Are you sure I can't make you a sandwich?
Uh, nope. I'm good. Thanks, Doc.
Well, I appreciate you working late, Kasie,
but you do know we could resume early in the morning.
Uh, nope, we can't.
Not with your deadline a week away.
That is, unless you're cool with me making
editorial choices on my own.
Uh, otherwise, I recommend you turn off
that procrastinator's dream show and focus over here, please.
It's got a little bit of damage. Y-You've had it for a while.
- You can see one of the spikes is missing here. - Well, it's real old.
No, but, I mean, that doesn't distract at all
from the value, as far as I'm concerned.
Well... I mean, it's just...
- It's just part of its story. - Right.
- Right, right, right. Yeah. - Wow.
I know. I like to just think of all the people
that have held that. Can I make you an offer?
No. No, it's not for sale.
- I don't think so. - Hey, Duck.
Jethro, tell me you're watching.
I never miss this show.
I mean, is it possible?
After all these years?
How fast can you get down here?
♪ NCIS 15x17 ♪ One Man's Trash Original Air Date on March 13, 2018
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
Ah, take it yours is busted again?
Ah. Mine, too.
Top government agency,
and we have one working stapler between us?
Uh, make that no staplers, because this one is busted, too.
Maybe it's just empty. Maybe it's just jammed.
- Ooh. - Whoa, whoa, whoa!
No, no, no. What are you doing?
You're gonna break it.
And here are the hardest-working special agents
in law enforcement.
Oh, welcome back, Ducky.
Eleanor, allow me to introduce
Kasie Hines, my graduate assistant.
Kasie, this is...
Wait, don't tell me.
“Eleanor” would make you Agent Bishop,
and you look more like an Agent McGee than a Torres,
which would make you Agent Torres.
- Damn it, I don't look like a McGee? - Ah, well.
Kind of look like a McGee with a tan, maybe.
Kasie insisted on accompanying me.
Like I had a choice.
Publisher's expecting his first five chapters on Monday,
and we're nowhere close.
Oh, we're not that far.
I-I hired Kasie to keep me on schedule.
Little did I know she would be so, uh...
emphatic.
And I'll be emphatically furious if you miss your deadline.
We still have a ton
of notes to transcribe.
Plus, his chapter on unsolved cases
will need a big rewrite if this Flintstones thing pays off.
- Flintstones? - Yeah, Gibbs called me
about it last night, and I must say,
this thing looks very Flintstones.
What the hell is that thing?
It's a ceremonial Viking war stick.
It was adopted by an obscure fraternal organization
back in the 1800s.
Gibbs and Ducky think it's also
the missing weapon to an unsolved case.
16 years ago, I pulled a single wooden spike
from the skull of a young petty officer.
- You never traced it to a weapon? - No.
No, not until just now.
And you have got to be Jethro!
Hi!
Hello.
Yeah, Kasie's work on my book
has made her very familiar with the team.
Perhaps a little too familiar.
It's-it's an honor, really. I mean,
Doc is writing some great stuff about you.
Okay.
Yeah. Okay.
Uh, McGee.
Yeah, boss. Um, well, as you saw on the show last night,
the woman chose not to sell the item in question.
- Yeah. - $3,000.
- No. You know what? - Three grand's a lot of moola, honey.
Tell you what. It's not for sale.
It's worth way more than that, anyway.
- I know it. - What?!
More than $3,000 for a piece of wood?
Boss, I dug up the lady's address in southern Maryland.
Okay. Duck, let's go.
- Bishop, you, too. - Oh, man.
He does move fast.
So much junk,
so little time.
Junk, my dear Ellie, is in the eye of the beholder.
As are most treasures.
What the hell
are you doing in here?
Oh, o-our sincerest apologies, Mrs. Keogh.
Yeah, we're with NCIS, Mrs. Keogh.
How much you want for this?
Seriously, Gibbs?
Take a buck for it.
Ah, it's worth more than that. I'll give you five.
Sorry.
Ever since that show aired last night,
we've been besieged with more crazy collectors.
You wouldn't believe the offers we got for that damn war stick.
Speaking of which, I don't see it here,
where it was mounted on the show.
Don't have it anymore.
Show was shot, what, three months ago?
Couple weeks later,
my husband talked me into taking Mike's offer.
So the Pickers have it now. They do.
For a hell of a lot less than we've been offered today,
I can tell you. - Well, Mrs. Keogh, how did you acquire it?
Tracing its provenance,
why, it just might lead us sooner to our killer.
Your killer?
We're investigating a murder. Old one.
And you think that stick...?
Oh, no, I-I can't imagine that nice young fella
that sold it to me would be capable.
So, does that nice young fella have a name?
Earl.
Earl something.
Or Fred.
Paid him $2,500 at a flea market about ten years ago.
I'm sure I've got his card here somewhere.
Why?
Why? Why what? What, Georgie?
Why did I ever talk you into selling
for so damn little?
With all due respect, Mr. Keogh,
$3,000 is a decent price.
The call we just got.
The offer-- man, it was a knee buckler.
Cranky son of a gun just offered us
25,000.
Dollars?
Who was that? Oh, I don't know.
Guy didn't believe me at first when I told him we sold it.
Then he got all mad,
cursing and hollering before he hung up on me.
Dare I say
that someone that eager and angry...
Might just know something.
It's really no different
from one of those sorority or fraternity paddles.
Purely ceremonial.
Uh, a symbol, a totem.
And very good luck, supposedly.
Right. A talisman.
These groups love that kind of thing.
You know much about this?
Esteemed Order of the Blue Guard?
No, but these groups have been around forever.
Knights of Columbus,
the Freemasons, Rotary Club.
Let's not forget about the International Brotherhood
of Loyal Raccoons.
Honeymooners? No? No one?
Collectors have a community all their own.
To them, the value
isn't in the chunk of wood itself.
It's what it means to whoever wants it.
So what does it mean to the guy who offered $25,000?
Well, for that much,
it has to mean getting away with murder.
We traced the call to a burn phone,
which makes Mr. $25,000 even more suspicious.
And Mrs. Keogh is still looking
for the card of Earl something, the guy who sold her the stick.
I left a message for Danielle
at the Pickers' headquarters in Iowa.
She should be getting back to me anytime soon.
So, who did this thing kill, exactly?
What was the case?
Happened a long time ago, before any of you were here.
- Young petty officer. - Marvin Finn.
Was found dead with blunt force wounds
in an alley in Columbia Heights.
It was a bad neighborhood in 2002.
A small wooden spike
was left embedded in Finn's skull,
but neither Ducky or Abby could ever link it
to a weapon or killer.
The last two people to see Finn alive
were his girlfriend Jane and his best friend Bill.
Lack of evidence or a motive made them weak suspects at best.
Could Finn
be somehow connected
to this Esteemed Order of Raccoons
- or whatevers? - Doubtful.
I mean, the last surviving members
of the Blue Guard died off in the 1960s.
Yes, but could Finn
maybe be a descendant?
Grandfathered in somehow?
All right, there's a loose connection somewhere.
Keep digging. Come on. Find it.
Yeah, took a while to find it.
You know, our evidence storage
is like one big old museum of murder.
Hard to believe something that small
could cause so much damage.
Yeah.
I know, right?
Oh, kind of took over your desk, didn't I?
Oh, no, no, no. Kasie, it-it's fine. It's fine.
If you recall from my notes, Kasie,
it was the blunt force injury from the stick
that killed Petty Officer Finn and not this spike.
A spike which, frankly, is a lot larger
than some of the evidence we collect.
I mean, most of it's microscopic.
Microscopic?
That's where I come in, literally.
Abby, you heard the good news.
The great news. And I can't believe it,
after all these years.
And you must be Kasie. I'm Abby.
Hey. Hey, hi.
Hi.
Uh, so, rumor has it
you're working wonders with Ducky's book.
Trying.
Oh, that-that reminds me.
Would it be possible for Kasie to stay at your place
- for a couple of days? - What? Doc, no.
I already got a motel
and would probably get more done there, anyway.
Nuh-uh. No motel.
You are staying with me, lady.
No if, ands, or buts. But...
Okay.
Aha.
You miss me?
Little bugger. I knew we'd see you again.
I wish I had your optimism, Abby,
but it seemed this case was destined
to be stuck in my craw
for the rest of my days.
This one really had you all stumped, huh?
Carbon dating I.D.'d this as 900-year-old hickory.
And after that, yeah, “stumped” would be the word.
Well, not anymore.
I mean, this-this one is a total match, right?
Yeah, well, let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Until we have the actual war stick in hand,
we won't know for certain.
No counting our chickens, Jimmy.
I'm totally counting my chickens.
What is that?
Oh, this?
This, my friend, is my new stapler.
Oh, that thing is new?
Well, it's new to me.
Feel the weight of it.
It's like a... like a Mack truck.
- They just don't make 'em like that anymore. - Yeah.
Yeah. Does this thing even work?
Oh, it works.
Listen to this.
Oh, yeah! Mm-hmm.
Yeah, you know, I had no idea
what kind of priceless old relics
you can find at these places. Hmm.
How much you pay for that? Eight dollars.
- Ooh, priceless. - All right, thanks.
Okay, that was Danielle
at the American Pickers' base in Iowa.
What? She called you and not me? No, she called us,
but unlike you, I spend time at my desk.
Okay, can we not start with that again?
Anyway, Danielle said that Mike Wolfe
is at a convention somewhere in Annandale,
and he's got the war stick with him.
- I'll call Gibbs to meet us there. - Oh, no, no.
Allow us to call him to meet us there.
Just spend a little more time on your desk.
Yeah, you take it easy and you send us the address.
You don't have to tell me that.
I got it.
All right, here's the deal, guys.
I have absolutely no interest in selling this piece,
because it's just been too lucky for us.
Lucky how?
Well, Nordic sailors believed
this piece had mystical powers way before the Blue Guard
ever claimed it as their own, and since I've had this,
Frank and I have had some incredible luck finding things.
And I'm just not willing to break up that mojo yet.
We're gonna have to break it for you,
since, uh, this stick wasn't very lucky
for somebody 16 years ago.
Yeah, my office called and said that you guys really believe
that somebody was killed with this thing. - Only one way to find out.
Just please tell me we can get this back if you're wrong,
'cause Danny's gonna be heartbroken.
Tell Danny she doesn't have to worry.
We'll get this back to you as soon as we're finished with it.
Wow.
Wow. This is... This is a stick, all right.
It's pretty cool, huh? Yeah.
Why would someone keep it after killing somebody?
I mean, this is evidence. I would toss it, burn it, right?
My guess is
somebody knew it had value.
Does that make that someone a collector?
You know, collectors are eccentric people,
but I've never heard of anybody
getting killed over a collectible.
Well, Mrs. Keogh
finally found the card of the guy who sold her the stick.
Earl something's name is actually Roy Baxter.
- Roy? - You know him?
Of course. If you're in my business, you know who Roy is.
This is a guy that's been buying
and selling for years at flea markets,
worked his way up
to an antique shop in Falls Church.
Deals in anything from typewriters to teakettles.
- Well, McGee's getting his address now. - Yeah, go meet him.
Torres and I will take this to Abby; she can look at it.
All right. Hey, let me say... let me say good-bye to my baby.
I mean, I've got history with this piece.
I've had it for a while,
and we spent some time together, me and you.
Please tell me that you didn't kill somebody.
It's been real.
Well, that was...
That was a nice good-bye.
Thanks, Mike. Appreciate you.
Like the show. Thank you.
Just got to the antique shop, boss.
Haven't been able to get ahold of the owner.
We'll let you know what we find.
Who closes up and leaves the lights on?
There's got to be a back door.
Yup, it's open.
Hello? Roy Baxter?
NCIS.
Hey, Bishop?
Think we found Baxter.
All right, Ducky and Jimmy are on their way.
So Baxter locked the front door, came out the back.
Dumped the trash.
He got ambushed.
Beaten to death with a broken table leg.
Quite a way to go.
Money's still in the register, but there's no way of telling
if any of the antiques have been taken.
Security cameras?
Nope. None back here.
There's one inside, but it's a really old model.
What I did find was Baxter's appointment book.
There's a few names in there from today.
Could one of them have sold Baxter the war stick years ago?
Well, if so, he obviously didn't want
Baxter telling anyone.
Ah. Is that the antiques dealer?
Yeah. Horrible.
Do you think it's the same killer from 16 years ago?
Blunt force with the Viking war stick,
and now a broken table leg.
If it's not the same guy, they at least share a signature move.
Yes, bashing people to death is quite a signature.
- I didn't say it was a good one. - What about the stick?
- You satisfied it's a match? - Quite.
It's looks to me as if stick and spike
go together like two pieces of a puzzle.
So help me, if there is any evidence on this thing,
- I will find it. - Yeah, the broken table leg
was already sent up to your lab, Abby.
You'll find the evidence a lot fresher.
Well, that means I have a full day.
Let's go, Kasie.
Me? Go where? To my lab.
Doesn't look like you're gonna get much done down here.
Uh, she's right, Kasie.
You need the minimum of distraction.
Uh, let me help you. Are you coming, Abigail?
Um, you know what? Uh, you guys go ahead,
and I'll meet you up there in a few minutes.
So... you two hit it off?
Not quite yet.
Do you think Kasie's okay?
Okay? No, no, she's-she's great.
I mean, a little bit messy,
maybe a tad pushy at first, but...
And shy.
Shy? No, not exactly.
In fact, I'd say she's got just the right amount of moxie
to push Dr. Mallard across the finish line.
- Moxie? - Moxie! My grandpa's favorite word.
Well, I saw no moxie
when she stayed at my place last night.
She barely even spoke to me.
By any chance, did you have her sleep in your guest casket?
I don't have a guest casket. I have a guest room, in which
she promptly shut the door to and worked all night long.
And from that you get shy?
What else would it be?
I don't know, scared, apprehensive, intimidated?
By me?
Jimmy, please. Like that's even possible.
I'll win her over.
As only you can. That's right.
As only... I...
Intimidated?
You've got to be kidding me.
Figures.
Antique shop with an antique surveillance system.
Yeah, a broken antique surveillance system.
The camera's supposed to take a photo every five seconds.
This is closer to 15.
It's all we got. Click faster.
Who is that guy?
Ooh. Well, doesn't seem too friendly.
Oh, make that downright hostile.
You got a name, Nick? Yeah, Baxter's last appointment
was at 6:30 p.m. Clarence Wyatt.
Oh.
Well, somehow I don't think
this was an appointment kind of meeting. And he's gone.
There's no Clarence Wyatts in Falls Church,
but I got one in D.C. Bishop, Torres, go.
Uh, McGee, send us the address?
Okay, you really got to stop telling me that.
McGee, send a picture of him, too.
You got it, boss.
Whoa! Hey, Jethro.
Oh, Agent Gibbs. Sorry.
Am I lost? It depends.
You're looking for Autopsy?
No. Abby's lab. I moved.
One floor down, and you're there.
Hmm.
Yeah.
Why Abby's lab?
Doc and Jimmy were about to autopsy that antique dealer.
Not my thing.
First dead body?
No, I-I've seen one before.
Anyway, long story.
Too long.
I was told not to waste your time.
Who told you that? Everybody.
The same everybody who said you sometimes leave
without saying good-bye.
No. No, no, no.
Yeah. Sure, that's me. So what?
What's this about?
Mm, maybe it's about this gun you're waving around?
You mean the gun I was purchasing?
- Uh-uh. - Whoa. - Oh, chill.
It's not loaded.
Probably hasn't been since Patton fired it.
Patton as in... General George Patton?
Yeah, this is one of his beloved pearl-handled Colts.
And a nice complement to my Churchill whiskey glass,
my FDR cigarette holder,
my Jackie Robinson mitt.
This stuff reminds me of my roots, you know?
Keeps me humble. Plus, my clients love it.
Here's a silly question.
If you bought that from Baxter,
why was he so unhappy afterward?
Like any self-respecting financial genius,
I talked him down.
And as far as I know, I still overpaid.
Ask him. Only Baxter knows for sure.
Well, we would, except Baxter's dead.
Dead? I just saw him.
They jumped him in the alley after closing.
Beat him to death.
- That's terrible. - It is.
You were one of his last customers.
Did you see anything suspicious?
I wish I had.
That neighborhood, I tell you.
Such a good guy.
Let me know if I can help in any way down the road.
And yes, that is titanium.
Actually, you can.
You know anything about this? What is it?
Some kind of a cavemen thing? A movie prop?
Something like that. Say...
is that something you would pay 25 grand for?
25?
No. Maybe if it was swung
by Raquel Welch in One Million Years B.C.
Even then, I'd only give it a-a grand maybe.
Otherwise, it's just an ugly chunk of wood.
Thank you.
My sentiments exactly.
Thanks. No problem.
I just wanted to see it in person.
It's not the prettiest good-luck charm, is it?
I prefer horseshoes or ladybugs.
Any update on the case?
No game-changers yet.
- I'm still waiting on Major Mass Spec. - Oh.
Excuse me. Uh, I know it's not my place,
but may I ask a question?
Absolutely, yes.
I'm sure you've researched all of this already,
but out of curiosity, I DM'd my network
about this Order of the Blue Guard.
And my girl Cheryl in Tucson-- she's an anthropologist--
and she went over to the library
and scanned over the most amazing book to me.
- That's an amazing friend. - Oh, I'm blessed with a lot of them.
Well, did you know that an actual exhibit
of Blue Guard stuff made the museum rounds
for years after they folded up?
Stuff including the “one-of-a-kind” war stick.
Their words, not mine.
Where was the exhibit's last stop?
Doesn't say, but when the tour ended in 1983,
the collection went into a private museum storage facility
- in Fairfax, Virginia. - Wait.
So you're saying the Viking war stick is in storage?
I'm not saying it.
The American Registry of Fraternal Organizations is.
They even have pictures.
So, if this one-of-a-kind Viking war stick
is in storage...?
Then why is it right there?
Welcome to Row 613.
I really should get down here more.
Crate 92 holds the Blue Guard exhibit.
Whoa. Where to begin?
Or we could just start with the one
that says “Viking war stick.”
Huh. Nothing.
Excuse me?
It's empty. There's nothing in it.
How can that be?
At least now we know we have the real thing.
I see security cameras.
They only store up to six months.
Hey, what do you make of this?
It's blood spatter.
Looks more black than red. It's old blood.
Guessing about 16 years old.
Which makes this the original scene of the crime.
Is your Mack truck available?
Sure, just let me back her out of the garage.
Hey, guys, where's Gibbs?
Conference room.
He's with Petty Officer Finn's old girlfriend.
Why? What's up?
The blood...
No.
No, no, no!
Don't tell me...
Really? You killed another one?
Me?
They're your papers. You're a jinx.
Don't blame my papers.
You were saying?
How do you open this thing?
The blood spatter samples that you found
at the storage facility, they were a match
to Petty Officer Finn. Oh, yeah. We figured.
How did Finn's body end up miles away?
Well, the storage facility's big enough
to drive a car or van into,
so getting a body out wouldn't be that hard,
unlike this stupid...
Oh. Oh.
Just... It just needed staples.
So, if I recall,
the last two people to see Finn alive
never mentioned a storage facility.
I mean, didn't they know he was going there?
I'm gonna check on that with Gibbs.
Yeah, and I'll check with McGee
and see if he needs help tracking down
Finn's buddy Bill.
Hey. I was just coming to see you.
Oh, really? 'Cause you were my next stop.
Well, it was meant to be. You first. Go.
Um, lollipops. Can I borrow some?
Always. Come. Whatever you want.
Okay, your turn.
Well, I just wanted to check in on you.
You seemed a little-- I don't know-- off before.
Maybe something to do with Kasie?
It is about Kasie.
And I'm more than a little off.
Why? She seems so smart and sweet.
She does not like me. What?
She doesn't talk to me, she doesn't look at me.
You couldn't tell?
No, not at all.
Nor can I imagine anyone not liking you, Abby.
Everybody doesn't just click right away.
I do.
I click.
And so does she.
She has a network, Jack.
Like, a whole collection
of amazing friends that do stuff like
scan books for her.
I mean, does that sound like someone who doesn't click?
Just give her another shot.
Oh, I intend to. Lollipops.
Oh, I see. The lollipops, they're for Kasie.
Yeah. I mean, maybe I didn't give her a proper welcome.
I'm gonna help you pick out the exact right color for her.
Look at us.
Oh, we were babies.
All these years later and I've never quite shaken
this sick feeling since Finn was killed.
Something you never get over.
Finn never mentioned this... museum storage place to you?
Never. Are you sure it was his blood you found there?
Yeah.
We are now.
God, Finn hardly went to museums,
let alone a place like that.
Have your original statement.
Wasn't much to it.
Finn went out to meet his buddy Bill for a beer.
Bill was always having girl trouble.
And the next time I saw Finn
was on one of your autopsy tables downstairs.
His buddy Bill said they parted ways at 10:00 p.m.,
after their beer.
What does Bill say now?
What's the deal? Why the hot seat?
Not your first interrogation, Mr. Lester?
You said this was about Finn, and I came willingly.
I want nothing more than to have this burden lifted.
The guilt I carry around my whole life.
Guilt?
Yeah, thinking if only I'd seen Finn home safely,
stayed with him after we had that beer.
That beer. Where was that again?
Place isn't there anymore.
Look, what is this?
You guys said that you had some new developments.
We do.
We contacted your old base, and it seems
your buddy Finn was off-duty the night he died,
while you were somehow listed as very much on-duty.
They said that?
Yes, they did. You even drew a special detail.
Delivering artifacts from the Naval Academy Museum
in Annapolis to a museum storage facility in Fairfax.
The same facility
we just found Finn's blood.
Wait, what?
You... you found his blood?
Yeah, and that makes no sense,
'cause how could you meet Finn for a beer
and be on duty that night, making a delivery,
all at the same damn time?
Look...
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
What are you so sorry about?
I didn't kill him, okay?
But I didn't meet him for a beer either.
Okay. What did you do?
I asked Finny to cover my shift, so I could see my girl.
It was the only night she could see me.
Why didn't you say that 16 years ago?
For the same reason Finn didn't tell his girlfriend Jane
where he was really going.
You know? To protect me.
Protect you from what?
The girl I was seeing...
She was our C.O.'s wife.
If I told the truth about that and it got out,
it would ruin her life and my life
and, God, our C.O.'s life...
Like it ended Finn's life?
I didn't see any possible connection.
The-the delivery was in Fairfax.
Finn was found in Columbia Heights.
I mean, those two places are light-years apart.
About 20 miles.
Look, please,
believe me.
You say Finn's... blood was at the storage place?
If I'd have known that, I-I would've told the truth.
I swear I would've.
All right, you want to make up for it?
You tell us everything that you know
about this delivery detail.
Who else was on it?
Look, all I remember is my orders were
to transport stuff from the Navy Museum.
And that I'd be picked up by a guy delivering other stuff
from a museum in Philly, uh, Reconnaissance Hall?
What guy? Some guy.
I don't know. A civilian.
Uh, again, I-I wasn't there.
Finn was.
Damn fool. Why didn't he tell us?
Have we got our killer?
No. Just a liar.
Oh. Okay. Well, in that case,
how much do you guys know about antique firearms?
That would depend.
What do we got? Not us.
That obnoxious billionaire, Clarence Wyatt.
Guy with Patton's pearl-handled Colt?
So, we dug up the receipts from the antique shop
the night Baxter was killed.
Wyatt paid $15,000.
Doesn't that sound like an awful lot?
Not if it once belonged to Patton.
Well, that provenance would indeed raise the price.
That is where it gets weird.
Gets weird? Now it gets weird?
So, Baxter's catalog lists it only
as a World War Two-era Colt revolver.
Not one word about Patton.
Which is not the sort of detail you leave out.
So either Baxter lied to Wyatt about the Colt
or Wyatt lied to us about it.
Why would he do that?
Yeah, you're quite right, Kasie.
This chapter will now require a complete rewrite.
Well, I never said “complete,” Doc.
We-we don't have time for complete.
Besides, you write about two other unsolved cases
in that chapter, and that's plenty.
Yeah, but this current case is by far the most intriguing,
rendering most if not all the rest of the chapter
utterly moot.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
No. No crumpling, Doc.
Do not crumple.
Okay, we will deliver this baby as written,
on time, and uncrumpled.
Along with a proposal.
A proposal?
Yeah, for an entirely new chapter dedicated solely
to this insane case.
I mean, think of it.
War sticks, that-that collector show.
We don't even know the outcome of this yet,
and this could end up your best chapter of all.
You got that?
You can be quite an acquired taste, Kasie.
Has anyone ever told you that?
Only every teacher, coach and relationship that I've ever had.
Yes, well, allow me to express
how grateful I am to have acquired it.
Mwah.
Okay, now go. Go.
I have too much work to do.
That... was... awesome.
Seriously.
I mean, it took Jimmy, like, years
to stand up to Ducky like that.
It's what he hired me to do.
Hey, Abby, you sure you want all this down here?
There's plenty of space up in the evidence garage.
Um, that's fine.
Oh, right by Mass Spec.
Yeah. I get it.
Oh! When I say “Jimmy,” you say “Hey!”
Jimmy! Crazy Kasie!
Okeydoke. Okay.
Okay, yeah.
It's all good, then?
Yeah.
Oh, return of the Mack.
Out of the drawer and, uh, on full display.
You get it to work again?
It's the best paperweight ever.
It only takes antique staples,
so I had to order more from a dealer in Zurich,
and they will be here next week.
Once again, priceless.
Rich guy.
What do we know?
Well, we know he's our guy.
Clarence Wyatt, 38.
CEO of Red Eagle Financial.
He's an investment whiz who, as far as we can tell,
made his fortune running a hedge fund.
Born and raised in Philadelphia,
he is a true rags-to-riches story.
You heard her say Philly, home of
the Reconnaissance Hall Museum. - Yeah. Got that. What else?
Out of high school, Wyatt worked a few odd jobs,
and one of them was as a driver for a trucking company
that specializes in delivery of fine furnishings and artwork.
You guys want to know how long ago that was?
16 years?
At long last, Jethro, we might finally have the answer.
Oh, what else do we need?
We have any specific record
of Wyatt delivering from the museum in Philly
to our storage space? Well, not specifically.
- Then all we have is circumstantial. - Wait a minute.
Wyatt gave me his business card.
And, yes... it is titanium.
Touch DNA. It might have some.
Well, if it does, we must match it
to anything this fellow Wyatt may have touched
in these crates on the night
that Petty Officer Finn was murdered.
I will do my best. And as quickly as possible.
If Jethro and I can't coax a confession
out of this scoundrel, we will need definitive evidence.
You got it.
Um, there's at least, like, 30 more pieces here.
I think I'm gonna see if, um, Jimmy can help me.
He might have gone home already, but...
Oh, what about Kasie?
- What? - Kasie?
Well, she graduated in forensic science.
Her degree is in
forensic science.
Ducky, why didn't you tell me this?
Kasie, why didn't you tell her?
Because she hasn't told me anything.
She doesn't talk to me. Yes, I do.
Yes, she does.
- She talks to everybody. - No.
She doesn't.
What did I do?
You didn't do anything.
- Then what is your problem with me? - I don't have
a problem with you... - No, no, no. Stop. Stop. Stop.
Kasie, put on a lab coat, scrub up and then, by all means,
continue this suddenly excruciating conversation
while you work together,
but out of my purview.
Um, okay, these we ran already.
Those we ran. These are next.
And we're talking.
We were never not talking.
You were not talking to me.
Well, it wasn't intentional, and it certainly had nothing to do
with me having any problem with you.
I mean, quite the opposite.
Opposite of what?
I don't know. Um...
Working on Doc's book, I learned about you and what you do here,
researched a little bit more, and you just...
You're like the Beatles, you know?
The Beatles?
Yeah, the best at this, doing what I want to be doing.
And meeting you, I... guess I'm just a fan.
A fan?
I freaked out.
I-I just froze. I...
Believe me, I was as surprised as anyone.
Well, how do you feel now?
I mean, now we're just talking and getting to know each other.
Kasie?
What is that?
What is what?
Under the splinter.
Is that what I think it is?
I think...
...it is.
And now I'm hugging the Beatles and freaking out all over again!
Highly entertaining, gentlemen.
I mean, yeah, I once drove a truck in Philly.
Hell, I'm proud of my blue-collar roots.
But delivering from one museum to some storage place,
with this Navy kid? What...?
What did you say his name was?
Petty Officer Marvin Finn.
Doesn't remotely ring a bell.
Granted that was a lifetime ago.
Beauty, isn't it?
Patton's baby.
Want to give it a spin?
No. No, I'm good.
So... if there's nothing else...
You paid a lot for that.
Yeah, I believe I discussed that with the agents earlier today.
15 Gs, it wasn't even Patton's.
Come again?
You overpaid for Baxter's silence.
When he said no, or you weren't convinced,
you waited out behind his shop and you ambushed him.
Whoa, what are you saying?
What was I buying silence for exactly?
This.
Oh, that thing again.
That thing was in the storage space.
So was Petty Officer Finn, so were you.
And what was I doing there exactly?
Stealing,
anything of value,
until Petty Officer Finn tried to stop you.
Which is when you stopped him.
Same way you stopped Baxter yesterday.
Yeah, you then threw Finn into the back of your truck
and dumped him miles away
in the worst neighborhood you could find.
You sold the stick to Baxter.
You were home free.
Okay, you know what?
You lost me.
I'm no longer entertained.
Hold that thought.
Yeah, Abbs. What do you got?
Gibbs, we found skin.
One itty bitty, beautiful sliver of skin
under a splinter of wood.
Mm-hmm. And?
And it matches the DNA on Wyatt's titanium card.
I suggest you and your
sidekick show yourselves out.
So we got him, huh?
Oh, we got him.
You got what?
Here.
My full written statement.
You happy now?
No, Wyatt.
Actually, not yet.
I just got to know, man.
Why didn't you throw away that ugly stick?
I guess I should have.
You guess?
You turn a chunk of wood into a murder weapon.
Why didn't you just bury it, burn it?
That ugly stick started everything.
Baxter gave me two grand for it,
which I parlayed into two billion.
That talisman stuff is real.
That was one lucky chunk of wood.
Not anymore.
Well, better late than never.
And so much better together.
And really well done, Kasie.
No, don't try to butter me up, Doc.
You write your proposal yet?
I've been a little preoccupied.
That's putting it mildly.
Can we focus on your book again?
You will have my complete attention.
We have three days. Move those Duck feathers.
Let's go.
Holy moly.
I'm flattered, Gibbs.
I finally made it to your inner sanctum.
It's a basement.
I'm not even gonna ask about that.
Unless that's what you wanted to show me.
No.
Ah.
Is this your collection?
Yeah, I just thought you'd appreciate it.
You fought a war. Sure not the same war.
But, uh, it's a wonderful time capsule.
Takes you back to a time, a place.
Person?
My dad's.
It's his old, um, razor.
They sure don't make 'em like that anymore, huh?
No.
No, they do not.
They do not, which makes finding parts for them
hard as hell, I can tell you that.
But I got lucky the other day.
Yeah, you did.
Bingo. Bingo. That's better.
Lot better.
And cool as hell.
How much is something like that worth to a collector, you think?
Not much.
How about to you?
The steaks are burning.
Oh, yeah, yeah. I smell that.
Oh, good catch. Yeah.
I like mine medium-rare. Are you like a well guy?
Ah.
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man