Original subtitles

What a view!

I put the money in! Let me have a go!

-Come on, it's my turn now! -Stop it! I'm trying to see!

Come on!

DANCE STEPS ON A RAZOR'S EDGE (DEATH CARRIES A CANE)

-You're exhausting! -Let me have a look!

I want to see my house. Let me see!

There's your home! Regina Coeli jail!

Hey, look! Isn't that your girlfriend?

-What? -Yes!

-My girlfriend? -That's definitely her!

I'm not wrong, you know!

Yeah, you're right. That's really her.

-Told you. -That slut!

She said she was going to her aunt's. She's insulting me, you know.

And then she changes her clothes...

Ah, leave it. I don't know anymore.

Come on, let's go.

I'll tell you what, at least we'll eat tonight.

Dad, next to Mum.

Like that. Hold it like that now.

Ready...

There! Now let's take another!

Raise your head and give me a nice smile.

I even managed to get a shot of a church.

You can see twelve from here.

Alberto and I counted them once.

Kitty, I'm afraid Alberto is ten minutes late.

We could miss our flight.

He's hardly ever on time.

-Don't worry yourself, Theodore. -Hold it!

Let's see if we can see the terrace through the telescope.

Maybe Alberto is still at home.

What a guy!

He never gets out of bed. He's such a fool.

He's a typical Italian,

the opposite of us Swedes.

That's all very well, but if he doesn't turn up with the tickets,

there's no flight.

Calm down, calm down, Theodore.

If I'm not in Stockholm tomorrow, I'll be scolded by the bishop.

Wait a minute, but...

-Oh, my God, that's terrible! -What, Kitty?

-He's killing her! -Killing who? Alberto?

Not Alberto! There's a man stabbing a girl to death!

-They're in that house! -Which one?

Behind that window!

Wait! Maybe I can see his face.

If only he'd turn around...

There he is! Damn it!

Quick, give me another coin!

There are chestnuts on the ground.

Maybe he knocked them over when running away.

If only I could see the street sign.

No, nothing.

-Number 57! What can we do? -I don't know.

There's a guard over there!

-Carabiniere, please! -Fireman.

Somebody stabbed a girl! Quick! Do something!

I can't.

What do you mean?

My wife, you understand...

But there's no time to waste!

-Call the emergency service. Call 113. -Do it yourself!

Gladly, signorina, but today is my day off,

and you can't distract me with this. Am I making myself clear?

This is insane!

Alberto!

-At last! -What happened?

Something terrible has happened.

I saw a woman being Killed. She was stabbed.

-A woman? -Yes. I saw her through the telescope.

Are you really sure?

-Sorry I'm late. -Oh, Alberto.

-Nice to see you. -Hello.

-Quick, we have to find a phone. -Yes, yes.

When do they arrive in Stockholm?

In a couple of hours.

Did you see his face?

Whose?

The killer's.

I already told you no.

The telescope cut off when he came through the door.

What about the chestnut seller and that girl?

I didn't pay them much attention.

Did you figure out the area? The street?

No, the view was narrow.

But I did see the entrance.

It had a small door with a few steps.

And I also saw the number. It was 57.

Are you sure?

Would you be able to recognise it?

But of course.

-Can't you go faster? -Are you really sure?

The inspector is waiting.

Strangled or stabbed?

Stabbed.

I've already told you, Inspector.

-Did you notice the time? -No.

But I can tell you exactly.

-What time were we due to meet? -At six.

Then it was exactly ten past six.

How can you be so certain?

Because my father, just before I switched on the telescope,

noticed that Alberto was ten minutes late.

Alberto?

-Who's Alberto? -I'm Alberto.

Eight more bars and we're all set.

Turn on the light, Anna.

To create a good soundtrack,

it's essential to stick precisely to the timing of the Moviola,

especially for synchronisation.

Let's have a look.

-Well done. -You think so?

The rag sculptures are novel.

-Are the photos yours, too? -No, Kitty's. It's her hobby.

-Well done. Congratulations. -The only thing she's good at,

-apart from making love. -Thank God!

You see, Marco, I thought you could use them for your show.

They'd look good, you know.

They could be a dramatic backdrop,

instead of the usual corny choreography.

Don't you think?

A touch of originality and vigour,

to create a certain contrast with the musical line.

Do you see where I'm going?

Yes, of course.

We've already discussed this, after all.

But perhaps it's a bit too...

Too "death camp".

No, you'll see that, with the coloured fabric,

they'll look completely different. Less cadaverous.

- I trust you. -Marco, do you know where Lidia is?

-Maybe she's at the paper. - I tried. She's not there.

She's probably out on a story.

She's so good that she gets to the crime scene

before there's even a body.

Please excuse me, but I have to get back to work.

-I'm a little behind. -See you later.

-Bye, Marco. -Bye.

Turn them off, and let's start again.

I'm sorry, darling.

I can't go on. I don't know what's wrong with me.

-You don't like me anymore? -Don't be silly.

I even went to a doctor.

He told me that it happens at times of mental strain,

and I've got this show on my mind.

You know how important it is to me.

You'd better answer. It's probably your damn newspaper.

-Hello? -Hi, Lidia.

-Who is it? -It's Kitty. Don't you recognise me?

I've been looking for you all evening.

Listen, have you heard any shocking news stories?

Yes, Marco has become impotent.

That's right, tell all of Rome.

-Did you hear about a recent murder? -A murder?

Let me think...

Ah, yes! A transvestite was Killed.

Strangled by the Tiber.

No, that's not my crime,

because I saw a woman being killed.

Yes, a naked girl. Killed with a knife.

No, there's nothing in today's paper.

About what?

The murder.

So you must have imagined it, then.

Don't start that again.

I told you I saw it with my own eyes!

With over-excited eyes!

You read too many giallo novels, Kitty.

When you can, take a picture of this.

-All right? -Fine.

Excuse me, signora, but I need to ask you a few questions.

Of course. Make yourself at home.

Alberto, the inspector has come to ask us a few questions.

I wonder what he wants to know.

Don't be alarmed, Inspector.

I'm not Jack the Ripper.

It's for a show.

Sit down.

-Please, Inspector, sit down. -Thanks, but I'm not tired.

What a beautiful balcony.

You know...

-you were right. -You found her? Really?

Just now.

See? They've found my corpse.

An amusing distraction, knowing that a poor woman is dead.

-Signora... -Yes?

Could you tell me again what you remember about the killer?

His face? Nothing. But I'm sure...

Yes, I'm sure he was dressed in black.

He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, also black.

It was like...

There! Like that one.

MARTINEZ KILLER ACCIDENTALLY PHOTOGRAPHED BY GERMAN TOURIST

Who is it?

Who is it?

Hey, who is this?!

-Santillo. -Yes, Inspector?

This is the guy who didn't know anything when you questioned him?

And yet we squeezed him like a lemon.

Let's use the lemon press next time, as we left the juice inside him.

Knife or razor?

The autopsy will determine that.

A clean cut to the carotid artery.

A cursory examination suggests that he died a couple of hours ago.

Giorgi, measure the distance between those streaks of blood and the body.

Inspector Merughi?

Ah! Strangely, you weren't the first to arrive.

I bet this one was also found with their throat cut.

-You've won your bet. -As I predicted.

By the way, any updates in the Martinez murder investigation?

We're at a standstill, as the saying goes.

And what about the McDonald killing?

Could there be a link between the three murders?

That's a possibility that we can't rule out.

If that was the case, one might think it was the usual sex maniac.

For Heaven's sake! Let's not write things I didn't say, eh?

See you soon, busybody.

That's an enlargement of the bloody print

found where Martinez was killed.

This one was found in front of the chestnut seller's shack.

Both identical to the ones in the McDonald case,

the Australian ballerina who had her throat slit in that boarding house.

I see.

The three killings were the work of the same hand.

Your theory stands up, Inspector.

Did Forensics confirm that it was a cane?

Imprints were left by a metal tip.

-Then our culprit might be lame. -Correct.

This could make things easier.

Get me the files of all deviants and sex offenders with a leg disability.

This could be our big break.

Hello?

It's for you.

Hello? Yes?

Now?

Yes, of course.

It's the boss.

"The mystery remains, the investigation is at a standstill."

Did I really say that?

She's good, Lidia.

These journalists...

Call the Paese Sera offices, see if Lidia Arrighi is on the news desk.

Hello?

Oh, hello, Inspector! Any news?

The German tourist? But he's already gone.

Well, I couldn't have put salt on his tail, could I?

Of course I tried to get him to talk.

No, nothing, otherwise I'd have had eight columns.

-The name? -He wants to remain anonymous.

See you.

I want a blow-up

of the photo that that German tourist took.

I want to know about the girl who was with the chestnut seller.

You don't think that...

If she also saw the Killer's face, she's in great danger.

-We have to find her. -Leave it with me.

Lolli? The razor blade.

I'll file the complaint on stamped paper

and we'll take care of the submission.

He's contacting the duty sergeant...

We can confirm that the Killer is lame.

Does that mean anything to you?

-No, Inspector. -Well, it says a lot to me.

So you suspect somebody?

Yes. You.

Is that a joke, or are you serious?

My job doesn't allow me to joke.

How come you were limping

the day that you came to report signorina Martinez's murder?

Well, I'd sprained my ankle.

-How? -An accident.

A stupid accident, while I was...

I was loading...

Yes, I was loading some suitcases into the car, and I slipped.

Let's assume that that's true.

What do you mean "assume"?! That's what happened!

Calm down.

Calm down, my arse! You're accusing me!

I'm not accusing you at all. I'm merely gathering information.

Well, it looks like an interrogation to me.

Indeed.

Look at this photo.

It's taken from the television coverage

of one of your exhibitions four months ago.

Do you recognise the woman?

But I was really with...

I was with Kitty.

Are you sure?

What if I told you that the woman you're drinking with

is signorina Martinez?

The murdered girl.

Martinez?

But that's not possible. I've never met her!

-So I'll go and see the marshal. -No, the duty sergeant. I've already said.

-But I brought the stamps. -What stamps?

I said stamped paper, for the complaint.

That's enough, damn it!

He denied knowing her.

Which means that we're back where we started.

But I'm not convinced.

Better to keep an eye on him.

Lolli.

All this because you wanted to talk to the police!

Haven't you worked out yet

that if you give them a finger, they'll take an arm?

And then you end up getting confused,

especially if you're innocent, like me.

For instance, when they asked me how I sprained my ankle,

that properly threw me.

But what does your ankle have to do with the crime?

How do I know? But they think there's a link.

They have evidence that the killer is lame.

Hey, is something wrong?

Nothing.

I'm going to the toilet.

Kitty.

The toilet's over there.

Are you taking your suitcase?

Well, I...

Actually, I was packing.

Packing to go where, at this time of the night?

To a hotel. I can't sleep here.

I get that I've got you in trouble, so...

What trouble? I don't understand you.

Well, you see...

what the inspector was saying, the Killer...

He said...

He said he was limping.

-I saw him clearly. -So?

You don't think that...

But that would be crazy!

Come on, before I slap you, get back to bed, Kitty!

No, no.

Stop fantasising and come to bed.

Late extra! More details on the Martinez case!

Alberto Morosini questioned about the sex maniac's crimes!

Late extra! Alberto Morosini under suspicion!

Alberto Morosini?

I was signorina Martinez's cleaning lady.

I know who killed her.

Come and see me tonight, Piazza delta Fontana 6.

Ask for Marta.

Did you come alone?

-Yes. -Come in.

Come in, come in.

I hope you don't mind my seeing you in the kitchen.

Don't worry.

-Please, sit down. -Thank you.

-Are you a journalist? -No, no.

-So, signora... -Marta.

What do you have to say to me?

-Would you like a drink? -No, thank you.

Listen, Marta, you said you had a lot to tell me.

I do. I know who killed that poor signorina Martinez.

Rocco, the chestnut seller, knew it too.

-But it cost him dearly, the fool. -Why didn't you tell the police?

Because I'm not stupid. What would I have got out of it?

But what Rocco confided in me could be worth a lot.

Some opportunities come only once in a lifetime.

I need money. Can you get it?

-How much? -Five hundred thousand lire.

I don't have that right now, but I could get it.

-From the journalists? -Yes.

They're always dancing.

They do it better than signorina Martinez.

All right, then.

But don't mention my name. I don't want to end up like Rocco.

-So, who...? -Money first.

I'll bring it tomorrow night. Same time.

Fine with me.

Okay, but keep quiet, you understand?

-Yes, yes. -One word too many, and...

Well, you understand. It's dangerous.

Don't you worry.

I can defend myself.

I need money. Can you get it?

-How much? -Five hundred thousand lire.

So there it is.

Did you get all that? I think that's enough.

Are you convinced now, Inspector,

that I had nothing to do with it?

It would seem so, if the recording is authentic.

Continue.

Hello, Merughi speaking.

Yes.

Is the prosecutor there?

All right.

-What's the woman's name? -Marta.

Marta Guerri.

-Where does she live? -Piazza delta Fontana 6.

Are you going to bring her in?

Yes. With a mortuary van.

This was perfect.

No-one noticed that I... Then, it got deformed with use.

Do you think it's possible to repair it?

Yes, don't worry, signorina.

I'll insert an insole that's guaranteed for life.

-When will it be ready? -Two or three days.

I have every faith in you. Good day.

Let's go, Riccardo.

Signora, your sister's on the phone.

Hello?

Hi, Silvia. How are you?

Hi. It took me a while to find you.

What are you doing in that dump of a place?

You're exaggerating, as you always do.

That's Marco playing.

He rented the place to rehearse his show.

But it's Magda Hopkins!

Yes, the American. She's very good.

She's Marco's discovery.

I'm thrilled about it too.

How easily you get excited.

She'll be just like the others.

You know I don't like artists like that.

I hate them!

I only called to see

if you wanted to come to dinner at my place this evening.

I'm sorry, but Marco's so busy these days

that he doesn't want to see anyone.

And I'm following an interesting case at the newspaper, you understand.

You and your husband are such a great couple.

He with his music, and you with your crimes.

Never mind. Maybe another time.

Bye.

-Good morning. -Good morning, Inspector.

How are you?

As you can see, I'm not limping anymore.

I shave with an electric razor,

I've stopped doing exhibitions,

and I'm always at least ten minutes early for appointments.

First of all, I apologise for the photo.

What photo?

The one of you and Martinez.

The one I showed you at the police station.

It was faked, a trick so I could observe your reaction.

Well, next time, call a cardiologist.

Your trick nearly gave me a heart attack.

Have you noticed anything lately?

-What? Another trick? -No.

You know that you're being followed?

Me? Followed?

No, I don't think so. I haven't noticed.

And yet you are.

Beautiful stockings!

Yes, dear Morosini, you're being constantly followed.

By your men, I assume?

No.

By the Killer.

But why...

But why would he follow me?

Because you happen to be on his tracks.

That's why I called you here. I'm hoping his seeing us together

will cause him to make a mistake.

I'm not exactly thrilled about this.

You're not wrong.

The man has a sharp razor.

You know what?

My passion is fishing,

so I need a special bait to catch an exceptional fish.

And that bait is you.

-Me? -Yes.

You're on the front line now.

You, your girlfriend, and the woman who was with the chestnut vendor.

You see...

You see, our man, after stabbing the two girls to death...

Two girls?

Yes, two.

Do you remember the McDonald case?

-The Australian? -Yes, yes, of course.

But what's the connection between the two crimes?

The same hand. The same technique.

There's no doubt about that.

He didn't baulk at committing two more murders,

just so he could stay free.

So we're dealing with a very cunning man.

That's why I need your co-operation.

THE KILLER STRIKES AGAIN

AMERICAN DANCER MAGDA HOPKINS KILLED LAST NIGHT

You know, I like these things.

One day, I'll ask you for one for my little daughter.

So, what do you think of my new trick?

Oh, it's great.

But it seems a little too dangerous.

We'll take all precautions.

And have you already found the right woman?

Of course.

It's Kitty.

Kitty?

What on Earth are you thinking?

Yes, I think she'd be ideal. Don't you?

Well, actually...

You think she'll say yes?

Kitty?

She's reckless, that one.

All right. We'll spring into action tomorrow night,

after the final edition of the paper comes out.

And do you remember the detail about the cane?

YOUNG WOMAN IN PHOTOGRAPH FOUND DUE TO BAG

She's a streetwalker. Police keep name under wraps.

Hey, look at this baby doll!

-Wow, she's seductive! -Hey!

Playing hard to get, eh?

Jump in, let's go. Come on!

Well, what are you going to do?

What are you looking at?

Come on, get in.

-A hundred thousand lire. -What's that?

-A hundred what? -A hundred thousand.

Fuck yourself a hundred times, you bitch!

It's just a matter of time.

A hundred thousand.

Patrol cars one and two, head to the target.

Kitty!

Get out, you!

You...

General?

What's all this about, Merughi?

Well...

-Well, let's stop the exercise. -Of course.

I could at least have been stopped near the fire. It's damp here.

Can I have my cane back, please?

As for the money, you can return it to headquarters,

considering that you wrecked my evening, my dear Merughi.

Good night, signor General.

Excuse me, but I'm looking for the person who covers fashion.

Yes, I also cover fashion.

Oh, thank goodness. May I come in?

Please make yourself at home.

I am Asdrubale Magoo, owner of the Magoo Company,

a renowned manufacturer of leather goods, hides, a bit of everything.

Excuse me for coming in, but I couldn't keep it quiet anymore.

Here, you see this bag?

Yes, of course.

Believe it or not, I made it. It's an original.

And I'm about to launch it on the market as best I can.

Advertising is the soul of commerce. Even Silvio Pellico said so.

The Magoo Company has decided to launch a major ad campaign,

linking the bag with the victims.

And, when the killer is unmasked, you can run with the headline,

"The Magoo Bag Revealed the Killer".

It's a real money-spinner.

At which point, I'll release a load of bags onto the market

which are identical to the one that I've already sold.

How much do you think this advertising will cost me?

Listen...

Excuse me, if I understood you correctly,

you told me that you only sold one?

That's right.

Today, signora, people demand sex and blood.

Hence my idea of linking the bag to the killings.

Does that make sense?

-And do you happen to know the girl? -The girl?

-Yes, the one who bought the bag. -Oh, the whore.

The Magoo Company knows all of its dearly respected clients.

We always work to order.

Anyway, to get back to the corpses, I...

Listen, I can't estimate the cost right now,

but if you tell me that woman's name,

I promise you that we'll advertise for nothing.

Free? Bloody hell, I'd give you my late grandmother's personal info for that!

Wait a moment. Wait.

I'll just make this phone call...

Hello?

How does this thing work?

Hello? Oh, here it is.

Darling, is that you?

Listen, give me the address of that whore who bought the bag.

How can you not remember? That bag that I made out of

that big snake that I killed when I was down by the river.

Yeah, yeah, that one.

Yes, that respectable-looking one

who said she was going to work for a lady

who I later realised was a whore.

Hey, listen, Menica...

Excuse me, Menicuccia is my wife.

Can I use this phone?

-Be my guest. -I'm a tad over-excited.

What? You found it?

That's it! Inès Ferretti. I remember it too.

What was that? Via Alba 40?

Okay, I'll be on the two o'clock bus.

And don't forget the beans, okay? Bye.

Listen, signora, in my opinion the bag should be photographed

next to the corpse, to achieve the right commercial impact

and entice the customers. Don't you think?

Is she coming?

Yes.

But she took a fair bit of convincing.

It's hard to be persuasive over the phone.

It seems incredible that a bag of chestnuts

could put someone in mortal peril.

Did you ask her if she recognised the killer?

No.

I was afraid that might intimidate her even more.

When I asked her if she was one of those,

she almost hung up the phone.

Of course, if I pull this off,

the police would look like fools,

with that stupid prostitute stunt.

I can already see the inspector's face!

But what if she's not able to talk?

Goodbye scoop.

She was much too scared, too reticent.

I'm sure that she knows something.

Signorina Ferretti?

-Yes. -Come in.

Thanks.

The signora will be right with you. Please take a seat.

Thank you.

No! No!

-Emergency 113. Hello? -Hello?

-Hello? -113? Hello?

-Hello? Hello? - I know the killer!

-I heard the killer. Hello? Hello? -Hello?

I know who he is!

A get tone... Just a moment, don't hang up!

Here it is.

Don't hang up! Wait a moment!

This one hasn't hung up.

Hello? Hello?!

The killer! I know who the Killer is!

Don't hang up! Don't hang up!

Wait! Please, help me! Help me!

Help me!

Can you hear me? Don't hang up!

Well, at least I can hang on to this.

Do you think I'll have to use it again?

You might as well save it for the upcoming funerals.

The death toll is climbing.

Meanwhile, the trap hasn't sprung.

The Killer isn't stupid, unlike us,

who look like a bunch of imbeciles.

And I had to play a whore!

Do you know the things they asked me to do?

You know, Alberto, I've made a big decision.

The most important one of my life.

I've decided to start singing.

Singing?

Yes, I've recorded a couple of tunes. They're not bad, you know.

You're thinking about...

With all the troubles we have, you're thinking about songs?

Sorry, but we can't keep dealing with crimes, cripples,

sex maniacs, and generals on heat.

Life goes on.

Yeah, as long as he lets it.

So, do you want to hear me sing, or don't you care?

If you want.

You're in for a surprise.

What the... It's not here. Damn it, where did I put it?

Alberto, do you know where the tape recorder is?

-Isn't it in the kitchen? -Oh, that's right!

It's not here either. I can't find it.

Try the oven.

Found it!

Are you listening?

No, not this one.

Not this one either.

Here we go.

I really need it all.

I don't have it, but I can get it.

-From the journalists? -Yes.

They're always dancing.

They do it better than signorina Martinez!

All right.

Wait a minute!

What is it?

Listen.

-From the journalists? -Yes.

They're always dancing.

They do it better than signorina Martinez!

-All right... -Does that mean anything to you?

-No. -But how?

"They're always dancing. They do it better than signorina Martinez."

So Martinez was a dancer.

And we know that McDonald attended a ballet school.

The newspapers said so.

Magda Hopkins was an excellent dancer.

If we can prove that Martinez also had something to do with dancing...

Well, that whittles it down.

You're right! We must tell Inspector Merughi at once.

Nope. No, not this time, my darling.

He'll probably trick me into wearing a skirt

and forcing me to dance "The Dying Swan".

Lidia!

Thank you.

-Hello? -Hi, Lidia! Thank Heavens I found you!

Hi, Alberto, how are you?

You're up early. What's up?

Tell me, you followed the McDonald murder investigation, didn't you?

As a reporter, of course.

Listen, do you know if she attended a dance academy?

Let me think... I think so. A Russian, a certain Orlowich, I believe.

Have you got a pencil?

-No, no, Okrowich. -What did you say?

-The Okrowich Dance Academy. -Okrowich...

And do you know where it is?

The address will be in the phone book.

Oh, of course. You're right.

But what's this all about?

I can't tell you much yet, but I think I've found a lead.

Really? That would be fantastic! Wow, what a surprise!

Yes, but please don't tell anyone.

No, no. Don't worry.

You're a real sweetheart. Thanks.

-I'll call you back. -Great, okay.

Hello?

Hi, Silvia.

Listen, at the dance school that you went to,

was there anyone named Martinez?

I've never heard of her. Don't bother me with that stuff!

You know that after I fractured my leg,

I hate that environment and don't want to hear about it!

No... Her...

No, it couldn't be her...

No, it couldn't...

No, it couldn't be her.

No, no, no, no.

No, no, no...

It's not possible, it's not possible,

it's not possible, it's not possible...

THE MARTINEZ MURDER

DEATH OF SPANISH GIRL STILL SHROUDED IN MYSTERY

Well, I'm very sorry, but I've never met this signorina Martinez.

But I understand that signorina Martinez...

You can "understand" whatever you want,

but I'll just tell you again that I've never seen her.

After all, this isn't the only dance school in Rome.

Poor signorina McDonald was one of our best students.

-I'm sorry. -Thanks anyway.

-Good day. -Good day.

-Well? -Nothing.

She doesn't know her. Hasn't ever seen her.

Damn.

Quick, let's go. If they see me, I'm finished.

-But... -Go, go!

OKROWICH CLASSICAL DANCE ACADEMY

-Are you sure? -Totally.

That witch lied so there wouldn't be bad publicity for the school.

Martinez was one of our students,

only she enrolled under a false name.

She didn't want her parents in Spain to know.

How do you know all this?

I know, because I was her best friend.

And don't forget, I'm the school secretary.

And now stop, I have to go back.

-Should I go, too? -No, they might see us.

Have you got a pen?

-When will we see you again? -I don't know. I have to go now.

Here, this is my number. Call me.

-What do you think, Alberto? -That it's all a big mess.

Hello, police?

I'd like to speak with Inspector Merughi.

Yes, yes, okay. I'll stay on the line.

-Are you sure about this lock-pick? -I got it at Porta Portese market.

It's so cold!

Maybe it's fear, but ...

Quiet!

The ground floor windows are for the gym.

On the upper floors are the reception and storage rooms.

The main office... you know where it is.

-The archive? -On the second floor.

What's wrong? Still cold?

I'm probably over-excited, but I need to pee.

Go on, then.

What if signora Okrowich finds out?

Burglary? Two years and six months.

-Finished? -Yes, yes.

Let's go.

-Where are the photos kept? -Over there.

CLASS I

CLASS II

CLASS III

-You sure she was in the third year? -Absolutely.

-Why are you doing this? -What do you mean?

All this help. What's your interest in all this?

I was a very good friend of Martinez.

It was an affection...

that was more than sisterly...

It was a great affection.

Why didn't you tell the police that you knew her?

Because I need this job.

Another scandal would have been the ruin of signora Okrowich.

Anyway, she would definitely have fired me.

Alberto, I need to pee again!

What are you like, Kitty?

The toilet's behind that door.

What on Earth are you photographing?

This costume. It's such a pretty design.

Kitty, forget about fashion and photograph these albums!

-All of them? -Yes, the lot.

-Where are the documents kept? -Upstairs.

We need to go there, fast.

It's here.

The torch.

But that's impossible!

My God...

Why?

But why?

Oh, damn!

Alberto! Bring the light over.

Come and look at this.

I found something extraordinary.

Now I know who the Killer is.

Alberto?

Alberto, what...?

Kitty!

No! Help! Help!

Alberto!

Alberto!

Alberto!

Help!

Alberto!

Help!

Help...

No! No!

Kitty!

-Kitty! -Alberto...

Marco...

Yes. Marco.

I'm sorry, Lidia,

but I had to do it.

Perhaps it's for the best.

But Marco...

He wasn't lame.

Inspector, you told me that...

I don't understand.

He was pretending.

An ingenious method of fooling us.

Oh, God, but why?

So then you...

Lidia, you knew that...

No.

His whole life was a deception.

I stumbled upon the reality quite by chance.

Rearranging his musical scores,

I noticed several phrases,

written in a contorted hand.

The thoughts of a madman,

entrusted to the music that he loved so much.

Marco was a paranoiac,

obsessed with the fear of failure.

He killed his victims in order to banish from his diseased mind

the pain of a life doomed to failure.

He faked his impotence

as a way to protect me from his illness,

which would have forced him to kill me.

Then, he tried to win me back,

perhaps to make me believe that he was cured.

There was a moment when, thinking back to the dance school,

I almost suspected my sister.

It all made sense, given that she too was lame.

In any case, Marco's music will live on, at least within me.

THE END