Original subtitles

INSPECTOR REX

ONE ALWAYS DIES

Ars moriendi.

Sorry.

This place wasn't easy to find.

I hope I won't be disappointed.

10,000 euros for a ticket isn't exactly cheap.

The game was named after you Russians.

You know what to do.

Just entertain the crowd out there.

- It's dangerous. - Don't be afraid.

Nothing can happen. We've made sure of that.

The cartridge isn't sharp.

And remember...

you'll be rich afterwards.

Mors certa...

Hora incerta.

"Death is certain...

"The hour of death uncertain."

The rules are simple.

Two men, one revolver...

one cartridge.

There's no betting limit tonight.

Here are Kolja and Dimitri from Moscow.

They'll play Russian roulette.

One of them will die tonight.

Put your bets on the survivor.

- Is this serious? - Want to bet or not?

I'll go for the tattooed guy.

Let the game begin.

This is too much for me.

Don't get excited. They're only blanks.

Fire!

Only blanks, honestly? If not, I'll go to the police.

Eight...

Your turn again.

13... Not exactly a lucky number.

Are you sure?

Up to you! It's your coupon.

He'll need another injection in an hour.

That was bad about Petra.

What else could I do? She was going to the police.

She ran into three guys and talked to them.

Would you rather this thing blew apart?

Just because you slept with her once

didn't mean you had to bring her along.

Why did you leave her lying there?

Should I have waited for the police?

Six!

A good number.

You stopped me. I nearly entered it on my coupon.

Get rid of the body later.

Give him one more injection. I'll go and see Oleg.

Where are Dimitri and Kolja?

On their way to Germany.

You can go there soon...

with all this money.

Later.

Why didn't they call sooner?

A misunderstanding in the department.

They probably used a silencer.

The three men didn't hear the shot.

She said something strange before she died.

Ars moriendi. Can you place it?

It's Latin.

I failed twice in Latin.

But ars has something to do with art.

- The other word... - Moriendi...

Has to do with death.

Ars moriendi means the art of dying.

For more details see Professor Karner,

director of the Vienna Funeral Museum.

- What's his name? - Karner.

You'll have the report this afternoon. Bye.

- Hello. - Hello, Leo.

The dead woman was Petra Hoffinger,

a 20-year-old student.

We found this on her.

A family could live on that for months.

Think it was murder and robbery?

Possibly. A torn skirt... lots of money.

She fell into the men's arms before she collapsed.

Maybe someone followed her.

Did she come from that direction?

Look at this. Could be part of her skirt.

No, no, no. The fingerprints.

Rex, is it the dead woman's mask?

I wonder why Ms Hoffinger was here at midnight.

A bloodstain.

Seems someone tried to wipe it up.

But it looks fresh.

Maybe Hoffinger witnessed a crime.

She panicked, ran away...

lost her mask...

and was shot dead by her pursuer beside the Danube Canal.

You wear a mask to hide your identity.

Are you thinking of a Black Mass?

A Black Mass? Could well be.

It would explain the mysterious words Ars moriendi.

But why all that money?

No, something different took place here.

We should stop this game.

I mean... until the dust has settled.

Just when the game is going so well?

Better than I ever thought?

Look...

One night's takings. More than 200,000.

Come on, twice more. Then we quit.

Well?

And it was fun, eh?

A little joke!

I always play it on museum visitors.

- Hello, I'm Herzog. - Hello. Karner.

I'm the museum director.

Here's a Josephine collapsible coffin.

The naked body was sewn into a sack

and put into this coffin.

It was laid over the grave, this handle was pulled

and the coffin floor opened.

An unusual way to put people to rest, wasn't it?

Yes.

But you could use this coffin again and again.

And the grave could be used again soon after,

because the corpse decayed much faster.

The reason I'm here... Dr Graf sent me.

He thinks you could help us with a murder case.

If it's about dying, yes.

- Ars moriendi, ring a bell? - Ars moriendi?

"The art of dying", a medieval handbook for a pious death.

Today you'd call it a guide.

A guide to dying...

A devotional book to help people in the Middle Ages

to face death without fear.

In those days death was omnipresent.

Famine, wars...

The Black Death...

- The plague. - Right.

But why does all this interest you?

They were the last words of a murder victim.

Dying people always say mysterious words.

Bogart... Humphrey Bogart's supposed to have said

"I shouldn't have changed from Scotch to martinis."

Who'd say in the 21st century

"the art of dying" in Latin before their death

in the middle of the street?

Maybe the victim was trying to indicate something.

Formerly, members of an order would say Memento mori,

which means "Think of death"

to emphasise their mortality.

Wait!

This is a so-called display coffin.

It also reminds its owner of their mortality.

Sorry, Rex, there's no time to play lotto.

Hello.

Her neighbour said

the woman spent hours in casinos and betting shops.

She even bet on the weather.

- The large sum of money? - She's just inherited a lot.

And a lot of men have been visiting her.

What about the lab report?

The scrap of material definitely came from her skirt.

And the blood on the floor?

Blood group AB. But hers was 0 positive.

Kunz...

Any fingerprints?

Here.

Thanks.

And...

Two days ago an ad was placed from her phone.

Joannes Chrysostomas Wolfgangus Theophilus...

The client of course remained anonymous.

But it was definitely a man's voice.

Mozart?

Mozart certainly didn't place the ad.

Kunz... they're his Christian names.

What has Mozart got to do with it?

I don't know.

Mozart died under mysterious circumstances.

He's buried...

He's buried here... in the St Marxer cemetery.

- You know what? - Yes, I do.

- Where are you off to? - Mozart.

Marc, I've found something.

A Plaque.

Something's written on it but it's unreadable.

What?

Forensics could only partially reconstruct the writing.

Thanks, Rex.

Down there is the time, it means 11 p.m.

- X... V... - It's too short for a word.

And besides, X... V...

They're Roman numbers. 10... 5... 15.

Referring to the 15th district?

And H... S...?

H... S...

Lecture room...

- Listen, the lecture room... - Was number 15.

Of course, sure... that's it.

Veterinary college, lecture room 15, 11 p.m.

An invitation.

The gatekeeper at St Marxer's told me

that many people have visited Mozart's grave lately.

Many people and a coded message.

The museum director said

Ars moriendi could be something to do with a group.

Hoffmann.

Right. Thanks.

Another person dead. Shot in the head.

A hunter's dog found the corpse this afternoon.

Hello.

The smoke traces indicate a shot at close range.

- Suicide? - No.

There are no traces of smoke on his hands.

Was a weapon found?

No.

Look...

Aren't these Cyrillic letters?

And the marks on his wrist? Was he tied up?

Probably handcuffs.

If you look closer you can see two small lines.

But only on one wrist.

Yes.

The blood in the college is the dead man's.

His name's Kolja Uljanow.

Our colleagues at Slave Trade Prostitution

recognised him by his tattoos.

He was deported twice.

What do Ballistics say?

Hoffinger was shot with a 9 mm Luger.

Uljanow with a different weapon, a 38 mm special.

That calibre is only for revolvers.

Right. So it wasn't suicide.

Maybe the woman watched the man being executed.

Like a paperchase.

A message at the cemetery invites people to an execution.

No, the whole thing doesn't make sense.

He's had enough.

- Still think we should continue? - Of course.

Ars moriendi is already advertised.

Well? You're 100% sure?

Roulette?

Of course. That's it!

Come on, Rex. Back to the office.

What?

You weren't in the office so I came by.

Rex and I have been up all night.

Had I known, I'd have brought some croissants.

Thanks.

What have you been doing all night?

After our talk yesterday I looked at a few old files.

And Rex... he watched TV.

Petra Hoffinger...

Hey...

- I look flushed. - And?

Hoffinger?

Yes, Hoffinger...

Petra Hoffinger was known for her betting passion.

Maybe she took part in illegal betting at a secret place.

A fight started between a Russian and another person.

The Russian was killed.

Hoffinger panicked, left and was shot too.

What if the Russian was part of the game?

- You mean Russian roulette? - Why not?

I looked through old files.

Some rich kids were bored, held a weapon to their heads.

A girl died. It was the idea of a certain Phillip...

Hildesheimer.

Please help me.

I'll help you all right!

You're driving my fish away.

Piss off!

- Please help me. - Don't come begging.

I need help, please.

Learn German first or go back where you came from.

- Mum, what's wrong with him? - Keep going.

Years ago your son took part in Russian roulette.

Tell me, where was Phillip last night?

Here, with me.

The girl who died was Phillip's girlfriend.

He never got over her death.

A year ago he attempted suicide.

Since then his speech has been affected.

It's all my fault.

I only cared about my company.

I injected Dimitri with a higher dose.

Fine.

Then prepare everything.

We can't keep our friends waiting.

Thanks, you've been a great help.

The attorney who handled the Russian roulette case...

And...

Not only does Phillip Hildesheimer exist

but also a brother, René.

And he induced the girl to play Russian roulette.

But the prosecution made it look like suicide.

And why is there no file on this René Hildesheimer?

They're half-brothers.

René is registered under his mother's name.

And... what's his name?

René Baier, spelt "ai".

This René is well known.

Convictions for serious traffic offences...

racing on alpine roads...

hanging around in betting shops.

Seems to be the black sheep of the family.

The stepfather refused to see him after the girl died.

Hello.

I talked to Petra Hoffinger's neighbour.

She described a young man who'd been visiting her.

Before you go on, come and look at this photo.

He could fit the description.

This is a green mamba.

Its bite is deadly.

This snake will kill a man today.

Either this one...

or that one.

Which one will it choose?

Put your bets on the man who won't leave here alive.

Let fate decide.

A scuba diver found him this morning.

He'd been weighted down with a stone.

He hasn't been in the water for long.

What did he die of?

Well...

On one hand I discovered a bite, maybe from a snake.

I can only tell you for sure after the autopsy.

And this here... was under his fingernails.

Looks like a grain or rice.

I'll have it thoroughly checked in the lab.

Bye.

Rex...

What's up?

A chain.

A bull's chain. Farmers used to use them.

He must have seen this chain before.

Where?

The veterinary college.

The police found Oleg.

I just heard it on the radio.

All right then...

Tonight goes ahead...

then we push off.

We found more chains from the same manufacturer.

So this dead man is also involved in our case.

- Any idea where René is? - No.

What about the second ad?

The cemetery again.

But we couldn't decipher the writing on the stone.

I think I'll go and see Hildesheimer again.

Can't you leave us alone?

Mr Hildesheimer, we know about René's past.

We have proof he had an affair with the late Petra Hoffinger.

And I believe Rene caused the death of Phillip's girl.

Please tell us where we can find René.

I don't know.

Cushion.

Blue... a blue cushion.

Blue...

Watering-can...

To water? To water!

Water...

Blue... blue water.

Blue water... blue water...

Of course, the spot where we found the corpse.

Yes, close by there's an abandoned castle.

The ideal hiding-place.

Thanks.

This is an old rouble.

Hello, Niki.

I know that. We're coming.

The grain under the dead man's fingernail

is einkorn, last planted about 90 years ago,

according to the agricultural university.

He told me to look here.

It's the oldest warehouse here in Vienna.

Look at this.

Tell the lab to compare this grain with ours.

A betting slip.

Lucky Vienna. Winner in the third race.

I'm looking for your boss.

Hi. Please tell us who bought this betting ticket.

We're not an information service.

Tax office?

Homicide.

I see. I know nothing.

We can take you to HQ and play the old game...

good cop, bad cop.

I see.

- So she's the good cop and... - I'm the good cop.

Rex! He's the bad cop.

Really?

That dear little dog...

Well?

Yes, okay.

I know only one person who bets on this lame horse.

Dr Wimmer.

And can you tell us where to find him?

Look, madam, my clients expect privacy.

But since he has asked so politely...

I'll make an exception.

All wore masks and you deny knowing the organiser.

I told you.

What's the sentence for contravening paragraph 286?

286'?

"Failure to prevent a punishable offence..."

- About two years. - Two years, Mr Wimmer.

Dr Wimmer, please.

All right then, Dr Wimmer.

We found your fingerprints on a betting slip.

So what?

In a warehouse where a murder was committed.

You'll need a damn good lawyer, Dr Wimmer.

But a successful doctor like you can well afford it.

I was only betting.

Dr Wimmer, you were betting on the life of a human being.

And we know there's another victim.

We found fingerprints on this coin

which differ from those of the two dead Russians.

Don't think this is a game.

Are further events of this kind planned?

You could improve your situation by providing more facts.

- Yes. - When and where?

In an abandoned factory in Waldgasse.

When?

Now.

Dimitri will die tonight.

Will he die before the hourglass runs out?

Then bet on red.

Or will death come after that?

Place your bets.

Increase the heat!

Police!

Don't even think about it.

Paragraph 286, Criminal Code. Two years.

You wanted the ice to melt faster. Paragraph 12.

Inciting another to commit a punishable offence.

And paragraph 75. Murder...

10 to 20 years.

Depending on the judge, even life.

- Let me go. I have money. - Bribery, too.

Take him away!

That's the guy who attacked you. Paragraph 269.

Resisting arrest. Bye.

And please smile. The press is waiting outside.

Here are today's winning lotto numbers.

The numbers are: 6, 7, 13, 24, 28, 36.

And?

Supplementary number 45.

Never! Rex got four numbers.

And you?

Lucky in love...

Luck is as flighty as a bird.

Sorry, Rex.