All language subtitles for Maigret.2022.NORDiC.1080p.BluRay.DD5.1.x264-YOLO.eng

Just a moment, I’m coming.

It’s better like that.

You’d need some accessories.

You can get dressed.

Does this feeling of tiredness occur often?

At the present time, yes.

Is it mental or
physical fatigue?

Well...

And being out of breath?

After some exertion...

like running for a bus...

or climbing stairs.

Do you sleep peacefully?

What do you think?

How’s your appetite?

I eat.

But you’ve no interest in food?

That’s right.

Just to satisfy hunger?

That’s all.

You need to get some rest...

Or bring your retirement forward, eh?

Well, your blood pressure’s a bit high,
but at your age...

Your bronchial tubes seem clogged,
so I’ll arrange an x-ray.

In the meantime,

I’ll ask you
to make a huge sacrifice.

You need to stop smoking.

- Cheers, my love.
- Here’s to you.

Come and I’ll introduce you.

- Champagne?
- Thanks, I already have one.

Robert!

My pleasure!

This is Jeanine.
We were talking about you.

Lovely to meet you, Robert.

This is Jeanine.

Congratulations.
You’re terrific.

- Are you well, dear?
- Marvelous, mother.

See you again soon.

Where did that dress come from?
I didn’t invite you.

Go make a scene somewhere else.
Do you want to ruin my party?

- So why are you here?
- Don’t!

- It’s all over?
- Yes, she’s leaving.

- Right away! Go on!
- I’ll take care of it.

What is it you want?

Money?

That’s it, is it?
Haven’t you been given enough?

Take this, and fuck off!

Yes, come in.

We won’t get anything
out of him tonight.

Lapointe will try the ditty.

With that guy,
it could go on till morning.

Will I get some sandwiches?

As you wish, Janvier, but I’m going home.

What if he confesses, chief?

Take him down to the cells.

Police emergency,
I’m listening.

Close her eyes.

No sort of identity on her.

She’s been stabbed several times.

Weapon not found. We’re doing
a thorough search of the area.

- Who called emergency?
- We don’t know.

He or she broke the call-box
without a word.

Begin a thorough survey
of the neighborhood.

Has the department
been notified?

It’s being attended to.

Did you have dinner, at least?

Oh, I don’t know anymore.

Go back to sleep.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

I’ll have it outside.

You OK?

Yeah.

- Don’t catch cold.
- No, everything’s OK.

Inspector Maigret?

I’m the witness.

Your inspector told me
to come and see you.

I live at number 5, over there,
just across the square.

A bit after midnight,
I’d just gone to bed.

I heard a car stop.

Sounded like a big classy motor.

Then two doors,
opened and closed,

and the boot as well.

The car left again,
I’d say...

5 to 10 minutes later.

That was it.

Poor girl.

So young.

The female victim,
Caucasian, was a minor,

20 years old at the most.

Healthy, but undernourished.

There are 5 stab wounds,

in the chest and abdomen.

Their depth indicates
a slicing or carving knife.

The attacker is likely left-handed,
given the angle of the incisions.

The blows were given in
a haphazard way, at close range.

They’re the apparent cause of death.

“Apparent”?

Cervical rupture
and pulmonary morbidity.

I’ve asked for
further autopsy.

The body has no other
external signs of abuse.

At what time would she have died?

Not easy to establish.

The stomach is almost empty.

Probably between 10 pm and midnight.

Before midnight, anyway.

A passerby,
perhaps the murderer himself,

warned police-emergency
at 12.33.

Nothing indicates the attack
took place on the spot.

The lividities don’t match
the body’s position.

It means that it was
moved or transported after death.

Exactly.

You started studying medicine.
Why did you stop?

To earn my crust.

In the police force?

That or something else...
It was just chance.

I discovered
a white fibre of fabric

attached to a fingernail
on the left hand.

Maybe a white sheet had
been used to wrap the body.

That’s not all...

She’d absorbed a good dose
of strong alcohol.

She was in an advanced state
of intoxication.

Considering the neighborhood,
she could’ve been a bar-hostess.

This kind of girl doesn’t drink...

She makes you drink.

The kind that sleeps
with the customers?

Who may be available.

She was no longer a virgin.

But before her death,
she’d had no sexual intercourse...

either forced
or consensual.

I’d like to see her.

If you wish,
but she hasn’t been closed up.

You no longer smoke a pipe.

How do you feel?

Stark naked.

Feeling better?

I’m sorry... that smell...

You’ll get used to it.

I’ve got Janvier.

No missing person notices correspond.

Nor in the papers.

Lucas is busy with
the clubs and bars in the district.

Focus on taxi drivers...
on those who work nights.

- Where are we going?
- H.Q.

- The murder weapon?
- Hasn’t been found.

Careful, or you’ll break your briar.

I had a thought.

Do you remember
the lady-killer of Monceau?

We never caught him.

Nope.

Monceau is not far from Batignolles.

How did he kill his victims?

Strangled with a wire.

And now?

Now, no.

But he might have wanted
to change his method...

Nothing much
to tell us anything.

No fingerprints
or traceable dust.

Hardly anything in her bag.

Handkerchief, cheap lipstick.

Her underwear is ordinary,
Uniprix or similar.

Imitation pearl earrings.

Her shoes are good quality,
but well-worn.

None of that fits in
with the evening dress.

Why not?

Different category altogether.

Haute couture. Top label.

It’d be worth a small fortune.

It’s certainly one of ours.

“Evening Dream”.

A pre-war model.

The 1937 winter collection.

1937...

How sad for it
to be damaged!

If it was only the dress!

Would you know who ordered it?

She would have been
very well-off.

It’s impossible to trace
every one of our clients.

But according to
the measurements...

the head of our workshop
could remember something.

Could I talk to her?

Alas, she died.

Just a month after she retired.
Isn’t that amazing?

Open it, but you might be disappointed.

Why a 20 year old girl wear a dress
that could have been her mother’s?

What girl?

Exactly, I don’t know.
I don’t know anything about her. Nothing.

Not even her name.

I made fricandeau with sorrel.
Alright with you?

Just a taste.
I’m not hungry.

Do you remember our first date/
That society ball.

“Evening dress required”.

I was feeling awkward, I know.

But when I saw you in your
bad suit and crumpled tie,

I said to myself, “Here’s someone
at least as clumsy as I am.”

Well I had the pretty blue dress
that I’d rented.

There are shops for that,
like for tuxedos.

Why would she have
rented a dress?

Well, Inspector...

How awful!

Your inspector didn’t tell me anything.

We don’t reveal
this sort of news over the phone.

- What was her name?
- I was going to ask YOU.

I forgot to ask her.

She was in a hurry.

She needed an evening dress,
as if her life depended on it.

Oh, sorry.

In this neighborhood,
last minute customers

are artists,
or girls who scored themselves a punter.

- She could have been one?
- Her? No, not at all.

She was so fragile...

A bird fallen from its nest.

Where was she going
with that dress?

Apparently, she hoped to find someone.

Someone?

Someone who could help her.

Materially, anyway.

She didn’t even have enough
to pay for the rental.

She left me her things.

She’d get them back
when she returned the dress.

I waited for her
the next day, but...

You’re one of the last people
to have seen her alive.

I would have liked
to see her alive again.

What was she like?

Pretty, very pretty...
Pale skin, brunette with a fringe.

What I meant was...
What stood out about her?

She looked lost.
Not from around here.

The girl from nowhere.

And she had that adorable gesture
of twiddling with her hair...

like a child who is afraid
of being scolded.

These girls,
they come from their province...

dreaming of an artistic career,
or having a beautiful wedding...

and end up as domestic workers...

or in another sort of establishment,
or on the street.

Trocadero 08-40?

Hello, Madam.

I’m sorry, Mademoiselle.

Could you tell me your name?

It’s me calling you, yes.

I am going to tell you,
but first I need-- Hello?

Really good!
Besides, I was starving.

Aren’t you eating?

Never while I’m drinking.

Can I pour you
some Pouilly, Betty? Here.

That’d be nice.

There you are.

Betty’s an unusual name.

My real name’s Marie.
I wanted a change.

Where are you from?

Romans-sur-Isere.

Oh, I know it.

No kidding?

Famous for shoes.

Yes. Both my parents
work at the factory.

I had a job waiting for me...
but spend your life making shoes?

No, thanks.

I only had one dream – to go up to Paris.

“We’ll see when you come of age“
said my father, so...

I took the train the morning I turned 21.

Without telling your parents?

Not anyone.

If I were your father,
I’d wonder where you are...

what you did during the day,

did for a living,
who you hung out with.

Why don’t you
tell them anything?

You’re full of questions!

People tell me that.

What did you hope for
when you came to Paris?

To be free...

Do what I wanted...
meet interesting people, read,

to visit museums.

Steal from stores?

Does telling you about my life
interest you?

It helps me a little,
to understand.

Understand what?

A girl like you.

There are lots of girls
like me in Paris.

Souls in torment,
who are in a whirl.

I spot them straight off.
I feel sorry for them.

I’d like some dessert.

The Tatin tart is very good.

- Shall we share one?
- No, I don’t like sweets.

The young lady
will have the Tatin.

Still nothing for you?

No thanks, Arlette.

You’re not having anything, Inspector?

Inspector...?

Police?

Maigret, CID, 36 quai des Orfevres.

Someone wanted to get rid
of this unknown girl.

But she must have left traces,
around here, somewhere...

however tenuous.

Like blinking lamps.

Crime all the time... day and night.

You have to protect yourself.
Don’t be insensitive...

but keep the right distance
till you know where you stand.

In the long run, it’s necessary
to create a shell for yourself.

One day, during a trivial affair,
you’ll get to know why.

You’re struck by some detail...

A wallpaper pattern, say...

a plush toy...
a sentence... a look...

And then,
all your certainties suddenly collapse.

You become a little child again,
who’s afraid of the dark.

Depositions to be signed
for the prosecutor’s office .

They need to be deferred.

I’ll leave them with you.

We finally located the pharmacy.

The little bottle
in the girl’s bag.

Lapointe’s going there.
He’ll report back.

No, I’ll go myself.

Yes, I didn’t write down her name,

but she had no prescription.

It is a derivative of laudanum,
quite powerful.

But you sold it to her?

I’d seen her around the neighborhood.

She always looked... I don’t know.

- Lost?
- Yes, lost.

One evening she came here...
She was suffering.

From what?

Insomnia, nerves, anxiety.

She’d come back for some more of the product,
and I never saw her again.

No doubt she’s better.

No doubt.

Is this medication
compatible with alcohol?

Not at all.
It amplifies the side-effects.

Drowsiness, loss of balance...

Did you advise her not to drink?

I didn’t think
that a girl that young...

She didn’t do anything
wrong, I hope?

Her... no.

You said that she lived
in the neighborhood?

Fine. Thank you.

Don’t mention it.

There’s no shortage of young women.
I’ve 6 floors.

3 apartments per floor,
not counting the maid’s rooms.

She sleeps badly...
she likely gets up late... she eats little.

She doesn’t go shopping, much.

She’s a girl who looks sad.

The kind no one notices.

She most likely lives alone.

She plays with her hair like this.

That could be the little girl
who lives in 6D.

- I don’t even know her name.
- You neither?

Well, no... She never gets any mail.

And it’s not her from the start,
who’d rented the room.

Perhaps she’s up there right now.

Do you have a duplicate key?

Uh... yes.

I don’t feel like
climbing 6 floors.

That’s quite alright,
I won’t need you.

Has the girl who lived there, left?

Yes.

Are you the landlord?

Sometimes I heard her
crying, behind the wall.

Even when she wasn’t crying
she seemed sad.

- Thank you.
- Happy to oblige.

Felicie Bonnec, I work for Gaulliers.

You didn’t tell me
what you wanted with her.

No, I didn’t tell you.

She’s dead, murdered.

That’s not possible!

- Up there?
- No, not up there.

Was she friends with anyone
in the building, a neighbor?

Her? No way.

Always alone.

Alone and withdrawn.

Who had rented the room originally?

Another girl, Jeanine.

That one went out a lot,
stinking of perfume...

That someone was paying for,
if you get my meaning.

She could
come and go at night.

She left, leaving the other girl,
who didn’t pay her rent.

Dead? We were going to evict her.

Well, that’s done..

The first tenant, this Jeanine,
have you seen her again?

She comes to pick up
her mail sometimes.

Chief, it’s Janvier.

I traced the number you gave me.
Trocadero 08-40.

It belongs to Jeanine Armenieu.

It looks like she’s working on
a film at the Billancourt studios.

Don’t bother, it’s a set.

Everything’s fake here.

Do I have an appointment
with you?

Jeanine Armenieu?

Here I’m Nadine d’Arcy.

Sorry, I was trying out
for a movie.

- Are you the star?
- Oh no.

I play bit-parts.

The Secretary who types the boss’s letter...
and who sometimes has it off with the boss.

The maid who opens the door.

The fake door.

Do you go to the movies, Inspector??

It happens... to change my mind.

So you don’t see detective films?

Chases, fights...

The suspect beaten up with
a phone book to make him talk, no...

Too unbelievable.

How do you get
your suspects to talk?

Nothing. I listen to them.

Come... it’ll be quieter next door.

That’s fake too.

It’s a background.

Background.

So, tell me.

You live at 3 Albion Square?

Yes, why?

And previously,
at what address?

71 rue Crubellier,
17th district.

Alone?

Yes. Well, no. With another girl.

Actress, too?

Not at all. I’d just met her
on the train to Paris.

She didn’t know where to stay,
I helped her out.

Her name?

Her name was Louise.
Louise Louviere.

Louise Louviere.

Why did you say her name was?

Because... I don’t see her anymore.
I don’t know what became of her.

She was found dead
on Saturday night.

- In Batignolles Square.
- Oh my God!

Please forgive me.

Dead, how?

Not a natural death,
in any case.

Do you know her age?

Not exactly. Barely 20, I’d say.

Did she have any documentation?

No idea.
She said she was an orphan.

Born of an unknown father.
She wanted to find him.

But then... Louviere?

Her mother’s name.
Died when Louise was little.

She was raised by the nuns,
then placed as a maid.

They mistreated her,
so she ran away.

That’s how we met.

Why did she come to Paris?

That’s what I wonder.

Most of the time,
she stayed in her room...

As if she was afraid
to go out.

Poor Louise.

I got her a job here,
at the studio.

Lighting double.
To set up, before a scene is shot.

She stood in for the star.

She looks like her,
but it’s not her.

She was also was an extra
in You Dance, Miss?

Oh, no masterpiece.

Why did you come to Paris?

- Me?
- Yes.

To be a success.

Apart from you, did she
have any friends?

No one, that I know of.

- No boyfriend?
- Oh, even less chance.

Kaplan, does that name
mean anything to you?

Not at all.

But we weren’t really girlfriends.
We were too different.

Her negativity eventually
really got to me.

I left the room to her.

About 3 months ago.
Since then, she phoned me 2 or 3 times.

The last time,
she pissed me off with her whining

that I’d abandoned her.
I was her only friend. She was unhappy.

- I hung up on her.
- You seem to do that a lot.

Eh?

Trocadero 08-40?

Sorry, I didn’t know
who you were.

So, Louviere, Louise.

Nothing. Nowhere on file.

I have one, condemned for infanticide,
but that was in 1892.

And Armenieu, Jeanine?

Nothing either. Apart from a peccadillo
recently, under her stage name.

Rowdy behaviour outside the Calavados,
a nightclub on the Champs-Elysées.

Very well.

My papers are in order, Inspector.

No, I didn’t come for that.
Tell me about that girl.

What girl?

Louise. Louise Louviere.

She disappeared, didn’t she?

In a way. You knew her?

Of course.

When I reported her missing
to your colleagues, they said to me,

“Weird looking for someone
when one is sought out oneself.”

So I put a notice
in the paper.

Looking for girl. Brown sports coat,

blue sweater, beige skirt, black shoes.

That girl you were looking for,
what was her name?

Louise Louviere?

Louise.

Loulou. Lulu.

I called her Ida.

Like the Ida of my grandma’s story
when I was a child...

in Vilnius.

You know Vilnius, Inspector?

No, I don’t.

That doesn’t surprise me.
The city changed its name so often.

Vilnius, Wilno, Vilna...

All the people I ever knew there,
have disappeared.

There are no more than their spirits
wandering among the ruins.

So the name, you know...

What’s the significance?

Was Louise Louviere
part of your family?

My family?

Here too, they’ve all disappeared.

No one left.

I’m the sole survivor.
The only one.

- Want to see my papers?
- Nope.

Did she come to see you?

Who?

Louise.

When?

I don’t know. Recently.

Oh, no, no.

I’ve been waiting for her
for so long.

She disappeared one night
during the curfew.

She never came back.

I don’t think we’re talking
about the same person.

Sorry to have disturbed you.

When you lose your child
you lose everything.

There’s nothing left,
you know.

Only the night.

I know, Mr. Kaplan.

I know.

It’s me. Don’t wait for me
for dinner or for bed.

It’ll depend.
I don’t know yet.

Chief?

Okay? Can you hear me?
Chief?

We’ve got something new
on little Louise.

I noticed her on rue Blanche.

She was walking quickly,
but not straight.

She seemed to be
dressed up like a princess...

It was painful to see.

She ended up agreeing
to get in the cab.

Must say she wasn’t going next door.

I’ve charged you cab-fare before,
Inspector. Do you remember?

No.

You’d stopped this
woman of the world...

who’d murdered her husband
at La Muette.

I was surprised to see you in a taxi.
You said you didn’t have a license.

Just continue to tell me
about the girl.

Well, actually, she didn’t talk much.

She was nervous...

Worried, even.

Like she was afraid.

I hadn’t counted on a fare.
She had no money at all.

I waited till she got inside,
and then I left.

A young brunette
in an ivory-colored evening dress.

Late arrival... around 10.30.

Sorry, I was too busy serving
to notice.

After the reception,
were you missing a white tablecloth?

I couldn’t say.

But silverware, yes.
Customers can’t help it.

Thanks.

I didn’t move from the cloakroom.

I don’t remember
having seen her arrive.

But with customers
coming and going to the toilets...

- Inspector...
- Yes?

- The invitation to the reception.
- Thanks.

“Mrs. Arnaud Clermont-Valois,
Mr. and Mrs. Pierre Armenieu...”

Good evening.

It’s my fiancé Laurent’s car.
It’s thanks to him that I work here.

- He’s in business.
- Me too.

Another kind of business.

We didn’t have an appointment,
did we?

Do you know where your friend Louise
went to on the evening of her death?

How would I know?

She went to the reception
for your engagement.

You forgot to tell me that,
the last time.

If she was at the reception,
why would I keep it from you?

Well...

that’s it... why?

I haven’t seen her for months.
I know nothing. Leave me alone!

I’m sorry... you’re telling me
these things so...

I didn’t invite her.

I didn’t tell her
I was getting married.

No newspaper announcement?

Yes, she could’ve seen that.
But apart from it...

We have a witness...
a taxi driver who dropped her off.

A taxi?
She refused herself nothing, poor thing.

Drat! I’ve laddered my stocking.

She must have decided
against coming in...

out of shyness,
or fear of imposing herself.

She must have gone off,
alone at night...

and had a dreadful encounter.

I’m grateful for your help.

- Go!
- Wait…

I was forgetting. I have to
summon you to the Forensic Institute.

What’s that?

It used to be called the morgue.

We need you to identify the body.

Otherwise it can’t be buried.

Buried?

She has the right to a burial.

Of course, but why me?

As you’re aware,
she had no family or friends...

She only had you.

Come in here, come on!

Quickly!

- Stop! Calm down!
- Let go of me!

I’ve got her.
Go on, call the cops!

What were you doing there?

Do you have nowhere to stay?

You run off, because I’m police...

Then you want help from the police.

Once again.

Will you put that in your report?
“Evil, perverse, wicked.”

That’s it.
Then we’ll take you to the cells.

The height chart, the fingerprints,
front and profile photos,

body search...

before locking you in a damp, putrid cell.

With rats for company.

Why might I want to quash
this breaking and entering charge?

Don’t know.

I can also be nice.

Would you like me to be nice?

Chief, the examining magistrate
wants to see you.

Later.

Whose is it?

She’s left.

What if she comes back?

She’s not coming back.

If someone asks for her,
you let me know.

I’ll leave you the key, here.

- You’re leaving already?
- Yes.

Why are you doing this for me?

I’m not doing this for you.

- For rent in advance.
- That’s fine.

I want you to remain discreet.

Understood!
I’ll keep an eye out.

Did I ask you to do that?

Sir?

Inspector Maigret... to see Mr. Laurent...

Laurent Clermont-Valois.

- Have you seen my bag?
- No, Mr. Laurent.

Mother, I can’t find my bag.

In its usual place, darling.

She always puts it away
in an impossible place.

As if she didn’t want me
to go to the office.

She used to hide my schoolbag...

and call the principal
to say I was sick.

Louise Louviere
was a friend of your fiancée.

We’re not the same kind of people.

To be quite open about it...
we’re from different worlds.

But you got engaged.

So you’ll deduce that Jeanine
has other qualities.

So I imagine.
How did you meet her?

Does it matter?

In a nightclub.
Is that all?

This friend of your fiancée,
Louise Louviere.

Louise Louviere...

Would you have recognized her among
the guests at your engagement party?

How could I, if I’d never seen her before?

Fair enough.

But your fiancée
could have introduced you.

No. Tell me what it’s all about, without
beating around the bush anymore!

Your fiancée hasn’t
said anything to you?

Regarding what?

I’ll be back.

I have a board meeting.
Shall I go with you?

I’ll stay a while.

The busy man.
Like his father.

- So you live with your son?
- No...

My son lives with me.

In this house, that he’ll leave
to get married.

His fiancée is a fine-looking girl.

Oh, if you say so...
But awfully common.

We didn’t used to confuse
wives with dancing-girls.

My husband used to have
fleeting affairs with cabaret dancers,

bar girls...

I put up with it for 25 years.

Did you have separate bedrooms?

Madam, I’m not your enemy.

My duty is to seek the truth.

I hope to find it,
doing as little harm as possible.

I never loved my husband,
yet he was very good to me.

You haven’t thought
of asking for a divorce?

I wanted to stay
Mrs. Arnaud Clermont-Valois.

And I still am,
having buried him.

At the funeral,
I said that he’d been a wonderful husband...

and a marvelous father.

Excuse me...
Mr. Delaunay the attorney on the phone.

Hello?

Yes.

No, I don’t know.

We will talk about it later.

Oh, you’re lovely. Me too.

See you this evening.

Where were we?

The dancing-girls.

Is your son like his father
in his private life?

Laurent, no, he’s no wolf.
He’s quite different.

More complex, shall we say.

However, I can’t imagine him
killing anyone.

You know, the perpetrator of a crime
never sees themself killing someone.

But they suddenly feel the need
to assert themself... to exist.

And to exist they put an end
to the existence of another.

You’re informed as to
what happened to that girl...

unlike your son, or so he claims.

On the evening of the reception,
the driver wasn’t working.

He was given leave
for the engagement party.

- Who was driving the car, then?
- The fiancé himself.

I took the opportunity
to cook my favourite.

The fiancé’s clothes have been dry-cleaned.

Nothing to expect from them.

- And you?
- Almost a blank.

Clermont-Valois,
Laurent Arnaud Charles...

On file for morals incidents.

Touching a housemaid who was underage.

Later... deviant practices
imposed on two secretaries.

Deviant?

A fetishism... unspecified.

Filed without follow-up.
The mother compensated the victims.

Chief...
The old monkey is calling for you.

Again?

Where are you up to
with the guests?

They’ve all been questioned,
but no one remembers the girl.

Alright. Thanks.

The red pigeon discus fish.

It’s a very fussy eater.

I just bought it,
at La Megisserie wharf.

An aquarium rarity.

It’s found in an archipelago
in the Sea of Japan.

And now, it splashes
on the banks of the Seine.

Yes, like us.

He’ll get used to it eventually,
if the others let him live.

Do you have any animals at home,
Maigret?

Only on a plate.

To investigate the case,
I lack firm evidence.

So do I, Sir.

Witnesses who knew the victim,
don’t remember her,

or prefer to have forgotten her.
Just give me some time.

You could have told me that
the Clermont-Valois son was involved.

Because I didn’t know.

He has a sensitive personality.

- No!
- What do you mean?

Qualifying that boy as “sensitive”.
He gives the opposite impression.

Do you really believe that
Clermont-Valois could have killed her?

I believe nothing.

Never nothing.

I even avoid thinking.

How do you do that?

I never trust the obvious.

No! No pipe or cigars here!

My fish can’t cope
with them, understand?

I know.

But “this is not a pipe”.

That’s a Belgian joke.
I was trying to lighten the mood.

You’re the first to see them.
I just finished the prints.

Who are you looking for?

Her.

Do you have a glass?

Thanks.

Are the prints in order?

Of the course of the evening, yes.

Oh, it was you?

You’re not superstitious.

No, why?

Like that, you look like her.

Like who?

The one before you.
She’s dead. Murdered.

Didn’t your friend
the inspector, tell you?

I’m trying to tidy the small bedroom.
We’re drowning in accumulated stuff.

Can we toss out
your pile of old newspapers?

How about we go out tonight?

Don’t really feel like it.

Do you really want me to?

No, it doesn’t matter.

What would you like?

Nothing.

Not even a smoke, alas!

What’s up with you
at the moment?

What makes you say that?

I don’t know.
You’re just not yourself.

So who am I?

Someone else.

It’s her.

Can I drop you off somewhere?

Anywhere.

I wasn’t expecting you.

I was passing by.

You always look grim.

I AM grim.

What’s this dress?

She was my size.
Don’t make a fuss of it.

Take it off... now!

What else do I take off?

Do you always keep
your armor on?

Did you keep the dead girl here, too?

You loved her... then she dumped you.
Is that it?

Wouldn’t you prefer a beer
with the ham sandwich?

Yes.

But when I start a case on white wine,
I continue on white wine.

There are white cases, calva cases,
and beer cases.

I started on her
with white.

- Snack, anyone?
- I’ve had my fill of sandwiches.

As a result of standing around
from morning to night...

Go on... we’re listening.

He spends his days
at his office...

He comes out for lunch
with his clients.

She’s shooting a film at Billancourt.
They meet in the evening, late.

Restaurant, nightclub…

A last drink at her place,
maybe with friends,

and our man comes home quietly
to sleep at mum’s.

Did you go to
the bride-to-be’s house?

She let me in for a moment.

Did you play the vacuum-cleaner
salesman?

No, life insurance.

Well, that’s what police do.

It’s a big apartment
rented to her by her fiancé.

Half empty, oddly.
The shutters are always closed.

Even during the day.

Our blind spot is their connection
to Louise.

You don’t want it followed up?

Once I’m at my new address,
with my future husband.

Really? All my best wishes!

Thank you.

Can I buy you a coffee?

If you want.

- I had a friend like you.
- Like me?

Your type.

And what’s my type?

Good kind or bad kind?

- Can I offer you a cigarette?
- No thanks.

Are you looking for work?

So, Inspector, are you angry?

No?

I’m relieved that
you’re not angry.

I don’t know anyone
other than you in Paris.

Do you believe me?

You’re big enough
to do what you want.

My first case was here.

A drowned woman
of whom we knew nothing.

The newspapers had called her
“The unknown of the Seine”.

Sounds pretty.

She wasn’t pretty, believe me.

After several weeks
on the bottom of the river.

I went on thinking about her.

Even at night, in my dreams,
or rather my nightmares.

Like Ulysses.

In The Odyssey.

He’s bewitched by the sirens,
who lure him to the bottom of the sea.

I’ll want to pay back the rent
as soon as I find a good job.

A girl wants me
to meet someone.

Her fiancé.
He’d have a job to offer me.

It’s funny. This woman knew
the girl who lived in my room.

Her name was...

Jeanine?

No, Nadine.

That’s her...
the same one.

Did you tell her about me?

Why would I do that?

- Did she tell you about me?
- Nope.

Where’s your meeting?

Her place.

She’s supposed to
pick me up in a car...

but I don’t know
if I’ll go.

Why not?

It’ll be late, and there’s
something odd about it.

You’re going.
It’s important.

For who?

- For me.
- So go yourself!

No, find an excuse about the car.
I’ll take you there.

Why should I obey you?
Because you’re a cop?

Yes that’s it.
A filthy copper!

Don’t scowl!

I’ll scowl if I want.

What will I get in return?

Nothing.

Are you doing this
for that dead girl?

What’s the point,
since she’s dead?

Listen to me.

If something makes you uncomfortable
or worries you, don’t hesitate to run.

- What kind of thing?
- Things.

Are you throwing me
into the lion’s jaws, or what?

I don’t really know.
I hope not.

They made me drink
and forced me to do stuff.

With her.
Both on the couch.

He didn’t touch me.
He played with himself, watching us.

She did to me whatever he asked...
with mouth, tongue, fingers.

It was just a job.

Paid me five thousand.
And I forgot them when I left.

What a dope!

Why didn’t you get out beforehand?

Why?

I don’t know.

Maybe I liked it.

- OK?
- She’s asleep.

I lent her a nightgown.

- I couldn’t leave her on her own.
- You did the right thing.

This was rolled up
in her sleeve.

You’ll give it back to her.
She didn’t steal it.

Yes, I know.

- No, tomorrow morning.
- Alright.

Let her sleep.

- Milk, sugar?
- Thanks, no.

Some toast and plum jam?

My sister brings plums
from home.

No thanks. I don’t
feel up to eating.

Sorry for the mess
in the bedroom.

I hadn’t noticed.

It’s used for everything
except sleeping.

If you’d like to stay a few days...

That’s nice thanks, but I have somewhere.

- We don’t often have guests.
- You didn’t have children?

A daughter.

I have the additional results
for the Louise Louviere case.

The findings are surprising.

After cervical rupture,
she succumbed to respiratory distress.

That’s why her lungs
indicated asphyxiation.

We see it here. Rupture of the odontoid
and phrenic nerve injury,

probably due to a fall,
occurring earlier,

and certainly in another place.

With the alcohol level associated
with the opiate you told me about...

accidental loss of balance
is not excluded.

I feel something’s
bothering you.

I also had chest x-rays.

On your x-rays...

You were smoking like a chimney,
but not the shadow of a stain!

They could have been
of a 12-year old.

I expected to tell you
you didn’t have long left.

Come on, to celebrate,
I invite you to share duck ‘au sang’...

at Tournelle wharf.

We could wash it down
with a Pommard.

Very nice, but...

The duck died of suffocation,
and didn’t bleed...

That is the whole subtlety.

And it allows them
to extract the carcass juices

to the last drop of blood,
and bind it to the sauce.

Albert Janvier told me
that you were here.

Sir, can we proceed?

Yes.

I haven’t been here for a while.
Will you walk with me?

Sure.

She would’ve been 20, too.

20 years old.

We’re getting married.

We’ve decided to move
the date forward.

Why not? If you love each other.

I wanted to see you again
to clarify certain points...

regarding the presence
of Louise Louviere

on the evening
of your engagement reception.

We’ve already answered you.

She was able to come there,
but you haven’t seen her.

She had to leave alone,
to a dreadful assignation.

Yes. A stranger
who offered her a drink.

She wouldn’t have done that.

Not a girl like her.

You seem to know her.

That possibility is undermined
by the results of the autopsy.

Louise Louviere did not die
from stab wounds to the chest

and to the abdomen.

Do we have to suffer such details?

I accepted that you attend,
but please don’t interfere.

She did not die at the Batignolles,
but earlier in the evening...

and elsewhere.

She died of a cervical rupture,
known as “whiplash”...

occurring after a fall, maybe accidental.

So the body of the victim
was moved, transported...

and only then stabbed
to make a series of wounds.

This amounts to saying someone
disguised an accident as murder.

In principle, quite perverse.

I’ve no idea
where you’re going with this.

Me neither, to tell you the truth.

I’m groping in the dark.

Monsieur,

it seems you left the reception
for a while, a little before midnight.

Yes, I was indisposed.

Meaning?

I was pissed off.

Let go of me!

I was also absent.

I went out to my son
to see if he was feeling unwell.

A mother is often worried.

You maintained an intimate relationship
with Louise Louviere

between the two of you.

Making it a threesome.

I don’t understand.

Let’s imagine a large apartment
on Alboni Square,

where soirees would take place,
with naive, impressionable girls,

entrapped by a procurer.

Soirees that the law cannot penalize,
nor can morality, even.

Mine, at least.

Except that young prey
are not always consenting...

and that little Louise,
in particular, was a minor.

And that changes everything.

These supposed soirees, Mr. Maigret,

seem to be figments
of the imagination.

Louise Louviere can no longer testify,
but others might.

Those that came before,
and those that followed.

Very recently, I believe... a certain Betty.

Sorry, but why are you
getting married

if you can’t touch
a woman’s body?

I’ve had enough!

Delaunay...
Counsel to the family.

We’ve already met.
The Lachaume Affair.

- Good memory.
- Bad memories.

You need to conduct your interrogation
in a more formal manner

if you intend to pursue it.

We shall see to it.

Madame.

Counsel.

You’re left-handed?

Yes, why do you ask?

With people like that,
the wall of silence can last lifetime.

They have it all planned,
down to the smallest detail.

So what? Case closed?

No, no.
You pull too fast and too hard.

I hear it going “hah hah”...
when it should go “pop pop”.

Understand?

Slow down.

Give me that.

It’s not complicated, you hear?

Oh!

Delightful!

Pop.

Hold it.

That one.

Walk a little slower.

More timid.

So. Not so straight.

As if you were in danger of falling.
So.

Come back towards me.

Don’t look ahead,
lower your eyes...

That’s it, that’s good.

Yes, that’s good.

I have something to ask you.

Say it.

The silk stockings...
can I keep them afterwards?

We’ll see.

Sir... Ma’am...

Let go of me!

Is that where Louise fell?

Did your wife hurt herself?

You should talk to me, don’t you think?

For a bit there, I believed
in your little play-acting, too.

The return of the ghost.
Cinderella in her ball gown.

She came looking for comfort,
maybe to feel loved.

Jeanine and Laurent

believed that she’d come
to deal for her silence.

My son pulled her towards the stairs

to get her
to answer for herself.

She fell backwards,
breaking her neck. Dead.

I found Laurent prostrate by the body,
unable to react.

He wanted to call the police.

You didn’t?

He didn’t realize the consequences.

He’d be asked awkward questions.

About the soirees
on Alboni Square.

Among others.

I instructed my son
as to what he must do.

Transport the body,
and leave it in a discreet place.

Immediately, without waiting.

That’s what we did.

Not alone.

No, not alone.

My son had already returned
to the car.

He didn’t know
that I’d taken a knife here.

Then I stabbed her.

Five times.

Maybe.

A dead girl... Whatever for?

To make it look like…

You don’t always know
what’s going through your mind.

Just a question of routine?

Where’s the knife now?

At the bottom of the Seine.
I threw it.

What seems strange to me

is to come back to this same place
to celebrate the marriage...

After what happened here.

Nothing happened here, nothing.
It was an accident.

And my son only obeyed me.

It was even he who managed
to call Police-emergency.

The murderer who contacts
the police is common.

Is it murder to stab someone
who’s already dead?

Ask your lawyer for advice.

I have already.

I thought so.

If someone is to be judged,
Mr. Maigret, it’s me.

I’m not judging anyone, ma’am.

We’ll meet again to record your statement.

For now, you can go home.

And the newlyweds, of course,
will have to postpone their honeymoon.

Without the death
of this girl,

this absurd marriage probably
would never have happened.

What time do you get there?

It’ll be night.

Your parents will be surprised.

I don’t know if they’ll
recognize me with this.

- It looks good on you.
- I was thinking of keeping it.

A souvenir.

You were great.

It’s thanks to you that I...

Thanks.

Thanks for what?

You’re welcome.

Everything.

So it means
that you like me?

Of course.

Great!

All the best.

- All the best to you too.
- Thank you.

Like to dance, Miss?