Original subtitles

- 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