All language subtitles for Tandem.S03E05.Dissonance.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

- Oh! Help!
- Come quickly!

Yes, but not because
we didn't reach out to you.

Why did you wait so long
to tell us about this Julien?

The tattoos. His job.

The community service orders.
His artistic work.

He's not the ideal son-in-law.

What do you think?

Your mother and I are so modern.

OK.

And if Julien isn't taken on
at Montpellier art college,

will you both go to Rennes?

There's a law school there.
It makes sense.

That's right.
Abandon your old dad.

After I bled myself dry

to buy that apartment
for you and Thomas.

OK, no, I'm joking.

I think it's time
that we met this Julien.

I'd like that.

Let's do it.

Yes.

Ah!

It's work.

You're abandoning me?

Yes. Yes.

Yes.

I've no money.

I'll drive straight over.

Yes.

No audience?

Was it a rehearsal?

It hadn't started.
The musicians weren't there.

- Entry is by pass.
- That narrows it down.

60 musicians in a symphony orchestra,

plus the techs,

make about 80 people with a badge.

Exactly.
That narrows it down.

OK, I'll get going.

That's good.

Shall I brief you or should we wait?

Let's not wait.

The boss is working
on a more sensitive case.

I see.

- With Thomas, at school.
- Right.

One fatal injury.

There were signs of a struggle
in his dressing room.

The struggle clearly ended out here.

What was the weapon?

A luthier's knife.

It was left near the body.

It was part of a display,
in the dressing-room corridor.

The murderer grabbed it
while giving chase.

Any prints?

No, the handle's worn down.

The wood's too old.

OK. So, introduce us.

François Durieux, aged 28.

First violin,
Montpellier Symphony Orchestra.

He lived at 29 Allée des Roses,
Castelnau-le-Lez,

with his mother, Patricia Durieux.

A grieving mother.

Léa can talk to her.

Anything else?

Yes.

This was on a bouquet of flowers.

"Congratulations on your
well-deserved success."

Signed: Garance Corbier.
Who's that?

The Opera's vice-president.

Flowers for a musician.
Nothing unusual.

No one saw her today.

Then find her
and bring her in, please.

- OK.
- Thanks, Camille.

Was it just the two of you?

François' father abandoned us,
just before François was born.

François seems to have been
a great violinist.

Do you know if that gave rise
to any jealousy or rivalry?

I hardly knew
the other musicians,

but François didn't make enemies.

And, apart from music,

did he have any other activities?

Friends?
A girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?

No, you know,

other than music,
nothing really interested him.

He spent his time in his room,
playing his violin.

Could I see it?

Are these François' violins?

Yes.

May I?

I'll be very careful.

Sorry.

That was his first violin.

François was nine
when he learned to play.

There's something inside.

That's the luthier's signature.
Pascal Roy.

Do you know him well?

Yes, he taught
at the conservatory back then.

He immediately spotted
François' talent.

He looked after him...
a bit like an older brother.

Or a father.

He made this one specially
for François.

It was his favourite instrument.

Which one was François playing
this morning?

None of these.
He had an Armanello at the Opera.

An Armanello?

An 18th-century violin.

He got it three months ago
from the Haydn Foundation,

in recognition of his talent.

François was delighted.

The luthier, Pascal Roy,
didn't mind

that François had set aside
that specially made violin?

I don't know.

Lieutenant.

Thanks, Anthony.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- I'm Garance Corbier.
- Ah, yes.

Sorry, I was taking my husband
to the airport.

That's fine, have a seat.

Excuse me.

It hasn't stopped, since...

Were you close to François Durieux?

- I hardly know the artists.
- But you give them flowers.

Of course, to congratulate them
or encourage them.

We all admired François' talent.

He was taking off.

Tomorrow's concert
was to be broadcast.

Ah, and could someone have wanted
to stop him from playing?

For what reason?

I don't know.

Jealousy, for example.

Who could replace him?

No one, other than Théo Bloquet,
the second violinist.

OK, Captain, I'll find him
and bring him in.

Do you know a certain Théo Bloquet?

- Did you question him?
- No, why?

He's Vannier's suspect.
How's it going?

I'm not done.
No witnesses so far.

Everyone has an alibi.

Soler wants the victim's violin.

Catherine Wajowsky, the conductor,
might be able to help.

Excuse me, Mrs Wajowsky.

Yes?

Did the orchestra's violinists
get on well?

There's always competition
among musicians.

But nothing nasty
between François and...

Théo Bloquet.

Maybe a little more,
since François got his Tino.

Tino?

Sorry, that's the nickname
for his Armanello.

His violin.

Luthiers used to give names
to their finest pieces.

Théo!

Théo, show some respect.

That's François' violin.

What about Pascal Roy as a suspect?

A luthier killing his protégé
over a new violin?

I don't think so.

You've got something better?

Maybe. I don't know.

François and a guy named Théo

were competing for first violin.

I told Camille.

A jealous rival?
That's too obvious.

Why do I bother?

You hardly talk to me anymore, Paul.

When were you going to tell me
Alice was leaving?

I wouldn't have kept it from you
for long.

- She'd have told you.
- You let her leave with a stranger?

Finding what Thomas will do
after high school is complicated.

We need to act or next year
will be hard. Thomas is...

Shush.

Shush?

Breathe from your diaphragm.
Zen.

Think yoga.

Our kids are going haywire.

Am I laughing?

Who booked the career
adviser for Thomas?

I can't remember.
Maybe it was you, for once.

And Julien and Alice
will fill you in tonight,

over dinner.

I liked it better
when you didn't care.

It was an excuse to unload on you.

It was practical.

Is that a compliment
or am I mistaken?

I don't want Alice to leave.
I'm not ready.

I know, Léa, but it'll be OK.
We'll talk to Julien and Alice.

Barbecue, 8pm, at home.

Ah, right.

And have you chosen my outfit
or can I choose it?

Your denim shorts.

- My denim shorts?
- The short ones.

- You're crazy.
- What?

What a joke!
My little denim shorts.

Really?

Sorry, I couldn't resist trying it.

Give me that Armanello.

It's evidence.

- I don't understand.
- But it's simple.

No, not that.

That's just not Tino's tone.

Maybe you don't play well enough.

I play as well as François Durieux.

That's the signature.

Believe me,

that violin doesn't have
Tino's outstanding sound.

It's a fake.

Paul, I've thought about it
and looked into it,

but Théo Bloquet doesn't fit
that jealousy and rivalry theory.

But we can't rule him out completely.

What did the Opera search turn up?

Nothing.
The real Armanello has disappeared.

That's strange.

I don't get it.
How come the victim didn't notice?

The last rehearsal was on Friday,
two days ago.

He died this morning
before rehearsal.

He didn't play.

So the murder is linked
to the theft of the Armanello?

Unless François Durieux
sold the violin.

Maybe he had the copy made.

That's impossible.

That instrument was his Grail.

So we need to work out
who made that Armanello copy.

An excellent luthier.

OK, let me think.

One of the best in the region.

Ah, yes, of course.
Pascal Roy.

Incredible.

The luthier's payback.
Is that the best you've got?

Pascal Roy had fallen out
with the victim.

He could make a copy.

No, I've nothing better.

You know, I'll deal with this,
as if he were guilty.

But just to prove you're wrong.

Of course.

I'll be right.

No, I prefer the shirt.

But without the tie.

And stay off politics.

And especially public-sector workers.

Yes, of course, for sure.

And can I drink?

- Sure.
- Absolutely not.

A glass of red.

But just one.

And what about my legal problems?
Do I...

They'll know your record by heart.

They'll have
your elementary-school grades.

Is this a good idea?

Will you help me out?

I actually have to go swimming.

I don't want to witness
the carnage.

Don't worry, it'll be fine.

Let's just do up that button.

There you go.

I was just talking

to someone
from the Joseph Haydn Foundation.

They lent Durieux the Armanello?

No, that's the point.
They never had any such violin.

They've never heard of him.

Durieux lied?

Even to his mother.

How did he get that violin?

He couldn't afford it.

Maybe he got it illegally
and was in some sort of danger.

If we work out how he got it
then we've got our man.

That sounds so easy.

- Hello, Franck.
- Hello, Léa.

What's the news?

A wound to the heart,
perforating the pulmonary artery.

Durieux died within seconds.

The wound and surrounding lesions
indicate a brutal stabbing,

using a short blade,
with a very sharp tip,

but blunt sides.

Like the luthier's knife,

found by the body.
- Yes.

And the struggle?

That doesn't correspond
with the report.

There was no struggle
between the victim and attacker.

So what about the bruising?

No idea, but a struggle
would have left traces of skin

or textile fibers.
There was nothing.

So could the bruising have occurred
the day before his death?

No, it was the same day.

It's as if...
he had let himself be beaten.

That makes no sense.
No one accepts being beaten.

No. Thanks, Franck.

You're welcome.

Had you known him for a long time?

I had known François
since he was a kid.

His mother didn't have much,

so I gave him his first violin.

He stayed loyal to you.

Until his move to an old instrument,
the Armanello.

That hurt, at the time.

But it was a good thing for him.

So, to recap,
you gave him his first violin,

which was great in itself

and then you made instruments
specifically for him.

You invested your time,
your knowledge and skills,

and probably some money, I imagine.

And then suddenly...

he dropped you for an Armanello.

You were entitled to expect
a return on your investment.

Our relationship went beyond that.

He was like a son to me.

Children can be disloyal.
We often see that.

You think I took revenge?

Yes.

By making a copy of the Armanello.

But François found out about it
and it snowballed.

I respect my work too much
to produce fakes.

But if you're looking
for a counterfeiter, I can help.

I can tell you
where your copy comes from.

The victim's bank statements
are regular.

Durieux paid his mother every month,
for housekeeping.

He couldn't have bought
an Armanello with his salary.

That's the question:

how did he get it?

I'll check out the antique dealers.

And put out a wanted ad,
to find the owner

of the genuine Armanello.

What about the description?

"Made of wood, precious"?

That's very funny.

Write "value: two million euros".

That'll get a reaction.

OK.

Thanks, Erwan.

Shall I close it?

No, it's hot.
Thanks.

Do I have the stairs or not?

No.

Is that the Opera plan?

What a labyrinth.

- I called security.
- And?

Only badge holders went in today.

Really?

Ah.

OK.

And did you ask about
this service door in the basement?

It leads into the wings.

The two security guards

have the only keys
and they both have an alibi.

I see, OK.

Then I don't know.

There must be a phantom in the opera,
because...

Right!

A masked man, living in the cellars,

between the broom closet
and the electricity meter.

Or something.

With overalls and a mop.

And a mask.

Sorry. It's Captain Marchal.

Yes, Captain?

Camille?

Hello.

All good?

- All good. You?
- Yes.

- What are you up to?
- Me?

Nothing.
What are you up to?

Nothing.
Or nothing illegal.

You know that's been impounded,
as official evidence?

Marchal asked.

He didn't ask me, for once.

Soler will find out.

As always.

Marchal's my boss too.

I can't rat.

No, I understand.

Welcome to my world.

I didn't see a thing.

Thanks.

Are you sure about this?

The lab will do its own analysis,

so we're just saving time.

Thanks.

Let's see.

That's Canadian maple.

You can tell
from the regularity of the rings.

The wood is as important
as the artisan's skill.

I only use cherry wood,
if I'm still a suspect.

What are you doing?

I'm trying to identify
the type of varnish that was used.

Yes, that's synthetic varnish,
with a cellulose resin.

That's low-quality Eastern work.

The Czech Republic, I'd say.

That didn't take long.

- Yes, Major Soler?
- Paul,

what are you doing,
taking evidence out again?

The lab wants
to analyze the fake Armanello.

I don't hang about.
I've found something out.

The copy wasn't made in France.

Paul, you're way off.

Pascal Roy
wanted to sell the Armanello.

Are you sure?

He visited antique dealers
yesterday.

OK, I see. Thanks, Léa.

The local antique dealers
know you well.

No.

Mr Roy
was trying to sell an Armanello.

Yes, yesterday, it seems.

Getting rid of a violin
can't be easy at that price,

with no invoice.

He made the copy.

I didn't kill François.

So, where's the violin, Mr Roy?

I'm calling my lawyer.

Then we'll do a search.
It must be here.

Look, Captain.
Those drawers were moved.

You have no right.

You watch too much TV.

That's in American series, Mr Roy.

We're allowed to do this,
in your presence.

Bingo.

That was quick.

And one Armanello.

François wouldn't have noticed
that it was a copy.

He didn't even realize,

but he played much better
on my instruments.

You went to the opera
this morning, to exchange them.

No, I...

It was the day before yesterday,
No one was there.

I'd never have hurt him.

Why did you try to sell the violin?

We'd have found out.

I had that jewel on my hands.

I was at a loss.
I panicked.

You could've burned it.

An Armanello?
I could've destroyed an Armanello?

You didn't mind destroying François.

I just wanted to teach him a lesson.

Gratitude

wasn't François' main quality.

Where were you
at the time of the murder?

Bye.

Léa! Léa!

- Yes?
- Where are you going?

To see the prosecutor.

So did Pascal Roy deliver?

It's all good.

It's not a perfect alibi,

being alone in his workshop,

but he didn't confess.

It's a matter of time.

We need to know
how he got into the Opera.

And the motive isn't convincing.

You said it: betrayal.

It was more emotional than financial.

Unless there was no link
between the murder and the theft.

You can't keep changing like that.

OK.

OK, I'll charge him
with theft and receiving.

That'll give you some time.

Thanks.

- Happy?
- Yes.

- That's good.
- Thanks.

- Paul?
- Yes?

The barbecue's a bad idea.

Relax, Léa.

- I'm not stressed.
- You are, a bit.

Julien's the one under pressure.

You know, an official meeting
with one's father-in-law,

potential, at least,

is never... how can I put it?
It's never simple.

He'll be there to judge us too.

And what do we look like?

Two old cops, almost retired...
It's pathetic.

Old? What makes you...

We're in the prime of life.

Look at you - you're gorgeous.

- See you this evening.
- Yes.

- That's very nice.
- Really?

It's raw and candid, all at once.

Good framing, nice light.

It reminds me of Diane Arbus.

In colour, though.

So you know photography?

- Yes.
- She does? Of course.

I loved it.

I wanted to study it.

But your grandparents
didn't rate it,

as a job.

So I became a cop.

I met your dad
through photography.

But that's history.

It was August 20, 1993,
at 8:20am, exactly.

She was photographing
the outside of a nice crèche

and I was on the opposite sidewalk,

with my camera, thinking,

"I've got to get a photo of her."

That's right.
That's fine like that, Paul.

That's good.

There we go.

Julien, how could we help you
to study art in Montpellier?

I don't know.

Bribe the admissions?

I don't get it?

You could bribe the admissions.
It was a...

Ah, no.
That's not how things work here.

It's doable. Or not...

This is when I make the coffee.

And this is when I go with you.

- You know the way?
- Yes.

Darling.

I like his sense of humour.

So-so.

Thanks for picking me up.

No problem.

You'll have to change your car,

at some point.

It's temperamental

but it has sentimental value.

- Ah!
- That's right.

OK, any news
on the missing Armanello?

No, nothing. No calls.

No one's heard of that violin.

It's a mystery.

I've got nothing either.

Durieux led a boring life.

His mother bought his clothes
and cooked.

He played the violin.

That's amazing, at age 28.

Yes... I don't know.
He was an artist.

His head was in the music
and the rest...

I know lots of musicians.
There's more to it.

You know lots of musicians?

He lied to his mom
about that Armanello.

A bit like a kid, no?

Yes.

Why do kids usually lie?

To avoid getting shouted out
or for fear of letting someone down?

I don't think it was his only lie.

Are we going?

Yes. Put your seatbelt on.

Yes.

I never had any problems with my son.

I don't know why he lied
about that Armanello.

That's what we're trying to find out,
Mrs Durieux.

Had François always been passionate
about music?

I think it was how he dealt
with his father's absence.

Did you never think
about starting a new life?

You were young when he was born.

He was enough to fill my life.

And music filled his.

We were both satisfied.

I liked when François
told me about concerts,

his colleagues,
his Thursday evenings with Pascal...

His Thursday evenings?

Can I go in, Mathieu?

Thanks.

Mr Roy.

Tell me about Thursday evenings
with François Durieux.

I held demonstrations at my workshop.

He was the best ad
for my violins.

Did he come
after he got the Armanello?

No.

We hadn't spoken for three months.

Ah, then we have a problem.

François told his mom
that he came every Thursday.

Why did he do that?

I don't know.

I was hoping you'd tell me.

I don't get it.

I really loved that kid.

We all wanted to help.

Yes, you, his mother, his conductor.

Anyone else?

We all believed in him.

Too much, for sure.

Maybe François wanted something else.

To breathe.

What did Pascal Roy say?

Same as everyone else.

No one knows
why François lied so much.

A virtuoso that lived so much
for his music

that he strung everyone a line.

About those Thursdays, too.

OK, Sophie, look into it.

I've got Erwan and Camille
on the case.

Major...

Can I ask...

is there any news
about the case against you?

No.

Sophie?

You seem to be following the case
very closely.

If I can help in any way...

The colonel appointed you here.

You must owe him a lot.

But I learn from you.

The colonel's avoiding me.
He must be searching.

But...

But according to rank and seniority,

Marchal would fill in.

What are you implying?

Nothing at all.
No, no.

It's just to know.

I don't know...

There's no news, Captain.

Close the door as you leave.

Yes, Major.

Thank you.

What exactly are we looking for?

No idea, but Durieux's phone
was located here...

Every Thursday evening.

I thought he went to Pascal Roy's.

- He stopped.
- Why did he lie?

No idea.
Vannier has a good dictum.

Putting a bit of truth in a lie
helps get it right.

And what that hypocrite says
is apostles' truth.

You mean gospel truth.

No, apostles'.

It's gospel truth.

There were several apostles, Erwan.

Major.

Yes, Sophie?

There's some news about...
Just a moment.

I'm sorry.
I feel bad, for mentioning Marchal.

It's not important, Sophie.
I'm listening.

We found the owner
of the real Armanello.

- It's...
- Thank you, Sophie.

Yes, come in.

We found out
what Durieux did on Thursday nights.

He saw his lover,
in a little hotel.

And I have news, from a phone call

that Vannier took
from one Mrs de Constantin.

Mrs de Constantin?
Who's that?

Mr de Constantin's sister.

First name, Hervé.

Who's Hervé de Constantin?

The Armanello's owner.

Ah, the wanted ad worked.
That's great, because, look...

He owns the violin
and he's married to...

Garance Corbier.

François Durieux's lover.

Durieux's lover...

- It's never your fault!
- There was a flood.

I can't help it.

- I deal with things as I go.
- Come with me.

I'm always chasing after you.

Your work disturbs the musicians.

Mrs Corbier?

No, I'm very busy right now.

Yes, me too,
I'd like you to come to the station.

For what reason?

A little downtown hotel on Thursdays.
Does that ring a bell?

I'm sure you have a good reason
for not telling us

about your relationship
with the victim.

I'm well known at the Opera
and married to the man I love.

I didn't see the relevance.

That's for us to decide.

How would you describe

your relationship
with François Durieux?

An infatuation.

With the man? The musician?

Both.

If you had heard François play,
you'd understand.

Was it serious between you?

No, no, it was...

- An affair.
- Yes.

So there was no reason
to tell everyone about it.

I understand.

Tell me, Mrs Corbier,

for an affair,

you gifted a two-million-euro violin
to your lover?

I'd like to know what you'd give

if you were really in love.

There it is.
The first surprise attack.

Did you notice?

She touches her hair
when she mentions François.

The affair was as regular
as the lines on a score.

Sorry, that was a bit trite.

Every Thursday evening,
in the same hotel...

I'm not sure whether you know
the exact definition

of the word "affair."

There, you see.
She hid her wedding ring.

That wasn't an affair.
That was true love.

Either your husband found out
and he killed François Durieux

or things turned sour between you
and you killed him.

- Her hair.
- Yes.

The Armanello

was in your husband's family
for four generations, right?

Apparently.

He must have liked
you giving it to your lover.

He didn't care about the violin.

It was better with François
than gathering dust.

Yes, François lived for music.

He just needed a little help
to become a great musician.

That was you and your love?

No.

It was the Armanello.

He'd finally be recognized.

Yes, Erwan?

I have news.

So do I.

The husband was flying to Berlin
at the time of the murder.

We can rule him out.

- I've just got back.
- From Berlin?

No, from the airport.

I checked the parking lot CCTV.

The husband flew at 10am
and Garance dropped him off at 8.

It's about 20 minutes
from the airport to downtown.

So, Garance Corbier
could go to the Opera

and be here for 10:30.

That's what I was thinking.
But the motive is a mystery.

I may have an idea.

Sophie, check the victim's profile.
Maybe we missed something.

Thanks, Erwan.

But we agree
Garance Corbier and François Durieux

were totally in love.

I think so too.
What makes you say that?

I saw the video.

Her body language
was a total giveaway.

She loved him.

Really? Tell me more.

Her hand in her hair
expressed her desire for François.

When her husband was mentioned,
her ring came off.

To be precise,
she just fiddled with it.

Whatever - it's all the same.

And when she bit her lip,

talking about their affair,
it was obvious.

Wow! So women have no secrets
for you.

Well, maybe one or two.

Thanks, Adeline.

What's that?

The extracts that Sophie chose
from Pascal Roy's interview.

He says François
became ungrateful and selfish,

the success went to his head
and only his mother could stand him.

What if Durieux
acted that way with his lover,

when she wanted love and affection?

And she got fed up
with a one-way relationship?

We're wasting

our time here.

Is this supposed to be fun?

We've searched the whole Opera.
Haven't you had enough?

Let me quote some advice
from a great detective,

"Sometimes, by retreading
the ground already covered

"an investigator
solves the murder."

Was that Sherlock Holmes?

No.

- Hercule Poirot?
- No.

- Maigret?
- No.

Then who?

Paul Marchal.

Put it
in your book of captains' quotes.

Don't thank me.

Who was that?

One of Garance Corbier's workers.

I'm going to ask him something.

Excuse me.

Do you remember me?

You're unforgettable, lady.

You can call me Lieutenant,
if that's OK.

What are you working on?

The fourth renovation of this wall
after last year's flood.

And do you have a badge?

I have a key to the service door.
Mrs Corbier gave it to me.

Mrs Corbier,
would you like to call a lawyer?

But...

I don't have a lawyer.

Really? Are you sure?

But you called

a certain Mr Galfione

at least four times in two weeks.

Yes, of course,
sorry for the misunderstanding.

Mr Galfione isn't a criminal lawyer.

He specializes

in family and divorce law.

That's my private business.

Don't think that.

It's very much my business.

So, here's what happened.

You were unhappy in your marriage.
For you, it was already over.

And when a woman makes a decision...

Yesterday morning,
after dropping your husband off

at the airport,
you went to the Opera,

keen to tell François
about your divorce.

But he saw things differently.

He didn't care
about your love or your relationship.

Music was his only interest.

Nothing but music.

So you had an argument.

He remained stoic,
faced with your rage and anger.

He didn't understand
and took the blows.

You were so disappointed.

After all you had done for him.

Garance,

the Armanello
wasn't to help François.

It was just a way
of trying to get to his heart.

Come in.

Hello, it's me. How are you?

What do you want, Paul?
My yoga class is about to start.

- Will you help me?
- Yes.

Over there.

- OK.
- Here we go.

Do you do yoga in that outfit?

I'll change.

Yes, but you're in those shorts,
when the teacher comes.

You said they suited me fine.

- Stop it, Paul.
- OK.

OK, I just came to debrief,
after yesterday's dinner.

Well...

Julien seems nice.
Alice is very much in love.

I just hope it works.

And what about us?

What about us?

I thought we could debrief about us.

We were good.

Yes, yes, it was nice.

OK, Paul, Greg's on his way.

It was nice?

Yes, Paul, we all played our part.

The father, the mother, Amen.

Why are you closing up?

I'm not closing up, Paul.

Sorry, it's...

- It's work.
- Is there a problem?

No, no, it's just the colonel.

Is there a problem with him?

No, there's no problem.

Léa, you know you can talk to me.

We're a team.

No, we're not a team.

Sometimes, you forget
I'm your boss now,

not your wife.

It's hard for us both to stay
as part of the brigade,

when you keep moving the lines.

We've already discussed this.

We need to keep some distance.

OK, OK.

I've got it:

your work comes first.

You're more and more like your dad.

That was so predictable.

And trim the damn tree!

OK.

That's not what I mean, Paul,
I'm sorry.

Subtitles: ECLAIR V&A