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Better hurry. Mass is in fifteen minutes.

Not out here, babe.

Yes?

I need something to eat.

- Now? - Yes.

Then I'll wake Felix.

You too. Emails to write.

Yes, sir.

Hurry up!

Clean up and go.

- Celine. - Hmm?

To that loser Roger Gaillardin.

"The midnight deadline has passed.

My offer will now go down by 5 million euros every 24 hours."

Sir?

Hmm.

Dr Klein confirmed tomorrow morning.

You'll be there? To see the heartbeat?

I would not miss it for the world.

Hmm.

Hmm.

- Yes, Lucas. - Are you near a TV, boss?

- Do I have to be? - Yes.

A reporter ambushed Layla's parents, they're talking.

How worried are you for Layla?

Worried? Well, well...

She's been missing for more than three days.

Do the police have any leads?

No. I mean...

they're working hard but it's just another job for them.

For us, our whole world's been ripped apart, our baby's gone.

What more would you like to see being done?

The police are doing the best they can,

but Layla's brought joy to so many people.

If anyone knows anything or has seen anything,

please, just tell us, or tell the police.

Christ, we're going to be swamped.

Please call Chief Inspector Maigret

at the Police Judiciaire or leave a message on our

"Where is Layla?" Facebook page that we've set up,

and we'll pass on the message to the police.

We need your help.

Thank you.

- I'll come in. - Janvier is already outside.

You still don't know what happened?

No.

Are you worried?

Yes.

The disappearance of influencer Layla Lyonnet

three days ago.

The police have no leads.

So the mystery deepens, as do the fears of her parents

and her thousands of fans.

Chief Inspector Maigret.

My boss wants to talk to you.

How do you know where I live?

If Monsieur Fumal wants someone, he finds them.

Tell him to find his local police station and talk to them.

What was that about?

Layla fans.

Can I run a couple of them over?

Not today.

It's all over her Instagram,

where she goes to write poetry

in the Bois de Boulogne.

What idiot let them in here?

Don't just type, go there.

Yes, just before the border.

I have the number. Thank you.

Someone saw Layla near the Spanish border last night.

- Twentieth tip this morning. - Let it go to voicemail.

Lapointe, Cavre, over here. Torrence, you too.

We've got all we need. Come here. He's gonna see you out.

Let's go through what we know so far.

Relationships outside the family?

No boyfriend, no girlfriend, no close friends.

In her latest video she was advocating celibacy.

- Welcome to the club. - That's a surprise.

What about relationships at work?

Same picture. She doesn't have any.

Work is just her, no friends.

Mum and Dad handle the business side.

So unfortunately Mum and Dad are right.

She's been missing three days, we don't have a single lead.

No, we have dozens of leads.

By the end of the day, we're gonna have hundreds of leads.

We don't have the manpower to follow them all up.

She could be kidnapped, she could be murdered.

Or she could be faking it.

Layla was a mid-range influencer with about 600,000 followers,

but she was losing followers and sponsors.

Now however the "Where is Layla" Facebook page

her parents set up has had over a million hits.

So this is just a publicity stunt?

As far as we're concerned she's still a missing kid,

and we'll put everything we have into finding her.

Madame Prosecutor, we've got no news as yet,

and the fact Layla's parents have decided to go public...

I'm sorry, I'm not here about Layla.

Can you come with me, Chief Inspector?

Put all calls through to voicemail.

Go through them at the end of the day. Get back out there,

go to all the places where Layla was last seen.

- Ask questions. - We've done that.

Then we do it again!

What did she say, what was her appearance,

what was her mood.

Lapointe, look at the parents.

Er, what do you mean?

What do you mean, what do I mean?

You're the one suggested it might be a put-up job.

Look at them.

Minister, Chief Inspector Maigret.

Chief Inspector. Give me two minutes.

I apologise for pulling you away from your work.

Mathilde says you have your hands full

with this influencer girl.

- We do. - Monsieur Fumal called me.

He said he tried to talk to you this morning.

His driver did. Who is he?

The owner of Fumal.co. The retail billionaire.

Surely you've heard of him.

I'm not a big shopper.

Fumal has been receiving death threats,

I would like you to investigate them.

My unit doesn't investigate threats, Madame Minister.

If he gets killed, then we'll investigate.

Maigret, this is not how you speak...

Mathilde. It's alright.

Fumal has many friends in the media.

If these threats turn out to be real,

or God forbid are acted on,

a vast amount of government and police time

will have to be spent investigating them.

I'm asking you to nip that in the bud.

Find out what's going on.

Fumal is a bully.

Mathilde tells me you can't be bullied.

I'm asking you, as a personal favour,

go and see him.

I don't need to. He's just showed up at my office.

Minister.

I'll deal with it.

Even scruffier than you used to be.

Fumal.

Ferdinand Fumal.

Correct.

Or as you used to call me, Fatty Fumal.

Oink, oink!

The butcher's son from Saint-Fiacre,

and you, the estate manager's son.

Well, look at me now and look at you.

And, er...

the girl you can't find.

Did the Minister give you an earful?

She told me to speak to you.

Did she tell you who I was?

Some sort of businessman.

Hmm, some sort?

I have revolutionised food retail in France.

- I have built an empire... - You're getting death threats?

Yes. Messages.

"I'm going to cut you up." "You're going to die."

You don't know who's sending them?

No.

Does anyone bear you a grudge right now?

Roger Gaillardin.

I'm buying his business, and he hates me.

What, enough to want to kill you?

Well, he's weak. He could be desperate.

I'll need to see the messages,

take a look round your home and offices, interview your staff.

I have dozens of offices and thousands of staff,

but my headquarters is at my home at 219 Rue de Courcelles.

I'll tell my secretary you're coming.

- Do you have family? - A wife.

- Children? - No children.

Same as you.

Do you have lovers, a mistress?

None of your business.

You came to me, it is my business.

She isn't.

Talk to my secretary, Celine.

You'll like her. Most men do.

See you later, Jules.

- What are you, a geisha? - Rude.

Boss, you can't get involved with this jerk.

- We're already swamped. - No choice.

Tell Gaillardin we want to speak to him, don't say why.

Where are you going?

A bar.

Then Rue de Courcelles.

Thanks.

Fumal.

Ferdinand Fumal.

Or as you used to call me, Fatty Fumal.

No!

Oink, oink!

Come on, guys, let's leave him!

He'll come down when he's hungry.

See you later, Ferdie!

Bye-bye!

Mmm!

Boss?

Look sorry to interrupt your busy day,

but we might have something on Layla.

Her spinning class was cancelled three days ago,

because the instructor, Marcus Desailly, stopped turning up.

That's Marcus.

A couple of people in the class said that he

used to pay a lot of attention to Layla,

flirting, touching, borderline inappropriate.

They also say that his cell phone number went dead

three days ago, the same day Layla disappeared.

Lapointe.

Found where Marcus lives.

What on earth are you doing?

Concierge wouldn't give me the key.

Didn't believe I was a cop.

Even said my ID was fake, so...

Initiative, I like it.

Clever little Lapointe.

He's a musician. Paris Conservatoire.

Toothbrush and shaving stuff have gone.

Bed hasn't been slept in.

Anything that might belong to Layla?

What, like a fetish?

No, like she was here.

Actually, could be right about the fetish.

Marcus' screensaver was Layla

and his password... is her date of birth.

And this is his photo album.

He was stalking her.

Posted yesterday, arrived today.

- Opened, so he was here today. - Or someone was.

We should get out, put a watch on the place.

Boss, shall we do that?

Yes.

- Good idea. - Where are you going?

To find out who wants to kill a billionaire.

I know who you are. This way.

I am Celine Bourges, personal secretary to Monsieur Fumal.

Death threats. "You're going to die." "I'm going to cut you up."

Oh, I left out "bastard", "fat arse".

We checked with our service provider.

The messages came from pre-paid burner phones.

You can't identify the sender.

Nonetheless, I would like the numbers.

You have them.

- How many staff live here? - Er...

Myself, Victor, who's Fumal's driver.

Joseph Goldman, his business manager.

Noemi, Madame Fumal's maid. Felix, the chef.

Do you always wear that coat in this heat?

How many years have you worked for Fumal?

Five years.

Is he a good boss?

He's an appalling boss.

How is he appalling?

The usual ways plus a few of his own.

Has he abused you?

He once made me strip in front of him.

Why?

He accused me of stealing money from his safe in his office.

I denied it. He made me strip to prove it.

You could have refused.

You could have quit.

What, and lose my nice job, my nice apartment, my...

You don't like Fumal.

Nobody likes him.

Except perhaps his mistress.

Who's his mistress?

I was told not to say,

so I won't.

Otherwise you'll lose your nice job, your nice apartment,

and your boyfriend, Felix the chef.

Oh, you're good.

I, um...

blush when I'm caught out.

Also when I lie, which is kind of annoying.

Does Fumal know about you and Felix?

Probably.

He collects secrets.

Who do you think is threatening him?

Uh!

Anyone he's ever done business with?

For Monsieur Fumal a deal is only a success

when the other side is left weeping in the gutter.

Does that include Roger Gaillardin?

I don't know.

You're the detective.

Look, is there anything else?

I mean, this is fun, but I do have work to do.

I would like to talk to Madame Fumal.

Well, it's a bit early.

Follow me.

- Noemi. - Er...

this is Chief Inspector Maigret.

He'd like to speak with Madame Fumal.

She has only just had breakfast.

Is she dressed?

Breakfast of champions.

What is it now, Noemi?

My name is Maigret.

Chief Inspector.

Brigade Criminelle.

Has, er, someone killed him?

No.

Someone has sent messages threatening to kill him.

You don't share a bedroom with your husband?

I don't share anything with my husband.

Why did you marry him?

Because I was in love with him.

You don't want to hear this.

I do...

if you're willing to tell me.

My father owned a chain of butcher shops

in Brittany that Fumal wanted.

He was... courting me at the same time.

Yeah, he was rich...

and charming.

I was young and pretty.

I thought he loved me.

But he was buying me... like I was another shop.

My father encouraged the match.

A-huh.

He said it would keep us together.

But in less than a year Fumal had sold the shops,

fired the staff, and, er, put the whole business online.

My father came here to protest.

I heard them arguing in the office.

Fumal said that my father was a weakling.

That he had taken his business

and his daughter at a knockdown price,

and he had never even put up a fight.

Then he got his thug Victor to throw him out.

Two weeks later my father had a heart attack.

I'm sorry.

Why did you stay?

He threatened to cut me off without a penny

and stop paying for the care that my father now needs.

You know, I am like everybody else in this house.

I'm trapped by his money.

And by fear.

Monsieur Fumal has got another message.

Look.

Look!

"Your cops won't save you, fat man."

They know about you so they must be watching.

Do you know who it is yet?

Maigret! I'm talking to you.

Were the messages sent from the same number?

No, it was another pre-paid burner phone.

Joseph Goldman, Monsieur Fumal's business manager.

Can I have the number?

Okay, Goldilocks, get out.

You too, creeping Jesus.

I want to have a heart to heart with my childhood friend.

What are you doing?

Sending the number to our crime lab.

It's gotta be someone here.

I know they hate me.

They lie to my face and they steal behind my back.

Do you know that, Ferdinand, for a fact?

I know they look down their noses at me,

because I came from nothing and now I have everything.

Do I know they steal?

Well, Goldman insider trades

on the back of every one of my deals.

Celine has been nicking petty cash for years.

She has 5,000 euros rolled up in the left toe

of her Bottega Veneta boots in her closet,

saving up so her and her boyfriend, Felix,

can buy a bar in Gien.

Felix over-orders for the kitchen

then flogs the surplus to local restaurants.

My lovely wife is drunk all day

and entertains her "gentleman friend" all night.

You didn't find any of this out?

You must be as bad a detective as your father was

at running an estate.

- He was good at his job. - He was terrible.

He was about to be fired when he had his stroke.

Saved everyone a lot of embarrassment.

Strange how our childhood idols fail us when we learn the truth.

The Countess de Saint-Fiacre for example.

Or Sophie, as she insists I call her.

Yeah, we're friends.

But the stories I've heard about her...

Dear oh dear.

You had a crush on her, didn't you?

I remember how she used to call.

"Jules!

Jules!"

And you'd come running.

"Jules!

Jules!"

I don't need you, you creep, get out!

I'm not scared of this great lunk.

What are you doing?

Making a call.

Lucas.

Get Inspector Cavre to Fumal's.

He's to stay here until I say otherwise.

What about Roger Gaillardin?

Have you checked him out yet? Okay.

Meet me there.

Gaillardin's a criminal.

Should've been locked up years ago, and I can prove it.

One of my detectives will be here soon.

Any news on Layla's spinning instructor Marcus?

No. Parents know nothing, friends know nothing.

He's vanished into the same black hole she has.

We are looking.

Monsieur Gaillardin,

have you been sending death threats

to Ferdinand Fumal, sir?

I'm sorry, I beg your pardon?

Death threats. Texts.

"You're going to die." "I'm going to cut you up."

No. No, I haven't.

Do you dislike Monsieur Fumal?

Yes. He's a vile human being.

He said you were a criminal.

Of course he did.

He insults me, he bribes, blackmails my board,

bullies my suppliers, and feeds gossip to the media.

My share price has halved in less than six months.

So why did he say you were the criminal?

I don't need to explain his disgusting slanders,

not to you or anyone.

I didn't threaten him.

If I'd wanted him dead, I wouldn't send messages,

I'd just walk up to him and shoot him in the face.

Thank you for talking to us.

So either use a tissue or a kitchen towel

and put it in the bin.

This is my favourite brand, er...

I'm doing detective work for you.

Layla.

This is when she broke through, aged seven,

lip-synching to some of her favourite artists.

It's so full of joy.

No wonder people loved her.

Then the brands moved in.

Still lovely. Still innocent.

Next comes sex.

More pout, less smile, but she's still in control,

still enjoying herself.

But then there's this.

On the fan sites they call it the "dark post".

It was made two months ago,

and it was deleted less than a minute after it was recorded,

but a couple of people managed to save it.

Hey, guys.

I just wanted to say, that only you can judge you.

Don't be afraid to stand up, don't be afraid to be alone.

Love will find you, love is waiting.

Life really wasn't fun anymore.

Like she was trapped, being watched all the time,

and judged.

She was being watched.

By her spinning instructor.

Marcus.

Looks like he was stalking her.

Are Were there more photographs like this?

- Lots. - Actually like this?

Er, yes, why?

Seems kind of innocent.

Moers.

He what?

Are you sure?

Okay, okay.

I'm on my way.

Show me.

Hello to you too.

I analysed the cell data from the two numbers

used to send the messages.

And I also got the locations they were sent from.

I suspect that, as I will soon demonstrate,

the user did not know that even burner phones

can now have GPS which reveals their location.

The first threat was sent four days ago.

The second the next day, but in the same time span...

three longer messages to a journalist's Twitter feed,

an online gossip column - a restaurant critic.

All anonymous, either attacking Roger Gaillardin,

or praising Ferdinand Fumal.

"Gaillardin has been a total disaster as a CEO.

The board should welcome Fumal with open arms."

That pattern continues.

Anonymous threats against Fumal, anonymous texts praising Fumal,

attacking Gaillardin.

It's weird but it doesn't necessarily...

Then you add the third factor.

I used Fumal's own phone to track where he's been

for the last four days.

All the same places.

What, he sent himself the death threats?

Thank you, Moers.

Your former colleagues supply the manpower,

your former clients and contacts

give you the threat intelligence.

And you have the makings of a highly profitable

private security company.

And you'd provide the funding for this?

- Oh, yes. - Seriously?

Ah...

Well, well, the great detective.

A glass of wine, Chief Inspector?

- No. - You sure?

Cavre says you've usually had a couple by now.

I have some information.

I'd rather tell you privately.

Why? Is Goldman trying to kill me?

He hasn't got the balls.

Well, come on then, spit it out.

Our technicians have analysed the phone numbers

used to send the threats.

They have 99% degree of certainty

that you sent them yourself.

That's rubbish.

Read the analysis.

In my opinion there is no threat to you at this time

and I am withdrawing my team from your case.

Go on then, piss off!

You too, you little sponger.

Hey, he begged us to set him up with a private security company.

- He suggested it. - Come on, Cavre.

Hey, before you scuttle off,

do you know what I'm gonna do next?

I'm buying Saint-Fiacre, the chateau.

I made the Countess an offer.

She didn't like it but she'll take it,

she's up to her ears in debt.

The butcher's boy, owner of Saint-Fiacre.

Maybe they'll even make me a Count.

Why did you ask for me, Fumal?

I saw you on TV

because of the girl you can't find,

so I wanted to see if you were as good as they say.

Or if, as your loyal subordinate says,

you've been promoted too far, too fast.

That's not the real reason, is it?

No. No, it's not.

I wanted to see if you were still the smug

little hypocrite you were back then.

Hypocrite?

Pretending to be my friend

and laughing at me up your sleeve.

You were even worse than the others.

I despised you then, I despise you now.

Get out!

Go on.

Fumal has an instinct for people's weaknesses.

You let him find yours and use it.

Next time, be more careful.

Er...

I'm sorry.

Yes, Janvier.

Boss, two of Layla's fans just broke into Marcus' apartment.

Layla's amateur sleuths.

Managed to grab the little bastards.

- How did they get in? - Same way we did.

Asked questions at Layla's exercise class.

I thought the plan was you and Lapointe would keep watch.

We were. Apartment across there.

They were too quick. Pulled up in an Uber,

ran in, bust down the door before we could stop them.

Trashed the place.

Hope we're not interrupting you, Lapointe.

I'm just checking the "Where is Layla" Facebook page.

Yep, Marcus is on it, and his apartment.

Plus there's a thread: "Why didn't the cops come clean

about Marcus Desailly?"

This is out of control, boss.

What if one of these hormonal wackos

gets to Marcus before we do?

Madame Prosecutor.

I did.

I will.

Right, seal this place. Priority is Marcus.

We have to find him before someone else does.

It's fine. It's not a problem. He's with me.

Fumal. What do you have to say?

What did he tell you?

Many things, mainly that you were rude,

incompetent and out of your depth.

And you didn't even find out who was threatening him.

Oh, so that's one thing he didn't tell you.

What?

He sent himself the death threats.

Why for God's sake?

Because he thinks everyone is out to get him

and he wanted police protection.

You mean, this was just paranoia?

Partly paranoia. There is another reason.

He and I grew up in the same village.

He wanted to renew an old grudge.

Didn't you think it odd that of all the detectives

at La Crim he asked for me?

And there's a third reason.

He wanted to show he had power over you.

What that is and why, I don't know and I don't care,

but I know he collects secrets.

It's how he does business.

Now, Layla Lyonnet has been missing nearly four days,

I don't want to waste another minute on Fumal.

Wait. Is Fumal in danger?

Only in his imagination.

You can trust him, Minister.

Alright. Thank you, Maigret.

I need your help. The Layla case.

Inspector Maigret! Inspector!

Inspector, have you found him yet?

- Inspector! - Do you have any leads?

Have you found Layla?

Madame Lyonnet, Prosecutor Kernavel.

Come in, please.

Monsieur Lyonnet.

Have a seat.

Have you got any news for us?

I hoped I would have news,

but due to the behaviour of some of Layla's fans,

police surveillance of a suspect was disrupted and...

Then Marcus Desailly is a suspect?

We're keen to talk to him, to find out

what he knows about Layla.

What do you mean, what he knows?

He knows everything. He was stalking her.

Possibly, but because of the fans,

his name and face are all over social media,

including your Facebook page,

so finding him will be infinitely harder.

I'm sorry about that but her fans are upset. We're upset.

Our daugh...

Our daughter's missing and the police are doing nothing.

They identified Marcus, didn't they?

Yeah, okay. Is this all you've come for,

- to complain about Layla's fans? - No.

I would like you to call them off.

What, like they're dogs?

They're people. They care about her.

If we don't "call them off", what are you going to do?

I would very reluctantly prosecute you

for obstructing a police investigation.

We've... We've lost our daughter and you're threatening us?!

You're unbelievable.

What? don't touch that!

You've no right to do that.

To stop you filming us without our consent?

We absolutely do.

I'm serious, call off the fans.

Do you know what the worst case scenario is?

Yeah, we sue you.

The worst case scenario is that Layla has been kidnapped,

and this publicity makes the kidnapper panic.

That's when kidnaps go wrong,

when we recover the victim not living but dead.

Please, do what Prosecutor Kernavel is asking.

Call the fans off.

- Hey. - Hey.

Someone just called for you.

Sophie de Saint-Fiacre.

The Countess.

You'd better call her back. Do you want her number?

Please.

Jules.

Sophie.

- You've grown up. - Er, it happens.

Two Calvados, please.

We'll drink to the memory of your father.

He and I would always have a calvados together

when we went through the Estate accounts.

Perhaps that's why they were always so confused.

No... Jules, I'm joking!

Your father was always scrupulous.

But, seriously, how many years is it

since we last met, 20 years?

- Nearly 20 years. - It's too long.

And in all that time, you've never been back to Saint-Fiacre?

No.

Thank you.

Your wife sounds nice. Do you have children?

Not yet.

Though we've just learned she's pregnant so...

That's wonderful news.

Now we really do have something to drink to,

not just old times.

To your firstborn.

I wish my son would settle down and get married.

- You remember Maurice? - Of course.

Why are we meeting here and not at your apartment?

Wow. You are the detective.

We're here because I'm selling the Paris apartment.

It's all packing cases and empty spaces on the wall

where the paintings used to hang.

Ferdinand Fumal.

He's why you wanted to see me.

Yes.

He's trying to buy Saint-Fiacre.

You knew?

I worked with him, briefly. He told me.

When I say trying to buy,

it's more like forcing me to sell,

and offering me an insultingly low price.

He said you're in debt.

The things people tell policemen.

Did he also tell you he's blackmailing me?

It's how he does his deals. He looks for weaknesses.

Well, he's found mine.

I was not a saint after my husband died.

Some of my ex-lovers have evidence

of my wild years, and Fumal?

Well, he's willing to buy it.

For myself...

I don't give a damn, but when I think about Maurice,

and the Saint-Fiacre name

dragged through the mud by this bully!

Agh!

- Sophie, are you alright? - Agh!

I'm fine now.

What I don't understand

is how he gets away with this behaviour.

How he can harass and bribe and blackmail.

- What do you want me to do? - Stop him!

Are you asking me as police?

I'm asking you as a man.

Come to beg, have you?

The answer's still no.

What did your Countess want?

My help.

Did you help?

No.

Big day tomorrow.

The heartbeat.

- Lucas? - Boss.

The police were called to Fumal's house an hour ago.

He's been shot.