Elementary

Previously on Elementary...

You ruined my life. Gun!

A blood clot got wedged in his right subclavian artery,

obstructed the blood flow to his arm for about 30 minutes.

He may never regain full use of the limb.

This is about your guilt.

You're not directly responsible for what happened.

But this time your fondness

for blowing past bureaucratic guideposts

got a man you respect shot.

You may very well have saved my life.

I'd rather not see you around here.

Look at you, southpaw.

Well, life has changed, right?

At least nowadays most of the paperwork's on the computer.

Well, I made you some ready-to-nuke dinners.

Nothing fancy.

Baked ziti's about the extent

of my culinary skills.

Thanks.

That's really nice of you.

What did the doctor say about your hand?

He doesn't know.

It's only been a few weeks.

Physical therapy's helping,

but they still can't tell me

if the damage is permanent.

Well, you're back at work, that's good.

Yeah.

If you call, pushing papers around work.

Hey, you know they say that learning to write

with your other hand is good for the brain.

Builds new pathways, keeps you young.

Great.

So if this, trauma sticks around forever,

I'll have a really long time to enjoy it.

Marcus, do you think you...

need to talk to someone?

No, honestly, I think what I really need

is to talk less.

Thanks again for the food.

Okay?

All right, I'll see you later.

Don't trip the proximity sensor.

Actually, would you mind stepping back a couple of paces?

I'm feeling a little bit crowded.

Hey!

Are you crazy?

That's a half-million dollar car. Surely when

your employers hired you to test the security measures

they knew it would result in a little bit of wear and tear.

Wouldn't explain a foot in the door.

Well, they should be pleased.

Their system's obviously impregnable.

Actually, it's totally pregnable.

I beat it ten times today.

You got a lot on your mind.

All the stuff that happened with your buddy, the detective.

Is utterly irrelevant to breaking into a car.

Obviously.

In terms of my actions on the case

which resulted in Detective Bell's injury,

I was completely in the right.

I've reviewed every decision I made.

Every inflection point in the investigation.

And it is indisputable from any rational cost benefit analysis

that I did everything correctly.

So, why can I not move on?

Why does the matter persist in buzzing away

at my most precious commodity,

my concentration?

Maybe we should head for a meeting.

I came here tonight, not as your sponsee,

but as a friend and colleague

whose vocation creates certain overlapping interests.

Besides I think this is what I need tonight.

Fine.

But tomorrow, we're hitting a meeting.

Allegations continue to mount that Donald Hauser,

trusted money manager to New York's elite,

may, in fact, have been running a decades-long pyramid scheme.

Sources inside the SEC confirm

that they're now scrutinizing Hauser's private hedge fund,

which seemed to yield consistent annual returns

of 12% or more.

Thanks to the work

of independent journalist Rosalie Nuñez,

who first sounded the alarm,

we may now discover those returns were all lies.

If so, Hauser will be looking at criminal charges

that could put him behind bars for the rest of his life,

while hundreds of his investors will absorb the news

that their life savings have vanished.

Neither Hauser nor anyone at his firm

responded in time to comment.

Stocks were relatively flat today, as analysts...

God!

Wait.

I was about to kill myself.

Please.

What's done is done.

I know. That's what I want to talk about.

Good morning to you, as well...

Donald, it's me.

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

Well, someone had some anger to work out.

Steal a few hundred million dollars

of other people's money,

somebody's bound to get ticked off.

So, who found him?

Personal chef. She came in,

said the alarm system was off, and the TV was on.

She's here in the kitchen.

Miss, Butler?

Miss Butler, this is Joan Watson.

Sorry to meet under these circumstances.

Thank you.

Miss Watson and her partner there, Mr. Holmes,

consult for the department.

So, you are a personal chef?

Mr. Hauser was a client for a long time.

I prepared meals for him at my house

and-and brought them here a few times a week.

You any idea

who might want to hurt Mr. Hauser?

Oh, with what's been going on in the press, plenty of people.

What-What's he doing?

He, has a process.

Captain?

Would you excuse me?

I take it the victim's gun was found here?

Yeah, by the first

uniforms on the scene. Registered to Hauser.

However, different caliber

than the casings we found on the floor.

Figured Hauser tried to defend himself.

Never got a shot off.

I can assure you Mr. Hauser did not pull his gun

in self-defense. At least,

not at first. Rather,

he was about to commit suicide

when he was very rudely interrupted.

The handgun was stored here in this drawer.

Whoever removed it bothered to close the drawer

when they were done.

This is a very unlikely action on anyone's part

during the middle of a heated home invasion.

No. Mr. Hauser's gun was out before the killer entered.

The whiskey... Glen Lochaber,

1926, single cask, aged for 55 years.

Yum. Only 100 bottles ever produced.

Probably set Mr. Hauser back about $10,000.

This is the proverbial good stuff, and,

judging by the ring of dust

where it usually sat on his bar,

he kept it for only the very rarest of occasions.

Miss Butler

said the television was on

when she entered.

We all know what story dominated the news last night.

Hauser himself was sitting, watching

as he filled his glass to the very brim.

No longer any point in saving it.

Lastly...

...gun oil on the roof of his mouth.

The irony of ironies.

Our killer arrived just in time

to stop Mr. Hauser from shooting himself.

So, what? Killer just wanted to squeeze in some torture first?

Probably not as satisfying as getting his or her money back,

but I suppose you take what you can get.

Oh. According to this article,

there could be over a thousand people that were affected

by Donald Hauser's pyramid scheme.

I'd say our works cu it for us, wouldn't you?

Actually, I've got a rather good idea of where I'd like to start.

The chef, Chloe Butler. Why?

You not see how nervous she was

when we were interviewing her?

Her haptics were practically screaming

that she was hiding something.

Well, she just found

the mutilated corpse of her boss.

Her alibi left something to be desired, as well, no?

Well, just because she said she was home alone

during the time of the murder doesn't mean she did it.

Nor does it mean she didn't.

Obviously, there's no shortage of other suspects,

but Miss Butler seems like a worthwhile place to start.

You saw Detective Bell last night, did you not?

Yes, I did.

And?

He's better. He's riding a desk for now,

but, um, at least he's up and around.

As a matter of fact, I promised I'd run a few errands for him.

I will be back in a bit. If I'm not here,

I will be at the station, reviewing case files.

I will text you if I identify Mr. Hauser's killer

all by my lonesome.

I am sorry about this morning.