Original subtitles

Hello?

Antoine? I'm through here.

Is that all you're taking? We're only going for a weekend.

Jesus. Origami and the art of packing.

If you were an article of clothing, you'd be a perfectly folded shirt.

You'd be a white sports bra that's been through a mixed wash.

No, sorry, you'd be a shower cap.

Harsh. Why are you packing your entire wardrobe?

Because you won't tell me where we're going,

and I need to be ready for every eventuality.

It's supposed to be a surprise, but we won't be going skydiving,

and there are no equestrian events planned. Does that help?

Surprises give me a tic.

Tough. When I was a child, a surprise meant

"Mummy and Daddy are off to Biarritz for three months

"and sadistic Gudrun with the moustache

"will be looking after you, won't that be fun?"

It's George Moutte here. I've just noticed a missed call.

I've got this do in half an hour.

I've rearranged things, put it that way.

Call me back.

Thanks for helping with this, Claude.

Oh, no problem, Monsieur Rodier. I'm happy to help.

It's just brilliant news about you getting the professorship.

Our lips are sealed, remember.

I haven't said a word to anyone, I promise.

Moutte better keep his promise.

So, who do we reckon's getting Moutte's job?

We'll know in about two hours.

I'm more bothered about who gets the scholarship. Me too.

So, may the best man win.

Quite a bit of gender bias going on there. Welcome to my world.

May the best person win. Sorry, best person.

Oh, Claude!

We're taking bets on who's going to get Moutte's job,

Annie Leonetti, Rodier, or Rocchia. Dunno.

Well, nobody thinks I'll get the scholarship, sadly.

It's never gone to a woman,

and I can't see Moutte breaking the mould, can you?

Not a chance. He's stuck in the wrong century.

14th.

Yes, no?

OK, you win.

This is where we are going.

Oh, is that the... The Hotel Colombe!

Yeah.

I've been there.

No! It's supposed to be a surprise.

You remember that former minister who tried to bribe me,

the one with the terrible wig?

Well, this is where he arranged to meet. Left me with the bill.

A bottle of white and two glasses of water,

I had to take out a second mortgage.

Just as well I'm paying, then.

OK, here we go. Christ.

My grandmother's funeral was livelier than this. Hit the bar?

Dr Leonetti, hi.

Hi, guys. What can I get you?

Can I go for some red, please?

Yeah, same. What time's the announcement?

A weekend of utter squalor, then

What time do we have to leave in the morning?

Ten-ish. It's only an hour away.

There's a bed in the next room

in case I need to escape your snoring.

Of course, it could be me escaping your snoring.

You're the one who snores. I've only your word for it.

To us.

Nervous? A bit, which is mad. I know I'm not gonna get it.

Hey, you could be our new professor by the end of the evening.

Let's wait and see, shall we? Hmm!

I would like an explanation, Georges.

I have perfectly valid reasons, Bernard,

but I'm not able to discuss them here.

This is... I don't believe this.

Well, get used to it.

You know what, piss off, Georges!

Monsieur Rodier!

Mmm!

My grandmother thought oysters were the work of the devil.

She was English, of course,

and could say that while adoring something called Marmite,

which she had specially shipped from London.

Marmite? What's that?

God knows!

It's kind of like salted tar.

Probably a by-product of Formica.

Clarence, what did Georges say to make Bernard storm out?

I've no idea.

Georges is never what you'd call forthcoming, is he?

Three of you up for the professorship,

Bernard has pissed off,

Giuseppe Rocchia hasn't pitched up - thank God,

he brings me out in hives -

which only leaves you.

Maybe they know something we don't.

Here we go.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we've gathered here in this beautiful apartment

on this perfect, balmy evening,

for the announcement you've all been waiting for.

And I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you.

I won't be announcing my successor this evening

because I've decided not to retire after all.

This is due, let's just say,

to circumstances beyond my control.

As for the Dumas Scholarship,

I will be making my recommendations at a later date.

Now, I know this must be

a tremendous disappointment to some of you,

but please, help yourselves to more food and wine.

And now, if you'll excuse me a moment.

What?!

It's insane! He told me I've got it.

Well, he obviously dangled that carrot in front of everyone.

Treacherous piece of shit.

What a bastard. Did he say anything to you?

He never mentioned anything.

Well, I'm not gonna a stay here and drink his crappy wine.

I'm gonna hit the gym.

Well, well, well, the old bugger.

Are you all right, cherie?

Yeah, yeah.

I'm just a bit stunned.

Will you excuse me a moment?

Georges Moutte, international man of mystery.

Jesus. When did this happen?

OK. What do you need me to do?

Let me take that down.

That was the longest pee anyone's ever had

in the history of peeing.

I used to just lift the lid and pee like a horse.

Now it's like effing Morse code.

Dot, dot, dash, dash. Be there all night.

How often do you think about death on an average day?

Once or twice.

It's every other thought with me.

Well, you're older than me.

For you, it's just around the corner.

God, you're cheery, aren't you

I sent Garrigues home, there wasn't much more to do.

Thanks for everything, Annie. I appreciate it.

I just have to go over to my office. Can you let yourself out?

Of course. But, Georges, what just happened tonight?

There's a restaurant I know near the hotel.

It's got six tables, the chef's a genius,

not a foam or a sous vide in sight.

Antoine Verlaque.

Judge, it's Deputy Commissioner Paulik.

Our new deputy commissioner, get you. How does it feel?

'Overdue.'

But I'll tell you when I see you. How's your weekend going so far?

You're about to spoil it, aren't you?

'Yep. Sorry, Judge.'

There's been a murder at the university.

How soon can you get here?

Bastards.

Why couldn't they wait till Monday to do their murdering?

Oh, well. Bye-bye, Hotel Colombe.

Which means, tragically, you'll miss out on the pillow menu.

I was hoping to order one filled with hops.

I'm bereft, I've always longed to sleep in a brewery.

Any more murder information?

No, she just said at the university, that's all.

I'm so, so sorry about this.

Go.

Go!

It's not your fault.

Time to mark the essays I was avoiding.

Let me know what happens.

OK, give me the scoop.

Hang on a minute.

Hey, Lemoine, piss off or I'll have you arrested!

That was very efficient. Who is he?

Registered sex offender. He was kneecapped.

Where were we?

Do we know who the victim is?

It's a Professor George Moutte.

Forensics are almost through.

Cleaner found him at eight o'clock this morning,

lying behind the desk.

And I thought my weekend had turned out badly.

Do they have the weapon?

Blunt object, that's all we have at the moment.

Anything missing? His secretary says nothing obvious.

Audrey Zacharie, she arrived just before the police did.

The laptop was opened on the desk.

Nothing was awry. She's downstairs.

Why am I still here? I've already spoken to the police.

I'm Judge Verlaque.

Deputy Commissioner Paulik, you've met.

We won't keep you any longer than necessary.

I'm supposed to be at a family barbecue.

I'm supposed to be at a boutique hotel in the Luberon.

I'm sure Professor Moutte had his own plans for the weekend.

Yet here we are, and one of us is in a mortuary.

How long's this gonna take?

That's up to you.

You arrived here this morning just before the police did.

Do you normally come in on a Saturday?

No. Professor Moutte had a drinks do last night,

and I got changed here before I went.

I came in to get my clothes.

Any other reason?

No. Why?

Was anyone else here? The cleaner who found him.

She was hysterical, so I went with her to his office.

I don't think it was a burglary. Why?

Because those two Galet vases in his office

are worth about 10,000 euros each.

I read history of art, I know about these things.

Antique glass was Professor Moutte's big thing.

I see.

He was supposed to announce his successor last night,

but seemed to change his mind about retiring.

Can you shed any light on that?

I was as surprised as anyone else.

Did you like him?

He was OK, yeah.

He trusted me.

With what? No, I just mean he respected me.

He knew I was worth more than I was being paid.

Counts for a lot in this place.

They're all a bit up themselves in here,

as you'll discover.

What did you do after you left the party?

I went to meet my boyfriend in Bar du Commerce, he works there.

We left around two and went home. OK.

In the next hour, I need you to draw up a list

of everyone who was at the party last night.

And could you mark those who were in line

for Professor Moutte's job or the Dumas Scholarship.

I told you, I'm supposed to be at...

That wasn't a question, by the way.

Thank you. You can go now.

Got any paracetamol? No.

How come you don't have a hangover?

From Garrigues.

According to Audrey's list,

Annie Leonetti, Bernard Rodier, both lecturers in the department,

and an Italian guy called Giuseppe Rocchia,

who apparently does popular TV shows about the medieval church in Italy.

Who knew that was even a thing?

But only one of them was there when Moutte made his announcement.

Annie Leonetti.

Rodier had an argument with Moutte earlier and walked off.

Do we know what it was about? Not yet.

And Rocchia never showed up.

What about the Dumas Graduate Scholarship, was that a big thing?

Oh, sure. A large grant to fund research,

accommodation, pretty much guaranteed a job at the end of it.

Yeah, but not something you'd kill for, right?

People are full of surprises.

Excuse me.

'I'm still at your place, I'm afraid.'

Tell me about the murder.

It happened in the medieval history department.

Christ. Who was it?

A Professor Georges Moutte. Oh, my God.

You know him? Well, I've met him.

My mother worked with him for 30 years.

I think she was at a drinks do at his apartment last night

to announce his successor. How weird is that?

Well, you know Aix, everyone's connected to everyone else.

She's never been able to stand him, incidentally.

Great! We can wrap this up pretty sharpish, then.

Who knew your mother had it in her?

I'll tie up my dossier and let the prosecutor know.

You do know, whoever got the job also got the apartment.

Was that a big deal?

Have you seen it? Jesus, Antoine, it's worth squillions.

Who did get the job?

No-one. He postponed his retirement at the last minute.

And then someone killed him? Wow.

It's very... Agatha Christie.

I have to go. Talk later, OK?

Shall we?

If you're phoning to tell me, I already heard.

Si, si. Molto, molto tragico.

When you say missing...

That is not the point.

I have to go. Call me the moment you...

Grazie.

Cherie. Am I late?

No, I was early.

I was photographing a really irritating playwright

for a theatre programme, who kept insisting I take his good side.

I hadn't the heart to tell him both sides were equally awful.

Sante.

Oh, and then he blew his nose, looked into the tissue,

as if it might hold the key to life, and asked me for a date!

Ooh. Oh, Jesus.

Thank God for air-conditioning.

But I have to know, have you decided about the job?

I woke up this morning and decided yes.

Ah. Is Antoine thrilled?

I haven't told him yet. So, how's it gonna pan out?

One day a week teaching at university,

and then criminal psychologist as and when the police need you?

A bit more formal. That's what the haggling was about.

Now it's a two-year contract,

plus I get to work from home and save them a fortune.

So, where's Antoine?

You said he was called away because of a murder.

Mm. Who was it?

A colleague of my mother's at the university.

Oh, your poor mother. Who?

It's OK. She couldn't stand him. Someone called Georges Moutte.

What?

Did you know him? Erm... No.

No.

Not really. I mean, erm...

I took his, er, photo once for a magazine article.

We had a... a drink afterwards, and he was...

He was really sweet.

Oh, Commissioner Rousseau on his midlife crisis.

Shh! He's still my boss.

Judge Verlaque and my new deputy. How's it all going?

Well, we're the dream team.

I wish I could be more hands-on myself,

but I thought I'd let her have her head on this one.

Generous and noble-spirited as ever.

Are you being sarcastic, Judge?

I'm hurt you should think that, Francois.

Yeah, well, have a good weekend.

Keep me up to speed, Helene. Ride safely.

Has he any idea what a twat he looks like on that bike?

None whatsoever.

Hi, it's me.

Guess who I'm interviewing later.

'Who?'

Your mother. Hoo-hoo! Lucky you.

I bet you 50 euros she brings up A, why we haven't got married yet,

and B, the fact that she was on the barricades in 1968.

Yes to the barricades, no to the wedding.

It's a murder investigation. She's not that mad.

50 euros.

OK, but I'll win.

Sorry, I'm interrupting your lunch with Sylvie.

'It's OK. Apparently,

'she took Georges Moutte's photo once for a magazine.'

I think she took a bit of a shine to him.

She looked pretty shocked.

OK, call me later when you're done.

'OK, bye.'

Are you OK? Yeah, fine.

Just a bit, you know...

Poor Georges Moutte. Yeah.

Taking someone's photo... it's quite an intimate thing.

You know?

He wasn't naked, was he?

No, of course he wasn't, it was for an arts magazine, but you know?

You make a connection.

But you didn't really know him that well.

No. Right?

No. It was just, erm...

Oh, sod it, I was having an affair with him.

Why didn't you tell me?! I don't know!

I mean, he's 76.

And it was, it was kind of clandestine.

Don't tell Antoine. Please?

Sylvie, for God's sake, he's been murdered!

I know, I know. I know!

But just don't tell him, OK? Please.

It was private.

I never told anyone about it, and I don't think he did either.

I didn't really know anything about the rest of his life.

It was just...

Oh, God, why would anyone kill him?

Sorry.

She's meeting us in the brasserie because, as she put it,

she's "patently" not our murderer.

Plus, she knew Moutte for years

and will be able to fill us in on a bit of background.

I haven't seen Marine's mother in ages.

She hasn't mellowed, put it that way.

I'm not sure how ethical this is, Antoine.

I mean, we're practically related.

Purely a formality, Florence.

So, if it's an alibi you're after, I was tucked up in bed by midnight.

And there is nobody who can confirm that.

That's fine.

Tell us about Georges Moutte.

He was the most... opaque person I ever met.

Some people might say shady.

What did he have to be shady about?

I'm not sure.

Of course, it could have been an act.

Some people like to, erm, cultivate an air of mystery, don't they?

What about his personal life? Girlfriends, boyfriends?

The former, I think. Again, all very discreet.

He and I were the same age.

I retired eight years ago, he should have done the same.

Any idea why he didn't?

I think he liked having that apartment to swank about him.

Show off his hideous glass collection.

He was an awful snob.

He liked Grand Cru wines and antique furniture.

And he thought that reality television

was the end of civilisation. Of course, he may have had a point.

My late husband and I were communists.

We were on the barricades in '68.

Whilst Moutte was no doubt

bidding for an 18th century escritoire at Sotheby's.

It's all about, erm, stuff with him.

Not people. Things.

Thank you, Madame Bonnet, you've been very helpful.

He was a pain in the arse,

but it hardly merits murder, does it?

Erm, you should marry Marine while you still have your hair.

You'll look better in the photos.

Kerching.

Sorry? Oh. Nothing.

Ah. Thanks for talking to us, Florence.

First up, Bernard Rodier.

So, you were home by 11:30.

What was the argument about with Professor Moutte?

At the party?

There was more than one?

N-No, no. No.

Er, well, I was upset.

Clearly. Several people noticed.

He more or less said the job was mine.

I told people.

Claude Ossarte, I'm his supervisor,

he helped me move stuff from my office.

We spent a whole afternoon packing boxes.

So, you must have felt...

Pretty stupid, yes.

Thierry, were you surprised when Professor Moutte

made his announcement?

He kind of hinted I'd won a scholarship, so, yeah.

And that was important to you?

The money would have been... Would have changed everything.

It was weird, cos I saw him the day before

and he said he was really looking forward to retiring.

And never having to read another dissertation as long as he lived.

So, you left the party. Then what?

We, Yann and I, went to a couple of bars.

Did you go straight home after that?

Yeah. Er, no, we didn't.

I mean, we were pretty drunk.

We just hung about a bit.

Doing what?

Just hanging. Talking.

What time did you get home?

I guess about...

2:30.

Thierry and I, we went to a couple of bars afterwards.

Drank too much.

It's all a speeded-up blur after that.

I think we tried to chat up some American girls.

Could they verify that?

Didn't get their names. What time was this?

Oh, I can't remember. Sort of... after midnight.

Then we went home.

So you left the bar around what... 12:30?

Something like that.

And went straight home? Yeah, yeah, we'd crashed out by one.

Do you often go to the gym at that time of night?

It wasn't even nine o'clock.

I was so fed up, and I needed to work off some steam.

And then I went and undid all the health stuff

by going to the Bar du Commerce and drink an entire pichet of red.

Talk to anyone there? The barman, probably.

I-I was just... really upset.

I just, I-I didn't get why Moutte went ahead with the party,

just to let everyone down like that, you know?

Did you like Professor Moutte?

He was a bit of an old buffer, but he was OK.

He wasn't as bright as he thought he was, though.

Most people aren't.

Or maybe you are.

How important was the professorship to you?

It was a step up, of course it was important.

My wife and I, er, split up.

Six months ago.

Erm, I'm living in a bedsit.

Next to a ring road.

I thought, you know, a fresh start, tenure...

We might get back together.

And of course, you'd have that rather fine apartment.

Well, yeah, but that wasn't uppermost in my mind.

No? I think it would have been in mine.

Lying there in my bedsit, listening to the traffic.

Yeah, yeah, OK. It was certainly...

Yeah, it would have been great. Yeah.

So, all in all, a bit of a bad night.

You could say that. Yeah.

You left Doctor Leonetti clearing up at Moutte's apartment.

And got home about what time?

Around 12:45.

Did you notice anything when you left?

Anyone hanging around? Not really.

I mean, there were people around, but...

Nothing that stuck out?

No.

About midnight, Georges left to go over to his office.

Do you know why? I guess he wanted to get online.

The apartment's in a Wi-Fi black hole.

What did you do?

I finished putting the glasses away and left.

You said you called Guiseppe Rocchia yesterday.

Do you know why he wasn't at the party?

Oh, he's way too grand for cheap plonk

and canapes from the freezer shop.

He's a bit of a celebrity in Italy. Do you know him well?

We're not what you'd call mates, but he can be quite entertaining.

Bernard Rodier might know why he didn't come.

They were just at a conference in Italy together.

Giuseppe's a semi-expert on all sorts of stuff.

Like what?

I think that's why he and Moutte got on.

They were both interested in antique glass.

I mean, how niche is that?

OK.

I'm going to stick my neck out

and say I don't think Marine's mother did it.

However, Yann and Thierry's stories don't match. Exactly.

One says they were asleep by one,

the other, that they didn't get home until 2:30.

Well, they were drunk, of course. They say they were, but even so,

one and a half hours is a pretty major discrepancy.

Rodier certainly had a motive.

A sandal-wearing murderer?

I suppose there's a first time for everything.

Claude Ossarte. Check out his story about the gym.

Check out the bar too. But my main feeling is this...

Either Moutte was lying to Thierry Marchive

about wanting to retire,

or at some point in the next 24 hours he changed his mind.

He said it was due to circumstances beyond his control.

Let's find out what they were.

Somewhere in those 24 hours we'll find the key to all of this.

Christ.

How's it going? Oh, all solved, in the bag.

You're joking! Yes, I am.

What have you got for me?

Good work, Sayid. Thank you.

Yann Falquero, he has a record.

Really? Breaking and entering, in Paris.

We're getting him in tomorrow.

Well, there's your man, right there. And, apparently,

his fingerprints are all over Moutte's office.

What's that weird noise?

A battery-operated fan.

I'm having a hot flush.

You look ridiculous.

How's the prostate?

OK, one-all. Hm.

I suppose it's downhill all the way now.

Incidentally, you owe me 50 euros.

I don't believe you.

I'm afraid she got them both in, marriage and manning the barricades.

Oh, God!

It's all I could do to stop myself from dancing round the room.

So, how was your day?

Student essays, they're enough to finish off a saint.

I spend weeks explaining the difference

between an inquisitorial system of justice

and an adversarial one.

I explain minutely

the role of a judge in the French legal system.

I tell them you're a bit like a detective.

And hugely more important.

Obviously.

I tell them a judge decides which lines to pursue.

Sifts through the evidence.

Throws out the dross.

Compiles the rest into a dossier for the court.

And half of them still think your job is banging a gavel

and sentencing people to 300 years without parole.

I blame American TV.

Any thoughts on who killed Georges Moutte?

Oh, one of the students has a record, apparently,

but sadly, not for anything violent. Hm.

God, it's exhausting, interviewing people.

Shall I do that American thing, and say, "Good night, love you"?

No, don't, I'll be sick. Oh.

Oh, I meant to tell you, I'm taking the job.

Oh, that's brilliant news! Mm.

We'll be working together. Yeah.

I'll talk about it tomorrow.

We were drunk.

We just wanted to know who'd won the Dumas.

The door to his office was open, so we went in.

And I looked in the desk.

Yet failed to notice he was lying dead on the floor?

There was only a desk lamp on.

You couldn't really see the rest of the room properly.

We turned round and he was just lying there.

You could tell he was dead. How?

You could see the corner of his face.

We thought he'd had a stroke or something, so we ran.

We were so drunk and we shouldn't have been there.

You just left him there!

It was like a bad dream.

We just ran. We were really, really drunk.

Look, the reason my fingerprints are on file is,

I broke into a chichi Paris apartment

and stole a bottle of 50-year-old whiskey.

It was my father's apartment, he and my mother had split up.

I was angry. And 16.

He grassed me up.

What sort of father does that?

Maybe he meant well.

Maybe he was just...

trying to teach you right from wrong.

I was a screwed up teenager!

I did a lot of stupid things.

It doesn't make me a murderer.

It doesn't make you not a murderer though.

Does it?

I've spoken to Yann Falquero

And he admitted that he and Thierry were there.

So what do you want to do?

First of all, talk to Thierry Marchive again.

But why would either of them kill their professor?

A scholarship, seriously?

How would killing him help?

And it's not as if Falquero needs the money.

Here we are.

This was the prize they all wanted.

My family had an apartment like this in Paris.

It was the unhappiest place I've ever lived in.

What was your family business again?

Flour. We were the second largest.

In the whole of France? No, the world.

OK.

My family is comedically ghastly.

I have as little to do with them as possible.

These windows need replacing.

That's 100,000 at least.

Is the department short of money? Not at all.

They had a massive endowment years ago.

They have money coming out of their ears, apparently.

Maybe someone would kill to get their hands on this.

Only if you absolutely knew you'd get Moutte's job.

And you knew you wouldn't get caught.

Or you were so angry you weren't thinking.

Madam Zacharie. Can we help you?

Look what you made me do!

Was the vase valuable?

Yes. Yeah. And he only got it the other week.

It was a present from a friend from Italy.

What are you doing here?

I was... looking for some student grant forms,

Professor Moutte was supposed to have signed them.

Let's have a look at that hand. I'm fine. Come with me.

Hm!

Am I in trouble?

I don't know. You tell me.

Expensive taste. These cost a fortune.

And she's on what, minimum wage? Where is she?

Having a pee.

How'd she get the keys to this place?

She was his secretary. Maybe he gave her a set.

A gift from an Italian friend. Guiseppe Rocchia?

Could be.

Let's get it examined, shall we? Find out what it actually is.

I'm guessing Galle.

If it is, and it is from Rocchia, it's a pretty expensive gift.

Well... I'm no expert, obviously,

but these don't look like student grant forms to me.

What are they?

Departmental bank statements.

I think we need a word with Audrey.

Antoine!

She's legged it.

What the f...?

She hasn't got any shoes on!

She was obviously scared of something.

Not me, surely, I'm adorable.

So, what do we think she was up to?

'Nothing good, I'm pretty certain of that.'

And I have a hunch. You had a hunch

Hillary Clinton was gonna be the first female president of the US,

and look how that ended. Ha-ha.

Moutte's murder was nothing to do with the job, or the scholarship.

No? 'You don't kill someone'

because you didn't get a scholarship or a job.

'Where's the logic in that?' I hate to break it to you,

but logic isn't a strong point for most killers.

All I know is, Audrey Zacharie's disappeared. Why?

Moutte said he wasn't retiring,

due to circumstances beyond his control.

What were those circumstances, and what did Audrey know about them?

He's here.

Just this way. Ma'am.

I should have told you.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

We were in Professor Moutte's office on Friday night.

Yes, I know.

But we didn't kill him! I swear to God, we didn't kill him.

We just wanted to know if I'd got the scholarship, that's it.

News on Audrey? No.

She's not in the department. She's not at home.

They're checking her parents' house.

God Almighty, our number one suspect, vanished.

What about Yann and Thierry? Do we believe them?

Mm... It's all a bit convenient. "We just happened to be there.

"And we just happened to find him dead.

"Oh, and then we ran away." So give me a motive.

They didn't get the scholarship.

Got drunk. Hit him over the head.

No, you're right.

It's not what I would call compelling.

Which is why we need to find Audrey. Why did she take off like that?

What does she want with those bank statements?

And most importantly, where the hell is she?

On the upside, we tracked down Guiseppe Rocchia.

And I have news about the murder weapon.

What? It was made out of wood.

Oh, well, that narrows it down vastly

What could it be? A tree trunk? A chair leg?

Or something more comedic, like a rolling pin?

No, wait for it.

There were traces of varnish and paint on it.

And it's around 700 years old.

Of course it was!

It's never a hammer someone picked up in a DIY store...

And, oh, look, here's the receipt.

..is it?

Maman! Please don't call me that.

Am I disturbing you? I'm marking essays.

Just give them all B-.

By the time they're 60, none of it will matter anyway.

Erm, any more of that coffee?

When I think of the house you had when you were married to Thibault.

Oh, yes.

Lovely Thibault.

Remember that time he slammed me against a wall

and broke my wrist?

Well, that was appalling.

But when people get overawed... Florence, I'm warning you!

You can't have pitched up here

to discuss a marriage that ended 15 years ago.

If you loved Thibault that much, you should have married him yourself

and then had a very rude awakening. Now what do you want?

I just remembered something about Friday night

and, er, wondered if should tell Antoine.

Carry on.

Did you ever meet Moutte's secretary, Audrey Zacharie?

Long hair, moody.

I think there was something going on there.

She was either having an affair with Moutte,

or she wanted him to think she might.

Thanks for meeting me here.

I'm not ready to face the department yet. After...

Well, it's so shocking. I can hardly believe it's happened.

And also, it's a novelty for me to have a quiet drink in public

without being asked for my autograph.

In Italy, of course...

Why weren't you at the party on Friday night, Doctor Rocchia?

Because Georges called me Friday morning

to say he'd changed his mind about retiring.

He assumed I was in Italy.

He didn't want me to make the trek.

Did he say why he changed his mind?

Not ready to go. Couldn't face the upheaval.

Personally, I think he liked that apartment too much. Who wouldn't?

Tell me about your interest in antique glass.

That was something Georges and I shared.

An interest in Galle glass?

God, no! I hate the stuff.

You never gave Professor Moutte anything like that as a gift?

No. Why would I do that?

Roman glass, that's what I'm interested in.

It has history and rarity, and it's so much more beautiful.

Where were you on Friday night? At my apartment in Nimes.

Can anyone confirm that?

My wife, Claire, was with me.

Is she there now? We have an apartment in Cassis.

She's there for the weekend.

But, please, feel free to call her. I'll give you her number. May I?

Grazie. Prego.

There, little gift for you. My autograph.

You're a lucky man, Judge.

People pay a lot of money for that.

Guiseppe!

Goodness!

Would "snug" be the word?

I've just been interviewed by the judge.

At last, I was beginning to feel left out.

So, any news?

No, I'm afraid not, no.

Bernard, we'll both be in the shit if you don't sort this out.

I trusted you with it, and now my professional reputation is at stake.

Do you understand?

This place is tragic.

What do you reckon happened, Claude?

To Moutte?

I don't know... burglary gone wrong? I mean, did they take anything?

Don't know.

Who was the last person to see him? Annie Leonetti, probably.

I think she was the last one at his apartment.

I left a bit before she did.

Right, and she was pretty pissed off with him, wasn't she?

Well, so was Dr Rodier. So was everyone.

You're not seriously suggesting Annie did it?

Yeah, OK...

I've always thought Professor Moutte had a secret life

none of us know about.

Wonder if it was to do with that.

- Hello. - Hi!

I've brought some things so you wouldn't have to cook.

I could've made us an omelette.

Course you could!

In an alternative universe.

I've got jamon iberico...

Mmm! ..olives, cheese, bread, fruit.

What's that in your hair?

A fork.

Wanna make something of it? Hm? Hm!

So, my mother...

..thinks there was something going on between Moutte and his secretary.

Apparently, she saw her brush a bit of fluff

off his shoulder at the party,

which is apparently how the world knew that Princess Margaret

was having an affair with the group captain in 1950-something.

Honestly, for a die-hard communist,

my mother knows an awful lot about the British royal family.

Of course, Florence sees conspiracies everywhere,

as you know.

Have you told her about the job? I can't face it.

She'll only bang on about me joining the police, which I'm not.

But anyway...

Is Audrey Zacharie your main suspect? Yeah.

Her boss has been murdered, and she's vanished.

It's not a great look.

The pathologist report said that Moutte was hit by someone

standing in front of him,

so if he was standing here and the desk was here, the murderer...

Oh, that'll be me!

..is here on the same side of the desk.

The blow struck him on the left temple.

Unfortunately, that's one of the weakest spots on the skull -

the point where four bones meet.

One blow, that's all it took. Doof!

He went down but clutched the desk, like this, as he went.

Oscar-winning?

I'm thinking runner-up, small film festival.

Arse end of Pas-de-Calais.

Mm... So, I'm looking at you in the face when I kill you?

I guess so.

That's quite intimate.

Someone was furious, or frightened, or both.

It probably wasn't planned.

And could it have been a woman? Audrey Zacharie.

If she was having an affair with him.

What?

She wasn't having an affair with him.

Sylvie was.

Christ, there's two of you at it now.

Menopause world.

We bought the franchise.

So...

I know I should've told you all this earlier, Antoine,

I'm aware of that, OK, so don't start.

If you want an alibi, my brother had dinner on Friday, stayed the night.

I believe you, but you'll have to come and make an official statement.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I wasn't in love with him.

He wasn't in love with me. It was just...

We enjoyed being with each other.

I'm sorry, Sylvie, I don't know how to put this, but I have to ask...

Is it remotely possible that Georges Moutte

was having an affair with someone else as well as you?

You mean, did he have the stamina?

Y... Yeah, OK.

Yeah, I doubt it. I mean, he didn't need Viagra, but...

I get the picture.

He did mention Audrey Zacharie to me.

I told her my mother's theory.

He said he was trying to boost her confidence.

She was a working-class girl who had a posh degree

and dreamt of running the Louvre, but she didn't have the vocabulary.

She didn't have the connections or personality

to rise above those things.

Do you think he may have given her money?

Possibly. He was a good man.

I think he was trying to save her.

And I think she was taking him for a ride, to be honest.

What am I looking at?

This is a piece of the broken vase from Moutte's study.

Forensics sent it over. OK.

So... this is part of the rim.

You see how sharp the edge is?

Is that good? Apparently not.

It means it was machine-cut.

If it was authentic, it would've been hand-finished.

It's a fake.

Wow. That complicates things. It sure does.

Question is, did Moutte know it was a fake?

He must've done, surely. He was an expert on all this stuff.

So, was he trading in fake artefacts?

Is that what got him killed? We need to see his bank account.

Sayid.

They've found Audrey.

They're bringing her over to the station now.

I ran because I thought they'd make me pay for the broken vase.

Do you have any idea what it's worth?

That wasn't my original question.

Why did you want a box file of old departmental bank statements?

I didn't. I just took down the wrong box.

I was looking for student grant forms.

Really?

Yes, really.

Well, she's hiding something, but we need some hard evidence.

Of what, exactly? Something, anything.

Oh, my Lord.

They just got into Moutte's bank accounts.

Listen to this. He has three.

New York, Geneva and one in Aix with 350,000 euros in it.

What the hell's going on there?

How does a university professor come by 350,000 euros honestly?

Every time Georges had to go to a conference,

or a gallery, or a museum somewhere, he took me with him.

We stayed in nice hotels.

I mooched around, taking photographs,

and he did whatever he had to do.

Which was what? I don't know, really.

He had meetings with museum officials, gallery directors...

Stuff like that. What were the meetings about?

I'm not sure. He knew about loads of stuff.

Medieval manuscripts, paintings, sculpture... You name it.

And he had an unexpected personal passion for Art Nouveau glass.

He had a huge brain.

Can you remember the names of any of the galleries he went to?

There was one in Nimes, owned by an American.

He went there a lot. Erm, Christopher something.

Elliot? Christopher Elliot?

Did he seem to have a lot of money, Sylvie?

He wasn't poor.

He always upgraded our hotels, but, you know, he was just... you know...

He didn't flash the cash, if that's what you mean.

Why?

'Hello?'

Madame Rocchia? 'Yes.'

Deputy Commissioner Paulik, Aix-en-Provence Police.

Oh, yes, I thought you might call.

It's such an awful thing, isn't it?

Poor darling Georges.

If you could just confirm your whereabouts

on Friday evening, madame.

'Of course.'

Guiseppe and I were both at the apartment in Nimes on Friday night,

and I left on Saturday afternoon.

'It's very sad. We're so shocked.'

Will you call me if there's anything else I can help you with?

I will. Thank you for your help.

Anytime. Goodbye.

OK, Guiseppe Rocchia has an alibi for the night of Moutte's murder.

But let's leave that aside for the moment.

Let's say he gives Moutte that Galle vase.

Why? Is he just insanely generous?

Or he knows it's a fake and he isn't being generous at all.

And Moutte discovers this?

Or they were in cahoots.

I mean, where does Moutte's money come from?

Rocchia has an apartment in Nimes.

This man, Christopher Elliot, has a gallery there.

Is there a link?

Florence.

Florence?

Yes. She's been talking to a man called Imbert,

the son of a woman she goes to keep-fit with.

She wants to know if she can come over.

Now.

Jean-Marc Imbert was brought in by the departmental board

as an auditor.

You know that 60 years ago

the department received a huge cash endowment,

as well as the apartment in Aix?

I'd heard about it, yes.

This money was kept in an account called the Scholarship Fund

because some of it had to be used expressly for that purpose.

So, who was overseeing the accounts before Jean-Marc pitched up?

Nobody. They just let it tick over as it always had.

Because, frankly,

all they do at those board meetings is swap recipes for tapenade.

Give us the bad news, Florence.

Money has been draining out of that account for the last 18 months.

Sante. Where to?

Sante.

Well, some of it was transferred

into the department's current account,

some of it was taken out in cash and the rest just vanished.

There were payments for things like "building projects"

which I'm quite sure never existed, because otherwise,

the department wouldn't be as decrepit as it is.

Presumably, Moutte had access to these accounts?

Obviously, but then, a couple of years ago,

he gave joint authority...

To Audrey Zacharie. How did you know?

We found Audrey Zacharie in Moutte's apartment,

looking for bank statements.

Claimed she was looking for student grant forms.

They're getting Audrey in again tomorrow.

Do you think Moutte knew she was creaming off money?

Maybe they both were.

Is it hot in here, or is it me?

It's you. Hm...

Mmm!

Oh, that's nice.

Where are you?

Oh! Did you see that?

Monsieur Rodier, it's Judge Verlaque.

Sorry to call so early.

Could you contact either myself or Deputy Commissioner Paulik?

You have our numbers.

There's a few things we'd like to ask you

about your recent trip to Italy with Dr Rocchia.

Thank you.

What? Audrey Zacharie was killed by a hit-and-run driver

at 6:30 this morning.

She was our main suspect. Where the hell does that leave us?

I've arranged to speak to her boyfriend.

Did Audrey often go for a run that early in the morning?

Sometimes.

She left you in bed?

Nah.

I got in really late from work.

Smoked a spliff when I got home and fell asleep on the sofa.

Next thing I know, the cops are at the door,

and she was...

Jesus.

This is unreal.

Is that her bag?

Yeah.

Cost a fortune.

A relative left her some money. When?

That's what she said, anyway.

But I kept thinking...

I don't know...

She was getting it from either one guy or a whole bunch of them.

Always out, like she was doing escort work or something.

So, the bag, the shoes...

Looks like she's been using the department

as a handy source of income.

We need to get into her bank account.

'Monsieur Rodier, it's Judge Verlaque.

'Sorry to call so early.

'Could you contact either myself or Deputy Commissioner Paulik...?'

Monsieur Rodier? Oh, Claude. Hi.

You OK? Yeah, why?

Well, have you heard about Audrey Zacharie?

Oh... Er, yes. I'm sorry. That's just terrible.

I always thought she was a bit weird.

I-I didn't really know her. Why? She seemed OK.

Do you know that guy?

No, I don't know who he is. Do you?

No, I've no idea. Er, well, I'd better get back to the library.

Don't let me scare you off, Claude. Well, I was just going. See you.

Why are you so anxious to speak to me, Bernard?

What's going on?

Verlaque.

It's Claire Rocchia. I spoke with your colleague the other day.

I'd like you to come down to Cassis.

I have something I need to show you, but more importantly,

my husband was in the Nimes apartment

on the night of Professor Moutte's murder.

However, I wasn't with him.

So, when we get there...

I'll sit in a cafe and read Improving Literature.

And I'll come and join you.

And I'll have ordered the bouillabaisse. Perfect.

Oh, hi, Helene. He's driving.

Tell him we just found Audrey Zacharie's phone

under a wheelie bin.

'The last call she made was to a burner phone

'moments before she died.'

Any more info on who was driving the van?

Nothing.

Keep digging at your end. I'll get back as soon I can.

Do you like them, Judge Verlaque? Oh, er, yeah... No, I... Sorry.

My husband and I are in the process of divorcing.

Did he tell you that? He didn't, no.

He's been seeing a young woman.

There have been several.

This one is the wife of the man

whose company produces his television show.

He was there with her that Friday night.

I agreed to say it was me because he knew

that you'd want to speak to her.

Her husband would find out about the affair,

and Guiseppe's career as a Z-list celebrity would be over.

Two things.

Why did you want to help him out...

..and how do you know he was in Nimes that night?

Because the apartment has a burglar alarm and CCTV,

which has an app.

There.

Does he know you have this app? No.

He thinks only he has it.

Are those vases Galle? Vile, aren't they?

He told me he hated the stuff. Oh, he'll say anything.

So, you ask me why I agreed to lie for my husband.

He promised me these paintings in the divorce settlement if I did.

Madame Rocchia, I have to tell you, these paintings may well be...

They're fake, probably.

Fake what? I don't know.

I'm more of an opera person.

Art was more of Guiseppe's domain.

Seems to be yours, too.

No, not at all. But my family were...

Well, let's just say I was brought up with art.

But these things are perfectly nice to hang on your wall.

Lovely, in fact.

But people churn this sort of stuff out by the metre.

However, if you like it, who cares what it's worth?

Well, I did rather like them, but they feel a bit tainted now.

But the thing you need to know about my husband is this:

He's pathologically inquisitive.

Art, houses, women... money.

Do think he knew the paintings were worthless?

Of course he did. Why else would he give them to me?

So, do we think the glass in Rocchia's apartment is fake, too?

That'd be interesting, wouldn't it?

The others in Moutte's possession are all genuine, apparently.

But if you really love a work of art, does it matter if it's fake?

Only if you want to sell it.

But does part of the pleasure come from knowing it's the real thing?

Or of other people thinking it is.

My parents had a Watteau. Turned out to be fake.

And what did they do with it?

Kept it on the wall. Never told anyone.

Typical.

Thank you.

Audrey Zacharie's boyfriend, Luc Martinez, he works here, right?

Yeah. How is he?

Not great.

Audrey said they were both here the night of Georges Moutte's murder.

Yeah. He, erm... He finished around midnight.

They stayed for a few drinks and left way after one.

How did they seem? OK.

But...?

They had a massive fight in the street after they left.

They'd had a bit to drink.

A physical fight? No, no.

Shouting, yelling. Luc wouldn't harm a fly.

I think he was accusing her of having an affair.

That's what it sounded like, anyway.

How well did you know Audrey?

Not very. She was a bit...

I don't know. Sometimes she came in with that guy in a wheelchair.

The one that got done for child porn.

I think he was her cousin or something, but still...

A couple of times, they were with a student.

I don't know his name.

Short-ish, glasses.

Thanks. That's really helpful.

Are you thinking about Cecile?

22 years, she's been out there.

Twice as long as we were married.

Seems like ages.

No time at all.

Every time I see a ferry, I imagine her jumping off it,

into the darkness.

How black the sea must have been.

How cold.

Sometimes, I imagine her bones on the sea bed being nibbled by fish.

Hermit crabs living in her skull.

I was relieved when she did it.

Does that make me a bad person?

Alcoholics are hard to live with.

And the pain of it was too much for her.

You can't save everyone.

- Yep? - 'Claude Ossarte.

'I think the barman saw him with Audrey and Lemoine more than once.'

The sex offender? 'Exactly.'

So, Lemoine was Audrey's cousin.

Yeah. I didn't see that coming.

Me neither. And he's the sort to have a burner phone, right?

Don't know how he would have killed Moutte, though.

Well, he can't have gone up the stairs in a wheelchair.

Tell us about Audrey's cousin, Christophe Lemoine.

He's a paedophile. That much we know.

Did she see much of him?

She was brought up with him. He was like her brother.

She said... he was wrongly convicted.

Was he? No. He wasn't.

Do you know someone called Claude Ossarte?

Do you? Kind of.

I know who he is, anyway.

Saw him a few times with Audrey.

She swore blind she wasn't having an affair with him.

Was she?

It's been bugging me, so I asked her to come in. Fine.

Also, they're keeping an eye on Ossarte's apartment.

He's not there right now. As soon as he shows, they'll pick him up. OK.

So, we have Claude Ossarte, who's been linked to Audrey,

and Giuseppe Rocchia, who's dodgy as hell and lying to us.

Well, they can't both have done it. Can't they? Why not?

Garrigues. Thank you for coming in.

Please, sit down.

You know Deputy Commissioner Paulik?

What... Er, what did you want to see me about?

Remember the last time we spoke, Garrigues?

It was the day after Professor Moutte's death.

There was a moment during that conversation

which has been bothering me.

I think you were omitting something.

I asked you if you noticed anything

when you left Professor Moutte's apartment, and you paused...

..before you replied in the negative.

I read that as a significant pause. Was I wrong?

I didn't... Well, I don't want to get anyone into trouble.

I mean... I mean, it might not mean anything,

it's just, when I came out of the building,

right by Professor Moutte's door, there was...

a heap of cigarette butts.

They were fresh. Like someone had been waiting there, smoking.

Roll-ups.

They were roll-ups. Right.

And Claude Ossarte smokes roll ups, doesn't he?

IT finally sent screenshots.

This is what Moutte was looking at on his laptop just before he died.

Italy, Italy, churches.

It's all churches in Italy. Italy.

Rocchia. Exactly.

OK, I'm flying a kite here,

but is there a link between him and Claude Ossarte?

Like what? Don't know, but something.

Right, you deal with Ossarte, I'm going to Nimes.

Rocchia had an apartment there. Moutte frequented a gallery there.

He had a fake vase, Rocchia had a bunch of fake paintings,

it can't be a coincidence.

Where are we on Audrey Zacharie's bank account?

They're on it now.

I'll catch you later.

Helene Paulik. 'Madam Paulik,

'I've someone with me who wants to speak to you.'

So, Giuseppe gave me this thing to bring back from Italy.

It's a copy of an early Renaissance carved statue.

Er, he needed it for a TV programme.

Why couldn't he bring it back himself?

Because he was flying to London first, and it was too heavy.

Anyway, it's gone.

It was in my office and it's vanished,

and, er, now he keeps calling me and saying he needs it.

And, erm... it's getting...

It's getting really quite threatening.

Why would that be?

Bernard's been in a bit of a state about this,

that's why I've come with him.

He thinks maybe it's not a copy after all.

That it's the genuine article. And I smuggled it into the country.

I mean, I didn't know. Honestly.

I-I didn't realise what I was doing.

You said Claude Ossarte was helping you pack up your study

when you thought you had Moutte's job.

Perhaps he knows where it is? No. No, no, he doesn't.

How do you know? Cos I asked him and he said he hadn't seen it.

Audrey Zacharie put nearly 300,000 euros

through four different bank accounts in the last two years.

Mostly transferred from departmental accounts.

'Hello? Judge Verlaque?' Madame Rocchia, is something wrong?

It looks as if he's packed up and left,

and he seems to have taken his vases with him.

'I wasn't thinking straight.

'I told him you said the paintings were worthless.'

It might have been better if you hadn't, Madame.

I'll get back to you.

Rocchia's done a bunk.

She told him we were on to him.

Let's go to the gallery anyway, we're almost there.

I don't know what happened. It's gone!

I know, I don't...

Good afternoon, Madame. Good afternoon.

You're clearly not Christopher Elliott.

That was my late father. I'm his daughter, Clemence.

Are you looking for anything in particular?

I was wondering if you could talk to us

about a Professor Georges Moutte?

I believe he was a client of yours. Georges Moutte?

I vaguely... recognise the name.

Giuseppe Rocchia, do you vaguely recognise his name?

Why are you looking for Giuseppe Rocchia, monsieur?

I'm sorry, you are? Lionel Monetti, Interpol.

And you? Judge Antoine Verlaque.

This is Professor Marine Bonnet.

We're investigating the murder of Professor Georges Moutte, in Aix.

What exactly is going on here?

Georges Moutte was working for us, monsieur. In what way?

Well, he was an internationally renowned expert in art fraud.

He informed us about Rocchia.

Rocchia recently had an early Renaissance masterpiece

brought into the country by a colleague,

lifted from a church in Umbria. What is this masterpiece?

It's a 14th century statue of St Francis,

still traces of the original paint. Is it wooden, by any chance?

It is. We told Georges about it late Friday night,

and next thing he was dead.

This colleague of Rocchia's, is it Bernard Rodier?

You know him?

Oh, my God, I know what happened.

Who helped Rodier pack up his office?

It wasn't Rocchia who killed Moutte.

'Helene, it's me.

'It's Claude Ossarte.' We're in his apartment now.

I think you should get back here.

'Antoine, we found him. Meet me at the University.'

Stay back, please.

He's on the roof.

Sir? Antoine!

You go on, I'll deal with this. OK.

Top of the stairs, landing, at the back of the building,

there's a man unconscious.

Claude. Piss off!

- You OK? - What do you think

How did Lemoine get up here?

I brought him up in the lift.

There's a lift?!

Yeah.

And then I pushed him down the stairs. Why?

Because he was blackmailing me, the bastard, and...

..Audrey Zacharie was his little helper.

Do you mind me asking... why he was blackmailing you?

No, I can't be bothered to tell you that.

I was just...

I was so... angry.

You know, I watched Moutte go into his office...

..after the party, it was way after midnight, and, erm...

..I'd been to the gym, and then I went to the bar.

Where you drank a pichet of red.

No, I just made that up. No, I wasn't drunk.

I don't really drink, I only do it to fit in.

So, anyway, I...

..I barged in on him in his office

with a box of Bernard Rodier's things.

They could be here, in this office.

I think you've had a little too much to drink, Claude.

Well, I'm stone-cold sober. You promised him this job.

Actually, I didn't, Claude.

I told him that he was a very strong candidate for the...

Where did you get that?

It's Bernard's.

Oh, I see. It's "Bernard" now, is it?

It's a prop for a TV show. Now, let me just have a look at it.

No, get off! Claude,

that isn't for a TV show. It was stolen.

Church in Umbria, it's over 600 years old.

I don't know how Bernard came by it, but he shouldn't have it.

So, a-are you accusing him of something?

Well, I'm sure we can work something out.

Bernard is a good man, he is ten times the man that you are

and you've just ruined his life!

Right, I see.

You're in love with Bernard. No! Oh...

Professor Moutte?

Was it so bad, being in love with Dr Rodier?

- He seems like a nice guy. - No...

I'm-I'm... I'm not, I'm not like that, I...

You know, just because I don't have girlfriends and...

doesn't mean that I'm...

Look, I actually don't... I don't wanna talk about it, OK? OK.

So... what happened after you...

When I came out, Christophe Lemoine...

was in the park next door trying to buy coke.

He had a full view of Moutte's window.

The light was on, he saw me go in and...

..he practically saw me do it.

I was giving him 3,000 euros in dribs and drabs to say nothing.

And Audrey was collecting the money.

He said that the police kept tabs on him, so she had to do it.

Because she'd already given him, like, a fortune

to buy some land to build a house on it.

Said that she inherited it from a relative or something. I...

Most of his money went up his nose.

What was her problem?

You know, she-she-she said that...

..she was trying to save him. It...

I didn't kill her, by the way.

I was waiting for her, she had...

just called me.

I saw it happen, it was...

It was just random.

You know, wh...

What could I do? I couldn't say anything, could I? So...

Anyway, who cares? None of it really matters anyway.

I've never really fitted in anywhere.

Now, I have blown it.

Why did you keep the statue?

If you'd chucked it, you could have got away with this.

Because I realised it wasn't just a TV prop. I realised...

..it was... it was real, and I couldn't just get rid of it.

You know, like, I know history is important,

unlike Moutte, who is just about money and owning shit.

Oh, I think you underestimate him. No.

I think Moutte was a better man than any of us knew.

You could be out in ten years, you know?

You'll still be in your thirties.

No, I don't think I'll bother, thanks.

Please, Claude, don't do this.

I can get you help.

Claude!

Give me your hand. There are people who love you, Claude.

They would never want this, believe me.

No, I can't even do it. I can't even kill myself.

Come on.

Come on.

OK.

Claude. Let me help you.

Claude.

Antoine?

Thank goodness.

Well done.

I don't know whether to congratulate you or bawl you out, Antoine,

you could have got yourself killed. Yet here I am.

Just leave it...

to someone a bit younger next time, OK?

I always feel slightly calmer...

..when I'm chopping vegetables.

Antoine.

Cecile died.

And Claude didn't.

And the two things have nothing to do with each other.

They are purely random.

You weren't put on this earth to save the suicidal.

You could never have saved Cecile.

Been nice if I could have done, though. Stop it.

Kiss me.

What, now? If you could.

Thank you. As you were.

Oh. It's from my mother.

Moutte's niece was going through his desk...

..and found a piece of paper.

Guess who he was going to nominate for the job and the scholarship?

Annie Leonetti and Garrigues Druon.

See? There is some justice in the world.

It's weird, isn't it, how...

life can be absolutely appalling...

..and actually not bad at all, all on the same day. Mm.

Love and death bang right up against each other.

Thank God for the love.

Got a bit of tomato on your shirt.

Oh, sod off!

Will this be your first job together? Yes, I suppose it will.

My husband went up to the chateau and now he's dead.

What the hell are you doing here? Well, if it was some regular guy,

they'd probably say suicide and move on.

Somebody seems to have killed him, wouldn't you agree?

Yeah, but why would it be me? Were you close to your brother?

Yeah, we got on fine. I was the problematical one.

The aristocracy are famously unstable.

Was it you who found him?

Lever Pogarovsky, I want to know more about him.

Girls are trafficked, I'm very sure of it.

We need to get out of here. Stop panicking. I'll deal with it.

The murders are linked, but not in the way that we think.

Getting a bit "detectory" there. Is that a word? No.