are nervous. They're worried this could be the beginning of a gang war.
Watson: What do you think?
Gregson: I'd have a better idea if I knew what he was thinking. That's Meng Zhou, in the hat over there. He's the head of the Snake Eye Boys. Second largest Triad in the city. It's his guys on the ground in there.
Sherlock: And who is Mr. Meng likely to blame?
Gregson: Ghost Mountain. Another Triad, just came to the States. They control a few blocks near Columbus Park. Beat cops say there's been some friction. We were afraid of something like this.
Gregson: The arcade is co-owned by the three victims. Their rap sheets are all over the map. When they weren't scamming credit cards and insurance companies, they were running illegal drugs and protection rackets.
Watson: Sound like big earners.
Gregson: Yeah. That's why retribution will probably be fast and bloody. We need to make a collar on this ASAP, or this whole neighborhood could blow up.
Sherlock: So I count three blood spatters, two victims, one knife.
Gregson: The last guy managed to get his switchblade out. We think he got winged, made it around the corner before the killer caught up with him.
Watson: I take it there were no witnesses?
Gregson: Uh, we canvassed, talked to a few people who heard shots, looked out their windows. One couple saw a jogger. Someone else saw a little old woman hightailing it away from the gunfire. That's it.
Watson: Well, there are no surveillance cameras. That's not surprising, considering what this place was used for. Is this MDMA?
Gregson: That's $25,000 worth. They kept their stash in a safe behind the counter.
Watson: So the killer couldn't break the lock?
Gregson: I don't think he touched it. Whatever this was, it wasn't a robbery.
Sherlock: Uh, I think it might have been a betrayal. Ambush by an ally.
Gregson: What makes you say that?
Sherlock: There's sodium bicarbonate here, lying in a pool of dried expectoration. The killer put a fizzy pain reliever in his mouth to fake a seizure. To lure the victims to his aid. They opened up, he opened fire.
Watson: They couldn't have been fooled by a stranger?
Sherlock: This man put a 9 and a 1 in his phone just before he was shot. I don't think he would've brought the police and the paramedics to his drug-slinging pit if it wasn't for someone he personally cared for.
Watson: So the trigger man was probably a Snake Eye, same as the victims. So he switched allegiances and now he's working with Ghost Mountain?
Gregson: Hard theory to test. Like I said, Ghost Mountain's new. We don't have anyone plugged into their drama.
Sherlock: There are other ways to ascertain whether Ghost Mountain has cultivated a double agent in their enemy's organization.
Watson: Mr. Xi, we are consultants with the NYPD. Do you have a minute?
Xi Hai Ching: Who are you looking for?
Sherlock: You. Xi Hai Ching. The so-called 489 of the Ghost Mountain Triad. Everyone on this block pays you protection, Mr. Xi, there's no sense denying it.
Xi: I do deny it. There's no one here named Xi.
Watson: The department has been keeping an eye on you since June. We may not have all the information we want about you, but we do know your name.
Sherlock: Three members of the Snake Eye Boys were ambushed at an arcade last night. We suspect you paid one of their fellows to double-cross them.
Xi: I am not leader of Ghost Mountain. I never hear of Ghost Mountain. I only speak for myself.
Sherlock: Well, you'd be wise to do so, 'cause as we see it, no one stood to benefit more from the carnage at Mott Street than you.
Watson: We know from your file you're very hands-on. Maybe you watched the whole thing go down last night?
Xi: I was with a woman friend last night. Her husband is out of town. She's married, so she won't be able to back up your story.
Xi: She won't have to. She got a call from hospital. Her nephew. He was beaten and mugged. We went there to be with him.
Watson: Which one?
Xi: St. Bede's. Go there. Ask them if you don't believe me. This is a dangerous neighborhood. The police cannot keep us safe. If people have to pay for protection, maybe you should blame yourself.
Watson: I'll check his alibi while you comb through his cell phone.
Sherlock: You saw that lift?
Watson: You swapped it out for a duplicate, right?
Sherlock: With malware and a dead battery. Should give me enough time to review his call history, flesh out the Ghost Mountain family tree. With any luck, I should find the Snake Eye mole before he has time to sound the alarm and they all swap out their burners.
Sherlock: Wasn't aware you were back on this side of the globe.
Morland Holmes: My business brings me back to this city more often than I'd like. My son's behavior brings me back to this Brownstone more often than I'd like.
Sherlock: How have I offended now?
Morland: Why are you looking into Sabine?
Sherlock: What gave you the idea I am?
Morland: I was informed by the woman you robbed. Did you really think that Soleil and I would not still be in contact?
Sherlock: That's precisely what I'd assumed.
Morland: After the attack, she could've blamed me for her mother's death. Instead, she prayed for my recovery. I owe her answers, not more grief, so you can imagine my frustration when I heard that her home had been violated the same night as she was visited by a beautiful but hapless Asian motorist.
Sherlock: Watson and I did not travel to Quebec on a lark.
Morland: Then why did you go?
Sherlock: There's good reason to believe that Sabine was a party to the attempt on your life.
Morland: Oh, Sherlock...
Sherlock: Perhaps her participation was unwitting, perhaps you're just wrong about her character. Either way, the shooter was far too well-prepared to strike when and where he did. He rented a room above the plaza, disabled a traffic camera, mapped his escape route. All of those facts are completely at odds with your assertion that Sabine chose the restaurant on the spur of the moment that evening.
Morland: It's impossible.
Sherlock: There is a vast gulf between impossible and impossible to imagine.
Morland: No. You've got everything backwards. I am to blame for what happened to her. If we had never met, she would still be alive today. Someone I loved was annihilated because of me.
Sherlock: Well, there's an overdue sentiment.
Morland: To invoke your mother now. You haven't changed.
Sherlock: I'm not going to stop looking into Sabine. She is the key.
Watson: Marcus. Hi.
Detective Bell: Hey.
Watson: Two sugars.
Bell: The file you asked for. I swung by the 14th on my way in. Ugh. You're getting the better end of this deal.
Watson: So Xi Hai Ching was lying about where he was last night.
Bell: No, but I think the assault he told you about might be connected to the three homicides.
Watson: Kevin Chang. So he's the nephew of Xi's mistress?
Watson: Well, it looks like he got jumped just two blocks from the arcade.
Bell: Yeah, about five minutes after the shots were fired there. I get that it's a rough neighborhood, but that's a serious coincidence, no? Keep flipping.
Watson: Someone hit him with a blunt object. Well, that looks like it could be from the stock of a shotgun, couldn't it?
Bell: That's what I thought. It's about the right size. So maybe this wasn't a mugging after all. Kevin was in the wrong place at the wrong time, saw something he shouldn't have. The shooter spent all his ammo blasting the Triad and had to chase Kevin down and tried to beat him to death.
Watson: Looks like he almost finished the job. Last notes say that the doctors had to put him in a coma until the swelling in his brain subsides.
Bell: I doubt Kevin will be able to give us much of a description if he wakes up. But we can talk to the people who found him. Maybe they saw the perp fleeing the scene.
Watson: I'll call Sherlock.
Sven Eklund: Yeah, so I was the third person to come along and see the whole mess. People who found him were these two homeless guys. They uh, didn't have a phone and they were pretty drunk. I was walking along the block there, and I heard him yell for help, so I came on over.
Watson: What did you see?
Eklund: Kevin. That's his name, right? Yeah, he was just covered in blood. Somebody really bashed him, and he's babbling and...
Bell: Wait, he was still conscious?
Watson: Kind of. He wasn't making much sense. Said an old lady did it.
Watson: Someone who lives above the arcade said they saw an old woman hurrying away from the scene of the shooting last night.
Bell: You think some little old lady gunned down three Chinese gangsters and then caved Kevin Chang's skull in with a shotgun?
Sherlock: Watson is correct that the crimes were committed by the same person. But I don't think that person was an elderly woman. Might have looked like an elderly woman, though.
Gregson: Have a seat.
Xi: What is this?
Meng Zhou: I will not be in the same room with this man.
Gregson: Since you both have sworn up and down that you're just simple shopkeeps, I don't see the harm in a little conversation. Do you? We thought you should know that your gangs don't need to go to war after all.
Bell: Mr. Meng, we're almost positive Mr. Xi's organization had nothing to do with the arcade killings.
Bell: Yeah, it depends on whether or not there's any bak gwei in Ghost Mountain or the Snake Eye Boys.
Xi: A white man? In a Triad?
Gregson: That's what we thought.
Bell: We found the murder weapon. It was used to beat a man named Kevin Chang senseless just two blocks from the arcade. That's your girlfriend's nephew, right? Well uh, that's a coincidence. Sort of. Kevin, as you probably know, is a suspected mugger himself. Or at least he's a person of interest in a few open cases. Looks like last night he made the mistake of trying to rob a killer on the run.
Gregson: The beating he ended up taking attracted attention, so the shooter decided to ditch his stuff.
Bell: We found this mask hidden in the same spot. It's made of silicone and mortician's putty. Usually the putty is used to cover injuries on dead bodies, but obviously it can be utilized in mask-making as well. There were several brown Caucasian eyebrow hairs stuck to the back.
Gregson: The hairs are a preliminary DNA match for a half-chewed seltzer tablet that we found at the arcade.
Meng: Captain, just what are you saying?
Bell: We're saying a white man made himself look like an old Chinese woman and faked a seizure. That's why your guys dropped their guard and came to his aid. And were gunned down for their trouble.
Xi: My condolences.
Gregson (phone): All right. Thank you.
Gregson: Sounds like everybody's come out of their bunkers. Patrol cops in Chinatown saw Ghost Mountain and Snake Eye members out and about last night.
Bell: Always great to get criminals back out on the street.
Gregson: Well, it's what we want. This time. No shots fired. Looks like the peace will hold, unless the master of disguise decides to strike again.
Sherlock: I assure you there's no such thing as a master of disguise. If there was, I'd be one myself.
Bell: Of course you would.
Sherlock: You scoff, but I did drama at school. I mastered stage makeup. I was quite adept with prosthetics and wigs, but I learned that they have their limits. A plan to infiltrate a dining club in the guise of a loathed rival was a spectacular failure.
Bell: You think maybe this adult killer is somehow even more skilled than you were as a child?
Sherlock: I doubt it. Let's say he was to impersonate you. Adopting your appearance would not be enough. He'd have to mimic your gait, your vocal inflection, your very scent. I doubt even the most skilled actor with the most sophisticated makeup could pass for an imbecile's distant acquaintance.
Gregson: And yet, according to you, our perp tricked three Triad members into letting him into their arcade.
Sherlock: He was seen at night through a dirty window whilst foaming at the mouth and pretending to seize. All of this contributed to their ability to pass for Bai May-Lung.
Bell: And who is Bai May-Lung?
Sherlock: The Snake Eye Boys called Bai "Grandmother." Her deceased husband was a Triad lieutenant. He used his wife's hair salon to launder money.
Bell: She just finished a three-year bid at Albion Correctional six months ago.
Sherlock: Revered by the three victims for her service and unsuspecting in the extreme, she's perfect.
Gregson: I'm sold. Why don't you two go have a chat with her, see if she has any idea who would have wanted to impersonate her.
Sherlock: Respectfully, Mrs. Bai served a prison sentence in her 70s rather than cooperate with the state. She won't talk to anyone with a badge. So I already dispatched Watson to her home at Willowbrook Assisted Living. And, hopefully, that should make things go more smoothly.
Bai May-Lung: Get out.
Bai May-Lung: I said get out.
Ma'am, the reason I want to talk to you about Snake Eye Triad...
Bai May-Lung: (swears in Chinese)
Watson: Okay, that's not very nice. Look, three of your husband's old gang members were shot to death the other night. Do you want that person brought to justice or not?
Bai: They will be.
Watson: Your friend Meng Zhou isn't so certain. This wasn't Triad business. The killer was a white man. He got close to the three victims by disguising himself as you. He made that. He dressed like you. Might not seem like much, but it was enough to fool the men that were killed. You know who did it, don't you?
Bai: Two weeks ago, there was a photographer here. White man. He say I need Willowbrook ID. He took pictures. Then he want to know about Snake Eye Boys.
Watson: Had you seen him before?
Bai: No. I go in bathroom to call the front, "Get him out." But I come back, he left. Pervert stole my laundry.
Watson: He took your clothes?
Bai: It was in a basket there. My nice jacket, bras, everything.
Watson: What did he look like?
Bai: White man, brown hair.
Watson: Anything else?
Bai: No, I don't see good anymore.
Watson: White man, brown hair.
Watson: Still waiting to talk to the administrator. He's wrapping up a meeting.
Sherlock: In the middle of a heated negotiation with a tapioca vendor, no doubt. Can you imagine being king of this castle?
Watson: I feel worse for the residents who live here. Not even Bai May-Lung deserves to be preyed on by these faux charities.
Sherlock: How can you doubt the authenticity of an organization which has provided at least one Ping-Pong table to a middle school?
Watson: Wherever there's an immigrant community, there are these neighborhood organizations funneling cash into gangsters' pockets.
Sherlock: You think the Chinatown Community Outreach is a Triad creation?
Watson: They're trying to trick people into leaving them money when they die.
Michael Haas: Hey there. Hi. Michael Haas. Michael Haas. My assistant gave me the gist. Uh, you, you think we had a killer in our midst, huh? Wow.
Sherlock: Yes, "wow." We're hoping that the culprit might appear on your security footage. Um, I notice you don't have any cameras in this hallway, but the one over by the front door, that, that would be sufficient.
Haas: Actually, that's just closed circuit. It doesn't record. At night, we have a security guard at the desk. He can see anyone who's coming, buzz 'em in if it's all good. But that's it.
Sherlock: So would-be murderers are only free to roam the halls and harass the residents during business hours?
Watson: Ms. Bai said that her visitor was a white man who claimed to work here. Maybe you could show us where you keep your files. It would be helpful for us to look at employee records, vendors with access.
Haas: I wish I could.
Watson: You are the boss, right?
Haas: Sure, but my people have privacy rights. Without a, a warrant, uh, I wouldn't feel comfortable. But, listen, it doesn't matter. This guy doesn't work here. I can tell you that right now.
Haas: We've got 25 people on staff. Except for me, everybody's either Jamaican, Salvadoran or Chinese. No white men. Uh, that's just the way it worked out.
Watson: We signed a visitor log when we arrived. Is there anything else the killer would have had to provide in order to gain access?
Haas: Sorry, I mean, Willowbrook is not a prison. But you can make a copy of that log if you want.
Sherlock: Which dead gangster do you want to start with?
Watson: Uh, Adam Tsai. Looks like he might have been the first one shot. So who do you want, Ray Mui or Gao Chung Pei?
Sherlock: Flip a coin. Casting about their criminal histories for clues of the killer's identity seems a very, very broad approach for such a specific crime.
Watson: I don't see where else we're gonna get traction. I mean, we have that copy of the Willowbrook visitor log, but it's not like the guy would have signed in with his real name to see Bai May-Lung. Plus half those signatures are illegible scribbles. What are you gonna do with Soleil's hatbox over there?
Sherlock: Its contents proved to be entirely useless, so I'm returning it to my father tomorrow.
Watson: He's in town?
Sherlock: Found out about what we did. It would appear he's a much more involved father to the daughter he never had than he was to either of the two sons he did. Soleil called him after she discovered the theft. He came to see me yesterday.
Watson: That could not have gone well.
Sherlock: He insisted Sabine Raoult died because of him. He took full responsibility.
Watson: Sounds like that bothered you.
Sherlock: We never talked about my mother, did we?
Watson: No, I mean, I know she died a long time ago. But other than that, I...
Sherlock: So, anything about me that you might find interesting or amusing or good, you'd have found a more pure distillation of that in May Holmes. Naturally, my father divorced her when I was eight years old. I knew that trouble was brewing when Mycroft and I were packed off to boarding school a year ahead of schedule, two in my case. By the time we came home for the holidays, my mother was out on her ear.
Watson: Your father threw her out?
Sherlock: Prior to marriage, she signed a prenuptial agreement. My father was guaranteed full custody. She was guaranteed visitation, a small amount for living expenses. She lived her last few months in a modest flat in the East End. So modest in fact that it went up like a tinder box when the neighbor's water heater caught fire. Yeah, pretty sure the smoke would've got her before the...uh, so I didn't speak to my father for two years after that.
Watson: You held him responsible.
Sherlock: I did.
Watson: You still do. I'm sorry.
Sherlock: Just give me one second.
Watson: Of course. I can work downstairs.
Sherlock: Oh, no, I don't mean, um, here. Have a look at this. The fourth entry on the morning Bai was visited. Take a look.
Watson: What am I looking at? It looks like a bunch of scribbles.
Sherlock: Just because it doesn't say anything, it doesn't mean it doesn't tell us anything. An elite graphologist can use a mere doodle as the basis for a sample in some instances, so be an elite graphologist.
Watson: Okay. If this is the killer, I would say he was left-handed. Writes with a slanted baseline.
Sherlock: Yes. Note the loops.
Watson: They might be arrhythmic.
Sherlock: They are. Just like the ones you see here.
Watson: Sven Eklund. The Good Samaritan who called in the mugging.
Sherlock: The short white man who committed the mugging. Wrote down his contact details for the police.
Watson: He's a mortician.
Sherlock: Hmm. Who does frequent business with Willowbrook Assisted Living. Their Family Resources page calls his work incredibly lifelike. Thanks to his skill with mortician's putty, no doubt.
Police (radio): Team leader, this is Unit Four. Neighbors haven't seen our guy either. You got any word from the cars that rolled on his business?
Gregson (radio): Place was empty. Listen, I want an ND car posted at the end of this block. This guy split, but you never know. Maybe he'll come to his senses.
Police (radio): Copy that.
Gregson: What do you got?
Bell: The guy's missing four double-aught shells. It's the same kind used at the arcade.
Gregson: I take it this is where he made the mask.
Bell: Masks, plural. You need to see this. Now, I recognize Bai and Meng. No idea on the other guy.
Gregson: Me neither. So, he could look like any of these people.
Bell: Seems to be the idea. There's paint on this table in a few different flesh tones. Pretty sure he made masks of all of them.
Gregson: What the hell is this guy up to?
Bell: No clue. But he may not be finished killing people.
Watson: You slept.
Sherlock: Yes, I'm human. It is required periodically. Your phone woke me up.
Watson: It was Marcus. Sven Eklund's wife got a text from a burner phone. "So sorry. Leaving tomorrow. I will call you when I'm safe."
Sherlock: So, a manhunt's underway and he's gonna spend a day in the city before he flees?
Watson: Could be he's scrambling for a way to get out of the country.
Sherlock: Or he hasn't finished what he's doing. Did his wife happen to know why he rained hell down on three Triad members?
Watson: No. But apparently he got a terminal diagnosis recently. Cardiomyopathy. His heart's gonna be too big to continue beating within a year. She thinks he snapped.
Sherlock: A mortician who can't come to terms with his own mortality? Eh. Bai's mask was used to get close to and execute three gang members. And then discarded. A Meng mask would suggest a fixation with the Snake Eye Boys. Perhaps he intends to use it to commit more murders. This man doesn't look like he's a member of any Triad.
Watson: No, but maybe Sven used a mask to get into Willowbrook to talk to Bai-May Lung.
Sherlock: I suppose if you are half-blind, this man might appear Caucasian.
Watson: The Captain's got Meng Zhou coming into the station. We're gonna warn him that he might be in danger. Maybe you could go to Willowbrook, see if I'm right about that guy.
Sherlock: You're quite sure that's not the man who took your clothes?
Bai: Are you going blind, too? This man is not white.
Sherlock: What about this man?
Bai: Maybe. Maybe his cousin. The man who took my picture. He had a big nose.
Sherlock: So him, except for the nose?
Bai: That's what I said.
Gregson: We have no idea what this man is planning, but we can figure it out and stop him if you work with us.
Watson: Three of your men have already died. For all we know, more attacks could be coming. You really don't want to tell us how Mr. Eklund is connected to the Snake Eye Boys?
Meng: Never have I seen this man before. But this man. This is Terry Perez.
Watson: And who's that?
Meng: He fixes machines at the arcade for many years. But last week he did something very unusual. Ray Mui, my friend, one of the men who died. He said that Terry came over very late one night. He, he looked strange. His face. Uh, they thought maybe he on drugs. He said nothing. He just wave at them to open up. But it was 1:00 a.m. in the morning, huh? So my friend said, "No, no. You come back tomorrow." So Terry leaves. Next day they call him and-and he said, "You mistaken. I was not there last night."
Watson: Must've been Sven. When his Terry mask didn't work, he made one that looked like Bai.
Meng: I told you everything I know. Now, you find this man.
Gregson: If Sven really did have to take two passes at that arcade, I guess your partner is right. There's no such thing as a master of disguise.
Watson: At least we now know what those two masks were for. That just leaves us the one that looks like Meng.
Gregson: What's up?
Watson: Sherlock says that Sven did not wear a mask when he went to see Bai. Just made his nose a little bigger. But just in case Sven is going for the "less is more" approach again, Sherlock mocked up a few alternate looks for the Finest Message you issued.
Gregson: Okay, I'll get these out to our people.
Receptionist (intercom): Sir, your son is here. He's not on the schedule.
Morland (intercom): Send him in.
Receptionist (intercom): Yes, sir.
Sherlock: Sabine's things. You can return them to your beloved step-acquaintance with my apologies.
Morland: So, you've cleared Sabine?
Sherlock: There's ample evidence in her letters that her affection for you is genuine. But there's nothing dispositive one way or the other.
Morland: Only because you can't prove a negative.
Sherlock: I could come much closer if I could have access to her professional e-mail accounts. I know she ran your Paris office. A review of her business correspondence should settle it.
Morland: And when you've finished, come back and apologize.
Sherlock: That will be a cold day, indeed.
Morland: It's uncanny. When I look at you, I see your mother. I hear her voice.
Sherlock: I am my mother's son.
Morland: You have more in common than you realize.
Sherlock: What's that?
Morland: Something I dug up last night after our little talk. Records of her stay at the Lawford Center. Did you really believe you're the first addict in the family? She had a problem. I didn't understand it. I only knew that I loved her and and so I forced her to get help as a precondition of our marriage. It worked. We started our family. Mycroft came along. And then you. When her sobriety was finally punctured, I sent the two of you away to boarding school. I urged her to return to Lawford, she refused. She thought she could get well herself. I told her it was a mistake. Never have I been so unhappy to be correct. She begged me not to tell you. And for decades, I obliged. But no longer. I wish I could say that I cut her off to help her, but I can't. Enforcing our prenuptial agreement was the pettiest thing I've ever done in my life. I made the decision out of anger. And I shall never forgive myself. But enough is enough.
Sherlock: Well, you don't get to decide that.
Morland: I do, Sherlock. I have. Now get out.
Watson (phone): Sherlock, I don't know why you're not returning my texts, but Sven Eklund is still out there, and we could use your help. So call me back.
Gregson: If that was Sherlock, you can tell him to relax. We got Sven. TSA and Port Authority Police popped him at JFK with a fake ID. He had a putty nose and a brown wig on. Dead ringer for one of the alternate looks we put up. They're bringing him in right now.
Eklund: Yeah, that's right. The last one, he, he started to run to the back of the arcade, so I you know, so I ran after him. And he slipped and I shot him in the chest. Then I left.
Bell: All right, just so we've got the rest of it clear. You were almost to your car and then Kevin Chang, he came up to you and demanded your wallet?
Eklund: Well, no, my purse, actually, because, you know, I was an old woman. I, I did feel a little bad about how much I hit that guy, but there was so much adrenaline.
Gregson: You seem awfully pleased with yourself. I'd like to know why. What was all this about?
Eklund: There's three fewer bad guys in the world. I'm sure you appreciate that.
Watson: What were you gonna do with the other disguise that looked like Meng Zhou? What were you gonna use it for?
Eklund: To get into the arcade. But then, you know, I realized that those guys saw him every day. The mask wouldn't fool them, so I made others.
Bell: I don't believe you. Come on, Sven, don't get shy now. I want to know why you didn't run the second you found out we were looking for you. You waited a day. You sure you didn't stick around to use that other mask? We gonna find any more bodies with your name on 'em?
Eklund: No, no, you've got the wrong idea.
Gregson: Then help us to understand. Why did you do this?
Watson: Does it have something to do with that scar on your arm? Looks pretty fresh. Maybe a few weeks old.
Eklund: I hurt myself at work. We use surgical scissors when we do embalming. I, I, I left some out, I just turned right into them.
Watson: Looks more like a knife wound to me. You know, one of the men at the arcade who was killed, Ray Mui, he had a switchblade on him when he died. It would've left a mark like that. He did that to you, didn't he? So did you finish getting your revenge at the arcade, or was there more?
Eklund: Uh I, I don't have anything else to say.
Gregson: You got a year to live and you were proud to sit there and tell us every detail about how you killed three guys. So the only reason I can imagine you're not telling us why is because there's something you did. Something you don't want us to know about.
Eklund: Get me a lawyer or take me to jail. I'm done talking.
Gregson: I hope that second bag of chips is a little reward. You did good work today.
Watson: I'm giving myself an "I", for "Incomplete."
Gregson: I hear you. I'm pretty sure when Sven Eklund goes to meet his maker, he's gonna have to answer for more than those three murders. But tomorrow's another day.
Watson: Before you go, I was right. Sven was stabbed on the 23rd of last month. He was treated in the ER at Hamilton Hospital. The doctors there weren't buying his scalpel story, either. The blade that cut him was double-edged. So they filled out a police report.
Gregson: That definitely could've been made by a switchblade like Ray Mui's.
Watson: We would've caught it sooner, but Sven wasn't gonna talk or press charges, so the report got lost on the bottom of the pile.
Gregson: How did you think to go to the 14th Precinct?
Watson: They cover Hamilton and it's the closest place to the mortuary.
Gregson: You think Snake Eye Boys attacked him at his work?
Watson: Look at the intake time. 11:30 a.m. We've got Sven's work calendar. He was doing an embalming in the morning and he was supposed to handle a viewing at noon.
Gregson: Why would a Triad charge into a mortuary, stab somebody their boss doesn't even know?
Watson: That's what I'd like to know.
Watson: He lives.
Sherlock: Yeah. Sorry I've been out of touch. Had a few things to chew on. Family matters.
Watson: You okay?
Sherlock: Yeah. I'll be better with some work to focus on. So I understand from your many messages that Sven Eklund has not confessed to anyone's satisfaction and that you believe he was once knifed by various and sundry Snake Eye Boys.
Watson: But he won't admit it, which makes no sense. Couldn't confess fast enough until we asked him about his motive.
Sherlock: Revenge was not enough?
Watson: Well, there's no question he got revenge, so why not crow about it? He didn't seem to want to explain why a Triad would go into his business and attack him in the first place.
Sherlock: That's interesting.
Watson: Mmm. So is this. So the body that Sven was working on that morning Brent Arrieta. He had been a resident at Willowbrook.
Sherlock: I imagine many of Sven's clients come from that grim warehouse.
Watson: Yes, but it's strange. The embalming process takes a couple of hours, right? According to these phone records, Sven took a break in the middle of working on Arrieta to call Michael Haas, the administrator at Willowbrook. Two hours later, Sven is in the ER. There's something there, I just can't place it.
Sherlock: Course you can't. 'Cause you weren't with me at Willowbrook earlier this morning. The Chinatown Community Outreach posters which so offended you have been removed, presumably at the request of Mr. Haas. But we'll have to exhume Mr. Arrieta's body to know for sure.
Haas: Okay. Now you really have to tell me. Why am I here? Why, why are you making me look at Mr. Arrieta?
Bell: Because we had to. And we thought it might help put you in the proper frame of mind.
Sherlock: I know it's dreadful, but the stench would be much worse if Sven Eklund hadn't embalmed the body. What we wanted to talk to you about was why he stopped midway through that process to call you and why, just two hours later, he's getting his arm stitched up at Hamilton Hospital. And why, the very next day, he started photographing faces that would help him shoot up a Chinese Triad.
Watson: Figuring out how those three things connected cost us a lot of sleep. You see, we now know why Sven was calling you.
Bell: Mr. Arrieta here is still chock-full of muscle relaxant. We know it was the cause of death.
Haas: He died in his sleep.
Sherlock: No, he died of a massive Carisoprodol overdose. Probably administered in his food. Made it impossible for him to breathe. Suffocated in his armchair.
Watson: Sven would've realized that when he went to insert these eyelid caps. Morticians use them so the eyes don't open during the viewing. He would've seen Mr. Arrieta's enlarged pupils. You see, that is one of the classic signs of a muscle relaxant overdose.
Sherlock: Don't pretend this is the first time you've heard this. Sven called you to tell you what he'd found. Little did he know you were the one who poisoned Mr. Arrieta.
Haas: No! Why would I? That's crazy.
Sherlock: Your first move was to call the Snake Eye Boys. They went and "explained" to Mr. Eklund, with the help of Ray Mui's switchblade, that he needed to keep his mouth shut, which he did.
Haas: Oh, oh, so now I'm not just the killer. Now I can sic Chinese gangsters on people?
Watson: Sure, you could. You were their golden goose. You gave yourself away when you took the posters down. Chinatown Community Outreach. We pulled the 501(c) paperwork. That outfit was wholly owned by the three men that Sven shot Monday night.
Bell: About the only thing we can't figure out is why you were scamming for those guys. You get a cut, or did they have something on you?
Haas: What guys? I don't even know who you are talking about now.
Bell: Ray Mui. Gao Chung Pei. Adam Tsai. They had you pressuring the residents at Willowbrook to donate to their fake charity. You don't think there's a paper trail?
Haas: I don't control who gives what to what charity.
Watson: No. You're just a voice in their ear. And anyone who makes the mistake of listening and revising their estate gets a complimentary trip to Sven Eklund's slab.
Haas: We're done here.
Bell: I don't think we are. 'Cause I'm pretty sure that when we look at all the recent deaths at Willowbrook, we're gonna find a pattern of charitable giving and dirt naps.
Haas: Can we please go outside? I, I can't breathe in here. I, I want immunity. I can testify.
Sherlock: Against who?
Haas: Those guys. They have a boss.
Sherlock: Yes, of course. Meng Zhou. Came to see you last night, didn't he?
Haas: How, how did you know that?
Bell: Meng Zhou was in our police station earlier this morning. He was pretty ticked to find out about the scam his dead buddies had been running at Willowbrook. Guess they never told him.
Haas: No. They did. He knew.
Watson: How do you know? Did he say so when he came to see you?
Haas: He didn't say anything, he just handed me a note.
Bell: Something to the effect of, "Nothing stops"? Maybe a numbered account that was supposed to replace the charity?
Watson: If you had just asked Meng Zhou a question, just one, you would've heard his voice and realized it was Sven Eklund. Sven has cardiomyopathy. He's dying. He got stabbed and he got angry. And he wanted to provide for his family. What's your excuse for killing people?
Sherlock: Found something in Sabine's e-mails. A message which sealed her fate. And nearly yours. One of her old friends from university was in town. Wanted to meet for a late drink. Sabine told her where the two of you would be dining that night. There was no spur-of-the-moment choice. She'd already decided.
Morland: She always did have a way of getting what she wanted from me. It doesn't prove she was complicit.
Sherlock: No. In fact, she wasn't. Unbeknownst to her, her e-mails were being read by a mercenary. I had a friend take a look at her account. He discovered a worm which was blind-copying her mail and sending it to a separate account belonging to a man named Ruslan Krasnov.
Morland: Who is he?
Sherlock: A killer of Chechen extraction. Obviously, Ruslan is just a trigger man. He's not the architect of the assassination attempt.
Morland: Should be easy enough to find his employer.
Sherlock: It would be, if he wasn't already serving a life sentence in a supermax prison just outside St. Petersburg in Russia. So if you want answers from the horse's mouth...
Morland: I'll find a way.
Sherlock: Did you give me this just to be horrible? Or did you think it would change anything? It is helpful. I'll give you that. It gives me incrementally more insight into my own problem. She's no less dead. I'm no less an addict. And you're no more a father. I know what it's like. To lose a great love. It can change you, force you to make bad decisions.
Morland: I've told you. If I could take back the last 33 years...
Sherlock: I'm not talking about Mother. These are dangerous times for you. So I'd tread carefully.