All language subtitles for DFHGDDSGTGGYHG.Title3

— I'm tellin' ya.
- What you gonna do with a mother like that?

- Hey wouldn't pay you nothing?
— No, he's yellin' it's my fault...

Hold it, Carla.
Wait your turn, darling.

Bitch! That's not fair.
Shit!

Well, let's get at it.

No...!

No!

— Marcella what?
— We don't know her last name yet.

But, nickname's "La Tuscana".

Strange. Tuscans generally
aren't the superstitious kind.

As a matter of fact, she was Southern.
Sicilian or Calabrian.

Well, see if you can find out
why they call her "La Tuscana".

Yes, Sir.
I'LL get on it right away.

Look. Let me get rid of this, at least.
I mean, we've got to be reasonable, clear.

- Or you'll look like a piece of fruit cake!
— You're telling me.

I want to get married
in white with orange blossoms.

Well then, insist on it.
While there's still time to.

That's too dangerous.
You know how stubborn Mario is.

— I sure do.
— He might cancel the wedding.

Hello?

Yes, she is...

I think she's free. I'LL ask.
Just a moment.

- Giulia? It's a call for you.
- Thanks.

Hello? Hello?

Boutique Jolie?
Oh boy! Hello?

Cut off. It happens often at this hour.
They'll probably call back in a minute.

All I can say is,
faced with that dress...

- I'd rather give up marriage...
— Oh yeah?

I noticed you haven't given up
selling my stuff.

Can I help it if people go
for nutty designers these days?

— Ciao, Mario.
- Ciao. What'd you take away the scarf for?

So you're the culprit.
Wanda...

Take this away,
and you'd ruin the whole design.

- It'd make her look like some sort of call girl.
— I beg your pardon!

Wanda, just carry out my designs.
Haven't you gotten rich on them?

Here. Have the cutters start on these.

— It's the winter line for St. Moritz.
- Yes, Master.

- Mario?
- Yeah?

Did you tell anyone that I had
an appointment here?

- Why?
- Someone phoned a moment ago.

He asked for me,
but there was no one there when I answered.

That happens to pretty girls.

Uh, listen. Are you coming
to that opening with me tonight?

No. You should enjoy your last
free hours as a bachelor by yourself.

Sure...
With a bunch of abstract painters.

Good evening. La Nuova Pesa Gallery.
Yes, we're having a show opening tonight.

I'll see if I can locate her for you.
Just a minute.

Could I have that name again,
please?

Kathy Adams? Hold on.

Hello?

Hello, who is this?

Well? Hello!

Ciao, Kathy. Ciao!
Tomorrow at ten. Don't forget!

I won't, Lariana. Cheerio!

Oh, poor kittens... Yes...

Oh, you're starving,
aren't you?

You have a very bad mommy.
I hope you're not going to denounce me to...

How do you call it in Italy?

"La societé
per protezione di anmiali".

Yes, yes, yes, yes.
I'll give it to you.

There we go.

Come on, darling.

That's it.

Oh, you're angry.
Of course. That's right.

My poor kitties...
I forgot, didn't I?

I forgot to open the door for...

Who's there?

Who's there?

You really think
it's only a coincidence?

It's like that everywhere nowadays.
It's the latest fashion.

Let's make an hypothesis.

Two dead girls and a single killer.

Now, did the girls know each other?
And what could they have had in common?

- That's easy. They were both found half naked.
- The English girl was in her apartment...

- and getting ready for bed.
- Was she...

- Yes, all alone.
- Okay. But, take a...

Right now, the main thing is
to identify the other one, "La Tuscana".

Oh, please, darling,
the window.

- You laugh, huh? Yeah, it's a riot.
- Call the conductor.

- While I'm at it, you want a coffee?
- No, thanks.

- Well, I'm gonna go for a sandwich, okay?
- Okay.

Ah, go on, Mario.

Lady, are you alright?
Oh, my God.

That's Sylvio, a designer. Sylvio Gragert.
He works with me.

Giorgio Romani.
Just a friend, of both of ours.

That's Bruno Belli.
He used to be in love with Giulia.

He's married now.
His wife had twins a couple of weeks ago.

That's Giovanni Nepal,
the janitor from my old apartment.

Who's he?
That one, I don't know at all.

No, I shouldn't think you would.

That's police, Lieutenant Renzi.
Very clever.

A distant relative.

Kid who works in our office.

In other words, all friends.
Not a stranger in the lot.

Yeah. Looks like it.

Looks like we scored
a big, fat zero.

Do you read the news at all?

The police always score big, fat zeros.
If it weren't for inside info here and there.

Only, in these cases
there's never anyone to come up with it.

When did you
first meet your wife?

Three years ago.

Vino Betello,
her father owned the hotel there.

After her father died, Giulia sold out
and then came on down to Rome.

Then, out of the blue,
we met again.

So, for a while there,
she might have been doing anything.

Come on, you're not still trying to find
a connection with the two other killings?

- How come you're so sure there's none?
- Because it's impossible.

What in the world would Giulia
have in common with those two girls?

- That's the question.
- And, a psychopathic killer like him...

would also have left his trademark with Giulia.
This pin, or whatever it is.

The arrival of the conductor
prevented it.

Some mail came for your wife
at her old address this morning.

Or whatever it is.

Well, how's our victim?

You had a very nice funeral.
Lots of flowers.

— What an awful pity I wasn't there.
- Whoever your attacker was...

for the time being, it's best
that he believes that you were there.

Let's hope it's not going
to be for long, Inspector.

You sure this means nothing to you?
Think very hard.

No. Nothing.

And you're sure you've never met
this woman before?

No. I thought all night long, but...

Well, you see, I'm not much good
at remembering faces.

Just have no memory for them.

Because of your shock I've held this
one back until now.

- That's Inez! I'm sure of it!
- Inez?

- She worked at our hotel.
- Are you positive it's her?

Absolutely.
She was a very good girl.

She wasn't a very good maid.
But she tried awfully hard.

She came
from some village in Calabria.

- But she was known as "La Tuscana".
- The hotel's in Tuscany, though.

- Did you ever run in to her here?
- No. Never.

Can you think of anyone who might have had
a grudge against this girl, Inez?

- Someone with a grudge against you, too?
- Against me and Inez?

- Mario, do you remember Rau?
— Rau? No. No, I don't.

Of course. You never met him.
Giovanni Rau. Sort of an unpleasant guy.

He was more or less engaged to Inez.
But then he stole from the hotel...

and was arrested.

In fact, I denounced him.
And Inez was for it.

And, why do you say
she was for it?

He took advantage of her job
to commit the robbery.

And, when she found out,
she felt humiliated.

She was very proud
of her honesty.

- Now, come on, Rau, confess.
- Admit it, Rau, you're the murderer.

- Never met no Kathy Adams.
- Inez Tambourini, you knew her.

- Giulia Torresi, you knew her.
- Yes, but it wasn't me that...

- Let's say the conductor recognized you.
- He couldn't. I wasn't there.

- Where the hell were you Tuesday night?
- I'm innocent, I swear it.

- I want to talk to my lawyer.
- Tuesday night, Rau...

you gonna tell us where you were.
Go on. Confess, Rau.

- On Tuesday... I forget, Lieutenant.
- You killed the English woman that night!

- No.
- Tuesday night, Rau!

I'm not... I'm not sure.

I know Rau.
He's a louse and a petty thief.

- But, I doubt that he's capable of murder.
- You agree then with Inspector Vismara?

If Rau is innocent, the real killer
is still free to murder at will.

- In which case you're much safer here.
- No. I've had enough of this place.

Let's go ahead as we planned.

We'll let everyone believe
that I'm dead for the moment.

And when we come back, we'll see
about taking a decision with the police.

I'd be the happiest guy in the world
if it was all cleared up when we get back.

Mario!

It's from Vismara.
A little souvenir.

He says that with this,
your case is closed.

Let's put it all down to a maniac.

Who runs around killing and presents
trinkets to all of his girlfriends.

Wait. Now I recognize it.
Seeing it on a key-ring, it looks different.

Two years ago there was an American
who had one just like it.

He left it on his table in the restaurant
at our hotel one day.

Yes, I'm sure.
He was an American.

He was tall, young...

- Only, his face escapes me.
- Do you remember his name by any chance?

No. I never knew it.
He wasn't a client of ours.

Just came to the hotel to eat.
He lived in a resident's hotel.

Yes, that's right.
The River del Sole.

- Well?
- We'll drive on up to the hotel...

- and see if anyone there can recall him.
- Okay.

Poor Signorina Torresi.
Unfortunately, I never actually met her.

When I bought the hotel,
it was all done through our lawyers.

But, when I saw her name in the paper,
I recognized it immediately.

What a monster to knife a girl like that.
Are you the police?

- No. I was just hired to investigate...
- I see, a private detective.

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid
your trip was for nothing.

Our personnel since then
has changed completely.

The former barkeeper was still here.

But then, he left for Switzerland
a month ago. So there's...

Hm, nobody.

Police are intensifying
their search for the killer...

...who last Thursday
stabbed a young woman to death...

in her sleeping compartment
on the Rome-Paris Express.

Although there are no further clues
regarding the killer's identity, police maintain...

- Why are we going back to the hotel?
- To have a look at the old registers.

By law, you have to keep them
for five years.

- So?
- Let's try to trace some of the guests.

Maybe there's someone
who has a better memory for faces than I.

But are you certain
it was two years ago in September?

September or October.
It was the end of the season.

There's one page missing.
The one for September 29, 1969. See?

Yeah. It was ripped out.

Listen, has anyone else asked
to see this register?

Not that I know of, no.

Just a minute. Now that you asked me,
there was something odd a few months back.

One day my wife went in
and found the books in disorder.

- If you'll wait, I'll go and check with her.
- Well, let's assume the page is missing.

Have a look and see if there are
any changes from the 28th to the 30th.

- What changes?
- Compare the names.

Whoever was in the hotel
on the 28th or the 30th...

must've also been present
on the 29th.

Sure, but what it there was someone
who only spent the 29th here?

No. That wouldn't have happened
in September.

Luciano Augusto, the 28th...
Luciano, the 30th.

Ferri, Raffaele and Ferri, Anita,
the 28th and the 30th.

Kathy Adams.

How could I have remembered
Miss Adams?

She was only here four days,
from September 27th until the 30th.

If the guy who ripped out the page did it
because he wanted her name to disappear...

he'd have ripped out four pages,
wouldn't he?

Obviously that wasn't it
since he only took one.

He wanted the list of guests
on the 29th...

who were all here
on the day before and the day after.

- I've got them all listed here.
- Let me see something.

Anita Ferri, Kathy Adams,
Elena Marchi.

I remember her.
And also the teacher, Concetta de Rosa.

Four women.

Oh, no, there's another woman, Anna Sartori.
That makes five.

And then, there's poor Inez.

— And myself.
- Well, that's seven. So?

What you said: A man who likes to run around,
giving silver half moons to women.

What if he only bore a grudge
against these women?

The American with the key-ring.

Three out of seven.
And all women.

He killed Inez, Kathy Adams...

and then he tried to murder you
on the train.

Sure, it's a good theory. But...

If what we think is true, then the other
four women might also be in danger.

You can relax now, Mr. Gerosa.
No. Nothing to worry about. He's confessed.

I say Rau confessed.
Giovanni Rau.

We'll give you the whole story
when you get back.

You're on your honeymoon now, so enjoy it.
Enjoy it.

Wait! I'm not through yet!
Listen!

- Well?
- You heard the whole thing.

The Lieutenant
cut me off right in mid-sentence.

Mario, after all,
they're the policemen.

Since when are you so damn sure
that the police can do no wrong?

- Can I see your Rome phonebook, please?
- Rome phonebook? Sure.

Here you go.

Here, they're always trying
to force things down your throat.

- Sit down.
- I'm not as loony as they think.

That's for sure.

Just waiting her chance.
I tell you, she's just waiting her chance.

It's not the first time
she's tried to kill me, Franca.

Franca, you've got to help me.
I don't want to be killed.

Of course not, Marchi.
Now, try to calm down.

- Go on. You'll be alright.
- Look. She's playing very innocent, isn't she?

But she'll kill me
the first chance she gets.

She wishes me in hell.
That woman's a devil!

She's not a devil at all.
Now, calm down.

She is.

You don't believe me, Franca.
You must, though. Please. You must.

No one wants to hurt you, Signora Marchi.
Come, lie down for a while. You're tired.

Go look. Under that pillow.

You know what's under that pillow,
Franca?

She's got a knife
hidden under there.

- No.
- Yes, I saw her hide it there.

It's a thermometer.

- See? It's just a thermometer.
- No...

It was a knife, though.
She's a devil. She changed it.

Mad.

- There was a knife there.
- Yes. No, you have the correct ward.

Hold on a minute, Sir.

- Signorina Marchi has a phone call.
- Do you hear that? It's for you.

You don't want to talk?
Tell them to call back later. Come on.

Could you poss...
Hello?

- Did you get the wrong number?
- No. Marchi doesn't live there anymore.

Have we tried all of them now?

All except Conchetta de Rosa
who is in Palermo.

Rig ht.

Anita Ferri is dead a year, natural causes.
Anna Sartori married Palmieri...

and they're touring Australia.
So Elena Marchi is most likely the next.

Then we've got to find her, Mario.

Look, tomorrow I'll find Vismara
and tell him the whole story.

No.

- Come on. He's not gonna get her tonight.
- Just the same, that woman's in danger.

Alright, alright. We'll do what you want.
I just hope we manage to find her.

The Signora became real bad.
The owner of the house had her move out.

And I think she went to her sister's
in Via Castellini.

No, wait a minute...

I'm not sure.
It could have been Via Castellino?

Via Castellino?
That's all the way across the city.

Either Via Castellino
or Via Castellini.

If I recall correctly,
she said a building with an iron gate.

I see no iron gate.

I guess it's Via Castellini.

Listen, how about letting
Via Castellino go until tomorrow?

Yes, it would be
the most reasonable thing to do.

Let's go.

That's right.

Now, get yourself
a good night's sleep.

And don't think
about those awful things anymore.

You promise me?

Take your pills.

Go to sleep now.
Good night.

- Wait. Listen, Franca.
- Yes?

Please stay here a while.
I'm afraid.

There's no reason to be.
Come on. Go to sleep now.

There's an iron gate.

- She's in the hospital, like I told you.
- Yes. But which hospital?

I don't know.
One of those loony people's hospitals.

Maybe we could look around
and see if you got the phone number.

- Let me in a sec...
- Oh no! I don't let anyone in at this hour.

I'm not gonna hurt you!
Open up!

Franca.

Franca.

Franca!

Franca!

Help!

Franca, help!
Open the door! Let me out!

Franca!

It's the Marchi lady. I've had it
with that persecution complex of hers.

- Didn't she take the tranquilizer?
-Yes.

- Give it a while, then. She'll calm down.
- Help! Franca!

Franca! Help!

Open the door!
Open the door, please!

Franca! Open the door!

France, open the door.
Open the door.

Open...

Open the door...
Oh, Franca...

Wait here, okay?

- Look. It's a matter of life or death.
- Didn't you call a few minutes ago?

Yes. Nurse, would you let me
talk to Signora Marchi?

I told you on the phone, Sir,
it's after visiting hours.

And anyway, you'll have to get permission
from the director.

- Then what?
- As I said, I never got a look at his face.

The lights went out all of a sudden
and I was terrified.

Right.
You can go back to work.

Where's Palumbo?

He's out trying to get information
on those other women from the hotel...

and the American
Gerosa mentioned to you.

Ah, are you still here?

What are you waiting for?
The press to take pictures of you?

Do you mean to say, you think
I did this for publicity's sake?

I don't think anything.

All I know is you were
at the right place at the right time.

And looking at it from that angle,
you might say your alibi's almost perfect.

- Just have you got against us?
- Your rashness.

Now, why don't you take your wife on home.
After all, we're still responsible for her safety.

You? For her? Let's drop it, man, huh?
You know what I say?

You police can go to hell with your methods.
I'll look after her myself.

- Listen, Mario...
- Let's go.

Nevertheless, for the moment,
your wife stays dead.

Renzi?
I want two men outside their house.

- Why didn't you tell me he called?
- Just then we'd torn Rau's alibi to shreds.

How was I to know?
He confessed everything...

That's two nights without sleeping.
You gave him the third degree? Well done.

If that ever gets to the press, it's out to
the boondocks for the rest of our careers.

- When's the one in Australia due back?
- Their mate said, the next week, or so.

The next week or so...
How many days? How many hours?

I did the best I could, Sir.

Let's hope you did a little better
with the other one.

- What's her name?
- De Rosa. Concetta de Rosa.

Her permanent residence is in Palermo,
where her family is.

The last four years, up to this year,
she taught in Perugia, Todi and Urpino.

How's it possible for our murderer
to find out she lives here in Spoleto?

The same way as you.
By calling the Department of Education.

I'm going to Rome.
You understand?

I was...

going...

to Rome.

- Signorina de Rosa?
—Yes?

- The director would like to speak to you.
- Now?

- Right away.
- Be quiet for a moment.

You'll be under police surveillance
24 hours a clay.

You're not to go anywhere
on your own.

We'll be listening to all calls on your phone
and any calls for you here. Got it?

And if you ever think of anything...
if you could help any investigation...

A tall, fellow American.
But, I'd remember him if I'd met him.

You see, I do remember Signora Marchi,
the maid, and poor Signorina Torresi.

Two more guardian angels.
They've come for the changing of the guard.

Come on, honey,
the world thinks you're dead forever.

I've had our place
in Parioli closed.

And I used a fake name when I rented this pad.
So relax, will you?

I know, but I'll never feel safe
until they get him.

- Are you absolutely sure there's nothing else
you can recall about that American?

Oh, please.
Don't start that again.

Let me see. You said the only time
he came to the hotel was to eat.

- Isn't that right?
- Yes.

Doesn't it seem a little strange to you
that someone living in one hotel...

would go to another
just to have his meals there?

- There's no logic in it.
- Nothing makes any sense in this story.

And now,
three women have been killed.

Could make sense if our friend had some
special reason of his own for going there.

Well, our food was good.

Score one for the good guys.

Ah, if we could just put a face
on his damn ghost.

That list of addresses from the hotel register,
you kept it, didn't you?

Yes. Why?

That's enough, boys.
Stop it! Quiet down! Quiet!

I'm looking for a certain Signore Ferri.
A Raffaele Ferri.

You've found him.

Not like that.
The lips are much thinner.

I've got a photographic memory.
I was born with it and developed it.

The face of this American will
always be on file on my brain...

even though
his name escapes me.

So, show me what you've got.

Yes. Yes, that's him alright.

Tell me, did you ever talk to the man
there at the hotel?

You know how it is
when you're on holiday.

One night, my wife invited him to our table.
We talked about this and that.

And, you know why he remained so impressed
on my mind? Because of a contradiction.

The man was a protestant.
Yet, he went to mass every single Sunday.

He was a fanatic
for Gregorian chants.

You're sure he wasn't catholic?

Positive.

- Well, goodbye, Sir. And thanks.
- You're welcome.

I don't know. I can't say.
It's a completely unfamiliar face.

- He's American, you say?
- Yes, American.

I draw a complete blank, I'm afraid.

- In other words, you can't help me?
- No. I'm awfully sorry.

- No harm in trying. Thanks all the same.
- You're welcome.

- Good morning.
- Goodbye.

I'm one of the oldest
and most deciduous members here.

He doesn't belong to our church.
I've never seen him. Well, I'm sorry.

PROTESTANT-LUTHERAN CHURCH OF ITALY
SUPERINTENDENT'S DISTRICT

A face like that?
Certainly not around here.

Why don't you try where the artists hang out.
You know, painters, hippies, vagabonds...

Thanks for the advice.

Hey, man, you got a little something
for a nicotine freak?

- You got a match?
- Oh, sure. Just a minute.

Thanks.

Hey, man, I know this cat.
He's a friend of Barrett's.

- Who?
- You got a 1,000 more for a candy freak?

Yeah, a friend of Barrett's.
Thanks, man.

- Uh, where's Barrett?
- Screwing, clear.

You...

Who's Barrett?

What do you want?

Frank.

- You know that queen, Jack?
- Yes. But...

- I don't know where to find him right now.
- And why should I know?

July '69
was the last time I saw him.

Sure got hung up on some chick,
I heard.

- You mean, Frank had a girl?
- Hold still, damn it.

- You were saying, Frank had a girl.
- Yeah. And I haven't seen him since then.

I got back from the States a month ago,
anyhow, so I can't help you.

- So long, Jack.
- Wait a moment.

- Just who was this girl?
- What's the matter? You jealous?

Now, you listen to me and listen good.
I don't feel like kidding around...

and I haven't got the time to smash
your face in, so answer me straight.

Alright. You asked for it.

I never met the bitch,
and I couldn't give a shit.

That door's open all the time.
I don't give a shit for anything.

- Did this belong to Frank?
- I think so. Where did you get it?

Someone had the bright idea of sending it
to my wife in the mail one day.

- Uh, what's his name again? Frank...
- Saunders.

IF YOU KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT
FRANK SAUNDERS, CALL 3072200

I'll be right outside.

- Good afternoon.
- Afternoon.

- Anything new?
- Not a thing. Just a telephone call.

- Who was it?
- The parish priest...

wanting to know
why she didn't go to mass yesterday.

And if she doesn't go today either,
so much the better.

As a matter of fact, she is going, sir.
I sent Salvi and Garozzo with her, of course.

- When did she leave, Lieutenant?
- About twenty minutes ago.

Let's hear the tape
of that phone call.

She's in the confessional.

I'm sorry, Father Annfbale,
but I just couldn't get there yesterday.

Yes, I understand.
But that's not the only reason I called.

It's about the new religion text book
for the High School.

I'd be very interested
in your opinion of it.

Of course. Come in when you like.
Any time after four, I'll be here.

- Alright, Father.
- Thank you, Concetta. Goodbye.

Ah, excuse me.
I'm sorry to bother you.

I was looking for Signorina de Rosa,
who is going to come to see me.

But, unfortunately,
today has been total confusion.

I received a call
to attend a dying man.

When I got there, he was fine.
Well, now that I'm here...

I'd like to leave these books.
Tell her she needn't bother to come.

- What are you doing out here?
- Salvi's inside...

- Where is she?
- She's confessing, Sir.

- Which one?
- That one.

Concetta de Rosa, a teacher,
was found murdered a few hours ago.

The police is stating the killer
is once again the "Half Moon Maniac"...

making this his fifth murder.
The fact that the victim was strangled...

...in a local church has brought a special
bizarreness to this incredible Case.

Hello, Mario? Where are you?
What...

Technically,
down at the Daily America.

Yes. I heard about it.
Look, please Giulia, stay calm.

Yes, yes.
I'll get home as soon as possible, okay?

Yes, I promise you.
Ciao. Ciao. Ciao.

Awfully sorry to have kept you waiting.
Mr. Saunders is not listed as taking delivery.

- Oh, well, I guess I'm just unlucky.
- You're not, you're very lucky.

I looked in the archives.
Delivery to him was stopped two years ago.

Via Casal Bruciato 8.
Miss, you're a genius. Thanks very much.

Not at all.

- What did he want?
- The address of a subscriber.

Someone called Saunders.

Is there anyone here?

Are you looking for Frank Saunders?
Are you?

That's right.

Go to the Via Caio Cestio number 6.
Have you got that?

Via Caio Cestio number 6.
But, who am I speaking to? Hello?

Hey there.

- Looking for someone?
— Yes. For an American.

- What's the name?
- Frank Saunders.

Saunders? Saunders...

Saunders... Saunders...
Saunders...

Signore, over here.

I believe I've found him.

- You did say Frank Saunders, didn't you?
- Dead.

Well, what'd you think?
You were gonna find him alive here?

- Strange. Orchids stained with red.
- Pretty, huh?

But not the kind of flowers
you bring to a grave.

Seven orchids and seven women.
Who brought them?

Poor fellow. This is the first respects
anyone paid him since the day he was buried.

There's been no flowers,
no visitors, nothing.

And what a sad funeral it was.
The kind that hospitals give to poor people.

- You mean, that's where he died?
- Yep. The American Hospital.

The American Hospital.

- It was fabulous. I can't wait to get back.
- That goes for me, too.

Palmieri.

Is this your wife here?
Anna Sartori?

- Yes. Why?
- Please come with us. It's only a formality.

It's ridiculous.

It's absurd.

My husband hasn't even smuggled
in a carton of cigarettes. Imagine drugs.

Of course, but you see,
whenever we get these calls...

Calls or not calls.
You should check it before bothering people.

I'm sorry, Ma'am.
I'm just following orders.

- I don't know what to say. It sounds so unreal.
- Yes, it does...

but there are four dead women
to prove it.

Correction, five women.
Five victims, Signore Palmieri.

And we want to prevent your wife
from becoming the sixth.

Yes, I agree with you.

- But, what worries me is...
- We've already taken into account...

her emotional balance, which,
according to your mother-in-law, is a bit...

- shall we say fragile?
- She suffered a shock a while back.

And she's never completely recovered.
And now this...

- And God only knows how she'll react.
- We'll use a drug bid as our excuse.

That way, we should be able to protect her
without her suspecting anything.

Frank Saunders.
Yes, I remember him very well.

He died as the result of a car accident.
But, in my opinion, he was murdered.

- Murdered?
- Not in the scripted sense of the word...

but just as cold blooded
leaving the scene of an accident.

You see, Frank wasn't the driver of the car.
It was a woman.

Why she ran off and left him to bleed to death,
I have no idea.

Perhaps she lost her head,
or didn't want to face the responsibility.

Or else, she could have had something
she wanted to hide.

One thing I do know, though...
If he'd been brought here an hour sooner...

- I could have saved Saunders.
- And, wasn't this woman ever found?

Not to my knowledge, no.

- Where'd they have the accident?
- Just outside Rome.

- And the car belonged to Saunders?
- Yes, but she was at the wheel.

The one I consider the murderer.
I put that in the report...

that I wrote out for the Consulate.
And, if your police...

for some reason or other, acted on it,
it's no fault of mine.

They never did, huh?

- This report, is there any way I could see it?
- Certainly. Anyone can see it.

Just ask.
They'll show it to you.

Signore Gerosa?

Roma F47704.
And I've only seen it once.

- Of course, photographic memory.
- I recall everything about our friend.

To start with,
he was an evangelical baptist.

- And his name is Fred Saunders.
- Frank Saunders.

- Now, wait a second. If I say Fred...
- Then you just made a rare mistake.

It's Frank Saunders.
That is, it was.

- Because he was murdered two years ago.
- What was that?

Two years ago last fall.
Just about the time the two of you met.

Mind if I ask how old your wife is?

My wife, when she died,
was only twenty-seven.

- Mind telling me your reason for asking?
- Oh, no reason. Just asking.

Why don't you tell Vismara
the whole story and leave it all to him?

Tell what? That your American's been
dead and buried for two years now?

He wasn't my American! I wasn't the woman
who left him to die on the highway.

I know, I know.

But, what if Vismara doesn't believe you?
Look, if the police got Rau to confess...

you think they have any trouble
convincing a girl?

Another point:
Since Frank is dead and buried...

- he couldn't be the killer anyhow.
- What about the man who phoned you?

- Have you any idea who he could be?
- Yeah. Someone who took it upon himself...

- to tell me that Saunders was dead.
- He could be an accomplice.

- Sure, he could.
- Or he might be the murderer.

Of course. He was afraid
that in looking for Saunders...

you would discover
something about him.

Don't you see? There's a link
between the murderer and Saunders.

What you're saying is he had me
find Saunders because he was dead.

And being dead, therefore,
must have nothing to do with this story.

In other words, he's actually trying
to make me think I'm following a false trail.

How could he know
that you were looking for Saunders?

I left a message
on the wall in Barrett's house.

And I sure wouldn't give Barrett
any prizes for honesty.

- I want to speak to your friend, Barrett.
— Sorry. He isn't in.

Hey, wait a minute!
I said he wasn't here!

Hey, look. You just can't come busting
into people's houses like this.

Morphine?

Answer, kid.
Is it morphine he's on?

Heroin, kid.

- Can you hear me, Barrett?
- Leave him alone!

- Can't you see the lousy trip he's on?
- Stay out of this, kid.

Or you'll only make
things worse.

He's dead, Barrett.
Frank's dead.

- What the hell do I care, for Pete's sake?
- Frank Saunders was murdered, Barrett.

I don't give a shit.
Now, get the hell out of here.

Yesterday, it was you who called me up
at Frank's old house, wasn't it?

You couldn't stand the idea
that Frank had fallen in love with a girl!

So you set up
a clever little accident.

Why did you get rid of that message
I'd written on the poster?

- Alright. You've had your fun. Now...
- I said, stay out of this!

All right, Barrett.
What have you got to say?

You never went back to the States,
Barrett, did you?

Look, let me alone.
Go away.

You'd better call a doctor.
And fast.

Wait. Give me Chuck.

I have pursued mine enemies
and overtaken them.

Neither did I turn again
until they were consumed.

I have wounded them
that they were not able to rise.

They are fallen under my feet.

Thou hast also given me
the next of mine enemies.

Long live, and blessed be my rock.
Let the God of my salvation be exalted.

For thou hast guarded me with strength
unto the battle. Thou hast...

I'm sorry. Excuse me.

- Good morning, Father.
- Good morning. Have a seat.

Thank you.
I'm sorry to barge in on you like this...

but it's about that American again.
Do you remember?

- Oh, yes, of course I do.
- Did you manage to find him?

His name is Frank Saunders.

And he's in the cemetery
in Via Caio Cestio.

I'm sorry.
How can I help you, if I may ask?

You see, the circumstances which surrounded
Frank's death are somewhat unusual.

Then, I would imagine that the police
would be more help than I.

Frank belonged to this church.

If you could tell me the name of the minister
who officiated at his funeral...

perhaps I could ask him if he remembers
any of Frank's friends that came.

Why, surely.
It's no problem at all.

- What year was it?
- 1969. He died September 30th.

Oh, '69...
Let's have a look.

Yeah, here we are.

F. A. Saunders.

- Ah, yes. It's Father Barnaby's signature.
- Could you give me his address?

Oh, yes.
It's 3990 Mount Street, Melbourne.

Father Baranaby was transferred there
four months ago.

I'd be glad to write him a letter.
On your behalf. He's a very nice man.

- I'm sure he'll answer right away.
- Thank you.

It's one's duty
to help one's fellow Christian.

I'll get off a note today, and as soon as
I have a reply I'll be sure to let...

I'd better take your address.

- Don't bother, it's too complicated.
— Why don't you write him directly?

- I could give you a letter of introduction.
- It's not important.

I just wanted to talk to him
if he was around.

Oh, Mister. Just a moment.

I'd be pleased if you'd accept
this offering from our church.

Any time you care to attend
one of our services...

well, you'll be more
than welcome.

You see, today, even those
representing God must rely on advertising.

Ancient Greece,
nine letters...

How about Acropolis?

No, no. It can't be Acropolis.
Second letter's gotta be a "c".

You spell Acropolis with a "c".

The drink's over here.

The ice is in the kitchen.
And don't throw the ash on the floor...

- until the maid comes tomorrow.
- Where are you planning on going?

I'm going to pick up
my child from the school.

I'm sorry, but could you ask
your husband to do it?

My husband?
I wouldn't know where to find him at this hour.

Unfortunately, we have orders
not to let you go out.

Isn't there anyone else you might ask?
A relative? Maybe a friend?

Palmieri, come here.

- Here's your mother. You ready?
- That's not her. That's my Aunt Maria.

- They're twins? How do you tell them apart?
- Easy. You can tell by their car.

My Mother's got a Fulvia Coupé,
and Aunt Maria has a Mini Cooper.

- Alessandro!
- Ciao, Maria.

I forgot to by newspapers for Mommy.
Go on upstairs.

Okay.

Thank you.

No... No!

THE SIXTH VICTIM
ANNA SARTORI, WIFE OF A NOTED...

It's too horrible for words.
I'm going out of my mind just thinking about it.

That you're the only one left?

You're wrong. You're not the last.
Anna Sartori's alive and well.

- She's alive?
- Yes. He killed her twin sister, Maria.

A mistake anyone could have made.
They're so alike.

- But they wrote that Anna had been killed.
- To protect her.

- How did you get to know all this?
- I talked to Vismara this morning.

Did you tell him
what you found out about Saunders?

I didn't see any reason.
The first problem is to bring the killer in.

You and Anna aren't safe
until the killer's been put away.

I'm tired of pretending
to be a live corpse.

Listen.

Maybe there's a way
to finish this thing once and for all.

It's risky.
But it's the only way.

- Oh boy. What a scoop.
- You ain't kiddin', this is gonna be a scoop.

Let's just hope
that information I got was right.

- Here he comes.
- Wait a minute.

Go on, boys, that's it.

Mario!

Mario!

Mario!

It was discovered today that Giulia Gerosa,
the supposed third victim of the killer...

known as "The Half Moon Maniac",
is alive and well.

Apparently, Mrs. Gerosa was only wounded
and has since completely recovered.

GIULIA TORRESI IS ALIVE!

Hello?

Hello.

Hello!

The injection
will make her sleep until morning.

By then, the tension will have gone
and the shock subsided.

Damn it. This never would have happened
if I hadn't broken the window.

That's what made her faint.

- Well, these things...
- Well?

Nothing. We've been over the whole area
thoroughly and didn't find a thing.

I'm afraid that, as usual,
we got there too late.

The same with Marchi
and de Rosa.

Well, apart from a scare,
nothing very serious happened to your wife.

That, I agree. But the trap failed
and the murderer got away again.

Even with the whole place surrounded
he had no trouble at all evading us.

It wasn't worth taking the risk.

I think you're wrong.
Have a look at this.

Our little plan didn't fail completely.
This time he made a fundamental error.

Listen.

Line's connected.

He blocked the line, hoping to prevent
your wife calling for help.

But he didn't know
we have a tap in this telephone.

- I can find out where he made his call from.
- You know the murderer's phone number?

Yes, we have the name the phone
is registered under, and the address.

It corresponds with what you told me.
Wanna come along?

It's on the first floor, Inspector.
But no one answers. And the door's locked.

- Alright. Break it down.
- What? Without a search warrant, Sir?

Yes. I'll get one tomorrow.
Hurry up!

That's where I wrote the message.
On the poster, there.

Inspector.

Police Headquarters.
Would you hold on a second?

You got any idea
how much longer he'll be?

You know how picky
the district attorney can get.

We might not finish until midnight.
You'll just have to have a little patience.

Oh, yeah, patience.
It's more than just a virtue in a police station.

Ah, here he is.

The case is closed.

Here's a photo stat
of Doctor Harris's report.

And this here
confirms the report.

It's the hotel my wife owned.

September 29th.
The place is right and the date is right.

What's this?
"I've found real love here. Goodbye, Frank."

- And it's addressed to New York.
- Good point.

Barrett goes back to Italy
this year in January and finds out...

Mr. Saunders
is dead and buried.

He reads the date and cause of death
in Dr. Harris's report: Willful negligence.

I see. So, that's why Harris said
the girl killed Saunders.

Already a girl that he had it in for,
because she'd stolen Frank.

And now, in his eyes,
she was a killer.

Naturally, Barrett must have been
out of his mind.

Naturally, that's one thing
you can always be sure of.

- All criminals are out of their minds.
- The girl was an unknown quantity for Barrett.

The only thing he knew,
was at the hotel that Frank met her.

He goes up there
and he talks to someone.

He learns about the proprietor's daughter
and the maid, Tambourini...

who was then employed there.

And there was the page in the register
for September 29th.

The proprietress,
the maid and the clients.

The girl he was after was one of those 6.
7, actually. But one of them was dead.

- So he decided to do in all of them.
- And then he committed suicide.

- Bravo, Palumbo.
- Inspector?

There is one thing
I still find totally incomprehensible.

- And that is, what were the half moons for?
- A maniac's fetish.

My impression is
that they were some sort of trade mark.

And there's something else that bugs me:
Barrett was a man who took drugs.

How could anyone
in this condition...

prepare and then commit
all those murders the way he did?

For the simple reason
he was under the influence of drugs.

Don't think about it anymore.
His suicide was his confession.

- Inspector Vismara?
- Ah, good morning. How are you?

This is Signore Palmieri,
Anna's husband. Signore Gerosa.

- Is it really over? Can we relax now?
- Yes, the whole thing's finished.

Thank God,
because the death of her sister...

was really the coup de grace
for my wife.

And after two years of trying to help her
recover from that nervous breakdown...

God only knows
what I'm going to do now.

- Good evening.
- Signore Palmieri isn't in.

- I'd like to speak to Signora, if I may.
- Signora isn't receiving.

Police.

Don't you policemen
ever go home to bed?

- Signora, there's a policeman here for you.
- Come on up.

Signora.

What is it this time?
Can't you ever leave me in peace?

I'm sorry, but I think this is rather important
and could very well be beneficial to us both.

- So, you're not from the police?
- The fact is, I'm married to Giulia Torresi...

the proprietor of the hotel
where you stayed two years ago.

- Do you remember?
- Yes, but I don't understand.

My wife was on that murderer's list.
Just the same as you were on it.

But, it's all over now.
That man committed suicide, didn't he?

Sure, it's over
if that guy really was the murderer.

- What do you mean?
- Oh, nothing.

You were in a car accident
two years ago, right?

- I don't have to answer.
- You remember Frank Saunders?

He died in a car crash.
The same car crash that you were in.

You must be mad.
I don't know any Frank Saunders.

- Please get out of here!
- How about this? Do you recognize it?

A perfect twin of the one
that belonged to Frank Saunders.

You used it on the morning of the accident.
You were at the wheel.

And afterwards you got scared and split,
while he lay there, bleeding to death. Right?

- You ran!
- Stop it, will you?

It wasn't my fault.
I didn't want him to die.

He loved me.
He wanted to take me to the States.

But how could I?

I'm a married woman
with a child.

And that's why you ran off
and abandoned him.

My husband didn't know anything.
I had to leave Frank.

I wanted to forget him.
Please don't tell anything to the police.

- I'll do anything you want. I'll give you money!
- Look. Calm down, please.

I have no intention of turning you in.
And money's got nothing to do with it either.

- I just want you to please help me.
- Help you? How can I?

By answering my questions.

Four days ago, did you take
seven orchids to Frank's grave?

No, I... I certainly didn't. Why?

Listen. The solution to the problem lies here,
in this one small medallion.

There has to be a reason why the killer
left one with each woman, right?

I don't understand.
What do you mean?

This trinket could represent some kind
of a bond between Frank and the killer.

- Can you recall if it was a gift from Barrett?
- Barrett?

No, I don't think so.
It was a gift from someone, I'm sure of that.

- But I don't remember who.
— Give it a try. Think. It might hit you.

- Are Frank's parents alive?
- No. He only had an older brother.

A brother?
Well, do you know where he is?

I think he's in America.
Yes, of course, now I remember.

It was his brother
who gave him the key-ring.

- Did you know him at all?
- No, but I've seen photos of them together.

- Can you recall what the brother looked like?
- Yes.

They were a lot different.

- You said the brother was older?
- A couple of years, yes.

Go on.
Please, it's very important.

His brother looked more serious.
He had a high forehead.

He and Frank were about the same size.
But, what really struck me was his face.

He had a kind face.
He was almost bald.

He had a thing... a cleft in his chin.
Oh, yes.

And he looked short-sighted,
like he might need glasses.

Mario, I know you're here.
Put on the record again.

Mario!

Mario?

Mario?

Come on...

I don't know which one was driving that car.
It may have been one of the others, but then...

of course,
it may have been you!

So you, like the others...

you must die.

- So that Frank may rest in peace!
- Barrett...!

No. I needed a way
to keep you all off my trail.

That's why Barrett had to die.

Giulia!

Giulia!

Mario!