Original subtitles

Annabelle Bonsard, 32 years old.

She was found in her car, destroyed by fire.

What happened?

Maybe she didn't set the heating on her car right?

No trace of monoxide in her lungs.

She was dead when the fire broke out.

Good for her.

And the autopsy revealed head trauma prior to death

based on lymphocyte concentration.

Someone hit her on the head and put her in his car.

And then that someone set fire to make it look like an accident.

What about this? What's this?

Metal, jewelry, melted rings, bracelets or necklaces.

And how do you know it's good...

Bonsard.

Annabelle Bonsard.

She looks more like forgotten toast in a toaster.

Maybe you can trust me for once?

I think what I see...

And I'm at the right height, so I'm enjoying it.

The body is that of a 30-35 year-old woman.

Annabelle Bonsard was 32.

He was found in his car, in his parking space.

And the technicians found his keys in the ignition.

(Music)

Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Bruand.

Captain Cain, Crime Squad.

I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.

If it'll help the investigation, of course.

Had you known Annabelle long?

15 years.

She was my best friend.

What was she like, physically, I mean?

She was a very beautiful woman.

Chestnut, about Sylvie's height, fair complexion.

She's changed a lot.

Was she in trouble?

Did she feel threatened?

No, she never said anything, no.

And besides you, did she have anyone in her life?

A man?

More than one.

More than one what?

Men?

Women?

Annabelle was a beautiful woman.

She loved life, she loved meeting people.

I'm convinced that she was a wonderful woman, that everyone

loved her, blah, blah, blah.

That's probably why she was killed.

And being nasty to witnesses is part of your job, isn't it?

Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Bruand.

I'll be in touch.

But we don't have to...

No, you mustn't.

The evidence provided by the coroner is largely conclusive.

Visual identification will not be necessary.

You avoid this show, it's also part of my job.

Is this it?

Did she recognize the victim?

What do you want her to recognize? A lump of coal?

I mean, I don't get it.

Witnesses have to recognize the body, that's the law.

The public prosecutor, the investigating judge,

they're bound to ask.

No problem.

I've come a long way since my accident.

What's all this?

A car, oil coming in through a hole and pollution

coming out of another pot.

Throwing cigarette butts out the window, I can't, I can't do everything.

What are you doing there?

I really wanted that tray!

Meeting at the victim's house.

SRPJ headquarters, go ahead!

Put me through to the lieutenant, Delambre!

I'll put you through to her mobile.

- Captain, yes? - Start without me, I've got something on the stove!

No, no, no, damn it, he saw the cell phone.

Good afternoon, sir. Turn off the engine, please!

I'm from the house, I'm on a wire here!

That's right, and I'm Omar Bongo.

No, it's not true, but I'm a fan of yours, Omar,

from the start!

Get out of your car!

Did you have a problem?

If you're asked...

Wow, she must have made a fortune.

She was a writer.

Thrillers, adventure novels under various pseudonyms

and she also wrote for others.

Negro.

Was she destined to end up like this?

Well, if it isn't Sylvie Machin, the best friend.

The other one must be Annabelle.

Empty boxes.

Empty boxes, empty box, empty shoeboxes.

Some women really like it.

Who need that, to...

to make love, I mean.

My mother's a gynecologist, she told me stories about women who

told her.

Of course they did!

Scented the garage.

Okay, Annabelle was writing, but not under her name.

She needed this.

And collected pictures.

Brothel everywhere and dreams of military order, I opt for a fascist lesbian.

Yeah, totally!

Do you know many people like that?

No, that's just it, I've never met one, I'd be interested.

The computer's locked, so I've called in an IT guy.

No way, I don't work with collecting morons.

Star Wars action figures, or who hit on 17-year-old chicks on the net.

I'll take care of it.

It's amazing the things you learn when you're stuck on a

hospital bed.

Well, off to the 40,000 revision?

You're coming, if there are slaps to be taken.

By the way, find out who owns the vehicle with license plate 20-16-TW-13, urgently.

And what does this have to do with the survey?

None whatsoever.

Lieutenant Lucie Delambre, criminal brigade.

You can't do that!

It's not love, it's obsession.

There's a difference.

Antonio Corvado, I presume?

Lucie Delambre, it's for you!

Lay him down, Lieutenant, he's just twice your weight!

Hold it right there.

Crap!

I know what you were doing before you joined the police force,

you were a man.

Corporal Delambre, 11th Airborne Brigade.

How are you?

I'm fine.

I was just imagining you in a little trellis, snug.

Relax, these things happen.

We get dumped, so we kill the pretty one.

Annabelle left me overnight.

It was a game to her, but I would never...

But I could never have done such a thing, blah, blah, blah.

But then, that hit-and-run

and the little scuffle I just witnessed,

was it for the pleasure of making out with the lieutenant?

But no, I...

With the hours, the stress...

I'm all for stimulants.

And what kind?

Speed, CC, MEF?

A bit of everything.

I thought that's what the descent was for.

OK, you're free.

Isn't that right?

No, it's not true.

In the hole.

I'll let you take your new friend home.

Then you'll pay a visit to the owner of the car,

whose contact details you will find.

And what should I look for?

Blood.

As always, blood.

For international handicap, I've already given.

Where did you find him, the lieutenant?

At the arms fair?

For buying a tank and a warhead, they gave you a gift girl.

Are you interested now?

Is his mother a friend?

No.

Did you sleep with his mother?

The gynecologist.

Did you cheat on Marianne?

That was before.

Her mother raised Lucie alone.

The kid was very borderline.

She enlisted in the army herself, thinking that if she

couldn't find a strict framework to keep herself from doing stupid things,

she'd end up...

OK.

So you thought, between two social cases, they should get along, right?

Where are you on the Annabelle Bonsard case?

Apart from a busy sex life, a messy closet

and a professional life consisting of abusing travelers who prefer

reading bullshit than looking at cows through TGV windows,

why do you ask?

In Commandant Moretti, there's Commandant.

And is it just because you're my boss, or would you like to help me

make sense of this?

You're handicapped, totally insane, and under administrative surveillance

by the DRPJ, who haven't yet decided whether you can carry out your duties normally.

I'll call you back, you really don't need any help.

This mania for helping me is unbearable.

You're welcome.

What the hell are you doing here?

I'm with the police.

Can you open your safe?

Can you open your trunk, ma'am, please?

If he sent me on a wild goose chase,

I'll break whatever legs he's got left!

Go on, go on, go on...

Letter Jacques...

“Jacques, my love, my love, I adore you,

I want to please you...”

6:30 p.m., rendezvous, 9 p.m., concert with Mathieu.

Delambre, he's your boss, yes, boss.

Why doesn't she answer?

Because she's already here.

You wanted to talk trunk?

No.

I'd like to know what the gynecologist's daughter thinks of this.

A miss for the lesbian?

She was a complete nympho, yes.

What's nympho?

A girl who gets laid more than the others?

You'll have to tell me about your hobbies one day.

Anyway, she was quite a collector.

We had one suspect, now we have ten.

Cool!

Otherwise it would have been a silly crime of passion,

crime of passion is boring.

You're still a suspect, but no longer number one.

And since we're on a budget, you're going out to dinner.

And her best friend Sylvie Bruand, what do you think?

She's not unhappy that Annabelle died?

What makes you say that?

I don't know.

She gets on my nerves.

Are you going to explain this trunk thing to me?

No, not tonight, I know you dream of possessing my big body

but I long only to look at the horizon and its tumult.

Ben?

Ben, is that you?

Damn, you scared me.

Are you all right?

What are you doing here?

You see, I'm in my room.

What's left of it.

I'm looking for photos to scan.

Really?

So you're all set, you're going to start decorating?

Yes.

Well, no.

Yes, well, it's all right, you can like photos without having a chimney

to put them up.

I was handsome, wasn't I?

You'd rather I'd died in the accident than end up

in this wheelchair?

Please don't do that again.

Are you planning a garage sale?

Ben, do you know what time it is?

You could call when you get home late.

She was pretty.

Yes, I'm fine too, thank you.

I'm not surprised, handsome as you are.

I knew you would.

I can see where I get it from.

Well, yes, come on, Ben.

Time for bed, go home.

- Hi, Dad. - Hi.

Hi, son.

Shit!

Captain?

Captain?

Did you sleep there?

Slept badly.

In the victim's bed?

But this apartment is under seal.

Allow me!

What?

It's not a crime scene, we're allowed to move objects around.

So, where did she put her coffee?

And you, what are you doing here?

You asked me to come last night.

I have some good ideas.

Will you take my coffee?

I went through everything last night.

Including the burning wire.

She didn't see much of anyone except her conquests,

and work came to her over the Internet.

All his novels are built on the same model.

A cynical, desperate, almost suicidal heroine.

A tendency to fuck and get high.

But deep down, she was completely corny.

Love, relationships, family, all that crap.

A girl who commits all kinds of excesses and secretly dreams of Prince Charming,

that's nothing new.

You'd think.

Do you read the psycho pages in women's magazines?

What's that got to do with it?

You'd know better than to say to a man, “You'd think you'd know”.

It's like talking while stroking your hair or laughing while eating peanuts.

It's a sign of submission.

We can't hide anything from you.

I'm totally impressed.

I dream of wearing a little outfit like that.

Do you think they're my size?

My hips are a little bit bigger.

How long have you been following me?

I'd like to ask you a few questions about your friend Annabelle.

What was she really after?

I don't know.

Just being happy?

Simply happy.

I'm not sure.

And why is that?

All these men she met, these roles she took on,

wasn't that a bit pathological?

And get married, buy a nice house.

And realize that after ten years, you'll end up with

the same furniture and the same man, isn't that pathological?

At least it's clear.

You, you would have liked to be in his place.

No, mine suits me fine.

Can I ask you to do me a little favor?

There are a lot of sidewalks to cross before I get to my car.

Could you help me?

I'm very happy to continue this little conversation with you.

I'm sorry, excuse me.

I'm no good at this.

You, on the other hand, haven't really answered me.

You didn't ask me a question.

You just implied that I was jealous.

I'd like to know how you can make such a statement.

Because I said so?

Yes, I did say that.

Not obvious, the chair?

Annabelle was my friend.

My best friend.

And you, were you really her best friend?

Can I leave you there?

I'm going to be late.

So, what did you find out?

An assassin's ass hair, perhaps.

Let me guess, he drove a white van?

Did he have any problems with his mother?

The fire was caused by gasoline.

The cause of the fire may be a leak, a spark or a match.

And you get paid for this?

By the way, Captain, I'd like to know...

What's up?

If you can bang your little expert during lunch break?

Sure, knock yourself out.

Plus, there must be plans for Pokémon cards.

This chest thing, why don't you ever tell me about it?

Yes, by the way, did you find anything?

No, nothing.

What are you waiting for, a report in triplicate?

Nothing.

Or not.

You're going to go through that safe again, but like a cop this time.

And you're taking your little expert with you.

Finally, you're right, he really is hot.

Blood.

All over the place.

Can you explain?

OK, then you'll do it at SRPJ.

Doctor Stuniar?

Yes, I know, I'm disturbing you.

But I need to know, Gesticalone Fluoresin,

Does that mean anything to you?

Natural derivative of a used molecule

to stimulate female fertility.

For the last time, where does the blood found in

the trunk of your car come from?

For the last time, why the cover

found in your trunk was full of dirt?

So, as things stand, we'll say you killed someone,

you took him to your trunk and buried him.

And since I have more to do than talk to myself,

you'll spend the first night in a cell and then we'll talk in the morning.

Come on, hop.

I have something important to tell you.

- Meet me at my place. - Your place?

Eden Rock Hotel, Corniche Kennedy.

Okay, I'm on my way.

- Good evening. - Good evening.

It's over there.

You actually have a head.

Did that game of Monopoly with your little expert go badly?

I beg your pardon.

May I ask why you summoned me?

I need to ask you a quick question.

Do you intend to have children one day?

Of course you do.

Would you like to make some with me?

I thought your flirting technique was to be obnoxious.

Okay, so you don't want to.

Why not?

Because I don't want to sleep with you

or with your spermatozoa, for example.

It's not enough to want a child to make one.

You also have to meet the man who has the necessary skills

to be a father.

Annabelle was undergoing treatment for infertility.

Even though she was single and having lots of affairs?

So that means she had her pick of lovers,

a father for her future child.

And who?

Exactly who?

Sylvie Bruand will tell us tomorrow morning.

You're acting like a child and hurting yourself, Dad.

Do you want to come for a beer with me?

Dad, I'm 16.

I still have to work and tomorrow I have class.

Don't you have, I don't know, a buddy for that?

Looking hard.

Come on, OK, go.

Come in.

Don't work too hard.

Good night, Dad!

Good night, son!

Mrs. Bruand doesn't seem to be here.

What do you think you're doing?

I'm hooking.

What's wrong?

Are you out of your mind?

I've got fingers like a fairy.

No one will notice.

Do you know what you're risking?

Article 29 of the Code of Judicial Procedure.

Five months in jail.

Are you going home or are you going to stand watch in case the police arrive?

Are you aware that we have no right to search here?

No, I'm glad you told me.

There are as many shoes here as there are empty boxes at Annabelle's.

Here, the suitcases are ready.

The borders will have to be closed.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

Captain, please.

Madame Bruand is pregnant?

Bingo!

A prescription for gesticalone fluoresin.

Better yet, a duplicate.

Come on, back to the medicine cabinet.

Nothing.

Did you do it quietly?

You send me a car to pick up Sylvie Bruand

and another for her little husband.

You've got to get them back to the SRPJ by the scruff of the neck, and above all...

I'll make sure they can't talk to each other.

In the meantime, you raid the Bonsard house

and bring me anything that looks like pills.

Capsules, tablets, everything!

Wait, you've been squatting there for days

and you haven't finished searching the apartment?

When you don't know what you're looking for, you can miss it.

What did you have planned for your vacation?

A safari in Kenya?

Rhino hunting.

Or wildcats, in Jakarta.

We went by your place this morning, your suitcases were packed.

You broke into our house?

I know the law, Captain.

Without a letter rogatory, it's going to cost you a lot of money.

We're typing it now.

But the secretary is rather slow.

And since she's a civil servant, we can't fire her.

Do you know what this is?

Those suitcases?

We often leave on a whim.

They're always ready.

Without telling your cop friend?

That's not nice.

I can't do without you.

Until the investigation's over, you're not moving.

It'll save you from marinating in an airplane or having sex in

a room that opens directly onto the hotel's air-conditioning system.

By the way, are you expecting a happy event?

We'd love to.

Is this yours?

Why did I find it at Annabelle's?

I sleep at her place sometimes.

I must have left a box there.

Of course you did.

I'm the same way.

I keep forgetting my fertility pills everywhere.

And, tell me, did Annabelle also want to have children?

What's so funny?

Just the idea of getting pregnant, she'd be too afraid that

her body would deform.

Did you hate her?

The sex, the writing, the mess...

You wish you could have lived like her.

But you're just a little bourgeois lady of principle.

You can't change your mind.

Bottle on top of closet, enough for six months' treatment.

Bring me the husband.

My dear brothers,

if I have gathered you together, it is because I tell you the truth,

I hate it when people make fun of me!

There's no trace of this drug in your home, Sylvie.

While Annabelle had enough to knock up a shot putter.

So now you're going to spill the beans

or I'll have you stuck in a drunk tank for 48 hours with the crack smokers.

You'll see, they schlong a bit at first, but deep down, they're really nice.

We've tried everything.

But Sylvie has some kind of psychological block.

That's good, Brother Paul.

Carry on!

So with Annabelle,

we passed a sort of...

She agreed to carry our child.

I thought she was afraid of deforming her body.

Lying is bad.

Very bad.

So Sylvie was prescribed fertility drugs,

was Annabelle taking them?

Why wasn't Annabelle prescribed her own medication?

The question may have been badly formulated, so I'll rephrase it.

Why didn't Annabelle prescribe her own medication?

Because it's against the law.

The law punishes surrogacy.

But of course, silly me!

The law...

It's a good thing no one knew about it.

Imagine if a cop had heard about this.

How did you plan to inseminate this little elephant?

Natural.

You mean with the... in the...

Yes.

That wasn't your first time.

You can explain.

Annabelle, Sylvie and I met in college.

And a long time ago, I had an affair with Annabelle.

Well, that was before...

before I got together with Sylvie.

So, did you get the two girlfriends?

But tell me, are we scoundrels underneath those clean-cut looks?

This is the 21st century.

Yes.

We've abolished the death penalty, but not jealousy.

Why didn't you keep Annabelle, Paul?

She threw you out.

Same as the others.

Too bad!

She looked a lot more fun than the other one with her blow-dry.

Is it my hand in the face you want, Captain?

No, not here.

I like my privacy.

In the meantime, we'll proceed like this.

You, Paul, let's say I forget

that you forgot to tell me about you and Annabelle.

And you, Sylvie, we're just going to charge you with the murder.

How's that?

Here you go!

Is that for me?

You shouldn't have.

That's too kind.

But read!

Please read the date on the ticket.

Sorry, I broke my glasses playing soccer.

We weren't in France when Annabelle died.

These are fake. Be careful.

There's more and more.

Next time, we'll have to talk to our lawyer.

Fred, you stop everything now. Come on, we need to talk.

Will you hold my bag, Lieutenant?

I'm going to dance.

No, don't tell me.

You spied on me behind the two-way mirror.

I was good, wasn't I?

Great!

Can you tell me what you're playing?

So you didn't follow everything.

Annabelle, Sylvie and Paul had made a pregnancy pact.

But Paul, the impregnator, fell in love with Annabelle all over again,

his ex, the impregnated one.

Then it's a classic case of jealousy, hatred, murder, blah, blah, blah...

Shall I continue?

So all you've got is a surrogate?

That the judge will dismiss.

Because you need evidence to put people in jail now?

Unless France has become China in the night.

I'll get you some, then.

No.

That's funny, besides being paraplegic,

I feel like I'm deaf.

That's enough bullshit, Fred.

It's bad enough they can screw us over for your break-in, now they can screw us over again.

The Annabelle Bonsard affair is over.

They have an airtight alibi.

Can you understand that?

You set them free.

What's the matter? Would you like a kiss?

The old lady you stuck in the hole for that car trunk thing,

she asks to see you.

I don't give a damn.

I'll bet.

Where is it?

Who is it?

Your man, Eric.

I'm sure he's here.

In my place, in my shower, eating with my TV tray.

Have you been drinking, Fred?

I haven't.

Just thinking.

You always told me to express my feelings.

Now I'm jealous.

I'm going to smash your man's face in.

Cut the crap, Fred.

You're going home.

Home? What do you call home?

Eric didn't take your place. It was free.

I remind you that you're the one who left.

Eric!

Are you all right?

Do you need anything?

Got your slippers, whisky?

Damn it, stop!

He's got two legs.

He must have an empty head.

In the end, your goal isn't to be happy.

It's to be sure that everyone suffers as much as you do.

Why do you stay here?

Why don't you get me a company apartment?

You wouldn't set foot in it.

Jules!

I have something to celebrate.

Until now, I've never known jealousy.

No.

Really?

Okay, not like that.

Now I know you can kill for that.

And it must feel good.

Are you thinking of Sylvie Bruand?

No, are you?

Jules!

She has an alibi, Fred.

But I don't give a damn about her alibi.

We accuse them, and then, as if on cue, she pulls out her

plane tickets.

Fred!

She oozes jealousy, bitterness, resentment.

His best friend is glad to be rid of him.

And as usual, you'll come and apologize to me.

Go to bed, it's late.

Can I come sleep over?

You're taking away my investigation, and I'm not allowed to sleep on your couch?

Last time it was supposed to be for two nights, it lasted two months.

My fiancée at the time ended up leaving.

Because she had a crush on me.

She was afraid of cracking.

You see, everyone's jealous of everyone else in this life.

And that's why we kill ourselves.

What the hell is this?

I didn't dare say it right away.

I know you're not allowed to bury an animal like that in the wild.

It was the neighbor's dog.

He trained it to scare me.

So, what breed is the dog?

Beauceron, about ten years old.

So you knew.

But how did you know?

It couldn't have been human, that moaning in the car.

I hope you've arrested this woman, and I hope she goes to prison for life.

Men should be killed, not animals.

What do you think of the Bonsard case?

The problem is the husband, Paul.

If Sylvie had killed Annabelle,

he'd have every reason to miss his mistress,

to hate his wife, or to be afraid.

But he seems very much in love, he's very thoughtful, very delicate.

Sylvie's not the guilty one.

That's not what I said.

But if I put myself in Paul's shoes, if I live with the murderer from

my mistress, the woman who bears my child...

- Would you like to do it solo? - No, I don't think so.

You've got a nastier idea in mind.

In fact, it's very good that Major Moretti released the Bruands.

They'll get scared, they'll let their guard down.

Of course they will.

You learn a lot in the marine commandos.

Airborne brigade.

All the same.

Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mrs. Bruand.

You're very welcome.

As I said on the phone,

it's not the first time Captain Cain has gone off the rails.

And this time, SRPJ management has decided to open an investigation.

Commander Moretti would really like to have your statement.

What does he risk?

Dismissal, divestment of all pending cases.

And if they persist in using these methods, then it'll be more serious.

Excuse me, do you have a pen?

Silly me, I've got one in my bag.

Thank you for this.

Goodbye, Mrs. Bruand.

Well done, Arsà ̈ne Lapin.

What did I win for this non-procedural seizure?

Another out-of-procedure job.

You're going to check whether the Bruands were really on the flight they used as an alibi.

You saw the plane tickets like I did, didn't you?

I don't give a damn about their tickets.

What I want to know is if they were on the plane during takeoff.

Thursday 7, Cours Julien.

Tuesday 12, esthetics 7, Harmonie.

Friday 15, Dr. Berger.

There's a link to contact here.

Doctor Berger, psychiatrist.

I deal with airplanes.

The shrink is perfect for you.

My mother was so tender with me.

Every morning she would prepare a bowl of gravel for me to eat breakfast.

And once a week, I was allowed to sleep inside the house.

And what else?

What can you tell me about Annabelle Bonsard and her relationship with Sylvie Bruand?

Professional secrecy.

Have you heard of it?

And the night at the niouf?

Sound familiar?

From what my patient told me during these sessions,

her friend Annabelle felt a kind of sick fascination for her.

She copied the way she dressed, did her hair and put on make-up.

At first, Sylvie thought it was funny.

It was even a kind of friendly game between them.

But gradually, she began to find it...

Creepy.

She had the impression that Annabelle didn't just want to look like her,

but to become her.

What's up?

I almost had to break the cabin attendant's fingers,

but he finally spit it out.

Two passengers were missing when the plane took off.

What about you?

Annabelle envied her friend Sylvie to the point of wanting to be like her.

Sylvie regularly talked to her shrink about it.

What do you think?

I don't get it.

Would you want to look like Sylvie Bruand if you were Annabelle Bonsard?

No.

Fred, what's all this about?

The file with Sylvie Bruand...

I want explanations immediately. This could get us into trouble.

You build a case like this on anything without any proof,

you come home immediately.

Ten minutes in the office, see you then.

Sylvie Bruand called SRPJ.

He understood about the fake file.

He's expecting us right away and he looks very upset.

Go on, run.

Aren't you coming?

I have an investigation to finish.

Will you report to me?

- The jewels. - What about the jewels?

During Annabelle Bonsard's autopsy, you found remnants of melted jewelry

on the body. But Annabelle wasn't wearing any.

I looked everywhere for them.

The test results just came in.

Great stuff!

Maybe I can wrap up this survey before I play soccer with my prostate.

Analyzing metals always takes a long time.

- You have to run them through chromatography. - Fascinating!

They weren't jewels, they were keys.

But there were also IUD remnants.

In very poor condition because of the fire, it was very difficult to identify.

An IUD?

Do that again and I'll poke your eyes out with a teaspoon.

Say that again and I'll marry you.

Can you tell me the good news?

Annabelle was undergoing treatment to stimulate her fertility.

Wearing an IUD at the same time doesn't make sense.

Exactly, it doesn't make sense.

Hello Annabelle.

What exactly is your thing, Captain?

Mushrooms?

Pastis?

No, the Cà ́te du Rhà ́ne.

And Moroccan on occasion.

Do you mind?

I admire you Annabelle, I'm a total fan.

You've imitated Sylvie's hairstyle, copied her style of dress,

worked on her voice and won back her dummy husband.

Hard work, a great career awaits you, but in 20 years.

When you get out of jail.

You're out of your mind.

I don't give a shit about your ass.

Where I have a problem is that you didn't just become Sylvie.

But you had to kill her too to take her place.

And that with her husband's complicity.

It's so stupid, this IUD thing.

Sylvie was so traumatized by the idea of getting knocked up that she

wore an IUD.

Too bad you forgot that little detail.

That's how I figured out it was her who was burned.

I don't understand Annabelle.

There are guys everywhere as handsome and tanned as Paul.

It was Annabelle I loved, Captain.

From the beginning, it was her and it will always be her.

I've come to understand that.

But Sylvie didn't want to know.

Besides, it was convenient.

If you rectify Sylvie's truffle, you've got it all.

Her house, the shack.

The child, Annabelle's church and the kiss from the creamer.

I deserved this life.

And no one else I deserved to be happy.

And not that insipid little bourgeois cunt.

Annabelle!

Come on, come on, we're in a hurry.

If I were you, Paul, I'd go alone.

Fucking siege.

She's out of her mind.

Plus, she writes like a fish.

I'm sure she can't cook.

Annabelle is dead.

She's dead, all she thought about was fucking, getting laid.

She had no future, nothing.

What took you so long?

I didn't want to get there before you got slapped around a bit.

Can I come and stay with you?

I love it when you're mean.

Come up with this kind of plan on your own.

SRPJ management will end up...

By laying me off?

I'm definitely going to end up crawling.

No, by lifting the administrative surveillance on you.

When I think you could have been killed.

But you're alive. And it was a nice investigation.

Well done, Fred.

I've never been praised for my service record, and that's not going to start today!

I have my pride!

That is...

to understand that Annabelle Bonsard had taken Sylvie Bruand's place...

I must say, not bad.

I hope I got that right.

What?

You're not sure?

Just kidding.