Original subtitles

Sadly, running a company like mine shortens your life.

Each year counts as three.

Today, for example, a nice day awaits me.

At least 2 hours of meeting at the factory.

The workers will blackmail us since they know we're going on vacation.

They're idiots.

They don't realize they might not even make it to the so-called hot autumn.

Meanwhile, what are they doing? They increase their demands.

Benito, a glass of water, please!

One thing is sure: my troubles have no end.

I'll have to shut down the factory and throw in the towel. By the way...

I admit that you're an intelligent man, dear Massimo.

More than my husband who's always talking about the economic crisis and his liver.

But you too have become unbearable.

I can't stand your obsession with lecturing me.

The question of "Boston" or "Baston" is much more serious than you think.

By implicating the architect Garrone, you're really carrying it too far.

Bye!

Going out?

Be good, Francesca.

That expert, Bonetto... - Bye!

...claims that Americans, in general, eat little.

But, it's not true. - Bo-ston!

No, they're from Detroit. Anyway, if I shall dine with them, I'll call you.

Benito! This is the limit! Don't you know that you must use a tray?

And that you should wear gloves when serving and do up your collar?

I can't stand them anymore! Both of them!

They even manage to break unbreakable glasses! I'll fire them!

But, Anna Carla, we've tried them all.

Filipinos, Portuguese... And now, we're back to Sardinians

and they too are not what they used to be.

So, if I dine with them, I'll call you. - With whom? Sardinians?

No, with the Americans, darling. They want to buy the Bra factory.

Anything on for today?

I'll have to do my packing. - Oh, fine.

THE SUNDAY WOMAN

Good morning, everyone! - Good morning.

Hi, cutie. A pay phone token, please.

What a neckline this morning.

Do you know what's the difference between us today?

I run before the wind and you knock the wind out of me.

That's a good one!

Good morning.

It's architect Garrone.

We agreed on today.

Yes, alright. At 10:30pm.

In my study? Great!

Regards!

Would you like me to thin it out behind or should I leave it how it is?

When is The Arthouse opening?

At 3:30. They're showing The whip. A Third World movie. I've watched it.

Artistic, but powerful with four fuck scenes.

I might watch it twice. That way, I'll make it to 7 o'clock.

And watch 8 fuck scenes.

Should I thin it out? - Sure, sure!

Dear Massimo,

what divides us is not "Boston".

It's Garrone, the architect.

I've had enough of him!

Despicable slugs like that should be killed off.

Good evening!

Just a minute.

Good evening, Madam! - How do you do?

...instead of Correggio, we could talk about the great Emilian's workshop.

I swear on my honor!

5 millions is a laughable price! - If my friend Vollero will allow me,

I think that, in a respectable parlor, a subject like that is a little risqué.

Do you have children?

Well, grown-ups. - We've grandchildren, Giulio.

They visit us every Sunday.

Forget about it. It's 5 millions.

Let's say 4. I mean, 4 millions.

With your permission. I'm going into orbit in search of a "drinkie".

So?

Well, we'll just look around a bit. Maybe later.

Garrone is obnoxious but I feel sorry for him. He's a solitary.

In America, such broken people, rejected and socially excluded

there are swarms of them

and they find an audience, let's say, "low", down-to-earth.

Here, instead, it's a race threatened with definitive extinction.

No! That kind of people never dies. Unless someone kills them!

Why are you cleaning up now that we got fired?

Benito, look at all these cigarette butts!

With the price of cigarettes these days, you don't want to keep them? - Keep them...

Yeah, sure.

Alright, here are two more.

Look how she squashed these! You can tell that she was nervous.

Madam was very nervous.

"Dear Massimo..." The one from lvrea?

No, that was Massimiliano. This is Massimo Campi.

As soon as her husband told her that he was dining with Americans

she went to his place. They're in bed now.

Read this! She wants to kill Garrone. Who's he?

Another lover, I suppose. - It's "Boston"!

Ditto.

The richer, the sluttier. What's more, this one is a murderess too.

Massimo!

Yes, Mom? - Aren't you dining with us? - No, not tonight.

Let's go back in.

I can't bear looking at that sign!

The Monnets too have decided to parcel out.

Nice! We'll have another block of flats with tennis courts and swimming pools.

All things considered, why don't we parcel out too?

Anyway, Massimo is never around. - Oh, thanks!

I think that the American groups that buy

the Italian industrial plants at sale price

are not driven by mere economic interests...

Rice...

Escalopes...

Wine.

Fruits?

Banana!

While we're on the subject...

Do you have a boyfriend? - No. - Well, a beautiful girl like you.

£3.200. - Do you like movies?

Dancing? Or a vacation in the Bahamas?

From tomorrow on, I might fulfill all your wishes like Aladdin's lamp!

But keep quiet!

It's our secret...

made of trips, love and bananas.

£3.200.

Keep... Keep the change!

A £800 tip?

Miss? - Yes?

If I were your boyfriend, that dork wouldn't dare

saying such nasty words to a lady like you... ever again!

I took the road down by the river.

It was warm. There wasn't a breath of air.

I was there about 20 minutes walking my dog, my doggie.

It's an intelligent dog, like all dogs.

"Those who don't love animals", you know the saying.

So, what time did I get home? Oh, it must've been about 11.

Maybe, few minutes after, I suppose...

I suppose I wouldn't have paid much attention to Garrone's open door.

The dog sneaked its muzzle in and I cried:

Oh, Good Lord!

What did you write? - "Oh, Good Lord" exclamation mark.

Coviello, put a curb on your vocation for drama!

Mr Bauchiero, please, try to recall

everything you noticed while going back to the main door.

Come on, let's make an effort. - So...

Born in... Cagliari.

March 14th, 1931.

And thereto residing in Turin.

Thereto? - Why? You don't say that?

You say thereto in Cagliari! We're in Turin.

Ah, you mean, you don't say thereto in Turin? - No!

The carabinieri in Cagliari never minded when we would say thereto!

Well then? - The blonde...

The blonde? - Yes. She was coming out of the building.

Not particularly attractive nor particularly elegant either.

She was wearing a plastic raincoat, so thin you don't even know it's there.

Sort of a condom. - Yes, I didn't dare.

She had a shoulder bag, an orange one, and she was rather tall.

Coviello, did you write that? - No! - Write!

On returning home, the witness Bauchiero recalls...

One particular detail. May I? - We're eager for details.

There was a design on her bag. What color was it? White.

It was a badge. What kind of badge?

You're answering your questions? - To be precise.

It was a 5-pointed star of Italy.

Coviello, write that. - Just a moment! - Don't write!

Talking about association of ideas.

That lady was holding a handkerchief up to her face

as if wiping away sweat, I don't know.

So, I can't give you a description either of her face or her age.

Furthermore, she was carrying a tube, a cylindrical thing.

We won't give you the letter, then! - What's going on?

They're two servants. They got fired and they came to lodge a complaint.

We must show you this, Sir.

The minute we heard that that poor man had been killed, we dashed over here.

What poor man? - Read it! Read it!

Who wrote this letter? - Ms Anna Carla Dosio.

Dear Massimo, irrespective of everything else, "Boston" or ...

Bastin... - Try with the glasses.

"Boston" or "Baston", I've had enough of Garrone.

Ritual murder or not, let's get rid of him once and for all.

We'll both win.

A. C. Dosio.

Dosio, Dosio? - Dosio, Dosio.

Who's this "Dear Massimo"? - Massimo Campi.

Campi, Campi?

Dosio Dosio, Campi Campi... Fuck fuck.

Who are those two servants? Do they have a record? - No, Sir.

What would you like us to do? The district attorney...

I'll take care of Mr Mulas. One of you two make contact with...

with those concerned. With due prudence.

And the other should follow up clues that are much more concrete!

Sorry but with all the work we have to do

using two inspectors for one murder is a waste. - Yes, two inspectors!

There are two persons involved. It's a very delicate matter.

Who will be interviewing Mr Campi and...? - Him!

Well, sort it out between you. But, watch the press.

And please, silky hand in a velvet glove.

Given the milieu, it should be your job.

You cut a fine figure, you know a few Latin sayings...

Alright. We'll turn to the coin.

This one! Let me see. - What? You don't trust me?

Is my son going to be released or not? - Yes!

So, what did they kill Garrone with?

With this!

A stone phallus clearly inspired by the Pompeian art.

Did it belong to the victim or did the killer bring it to the house?

Who knows? - Develop it now and make about ten copies.

Done! Anything else? - I thought you smoked "Nazionali". Oh, I get it!

And when that Anna Carla Dosio comes what it's gonna be? Champagne?

How nice!

This pain is so unbearable.

Where were we? - Anna Carla Dosio. Do you know her?

Yes. I've seen her in the papers. - What's she like?

What do you think the wife of a big industrialist looks like?

Well, I imagine she's tall, hot... - Hot, that's correct.

And this Massimo Campi, the son of another big industrialist, was...

... was... - Mr Massimo Campi!

I have to go now.

Good morning. Delighted to meet you. Santamaria. Please, take a seat.

I'm sorry I'm late. I don't have a car and it's hard to find a taxi these days.

You didn't accept my offer to come to your place to see you...

You don't have a car? - For 3 years.

I had an Aston Martin. I'm still ashamed of it.

It's much easier without a car.

How hot!

Yes. But not in the evening. Last night, at our place, up on the hill

it was so fresh that we couldn't dine on the terrace.

Last night, you were on the hill?

You phoned me to ask for my advice.

What kind of advice? I'm burning with curiosity.

Do you smoke? - Do you have a "Nazionale"?

I just happen to have some.

Here you are. - Thanks.

It's about...

an awkward situation in which I risk making an awful fool of myself.

Although I'm sure you'll understand my position.

"Non flere, non indignari, sed intelligere."

Sadly, I don't know Latin.

There.

How did you get this letter?

We don't normally give much weight to tip-offs from dismissed servants, but...

Ah, those two. The couple. I didn't know they'd been fired.

Yes. This morning, they read the papers and brought us that exhibit

which puts us in this rather unpleasant situation.

They read the papers, you said. What did the papers say?

Why? You don't read them? - No, never. Why?

Architect Garrone was murdered last night in his study on Via Mazzini.

With a curious stone object. What is it about?

Exhibit number 2.

Indeed, it's worthy of him. Funny!

Yes. But the funny side of a situation hangs by a thread.

Ritual murder or not, let's get rid of him once and for all.

You must admit it's really quite a coincidence.

Yes, I understand, but I can explain everything. Full confession!

Could I have a cup of coffee? - Yes!

We have a vending machine.

You offer it to the suspects too? - Yes, but we add a little truth serum.

I'm sure there's some in this one.

So, I'm going to spill the beans.

You see, it all begins with a word: "Boston".

Tell me, how do you pronounce "Boston"?

Well... Boston.

See? Mrs Dosio pronounces it the American way, "Baston".

I scolded her and we ended up quarreling. Breakdown!

And... No. Sorry.

This way. What's that got to do with Garrone?

Oh, Garrone. We just knew him by sight.

Nobody invites him, but he's everywhere and we use him, or rather, we used him.

You don't say. In what way? - In our private small theater.

A charity performance. - No, it's just a game.

It consists in citing a character to show what shouldn't be done or imitated.

For example, we say "a Bonetto-style tie" or "socks à la Mr So-and-so".

More or less to... - And "Boston"?

Well, Garrone, in fact

was the kind of man who used to say "Baston"

to show everyone that he knew English.

I find these linguistic affectations rather silly. - Indeed, quite true!

Tell me, did Mrs Dosio know Garrone well?

No, no! Garrone disgusted her. That's why she got offended

and wrote in that letter that she would eliminate him from our small theater.

I took up a lot of your time. Sorry. - Not at all. I should apologize. Listen.

Who, in your opinion, had the motive for killing Garrone? For real

and not for fun. - For real?

I shall look at the issue in depth. But let me think about it a bit.

And I'll call you as soon as possible. Alright?

Goodbye.

So, will my son be released, Sir?

Yes, he will.

What's he like? - Well, he laughs at the dead man...

and grumbles about the pronunciation of an English word.

To be catalogued under the letter "S". - "S" as suspects?

Scumbags! - Scumbags and suspects.

What's with you?

Good morning, Jeannine. Is Madam at home? - Oui! - Come on up!

Humble pie? It's nice of you.

Wait to talk! - Why?

All in good time.

I've been upset for 2 days.

I was about to write to you. I would've destroyed you! Then, I threw it all.

In the bin? - Yes.

And I decided it was better to wait to talk to you. Frankly, openly...

Would you like a drink? - I might have a coffee later. Now, talk. I'm listening.

The correct pronunciation is "Baston".

So, I'm doing right by saying "Baston"

and not "Boston", because it's correct and logical.

It's completely natural for me to say "Baston". It's not a twit affectation.

Or else, all inhabitants of Ponza would be affected.

Why the island of Ponza now?

They emigrated from America and they all say "Baston", from morning till night.

So, you have to stop casting that vile Garrone up at me

and his way of speaking.

That's why you wrote to me that it was the time to eliminate him? - Yes!

How do you know?

That coffee I asked you for...

you'll have to make it yourself since you've sacked Benito and Maria.

Right away.

Massimo, don't make me mad!

What else?

Do you know where I was? - No! - At the police station

where an inspector showed me a letter written by an irresponsible graphomaniac

which constitutes an instigation to murder!

What? Ah, those two!

I got it! Sardinian vendetta!

This is why we granted the police a wage rise

so that they listen to the servants' gossip!

If you wrote less and read more...

you would've learned from the papers that Garrone was killed last night.

No! - Yes!

Who killed him?

For now, you and I are the only ones who could have done it.

Because of that letter?

So... It's marvelous! - Stop laughing, you fool!

It's a serious situation. What were you doing last night?

The alibi?

I don't have one!

I walked along the Po. You would've said that it was an art house scenery.

You'd even describe the banks of Senna as too CIT.

Never used the word "cheap"! - CIT: Company Italian Tourism.

And then? - I went to the movies. Alone. - Any witnesses?

No! Do you have an alibi? - Please, don't wander. And then? - I came back home.

Vittorio was out. The servants were asleep. You didn't answer me!

You think you can pull that off? He didn't fall for that "Boston" business.

He suspects me? When will he be questioning me? When will I meet him?

It's the first exciting thing since I've had a flat tire 4 years ago!

Tired? - Well, I am a bit.

Will you flavor it yourself?

You know what I wanted to tell you?

We really have to do Greece this year.

Mrs Fogliato was telling me about it just yesterday. She went there last year.

The sea is...

violet!

Look!

It really looks like a jellyfish.

Besides, the islands...

are incredible.

Everybody's going to Greece this year. - Exactly!

It's a must-see place.

Oh! Just a moment!

What I meant was a lot of people I know will be going there.

In crowds. - Oh, your wealthy friends!

No-one is forcing us to go to Greece. Look...

How about the Aeolian Islands?

Taste some! - No, I trust you.

Fancy that there's no electricity, no water, no gas, nothing at all.

You and I and nature.

Every morning, instead of a cup of coffee the fishermen bring you lobsters this big!

What's wrong?

Honestly... I'd rather have coffee in the morning instead of a lobster.

You're not interested.

No, it must be quite beautiful.

It's just...

I was thinking of something more domestic. - That is?

The villa in Monferrato.

You hardly ever go there! - Exactly.

I had it redone. I was thinking of going there.

Lello... - Yes?

The point is that we... - It's completely obvious!

You were hoping that I with my 24 days of vacation a year

would refuse this ludicrous vacation in Monferrato!

Am I right?

Still friends!

I hope we'll see each other again. Or you are planning to settle permanently there?

No, listen to me! - Leave me alone! - Don't!

There's another reason why I can't go abroad.

I didn't want to tell you!

A secret? - Yes!

Between me, a friend and the police.

You're kidding? - Not in the least! - What are you saying?

It's the truth. It has to do with a murder.

It can't be! Tell me! You have to confide in me. Who is it?

It's an architect called Garrone. A loser who was designing gravestones.

I read about it. What's it to you? - In fact, it has nothing to do with me.

But due to a peculiar misunderstanding

me and that friend of mine... It's Anna Carla

we're into this up to our neck. Will that do? - Massimo, forgive me!

Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive me!

At last, I've found the guy he went to see.

Sorry? - He went to his place. - What did you say?

It's Riviera Lello. - Sorry?

Riviera as River!

Riviera... - Lello as Livorno. - Lello.

What does he do?

By asking here and there, I found out what he does.

This guy works at City Hall.

He's standoffish.

He's gay!

A faggot!

Why you fucking speaking in Sicilian? - I don't want anyone here to understand

what I'm saying!

We got it alright, paisan.

What's on your mind?

Nothing.

No. You're thinking about the Garrone case.

I'm not!

You were here last night.

You have an alibi. Why didn't you tell the inspector that?

You felt ashamed, didn't you?

Even if I had told him, it wouldn't have done any good.

I was here but I left around 10:30.

Then I took a streetcar...

and when I got home, nobody saw me.

Everybody was asleep.

I would've had all the time in the world to kill Garrone.

Kill me too so that I don't suffer anymore.

How silly you are!

We have to prove that you're innocent.

Of course!

Of course! Don't worry.

Inspector Santamaria. Anna Carla Dosio. - Pleasure!

Please, take a seat.

This morning I was thinking of De Quincey. - Sorry? - Thomas De Quincey.

The author of On Murder considered as one of the Fine Arts. - Ah, yes! Sure.

What would you like, inspector? - Yes. A drink.

I mean...

...to the question who might've killed Garrone, we could reply that

in a time of neurosis like ours that of an unmotivated crime is a seductive theory.

No, no! Let's spurn seductions and be reasonable.

A real random murder must be random, or not?

Instead, we have a victim like Garrone who was hated by a lot of people.

Am I not right?

I was talking about the aesthetics of murder, not of its randomness.

Ponderings! Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?

So?

Well...

Mr Campi's theories are very interesting. - Thank you, inspector.

You men are always backing each other up. The mafia!

Maybe you're Sicilian. My apologies, inspector.

No, I'm from Rome. Not all inspectors are Sicilians.

Likewise, not all Sicilians are mafiosi. - You're kind!

I only started this argument in the hope of being helpful.

But if you prefer arguing over semantics, then, carry on, please. - No!

No, Madam! Please, give me a positively helping hand.

To begin with

you want to know if Massimo and myself have alibis for the last night.

Anna Carla. This might be the inspector's real problem but let him say it.

Say it, inspector.

Alright.

So, what's your alibi?

Gentlemen, the lunch is served. - Ah, right! Thanks, Teresa.

In the worst comedies this line closes every scene.

It's a rule to eat in peace.

Inspector...

You say: "What are your alibis?". I don't have one.

But I know some of Garrone's traits

that might help you with your inquiry. - You do? Please, do tell me.

I have a friend called Bona.

One day she dragged me to a lecture at the New Society Center entitled

"The infantile masturbation".

Garrone was at the exit.

Being childless, he was surely there to get some cheap thrills.

A bond between Bona and Garrone.

I was waiting for my husband. At one point, Bona walks away.

Then, Garrone starts staring at me and makes a very nasty gesture.

Really? And what did you do? - What could I do?

From that day on, whenever I ran into him he would always make that nasty gesture.

That's all that was between me and Garrone.

Still a bond. The mysterious accord between the victim and the killer.

Madam realizes that she's tied to an indecent relationship

with the shady man and she kills him. What do you say?

You, idiot! You and Vittorio, both laughing at it.

Do we want to help the inquiry, or not? - Vittorio Dosio is her husband.

Yes, he was laughing, but he might have been raging. Here comes another suspect.

I'm helping you with the inquiry. Am I, inspector?

Your husband... Did he know Garrone?

I don't think so. We mentioned Garrone to him.

So, are you going to provide your alibi for the night of the murder?

I never have alibis. But those who don't have an alibi, are innocent. Am I right?

A real killer gets ready for an alibi. - If that's so, I'm innocent as well!

Too easy!

Anna Carla has a half alibi.

She went to the movies but nobody saw her. The killers always go to the movies

on the night of the crime. - So do the victims. Pardon!

You want to know which cinema I was at? - Yes!

The Art House. The title of the film is The Whip.

Garrone too went to the Arthouse to see The Whip.

But... Is that one Massimo's lover?

Is he? Then, who's that woman?

It's Mrs Dosio.

Oh! Paolo! Come on! What are...?

Hey, wake up, Bettina!

At your age, how could you possibly be so naive?

Your Massimo is 40!

What is it?

I just thought of the murder weapon Garrone was knocked with.

He who lives by the sword... I told you what he was killed with.

He who lives by the... ahem... dies by the... ahem.

I mean, that stone phallus.

If it belongs to the killer, it's surely a lead.

You're wanted on the telephone. - Ah, thanks. Excuse me.

Thank you.

Of course I do.

No, you've got to say it!

Say: I love you.

I'm with my workmates. Triberti, Cerioni and Fogliatti.

I'm working for you. I'll get you out of the trouble!

No. For now, I can't tell you anything more. Tell me that you love me.

I've already told you.

I love you.

Won't you take off your jacket?

No, thanks.

What are you thinking about? - And you?

Oh, what you mean is: "I'm the one asking questions, baby!".

Is that right?

I was thinking...

What a different kind of day it is today.

That goes for me, too. - But you're not the suspect.

As far as I know, neither you are.

Don't say it! Otherwise, I'll have to go back to my gray daily routine...

doing my packing for the vacation.

By...

a different day I meant...

well... enjoyable.

That goes for me, too. - You're repeating yourself?

Sorry?

I can't try to imagine...

how an inspector spends his free time?

Well...

I listen to classical music... I read...

I'll keep the next Sunday clear.

Sure, darling. - Honey! Sweetheart!

I'm sorry. It was an old aunt, a bit boring.

Inspector...

Has Anna Carla gathered more proofs against me?

Massimo, this is from the Vollero exhibition.

I got this invitation too but I didn't go.

Garrone would throw himself at the buffets of every vernissage.

It's a good lead. Would you like me to take you there? - Don't bother.

Paintings and mythology at the Vollero gallery.

I'll drop by.

You've a thing about the Garrone case. With all the things happening today...

It's a mysterious murder. Not the usual robbery with roadblocks

and shootings between pimps.

To me, the killer is one of the high society. Scandal and blackmail.

No, no! It's Bauchiero, the surveyor. The one who went to the police. - Why?

50% of the time, the person who reports the murder is the killer.

Maybe, they were rivals. Garrone was designing gravestones

and perhaps Bauchiero was too.

Triberti! - What? - Can I take a look at your records of tombs and niches?

Three or four times! - Please, Cerioni! - I'm sorry!

When are you closing? - I have no idea, Madam.

No one wants to leave the city. They're afraid of the thieves.

If you can't even go on vacation

because you have to guard over your own house

or you'll be robbed of your paintings then I'm moving to Switzerland.

Surely you, Mrs Tabusso, won't feel safe. With all the criminals

hanging out around your place. - Who would've thought that my house

would turn into a brothel opened 24 hours a day?

Do lovers come there? - Yeah, right, the lovers!

All the whores do business in front of our house.

Watch out! You're hurting me! A battalion of sluts and pimps.

Do you know what we have to do every single morning in our garden?

The condom harvest!

I've filed dozens of complaints. Nothing! No-one gives a damn.

Mrs Tabusso, I know a police inspector. - Please, talk to him.

Is he from The Vice Squad? - He's working on the Garrone case.

We're witnessing a total relaxation of morals.

Everybody complains but no one does their duty. Apart from that Bauchiero.

Who's he? - The man who found the architect's body.

Instead of washing his hands of it, he went to the police straight away.

Fancy his lively memory! He even remembered the detail about the blonde.

They still haven't caught the killer.

He put them on the right track. With the detail of the tube.

And then, the other thing. A bag with the star of Italy on it.

Starfish!

What are you saying? Fish, what?

Well... the star. - How do you know?

I saw it!

Excuse me, please. Excuse me.

Three or four times, everyone!

Found anything yet? - No.

Your Bauchiero must be here among the projects by the deluded

looking for a client

willing to build a family vault with an inscription.

They don't realize there's no more room! Even a niche is a waste.

There's no getting away! The future is in cremation.

We live in the age of containers, no? Is he there or not?

Bauchiero isn't, but there's Garrone.

Garrone, Zavattaro Bros Ltd, marble cutters, Regio Parco. - So what?

What does this imply?

It means the client was brought by the cutter, not the architect.

It was a terrible blow, Sir.

I can still see him standing in front of this picture, the poor

beloved, peerless Garrone.

He left a great void. He had such a lovely verve.

But who? Who could have a motive to kill him?

I was just about to ask you the same, Mr Vollero.

No one, mind you! No one!

Am I right? He too was here that night.

That night, you saw Garrone.

Did he tell you anything which might be of help to us?

No. Nothing essentially interesting.

Just a moment! I'm lighting up.

Details are emerging.

The Piovano sisters were here that night? - Yes, yes!

At a certain point, one of them said... What did she say?

"Tonight, everyone's going to the flowers shop", then he said:

"No, no flowers tonight. I'm dealing with stones". Exactly like that!

He indeed said: "I'm dealing with stones".

At first, no one knew what he meant.

It could be some connection...

with the murder weapon. I'm just guessing!

Keep guessing. - Then he said another thing.

He made... a sweeping gesture and said:

"Soon, I'll be so rich that I'll buy all these daubs

and hang them in my bathroom!" Sorry! - Not at all. He didn't do it.

He did nothing at all.

Oh, Mrs Dosio, what a pleasure to see you here.

Do you know Mr Santamaria?

We've already met at lunch today.

I've found someone who saw the killer in the face

half an hour after the murder. Are you interested?

Anybody home?

Is anyone home?

Who are you?

I'm inspector Santamaria.

And I'm his colleague, De Palma. - Mrs Dosio sent you? - Duty.

Countess Tabusso? - Countess, my ass!

She's not a Countess. - Pardon me!

You should come here at night.

They leave their cars down there. You see? No, you can't.

They come up and do their dirty business in the valley.

Such a stream of people, as bad as Sodom and Gomorrah. Up to here!

One can hear voices and fees. The city is spreading and so are the whores.

A paradise destroyed by that scum. They fuck high and low.

They come through a break in the fence. - Why don't you close it up?

No use! You like my jungle? I haven't touched a single branch

since the death of my poor Cicci.

Halt! Wild strawberries, do not trample! Would you like some? You fell?

Look how beautiful this 17th century washtub is.

I had to turn the water off. They were using it as a bidet.

Madam, we should ask your sister a few questions.

About that woman with the tube? - Yes. - Come along!

You take the lift since you're unsteady on your feet.

It can carry both of you.

Come on, are you afraid?

You like my little train? I had it made for my poor Cicci.

He was paralyzed. Carrying him up and down was very hard work.

He weighted over 200 pounds, give or take.

My sister is dead scared that the blonde will come back to take revenge.

That's why she kept the secret until today.

Mind that she doesn't go out even in daylight.

Here she is.

Madam, tell us about the woman carrying the bag with a star on it.

Miss! - Oh, I'm sorry!

She hadn't digested well and she couldn't sleep... - Let her talk!

No, if you don't mind. She gets too upset.

It's better if I tell you. By now, I know it by heart.

That evening, we had Brussels sprouts.

You know what they are like? Period!

My sister got up and left her room. - What time was it? - Well, around 11.

So, my sister Virginia crosses the garden...

and goes towards the valley of the whores. She gets to the laurel...

She's always been a poetic type. Maybe she was listening to the crickets...

When all of a sudden, one of the parked cars on the clearing

turns on the headlights to leave. My sister hears a kind of rrrrr...

and that beastly creature jumps from behind a bush

looks up, sees my sister and runs after her with a stick

which was actually the tube, screaming like a banshee!

She saw the face? - A monster from a nightmare.

She came back home with her heart in her mouth. She read in the paper

that it was the same woman who knocked Garrone off with that tube.

She didn't mention it until today.

It was only when I was talking with Mrs Dosio that she loosened up.

Here! She has it all imprinted on here!

A beach bag with a starfish embroidered on it.

A starfish?

Now, will you clean out the valley? I asked the carabinieri

The Vice Squad... No-one gives a damn! Is it nice living among the sluts?

Mr Bauchiero, does that look like the star of Italy to you?

You're right! It's a starfish!

In short, the blonde, right after the murder was up at the Pretty Pears.

And Dosio Dosio, Campi Campi, where were they?

The rich don't need alibis.

Maybe neither of them has one because together they... - No!

Why not? - Tell him.

Massimo Campi...

is gay.

I must run. Bye. - Bye. See you.

No! They can see us. - Why do you always lock the car?

What about the thieves? - A 500...

You despise me, don't you? You think of me as an idiot.

Not in the least! I think you're an extraordinary guy.

Really? - Sure!

Swear it! - I swear. - I'm glad, you know?

Yes, because my worst fault is not having faith in myself.

Coming to dinner tonight? - I don't know. - We'll be alone.

Whoopee! That means I'll go the Zavattaro Bros tomorrow.

How they park their cars! - Zavattaro?

I'm investigating the Garrone murder. I'm doing it for you. I've got a trail.

What investigation? Not your problem. - What do you mean? You're into this!

No, no. Drop it, please.

Oh, thank you from the bottom of my heart and sorry if I dared to worry about you!

Enough!

Let me explain! There's a misunderstanding!

Forgive me, Massimo. - Stop it! - Forgive me! - You're ridiculous!

Delicatessens: first aid of wifeless husbands and wives with no servants.

The form has been updated today.

You won't mind if this is not much of a dinner? - Not to worry!

You can't hardly get a decent meal in the restaurant.

The other night at Il Capriccio, with the American...

He even sneaked off after the appetizer and he was right...

Dear Fontana, I'm not in the least interested in what Vittorio did that night.

Rather, from what time to what time was he away? - But...

Darling! Fontana is mistaken.

No, he isn't! So, you too don't have an alibi.

Alibi? What alibi?

Vittorio, either you were with some whore or it was you who killed Garrone.

What are you talking about? - Madam must be joking.

No, I'm not. Instead, tell me something.

Yes, Madam. - There...

A few month ago, you were telling Vittorio

a little nasty story.

Something about an obscene object.

When I came closer, you changed the subject at once.

I think I heard you say a name. Do you recall it?

It was hardly nothing. - I want to hear it, too.

The Dutch executives of the Eindhoven Company

were here to make a deal with us and they told me they had bought...

How shall I put it? Well then...

some stone phalluses...

made by an Emilian marble cutter.

What is the man's name? - Zavattaro.

Good! That's what I wanted to know. Thanks. - That's all? - Yes.

It might be a coincidence, but... - The villa of those dazed women.

And this is Campi's villa. It's a small world.

Mr Santamaria, it's for you!

Madam!

Hello? - Anna Carla Dosio.

Good evening! - Did you speak to Mrs Tabusso?

Yes, I did. Thanks a lot. - Was she of help?

We'll see tonight. - Why?

We're making a raid at the madam's property.

Oh, really? Good. I'm glad.

I have more news for you. It could be important.

You do? What is it?

Not on the phone! It may be bugged. - You mean yours?

No! Yours.

Can you come to my house in the morning? - Certainly!

I'll be expecting you. At 10 o'clock. Good luck! - Thank you. Good night.

I told her about the raid because I have an idea. - I know. - What do you mean?

Nothing. I was saying I'm ready. Are you ready? - Quite ready!

Oh, that's enough! My head's already spinning.

What's wrong?

I think...

that we wouldn't argue anymore if we could just have a baby.

I was kidding!

Listen!

How about going to the flea market on Saturday morning?

We'll get something for the villa. - Why? Everything's set.

Your room, too.

My room?

Yes. Why?

Separate rooms and everyone for himself?

I'm thankful that my room isn't way down in the cellar

as befits my low standing! - Come on, now!

Come to the castle, Cinderella but, at midnight, you're scullery maid again!

That's it! I can't stand you anymore!

I gave up women because they're pesky but you're worse!

Then go back to your women!

Yes. How are you?

No, I was in the garden. I had to dash.

What raid? At the Tabusso Sisters'?

How do you know?

Hold on a moment! I'll be right back.

Nobody moves! This is the police!

Don't move! - I don't have any clothes on!

It's just a raid. - No mercy, Sir! - Yes, we're unstoppable, Madam.

Gotcha! - Where are you touching me, you pig?

Pretend I'm with you. - Sure. Nicosia!

Pretend she's with you. - Come here! Move!

I don't want to! Let me go! Let me go!

I'll tell your wife! - Indecent exposure in a public place!

I'm on private property. - Exactly! Come along!

I'm a client. Is it a crime? - It is! Because this is my house.

Sure, it's a brothel.

Come along! Come along! This way.

Help the madam. She's in trouble.

This way.

Don't be afraid! Why are you running? Nicosia!

Stop her upstairs!

Nicosia! Coviello! Block the entrance to the villa.

I caught 5 of them. You left me alone! Where are you?

Hold still!

They're coming up!

Over there!

Come along! - Are you nuts? Can't you see I'm a lady? - I'm sorry!

You! Come along! - No!

Well?

Well, a few girls, a young man and... a gentleman.

Mr De Palma, where are you?

Do me a favor, you answer. My ribs can't stand the strain of shouting.

Nicosia, what is it? We're over here!

I found the following...

Corpus delicti!

Easy! I can walk on my own. Don't you worry!

Bernacca said low pressure and cool winds from the North.

Obviously, they got stopped at customs. Damn, at 4am, I'm a bundle of fun.

So, what's your name?

Fascetti Ermelinda.

You want me near the mirror? - You're fine right there, honey.

You work every night at the Pretty Pears? - It's not a question.

Just reply and you'll see it's a question. Come on!

It's a one-way mirror, Virginia. They can't see you!

Look. Is she the one? - Look carefully. Do you recognize her?

No, it wasn't her. The one I saw was, I can't explain...

She's much taller... More...

I don't fit the description of the wanted girl.

I ain't blonde and I'm not tall either.

Who told you we're looking for a tall blonde?

It's a small town. People gossip. May I go now? - Yes. - Go, go!

To... - ...fuck off!

Don't try to be funny.

This one is tall but she's not a blonde.

A dark-haired whore can't wear a blonde wig? Do I have to tell you that?

No, Madam. There's no need.

Next! - Give it here.

Anyone of you knows a tall blonde who wears this stuff?

That's right.

Can we fuck off too, Sir?

Please do. - Thank you!

Same to you. - Thank you, Madam.

We know who is responsible for this delightful night.

Those two harpies from the Pretty Pears. Tell them to fuck off, will you?

I sure will. - Thank you, Sir. - See you!

Did you hear that slut? You must protect us!

Yes, we'll take action. Hello?

Hey, Excellency!

The Chief called. He wanted the details on the raid.

Did you tell him that we found the bag near M. Campi's villa?

I did. He hung up pissed off like a trooper.

Sometimes, I think I made a mistake becoming a cop.

Inspectors! Inspectors! Turn of events!

Indeed, I wanted to be a tenor.

Eh, especially at dawn... My head is whirling with such thoughts.

At dawn, the balls are whirling too.

We can shout "Eureka"! Take a look!

It's that gay guy... That faggot

I talked about during my phone call, reporting what I found out

when I tailed him yesterday. Like this!

He was detained during the raid because he had no identification on him.

The windbreaker fits him like a glove.

Almost. - I have no ID because I left my purse at an acquaintance.

I don't understand, though, why I have to wear this windbreaker!

You can take it off. - Thank you.

Where does this acquaintance of yours live?

Answer!

Well? - On the hill.

What's his name?

You don't want to tell us?

I wouldn't want to implicate him.

It's a person of high social status.

Take his personal data and let him go. - Let him go?

These purses! I'm always losing them.

It's you, inspector. - Good morning!

Already at work? - I got up early after a sleepless night.

Worries? - The heat!

People should leave this city. My gardener has already done so.

Don't tell me you were just passing by? - I won't.

Did the raid go well?

How did you find out? - Anna Carla called me last night.

Her zealous informer told her. - And who would that be?

A new character in your private theater?

Ow, ow! I hope I didn't make a blunder.

Then I take that you also know the results of the raid.

Why should I?

Seven prostitutes, 3 slackers and a young man called Lello Riviera.

Why are telling me that, Mr Santamaria? - Try to make a guess.

The exquisite tact of our cops.

Last night, he was at your place. - The tact is cast off.

Hasn't Mr Riviera already told you that he dined here?

He made no such statement.

A very reserved person. A real gentleman.

What do you mean? If he hasn't told you, how do you know that we're friends?

Why are you getting excited? - How do you know? Mrs Dosio told you?

It wasn't her. - You're getting excited, now!

A man was killed... - It's a preposterous suspicion!

I have the duty to inform you.

The sadistic mechanism of pulling people's lives apart...

You shout too much, although this is your house.

Mr Campi! - Then you shout too!

Thanks, I don't have to.

Go and see Mrs Dosio.

She doesn't like to wait.

Tell me why Riviera left this place last night...

during the raid?

It's simple, inspector.

There are whores down the meadow. He probably went to see one of them.

Unless the constitution forbids it.

Your constitution does.

No, no, dear. At the meeting of the regional branches

I'll speak my mind. We must downgrade from 9 to 5!

Of course! Of course!

Sure, we know that. We've already told them. But...

Go to your room, Francesca.

Don't disturb your daddy. - Alright! We're already exporting in Germany...

I'm at your complete disposal. Very punctual.

Yes, we only arrive late when we are needed to catch muggers.

May I know where we are going?

Look in my purse. There's a yellow card.

I told you there's an address.

Why did you tell Massimo Campi about the raid?

Ah! That's why you're furious.

He's such a gossip.

I wanted to prove to him that it's not true he knows everything.

But, you're right.

Do you forgive me?

Yes, sure.

Zavattaro Bros. Marble, granite, arts and crafts, funeral monuments.

Stones. Stones again. As evidence, on the day Garrone was killed, he said:

"Tonight, I'm dealing with stones". Why are we here, Madam?

Yesterday, I found out where some Dutchmen had bought those...

I got it. I got it.

There, there, there, I smell a murderer.

Do you have a gun? - Let's try to be serious.

Is anyone here?

Don't be surprised at what I'm going to say.

Don't be surprised either.

You are the owner?

Mr Zavattaro? - Yes.

We came from Holland. You manufacture special objects?

What articles you want to see?

Special objects...

Would it be possible to see these special objects?

Just a moment. I'll go call my brother Osvaldo.

He worked in Germany. He speaks German. - Look, you don't need to. I'm Italian.

Then, why do you let that lady speak like that?

She's practicing.

This is the fantasy pavilion.

My brother Osvaldo, artist.

Do you have a sales network or something?

No. From the producer to the customer.

This one... Standard size.

Please, have you got a cigarette? - No!

My brother Osvaldo tried to make a miniature version, in marble

but not good.

Not appreciated. There's no demand.

These ones can fit everywhere!

Oh, we have here the big size.

King size!

In Sweden, they set these up in the front yard, "garden sculpture".

If you two are privates, a piece or two costs a lot.

If you're a company and you're diffusing our products

we may give you a percentage and grant discounts.

Who are you, Sir? The interpreter? - No, I'm a lawyer.

I represent the family of the architect Garrone.

The Garrone family?

So, who might that one be? Architect Garrone's friend?

The lady is a relative.

Really? - Don't you know that Garrone was murdered on Tuesday night?

What's that got to do with us?

We want information about the credits that Garrone had with your firm.

Credits? Here I put both the labor and the capital myself!

He was paid by commission, with each sale.

20 percent.

In a year, he must have sold no more than 20 pieces.

There are no credits! No credits. Did you understand?

There are no credits for anyone. Get out, you and this whore!

I didn't grasp the last word.

You're not a lawyer!

He's a bodyguard. - Let's go!

No, he's a cop! - I think he's a bodyguard.

Are those the killers? - No, no!

No, they wouldn't have left

that business to Garrone since they built it themselves.

We've learned that the murder weapon belonged to the victim.

Killed with his own sample.

Listen, you can drop me by a taxi.

You've got family and I assume... - The family is scattered.

My daughter is at school.

And my husband will have lunch at the office.

Then, if you will allow me... I'd like to invite you to lunch.

I know a place up on the hill.

Decent, sort of a farm house. Does it suit you?

Yes, yes, that sounds fine. Of course.

It's cooler up there. - Well, then!

Get out!

Are you crazy? I'll report you, you know?

I'll break your neck! - Help!

I don't know any surveyors!

I don't know this architect Garrone!

I don't know anyone!

How dare you?

Dirty snooper! That bitch wasn't enough!

Who the hell are you? Another relative?

You've smashed 18 dicks.

But I'll kill you, all the bodyguards, the cops and every Dutchman!

Just on the day when it's closed.

I've never been here.

Well, maybe...

Maybe?

I was going to say... Maybe it's more beautiful like this, with no one around.

The poetry of the deserted beaches and classrooms without students.

And rooms for illicit couples empty of their clients.

Indeed. How many shaky alibis could be substantiated here.

There's a hole in my husband's alibi. Did you know that? - Yes, I did.

And you perfectly know that. From 8:15pm on.

Right! That's why I'm talking about it.

There's a hole in every alibi he makes up so to spend the night out

which happens almost every evening.

There's also a hole in Massimo Campi's alibi.

I know one thing. If he had done it, he would've said so.

You didn't even understand him.

You should try your best to understand him.

Why are you laughing?

Nobody asks me to be understanding when the suspect is...

a poor fellow.

Massimo's a neurotic, I know. But he's also humble,

generous...

sincere... And above all, very intelligent.

Don't you and Massimo ever tire of being very intelligent at any cost?

It must be quite an effort.

An effort that you carefully avoid.

Yes, intelligence used only to kill time is...

Snootiness.

Snootiness?

If we must call a spade a spade.

Sweet!

You started insulting.

Do you forgive me?

What are you doing tomorrow? - My husband's taking the girl to Geneva.

You know, at times like these, with all the kidnappings.

She'll be much safer in Switzerland. It's like putting her in the bank.

Why did you ask? - So as not to run across another closed restaurant.

My house is always open. I cook very badly.

Have I been invited? - No, I'm the inviter.

Do you like fillet?

Peppered! - I'll buy some pepper. Well?

In that case... You see about the fillet

and I'll see about the cream, pepper and everything else.

It's... - Who?

You know him too? - Yes. He's a very good friend of my husband.

It's closed!

And that is certainly not his wife.

Why are you hiding?

Well, so as not to embarrass him. Anyway, I'm on duty.

Say, where were we?

Didn't you just say you're on duty?

Let's admit that Zavattaro was a mistake. Let's try this other track.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Regards to our illustrious layabouts of the Protective Restrictions office! - Hi!

Here is our skilful colleague Riviera from the subsection 4.

He needs your help.

Is by any chance in this office, waiting for approval

some building project by architect Garrone?

I don't know. We can take a look. - Thanks.

Do you know when it was submitted? - I wouldn't know.

I don't even know if it exists. - Our skilful colleague is playing detective.

Yes, that's all we need.

No, I say, with all the kidnappings, shootings...

you really had to give us this task?

What did I say? Of course, Sir.

So? - He's even more pissed off.

This time it's not our fault. - Why?

Forced abstinence, because the restaurant was closed. - So what?

He had to fast: no appetizer... and no entree. What did you find?

I questioned the Zavattaros, they've opposite alibis.

That fighter guy says he had a visit from a slim, frail, young man...

who was asking questions about Garrone. - Lello Riviera!

Alright.

I'll take care of Riviera and you get yourself another coffee.

There he is! That one!

He must be a cop. - He doesn't look like a cop.

He looks canny. I don't like him!

This is the wash house.

For many centuries, the Turinese women have washed their clothes in the Po,

still rich of "pretty pears".

Would you either leave or sit down? This way, you're interrupting.

Good morning, inspector! I'm glad to see you're interested in our lecture.

Please, make yourself comfortable.

The Po, the father of all the Italian and maybe all the rivers in the world.

The same etymology of the primeval name goes beyond the Mediterranean.

The ancient Greek called the river Potamos

and Potomac is the name the Indians gave to the river that runs through Carolina.

Virginia! - Ah, yes. Virginia.

Let's see... Not that one. This is a friend of ours.

The archeological adviser who collaborated to our documentary.

Architect Garrone, who sadly came to a bad end.

And this ends our lecture

on historic wash houses of the Turinese countryside. Thank you.

Why did you go to the Zavattaros to ask about Garrone?

You know that Zavattaro beat me up? May I press charges? - Yes.

Why did you go? - I'd rather not tell you!

Mind that we have enough evidence against you to take you to court.

If you think you can intimidate me, you're wrong.

Why didn't you tell me that on the night of the raid you were at Massimo Campi's?

How did you find out?

He told me himself. - Really?

Did he admit it freely? He wasn't embarrassed?

Answer me!

Frankly...

Is Mr Massimo Campi very suspect?

You see...

If you told me that Mr Campi is not suspected I'd be disappointed, you know?

Not because I feel any resentment towards him or maybe I do, a little.

But above all, because...

He's so much high and mighty with me.

So?

I've always tried not to overwhelm him since I know

that love can't be a chain, right?

In spite of that...

we came to a break-up.

It's a terrible thing. I no longer live.

And then... One last hope to win him back...

Not the right expression. I'd better say...

To be able to reaffirm myself in his eyes

and to prove to him that this wet rag here...

is capable of getting him out of trouble and helping the police too! Sir!

I only want to hear him say: "Well done, Lello! Thank you!".

Just that, Sir.

You're a southerner, aren't you?

Yes, but let it go. Cheer up.

When you made me wear that dress

you were so kind to me. I know why.

Southerners have a big heart.

Then? - I'll tell you.

At first, I suspected Bauchiero

because I thought he was a rival of Garrone. A wrong track.

You know when one opens a door and it's a door to a closet?

I looked around in the Building Permits offices at City Hall. And I found...

Oh, enough said!

You only need to know that I'm on the right track. - That is?

You've got to have a little confidence in me.

Tonight, I'm expecting a phone call about an appointment in the morning

which I think will be decisive. - With whom? - I can't tell you!

It's a little secret between us.

Tomorrow, though, after I've finished talking to that person

I'll come see you and you'll thank me!

Watch out! - Don't you worry!

You know what my Sicilian colleague says?

He who looks for what he shouldn't, finds what he doesn't want.

We have a fitting saying too.

The bad washerwoman never finds a pretty pear.

But I've already found mine. Goodbye!

From tomorrow on, watch over him.

They'll take me for a faggot.

They already took me for one.

Nice way of parking cars!

Luckily, I keep myself in shape.

What do they want?

Who? Ah, Riviera, yes.

No, Mr Santamaria is out. If you wish, you can talk to me.

A car was following you?

No, we haven't been tailing you.

We don't have white cars with a dented left fender.

Why didn't you open the door? - Because I was scared shitless!

Zavattaro beat me up. Now I'm being hunted down!

It might be that wild man. I'm working for you!

We appreciate that, thanks. - My pleasure!

You must find out who that car belongs to! - I'll take a note. We'll take steps.

Who drives a white 1500 with a dented left fender, plate unknown?

You don't know? What the hell are you doing? Sleeping?

What do you have there? - Stores, more than 100 sales points

as well as all the supermarkets. No-one sells bags like this in Turin.

Ah, the police asks for help, the police's hands are tied

the police can't shoot straight, the police can't find a fucking thing!

Look how lovely this ascribable seascape is, Mr Vollero.

Don't name names! How many times have I told you that, you idiot?

I don't buy here. I buy in London.

A nice seascape. Ascribable to whom? - Whoever you want to.

Have you got "My love over a variety"?

A disc by the Old Brefequets.

By John Brebreque. Brebrequets. My love!

Brebreque... Cats. Trop.

Learn English! Learn!

You hillbilly!

Does it grind pepper? - It grinds everything.

Nowadays, a pepper grinder is very popular. It's very kitsch.

How much is it? - £5.000. It's a bargain!

And this one? - £6.000.

I'll take it, then. - It's a steal!

What's that?

It's a gift to someone.

Lovely! - And what's this?

It's a gift to someone.

Genuine Faenza.

Ferniani 1700, unique work. - I need two of them, to use as lamps.

But we've got two unique copies.

Fixed price: £40.000, negotiable!

Excuse me, Sir.

I took this one too by mistake.

I don't know where my head is. - If madam lost her head

maybe she took the pestle, too? - What pestle?

Yes. A bronze pestle this big. It weighs at least 11 pounds.

Worth at least £10.000.

How come you're at the Baloon too?

Well, I have to meet someone at the graveyard of used furniture, but...

Everyone's at the Baloon today.

Bonetto, my husband, me, you...

Massimo... - Massimo? You saw Massimo?

I thought that... - I'm meeting someone else.

I'd rather not see him at all. It's too early.

But I can tell you.

I think I know who killed Garrone.

Soon, I'll have the proof, and then I'll talk. Goodbye!

Goodbye, Rivera.

Riviera!

Inspector Santamaria? The lad seems to know something important.

Yes, at the Baloon, the old furniture and knick-knacks marketplace.

Yes! I also report the presence of Mrs Dosio and her spouse

as well as Mr Campi and others. - Don't let her out of your sight!

See? You're here too.

What do you mean? - I saw Lello just now.

Lello? No, I haven't seen him.

I came here to find something for my villa in Monferrato.

But it's more expensive here than at the antiquarians' downtown.

He's meeting someone at the furniture graveyard. He looked a bit crazed.

He told me he's about to find out who the killer is and that he'd have the proof.

What's this story?

What did Inspector Santamaria find out?

Why are you asking me?

I made a blunder? - I don't see... - Well, today, really...

I've got to go. I'll call you tomorrow. - Bye!

It's not typical! You shouldn't stop at every stand.

Let it go, Felicia.

Tired?

I've lost Bonetto.

How unfortunate! - What?

At the furniture graveyard. - What is it? - They found a body!

Where have you been? - Just wandering around, looking...

Did something happen? - I don't know. Let's go see.

Where were you?

Idiot! You...

and him.

His head was smashed. - With a bronze pestle!

How do you know that?

Let's go! Nicosia, report to De Palma!

Mr Vollero, where are you going? Don't hide. Come on!

Come along! - Move aside! Move aside, please!

I don't have to explain anything to anyone. I won't answer your questions

unless I'm given a specific reason! Especially not in my lawyer's absence.

No one of you is a suspect, for now.

This is not an interrogation.

It's a request to make my report to the prosecutor.

And this is why you hold us here watching over us?

In a cellar? - We're lacking in lounges.

Would each of you be kind to tell me why you went to the Baloon today?

And where were you exactly at 12:35

when Mr Lello Riviera was killed?

Bonetto, don't answer! - Damn, what do you mean?

As if I had something to hide. Besides, why should I go first?

Because you're first in line. - If we begin with you, you're first!

Let's begin with the ladies. Madam, would you like to answer first?

I went to the Baloon to buy something. - What did you get?

No. It wasn't a bronze pestle.

A pepper grinder.

Is that forbidden? - You went all the way to the Baloon to buy a pepper grinder?

But...

Madam knew Riviera very well, and Garrone, too.

Be careful! Don't you dare to make hasty insinuations!

As I see it, the only one who could go to the Baloon to meet Riviera

is Mr Campi. And everyone knows why.

Shut up, you idiot! I didn't go there to meet him.

I had no idea he was there. Anna Carla, speak up!

You wrote that Garrone must be eliminated!

You were the last one to speak to Lello! You knew what he was killed with!

You know too much!

What do you mean? - The inspector avoids questioning you.

Aren't you ashamed? - What's this story? I demand an explanation!

Mr Santamaria, could you go out a moment?

So, all finished? Take their names and addresses, then send them home!

They're all suspects, some more than others.

And, maybe, the least is the most. - Talking in riddles?

Too many suspects, no culprit! An old rule.

I can already see the headlines.

Baloon: Big shots involved. High society of Turin terrified!

I'll be called a puppet of the rich industrialists.

I can already see you as a vile and corrupt official

bent to the wishes of the ruling party!

Your name's even Santamaria!

Home! Home! Send them all home. I'm your boss. That's an order!

You're the investigating officer. I don't want to interfere.

Remember what I've said. Actually, I said nothing.

We didn't even meet. Bye!

Inspector, all 3 of them are culprits! 1, 2, 3, murderers!

Sit down. - Are you crazy? How dare you? - You're all murderers!

Inspector, if that's so, he's a culprit too.

In front of witnesses I heard him say that Garrone

had to be killed, slaughtered... I don't recall the word but...

Will you please sit down? - Garrone was one of your worst enemies!

You're crazy!

He and I were doing some research on the stone washtubs.

Be quiet everyone! Fuck!

Leave me alone, you idiot!

Mr Bonetto, a moment ago you mentioned stone washtubs.

I did. Why? - Fine!

Those who are Piedmontese, may help me solve a problem.

Why is it that the bad washerwoman never finds a pretty pear?

What's a washerwoman got to do with pears? - In Turinese, a "pear" is a "stone".

There! - The bad washerwoman, never finds a good stone.

Because, since she's bad, she has no intention of doing... any washing.

In English you say... - We don't care. The Piedmontese is enough.

Mr Bonetto... - Tell me!

That night, Garrone told you: "I'm going to deal with stones".

Indeed. - And last night, Riviera too attended your lecture

because he was interested in stones. -That's exactly what I...

With your permission, we're going to see some stones. We'll be right back.

De Palma, let's go! - Where? - You don't get it? - Get what?

These gentlemen are our guests.

I told you the car's overloaded. - Let me do the talking.

Are you accountant Cerioni from subsection 4? - Yes, why?

We had a call from the HQ. You've got to go back to town.

Your mom must be dying. - Am I not here? - Right!

No, it's urgent.

Come on! We're leaving!

What happened? - Later. Big things.

Let's go! - Hurry up, or we'll arrive late at night.

Found it!

Have any idea what was the tube the blonde was carrying?

A parcelling plan. Let's go see that Regis.

What are you doing? What manners! I forbid you to...

What a nice view, Mr Regis.

Leave that telescope, please...

Come! Come! Take a look.

Where are you going? Come here!

This is why you were good friends, right? - He was my only real friend.

It's not easy when you're keen on...

beauty.

There are strong prejudices against voyeurism.

Peeping Toms.

It is dangerous to spy on the couples at night.

We're going to the headquarters. - No! I beg you! Don't take me along!

The neighbors! - If you talk here, we'll save you the embarrassment

and something worse too, right? - Right. We're not made of wood, after all.

Come on, let's get back to Garrone.

I swear that...

I helped Garrone unselfishly.

I work at City Hall, Protective Restrictions office.

He was seeking payback for the many humiliations he endured.

He found out, while working on a documentary

that on a lot planned for parcelling

were the ruins of an old washtub.

That way, the project could have been halted.

Who's that?

Friends! Inspector Santamaria. - And his colleague, De Palma.

Stand in front of the eye hole, so that I can see you!

In profile too.

Alright.

Pretty nice here at the Pretty Pears. - Which in dialect means pretty stones?

Yes, the old washtub's stones. - Indeed.

So, your sister is not at home? - No.

She went... - ...to the Baloon. - No, no!

To the cemetery for the 22nd.

May I offer you something to drink?

The 22nd... what?

The 22nd anniversary of the death of her poor husband, Cicci.

She goes every year.

It's been all quiet here since our raid, no? - Yes.

Not really! I got a fright just yesterday.

I was in the garden and down there I saw...

A young man who looked like...

a suspicious-looking individual but my sister came out to talk to him

and we learnt that he was an agent. - A blond, slim guy? - Yes!

But he didn't look like an agent. - No, he wasn't an agent.

What the heck do you want? - To ask you a few questions.

Go and help Palmira... shell the peas. Go! Go!

I offered the gentlemen a drink. Did I do wrong? - No, you did very well.

Go, go! Go shell the peas, Miss. It's better.

Mrs Tabusso... Let's have a little chat, shall we?

You know that at the Baloon, Mr Riviera was beaten to death with a pestle?

Oh, yes, you know. Do you?

Yes, you do, because we've got proofs.

What are you trying to say? - That you were down at the Baloon today.

Before going to the cemetery, if you went there at all. - I did go.

At least 10 people saw me. - But you were also seen at the Baloon.

More precisely, by a traffic policeman. The envelope!

Parking ticket, with time and license number. All in one.

Is it against the law to go to the Baloon?

That would depend on what you went there for.

Madam...

Your driving license, please?

You don't have a license? - She doesn't have the bag.

You left it in the car?

It must be that 1500 with the dented fender.

I'm going to check. - No! I'll go! - No! Don't bother, Madam.

Dear Madam...

You brought the money, I see.

Well done!

Unfortunately, there's a slight hitch.

You see... It's not enough anymore. No!

My friends at City Hall have doubled the sum they demand.

It was difficult to lift the restriction on the land that you want to parcel out.

But you'll make vast amount of money. Oh, yes, huge money!

If the permission is needed, you have to pay double the price. Take it or leave it!

You want to see your project approved? Here it is! But, money first.

Watch but don't touch!

Is it in there? - It is.

Yes, the pestle was still in her purse.

The one who took her in was Lello. Poor thing. He figured it out.

At City Hall, the projects...

And then "the pretty pears". We would have never guessed.

Anyway, she confessed to all. Know what she said?

Riviera, what's-his-name... Garrone

a swine and a pederast who deserved to end up like that.

See her mentality?

Hey, you sleeping?

Oh, I'll be damned!

It's late! I've got my duties.

No! No! Wait! Listen!

What duties?

Even on Sunday? - I've got to do my packing.

I couldn't do it before. Because of your inquiry.

Sorry!

We're leaving tomorrow.

When will you get back?

I don't know. We're going to Switzerland in September. Bye! - But... Anna Carla!

Whatever.

Looking for a cab? - Yes, but no one around.

Get in. I'll give you a ride.

The town is empty. Almost everyone has left.

You can't even get a taxi.

Do you say "taxi" or "cab"? - Me? I say "taxi".

I knew it! I say "cab", but this time, you can't disprove me

since you say "taxi" in London and it sounds so silly and vulgar.

You say "cab" in New York. - Let's call it quits! - No, in Italian...

The bourgeois say "taxi". - The twits say "cab".

Better than accountants! - Wrong! The accountants. - Bastard!

English subs by: CosmoVitelli, KG, 2013