All language subtitles for Monsieur.Spade.S01E03.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb

Six dead nuns.
No one's innocent.

Have you seen Teresa?

Did you do this?

How could I?
We're not allowed up here.

She didn't want me to hate you
for what you did to my father.

Get down.

Who is this kid

that someone would kill
six people to find him?

I worked
for Gabrielle LaVarone.

Oh. As what?
As a gardener?

More like her housekeeper.

Tell me your name again.

Samuel Spade.

Ah.

How ridiculous.

My mother liked it.

A whore, no doubt.

Maybe we'll leave
my mother out of this

and focus on you and me.

Yes.

You and me
and this kid, then,

the one that's
supposedly mine.

This has nothing
to do with her.

Okay.
So, do tell me,

what keeps you on Le Trou?

- Le what?
- Le Trou.

The hole, this place.
You stay here long enough,

you'll see how
inevitable the name is.

I can see that just by
looking out of the window.

Mm.

But you don't see everything.

Meaning?

Sometimes,
when the sun is just so...

you stand at the top
and you look down

and the river and the houses
are all gone, disappeared.

One day when I was a child,
the darkness was so thick

that I rode with my boat
right over to La Cascade.

I miss that boat.

I would row
in the river every day.

You understand
what I'm saying?

Not really, but then
I was too busy wondering

what day you might
finish talking to listen.

Mm. I speak in metaphor.

So all that yap about
shadows and waterfalls

is really about
your unhappy childhood.

Ah...

You Americans
understand nothing.

Fuck a Frenchwoman
in a French bed and...

you'll learn
all you need to know.

I don't think you and I are
having the same conversation.

Of course we are.

Then you're either
really dumb

or you're trying
to provoke me,

which also
makes you really dumb.

Or you're just
what everybody says you are.

Handsome?
Devil-may-care?

Whatever you are and whatever
you want me to think you are,

you're not drunk,
you're not bored,

and you're
not at all interesting.

So you can knock off
the bug act

and listen
to what I have to say.

I promise to be quick so you
can get back to your sulking

and I can get back
to the States,

where people don't butter
their fucking fruit.

You're just an American
private copper,

which in France, gives you
about the same legal authority

as a rat catcher.

In my case, the two jobs
are one and the same.

Relax,
I'm not gonna shoot you.

That's 500,000 francs.

500,000?

- That's a lot of francs.
- A whole lot.

What am I supposed
to do with it?

Buy yourself a new boat

and row yourself
the fuck out of here.

Where would I go?

I hear Norway needs
more assholes.

I grew up here.

I still have great
love for Bozouls.

Sadly,
one that's unrequited.

What about the others?

The neighbors
whom I care so much about?

What about 'em?

Will they also
bring me envelopes?

No, they will not.

Consider this a gift from
everyone on your little list.

This is the grand total
of what you're gonna get.

And what if
I choose to stay?

The bottom of that hole
is a long way down.

Metaphorically speaking.

I'm not a man
to be threatened.

If you think
I'm threatening you,

then whosever that it
was taught you English

didn't know a threat
from a promise.

Please...

convey my "No, thank you"
to Madame LaVarone

and all the carrots.

I've asked for what I deserve
and will accept nothing less.

Philippe...

you're not the worst
I've dealt with,

not by a country mile.

- I just want you to know that.
- Mm.

Good luck with finding
a home for the girl,

Mr. Spade.

- As-salamu alaykum.
- Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.

No.

The point of
the story is

he wasn't sorry
for walking out on his life.

That seemed reasonable
enough to him.

After all, a man's nearly
killed by a falling beam,

makes him stop and think.

Usually the first thing
that comes to mind is run.

But years later, when I saw him
with his second wife,

he couldn't see
how he'd settled back

into the exact same life
he'd run away from.

And I bet that's the part
of the story you like best.

The man adjusted himself
to beams falling

and when no more
of them fell,

he adjusted himself
to them not falling.

You're very smart
for someone so rich.

I guess I'm lucky
there's so little construction

in Bozouls.

Because I think
what you're really telling me

is that you might, without
warning, leave me at any moment.

I'm telling you
it's possible.

Well, we have something
in common, then.

Only, I'm certain
that I'd leave you.

I'm also certain
that I won't be much of a wife

or be able to commit to anything
beyond the end of the day.

The word forever being perhaps
the most absurd of all words.

To me, at least.

You're ill.

You can see that?

Not at all.
Philippe told me.

At the airport, right before
I put him on the plane.

I thought he had to be lying,

because, of course,
the last thing you look is ill.

That's because I'm not.

At least not at the moment, anyway.

I was, not that long ago.

But I beat it.

Or so they like to tell you.

So I might leave you one day.

- You might leave me one day.
- Mm.

Sounds like every love story
I've ever heard.

We got a meeting with the bishop
at four o'clock.

Why?

Six dead monks,
if I had to guess.

Want to come along?

As long as no one
asks me to confess.

Lovely day for a swim, eh?

Ah!

What do you think?

- Nice frame.
- Ah. Thank you.

Uh, I thought I'd surprise him
and hang the painting.

There is a perfect spot
in the library.

Right then.
Thank you.

Oui.

Hey!

No?

Oui.

My confirmation name
is Sebastian.

Every other boy
chose Jean or Marc.

But I chose Sebastian.

I said they were
Cupid's arrows.

I was trying to be ironic.

Not easy to do
at age 12.

Maurice...

Samuel Spade.

- New York City.
- My condolences.

The monk.
He's been found.

- Where?
- Inside the Rhodes Cathedral.

Doing what,
lighting a candle?

Bleeding, mostly.
From a knife wound.

Thank you.

The boy.

They want the boy.

To which boy do you refer,
Mr. Spade?

The Church wants him.
They want him so bad

they'll overlook a few dead nuns
to get him.

Oh, Mr. Spade, now even you
can understand

that there's matters of Church
and there's matters of State.

A distinction the Church makes
only when it suits them.

I'll do my best
and I'll take that as an insult.

For some,
the truth is an insult.

You just seem
unable to help yourself.

You can wait
as long as you want

for your back-flogging
friend to wake up,

but he's not gonna be
of much use to you.

He already lost the kid

before he took
a blade to his kidney.

Mr. Spade, do you have
any specific information

you want to share?
- I just did.

Let's go.

Well, you kept
your cool, Patrice.

Please.

You may have not
raised your voice,

but you still poked him
as hard as I did.

I just like to shake the tree
to see what falls out.

Except, my reckless
American friend,

shake a Roman tree and you get
a face full of bird shit.

Mr. Spade, Commandant.

The monk's name
is Friar Angelo.

I believe that he was
sent to Bozouls by

Agnes Omnipotence,
it's some secret society--

Wait, there's a secret society
inside the Vatican?

- Yeah.
- Shocking.

Yeah.
Who knew, right?

That's why
they sent me here to help

ferret out all the fanatics.

As you can imagine, it hasn't
been going very easy for me.

Like finding a needle
in a needle stack.

Look, I don't blame you
for not trusting me.

I really don't.

But you and me,
we're on the same side.

If you follow.

Okay.

So we can now add the Americans

to the list of people
that were chasing the kid.

A little loud,
don't you think?

What are you doing?

I need something to wear,

so I thought I'd see if any
of Gabrielle's things would fit.

This was your room before.

Our room, yes.

Why don't you sleep
in here anymore?

I never liked the view.
I prefer to see the sunset.

Did you buy her this dress?

Gabrielle didn't need me
for things like that.

Ah, she had exquisite taste.

In everything but men.

How come there
are no photographs

of Gabrielle's
first husband?

The marriage ended badly.

- Did he beat her?
- Her, no.

Okay, let's play a game,
you and I.

It's called,
"I won't lie to Sam."

Doesn't sound like
much fun.

And the rules are
I ask you a question

and you answer without lying,
if that's even possible.

How does one win this game?

Well, that's the thing, you
can't win, you can only lose.

- What do I lose?
- Your self-respect.

Question number one.

Did Philippe tell you
where the boy came from?

Algeria.

- Anything more specific, a town?
- No.

Papa said the boy was rich,
or his family was.

- See how easy this is?
- You're not a nice person.

I like to think
I grow on people.

Question number two.
Did he mention a family name?

No.

Question three. Did this rich
family hire Philippe

to bring the kid
over to France?

Not sure about that one.

Papa said he was being paid
to take care of him.

What, they hated
the boy that much?

What?

Never mind.
Question number four.

After leaving the boy
at the convent,

did Philippe tell you
where he was going next?

- You already asked me that one.
- You already lied.

This is your shot
at redemption.

I wasn't lying.

I don't know where he went.

He was coming back.

And you know this how?

Stop the fashion show
and answer me.

I know that he's close by.

Why, because
you're so important to him?

No, because Zaid is.

Take off
your jacket and sit down.

- Oh, right.
- Katrine.

I need a favor.

Which I will listen to right
after I listen to your chest.

Audrey Saint-Andre is
a patient of yours, is she not?

Sit down.

Cough.

Is she...

Did we not agree
that the smoking would stop?

Agree?
No, you insisted, I equivocated,

told you
what you wanted to hear.

I'm telling you,
quit or die.

There's that adorable tenderness
you French are so famous for.

You prefer
I beat around the bush?

When me dying
is on the table, yes.

You've never struck me as
a man who yields to temptation.

Where is your famous
willpower?

I try to quit.

I just keep finding cigarettes
between my fingers.

Try harder.

I'm gonna have
those words painted

on the ceiling of my bedroom.

Is Audrey a patient?

Everyone in this town is,

from birth to burial,

though in Audrey's case,
she was also my nurse

and quite a good one.

I'm sure she
and her shotgun

had a terrific
bedside manner.

Why are you curious
about Audrey?

Is she due
for an exam anytime soon?

No.

Can you come up with a reason
why you have to see her?

Why would I?

I need to find Philippe.

Knowing that jackal,

he has long since crept
into the underbrush.

Maybe,
but if he were to hear

that something
had happened to Teresa,

he might show himself.

Like what sort
of something?

Like her being shot.

You want me to lie
to his mother

to say that Teresa was hurt?

Not hurt, shot.

Hurt can mean anything

between stubbed her toe
and fell out of bed.

Shot can only mean shot.

You presume Audrey
cares about the girl.

I presume she speaks
to her son.

And you presume
he cares about the girl.

His reasons might not be
the most paternal,

but Philippe has a real interest
in keeping her healthy.

I will go to Audrey

and check her blood pressure,
which is very high.

And while I'm there,

perhaps the subject
of the girl will come up.

Be sure to subtly drop
into the conversation

that she's staying
at my house.

I am always subtle.

Like a ball-peen hammer.

Sometimes what's best
is to keep the bodies buried.

Often death is the best cure,
often a relief.

They teach you that bit of
"deepitude" in medical school?

Buchenwald.

Monsieur Spade...

Oui.

- Do you mind?
- I'm speaking to a lawyer.

Seriously, Jean-Pierre,

I prefer to be harassed
on a full stomach.

Gabrielle trusted me.
She believed in me.

That was before
you stole from her.

That is only a sliver
of the whole truth.

Try me.

When I was 16,
I was in love with her.

A ridiculous thing to say,
but I was.

Not ridiculous at all.

Not when we're talking
about Gabrielle.

But she was your aunt.

Not by blood.
I called her aunt,

but Gabrielle and my mother
were close friends.

Only friends.

- She never told you this?
- No.

So, she never told you
that they met at Charenton?

The hospital?

The asylum,
where my mother was a cook

after she divorced
my father.

Why was Gabrielle there?

She was admitted
right after Jacques died.

You really didn't know this?

No, we never really
talked about Jacques,

apart from the fact
that he was dead

and how he got that way.

She wasn't the same
afterwards.

And now you're gonna tell me

you don't think
she was in her right mind

when she made her will.

The possibility,
my lawyer says.

Which is legalese
for "tough to prove,"

especially since
Jacques died

eight years
before I even got here.

I was on leave,

glad to be back in Bozouls,
excited to see Gabrielle,

but there you were,
living in her house.

She wasn't
the same with me.

Bullshit.
I don't buy that you came home

and got so jealous of me
that you stole from her.

I needed the money
to get myself out of the army.

I was desperate not wanting
to go back and fight.

Philippe knew a colonel

who, for a price,
could get me discharged.

That sounds like Philippe,

helping out a childhood pal
for a price.

But you didn't have
to steal from Gabrielle.

She would've given you
whatever you needed.

She also would've forgiven me
for my mistake,

one I have paid for.

Then don't make another one.

You have a wife at home

who is trying
to find a way back to you.

That's something.

No, Marguerite
has moved on.

She doesn't want to admit that,
she doesn't want to hurt me,

but she doesn't feel
the same as I do.

So, I must go away.

But not before I can make sure
my wife is taken care of by me.

So, this is all
just for her?

For both of us.

You must be drunk
if you think

I'm just gonna hand over
the vineyard to you.

Ha, that's not
the kind of man you are.

In fact, when I first saw
Gabrielle in your arms,

I thought someone like you--Someone like me, what?

Couldn't really love
someone like Gabrielle?

The other way around.

Look, Spade, I just want
to know my rights and--

You don't have any.

If I have none,
I will accept that I have lost.

I will leave Bozouls.

But at least
I will know what is true

instead of simply
accepting your version.

And if you do have
a legitimate claim?

I will ask
that you give me a fair price

and I will still leave.

I'm not gonna
fight you anymore.

If I want you dead,
I just have to wait.

And, from what I can see,
the wait won't be long.

Bon appétit.

Simon?

No.
Mm-hmm.

I remember meeting you.

We were in a room
that was very hot.

I was dizzy
and could barely breathe

but you wouldn't look at me.

After that, all of a sudden,

I was on an airplane next
to you.

Istanbul is pretty hot
that time of year.

What was I doing there?

Only your mother
can fill you in on that.

All I was told
is where to find you.

The money in my trust fund,

how did she have so much?

Your mother had
a nose for antiques.

My father?

He had a nose
for people's weaknesses.

- He stole the antiques?
- And worse.

I hope he never comes back.

Well, that's
a swerve in attitude.

I wanna live here.

With your own Coke and
a bottomless bottle of brandy?

Who could blame you?

I wanna live here with you.

That's an even
bigger swerve.

Atta girl.

Give me your best of outlook,
don't say a word,

and maybe I'll fall
for this bullshit.

Why should I say anything?
You don't believe me when I do.

That's because you lie the way
other people blink or inhale.

It's automatic.

And I'm afraid, when the convent
reopens, you're going back.

- No, I won't.
- You don't have a choice.

- When I'm 18, I will.
- But you're not 18.

When I get that money,

I'm leaving
this stupid little town.

If that's what you want.

Maybe I'll go back
to San Francisco

and find out
a few of your secrets.

Hello?

Somebody took
a shot at Teresa?

Philippe?

I had
nothing to do with that.

No, but you pulled her
into your bullshit.

Is the boy with you?

You want to have
a real conversation?

Knock on my door.

Nine o'clock, the cemetery.

The cemetery?
Are you fucking kidding?

You missed your chance...

to shoot me.

Oh...

it's no Van Gogh,
but it's not that bad.

Gabrielle would have.

If this is about
your raise...

Helena?

Someone's in the house.

Helena?

Ah!

Ah.

The girl.

Sit.
We're not to intervene.

[Screams] Mr. Spade!

♪ I'm gonna ask you
some questions,

and every time
you don't answer,

I'm going to kick you
in the head.

Sound good?

I'm so glad you could
join us for a meal.

After what I saw
floating in your pool,

I'm a bit twitchy.

Just glad I could help.
Knock it off,

and tell me
what's going on.

We all pretend,
Mr. Spade.

You have many enemies.

- Did someone get lost?
- Apparently so.